It ain't easy standing up when you don't have a spine!

So, I am a jellyfish.

Sometimes I am a little pitbull, but not when it comes to dating, or anything else that might benefit me.

I sent Saccharine a note asking what he wants and whatnot, and am now feeling badly that I hurt his feelings. I think I am going to call tonight and get this squared away. I am such a dweeb. I am a dating dweeb! Good thing I am watching Oprah's show on how to become a sexpot right now.

Anyway...Get a load of this guy. First he sent me this message...

how are oyu? Just moved here and I am looking for a friend lets talk and see what happens

There was no picture, so I sent a "Thanks do you have a pic" kind of message, to which I get this...

dont have one yet. I played college football and to be homnest I am not your type physcially right now. I need to lsoe 30 lbs and working hard after a skiing accindet. I am just looking for quality friends to do things with. I hoep my honesty doesnt scare oyu away. Where did you attend college?

Before I even have a chance to respond--because I am not exactly sure what needs to be said here, I get another message from this guy.

give me a chance oyu wont be disappointed I can promise oyu that. I have a lot to offer

I will give him this--at least he knows "a lot" is two words.

Now seriously, I can't stand being rude. How the heck to I respond to this guy? Most guys tell me they are so self-conscious about writing to a teacher, they check, double check and check one more time to make sure that everything is grammatically correct and spelled correctly--little do they know I am a horrendous speller, but whatever. This guys isn't so self-conscious, I see.

Update...

Called B3 and left a voicemail. The ball in now firmly planted in his court, and while I hope, I hope, I hope that he calls and thinks I am wonderful, there is really nothing left for me to do about it.

I left a message for Saccharine saying that I don't hate him, but I am indifferent.
He left another message for me this morning saying he will just leave me alone then.

So, not being one who can leave things alone (except for calling Brian--leaving that alone now...at this moment!)I sent another message basically asking what exactly he is looking for, and that if he has come to realize how great I am, fine, but if he is settling for me because no one else has worked out, so long.

We shall see.

"Do you hate me?"

This was the message I had from a former suitor from the wonderful world of online dating.

Backstory: Met this guy I was lukewarm on initially. He was persistent, and I agreed to meet him for lunch. I have a second date rule, so there was a second date. In between, he was sending me these funny, sweet e-mails, and I came to decide, I actually liked this guy. We started dating regularly, and he continued being sweet and funny. I even nicknamed him "Sweetness" (not to his face). My car broke down on my way to school one cold December morning, and he came by to check on me and sit with me until my dad came to pick me up and get me to school. He loves kids, and is a major part of his niece's and nephew's lives, and even moved back to here to be a big part of their upbringing. (This is HUGE to me).
We had a nice stay-at-home date, fooled around a bit and he then never called again. I tried to call him, but he never answered or called back. I was shocked, a little upset, but whatever. I moved on. (I was also upset because I basically let other prospects slide because I wanted to see where this went).

Now it is 5 months later, and I get "Do you hate me?" from the site where we met. The odd thing is, in my continuing battle to get my e-mail to work properly, I read a ton of e-mails he had sent me and was just thinking about him and was actually missing him just a tad. Not enough to contact him, but enough to wonder what went wrong and what could have been.

My first instinct was to send back a snippy message, simply saying I would have to think about him to hate him. But another part of me wants to see what he has to say for himself and maybe see where it takes me. Obviously I would take anything, should I actually respond, and respond nicely, very, very slowly. If that is even what he is getting at. Maybe he just wants to know if I hate him.

So, my cyber friends, what would you do? (Any football fans out there old enough to remember the "You make the call" segments back in the 70s? Sort of reminded myself of that right then.)

And in other online dating news...

I had that lunch date last Tuesday. He was nice, kind of attractive, and we talked non-stop for the duration of the date--one and a half to two hours. The problem is, that while we had some interesting, intellectual conversation, I am not sure I ever really laughed. Big deal to me! And the entire time, he was either talking about having just finished law school and/or prepping for the bar (Okay, I get it! You're a lawyer!) or complaining about how bad his allergies have been since returning here. He sent an e-mail today telling me he hasn't called because he was down with the chicken pox. I know I am going to burn in hell, but for some strange reason that really tickled my funny bone. I can't explain it. I hope he is feeling better. He seems interested in me. Again, the second date rule. I might end up like him as I did Saccharine (formerly Sweetness).

Oh, and while I haven't called B to the power of 3 yet, I probably will sometime this evening...unless some here or one of the people I e-mailed tells me what a horrible idea that is. You have until 8:30 CST! :)

Soooo...Can I call?

I was ready to hang up on Brian. Really. I was a little disheartened, but ready to move on and forget about him. (But always hanging onto the hope my friend gave me when another friend of hers didn't hear from an online suitor for over 3 weeks--then they re-hooked up and he was totally smitten and regretted ever acting like a typical guy.)

But I digress. (And if you don't know me--I really do talk like this in real life--I think ADD is contagious and I caught it from my students!)

I had a notice on my webmail--because my Earthlink account hasn't worked right for well over a week--that someone on the same personals site sent me an e-mail. I checked it out--not my type but I've decided to date beyond my type--especially when they are buff and manly. While there, I decided to check out Brian's profile. Guess what…he hasn’t been active online since last week! That would have been the same time he sent me that last e-mail telling me he is out of town on the west coast.

