The ties have gone to Goodwill

Finally. They are outta here. My attorney girl gave me the green light, said more than 12 weeks is reasonable enough time. Every single one of 'em is at Goodwill on Lynn Road.

Its good to purge...

If you could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would be something

To begin about the new ruse...it was about BJs.

Now this was exactly the sort of lame-ass shit I was afraid of. Told my friends - Vegas, Rock Star, Rock Star 2 - about it. They all agreed its going to keep going on because he is the biggest social moron there is. He has no idea he's being arrogant, or bothersome. Love the low social IQ on that one. This will ensure he is always going to be a problem for some girl, some where. God help her.

But I digress.

I don't answer for 24 hours. Had to discuss it with the posse, as ruses like this have become cocktail fodder for us. (He might be mortified to know how often we chuckle over his lame social skills and his masturbatory activities over Pimms or Stoli.) I decide to answer with a simple email:

I do not use the membership.

If I did need to, I would simply go buy a new membership for $40.

This is exactly the sort of frivolous message I was hoping to avoid. Please respect my wishes and do not contact me in any way.

Immediately he responds:

Trying to be courteous. Not foster communication.

Don't even get me started on courtesy. He can use please and thank you while he's being evil or shitting on people, and he feels he should get points for manners. This gets me going. I write:

Frankly, you're a bit past being courteous, considering your past actions. Consider yourself blocked from all email addresses.


He responds with:

you have a selective memory

you can, and will, do as you please

Well hello ee cummings. What up with the all lowercase and no punctuation. No doubt trying to save time. He used to text me the most bizarre messages, using absolutely no vowels and lots of numbers, and they were almost indecipherable. I think he somehow thought this was cool.

So this week. This week I get a call from Salon Blu about his every 3 weeks appointment. Now, who goes to the salon every three weeks. Who? Who?

Someone who does indeed dye his hair. What a pussy.

So I am tired of getting these calls. I've yelled at the people to stop calling. They don't listen. I send him an email:

Subject: I don't need to know when you cut and dye your hair

Body: Please tell Salon Blu to stop calling here about your appointments.

He writes back, again, almost immediately:

So sorry. I've asked them. Not sure why they are not complying.

Good call on the dye job. How did you know?

Check out dooce.com. You are good enough to do that.

Again, sorry. Have fun in New York.

I don't write back. I want to. I want to respond to everything in there. I want to say the following:

They aren't complying because you didn't change the number, you lazy fuck.

How did I know? You LOOK like you dye your hair. It's obvious.

Hello, my cat's name is mittens Mr. Non Sequitur. I do actually blog, and some of it is way funnier that than boring blog b/c we have such great material to laugh about.

I told Fun Girl that I couldn't believe he so non-chalantly admitted to dying his hair. She said, in that breezy ease of hers, that if I could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would have been something. But the dye job? Eh. People expect that sort of pansy ass shit out of him.

I began to realize I was too old to not have furniture in my living room, no matter what the circumstances

So I bought this Mitchell Gold sofa at a steep, steep discount. Thanks to Fun Girl and her interior design job...do you like?

I got it at basically 55% off. Huge deal. Delivered next week. No more sitting on the floor. And at my age, there was really no excuse, no excuse whatsoever for not having one. I had nowhere to make out with my dates...what are we gonna do, roll around on the floor?

Bi weekly ruse of the week from the Fuckwit

Several ruses of the week have occurred since that last one with the coupon...and that coupon, to top things off, was EXPIRED by 8 months. Lame. Lame. Where to begin as I am doing this all in review...



The last ruse was the expired coupon. There were two separate ruses about giving him and some unnamed friend (likely some 28 year old he's fucking) help with technical recruiters. All of the above ruses went unanswered.

So after that, nothing for a week. There's a pattern emerging, one that exists such that we should rename this to biweekly ruse of the week.

The next week, the week before the wedding he and I originally were going to go to on Sept. 14th, I got a phone call from him. It said:

You haven't been responding to my emails. I believe you have blocked me from all of them. Can you please tell me where I can contact you should I need to?

Very business-like. I should note, dear readers, the arrogance in which he conducts himself. He automatically assumes that I didn't get the emails, because if I had, surely I would have responded. Fuckwit. He's clever enough to have sent these emails from email addresses I didn't necessarily block. I blocked his yahoo address on yahoo, but had no idea (at that time) how to block it from my work account. I saw those posts. I just answered with crickets.

Fast forward to Wednesday that week. I had been paralyzed a bit about what to do with that air ticket he bought me. Some of us were planning on going to NY, but no one would commit, and I wasn't sure I could get coverage for mini-me. Let the following be a lesson that supports that whole Goethe quote (http://thinkexist.com/quotation/whatever_you_do-or_dream_you_can-begin_it/13527.html) in that if you just fucking jump out of the plane, your parachute will indeed be there.

I had less than 48 hours til the ticket was no good. I needed to change it to something, just to save the $300 credit with AirTran. So I called them up, and booked the ticket for NYC on the first weekend in Oct.

I had no idea whether NYC boy would be available. I had no idea whether Fun Girl could go. I didn't have a hotel nor a plan. And I didn't yet have a baby sitter or a pet sitter.

