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Obligatory ‘Happy New Year’ Post

31 Dec

Here in Wisconsin it’s about T-minus 6.25 hours until we usher in 2010.

Much like my weight loss efforts, I’ve not been the best at keeping up this blog. I hope that will change in the new year. Besides blogging more, my one resolution is to respect myself more. Recently I’ve been reminded of my ability to keep my mouth shut and not speak up for myself.

Last night made me realize that has to change.

So that’s my mantra for 2010. I’m done being a doormat. And while I’m not going to run roughshod over people’s feelings, I am going to speak up for myself a little more and ensure that my own needs are being met at the same — or, let’s be honest, higher — level as everyone else’s.

Since this is a public blog and I am not in the business of slander, I won’t go into any more detail than that; suffice to say that I have a lot to learn about myself in 2010.

With that said, I hope everyone has a wonderful — and safe! — New Year.

See you on the other side.

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“Pee”vlov’s Dog?

2 Jan

I went to the grocery store today because, among other things, I was out of toilet paper. I brought my purchases home, put everything away, then went to the bathroom to put the toilet paper away.

As I pulled a roll out of the package to place on the dispenser, I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to pee, when I didn’t before.

Well, my first post of 2009 was about peeing. Should be a hell of a year here at the old blog! :p

Adventures in Online Dating

8 Oct

I’m seriously starting to lose my faith in the male race.

I checked my Google e-mail account and saw that I got a response to my match.com profile from an eligible bachelor. I usually grimace as I open these things because they are normally from men:

  • Far out of my age range (as in ‘old enough to be my father or older brother’)
  • Who don’t read my profile and then are turned off by my looks, size, whatever
  • With whom I have nothing in common or don’t find physically or emotionally attractive in the slightest; or 
  • Who have no grasp of the English language or how to form a complete sentence.

Let’s just say match.com has yet to let me down.

Tonight’s message was from a 43-year old in Milwaukee (five years over the top of my age limit, but fine), who wrote (verbatim, no corrections made to grammar or tact/decorum):

Hi this is Eric can i be interested i love women your size .

 Ho. ly. Shit!

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and look at his profile. His face in both pictures makes it seem as if he were forced by someone else to pose for the photos. And I could barely get through his profile description (again, no edits made of any kind; though interjections are made by me in brackets):

I like a womens personality just as much as there looks. I am a dallas cowboy fan [blasphemous!] and the millwalkee [WTF! If he can’t spell the name of the city he lives in, how does he send things in the mail??] brewers fan. I like to watch the millwallkee bucks. I’m trying to get enogh money saved up to go to a hometown dallas cowboys game.

My head was aching by the time I finished that portion. Then I moved down to the vital stats. He doesn’t list anything under education (I’m not a snob, you don’t need a Ph.D., but did you at least graduate from high school or get your GED???), doesn’t want kids (while that would be a deal-breaker for me in a guy I was attracted to, in this case I’m probably relieved he won’t be procreating) and apparently one of his turn-ons is “brainiacs.”

D-:

I feel like (and probably am) a bitch for saying this, but…

~~~~~~~~~ I feel a rant coming on! ~~~~~~~~~

IS THAT ALL THAT’S LEFT OUT THERE FOR ME?!?!?!?!?

I don’t think I’m that picky. I’m not small, but I can fit through most regulation-sized doors with no problem. I’m pretty — not a model by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m certainly not a dog.

What the hell do I do to get the attention of a decent guy?!??! The things i wish for in a partner are (I feel) pretty simple and attainable:

Must Have’s

  • A guy with whom I have enough in common that we don’t run out of things to talk about after the first date
  • Someone who I am attracted to. He doesn’t have to be a model, in fact I would prefer he not be, but there has to by physical attraction there in order for me to want to have sex/procreate with him, which leads me to…
  • Someone who wants to be a father (sooner rather than later, I’m not getting any younger)
  • Someone with whom I can have an intelligent conversation on more than just sports (and I can hold my own on sports, I just want to talk about other things too!)
  • Someone who is tolerant of “alternative lifestyles” (meaning, if he’s homophobic, he’s not for me, because my gay best friend comes with the whole package)

Nice to Have’s

  • Someone who shares on some level my love of sci-fi classics like “Star Wars” and “The Matrix,” cheesy musicals like “Grease,” and could embrace my love of “Family Guy” and “Mystery Science Theater 3000” (I will consider myself having hit the motherlode if he likes “The Wizard of Oz” and is heterosexual to boot!), but at the same time would sit down with me and watch “Love Actually” and enjoy it, not just pretend to
  • Someone who will cook for me
  • Someone who will teach me how to drive stick shift
  • Someone who will laugh at my stupid jokes and tell me I’m pretty
  • Someone who only has eyes for me

I am not being facetious when I say I don’t feel like that’s too much to ask for.

Is there anyone out there like this?! If so, I’m asking the Universe to send him my way!!!