So, does that mean I can call him? Make the move so he knows I am still interested? Cuz I am! I really, really am! Or, is that the move of desperation?

Anyone?

Hi-Ho Smokey...Away!

So, for those who don't know me, I volunteer with two charities. One is called Equine Assisted Therapy, or EAT...which given my battle of the bulge, I hate telling people I am going to EAT, but what can I do?

EAT puts kids with various disabilities, and some adults, too, on horseback. It improves their core muscle strength, balance, builds up their feeling of power to control this big animal, and for some, it is the only thing that makes them mobile, and for those in a wheelchair, a different perspective rather than always sitting the same level in a wheelchair.

So, the group is doing so well, they started a second stable in a wealthy area. The houses in this area are over $1 million--which in St. Louis means HUGE! We had a lot of red tape to go through and rich people to schmooze in order to get it all set up and ready to go. They were a little worried about having horses in the middle of their beautiful park, but, unfortunately for them, it was grandfathered in to be a stable AND to be for a nonprofit organization. We won the battle but have worked very, very hard to get everything beyond code and up to gorgeous to make nice with the neighbors who could also be EXTREMELY helpful in donating money and products to us.

This morning was the first day the Town and Country stable was opened. I normally work at the other stable, but I volunteered to help out at the new one on Saturdays during the summer. While driving there, I see the woman who runs the program walking with one of the horses from quite a long distance away from the stable. I meet her at the stable, and she is red-in-the face, sweaty and out of breath. Smokey, who I have worked with at the other stable, had managed to open the "human" door, squeezed through, got out of the stables and ran down the street. The richy-rich street. He ran for miles...with no saddle or halter. He had bicyclists, 3 police cars and several motorists following him. The officers had their lights on. They couldn't catch Smokey. He went through subdivisions, across lawns and on sidewalks. And it rained last night, so there were many divots and hoof prints left in these previously pristine yards.

Finally, Smokey ran all the way to a major highway, and I guess he didn't know how to merge, because this is where he was apprehended by the police, and a kind motorist who saw the woman who runs the program running down the street after the horse drove her to the end of the road, so to speak, and someone else had a length of rope to tie around him to lead him back to the stable.

You would have thought that this outing tired Smokey and he would have been lazy for his rider who was about 15 minutes away from arriving for his session. Quite the opposite happened, though. Smokey, a 16 year old gelding, was wired and I had a tough time keeping him from trotting off with his ride. I kept putting my body in front of this huge horse to slow him down--and he only ran me over twice--once knocking me to the ground. The rider never knew differently, though, because while Smokey was feeling his oats, so to speak, he is still a gentle soul to those kids on his back and seems to know they are not seasoned riders.

This entire story may or may not be humorous to you. If you personally knew Smokey, it would be even funnier. Smokey is the laziest horse I have ever met. At the other stable, he has been known to fall asleep while walking and trip over his own feet. He is fairly tubby, and we have difficulty getting the girth around him, but he is also so lazy, he will go without his food if it is too far away from him.

But I guess this just goes to show, even older, lazy horses have their wild oats to sow. Or he prefers the stables in the "country" and was trying to get back there. Whichever.

By the way...

If anyone reads this, and can tell me how to post a picture in my profile, I'd be very grateful. I have tried repeatedly and have had no luck...I'm a moron.
Thanks!
Miss Bethie

Time for a little R&R, then a need for even more.

Today Mom and I decided to have a little R&R and have some manis and pedis--we both had gift certificates.
It was wonderful and relaxing, except for the little brat whose mother thought her daughter's loud, rambunctious behavior was cute and precious in a spa. That's a whole 'nother bag of worms, though.
While relaxing and getting my hand massage and paraffin treatment, in total bliss, I hear my mom talking to her manicurist. The manicurist asked if I had any children...because Mom had been expounding on the perfection of her middle son's (aka "the golden child") daughter. (And to be fair, his daughter is nearly perfection.)
"No, Bethie is still looking for Mr. Right. Aren't you dear? She just isn't having any luck."
By that point, I needed to start the entire relaxation process over!
On the brightside, my manicurist is newly pregnant at the age of 38. Maybe there is hope for me yet to have the family I hope to have someday!

Running into the ex...

I was, believe it or not, engaged at one time in my life. Actually, 10 years ago...Dang I am getting old.

Anyway, we will call the ex "Sven" because I was often asked if I was dating an albino, and he was big and of Germanic and Scandinavian descent,so Sven seems fitting.

Sven was a great guy. Perfect, really...Even though he was 6'4" and I am 4'11" and we looked like circus freaks standing next to one another.

But, Sven was sweet, and patient and thoughtful. Unfortunately, I wasn't in love with Sven, romantically. Loved him as a friend, but since that didn't change after 4 and a half years together, I gave up thinking it would happen.

Ultimately, Sven's parents hated me--Dad was a pastor and since I am of a different ideology, I should probably burn in hell. Well, I probably will, to hear him preach it on Thanksgiving while I am sitting in the pews--another story, and I obviously still have issues.

