An Unlikely Scenario.

Full disclosure:  I kind of secretly want a little ginger baby.  I believe they have special powers.

Romance Abounds: Minus Two

{credit}

I knew a guy once who I was set up with.  I was 18, he was..... older.  I'm actually not even being coy, I really don't remember his age.  Obviously I had no business even going out with this worm, but I was 18, and therefore still on the upswing of my stupidity arc.  You see, sometimes precociousness reveals itself in desires to be rebellious.  I know, so profound.  So I went on this date, feeling like a badass and armed only with the information that this guy was older and he drove a blue Dodge truck.  As I pulled up to the restaurant, I saw a (late twenty-early thirty something?) driving a blue Dodge in front of my car.  He was changing his shirt in the front seat, and picking his teeth into his rearview mirror.  Out of his window hung a half-tanned arm, the hand on its end dangling a cigarette.  Niiiiiice.  After 45 minutes of forced conversation about NOTHING, he dropped the bomb.  Apparently, he was recently divorced from the mother of his 2 kids and really thought I would just the ticket to drive her crazy.  

                                      "So, whatdoyouthink. I've got a boat."

On Permanence.

Oh hey, I got another tattoo.

Here's my decision making process:

Ashley had been talking about getting a tattoo for a while.  We worked on font, size, placement.  She wore a Ming-sharpie version for a few days.  On our way to the tattoo shop, we get large iced coffees.  We hadn't eaten yet that day, I was feeling preeeetty good.

So I got a tattoo.

M2820 means Matthew 28:20, which is my favorite Bible verse.   Has been since Camp Bear Paw in 1997, when I was flipping to the end of Matthew, in order to find space in my Bible to doodle.  This verse is the very last of the Book, the very last line in Jesus' Great Commission to his disciples.  He is telling them to go out in the world, to teach them everything they had been taught.

 ".....and surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

Sometimes, I think that the reason I like being alone so much is because I know I never really am.

Love Love Love.  

Evidence.

Sometimes, I get correspondence to this effect. 

I just want you all to know that even when my blog is seemingly unattended to and un-updated, I really do think about it quite a bit.  LOOK:

I keep a note in my phone to jot down things that I want to remember to blog about.  Unfortunately, the truth is that I don't really recall what any of these little blurbs mean.  You know, it's been so long.  "teachers intimate"?  Sounds like it would have been good.  Well poop.

Anyway, here's a photo of me wearing my favorite cherry red leggings.  They make me feel like a super hero.  Ashley says I should feel like a super hero every day, which is great advice.  Thanks, Ashley.

Romance Abounds: Mrs Robinson.

{credit}

I knew a guy once from childhood.  He was a few years younger than me, but always around hanging out with my friends' little sibs.  He was a total social nuisance, a mud baby and Lost Boy.  I used to roll my eyes at his antics, glad that I wouldn't be the one having to bail him out of jail some day.

Well a while later, he showed up to a summer gathering at a mutual friend's house.  I hadn't seen him in years, and the years gone did him good.  He was tall, tanned, and all of a sudden, matured.  He cycled.  He was going to art school.  He played the guitar.  He had dreams.  We laid on our backs on the lawn as it got dark, and he told me myths about the constellations and how the moon affects our weather.  He would lean his head in to touch mine as he pointed out the stars.  I started humming Simon and Garfunkle in my head, only to be interrupted by his friends, barking at him that they wanted to move on to the next gathering down the street.  My friends were barking too, to come get in the hot tub.  Wordlessly, we both got up.  I looked up at him and shrugged.  He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the shadow of the hedges along the house.

"Wish I was getting in the hot tub," he breathed into my ear.  He sauntered off, turning around to wink at me.

                           I stood there in the dark, paralyzed.

For those who might be curious, he did find me again, but the romance ended there in the shadows.  Drama.

On Career Paths.

Satisfied customers.

Does there exist such an occupation where, I could come to your wedding..... and make it fun. 

I think I could make a LOT of couples happy. 

I mean, these people spend countless hours and thousands of dollars trying to create the Perfect Day, right?  In all reality, what people talk about is How Fun/Lame the Party Was. 

What I Will Bring to Your Day:

1. No one will remember how you ran out of champagne if I am delivering a toast.  I will likely be singin, crying, gesturing wildly, or a  combination of all three.  The drama of it all will distract all attendees from the waitstaff forgetting to bring the rolls out.  (Not the ROLLS!)