~~~~~~~~~ end of rant ~~~~~~~~~

So, to make a long story short, Match.com is nice enough to give you the option of e-mailing the person if you’re interested, or sending them a “not interested” e-mail if you’re not interested.

So, after much thought and deliberation, I’ve decided that I’m *not* interested in Mr. Chubby Chaser.

When you click on “not interested,” it takes you to a screen that allows you to reject the person in your own words, or through a series of canned phrases. Being in the bitter and cynical mood I’m in tonight, I figured I would let match.com do the talking for me, so I chose to tell this gentleman:

Thanks for writing to me, but unfortunately, we’re just not a good match. Good luck in your search!

(I would have preferred one less comma in that sentence, but that’s neither here nor there.)

You also have the option to give feedback on why you’re not a good match with the person, but I’m too tired to deal with it, so I’m just sending the “thanks, but no thanks” portion off.

And this other site, plentyoffish.com, isn’t much better. While it’s free, I’ve already been propositioned by three married men. Don’t even get me started on how much those people piss me off. And I made sure to tell all three exactly how I felt about them trolling for women while their wives were none the wiser (or who knows, maybe the wives were trolling somewhere else!).

Times like this make me wonder whether I should just become the crazy cat lady I know I’m destined to be, and then have a baby on my own when I pay off my credit card debt and can support a child. It might be a lot easier than this.

Lame Post

8 Oct

This song captures my thoughts perfectly today.

Take time to realize
That your warmth is crashing down on in
Take time to realize that I am on your side
Didn’t I, didn’t I tell you

But I can’t spell it out for you
No, it’s never gonna be that simple
No, I can’t spell it out for you

If you just realize what I just realized
Then we’d be perfect for each other and we’ll never find another
Just realize what I just realized
We’d never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now

Take time to realize, oh, oh, I’m on your side
Didn’t I, didn’t I tell you
Take time to realize, this all can pass us by
Didn’t I tell you

But I can’t spell it out for you
No, it’s never gonna be that simple
No, I can’t spell it out for you

If you just realize what I just realized
Then we’d be perfect for each other and we’ll never find another
Just realize what I just realized
We’d never have to wonder if we missed out on each other

But, it’s not all the same, no, it’s never the same
If you don’t feel it too, if you meet me halfway
If you would meet me halfway
It could be the same for you

Operation ‘New Me’

7 Oct

Events in my life over the last week have caused me to think about who I am as a person and where the life path I’ve chosen is taking me. I am referring to any action or reaction toward this re-evaluation as “Operation ‘New Lisa’.”

I at first thought this experiment started off in tepid fashion with a slight change of my hair color. I went from this

to this

I couldn’t get a good full-face shot of myself, so this will have to do. It’s a subtle change; it’s now more ginger or cinnamon than the bleached blonde I wanted to get rid of. The waviness will go away, my stylist decided to put in some gel and see exactly how much natural wave I have, which apparently is quite a bit.

Then it occurred to me that this experiment really began on Sept. 27, one week before I turned 35, in St. Petersburg, Fla. I went there to visit my very good friend Marnie, and little did I know that events were taking place back home in Milwaukee, Wis. that, less than one week later, would have an impact on my life.

While in Florida I did something that, surprisingly to me, many of my friends and family were shocked by.

The Catholic schoolgirl got a tattoo.

It’s on my right shoulder blade. A little larger than I had wanted, but any smaller and the artist said the inks would bleed together and it would look I simply was punched in the back.