Fuck it. I booked it.

The ticket agent said, "We've just sent you your itinerary."

Uh oh. That's not my email address. I gave them mine, and they sent it on to that one as well.

600 seconds elapse. That's how long for it took to reach my inbox. And for my phone to ring. Yes, it was he who should not be named. I let it ring to VM. Here's the gist of it:

Um hey I um just got something I think you need. I really need to um know where to send it. (sounds exasperated by this point) You aren't calling me back. You aren't emailing me. I don't enjoy these calls any more than you.

Yes, yes you do. You social moron. You do enjoy this. I didn't call him back.

Fast forward to last week. Monday. I get an email from him. Its the itinerary. The message says, I think you need this. Don't know where to send.

Then, another email with the itinerary, from a different email address of his, sent to every known address I have ever had. It says, please confirm that at least one of these is unblocked.

So I respond, definitely NOT posthaste, "Confirm."

Nothing. For 48 hours. Then the stupidity begins with another email:

"Do you still use the BJs membership?"

I am honestly tired of writing about this, and there's more to go. So I'll return in a little while with my response.

My personality is no longer in a coma and I am definitely getting laid this week

Hmmm so much to write.

I took some time off, mostly b/c work got busy. Then I was sort of busy on weekends...doing not much of anything.

Sooo where did I leave off. I don't even know where to start.

Def Leppard Concert Boy, aka D:

We've been on several dates. He's taken me to two NC State football games, complete with the tailgating. Nice friends. He's good at including me, making me feel welcome. He's also been training for a triathalon, keeping him busy. He's taken me to his restaurant, introduced me around. I have been liking being around him so much I did the unthinkable.

I went to a Dave Matthews concert.

Yup, you heard me right. DMB. Those of you who have known me for awhile know that I despise that shit. I don't like Phish, I don't like the Grateful Dead. I don't like DMB. I recognize they are good musicians. Damn that fiddle player is amazing. But I don't like it. I've tried. I'm into the whole Virginia thing. You guys know I love that state. But DMB, this I cannot do.

I have to admit, I really don't like its fan base. It's an unimaginative group of frat boys and sorority girls, all conformists, all with their baseball hats and Nissan Xterras.

But I digress. I went to the concert because he asked. And he asked me to bring two of my friends as well, as he had four tickets total. I thought it was sweet. I didn't tell him I hate DMB, I just said I was "lukewarm." That's the nicest thing I've ever said about them. People are banned from playing DMB at Lakehouse...

So I went. The seats were great. He was so generous. Buying me drinks, food. Trying to buy me merchandise (do you want a DMB t-shirt? no, no I don't. really? they look cool. no, no really I don't need another t-shirt.) I had forgotten what it was like to be around a man who isn't cheap.

Every frickin song sounded the same. I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. My friend Harley girl got a little tipsy and was very amusing that night. She sort of passed out in the back seat of his Jeep on the way home (he drove us all...again, this guy is just so nice) but not before asking us to make a run for the border. I wasn't in a Bell sort of mood, so we got McDonald's and ate it on my back patio.

We ate and hung out and talked for awhile. He was looking good. I was watching him talk about his companies, his work, his training, and I was thinking, wow he's cute in this light. I'm thinking I want to have sex with him. I think he might have wanted to have sex with me, but he wasn't pushing for it, and honestly, there was little room at the Inn. Let me explain...

Harley girl went upstairs and passed out in my daughter's room. My daughter, meanwhile, was in the spare room with two of her friends, sleeping. So I had a total of 4 people ALREADY in my upstairs. It was particularly crowded, and I have a noisy bed. It makes too much noise when its in use. We would have woken up the house.

So, I didn't offer and he didn't press, and we made out quietly on the front porch and his kisses are much, much better. He left, my clothes barely mussed and my balls, if I had them, very very blue. I have now gone on six dates, SIX dates with this guy, and not so much as more than a kiss. He'll talk about my fabulous boobs til the cows come home, but will he grope? NOPE.

And as such, being somewhat of a contrarian, I'm getting fished into this. I'm on a mission to get laid by this guy. It's gonna happen. Enough of all this spending money and taking me places. Take me to bed, damnit. A girl's gotta eat, but a girl's GOTTA EAT too.

So, I have a date with him on Thursday night. This time I asked. He's asked for the last 6, thought it was time I put it out there. Sushi and drinks. Then perhaps I'll take him for a test drive.

Punk Boy:

Seen him out a few times. Broke the ice with him a few weeks ago by sending over a shot. Didn't talk to him, just had the bartender deliver the drink and he got wink from me. Hung out with him two Friday nights ago, with my friend Kirsten Dunst look alike, and it was good. Nothing happened. He's having a fling with one of those 25 year old punk girls, I believe.

Saw him again this Friday night. Was out with Fun Girl, and some others. She said there was some staring...but he always does that. He did wander over to say hi, I was very friendly but nothing beyond that. Spent a lot of time on the dance floor talking, just talking with my drummer friend P, in from LA for the weekend, and it probably looked like there was more going on with he and I than there really was. Little Red Corvette came on, and I made no move away from talking to P, and I saw Punk Boy and his 25 year old skedaddle out of there mid-song.

