I GIVE UP!
I quit Match. Everyone who could be appropriate is either back up north or here hiding like me, watching Scrubs reruns and getting acquainted with The Dog Whisperer. On the bright side, my bitches are finally walking on the leash now! Behind me no less!
I finally get it - THESE are the relationships that matter. They’re loving, cuddly and low maintenance!
Match has been an effing nightmare. Some people assign mystical qualities to computerized matchmaking. Every once in a while I’ll get a hopeful email from some nimrod saying “I was matched to you!”
Well yeah, I have a pulse and I’m in your zip code.
I have met guys who were TWENTY YEARS OLDER than their photos. (I felt so sorry for one old geezer I bought him lunch).
A guy from Pine Island said "I look just like my photo, don't I!" Yeah, except that his hair had gone completely white since it was taken.
One bragged about his tennis and could barely make it off a curb without my hand supporting his elbow.
Another guy posted two photos - in one he looked like the father and the other a son. Yeah, they were both him.
I met an English guy who looked like his photo and was as much fun as I expected; but then - rather than give me a POLITE kiss good-bye - he stuck his dry, round tongue in my mouth.
I am STILL grossed out.
OTHER SLIPS OF THE TONGUE
A few days ago it was coverage of the helicopter pilot who crashed into a pool house in Naples and had to be “excavated” (extricated) from the wreckage.
STAY OFF THE RAIL FOR CHRISSAKES
Our local anchor says it seems like we’re getting more and more of these stories. Another woman “fell” off a cruise ship 70 miles from shore.
They called her a 50-year-old grandmother; based on the photo they flashed, she was a pretty blonde lady who looked like she knew how to party. One shove after multiple cocktails … so much cheaper than a divorce. Or maybe she just got stupid drunk; cruises can do that.
Did we ever find out what happened to Natalie Wood?
RESCUING NATURE’S LEAST POPULAR CRITTERS
Local channels and NPR are covering this one … yesterday five 10-to-12 year old kids were tossing, playing with - and kissing (I don’t make this shit up) - a Brazilian bat on Fort Myers Beach.
I find it encouraging that a good Samaritan stepped forward to rescue the bat. He or she then drove it to CROW - the Center for Rehabilitation of wildlife - on Sanibel.
Apparently CROW sent the bat off for testing and reports came back positive for rabies. Now this town has to track down and rescue the kids who were playing with it. They found two - they need to find the other three. Hopefully it will be local kids and not tourists who may already be thousands of miles away.
Crow is an amazing place, totally dedicated to wildlife. Check it out - http://www.crowclinic.org/.
Last year at the ad agency we rescued a vulture that had been hit by a car while dining on a roadside carcass. He eluded us for two weeks, then finally weakened to the point where our sorry asses had a chance to grab him.
Cast of characters included me, the writer - Rachael the media buyer - Tiana the Account Exec and Anthony, the other Account Exec (and biggest pussy of all). We were running around the concrete and glass office complex trying to corner this giant bird, screaming like six-year-old girls. The people from the other offices are probably still talking about the lunatics at the agency.
So we cornered the vulture in an entryway, got him into a pre-prepared box with holes and stuff (Rachael thinks of everything) and edged the box gently into the back seat of my car.
I knew driving him to CROW was going to make me late for an important meeting, but this feathered soul was more important. And there he was behind me, thrashing and stinking all the way.
I imagined him breaking out of the box and pecking my eyes out; I imagined running off the road and drowning in a slough*.
But I (we) made it. The woman at Crow thanked me and said “not many people are brave enough to capture a vulture.”
Back at the office, the boss wasn't mad at me for what I'd done, he just looked at the four of us like we needed prescriptions for whatever made us this way.
We named the vulture Carl and worried about his welfare.
A few days later I got a call. Carl had eaten a few meals and received good care, but his injury was too severe. Infection set in and he didn’t make it.