Apparently the last time I was in St. Pete visiting Marnie, I had been drunk and talked about getting one. Marnie said she asked me the next morning if I wanted to do it and I said No. I don’t remember that, but I mentioned it again this time (I also was, once again, inebriated), but the next morning I still wanted to do it. So she got the name of the tattoo place her boss went to, and off we drove.

Turns out the artist was turning 35 four days after I was, so we bonded over being a couple of indecisive Libras. I was joking with him that there were a couple of people back home that probably wouldn’t have approved of me getting a tattoo (something about tattoos not making women more beautiful), and he said that was all the more reason to get one. 🙂

It didn’t hurt as much as I thought.

It was more like a burning sensation. And just when the pain got to the *really* uncomfortable stage, he would stop and either move onto something else or get more ink (not sure which, my friend took far fewer photos than I would have liked).

Eventually the Celtic knot, which I had chosen from the cover of a book I purchased from a used bookstore in St. Petersburg, began to take shape.

My skin is very sensitive. I'm a petite flower.

My skin is very sensitive. I'm a petite flower.

In retrospect, it’s interesting that I chose *this* particular weekend to do this. There are tons of tattoo parlors in Milwaukee, but any other chosen time would not have coincided with this small life change I have been thrust into.

I, for one, am anxious to see where this little experiment takes me.

Compliments Will Get You *Everywhere*

30 Sep

I was in line today at Office Depot when the man in front of me dropped something. I reached down and picked it up for him, handed it to him and then he thanked me, and I smiled a “you’re welcome.” A second or so later he turned around and said to me,

“You have a beautiful smile, what a pretty girl you are.”

I smiled (again) and thanked him. I can’t even remember the last time someone paid me a compliment like that, it’s been a long time. And it was strange enough that I just smiled and said “thank you.”

Usually I have some quip at the ready, like, “Ooh, that glaucoma must be acting up today!” Someone recently told me that when someone does something nice for me, I should just smile and say “thank you.” His words must be sinking in. 🙂

I paid for my purchase, left the store, and then went and bought a boatload of clothes for the fall that I desperately needed.

(Nearly) everything I tried on I thought I looked cute in. Usually I leave the clothing store crestfallen and depressed because nothing fits me right, stores think all plus-sized women are 5’8″ Amazons, or any myriad of other reasons. It’s funny how one little compliment can brighten your entire outlook.

My fortune in my Chinese food last night was nice as well.

“Good things are coming to you in due of time.” (in bed)

I’ve been thinking recently about karma, and hope that in the last couple of months my efforts to be a better person have been paying off in making me feel better about myself, and bringing good things my way. Because I sure think I deserve them. 🙂

Arms Akimbo

11 Sep

Remember that villain from the “Freakazoid” cartoon? Whose arms were, well, akimbo?

Well, that’s how I pretty much feel right now. After skipping my personal training session on Tuesday because of extreme fatigue, I made sure to pack my gym bag and make my Thursday session. I got there at 5:30 and did 30 minutes walking on the treadmill. According to the machine I burned 255 calories.

Go me.

Then my trainer came to collect me and take me in the basement, where she subjected me to all kinds of tricep, chest, shoulder and bicep torture. Then we went upstairs and she attacked my abs.

I feel amazing, the best I’ve felt all week, but I can feel the muscles in my arms *throbbing*, even as I type this entry.

That’s the sign of a good workout.

I agreed to meet with her on Sunday at 8:30 a.m. (even though I’m having a party the night before). I think I’m a glutton for punishment.

She did scold me for not eating though. I think I’ve probably lost between 6-8 pounds this week because I’ve just been too tired to eat, or not hungry. The last two nights I had a lemonade fruit and juice bar for dinner. When I said I wanted to work on my eating, I didn’t have quite this extreme in mind. So, I’m sure some of it will come back once I start eating regularly again (especially all the eating and drinking I probably will do on Saturday). So maybe the Sunday morning workout will do me good.

* * *

Now it’s off to clean my apartment for my housewarming party on Saturday.

I hate cleaning, but it has to be done.

I hope I can keep Ginger out of the kitchen long enough to mop the floor.