Others on the list:

N, my ex from 12 years ago, was out this past Friday with his super psycho sometimes ex, sometimes not ex girlfriend. I'll call her Militant. Because that's really close to her name and that's who she is. I hug N, and he says, "This is Militant."

And I say, "How do you do? I'm (insert my real name here.)"

She responds, forcefully and with the strength of an NFL quarterback calling a play before the snap, "I'm Militant."

N says, drolly, "Yeah...didn't I just say that?"

She greets me, almost breaks my hand. Spends 15 minutes seeming to get mad about me. She didn't seem to. She got mad. Fun Girl told me not to look over and make it worse. Then, apparently to appease her about me (I was looking pretty good, I must say) he made a comment about me being practially engaged.

Whoa whoa whoa. I know. Stop the presses. At this moment, I could not be more single. Honestly, I've never been so single in my life. Probably not since 8th grade. Probably not since 3rd grade.

So, she tests him and me on that statement. Says to me, in front of everyone:

"Congratulations on getting engaged."

I thought I didn't hear her right. I mean, that's possible right. I mis-hear shit all the time. I just miss shit totally. So I say, excuse me?

"Congratulation on your engagement..."

I tell her I'm not engaged, and I look very very confused. Everyone else around has a shocked look on their face. The two of them leave, and they have a fight brewing. Those of us left behind, we just say WTF????

My writer friend - the 30 year old - from NYC:
I am IM'ing with him as I write this. (I am also IMing with D the concert boy, and it feels good to be juggling again.) I am visiting him this weekend. He's single too. And I'm anxious to finish what we started last year. I've thought of him off and on since then, and as of late, we've talked more. I get some sweet texts from him like this:

"Dangerous. This city." Sent at 3 am on a Thursday night/Friday morning.

That's all. Enough that's he's not overt or stupid or dirty when he is drunk texting.

So he's trying to set up time for Absinthe at the Waverly Inn. I've got us set up at The Hudson. I'm starving myself starting NOW. (A lot of good that will do. I've kept the weight that I have lost off but haven't moved below 116 down to my goal of 110....oh well.) I predict that yes, these pipes will be clean. He's a cutie. He's thirty. He's got a full head of hair and he's more confident than that fuckwit I dated when my personality was in a coma.

Speaking of him. He DOES INDEED for sure dye his hair. He admitted it in an email to me today. That will have to wait. I am tired, I need to IM some more with that sweet NYC boy who is still smitten with me as his older woman fantasy before I call it a night.

Sorry I haven't written. Started on the actual novel and it took some juice out of me...

Oh and I should add

Nothing but crickets all week on the 10th grade boyfriend front. No "I didn't come to town this week" and no other excuses. Nothing. Weird.

Ruse of the week - again - and this one is the lamest of all

Only little things have happened in the past week, and I am slammed at work and exhausted (mini-me got a stomach virus that kept us very busy for 24 hours) so I'll be lazy writer today and just list this shit out:

• Nothing on Punk Boy...no emails, haven't run into him in two weeks. He's changed his song on MySpace to "Beast of Burden" and there could totally be a message there, b/c that is his style, but I'm not assuming its for me.
• Heard nothing from D the guy who took me to Def Leppard until Thursday of last week (he was supposed to return from Cabo on Tuesday...) and had almost written him off. Then he started chatting with me online and explained that he got stuck down there, what with an earthquake and that Category 5 hurricane that hit Mexico/Central America and all...so we chatted briefly and then I said I had to run
• He pinged me the next day around 4:15 to chat for a bit, and it was fun and flirty (you should come on this trip to Cabo next year!) but again I exited the chat first and said I had to run...
• Went to a party for RS2/Hotness - now home from India- on Friday night. Went with apprehension...I love RS and RS2 but I really want to move on from anything associated with that company, mostly b/c he who should not be named still works there and I'm purging everything about him out of my life for good. I survived the party and had fun, but it did, because of some stories I learned about him, give me a sick feeling in my stomach that I really don't need in my life
• Went out with T for drinks afterwards at JP! No sign of Punk Boy but his whole entourage was there and it was a fete for that girl he used to date for two years (ahhh so that's why he didn't come out)
• Went to the Lakehouse for rest of weekend with J and our daughters. Went wakeboarding and loved it.
• Got another IM from D, concert boy, first thing Monday morning. Wanted to chat for awhile...asked me to dinner sometime this weekend. We chatted back and forth for 15 minutes, told him my mini-me was sick, home from school and I really needed to run...
• Got a call from Fuckwit, he who should not be named, around 1. I didn't answer. (Yeay. I'm proud of myself for all this self control I have shown. Many thanks to all my friends for encouraging this.) He left a message. It sounded awkward as ass and I'll re-create it here (although it was so laughable, I did not delete should any of you want to listen...):

"Um hi its (insert Fuckwits name here). I um found this coupon, this $10 off coupon for Deramax that I think I should send to you. Um, I have sent you some emails, but I think you have blocked me from your addresses, um, including your (insert company name here) account because ahhh you um haven't responded. Well um, I guess um that's it."