Anyway, I always wanted Sven to be happy, because he deserved it. Truly. He couldn't help having idiots for parents.

Last summer, I was feeling sassy, looking cute, meeting an online suitor for lunch. We had sent a ton of e-mails back and forth, and seemed to have some sort of chemistry. We talked a few times briefly, and I was confident we were going to get along just dandy. I get a phone call while waiting to meet him--one of his kids fell and cut his lip, he is running a little late, but is on his way. No problem. In fact, his being such a doting father is really attractive to me!

So, I am waiting, and waiting, and waiting (he lives across the river in Illinois) and all of a sudden I hear, "Bethie? Miss Bethie? Is that you?" I look up and see Sven and a group of co-workers. We chat and catch up. He is married and has a daughter (married to a girl his father was trying to match him up with while we were still engaged, by the way), and is doing great. Except for his goofy chin hair, he looks great. He tells me I look great. We give each other a big hug, and I feel a sense of euphoria and like there is some closure here. Good old Sven--yes, we weren't compatible, I now know for certain--I had wondered before--but dang, I am happy he is happy. Really.

My date shows up, and, well, he isn't what I had pictured, and I am wondering how I never picked up on the fact that he sounds like a hybrid of H. Ross Perot and someone from Hee Haw. Interesting. I can deal with sounding like a bumpkin, but not a LOUD bumpkin.

I don't even need to tell you. You know exactly where the waitress sat us. Oh yeah. Which was fine...Until bumpkin says loudly, "So, how long yoo bin doin' this innernet thang?" I wanted my less-than-five-feet of me to become less-than-two-feet-of-me right then and there.

I am not sure why it disturbed to have Sven hear I date online, but it did. I don't want him to pity me, or laugh at me, although I pity me and laugh at me all the time. I was such a cool hip chick when we were together, and now I am a chilled, large-hipped chick. Anyway...

Sven is a good guy, and Bumpkin, I am sure is, too, but that was our one and only date. Not because he sounded like a bumpkin. I'm not that shallow.

I couldn't stand the way he ate and his teeth looked like they were stained from chewing tobacco. (If you don't know me outside of the blog, you don't understand just how important dental hygiene is to me. It is a MUST!)

Its a whole new day, and it is looking a lot brighter!

Guess who sent me an e-mail through the personals.
B to the power of 3.
He has been traveling the west coast, and after meetings and taking clients out to dinner, it has been too late to call, but he had a great time riding on the bike with me and has been thinking of me.
He's soooooo dreamy!
Zippity-doo-da!

I was going to take a nappy-poo after getting up early and walking my 3 miles...but now I am just going to lay back and think semi-dirty thoughts about B-2-3 and me.

D'oh! And I have a lunch date tomorrow--B-2-3 may be my future husband, but he is until he declares we are steady, I have to keep my options open! :)

Help me Obi-Wan...Or anyone out there reading this

I want to call B to the power of 3. I know I can't. I know it will just make me look desperate, and pathetic, and while that could well be the case, I don't want him to think that!

I want ice cream. Or cheesecake. Again, I know there is now way I should do that.

{sigh}

Why is it that when gets me down, I want to eat? It reminds me of that episode of Cheers when Woody and his girlfriend start getting fat, and it turns out it is sexual frustration because they are abstaining from sex.

My mom--love her, want to beat her senseless. Is that normal? I think it is--just so long as I don't forget that I am a pacifist, I think it is fine to just think that. Is it?

And rude people--can you believe that someone at my evening job said she had been meaning to tell me I look like I had lost some weight, and this other lady said not to believe everything I hear?

Okay--earlier today I had a humorous observation that I couldn't wait to blog. Hell if I know what it was about. I think I need a nap.

Can you even believe this is NOT PMS? Imagine if it were!

I'm the sexy lady on my street...

You are probably asking yourself how someone with such strained self-esteem can say this about herself, but let me tell ya how...

I called the insurance company today to drop the Sebring and add the Santa Fe. Believe it or not, that is how this story begins. I called my agent and left a message.

I had gotten out of the shower and, in an effort to feel sexy despite B to the power of 3 NOT calling me this weekend, put on a sexy bright pink semi-sheer bra and matching panties. grrrr....

When my agent's assistant called me back, and needed the VIN number, I told him to hold on just a second, I had to get it out of the glove compartment. I slipped on my white terrycloth robe, and my satin and sequined flip-flops, and jaunted out to the Santa Fe. While fumbling with the phone, and the glove box and the paperwork I needed, my robe slipped off of my shoulder and showed off a hot-pink clad breasticle.

The HOT college-aged neighbor was getting out of his car, and for the first time ever, gave me a coy smile and wave, which I returned.

I am, sadly enough, the youngest chick on the street past the age of jailbait, or who doesn't have 2 bratty kids. So, I think this now makes me the sexy lady on the street.

Or, as I always feared, I am now the crazy cat lady running around outside in her robe, accidentally flashing people, and hottie college boy was laughing at me.

Whatever.

Red tape and sticky situations...

So, when I went to trade in the Sebring, I couldn't find my title. I would have expected it to be in the envelope where I kept all of my paperwork for the car--but neigh. I got to hear my mom say she knew this would happen. I really need to be more careful with my paperwork. Charming.

