Tomorrow.
Totally.
Tomorrow.
life, love, laughs, lists, gifs, cats, culture, yoga, health, and other sordid things in the city of angels
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Just. So. Cool.
I am a responsible adult.
Which means I carry a breathalyzer keychain in my purse and take my BAC before driving, and let my date use it too.
I am class, personified.
That is all.
Which means I carry a breathalyzer keychain in my purse and take my BAC before driving, and let my date use it too.
I am class, personified.
That is all.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Dating Reel Highlights
So my experiment with Internet dating has been interesting, at the least, and successful at best, if you count a scheduled next date with an adorable redhead as a success. Which I certainly do.
I met three guys off the site in the first week. I saw one of them a second time, and the third, the Ginger, a second, third and soon to be fourth. I've chatted back and forth with a few guys in the past few weeks, but no one has totally tickled my fancy, and honestly the whole first date thing is kind of draining and I'm so lazy. I have one new guy I may see next week when he returns from a business trip, but until then I'm content with my one date a week schedule with a deliciously witty paramedic-in-training. Unless a Michael Fassbender lookalike messages me and offers me pie. Then we'll see.
So, throughout this past month or so of dating, there have been a handful of interesting moments and discussion-worthy topics. And lucky you, I'm going to share.
Follow me below the cut for some romance...
I met three guys off the site in the first week. I saw one of them a second time, and the third, the Ginger, a second, third and soon to be fourth. I've chatted back and forth with a few guys in the past few weeks, but no one has totally tickled my fancy, and honestly the whole first date thing is kind of draining and I'm so lazy. I have one new guy I may see next week when he returns from a business trip, but until then I'm content with my one date a week schedule with a deliciously witty paramedic-in-training. Unless a Michael Fassbender lookalike messages me and offers me pie. Then we'll see.
So, throughout this past month or so of dating, there have been a handful of interesting moments and discussion-worthy topics. And lucky you, I'm going to share.
Follow me below the cut for some romance...
Seven Day Challenge EPIC FAIL
I did not want to go to yoga this morning. I woke up, and I didn't want to go, and I got up and got dressed and went anyway.
Or, I started to go. I stepped out onto the landing. I pulled the locked door shut behind me. And realized I forgot my keys.
I spent the next two and a half hours waiting for two locksmiths who both lied repeatedly about how long it would take, and was finally rescued by my landlady. So at least I didn't have to spend $100 bucks getting my goddamn door open.
This? Is my life, in a nutshell.
So, I didn't go to yoga. Seven Day Challenge starts TOMORROW.
Or, I started to go. I stepped out onto the landing. I pulled the locked door shut behind me. And realized I forgot my keys.
I spent the next two and a half hours waiting for two locksmiths who both lied repeatedly about how long it would take, and was finally rescued by my landlady. So at least I didn't have to spend $100 bucks getting my goddamn door open.
This? Is my life, in a nutshell.
So, I didn't go to yoga. Seven Day Challenge starts TOMORROW.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
On Honesty
So, I'm at a point where I'm not sure how much I do and do not want to share on this blog.
On the one hand, the whole point is honesty. And I am nothing if not brutally that. And I really feel no shame about revealing things of a rather personal nature about myself, I act like a freak on a regular basis so it's not as if I'm really attempting any semblance of normalcy. And of all the things I could talk about, weight loss and my issues are probably some of the most personal. I certainly wouldn't feel embarrassed sharing most the details of my various exploits.
What I'm considering, though, is my audience. I've shared this link with plenty of friends and family (HI DAD!), and they've passed it along. I'm just not too sure I need to share with them all the truth of my crystal meth addiction, secret black market baby farm and fetish for men dressed as Disney characters.