A fucking coupon? That's the ruse?! A fucking coupon for medicine for my dog that she no longer even takes! He's so fucking cheap that he thought that thing would be of value to me. So the only reason I wouldn't respond is because I've blocked him? (I did that after I received those stupid emails...) I couldn't possibly be not responding because he's the biggest jerk this state has ever known? He really doesn't get that he's not someone I want to see speak with, or help in any way possible. He doesn't deserve that, after all he's done. But he also doesn't see that - he thinks we just "ended badly." Again, I wouldn't help that fuckwit or any of his cronies cross the street, let alone help them get a job.

So nothing more. Around 8;45, my business line, which has no caller ID on it, rang and someone hung up when I answered. Puzzling. But I think I know who that was.

Got a nice text, first one ever, on my phone from D the concert boy: "How's your daughter doing tonite? Feeling better?"

He's doing well, that one. He's trying.

Let's call him whackoff smirnoff

Not too much happening. Quick round-up of events:

Had a small gathering on Friday night, and got to meet N's, the ex, new squeeze. We'll call her Philly girl. I think he's uncomfortable with her - he says its like dating him in that she's dating around and doesn't care what he thinks. Well, I said, karma is a bitch, isn't it?

Headed down to Oak Island/Southport for the rest of the weekend early Sat, very hungovah, and had McDonald's on the way down. There went my diet for the rest of the weekend.

The weekend was very fun, but not too much to report on. Nice house, gracious and generous hosts who paid for everything, and a lot of drinking. A lot. Started at 11 am and didn't stop all day. My liver was begging me to leave. We made many jokes about the ex - the subject line is but just one:

• He was banking at Whackovia and making many deposits in the spank bank
• Let's stop referring to him as whack a mole. Let's call him whackoff smirnoff. He liked the vodka, didn't he?

There was five of us, with me as odd man out, til Saturday night. A guy named Tom was coming over. One of my friends said, hey, maybe (insert my name here) could hit that. And my other friend, said, no I'm not gonna let that happen. I think he's gay, too effeminate.

Of course I am thinking to myself - ooooh love the fem guys. If he looks like he might be gay, bring it on. I'm all about that. Let him look like Richard Butler, or some of the guys I dated in the 80's. Please!

I come downstairs after getting ready and there he is at the counter, eating shrimp. And I think to myself, wow, that's not at all the person I expected. My friend wasn't gonna let me hit it b/c he's too fem...

She isn't gonna let me hit it because he's too fat.

He was easily, easily 300 pounds. Ugh.

He was fem, but he was sooooo large. I was not digging it at all.

Have not heard from the 10th grade ex. Crickets. I think he's changed his mind about seeing me...oh well.

Off to work.

New Ruse of the Week

New email, sent to a personal email address I didn't think he knew, saying that he was emailing at this account b/c he thought I had blocked him from my IBM account, and thanks for not blocking him from Linked In and that someone he works with needs a technical recruiter.

I wouldn't help that balding douchebag fuckwit cross the fucking street. What makes him think I would help him or anyone he "knows" with names?

What makes him think that what he did would make this okay? He certainly didn't help me when I needed it. His audacity slays me.

He looks like Snape....

that keyboardist does. That's why I like him...oh well. At least I am consistent.

Joe Elliot likes to swing...

his hair around on stage.

Impossible Odds

Tommy Shaw singing Blue Collar Man - first song of the set.

He had me at the eye makeup or Pour Some Sugar on Me Redux

My date with D ended at 11:30, and this time the kiss was much, much better. He is still obsessed with my boobs, but I'm willing to overlook this to see where it goes. It strikes me as just him being a geek. We'll see what happens with this one - he's off to Cabo on vacay in two days...

But on to the good stuff. The concert. It's been awhile since I had front row seats to a big show. The last one was probably either B52's (that was second row, but close enough...) or Billy Idol (which was, most definitely, first row with Hospital Diva. ) But I digress.

Foreigner opened - and they played all the old stuff, none of the 80's soft rock shit. We were right/center - there being a platform that the performers could walk on to the left of us. The first interesting moment came when the new singer of Foreigner - not Lou Gramm but a guy much sexier and good looking in the vein of Steven Tyler - sang right at me during Dirty White Boy. Nice. Nice moment. I love front row. Then, much to my date's delight, the guitarist who is also the sax player on Urgent, was playing right in front of me, winked at me then gave the thumbs up sign to my date. The bassist (a guy named Bilson who was in both Dokken and Dio (I love Dio)) turned and shook his head affirmatively at him and then at us. D loved it! So did I - how could I not?! They played to us most of the show. And....the drummer winked at me several times - loved that as it was Jason Bonham (he with the famous Led Zeppelin dad and all.) I even got some Mick Jones action...he came from stage right over to our area and showed me some love. Whoohooo! I love the front row! I've got high hopes.

Styx was next. I have to admit, I've not been a fan. In fact, I was thinking of trying to skip out on this set entirely and go in search of a cigarette to bum. However, I did not, and was glad I stayed. Tommy Shaw was in front of us most of the show, and he was amazing. However, that was not the big thing for me about Styx.