I went to the DMV close to where I live, got there before they opened, and there was already a line of about 10 people. Wait my turn, tell them I need a copy of my title, and am told that their notary public is gone for two weeks--come back then. But I can't wait two weeks!

After doing a few other things that couldn't wait, I go to a DMV that is fairly close to me. The girl there is very nice, and as she looks up my title to get the needed info, she tells me that the bank that my loan was through never released the lien. Nice. She kindly tells me that this happens from time to time, and it doesn't mean the loan isn't paid in full, but that someone just forgot to release the lien. Go to the bank and get a lien release. We'll do!

I call the bank and ask them if there is any chance they didn't send the title, and they tell me to go to any branch and get this taken care of. (The branch the loan was through is about a half hour away).

I go to the nearest branch, wait in line, get to a teller and am told to talk to an account manager--who is hiding in the back, which is why I didn't go to him to begin with! He calls the branch, and tells me that they show there is no lien.

I know there is no lien, I know the loan is paid off, UNFORTUNATELY, the state doesn't know this. That, at this moment, is all I am really concerned about. No problem, they will give me a release of lien, and won't even charge me to have it notarized! Lucky day! I ask them to call the same branch and make sure that the title isn't still there. He calls, and they tell us that their records show it was mailed the day the lien was released. BUT THE LIEN WASN'T REALLY RELEASED!!! Please, physically go back there and check it for me.

No need to, ma'am, it shows it here on our computer--it was mailed to you almost 3 years ago!

I can see there is no getting through to them that:
a.) I have no confidence in them.
b.) They messed up the lien, there is a really good chance they messed up the title.

I just take the lien release, mumble a lot, and go back to the DMV, which had no line the first time I was there, but now has a very long, slow moving line.

I finally get up there, get my paperwork filed, and pay my $11.00. It is going to take 12 weeks.

Wha? My paperwork for the new car isn't going to be released until they have the title for the Sebring! What the heck am I going to do???

Luckily, I have an awesome salesman who got my paperwork released for me. WHEW!

I still think that bank never sent the title to me!

The Weekend in Review...

So, Friday, while in line getting some paperwork straightened out to get my title on the Sebring so that I can get my paperwork for the Santa Fe (and yet another story for later), just as I get to the front of the line and the bank teller asks how he can help me, my cellphone rings. I let it go to voicemail, and get a bit more runaround. Check the voicemail, and it is the idiot who backed into me, saying he just wants to pay me, and he will call back between 7:00 and 8:00, so I have time to have dinner and relax.

I was going to meet some friends for drinks, but decided to skip to get this taken care of. Guess who didn't call.

I called him at the number my cellphone had listed when he called, and left a messaging telling him I had cancelled my plans and that he better call soon or else it was just going to his insurance.

He called a few hours later, apologizing...Whatever...And asked what the amount was. I told him, and he said, "For a grill?"

Yes.

That can't be right.

I assure you, it is.

We better just send it to my insurance, I can't afford that out of pocket.

@#*$&!!!

I thanked him for wasting 2 months time. He insisted he did no such thing. He blamed his insurance, and I reminded him that ultimately, since he decided to back up at a red light without looking behind him, it was, regardless of communication breakdowns with him or his insurance, his fault.

Saturday morning, I called BBB. Left a message. It is now 7:30 Sunday night, and no message. I am a little down about that. {Sigh}. Par for the course. So, I had, in having a nice message from him Thursday night, left Saturday open for him. When that didn't happen, I went to my grandma and grandpa's to show off the new vehicle. Gramps is a car man, and they have a new kitten I hadn't met yet.

Grandma's slipping mental and physical state, as well as the "old person" smell that now emanates throughout their house did not lighten my mood.

Today, my niece got her first tooth, so, Mom, Pop and myself went out to see for ourselves (this is how lame we are!) That could have been fun, if, for the 2 and a half hours out there, I had been able to interact with the baby for more than 15-20 minutes. Mom is a baby hog, and that is 3+ hours -- with the commute -- I will never have back in my life.

Really, normally I am not this negative. I apologize. Weekends like this do nothing for my already tenuous self-esteem, however.

More later--after I fix a few things on the computer and finish some VERY late school work.

Ta-ta!

A different kind of speed dating...

Flash to the past...
Here is an interesting online dating story.
I did the e-Harmony thing for awhile. Don't highly recommend it personally, but I do know a few people who have had some mixed success with it.

Here is the most memorable date from my days at eHarmony.

Some guy who lived close to me was going to college to become a teacher. Must be fate.

So, I am looking at this guy's pics... I can't tell if it is a bad toupe or a bad hair transplant. Interesting. Despite my trepidation I proceed through the many hoops eHarmony puts in your path to true and ever-lasting love or humiliating dates.

We talked on the phone and he seemed fine. So, we planned a date. Something simple and casual. Meet at Border's book and from there go to a nearby park that is actually an outdoor art museum.

So I pull up to Border's and a man whiter than me is outside wearing long white basketball shorts and a matching tank top, that thankfully had a t-shirt underneath it. And it is bad plugs. Like baby-doll hair sprouting from his scalp, in perfect geometric formation.

Sadly, that isn't the creepy part.