2.  I will always gladly take on the task of Starting the Dance Floor.  Every bride is always concerned with this Great Feat.  Rest assured, I don't care about how I appear to your dorky relatives from Iowa.  Strike it up, Mr. DJ.

2a.  I know all the steps to the Electric Slide, Boot Scootin Boogie, Bunny Hop, the Pretzel, Cupid Shuffle, and Dougie.  I would throw this service in for free, but will charge if I have to put my hands on your Aunt Marge's shoulders or if I get stepped on.  

3.  I will get your crankiest family member on the dance floor.  He (it's always a he) will find me adorable, or in the very least oblige me in fear of appearing racist.  

4.  I will request the sleeper hit.  I'm not embarrassed to make the DJ download Justin Bieber on his iTunes.  Everyone will love it, and everyone will talk about how cute it was that the DJ had such "bad taste". 

5.  I will stop the conga line. 

6. I will inevitably end up having a heart-to-heart with one of your immediate family.  The Big Pink Elephant will be resolved, and you will leave on your honeymoon in peace. 

7.  I will make sure you get your money's worth from the bartender.  Sometimes, I will even surprise you and pay for a keg.  Because I didn't bring a gift.  Because I never do. 

8. I will end up in the bathroom with the bride at a very opportune moment.  To hand her my lipstick/shoes/ponytailer/the rest of her dress.

9.  I will randomly bring the "ONE THING youcantbelieveyoudidntthinkof" that made the party.  Like glowsticks. 

10.  I will play along with any 'wedding clingers' I might come upon as to maintain the fun of your reception.  I will give them all fake numbers, but there will be no 'scene' to buzzkill your Wedding of the Century.  I will run interference on all of your bridesmaids and young cousins.  Everyone will think they fell in love at your wedding, until the next morning.  

Feel free to contact me to discuss pricing!  Discount if you mention my blog!

Possible Business Card Ideas:

Romance Abounds: Minus One

Hey,

I am not going soft.
Don't think all this remembrance of Romance Past doesn't also bring about memories of Very Unromantic Moments.  I shall also share with you my most vivid VUMs, and you can decide which are Mini-Series worthy.

Once, in an otherwise intimate moment, This Guy sat up from where we were intertwined, looked at me seriously, and declared:

"You know, you actually are quite attractive."

Umm, excuse me?  Did I tell you I thought I was unattractive, or did you simply find me unattractive until this very moment?

I didn't actually do that math.  Declared him a Spoon and called it Tuesday.

On Movement of Time.

She tells me this is how I should be applying night cream.
I'm not taking note. 

Every one has that Year.

The one where you don't necessarily feel invincible anymore.

The one when the girls at the Nordstrom counters seem impossibly spry.  and annoying.

The one where the music at Intelligentsia just feels a bit too loud and the lighting at all of the hip little corner restaurants feels too low.  HOW DO I SEE OR HEAR ANYTHING?!

The one when no one asks for your ID anymore.  (except at the movies?!  what?!)

The one where you learn what an IRA is and why your parents were always talking about 401ks.

The one when your friends are all talking about eye serum and varicose vein prevention.

The one when you realize that all eligible men in your age division are A: already attached to Mrs. Right, or B: already attached to Mrs. Wrong. (read: you're gonna have to wait for the divorce/breakup/widowing)

The one where intended "All Night Ragers" end up like this:

.... and there is no rallying.  Once this happens, you must be taken home and put to bed.  Even if it's 11pm.  You don't remember putting your jammies on.  Because you were in REM sleep the entire time.

The one where you kind of don't seek out new music anymore.  You already have so much you know you like, and not enough time to listen to it all.  Gasp.

The one where you don't find grammar mistakes cute, and write people off for in-eloquence in correspondence.  Likewise, you find well spoken-ness irresistible.

The one where you start wondering who will be taking care of you in your old age..... even if you decide just to not live to an age that requires taking care of.

The one where you start listening to NPR in the car.  Groan.

The one where you finally relent and admit.... you probably can't pull off that pouffy skirt or gingham dress anymore.  But you keep the tutu and cowboy boots.

Oh hey, 26.  You're an asshole. 

Romance Abounds: The Jacket Man

{credit}

Hey Girl,  Aren't You Freezing?