You guys know I don't like older men, but...the keyboardist, Lawrence Gowan, oh my god. He was just straight out of the 80's, all dark longish spiky hair and lots of makeup. He's got a great ass, which you can clearly see through his tight pants. Wearing some black outfit that was just so Simon Le Bon from that New Romantics era. He was a strange mixture of Simon Le Bon, Joe Elliot and Bill Murray (there you go Ad Girl) wrapped into one. Damn, he's probably gay, but whatever. I like that type. He had me at the eye makeup. I'll overlook the mullet. Here's a link to a photo someone took of him on tour.

http://entertainment.webshots.com/photo/2130193340045984108BmTdFj?vhost=entertainment

I notice him right away. He's on the other side of the stage. He's theatrical (there you go, probably gay, but I digress) and I'm waiting for him to notice me. Will he? Hello! I'm right here! First song, Wanted Man, nope. I'm sending telepathic messages. Plus I have fantastic cleavage going, seems to help the telepathy a bit with men. Then during the second song, he makes eye contact, and watches me for awhile. I've got him. Damn - this shit works! How do I know? He glances over a lot. And then, during a song that I don't recognize, sung by James Young, where the keyboards apparently aren't needed, he comes over to our side of the stage. He's playing to the crowd to the right of me, then points right at me and says "You!" I point right back and say, "No, you!" Big smile. A wink. Damn! I love the front row. I'm so digging this man.

His big number is Come Sail Away (a song I still hate, but with him singing, I'll listen oh so attentively) and I get some more love when he's at center stage. They sing a few more songs, then leave but its obvious they need to do one more song. They come back out with Styx paraphenalia (beach balls, bags) and Gowan throws his stuff out there into the crowd, except for the last bag, which he walked over to me. NICE. Another wink. Love this man. They do the last song -I think it was Renegade (I am not a Styx fan) and exit the stage. He waves and I blow a kiss.

So am I gonna get some eye contact with Joe Elliot. Am I? I am so ready at this point.

The Lepps come out, and its all shiny and videos with Rocket. Phil Collen is RIGHT IN FRONT OF US. He's been described by someone who has actually met him as a wee little man, but wow is this guy in shape. Holy shit. His shirt was off most of the concert and rightfully so. I have the pics, and they will be posted on MySpace posthaste. On to Joe Elliot. Well...

Joe has...ummm

Joe has gained some weight. But I'm still diggin him. I can't help it. Man, he's got great eyes. And still has great hair. He might be the only man alive who I would rather see in a mullet, although I was clearly digging that guy from Styx and he's kind of got a mullet. Anyway. He's not nearly as good as the other guys at making eye contact with the front row, but he's got a camera on him some of the time and he needs to be looking right into it.

I surprisingly get a lot of attention from the drummer. Sweet! Lots of smiles. A wink. God I love the front row. Thank god for cleavage.

I do get two moments of eye contact with Joe. The first is during Foolin, and its a really nice 5 seconds of him singing a verse right to me. Oh thank you lord. Thankyou thankyou thankyou! D was like, don't distract him, he's going to mess up! Oh pulease...

Photograph, as usual, was my favorite song of theirs, live or recorded. Amazing. Amazing. There's just so much of me and my history wrapped up in that song - hearing it first in Kentucky, watching Def Leppard videos with attorney girl, listening to it in college, playing on random jukeboxes, dancing to that song even today with my iPod.

During Pour Some Sugar on me, the cameras spent some time on the audience a few times. Guess who was the big winner, and got herself up on all those video screens (all four of them - two on stage and two on each side of the stage)?? Guess? Guess! Who's the big winner? That's right, I sang/lip synched an entire chorus of that song on the big screen. I did not watch myself as I was too busy staring into the camera guy directly in front of me, but D said it was amazing and that anyone who knew me at the concert would definitely know it was me and my boobs up there on those screens. I only wish Fun Girl had seen it, because she would be laughing her ass off at me.

One more Joe moment, during Rock of Ages, I got some eye contact. Nice. Nice way to end it all. They left the stage, and the drummer gave me a sweet wave.

I love the front row. I fucking love the front row. Tonite was total success. I had the most amazing time.

And I am seriously thinking of traveling to see Styx...

Sunday, from ex mother in laws to Nickelback, the hits keep comin'

Sunday morning.

I had to go pick up mini me and he grandmother (my ex mother in law) at 10 am. This was not the original plan. This was not supposed to happen til around 4. But plans change, kids need to go back to DC, and I am left entertaining and hosting my ex mother in law for a full 24 hours.

I wasn't particularly close to this woman when I was married to her son, and now? Well, she is mini-me's grandmother, and they get to spend another day together, and all I need to do is let her stay here and bring her to the airport on Monday morning. It was okay, just not what I had wanted my Sunday to be.