We sit at the Border's Cafe for a few minutes, and the entire time he is looking around with shifty eyes and is acting real jittery. He never makes eye contact while we are talking, and can hardly sit still in his chair. After about 15-20 minutes of this, he says that before he goes to the park, he has to make a phone call, and he will go out to his car to do it.

I am sure he is either going to call his drug dealer or do more of whatever his is already on. So, when I see the albino-gangsta-wannabe walking back from his car, I picked up my cellphone and feigned alarm.

Coincidentally enough, just as he went out to his car, my nephew called to tell me his mom had to take his sister to the hospital and could I please get there right away because he was worried and didn't want to be alone. ;)

So it was a 20 minute date. About 2 weeks later he called me. At 2:30am. Booty call. EHarmony was told about their screening not being as great as they advertise it to be.

And NOOOOO I did NOT respond to the booty-call! Sheesh!

Fighting with my conscience (yup, I DO have one!)

I got the estimate for the damage done to my car when an idiot backed into me. It is over $700. I am getting rid of the car today. He wants to pay out of his pocket. Do I give it to him? Normally, I would say, "Dude, this is your lucky day!" and let it go. You may ask why a nice girl like me is even SERIOUSLY considering this...

So, the Saturday before Easter, I was on my way to a date I was looking forward to--our first meeting--but this is not about online dating (for a change of pace).

On my way to the date, I was in the right hand turn lane, patiently waiting for the 2 cars in front of me to turn. The light was red. The guy in the ginormous pickup in front of me is a little impatient, and starts honking for the guy in front of him to turn on red. Guy in front of him doesn't want to. Guy in ginormous truck decides to go around him. I see his reverse lights go on. I start honking frantically. He puts his trailer hitch right into the grill of my car.

"Didn't you hear me honking at you???"

"Ummm...Not until I hit you."

Nice.

His insurance car is expired, and he has Florida plates. We exchange info. He is a traveling nurse here for work. He was blowing it off like it was no big deal, but I showed him that my grill was definitely broken, along with the crest in the center.

I called his insurance company immediately. They called him--but he isn't home--because he is here. But they leave numerous messages. And I diligently kept checking. Two months later, he FINALLY returns their call. They call me and tell me. He has asked them to ask me if he could pay out of pocket. I told then that was fine, BUT I better have a reply from him in 24 hours, and a check within 36 hours, or I am claiming it.

Had he returned the call to his insurance right away, I wouldn't be calling on all of my Jiminy Crickets out there to play the part of my conscience. I'd chuckle about it as I told him. The fact he left me hanging just irks me to no end. Had he gotten in touch with me in a timely manner, the work would have been done before the transmission went out, anyway! Not that that is a valid argument, but still...

So, what should I do? (That money could sure help pay for my new car taxes!)

Baby you can drive my car...

If you are willing to give me $1500 as a trade-in for it, despite its bad transmission, a top that looks like my cats have used it for claw sharpening purposes, a windshield with a crack all the way across (but below the line of vision!) and a broken front grill. SUCKERS!

Okay, well, this is the automotive industry, so I know there is a good reason for all of these "favors" they are doing for me, but still...

Hopefully by this time tomorrow, I'll be the proud owner of an LX edition Santa Fe.

Some of you may be saying to yourself, "I thought you were getting a Tucson." Well, so did I, but I have two words for you -- power seats.

Yes, power seats made all the difference in the world. Power seats are what little girls who are only 4'11" need in order to sit comfortably in their vehicles. Power seats are what the Tucson--any model--don't have, and what the Santa Fe--LX edition only--have. Not only do they have power seats--they have heated leather power seats! I am living the dream, for about the same amount per month as the Tucson.
ROCK ON!

But now for the important info...

B to the power of 3. Will he enjoy those leather seats? Will we heat them up in our own way? Well, as of 9:50 tonight, no word, no reply to the e-mail, no more bright outlook.

Part of me is (really) bummed because he had so many great qualities and said we'd get together again.

Part of me is relieved, however, that it happened now. I already liked him a lot, and another date or 2 would have made the no contact 3 days after a date unbearable.

So, I have some online replies to get to, and I won't be thinking, "Gee, he isn't as cute as B" or "Well, B has much broader, sexier shoulders." Because while the three B's stood for Brainy, Brawny Brian, I think he just proved he ain't as brainy as I once thought! (But I still hope he calls tomorrow! :) )

Take my car...Please!

So, my dad, a man I love and admire, told me my best bet is to get my transmission fixed so that I have a decent trade-in when I purchase my new car. So, I will be spending $1400, then having to get body work done because of the idiot who backed into me, and may, if I am lucky, get $2000 as a trade-in. Really folks, it hardly seems worth it, but what do I know? That is why I ask my daddy these things.

So, the place I am taking it to, which is actually giving me quite a deal, said to let them know in advance when it will be in, because they want a place in the garage to lock it up, because Sebrings are one of the most stolen cars around.

So, I got to thinking...
Why not park my car by a service garage, and post a huge sign on the windshield...something like...

"Miss Bethie,
We hid the key in the front driver's side wheel well. Thanks for your business."

Then I would get an insurance check and would come out ahead of the game!