And for instance, I have dozens of no doubt fascinating words written about this new boy I am seeing. From the Internet. First of all, he's a ginger, and I just fucking LOVE me a hot ginger. It's a long-standing appreciation. We've had three dates and they just keep getting better---this past Friday was wine tasting on a hill overlooking Los Angeles at sunset, followed by meeting his friends at a bar. Then making out like teenagers for a good couple of hours during which he acted like a perfect gentleman. Smart, funny, attractive, has yet to reveal himself as a stealth asshole. *swoon*
But you know, he could read this, eventually, depending on how things go. Or he could have already found it using some Google-fu, though this I doubt (he did, however, friend me on Facebook, and I was not sure that he knew my last name). So maybe I don't want him to discover my ramblings over how to craft the perfect hilarious text message. Because while it's well known that women are cray cray, I don't need to put it in black and white for him to see. I am being zeeeen.
So for now, I will keep my trap mostly shut.
Except to say that the boy can kiss.
On the one hand, the whole point is honesty. And I am nothing if not brutally that. And I really feel no shame about revealing things of a rather personal nature about myself, I act like a freak on a regular basis so it's not as if I'm really attempting any semblance of normalcy. And of all the things I could talk about, weight loss and my issues are probably some of the most personal. I certainly wouldn't feel embarrassed sharing most the details of my various exploits.
What I'm considering, though, is my audience. I've shared this link with plenty of friends and family (HI DAD!), and they've passed it along. I'm just not too sure I need to share with them all the truth of my crystal meth addiction, secret black market baby farm and fetish for men dressed as Disney characters.
And for instance, I have dozens of no doubt fascinating words written about this new boy I am seeing. From the Internet. First of all, he's a ginger, and I just fucking LOVE me a hot ginger. It's a long-standing appreciation. We've had three dates and they just keep getting better---this past Friday was wine tasting on a hill overlooking Los Angeles at sunset, followed by meeting his friends at a bar. Then making out like teenagers for a good couple of hours during which he acted like a perfect gentleman. Smart, funny, attractive, has yet to reveal himself as a stealth asshole. *swoon*
But you know, he could read this, eventually, depending on how things go. Or he could have already found it using some Google-fu, though this I doubt (he did, however, friend me on Facebook, and I was not sure that he knew my last name). So maybe I don't want him to discover my ramblings over how to craft the perfect hilarious text message. Because while it's well known that women are cray cray, I don't need to put it in black and white for him to see. I am being zeeeen.
So for now, I will keep my trap mostly shut.
Except to say that the boy can kiss.
Seven Day Challenge
So, I sort of lost some of that awesome motivation I had for awhile there. I'm not quite sure what happened.
Well, that's not entirely true. I hit something of a stall these past five weeks, and after the first few, I let it get to me. Just when I get a little cocky confident and brag about my awesome progress, my psyche likes to rear up and bitch slap me in the face. That's what happened.
My weight loss has looked like this:
-0.4
+0.2
0
-1.6
+1.4
Frustrating, as you can imagine. But I stayed positive! I told myself hey, I'm still lighter than I have been in years of weeks, what's a few of them spent bouncing around the same few pounds? And that kept me (mostly) in check with my eating, but last week I slacked off a bit on yoga.
Then this week, I slacked off more.
And when I see that a big chunk of my paycheck was automatically deducted from my account to pay for said yoga, I start feeling guilty. And guilt leads to shame. And I don't deal with with negative emotions. I swallow them up and self-sabotage.
Sigh.
BUT. Things are turning around. On Friday of last week I was steady around 156. I woke up Saturday morning after a night of drinking, and found myself to be 152ish. Conclusion: Drinking is good for me. I thought it would go back up, and it must have been the result of dehydration. Not so. The loss is still holding today.
I am not going to let this awesomeness make me complacent. I am going to use it as fuel.
SO THIS WEEK. Starting tomorrow. I am challenging myself to go to yoga every day for seven days. Spain is coming up, and I know the more I go to yoga the better I will feel as I frolic around in the sun wearing a maxi dress and giant hat.
I know I can do it. I know I want to do it.
I just have to do it.