Sunday night, however, was full of surprises. I took mini-me, begrudgingly, to Nickelback with Harley Girl and her own mini-her. It was my mini-me's first concert, and it was a doozy. I saw:

• A lot of people. None of whom I knew. Did not run into a single person I knew. Odd for me, but maybe not, considering the crowd.
• The crowd. The crowd. There was a not so diverse crowd. Most people were aged 18-25, and particularly cheesy. Pretty white. The 24 year old version of me would never have been at this concert, for sure.
• A lot of rednecks. Lots of people from Fayetteville and Garner, knowhutimean?
• A weird guy with yacht hair and khakis. Clearly he had lost his way and thought he was coming to see DMB.
• A girl wearing a shirt that said "Little Miss Trouble." I clearly got the trouble part. However, there was nothing little about her and clearly she had not missed any meals in the last 20 years.
• Lots of tits. Lots of girls flashing the camera, just before and during Nickelback's set. Wow. I told the girls, "Don't be that girl when you are older..." They won't listen I bet, but I least I did my job and warned them not to.
• Girls, about 15, smoking in the bathroom. It bothered me a bit. Someone had to give them those cigarettes....

So now comes the funny part. I took mini me to this, but really don't like the songs too much with the exception for "I know who you are" (I like your pants around your feet, I like the dirt that's on your knees...) The concert started, and I looked over, and there's my mini-me, wearing her black t-shirt, hands in the air, screaming, looking like she has been going to concerts her whole life. Ahhh this is good. I'm gonna remember this. She's never gonna forget it.

I loved the concert.

I did.

Really.

They were good. They sounded good. They played well. There was pyrotechnics, fire, sing along parts, lots of good conversation with the crowd ( and more than "we love you Raleigh") and the songs were just FUN. They covered Elton John's Saturday Night. They did my two favorite songs at the end. The live version of Someday gave me chills up my neck, with the crowd singing along. I was right there with them. I jumped in and the water was just fine. I sang every word to that song Someday, and it was a weird sort of therapy for me, thinking back on both situations with D the fiancee and the Social Moron while singing the words. It was a song that was popular when the fiancee and I broke up, but it played out more to the situation with he who should not be named. I think, in the end, that singing some of these song lines just ended up being a sort of meditation to the universe for me, the music was loud, it was dark, it was crowded, I was dancing. Everyone around was singing as loud as they could. Everything just was really, really good at those moments. I didn't want to be anywhere else. The best moments:

• How the hell did we wind up like this?
• You're the only one who knows that...
• If everyone loved, and nobody lied...
• Show me what its like to be the last one standing...
• I hate that places that we go, I hate the people that you know...

I would say there were 6 songs - all of them the big radio hits - that were really, really amazing to hear. Just to sing along with mini-me and mini-harley, just to sing out in general.

Photograph was not one of them. I still fucking hate that song.

The lead singer really knows how to drop an f-bomb. Wow did the girls get an earful. I know my coolness meter has now dropped to an all time low, but I clearly don't give a fuck. I loved that show. Live music gets me. They were LOUD. I think I'm a fan now. How could I not be?

Mini-me's take on the way home?

"God mom, that was just awesome."

Saturday Night's All Right All Right All Right Woooo

Who was it?

It was Punk Boy, who had never been to Federal before. Sitting there, saying hi to us and laughing. I grab his hand, squeeze it, and say - weird. He laughs. We keep moving on, and walk into the bar.

Once inside and behind the door, all three of us face each other, and no one says a thing for about 5 seconds.

Then N says, Wow. You had just finished that sentence when he said hi to us.

T says, yeah. I know. The universe is fucking with us. Fucking with you (turning to me) specifically.

Then they both look at me and say, You need a drink, and fast.

So we get a drink. The only table available is that table in the front, the one in front of the GIANT window to the patio, that same table where I got set up on a date with Social Moron almost two years ago. We sit there, but I put my back to the window, as he is sitting just outside.

N says, who the hell is he with? It's an older woman, a blond, a guy, somebody else.

I say, Oh! That's his mom, his sister, her boyfriend. He said they were coming. You know, he's never been to Federal...this isn't his place or anything. We told him last Saturday night now much we love this place...

N, gotta love his humour, says: Wow. And here you come, walking up that sidewalk like you do, all tight jeans, high heels and Miller High Life t-shirt that just screams "classy" with a guy on each side of you. And after you walk by, he gets to tell his mom, that that girl, that girl in the miller high life t-shirt who is out with two men, that's the girl I went on a few dates with. Ha!

I laughed my ass off at that. The Punk Boy entourage left within 30 minutes. We however, stayed and drank and ate - they were playing a weird but beautiful mix of Peter Murphy, The Smiths, The Sundays, New Order.

Moved on to Green Room. Played some pool, and owned the jukebox for an hour. Pulp Fiction, Neil Diamond.

We dropped T off, then headed to Alibi for a drink. It was like we couldn't stand to be outside of Raleigh, for fear of missing something. Silly, but we both felt it. Went to JP! for last call, weird crowd there, few that we knew.

The night ended when the ugly lights came on and it was past last call for alcohol, and we went our separate ways to catch up on sleep.

S-a-tur-day night. From T's mouth to God's ears in a nanosecond

Saturday during the day was bizzzzeeee.

Hung out with my friend P as she cleaned my house. I love that woman. So fun.