Then, my wise, wise father told me that even if a car thief took it, when it didn't get out of first, they would probably ditch it a block away where it would easily be found and returned to me, and then I would be even further behind on my purchasing a new vehicle, because I would still need to get it fixed.

DANG! That man is never wrong!

Reflections and Neurosis

Today ended (basically) the 2004-2005 school year. (I say basically because I have files to get together and transport within the next day or 2).

Here are some of the things I witness...
Twins on the team, whom are nearly impossible to tell apart, came in today--on with a mohawk, the other with a sort of reverse mohawk--only the center was shaved down. They looked ridiculous, which is what they were going for, obviously.

The students this year were more appreciative of their teachers this year. Many came up to me and told me what a difference I made in their lives. I was told I wasn't just a teacher, but a friend who they could confide in, joke with and ask for help. I was very touched.

Our girl softball players from yesterday being treated like queens by everyone--except the boys they beat. (They are wise enough to find it funny).

And that while I love reliving these things, they are boring in a blog...So I am moving on...

My neurosis strike!!!

I e-mailed B-to-the-power-of-3 on the personals site where we met, and wrote this...

B,
Thanks again for the motorcycle ride through wine country. I really had a GREAT time!
I'm up for a ride again anytime you are willing. :)
I already liked the pic of you and Sherwood, but like even more after seeing you two rolling around on the floor playing.
Hope you didn't get that stern talking to in Chicago.
Take care,
Beth

Now, let me say, he travels with his job and was leaving yesterday, and was hoping to get back either tonight or tomorrow. Sometimes he calls during his travels, but not always.

I have seriously been so antsy-antsy-antsy wanting to call him. But I can't. I shouldn't have even sent the e-mail, but I just wanted him to know that I think he is HOT, I mean, that I like him. I can barely stand myself. And now that school is out, it is the worst! I have so much more down time and can sit here and think, think, think about what he thinks about me, and if he is thinking about me, and if he wants to go out with me again, and if we can roll around on his LoveSac together (you know--those gigantic and soft beanbag chairs--get your mind out of the gutter!)

I am having a neurotic episode here, guys! Any thoughts, words of wisdom, etc.
I can't call, can I? Not even tomorrow, really. DANG! I wanna call!

The Weaker Sex?

Yesterday, as part of the promotion festivities, we had two softball games going before the kids separated into their interest. We have two 8th grade teams, so each 8th grade team had a girl's team and a boy's team playing.

My team's girls team rocked. They shut out the other team to the tune of 20 to nuthin'. I'm so proud.

The boys were another story--but mainly because the adult over there was cheating in about a dozen different ways, including having more players than specified and making bad calls.

We decided to have our girls play their boys with an official from each 8th grade team. After the cheat, AKA Stick Man was very vocal about how the girls were going to get stomped by his boys and girls can't play, well, you know where this is going.

It was totally AWESOME! Stick Man is a chauvinist pig, and every year there are complaints because he won't cover women in history (his subject area) and makes rude comments. (I know--I'm not sure why he is still here, either, although he is leaving this year, THANK GOD!)

The girls beat the boys by several runs. They were better fielders, and what really made the difference, they worked as a team. No one was showing off. No outfielders ran into each other trying to make a spectacular catch. They worked together--even though most don't play together normally.

I AM SO PROUD OF THEM!!!

A Candy Colored Clown...

We'll call Miss Bethie. Yesterday was the 8th grade graduation ceremony, errr...excuse me, promotion ceremony, as the administrators prefer to call it, followed by a day of fun and games for the kiddos.

The two 8th grade teams planned everything, and had it approved by the administrators. Unfortunately, there was a glitch. The room we were going to use to show Napolean Dynamite (YES!) was full of computer parts and not usable. No big schmoe. I am flexible. I was to chaperone that group, while some people chaperoned the dance, the wiffleball game, the basketball court and various other outside activities. (We planned this way to keep me out of the sun, and our tanners in the sun).

Have I mentioned how fair I am? No, not fair as in the way I discipline the kiddos and grade assignments--well, yes, that too, but I am white. (Although, I think anyone who has seem me dance will also agree that I have rhythm, thank you very much!) They put me on basketball duty--all 4'11" of me--and set me out in the sun.

I now have a fucia nose with a matching forehead and cheeks. Bad enough, HOWEVER, because of the way the court is situated, it isn't an even burn, I mean, tan. Top it with my red frizzed hair, which normally just makes me look like a Hobbit, and you have one fine looking specimen or womanhood, lemme tell ya!

Maybe it is a good thing the convertible conked out on me. The sun, despite my best efforts, really isn't my friend!

Many Musings

Tomorrow is my last day of the school year. Last year's kids -- I was ready to kick out the door, but this year's, despite their egocentric tendencies and ability to waste a full 50 minutes without every having any synapses fire, I really, truly like.
I will miss my walking/talking Muppet who was a good 4 inches shorter than me at the beginning of the year, and is now an inch taller.
I will miss my little ADHD guy who changes the topic of his sentences 3 times as he talks, but forgets mid-sentence what he was asking me.
I will miss my girl who is tardy at least 3 days a week, who likes to play the part of the tough cookie but is one of the sweetest people I know.
I will miss the jocks, the geeks and everyone in between.
I will miss my co-workers, even though I will see them in 3 months.