Say what you will, vultures are beautiful birds. Their feathers are the color of mink and the wingspan is incredible. They eat our roadkill.
I like bats too. They eat bugs.
NOTE TO PETA ... speaking as a person who lost three years of her life and everything she owned to a tick bite ... someone who NOW walks around with an anaphylactic shock medic alert bracelet on her wrist and liquid Benadryl in her purse in case of bug bite - President Obama was TOTALLY righteous in smashing that fly to kingdom come**.
Peta, you need to lighten the $%& up.
LEXUS’ AGENCY HIRING DISCOUNT TALENT?
Are you as grossed out as I am every time they play the Lexus IS commercial? That’s the one where the guy throws his head back with driving ecstacy, opening his mouth so wide you can see the fillings in his upper teeth.
You’d think this client has enough money for talent with enough money for cosmetic dentistry. Not that I’m in any position to even THINK about a Lexus ever again for the rest of my life.
Or cosmetic dentistry, for that matter.
CARMA
I try to be a good Buddhist. Right now my life is utter SHITTT with THREE Ts so I’m thinking I need to do some selfless things to bring it all back around to GOOD karma. (No, my name is not Earl.)
Two years ago a southern gentleman suitor gave me a vintage white bike. (Never gonna happen … this guy is the cheapest man on the planet.) I used the bike for a while, but you fry after 9 a.m. in this heat and … well, I’ve been staying up half the night and waking up around Ellen.
The white bike has been chained to the rail of my front steps like it’s trying to escape.
Last week someone on Freecycle asked for bikes for kids and I told her she could take the bike. OK, one small chunk of good karma should come back from giving away a bike I might have needed if my piece of shit car ever broke down.
That same week I also went through my closet and started removing things I haven’t worn in a few years. Even stuff I liked a lot. I was going to find a women’s shelter, but I know of a charity that does nice work in Cape Coral.
Today I had to meet a client briefly - and it was out that way - so I put the bags in the car.
It was one of those days where you're proud of doing things you've been putting off. I was giving stuff away, I was organizing my life, I was in the zone - so I decided to do one more thing I didn’t want to do; I called my ex-BF to see how he was.
When I first made the call, I was driving. The man never shuts up. I sat outside CVS for 20 minutes while he told me all about how he was and how his life was and how his business was holding on just fine and never once asked how I was.
I felt like there was something else I wanted to say, but I needed to pee; I told him I'd call him back.
I was in CVS (nice restroom!) when I remembered what I wanted to ask. “Do you think my piece of shit car would be safe enough to drive the 1400 miles up north to see family?” Cool, I'd call him back after I went through the toll booth and dropped the clothes off.
My Saturn SL is 12 years old with about 86,000 miles. It gets GREAT mileage.
It nearly died in the tollbooth. It started screaming, so I turned off the AC. (The heat was about 96 degrees at that point.) Then I noticed the battery light was on.
I made it to Goodwill without incident, but realized I was getting really stressed. There are three expenses I fear most - needing to buy a different used car, needing a new computer, and having the AC in my condo die. All are "about due."
Financially, I am in no position for any of this to happen. Obsessing and oblivious to all around me, I immediately misplaced my purse. It took 10 heart-pounding minutes to find it.
When I got back to my car, it started just fine but it seemed like the steering was suddenly difficult. WTF? My imagination?? Sweat was literally running down my face.
I got my phone wet calling the ex back. He knows cars. He said it was probably the serpentine belt. (?) I told him I was going back to Walmart because the battery light was on and the battery was still under warranty.
Walmart ran a quick check and told me it was the transmission. (I can’t say enough about the guys who work at the auto area at the Fort Myers Walmart at 41 & Gladiolus.)
I asked “how much is a transmission?”
The nice man got a look on his face like “do I really want to wreck her day?” And said “the parts are about $100.” He suggested AAMCO near the Olive Garden.
