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Love | | Page 5

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Ryan Gosling has finally found me! And by me, I mean, he’s in the city of Austin and has yet to call/text/write/approach me in anyway other than in my imaginings. Nevertheless, I’m quite sure something (Was it my aura? My pheromones?) compelled him to come to Austin and seek out his romantic fortunes. Sure, the lamestream media claims he is here shooting a movie, but since when have they gotten anything right? So, because I’m such a flirtation failure, I decided to plan out all the things I want to say to Ryan when we finally star-crossedly meet, you know, so I don’t embarrass myself.

When he tries to leave town: It’s wasn’t over. It’s *still* not over! You see what I did there honeyanglebabycakes? I used your line from The Notebook to reference our romance. That’s how seriously I take our relationship. 

When he asks me for directions: I can give you directions to my heart. Spoiler alert- you’re already there. (winks)

When he remarks how odd it is that I keep showing up wherever he is: Hahahahahaha! You’re so funny. But seriously, what are we going to do about this…you know, me and you thing? It’s like animal attraction and pure Nicholas Sparks romance.

When we go to the movies together: What a *Drive*.  But, *All Good Things* take time. Wow, this theater is so packed you would think it was the *Ides of March*. I don’t mind though because I *Crazy, Stupid, Love* going to the movies. You should make a note of that, maybe write it in *The Notebook*. Ok, ok. I’ll stop using your movies in sentences, but be real though, you love it. 

When we inevitably and oh so sadly break-up (he was just *too* into me): Hey. Hey you with the tears in your eyes. Look at me. We had something incredibly special, no one is denying that, but a love like ours burns fast and bright baby. Like a comet. Comets do that right? Anyway, you’ll always hold a special place in my aorta. Ok? And hey, you’re still super hot, girls love you, you won’t have any trouble finding someone new. Sure, they will never live up to the impossible standard I’ve set but we all have our crosses to bear. Now, get back out there and try to love again. (Slaps him on the butt because, hey, it’s Ryan Gosling people)

You might think this doesn’t seem like a lot to say to Ryan Gosling but I’m really banking on the fact that we will be making-out most of the time therefore rendering conversation unnecessary.

What do you think I should say to Ryan Gosling?

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This is my brain on a normal day: Beep bop boop beep. What’s for breakfast? What’s for lunch? What’s for dinner? Music, music, music. Marketing, marketing, marketing. I want a snack. Florence and the Machine. Kings of Leon. I wish my life was a musical comedy. Oh wait, my life is a musical comedy. Daydream, daydream, daydream. Blog, blog, blog. Awkward moment. I wish I had cotton candy. Awkward moment I need to remember to blog about later. Daydream about becoming a well-paid and successful author. Daydream about cotton candy clouds. Imaginary interviews. I want to go to London. I want a snack. Adele. Green tea. Gummy worms. Green tea. Gummi butterflies (yeah it’s a thing). Writing, writing, writing. Awkward moment. Hilarious joke I need to blog about. Jazz hands. Ryan Gosling daydream. Jazz hands.

This is my brain on a date: Sweet mother of Zeus, how did I get on a date? Is this a dream? This is awkward. Why is this so awkward? Am I making this awkward? I’m totally making this awkward. Should I hold his hand? Should he hold my hand? Do I let him pay? Do I offer to pay? I don’t want to pay. Do I have something in my teeth? Oh gross, what if I have something in my teeth? No way is this guy going to like me after this. Why did he ask me out? How did this happen? Ok. OK. Play it cool GotC. Play it cool. Cool boys *snap* *snap* real cool…….stop! This isn’t West Side Story. How great would it be if this was West Side Story?! Wait. Not great because then one of us would die. Oh man. Is he making a move? Nope. No move. Should I make a move? He’s so nice. Why is he so nice? Maybe he doesn’t think this is a date. Oh my heavens! What if he doesn’t think of this as a date? I made up the whole dating scenario in my head didn’t I? I totally did. So humiliated. Wait. He just paid for me. That’s a date, right? Why didn’t reading Goosebumps prepare me for this? C’mon R.L. give a girl some dating advice. Ha. I bet dating advice from R.L. Stine would be brilliant! Did he just compliment me? I don’t know, I was too busy wondering what kind of dating advice R.L. Stine would give. Umm……ok, just smile and nod. I’m an idiot. Smile and nod?! He probably thinks I’m a moron. Tell a joke. Stupid joke. Why did I say that joke? Tell him about your blog so he knows you’re hilarious. No wait! Stop! Don’t tell him about your blog. Abort. Abort. If he reads your blog he’ll know you’re completely mental. Whew. Dodged that bullet. But how to convince him I’m charming and funny? Think of something topical. Nope, too late. Moment has passed. He’s over it. This is a disaster. I’m a disaster. Where is the nearest closet to hide in?

