Is anyone really surprised that these are on clearance?

I didn’t think so.

Is it too soon for me to play this game?

We shall see…

*****

*theme song*

WELCOME TO THE DATING GAME!

Host: Our next bachelorette is a 40-year old 2-time loser divorcee from Utah, who likes music, movies, camping, and crafts, feels horny alone, and feels the need to get laid get back out there. Please welcome…STACEY!

*applause*

Host: So, Stacey. You’ve signed up on a couple of online dating sites.

Me: Yes I have. (No, I’m not gonna tell you which sites I signed up on. And no, it wasn’t eHarmony, cuz they have this tiny little ANNOYING quirk that your divorce has to actually be FINAL before they will let you become a member. And it wasn’t yet. Assholes.)

Host: You’ve survived the challenges of creating a username (eliciting help from a friend who has experience in online dating, laughing at every suggestion she came up with, and in the end choosing an absolutely retarded safe name), completing your profile, uploading a picture, and writing your description.

Me: *nervous laugh* Y-yes.

Host: And you’re not looking for anything serious?

Me: That’s correct. I just want to meet new people and have some fun.

Host: Well great! Let’s get to know the bachelors then!

Me: Bachelor #1, you have a really nice smile.

B1: Thanks.

Me: How would we get to know each other better?

B1: Well, we would start by e-mailing each other while you are in Vegas for the weekend with friends. After a few great e-mails, you would give me your cell number.

Me: Sounds good.

B1: We would start texting each other and those would be good too. I’d even suggest that we go dancing so that we can fix your out-of-practice 2-step. We would trade pictures and your friends would tell you I’m cute.

Me: I like that.

B1: And on the day you’re going back home I would ask if you made it back to the hotel before dawn. Then I would comment that your trip couldn’t have been all that great if you didn’t gamble and didn’t hook up with anyone.

Me: Oh……ok.

B1: We would continue to trade texts for a few hours while you are driving back home. And then I would just stop texting. For no reason. And when you send me an email a few days later, I won’t respond.

Me: ………

B1: And to top it all off, a week later, I’ll include you in a generic holiday greeting I send to all my contacts. That spans 7 text messages.

Me: Well, you would only have been the 1st I’ve met, so cute or not, I won’t let you discourage me. But you should know that I would think you’re an asshole. I’m just saying.

Me: Bachelor #2, same question.

B2: Have you had any luck yet?

Me: Not yet. I’m new to this. What about you?

B2: I’m new too.

Me: So how would we get to know each other better?

B2: Sex.

Me: Wha?

B2: Sex. You want sex, right?

Me: (YES!) No, that’s not what I’m looking for. (That’s good. Sound innocent so he won’t think you’re a ho.)

B2: Well, it’s been over a year for me. And I’m a nice guy. And you’ll get an orgasm.

Me: (Which means you’re prolly an axe murderer. And it shouldn’t matter that it’s been over a year for me too.) Mmmm… (Oh shit. Did I say that OUT LOUD?)

Me: Bachelor #3.

B3: Pick me! Hint hint.

Me: What would be your idea of a good first date?

B3: Well, after trading some text messages, I would suggest that you should invite me over for a drink, cuz you clearly need ice or…something. You would invite me over, we would have a few drinks, talk, and get to know each other.

Me: That sounds nice.

B3: At the end of the date, I would act confused on whether I should shake your hand, hug, or kiss you. You would offer me a hug, and I would not let you go very quickly, even though you try to pull away. I would insist on quite a few more hugs before I leave, too.

Me: Um……

B3: After I got home, I would text you pictures of my cats and tell you I wish I had gotten even more hugs from you. Then I would text you just about every day (including more cat pics) and tell you I miss your company. And your liquor cabinet.

Me: Making me wish you would lose my number. Like yesterday. The people I text every day are those that I’ve known for a couple of DECADES. Not a couple of DAYS. Btw, can I get your last name? I need it for the restraining order.

*****

Perhaps it is too early for me to be playing this game.

P.S. It’s taken me forever to finish writing this.

P.P.S. I keep having to stop writing and start drinking.

P.P.P.S. To try to forget.

P.P.P.P.S. That Bachelor #3 WON’T. STOP. TEXTING. ME.

P.P.P.P.P.S. I think I might put Bachelor #2 on speed dial.

1. The 2nd interview yesterday went well. I think. Keep your fingers crossed for me. And toes. And maybe even your eyes. And hell, if you can cross your bewbs, do it. I need all the help I can get. And know that I’m not opposed to using bribes to get this job.

2. SLCC must have heard all my bitching about their web design degree req’s. Cuz the new catalog now includes a couple of art classes that focus more on the digital design aspect. Yep. I totally made that happen. And I didn’t even have to give a blow job.

3. I’m putting together a playlist of really good sex songs. You know, for when I actually have sex again. With someone else, that is. Recommendations are welcome. For songs. Oh…OK. I’ll consider partner recommendations too.

4. I think my blog needs an overhaul. And I don’t think my skills are quite there yet. So if you stop by, and it’s a bright purple background with neon green text, bear with me. I’m still learning. And the spots you see will eventually fade. I promise.