Ignorance is bliss. I drove away thinking “OK, $100 is doable.” Double-A-beepbeepMCO was closed, so I headed home and stopped at the grocery store “just in case” my car died or something.
Smart move.
Mission accomplished, I pulled up to my condo and turned the car off. Only it didn't turn off. I freaked. The ex-BF was not answering his phone so I called the only smart guy I know down here ... well, the only one I don't work with, the only one who won't call me a dumb blonde, the only one who will be sober at 6:00 on a Friday.
Harry said it was probably the fan and talked me through it. While we waited for "the noise" to stop, I asked how he was. He sounded like different day, different mistakes. His luck is just like mine.
The way my luck has been going, I expected the engine would explode and take out my downstairs living area and upstairs bedroom; but Harry was right - the fan went off after about 10 minutes.
I told Harry I had hoped to go to the beach tonight but obviously THAT wasn’t going to happen. He said he could stop by on his motorcycle and take me. I said “cool - we can both die in a fiery wreck.” (See my biker blog about four blogs back.)
Harry joked that without transportation, I’ll have more time to write. Which explains why this is my longest blog ever.
I am carless.
I am VERY upset because I will probably miss yoga tomorrow. It’s so hot I’ll pass out if I try to walk.
I could ride my bike … but I don’t have one.
Fortunately, I chose a condo in a piece of paradise that is WALKING DISTANCE to everything I need.
If I can stay away from the buttery deliciousness of the Marie Callendar all white meat turkey pot pies in my freezer, I’ll be ok.
I don’t have the stamina (or inventory) to become a drunk.
*Slough rhymes with "new". Known as a deep ditch up north, down here a slough has the potential to become a watery grave with snakes and alligators; or not. I am so paranoid sometimes.
**I met a Tibetan Buddhist monk a month or so ago and we talked about this thorny BUG issue. He said he's allergic too. He said some monks are able to achieve a level of oneness where bugs do not bother them. I don't think I'll be achieving that level anytime soon.
I quit Match. Everyone who could be appropriate is either back up north or here hiding like me, watching Scrubs reruns and getting acquainted with The Dog Whisperer. On the bright side, my bitches are finally walking on the leash now! Behind me no less!
I finally get it - THESE are the relationships that matter. They’re loving, cuddly and low maintenance!
Match has been an effing nightmare. Some people assign mystical qualities to computerized matchmaking. Every once in a while I’ll get a hopeful email from some nimrod saying “I was matched to you!”
Well yeah, I have a pulse and I’m in your zip code.
I have met guys who were TWENTY YEARS OLDER than their photos. (I felt so sorry for one old geezer I bought him lunch).
A guy from Pine Island said "I look just like my photo, don't I!" Yeah, except that his hair had gone completely white since it was taken.
One bragged about his tennis and could barely make it off a curb without my hand supporting his elbow.
Another guy posted two photos - in one he looked like the father and the other a son. Yeah, they were both him.
I met an English guy who looked like his photo and was as much fun as I expected; but then - rather than give me a POLITE kiss good-bye - he stuck his dry, round tongue in my mouth.
I am STILL grossed out.
OTHER SLIPS OF THE TONGUE
A few days ago it was coverage of the helicopter pilot who crashed into a pool house in Naples and had to be “excavated” (extricated) from the wreckage.
STAY OFF THE RAIL FOR CHRISSAKES
Our local anchor says it seems like we’re getting more and more of these stories. Another woman “fell” off a cruise ship 70 miles from shore.
They called her a 50-year-old grandmother; based on the photo they flashed, she was a pretty blonde lady who looked like she knew how to party. One shove after multiple cocktails … so much cheaper than a divorce. Or maybe she just got stupid drunk; cruises can do that.
Did we ever find out what happened to Natalie Wood?
RESCUING NATURE’S LEAST POPULAR CRITTERS
Local channels and NPR are covering this one … yesterday five 10-to-12 year old kids were tossing, playing with - and kissing (I don’t make this shit up) - a Brazilian bat on Fort Myers Beach.