But today there was a non-student I was thinking about. If anyone is reading this, whom I haven't already asked, please say a little prayer for Chelsea. She is such a cool kid. She had cancer, but went into remission. She was the backbone that soothed her mother and is a champ. Unfortunately, she has had a relapse and a lot of complications. She was touch-and-go a couple of weeks ago, but is beginning to improve. She will be having some surgery soon as a result of the complications. Please, please, please keep Chelsea, one of the coolest girls I know, in your thoughts and prayers. Thanks, all!

Now for something a little more fun...

My body conspired against me when I have a date with a sexy boy that has 2 medical degrees and a Harley. Fine. I dealt with it, and am hoping all turned out fine (pleaseohpleaseohplease...I think I finally found a keeper!).
But what a week...My car was also trying to ruin me. Neigh! It is winning in ruining me!!!
I knew it was on borrowed time. It is a 97 with 115,000+ miles on it. It is a convertible with a cracked windshield, a frayed top and a broken grill which is another story for another day. I was hoping to get $2,000 for a trade in (I was planning on getting the grill fixed because the idiot who broke was going to pay to get it fixed.) More than fair. I work at a car dealer in the evenings, and this seemed reasonable. That and another $2,000 down payment, I'd be good to go. Yep. Great. I can do this in just a few weeks. When school is out and I can do lots and lots of comparison shopping.

Great plan, and a perk of not having to be anywhere in particular before 2pm.
Until...
My transmission went out. With only 3 days of school left. So, I need to pay out $1,500 to get it fixed--minimum, and then, if I am lucky, get a $2,000 trade-in. I also don't have my summer checks yet. Those will show up in my account June 1. So, the money I need isn't accessible yet, either.
Should I fix the transmission, or give it to the kidney foundation, or what? Anyone? Anyone??
I am so screwed! Seriously! I have had to borrow my mom's Explorer, and she has been house bound.
I have a test drive scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. I hope to look around for the best deal on Thursday. Hopefully buy it then, pick it up Friday at the latest.
I hate giving up my convertible. I love my convertible...Especially with the warmer weather approaching.
I am getting a moonroof, which will help take away the sting, but it still won't be the same.
Oh, and the dealer where I work, where we sell Honda, Acura and Lexus, will want to shoot me when I drive up next week in a Hyundai. (Gotta love that warranty, though!)

Hopefully B to the power of 3 and I can go cruising in my new Tucson. Hey--it is no Harley, but it DOES have a backseat! (nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say no more!)

If anything else decides to make me miserable, at least school will be out, so if I need to go into a cocktail-induced stupor to deal with the pain, I don't have to worry about hanging out with a bunch of kids while my insides and head have another coup d' tat against me the following morning.

I bet my friends who thought they were going to live vicariously through me on this blog are HIGHLY disappointed right now! I'll do better tomorrow. You'll have some stories about the last day...and those are all always fun! And Patty, I'll happily hang out with the 13 year old...if we can hang out, too!

Too bald, or not too bald...That is the question...

This past week I had 2 different dates with men who were bald. What a difference an attitude makes!

Tuesday night I met up with Ed. I thought he was funny in his e-mails and on the phone, and his pics were sort of cute. (BTW--I OBVIOUSLY do the online dating thing...I wouldn't have had 3 dates in a single week on my own!) When I met Ed, whom I knew to be bald from his pics, I was struck by what gorgeous blue eyes he had, and great features. He was funny, confident and a little on the sexy side. The only time he mentioned his follicle-challenge was when he showed me a picture of his beautiful daughter who had the same striking blue eyes and tons of curly blonde hair. I mentioned that she had his eyes, and he said that, believe it or not, she has his hair, too, and chuckled that hopefully she will keep hers.

Saturday I had a date with another bald man, but I didn't know this until we met. I had a strange feeling, because while discussing our age, we both said that we don't feel or act out age. I said I was lucky, too, because I don't think I look my age--in fact, I sometimes still get carded (although a lot less than I used to!). He said to me, "Well, I didn't say I don't look my age, I just don't feel it or act it.
A flag went up, but I assumed he was just being silly--because he too, was funny. In his pics, he looked a little bit like Steve Gutenberg, but with the hairline Bruce Willis had in the days of Moonlighting--you know, thinning but definitely still had hair.

When I walked into the bar, I saw a man that looked vaguely familiar--but older, with a goatee, (a graying goatee), and almost completely bald. No matter--I am not a superficial girl (sometimes) and this guy and I had a lot in common. In fact, we hung out in this pub in a quiet corner talking for over 5 hours. We never ran out of things to talk about. Unfortunately, a few times the topic turned to hair. He would get a transplant if money were no object. He feels unattractive and self-conscious about the hair. The more he talked about it, the less attractive I found him.
I mean, if he calls, I would go out with him again--because I have a second date rule--if he was nice and I wasn't uncomfortable, I will give it a second, maybe even third try. Sometimes it takes that long for me to feel an attraction. If he doesn't call, well, no biggie, because I have Harley Boy, whom I refer to as "B to the power of Three" or "B cubed" for reasons I would rather not give away just yet.