Then drove mini-me's friend, the one who will never be alone as she has "the list", up to Kerr Lake for the party. I stayed at the party for four hours, hanging out with my ex, his mother, his wife, a few old friends, and a new friend who is now engaged to one of those old friends. Weird mix of people, weird to be hanging out at my ex's house and spending a few hours talking with his wife, but I made the best of it and mini-me SO LOVED me being there, having both her parents in one place for awhile. You could tell she was digging it, and that made me dig it too.

I headed back down to Raleigh around 5:30, and got a ton of messages when I got service back just north of Oxford. Fun girl. N and T, making plans for that night. Double Down called and said he needed to talk. (It turned out that he wanted to ask Fun Girl out. I told him to give it time. In reality, she's never gonna go out with him. He's a musician, and the new rule is: You can have a harmonica, nothing more. Anything else, and we're outta there.)

So I go home quickly take a bath and get myself decent. Put on my oh so slutty Miller High Life the champagne of beers tight shirt and jeans and high heels and head to T's house for cocktail hour. We drink there for awhile, realize that some people have dropped out and its just the three of us for the night, and decide to head to Durham, as we have worn out Raleigh. Worn it out.

We drive. Park off Main, and start walking to Federal. T, at that point on the sidewalk, says:

We should be pretty safe here from drama for all us. Hopefully Slutty won't be here, but at least the two of you are pretty safe from running into anyone here.

Famous last words...just as those words left his mouth, who do we see sitting right there, saying hi to us, from the Federal patio?

Thank god it was Friday

The weekend was non stop, full of highs and lows, and I had no time, no time to write. I'll start with Friday.

Friday night began with texts. My friend J sent me a text while I was still working that said:

Oooh the good looking lifeguard is here at the pool. I'm taking the afternoon off...

Oh I wish I could. I was in work hell at that moment.

Then, I took a quick break when my ex hubby and his mom came by to pick up mini-me. Nothing notable there, but I would rather have been at the pool. While they were here, I got two texts from Fun Girl:

Rally the troops!

Dooood. Is it 8:00 yet?

I headed downtown at 7:30 in one of my best little black dresses. Met J, J, Fun Girl for apps at Nana's. N and T showed up an hour later, as did some of Fun Girl's extended family. Lots of drinks. Gossip. Discussed whack a mole social moron a bit, lots of laughs there. Then the discussion of where to move on to...

Let's do Ess...nope can't do that, so and so might be there. Let's do Mosquito...nope, the ex is definitely there tonite. Glenwood South area? Nope, social moron potential. And too cheesy anyway. That one is definitely out. Slim's outside? Nope, former fella of dreams might be there. Gotta avoid that one for a few weeks. Okay, let's do Alibi. Nope, too emo on Friday nights. Okay...White Collar? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Going once...going twice.

No one had a reason for not going there. So we went.(This is a small town. You can see we have limited choices when you try to avoid exes.)

So we went. And it was, well...it just was. Not great. Nothing happening. We were bored. I think maybe we needed some drama.

We proceeded to JP!, as everyone thought that was the least prickly of situations to be in, and I had an entourage anyways. "C'mon. You're gonna have to go there at some point. Get the first yucky night out of the way."

I asked N to be my wing man all night - take one for the team as Fun Girl was yours last week there- and he said, I won't leave your side unless you want me to.

So we walk in. And yeah, its just like it always is. Yeah, there is Punk Boy with Double Down on that side of the bar. I'm getting some looks from that direction. L comes running up to talk to me...told her I was going to avoid that side of the bar for awhile, need some space. She was like, yeah that's a weird situation, eh? So we order drinks and proceed to go into the room o'pool and plop down on the benches.

And it was fun. Shots being bought. Hanging out with T. Fun Girl is buzzing all over the place in there. Good times. 15 minutes pass. Then Double Down comes over. Beeline straight for me.

You need to come hang out on the other side. Come over with us.

I responded:

Nooo. I'm giving that some space. I'm not mad, just hurt a bit. I don't need to be hanging around Punk Boy when I've been drinking like this.

He was like, why do you feel weird. You ended it, didn't you?

Uh, no. Dude. He didn't want to have sex with me. I surely did with him.

Blah blah blah. He left. The rest of us proceeded to continue playing pool, drinking, flirting. You get the picture. I'm doing fine. I'm having a ball. We're all crowded around each other on that bench near the windows. Then Fall Girl (remember her) brings in Punk Boy - dragging him in.

Everyone sitting around me FLIES off of that bench and runs for the corner, the other pool table, the bathroom. There I am on the bench, alone, with all my friends looking on and Punk Boy sits down. He's clearly intoxicated.

I congratulated him on the letter to the editor to start if off on a good note. And then I was like, you really didn't have to come over here, sorry she dragged you over. He said, no, its no big deal, its a bar we both come to. I said, yeah, look I'm not mad, just giving myself a bit of space. I really liked you, last Saturday night was a bit confusing, just don't want to confuse things any further for myself. But thanks for coming over...blah blah small talk and he leaves.

Yeah, then everyone flies back to the bench, like magnets. And they all look at me and say:

God, that was awkward.

