A Morbid To-Do List

I was having a conversation with a friend the other day.
She mentioned that she and her S.O. might be planning a cruise for next year.
She said that it's something she's always wanted to do before she dies; well that and go to Disney World.
Before she dies she wants to take a cruise and go to Disney World.  Those are easily attainable goals. 
This made me think, though.  What do I want to accomplish before I die?  There are many things I'd like to do but I never thought about it in the context of doing it before I died.
It makes a difference believe it or not.  It makes you think that we really don't have that much time.
I've said it many times that life is precarious, life is fleeting and most of the time you don't get a warning before it ends.  And as far as I know, when it ends, it ENDS.  I don't think we get second turns, however, I could be wrong. 
But just in case, I think we should live at full capacity.  Err on the side of caution, so to speak.

So, in keeping with this idea, I made a list of things I'd like to do before I die.
I reserve the right to delete or add as many things as I want.

Things To Do Before I Die:

• Get thin


• Go to the Oscars in a fabulous gown


• Become a published author


• Love without fear


• Travel Europe


• Live in other cities/states/countries


• Meet my soulmate


• Find out why and how my nephew died


• Learn ballroom dancing


• Go blonde or color my hair pink


• Hang out with Dave Grohl


• Shop (with lots of money) on Rodeo Drive


• Vacation in Costa Rica


• Own my own home


• Learn to truly meditate and turn my brain off for at least a moment


• Spend a month on the Greek Islands


• Tell certain people how I really feel

Tool Time

I can't believe I haven't told you guys my Tim Allen story.
I was reminded of it late last night after a conversation with the tiny one himself.
Although, he wasn't impressed, it's always been one of my favorite stories.

Several years ago, my best friend, Lon, her sister-in-law, their cousin and I decided to have a girls night out at the movies.
We were WAY too early for the movie so we decided to hit a local bar and have a drink while we wait.
Of course, the movie never happened.  Once we started drinking, watching a movie seemed boring and less alcoholic.
Anyhow...this bar was one of those that are located inside of a hotel.  It had some stupid name like Pepper's or Banana's or Banana Pepper's or some shit like that.
There is a dance floor, a jukebox, a long bar along a mirrored wall and crazy colored disco lights everywhere.  This would have been a happenin' place had anyone been there.
We walked in like Carrie Bradshaw and the girls on a Saturday night but the only ones in the whole joint were a couple in a dark booth and a few men at the bar.
Because the bar was dark and there were colored lights flashing all over the place and due to the weirdness of the mirrored wall behind the bar, we couldn't tell if there were 4 guys, 8 guys or 20.
I don't remember really even noticing them at first anyway.  We just grabbed a table and ordered drinks.

Now, like I said, this was several years -and pounds- ago.  I was young and I was pretty hot at the time.  I was wearing this black mini skirt, black heels and a silk, multi-colored blouse.  The colors were jewel-tones and apparently, like small babies, men respond to bright colors because this blouse got me a lot of attention that night.

I'm sure I'm getting the sequence of events wrong and Lon, feel free to add what I might have left out in the comments, but this is sort of how I remember it:
I'm not sure what number drink we were on but the music was playing, we were laughing and giggling like girls do and the next thing I know, there is this man standing at our table.
He tells me that his friend thinks I'm attractive and would like to dance with me.
Believe it or not, I was a little shy and I'm sure I blushed and said "No thank you."
He kept pressing me, telling me his friend noticed me the moment I walked into the place because my top was so beautiful.  maybe he meant breasts?
He even said his friend would pick up our tab if I danced with him.
Now, if this happened today, my ass would have been out of my chair before he said "tab" but, again, I was young and I was starting to find this pretty creepy.
I think my friends were too but they were laughing their asses off, happy they weren't me.

Finally, I told the man that #1:  I wasn't going to dance with his friend on an empty dance floor and #2:  If the friend wanted to dance with me so bad, he could come ask me himself.

He went back to the bar and because we were all suddenly shy, we tried hard not to look in their direction.  We KNEW they were talking about us and we were a little self conscious by this time.

A little later, I found my way to the ladies room and one of the other guys from the bar coming out of the men's room.  He smiled and nodded at me then said, "You know, that really is a great blouse."
What the hell?  It's just a silk blouse!

I'm not sure how long we sat there drinking but eventually all the guys left and the waitress came up to our table.
"Girl, you blew it!  Totally BLEW it!"  she told me.
"Don't you know who that guy was that wanted to dance with you?"

We all shook our heads, we couldn't see the guys faces at the bar.

"It's the guy from that Home Improvement show.  Tim Allen!"

"Get out of here!  It was not!"  We all scoffed.

"He is filming some commercial around here.  He was going to buy all your drinks if you would have just danced with him.  But you blew it."
She kept saying "blew it" and it was starting to piss me off.
We didn't believe her anyway.

She left the table and returned a second later with his bar bill, signed....
Tim Allen.

Funktastic

I'm in a funk, kids.
It's one of those my-life-sux-so-I'm-just-going-to-sit-here-and-eat-ice-cream funks.
It's not an existential funk where you think "what am I doing with my life?" or a bad mood funk where you hate everyone.
I just want to lay in bed and watch bad TV and Showgirls (shank!).
Oh sure, I'll get over it.  Funks never last.  That's something you learn with age.  Everything seems hopeless, worthless and shitty for a while; then the tides turn, the planets realign and things seem to be pretty good again.

Sometimes I think that's why really young people commit suicide.  They haven't yet learned that it's shitty for a while, then good for a while, then shitty again, then good again.  They feel like it's going to be shitty forever.