Ed, I would like to hear from again, although he had his daughter over the weekend and will be in Vegas this week for business and pleasure, so it may be awhile before I do.
Again, if he doesn't call, it isn't the end of the world. In fact, I would say it is his loss...after all, I have a quick wit, and great sense of humor and lovely red hair!

Motorcycle mama has returned!

I called him, left a message, and felt sure I was being blown off--because as I said before, I am neurotic. But, he was outside doing yard work and was planning on still going, but was just waiting to see if it was going to warm up. Yeah!

It was only our second date, so I was really happy when he invited me to his place, then proceeded to show me around, introduce me to a very sweet, though very spoiled dog he refers to as his son, and tell me about various pictures he had displayed (no chicks! Whew) and pointed out family members.

It was a very sweet, basically uneventful date--and I say that in a good way. Even when we stopped at a Harley bar, because he wanted to look at the bikes, it was uneventful, which was, in a weird way, disappointing. But let's dive in to my twisted mind, shall we?

First off, my own body is conspiring against me. I am sure of this. I had full-blown PMS all last week. I even has a crying fit in the hallway in front of my class Friday when the transmission on my car went out (although, knowing how much a new transmission costs, and that I was going to get rid of the car once summer was here, that may be justified!). It was baaaad. Backache, headache, and even heartache that I made up in my mind. I suffered through this for a complete week. Then Aunt Flo decides to make her visit the day I am riding a motorcycle with a hunky man. As I am sitting on the back of the bike, with my legs wide apart and sort of around him, and vibrating down a windy highway, I was scared to death of what could be happening. "Please oh please oh please don't leak and stain the seat of the bike!!! But it is black. Would he notice? Would he notice?! Ummm...yeah...When he cleans the bike with the tender-loving care he obviously has for it, you idiot!" I am happy to report--no leakage--but the bottom of my bright orange tennis shoes DID melt all over the pipe. OOPS! He was very sweet about it and offered to buy me new shoes if they were bad--which it really isn't. I was worried I ruined the chrome, but he assured me it would be fine with some chrome polish.

I was ping-ponging back and forth between euphoria--(My thighs are squeezing his rock-hard boo-tay!) to panic--(Is that rock-hard boo-tay picking up that my thighs look as if they were crudely carved out of a block lard???)--too the musical--"I'm gonna wrap my legs around his velvet rims and strap my hands across his engine!"--to the pensive--"Would he freak if I really did wrap my hands across his 'engine'? Would it be okay to nuzzle the back of his neck? Would my tongue in his ear distract him and possibly cause an accident?" And this was BEFORE I had any wine! I am normally not overtly sexual. Really. I am the sort of girl who needs to be wooed, ask any of the sexually frustrated men I have dated! Well, except for that one...

Anyway, it was a good date. He is huge, and manly and muscular, yet soft spoken and sweet and nurturing. He was all about making sure I was fine and happy. Still no good night kiss, (Thank GOD he isn't psychic and couldn't read my mind and know what I was thinking on the back of that bike!) but another hug--which somehow topped the first one. I didn't know a hug could be so satisfying. Seriously. Still, I better get a little kissy-facey next time--and he did say there would be a next time! Whoo-Hoo!

The recently and dearly departed Mr. Beaujangles and me. (I am NOT the guinea pig, BTW) 

Welcome to me...

I am not sure why I decided to give this a whirl. I am not ultra hip and cool. I don't hang out at the trendy clubs (anymore) and I am basically average in most ways--except my height--which is pretty darn short.

Anyway--my friends love my dating stories, I have many stories about my job--teaching 8th graders, and I like to talk, so why not?

If you ever feel like you are totally neurotic, and that people have no idea how to handle you, and that your life will always be in shambles, let me tell you what you need to do...
Teach 8th graders. Seriously. I know I have quirks, I know I am hyper-sensitive, but really, trust me, no matter how strange my life may feel to me, they are far worse off than me. I leave at the end of the day saying to myself, "You couldn't PAY me to be 14 again!!!" College aged--there in a heartbeat, but not 14!

And I love my students, don't get me wrong. They are funny, and sweet and I really have a good group of them this year. But when I see them, in their hormonally driven state, writing notes to the opposite sex, and putting on so much Axe, that you can almost see the stench, a la Pepe Le Pew, and the girls back stabbing their best friend while borrowing her lip gloss--I am thankful I am not there anymore. It was hard enough to navigate through when I was their age, I can't even imagine what it would be like today.

Here is the problem, though...Tuesday is my last day of school. Sure, it sounds great, but then, I have no one to make me feel less ridiculous. When I am stressing about a guy calling, or the pimple that is starting to pop-up right before my weekend in Chicago, what is going to make me feel a little more sane? Who will be fumbling around, more lost than I am, to make me know that in the grand scheme, I am doing just fine? I may need to talk to my doctor about a summer plan of Prozac, or something.

Anyway, that is all I have for now. I am supposed to have a date today. A good one. I really hope he calls and we are on still. I really hope that late tonight, or sometime tomorrow, you are all reading about my thrilling day, riding a Harley through wine-country and a nice picnic on the rolling hills. If not, I will just lurk the hallways tomorrow listening for sounds of, "How could he not call me? I thought for sure he was the one! I thought he LOVED me!!!"