I say nah. I'm okay. Got it out of the way! I've got you guys here.

After some time, the group gets me on the dance floor, which I wasn't ready for but I did anyway. Thank god that N and I can still dance with each other and have fun, even as friends, because it was good to have that with Punk Boy right behind me on the dance floor. Fun Girl said he was standing right behind me, and he was watching. And he was getting himself beers, and he was watching. But honestly, I was in a mode where I just had to concentrate on dancing to operate somewhat with the appearance of sobriety. I couldn't be looking around.

We had a late night at N's house. And I slept, on the floor, with N, in my party dress, like brother and sister btw. We both had a good laugh when we woke up in the morning like that - jesus, how old are we he said.

Another walk of shame, with nothing to be shameful of except how it all appeared, Saturday morning.

Well done, Punk Boy

Punk boy got published today in the N&O - a letter to the editor on the subject of faith.

I sent him a congratulatory email. Fun Girl thought that was the right thing to do.

Guess this gives away who he is...I removed the link though.

My hooha was sitting on that?!

Say it ain't so, Jenna!

Jenna J is not only giving up porn, she had her implants removed! The world is a sadder place today...

Big shout out to Homey out there in Denver/San Diego. I loved talking to you last night. (Thanks for asking about Punk Boy. All that's on hiatus, possibly permanently but never say never.) But girl, you gotta ditch that Michael Buble quoting, ex-wife missing dick. Seriously. There are other men out there who are great in bed. Trust me. It just takes one good encounter to squash the dickwit inside of you. I don't even think of he who should not be named in that way anymore, even though he was a fucking volcano in bed.

I have to say, you gave some amazing quotes last night. I am seriously considering making my next profession bed and breakfast proprietor - if only for this:

"I'm gonna go run this b&b. It's got 10 rooms, and with that, the chances of me getting laid once a week in that place are very, very good."

I love that philosophy. Yeah, hotel management, here I come! We should open one together with 20 rooms...increase the odds for both of us.

After we got off the phone with you, we discussed the fact that Japan is the perfect place for assholes. He who should not be named is there right now. (Rock Star's man Vegas said that would be the reason why there was no ruse of the week. He's in Asia, and he's all out of ruses.) They probably wouldn't let your guy in if he tried to travel to Japan right now:

"No, so sorry. We have our quota of assholes at the moment. We have a big one here in Yamato. No more lying bastards toting red bull and wearing striped shirts...We really don't care if you have a big dick."

And thanks to Rock Star and entourage for coming over for Pimms and wearing striped shirts. It was loud! We fucking rocked! You left your red bull! Text Me! This town sucks! I'm getting a gyro! Look at my chest hair!

And, finally, Fun Girl. We missed you last night. Go A-team!

The Def Leppard guy, D, left this instant message on my screen last night regarding the concert on Monday night:

Ticketmaster called.

Said I couldn't take that wild chick I brought last time...

(blushing smiley face icon here)

Your Latest Trick

I have a 9th and 10th grade bf that I think about from time to time...

And, as of late, as in all periods of, ahem, reflection in my life, I have been thinking of him more often. Especially since the short conversation, two weeks ago, with Attorney Girl, who pointed out that said BF's name is an almost exact replica of Social Moron's name - same first, and almost same sounding last - right down to number of syllables and ending. And she pointed out that they both look similiar. And they are both very very preppy and almost WASPy. (New Caanan in the house!) The old BF in that, I played hockey and attended boarding school, staight outta Love Story way. And Social Moron with the one accomplishment in his life -Ivy League college.

But I digress. For a reason.

After this thinking, this putting it out there to the universe, I got an email the other day on Linked In. You can imagine my suprise when my inbox said (insert his real name here) wants to connect on Linked In. I clicked on the email. It was not the canned request I so often get. He had customized it:

Hi (insert my name here)!
Look at us now, going from teenage love notes to connecting on Linked In. How far we have come! Hope you are well. I think of you often.

So I accepted the invite to connect. And I wrote him back.

Hi (insert the usual)!
Indeed! I am well, still here in NC. Hope you are well too! Let me know if you are ever in town and we can grab coffee or a drink and catch up after all this time. I think of you often as well....

And I sent it.

And I waited. I am PMSing, so the wait became ridiculous. Nothing that day. Nothing yesterday. I checked email so many times. I was OCD about it. I was jonesing about it last night. Listening to old songs - the title of this post is big one from that time -and just obsessing.

And then, I go to check my email today. And as the inbox is opening up, I'm muttering to myself: damnit. write me. this is ridiculous. you send me this note. you get me all hot. then nothing? what is this. damn you.

And there was the note. I'll cut and paste it as I have it framed on my desk already. Just kidding. Really.

Hey (you guys know who I am),
I plan to be in the RDU area after labor day weekend. Are you in-town? I'd like to plan my trip to ensure that we'll be able to see one-another so let me know what yoiur schedule is.

I hope all is well with you and look forward to seeing you.

Love,
(his real name)

Well. My little present for today. More inspiration to look my best. Two weeks to go.

PS- Attorney girl predicts he hasn't aged well. We'll do a poll next week to see how everyone here feels it will go.