I find it encouraging that a good Samaritan stepped forward to rescue the bat. He or she then drove it to CROW - the Center for Rehabilitation of wildlife - on Sanibel.
Apparently CROW sent the bat off for testing and reports came back positive for rabies. Now this town has to track down and rescue the kids who were playing with it. They found two - they need to find the other three. Hopefully it will be local kids and not tourists who may already be thousands of miles away.
Crow is an amazing place, totally dedicated to wildlife. Check it out - http://www.crowclinic.org/.
Last year at the ad agency we rescued a vulture that had been hit by a car while dining on a roadside carcass. He eluded us for two weeks, then finally weakened to the point where our sorry asses had a chance to grab him.
Cast of characters included me, the writer - Rachael the media buyer - Tiana the Account Exec and Anthony, the other Account Exec (and biggest pussy of all). We were running around the concrete and glass office complex trying to corner this giant bird, screaming like six-year-old girls. The people from the other offices are probably still talking about the lunatics at the agency.
So we cornered the vulture in an entryway, got him into a pre-prepared box with holes and stuff (Rachael thinks of everything) and edged the box gently into the back seat of my car.
I knew driving him to CROW was going to make me late for an important meeting, but this feathered soul was more important. And there he was behind me, thrashing and stinking all the way.
I imagined him breaking out of the box and pecking my eyes out; I imagined running off the road and drowning in a slough*.
But I (we) made it. The woman at Crow thanked me and said “not many people are brave enough to capture a vulture.”
Back at the office, the boss wasn't mad at me for what I'd done, he just looked at the four of us like we needed prescriptions for whatever made us this way.
We named the vulture Carl and worried about his welfare.
A few days later I got a call. Carl had eaten a few meals and received good care, but his injury was too severe. Infection set in and he didn’t make it.
Say what you will, vultures are beautiful birds. Their feathers are the color of mink and the wingspan is incredible. They eat our roadkill.
I like bats too. They eat bugs.
NOTE TO PETA ... speaking as a person who lost three years of her life and everything she owned to a tick bite ... someone who NOW walks around with an anaphylactic shock medic alert bracelet on her wrist and liquid Benadryl in her purse in case of bug bite - President Obama was TOTALLY righteous in smashing that fly to kingdom come**.
Peta, you need to lighten the $%& up.
LEXUS’ AGENCY HIRING DISCOUNT TALENT?
Are you as grossed out as I am every time they play the Lexus IS commercial? That’s the one where the guy throws his head back with driving ecstacy, opening his mouth so wide you can see the fillings in his upper teeth.
You’d think this client has enough money for talent with enough money for cosmetic dentistry. Not that I’m in any position to even THINK about a Lexus ever again for the rest of my life.
Or cosmetic dentistry, for that matter.
CARMA
I try to be a good Buddhist. Right now my life is utter SHITTT with THREE Ts so I’m thinking I need to do some selfless things to bring it all back around to GOOD karma. (No, my name is not Earl.)
Two years ago a southern gentleman suitor gave me a vintage white bike. (Never gonna happen … this guy is the cheapest man on the planet.) I used the bike for a while, but you fry after 9 a.m. in this heat and … well, I’ve been staying up half the night and waking up around Ellen.
The white bike has been chained to the rail of my front steps like it’s trying to escape.
Last week someone on Freecycle asked for bikes for kids and I told her she could take the bike. OK, one small chunk of good karma should come back from giving away a bike I might have needed if my piece of shit car ever broke down.
That same week I also went through my closet and started removing things I haven’t worn in a few years. Even stuff I liked a lot. I was going to find a women’s shelter, but I know of a charity that does nice work in Cape Coral.
Today I had to meet a client briefly - and it was out that way - so I put the bags in the car.