5. I bought new sheets, a new comforter, new pillows, new shams, and even a brand new mattress. And I STILL wake up stuffed up. Every. Damn. Morning. I give up.

6. I still have to think before I introduce myself, especially when I’m on the phone. You would think that the 20 years I went by my maiden name would override the 14 years I went by my married name. Oh, and GUESS WHAT? If you shorten my name, I’m sPad. Fucking awesome.

7. If I have it my way, I’ll be partying with all the hotties at BlogHer@Home in my new place. And I’ll be KIDLESS that weekend! I can’t wait! Now I just gotta find someone to bankroll my booze.

8. Dating. Fucking. Sucks. Or maybe it’s just that dating in Utah that sucks. No. I’m pretty sure dating bites the big one globally. I think I’m gonna need more alcohol to get through this. Or even just to get through the post I’m writing about my experiences thus far.

9. Coming up with 10 things is HARD. I think I may need more caffeine. In the form of Starbucks of course.

10. 2 packed boxes is NOTHING in the grand scheme of things. I still have a shitload of crap to pack. So, if you’re heading out my way, and have a death wish wanna help, I would be more than happy to help you out (we have lots of high places here) SOOO grateful to have you here. Oh, and I have beer. And wine. And liquor. Did I mention that I have no trouble resorting to bribes?

This is just plain awesome.

Moral of the story: Don’t. Forget. The. Ice.

Bet you wish you knew what’s 1st and 2nd.

Saturday I went out with a bunch of friends to see The Spazmatics at Liquid Joe’s.

Never been to Liquid Joe’s before. And this is Utah, remember? So I am always leery of new places. Bar/club type places. Don’t ask me why.

Ok, go ahead and ask.

I guess I just feel that bars/clubs in mormon country are an incompatibility. So far, I’ve been proven wrong.

But, there’s always that chance. That one chance that the next bar/club will prove me right.

And you don’t blame me, right? That’s what I thought.

**********

Since The Spazmatics play 80′s & 90′s music, one of the girls had an idea of dressing 80′s style. I was stoked. THEME NIGHT. I know a lot of the crap amazingly awesome clothes we wore back then are totally coming back in style. What better reason to go shopping? So I decide on skinny jeans, slouch boots, and bangles. LOTS. OF. BANGLES. I represented the 80′s well without being, um, like, ohmahGAWD! Gag me with a spoon!

The band was A-MA-ZING. They played THE BEST songs. They played Goody Two Shoes and I nearly jumped on stage. And when they played Rebel Yell? I demonstrated my expert headbanging skillz. Trust me, I’m a pro. You would have been absolutely mortified totally impressed had you been there.

It was so funny how easily I fell back into the 80′s dancing style. The music just moved me. Back a couple decades apparently.

The band took a break from the 80′s to play Alice in Chains’ Man in the Box. And they were TEARIN. IT. UP. Until about halfway through the song when they dead stopped, said that was enough, and launched back into 80′s music again. FUCKERS.

Wha? I like that song!

But what forever sealed the band’s place in my heart was when they played my husband’s most famous song, Jessie’s Girl. Which also nearly got me banned from the bar, bcuz OBVIOUSLY. Bitch, don’t you be talkin about him like that or I will totally stab you. He’s my motherfucking husband! (Ok, so he’s my fantasy husband, but she didn’t know that.)

**********

Towards the end of the show, my hips were starting to hurt. I didn’t worry about it too much. We were all still havin so much fun. When it was time to go, though, I had trouble bending my leg to get in the car. I wish I could I say I was kidding. I finally managed to swing my straight leg into the car and then wiggle my ass to get it into the seat. Whew!

By the time I got home, I could barely get out of the car and walk to the front door.

When the hell did I get to be so old?

I quickly brushed my teeth, cuz it hurt to even do THAT. WTF? Actually, I think that was from going to the batting cages on Friday bcuz I needed to… umm… hit some balls.

Note: The girl at the batting cages counter looked at me really strangely when I asked if I was allowed to paste pictures to the balls that were going to my machine. Wha? I think having that as an option would boost business. STOP JUDGING ME.

Anyway…

I decided that raccoon eyes would be completely acceptable in the morning, since it would only be me and the cat. And she’s mentioned that she likes it when I have raccoon eyes. This would be the same cat that likes to try to lick my moisturizer off my face. Yeah, I don’t get it either. But whatever.

So I crawled into bed (after briefly considered flinging myself on the bed to keep from having to bend my legs) and passed out. Sorta. It was more like Ahhhhhh…ow…OW…OWIE!

Did I mention that I was stone cold sober?

Apparently, if I don’t drink? I’m in pain. So not fair.

Have y’all heard of an AMF?

I see some of you sitting there nodding your heads going, “OH. HELL. YEAH.”

The rest of you? Do. Not. Know. What. You’re. Missing.

AMF stands for Adios Mother Fucker. And the name fits.

This drink, in a state of 3-2 beer, WILL fuck you up nicely.

You’re welcome.