I guess that's the upside of getting old...it's ebb and flow baby; yin and yang, funk and nofunk.

In Lieu of a Real Post...

I'm giving you a dreaded meme:

Fun with Four
Four jobs you have had in your life:

1. Grocery store cashier
2. Retail clerk at Pfaltzgraff
3  Optometric Assistant
4. IT/Librarian

Four movies you would watch over and over:

1. Gone With The Wind
2. Showgirls
3. Selena
4. The Commitments

Four places you have lived:

1. Waynesboro, MS
2.
3.
4. Houston, TX

Four TV shows you love to watch:

1. Seinfeld
2. Alias
3. Sex in the City
4. 24

Four places you have been on vacation:

1. Las Vegas, Nv
2. All over California
3. Toronto
4. Key West, Fl

Four websites I visit daily:

1. Mine
2. Yahoo News
3. Yours
4. Overheard In New York

Four of my favorite foods:

1. Chocolate
2. Vietnamese
3. Buffalo Chicken Salad from Chili's
4. Hamburger Helper

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Greek Islands
2. French countryside
3. Tuscany
4. Cornwall, England

Hamburger Eyebrows

I normally get my eyebrows arched and waxed pretty often...I'd have huge Brooke Shield caterpillars on my head if I didn't.

I've been putting off going recently because I stopped having my nails done and the little ladies harrass me about it when I come in to have my eyebrows done.  This one particular chick is exceptionally good at it...better than anyone else so I still want to go see her but it's hard to explain to someone that doesn't speak English well that I bought a new car and had to do away with some excessive expenses.

So, my eyebrows are growing wild and even though I am a plucker, I thought I'd use this great little eyebrow shaper I've had for a few years.  It's basically a straight razor wrapped with wire on a stick.  However, like I said, I have had it for a few years and it was a little dull so I stopped into my local Walgreens to get a package of new ones.
They didn't have the kind I bought previously but they had something similar...these: 

I get home and try them out. 
I try it on one eye and it seems awkward, like I can't get my hand in the right angle, so I move over to the other eye and try again.  After actually trying to shape the eyebrow, I realize that the razor doesn't look right.
I study it closely and realize that it's missing that wire wrapping that makes it safe.
It's just a plain ol' straight razor on a plastic stick.
I then look up at myself in the mirror...I was bleeding.  I was fucking BLEEDING!
BOTH eyebrows looked like Edward Scissorhands tried to apply my eyeshadow.
This dangerous weapon sliced my skin open and I couldn't tell until blood started seeping from the thin openings.

Now, I feel like the whole world is staring at me, wondering what the fuck happened to my face.
It hurts to blink and God help me if I have to be cute and do facial expression.  Just one movement of the eyebrow is monumentally painful.

It wasn't until the next day that I looked this product up on the internet and read reviews from other women who butchered their eyebrows with this tool of destruction.
I thought about throwing them away as soon as I got home but I thought better of it.
If ever I'm attacked by ninjas, I now have a useful weapon.

Happy Birthday Skippy...

a little late.
Yesterday was skippy's birthday.  I'm ashamed at myself for missing it.
Skippy deserves better than that.
When I'm feeling blue, I head over to skippy's house to read about how he thinks of me (among others) while he pleasures himself.  What girl wouldn't swoon?
Thanks for including me in your fantasies, skippy.
Happy Birthday!

Summer Teeth

Yesterday, a good looking gentleman found his way into my work area.
He picked a book up from my desk and asked if he could look at it.
I thought it was rather presumptuous to take something off my desk but I smiled and nodded.  I was busy helping someone anyway.
He sat right across from my desk and read MY book for about 30 minutes.

Finally, he asked if he could buy the book.  I said, "It's not for sale.  It's actually my book."

"So, I guess you want to keep it?"

I lifted my eyebrows and said "Well, I don't know.  Maybe we can negotiate."   See, the flirting?  It's just instinctive, involuntary.  I don't know I'm doing it til it's out of my mouth.
For this guy, it was like I was waving him in.

He got out of his chair, walked over to me, knelt down so we were at eye level and he started talking.
Now, up to this moment, I thought he was a good looking guy; a little older but I've always had a thing for older men.

But when he got close to me, when he opened his mouth...well...that was a deal-breaker.
His teeth were FUCKED UP.
The ones that were still around were various shades of grey.

I didn't hear a word this dude said.  I kept looking at him, damning his teeth!
Damn!  I could have SO totally gone for him but for the teeth...god.
If you have bad teeth, I sincerely apologize but there is NO way in hell I could ever imagine myself kissing someone with a grill like that.

A single girl in her 30s starts to lower her standards sometimes.  I actually looked at him for a moment and thought, who needs to kiss?  Maybe we could have a relationship where we just don't kiss.
My internal dialogue went something like this:

Kissing isn't that important is it?  I mean sure, kissing is great, it's passionate, it's great for kindling the fire but that only lasts, what...a year?  How many couples who are together for years still kiss like they were teenagers on their parents' couch?
Ok, so maybe I could live without the kissing.
But he would have to talk.  I can see the teeth when he talks.  How could I look at that, day after day?
How could I face my family and friends after THEY saw it?  They would take one look at this teeth and think, "And she KISSES him?".
I would then have to explain, "Oh, no, it's ok.  See, we're not kissing!  We have a STRICT no kissing policy!"
I might as well wear a t-shirt everywhere we go, "I'm not kissing him" with an arrow pointing to my left or right.

I couldn't do it.  Besides the kissing, how does someone let their teeth get like that?
Maybe it's genetic, maybe it's a disease but there are dentist who can work wonders.

Just look what they did for Hilary Duff!