It was one of those days where you're proud of doing things you've been putting off. I was giving stuff away, I was organizing my life, I was in the zone - so I decided to do one more thing I didn’t want to do; I called my ex-BF to see how he was.
When I first made the call, I was driving. The man never shuts up. I sat outside CVS for 20 minutes while he told me all about how he was and how his life was and how his business was holding on just fine and never once asked how I was.
I felt like there was something else I wanted to say, but I needed to pee; I told him I'd call him back.
I was in CVS (nice restroom!) when I remembered what I wanted to ask. “Do you think my piece of shit car would be safe enough to drive the 1400 miles up north to see family?” Cool, I'd call him back after I went through the toll booth and dropped the clothes off.
My Saturn SL is 12 years old with about 86,000 miles. It gets GREAT mileage.
It nearly died in the tollbooth. It started screaming, so I turned off the AC. (The heat was about 96 degrees at that point.) Then I noticed the battery light was on.
I made it to Goodwill without incident, but realized I was getting really stressed. There are three expenses I fear most - needing to buy a different used car, needing a new computer, and having the AC in my condo die. All are "about due."
Financially, I am in no position for any of this to happen. Obsessing and oblivious to all around me, I immediately misplaced my purse. It took 10 heart-pounding minutes to find it.
When I got back to my car, it started just fine but it seemed like the steering was suddenly difficult. WTF? My imagination?? Sweat was literally running down my face.
I got my phone wet calling the ex back. He knows cars. He said it was probably the serpentine belt. (?) I told him I was going back to Walmart because the battery light was on and the battery was still under warranty.
Walmart ran a quick check and told me it was the transmission. (I can’t say enough about the guys who work at the auto area at the Fort Myers Walmart at 41 & Gladiolus.)
I asked “how much is a transmission?”
The nice man got a look on his face like “do I really want to wreck her day?” And said “the parts are about $100.” He suggested AAMCO near the Olive Garden.
Ignorance is bliss. I drove away thinking “OK, $100 is doable.” Double-A-beepbeepMCO was closed, so I headed home and stopped at the grocery store “just in case” my car died or something.
Smart move.
Mission accomplished, I pulled up to my condo and turned the car off. Only it didn't turn off. I freaked. The ex-BF was not answering his phone so I called the only smart guy I know down here ... well, the only one I don't work with, the only one who won't call me a dumb blonde, the only one who will be sober at 6:00 on a Friday.
Harry said it was probably the fan and talked me through it. While we waited for "the noise" to stop, I asked how he was. He sounded like different day, different mistakes. His luck is just like mine.
The way my luck has been going, I expected the engine would explode and take out my downstairs living area and upstairs bedroom; but Harry was right - the fan went off after about 10 minutes.
I told Harry I had hoped to go to the beach tonight but obviously THAT wasn’t going to happen. He said he could stop by on his motorcycle and take me. I said “cool - we can both die in a fiery wreck.” (See my biker blog about four blogs back.)
Harry joked that without transportation, I’ll have more time to write. Which explains why this is my longest blog ever.
I am carless.
I am VERY upset because I will probably miss yoga tomorrow. It’s so hot I’ll pass out if I try to walk.
I could ride my bike … but I don’t have one.
Fortunately, I chose a condo in a piece of paradise that is WALKING DISTANCE to everything I need.
If I can stay away from the buttery deliciousness of the Marie Callendar all white meat turkey pot pies in my freezer, I’ll be ok.
I don’t have the stamina (or inventory) to become a drunk.
*Slough rhymes with "new". Known as a deep ditch up north, down here a slough has the potential to become a watery grave with snakes and alligators; or not. I am so paranoid sometimes.
**I met a Tibetan Buddhist monk a month or so ago and we talked about this thorny BUG issue. He said he's allergic too. He said some monks are able to achieve a level of oneness where bugs do not bother them. I don't think I'll be achieving that level anytime soon.
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