Well, that's not entirely true. I hit something of a stall these past five weeks, and after the first few, I let it get to me. Just when I get a little cocky confident and brag about my awesome progress, my psyche likes to rear up and bitch slap me in the face. That's what happened.
My weight loss has looked like this:
-0.4
+0.2
0
-1.6
+1.4
Frustrating, as you can imagine. But I stayed positive! I told myself hey, I'm still lighter than I have been in years of weeks, what's a few of them spent bouncing around the same few pounds? And that kept me (mostly) in check with my eating, but last week I slacked off a bit on yoga.
Then this week, I slacked off more.
And when I see that a big chunk of my paycheck was automatically deducted from my account to pay for said yoga, I start feeling guilty. And guilt leads to shame. And I don't deal with with negative emotions. I swallow them up and self-sabotage.
Sigh.
BUT. Things are turning around. On Friday of last week I was steady around 156. I woke up Saturday morning after a night of drinking, and found myself to be 152ish. Conclusion: Drinking is good for me. I thought it would go back up, and it must have been the result of dehydration. Not so. The loss is still holding today.
I am not going to let this awesomeness make me complacent. I am going to use it as fuel.
SO THIS WEEK. Starting tomorrow. I am challenging myself to go to yoga every day for seven days. Spain is coming up, and I know the more I go to yoga the better I will feel as I frolic around in the sun wearing a maxi dress and giant hat.
I know I can do it. I know I want to do it.
I just have to do it.
My New Superpower (Part the Second)
IT HAPPENED AGAIN.
Last night I tweeted that the seven hours since I sent a rather hilarious text to a boy felt like the longest awkward silence ever.
Then just a mere eight minutes later, he texts a reply.
Boom, baby.
Last night I tweeted that the seven hours since I sent a rather hilarious text to a boy felt like the longest awkward silence ever.
Then just a mere eight minutes later, he texts a reply.
Boom, baby.
Monday, June 4, 2012
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Saturday, June 2, 2012
My New Superpower
I would just like to announce to the world that I conjured a text message using the power of my brain.
On my way to meet a date last night (and a lovely date indeed), my mind drifted to a friend I met on the same dating site almost two years ago. We haven't spoken in almost a year, and as I sat in traffic in West Hollywood I wondered if I would ever get my deserved apology from him.
(I am anticipating two apologies, currently. I keep a running tally. But I digress.)
Lo and behold, later in the evening I pulled out my phone in the bathroom at Dillon's in Hollywood and found two text messages from an unknown number. A drunken, eloquent, and apparently heartfelt apology.
Of course, I had to reply, "Your number isn't saved. Who is this?" Ouch. Two apologies, two possibilities. I did assume I knew who it was, considering my ex-boyfriend probably doesn't have the emotional capacity for the depth of this sentiment, but I had to make sure. And I was right. And the apology was appreciated.
But anyway, that is not the relevant part of the story. My whole point is that I have a superpower, y'all. Either I conjured that text message using the force, or I'm just psychic.
Bow down.
On my way to meet a date last night (and a lovely date indeed), my mind drifted to a friend I met on the same dating site almost two years ago. We haven't spoken in almost a year, and as I sat in traffic in West Hollywood I wondered if I would ever get my deserved apology from him.
(I am anticipating two apologies, currently. I keep a running tally. But I digress.)
Lo and behold, later in the evening I pulled out my phone in the bathroom at Dillon's in Hollywood and found two text messages from an unknown number. A drunken, eloquent, and apparently heartfelt apology.
Of course, I had to reply, "Your number isn't saved. Who is this?" Ouch. Two apologies, two possibilities. I did assume I knew who it was, considering my ex-boyfriend probably doesn't have the emotional capacity for the depth of this sentiment, but I had to make sure. And I was right. And the apology was appreciated.
But anyway, that is not the relevant part of the story. My whole point is that I have a superpower, y'all. Either I conjured that text message using the force, or I'm just psychic.
Bow down.
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