Man I am out of ideas

So I keep meaning to post, but I have writer's block.
Which is to say I have a new job I am not really qualified for, which sucks away every electron of creative energy out of my brain, leaving me incapacitated when I get home and able to accomplish nothing but force my ever-tolerant boyfriend to watch "Degrassi: The Next Generation" on "The-N" (channel 298 for you DirectTVers out there).

BTW Alanis Morrisette is going to guest star on Degrassi next week as a high school principal.


I love Canadians. And bad Canadian teen-soaps-with-afterschool-special-meets-the Real World-plotlines.

Sigh.

Nostalgia....sounds like a digestive problem

Goddamn I miss my girlfriends! Who wants to give me a car so I can go roadtippin?
No one brings the nostalgia like M. I had forgotten that Clinton the Wonder-Loser had douched out on all three of us....

Man we had some hot taste in guys back then......
Yikes.

C'est lamour.....

So glad The Boy is home. Three weeks is a long time to putter around the house and talk to my cats.


Not that I don't like to talk to my cats.


They just aren't very good conversationalists. Their conversations always seem to revolve around their own needs, very selfish......

Plus it's nice to have someone else around again to pick up cat crap from the bathroom floor.


That's true romance, folks. Being there to share litterbox duties with the one you love....

"And California seemed to draw you like a siren...."

Getting psyched about my trip with D (henceforth known as "The Boy") to San Fran this coming fall. Subtracting travel time, we will have four glorious, full days in the Bay area; the longest time I've spent there on my own since we moved nearly a decade ago. It's better than coming home, because I get to show it off to someone I know will fall in love with it, too. I'm listening to the streaming webcast from my favorite San Fran radio station (at least, since Live 105 started to suck, many moons ago....), getting myself even more pumped.
We blow into the city on a Thursday afternoon, meet up with C and my long-lost-other -self, M. Rose (hopefully....we'll work those details out later); have some evening SF fun, probably spend Friday doing the sights, then I want to drive The Boy down the coast: to Monterey, where I was born.

Too romantic? Suck it up, I'm a cheeseball.

We'll likely spend the night down there Saturday, maybe do Santa Cruz (especially if M. Rose and C want to come; M. Rose went to school there so that would be fun), then head back up the coast. Monday's up in the air, as long as we're on our flight on time Tuesday morning.


Then back to work.
Sigh.

But showing off the pictures will make even that worth it.


This isn't a very exciting or insightful post, just one full of anticipation and excitement.
They say you can't go home again, which is true. But it feels really good to try sometimes.

Take me home, baby.....

For Elizabeth....

When intelligent women seek men in their life:


spineless weenies need not apply.

The Nice Guy is never the guy with no courage. The Nice Guy dares to be honest.

Nice Guys

I am a firm believer that nice guys finish first. Don't believe me? Sitting there thinking, "But I'm a nice guy and nothing good ever comes my way?"

Are you sure you're a nice guy?


I bet you're not....


Here's the way I see it:
To be a nice guy, you have to let go of the idea that if you do something good, or sweet, or romantic (or whatever), then you deserve to get something in return. "I bought her dinner, I opened the door for her, I did everything right....Why didn't she call me back?"

Because she can smell the expectation on you, buddy. We all can. And no amount of Old Spice will cover it up, either.


When I fall for a Nice Guy, it's never the guy who would get bent out of shape if I didn't call him back after he bought me a slice of pizza. Usually, this is because he is the guy who is totally oblivious to the situation. He didn't buy me pizza because he wanted to ask me out. He bought me pizza because we were both hungry and he had his wallet out first. He's the guy who strikes up a conversation with you because you're wearing the t-shirt of a band you both dig, not because he'd like to see what you've got on underneath. It surprises both parties when attraction hits.

The Nice Guy gets the girl when there are no expectations. No ulterior motives, no matter how benign. The same thing goes for Nice Girls......just like we can all smell expectations, men can smell desperation from miles away.

That's why the true Nice Guys stay under the radar, and all we hear are the posers bitching about how girls only want guys who will treat them bad. We don't.

But we'll take a guy who's honest about his intentions, no matter how unseemly, over a guy who's trying to be something he's not.


If you are gonna be a Nice Guy, do it all the way. Forget your expectations and just leap in, head first. Now THAT is sexy.

We'll cut his heart out with a spoon.....

Why a spoon?
It's duller, you twit, it'll hurt more.




If that boy hurts my girl he'll be in a world of pain. Not even from me, although if I saw him he'd lose an appendage or two, but from my girl. I wouldn't cross M. She just might have the mystical power of making men need hospitalization......


More enlightening posts will come; this was just created today so I could comment on her new angry blog. But I'm sure we'll get to all that....