***

I had 5 of these one night and could not talk afterwards (the Sake Bomb at dinner had NOTHING to do with that, I promise you). And I was completely aware of how badly I was slurring my words. So this drink offers you the best of both worlds. You get to BE the hilarious drunk girl/guy & you get to LAUGH AT the drunk girl/guy at the same time. SCORE.

I found the recipe for this awesome concoction and suggested an AMF night at my house to my friends. They jumped on that before I even finished the sentence. Cuz they know it will be full of teh awesome.

So, next Friday, there’s a party at my house. An AMF party. And you’re ALL invited.

Oh? You can’t make it? Well, that’s disappointing.

Honestly, though, you HAVE to try this, so I’ve included the recipe for y’all. Cuz I’m all about sharing. Except men. I don’t share men*. Or knives. Get your own.

*If you’ve heard anything to the contrary, it’s LIES. ALL. LIES. And I’ll stab whoever is spreading those viscous untruths. No wait. That doesn’t look right. Vicous. That looks wrong too. Vishus. FUCK. Just know that I’ll stab you. That’s enough.

P.S. Before I published this, I realized that it said gun instead of gin. I made sure to fix it for y’all though. Cuz I’m considerate that way. I don’t do guns and I don’t want anyone getting killed cuz I was too lazy to proofread my post.

P.P.S. You’re welcome.

I need help. No, other than the obvious help we ALL KNOW I need. I need hair help. And I’m turning to y’all for advice. Cuz I’m desperate I trust you.

My relationship with my hair is volatile. And cyclical. I grow it out, get fed up with it, chop some (or all) of it off, grow it out, get fed up with it, chop it off….. you get the picture. And often during one of these cycles I get a wild hair up my ass to change the color. And proceed to fuck it up beyond repair. How in the hell did I manage to not make it all fall out? Your guess is as good as mine. And now that I’ve said that, it will all fall out just to spite me. I can just hear it now:

Think you managed to dodge a bullet by not having me fall out from all the damage you’ve done to me? And just what do you think those hairs you find in the sink and all over your clothes ARE? That’s just the beginning if you don’t start respecting me BITCH!

Wow. Did you just get the chills? I did. I might be in serious trouble, so you need to HELP. ME. PLZ. And fast.

My most recent hair cycle has lasted over 3 years. Yep you read that right. I have not cut my hair (other than a trim here, an inch there) for 3 years. Now, don’t get all excited. You should know that my hair growth is sooper dooper SSSLLLOOOOOWWW. And after all that time, my hair doesn’t even reach my bra strap in back right now. Which might not be saying all that much since my boobs are migrating south for more than just the winter.

So, this is me today (or more accurately, yesterday):

It’s longer in the back, but I suck at taking pictures of my front, so I’m not going to even try to take pictures of my back. And I promise that nothing’s changed since yesterday. I did NOT go all hari kari on my hair in a fit of frustration last nite. But that totally sounds like something I would do, doesn’t it?

Anyway, I look at my hair &….. there’s just something off about it. It just looks WRONG. But I can’t pinpoint what the problem is. Is it too long? Should I part it differently? Does it just plain need a style overhaul? I have no idea.

I’ve fought with my hair for most of my adult life bcuz I was under the assumption that I have a round face shape. Lately, I’m not so sure that I really do have a round face. I’m starting to wonder if I don’t just have a fat oval face shape (which is great cuz like I need ANOTHER part of me to be fat *SIGH*). And this is one aspect where I could use a second (or a hundredth) opinion. Help!

There is one thing I should get outta the way. Short hair is not an option. I repeat, SHORT HAIR IS NOT AN OPTION. I fought every urge I had to shave my head over the past 3 years, bcuz of this:

I hate this picture. And don’t tell me I look good, cuz I know better. And this would not be one of the important times when I need you to lie to me.

So, here’s where I turn to you and ask, “What are your thoughts?” Good or bad, I wanna know. Really.

No, REALLY.

BUT, before you decide whether you want to help this crazy person, here are some helpful hints:

• My hair is fine. Not fine as in good, cuz I just got thru telling you the exact opposite. Fine, as in baby hair fine thankyouverymuchmomanddad. It has a mind of its own too. If I want it to curl one way, it will curl the other way, or not at all. And I swear I can hear laughing while all that’s going on.
• I like easy hairstyles. Styles that don’t require me to spend an hour in the bathroom with a flat iron, curling iron, and every hair product under the sun to achieve the perfect coif. I like styles that are as close to blow-dry-and-out-the-door as possible (which I’m sure I’ll have to abandon once I get outta Utah’s dry climate).
• My hair does NOT like to hold a curl. And bcuz of this, any curling iron larger than 1″ is outta the question. I have to use a 1″ curling iron or smaller to get curls that look like they came from big velcro rollers or large-barrel curling irons. And those curls? Last about 2 hours. If I’m lucky.
• I have the best stylist. EVER. She has hair just like mine, so she knows all about my frustrations. She also does exactly what I ask. And I love her for that.

So, think you can help me out? I would be ETERNALLY grateful.

And I’m not opposed to bribing you with alcohol. Or sexual favors.