I met a guy once at a dinner party.  He was the best friend of my best friend's fella and, unbeknownst to both of us, the entire gang had been scheming this set up for months.  He was sweet, goofy, and completely unaware of his own boyish charm.  He had terrible taste in music and no sense of style.  Still, I thought he was darling and was taken by his sheepish glances in my direction.  After our meal, two of girls decided we wanted to head downtown to go dancing.  He requested to come along (good move, man.).  As we stood outside in the crisp Fall night awaiting admittance into the club, I was shaking and shivering in my skirt and tights.  With a very apparent twinkle in his eye, he turned to me with his hands in his coat pockets.
 "Come here."
                 He smiled, and opened his coat for me to join him in.  I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his jacket around both of us.  He swayed us around on the sidewalk, and I completely forgot about how I always roll my eyes at everything.

Now, when I think about it, it makes me laugh at how easily I fell for that move.  Then I roll my eyes.

Romance Abounds: My JT

I met a guy once in Jr. High.  He was the older brother of a friend of mine, and I always saw him at youth group functions and summer days on the lake.  When he smiled, he looked exactly like Justin Timberlake, and had some serious skateboard skills.  He knew how to dance and was adorably protective of his little sister, in the way that drives preteen girls wild.  Of course by my 13 year old perception, he had no idea I was alive.  Then one night, our youth group spent our weekly meeting at the neighborhood rollerskate rink.  You know, disco lights, YMCA, chicken dance, the whole deal.  NSYNC’s “God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You” started overhead (I know! best song ever!), and they announced the couples skate.  I was being dragged onto the rink by the little Germ that was following me around at the time, and thus I was bemoaning my very existence.  From behind, my JT whizzed up between us, breaking our handhold. 

“Excuse me”, he declared. 

                                                     “But she should be skating with me.”

He grabbed my hand (the boyfriend way!!) and basically dragged me around the rink for the remaining four minutes.  I merely tried my best to maintain consciousness through the song.  Even now, my heartbeat quickens in remembrance.  Logically, I bet he was sent to save me by my meddling Mean Girl friends.  But man, it was romantic as hell.  

Feeling nostalgic?  Wanna read this again while being serenaded?  Well I would not deny you that. 

Romance Abounds.

Think she would do my Theme Song?? {credit}

Did you know: dating can be a very unproductive distraction??   I've been unproductive lately.

I cant figure this out.  People assume that my dating life is just one episode after another of The Bachelorette, just endless beautiful people and fantastical dates.

MAJOR exposé :  My eventual mini-series to be featured on HBO  will be called "Ten Thousand Spoons (when all I need is a knife)"  and will make "GIRLS" seem like a Garry Marshall rom-com. 

A rudimentary story board.

The last six months I have been pacifying myself with oh, so many spoons.  There is just always something not quite right about every single one.

All of this lackluster might be enough to make a girl stop believing in real affection.  I mean really, the nonsense I put myself through is enough to just sew myself shut and go live among the bushmen in the Amazon.

Well, I'm not.

But my sour attitude is concerning.  In an effort to prevent the Extreme Display that may result, I spent an afternoon recalling the most romantic moments of my life.  Don't you want to know?  Behold, a series.

Oh Hey, guys.

Wondering where I've been?  Yeah me, too.

The truth is,  this is what's been going on.

One Day:

{credit}

AH! LIFE IS SO GRAND!

I LOVE LA!  THE SUN! THE FUN!

I'M SO HOPEFUL ABOUT MY DREAMS!

I HAVE TALENT!

I AM FIT AND VITAL!

LET'S GO DANCE ON THE BEACH AND MAKE OUT!

The Next:

{credit}

i hate everyone.

i hate la. 

shut up.

i'm just gonna watch season 2 again. 

I swear, some days I just feel so fantastic about who I am and where I am headed, and other days I can barely scrape my face off of my couch cushion.  I feel miserable, exhausted, and beyond pathetic.  I stare annoyedly at the ringing phone and decidedly don't contact daylight.  I fall in and out of sleep, while distracting myself with any form of entertainment that can make my mind quiet.  My mail piles up, because I can't stomach the anxiety of having to open any of it.  I know, it's mail.  

Well, my usual remedy for this illness is to run toward another fresh start.  This girl just thrives on something ELSE.  So I start dreaming of places to go, things to see.  My fingers start flying over my keyboard, searching Craigslist for sublets in Nashville and jobs in Chicago.  I mean, there are still so many cities I want to live in, and so many people I don't know yet....  

Well poop.  I just can't yet stand the thought of leaving all of the improv, comedy, acting stuff.  Coco JUST moved here, and I really do love so many things about LA. 

So here's my compromise to myself.  I basically took the summer off from ambition, laying around and being a piece.  At this point, I'm gonna give this all another good college try.  Really do it.  After the end of the year, I'll run away somewhere else if I still can't calm myself.   Ready, steady....