Just say no kids. Just say no.

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I’m sure you’ve all heard about the book He’s Just Not That Into You. Or maybe you saw the movie. Or maybe you saw the Sex & The City episode where it all began. If you haven’t heard of the book, seen the movie, or watched the SATC episode, I need to first question your life choices. Next, I need to explain to you what this book is all about. Basically, HJNTIY (abbreviated because it’s annoyingly long and possibly poisonous) is a book written by a man and a woman about how most of the guys you like or are dating or are in a relationship with don’t really like you.

I read this book as soon as it was released. I watched the authors on Oprah. I was a believer. I was liberated by this book. It was like “Hey. It’s good to know up front that you don’t like me so I don’t waste any of my time fretting and shaving my legs. Don’t worry, you don’t have to say you don’t like me. This book already told me you don’t like me.”  And believe it or not, that felt kind of good. For quite some time, I wasn’t concerned with whether or not guys were interested in me because HJNTIY told me they weren’t. If a guy wasn’t calling, texting, making plans with, or making out with me then he just wasn’t that into me. If a guy initially called, texted, made plans with, and made out with me and then failed to do one of those things, even missed one day, it meant he may have been into me but was no longer into me anymore. And I believed that because HJNTIY was on Oprah and therefore the gospel truth. Imagine me wasting all those years thinking guys liked me! How foolish. How childish. Finally, I was freed from that silliness and could now move forward knowing that almost every guy I met/liked would not be into me.

Great. So it made me feel good, until it made me feel like crap. This book had me convinced that none of the guys I liked were into me. Even the ones who probably were. If a guy I was dating didn’t call, text, make plans with, or make out with me, even missed one day, I was over it. I bailed out faster that Wall Street (BOOM economic humor). I didn’t give them a chance because I decided that they didn’t like me. Why did I decide that? Because HJNTIY told me to. Also, there may have been an element of self-preservation in there but I’m really more comfortable blaming outside sources.

For years, this book poisoned my mind against guys and against myself. Even though the book tells you time and time again that you’re beautiful, desirable, and utterly fantabulous it follows up all of those comments by telling you the guy you like doesn’t like you back so…..kind of a mixed message there. Don’t get me wrong, I really do think the heart of this book is in the right place, I just think it would have been much better to say “Hey. Don’t date assholes.” although, that would have been a much shorter book and Oprah probably wouldn’t approve. And sure, yes, if a guy never calls and always bails on you, he is probably not that into you, but if he misses one day then maybe don’t pull out the fried chicken and ice cream just yet, he’s probably still into you. Maybe don’t freak out and preemptively dump him.

And believe me, I totally sympathize with the get out before you get hurt instinct, hell, I would say that’s been the overall theme of my dating history, but some guys are totally worth ignoring that instinct for and conversely some aren’t. I don’t know, use your best judgement not some over-generalized and slightly insulting books. And hey, don’t date assholes.

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So, I’m shopping with my friend Mary yesterday and one of the male salespeople walks up to me and then this happened. For real y’all.

Salesperson: Just so you know, everything in the store is 40% off. 

Me: Oh! Thanks!

Salesperson: And in case you were wondering, I’m 15% off or best offer. (winks at me)

Me: Well. Ok. Good to know? 

It’s pretty obvious that is one of the best pick-up lines of all time. Certainly not the most effective, but definitely awesome. As soon as he walked away, I walked over to Mary and was like “Yes! This guy just wrote a blog for me.”

And *that’s* why you go shopping.

So, yesterday I wrote about how a clown doll recently cursed me. Then, Paladin wrote me a story. I can’t even tell you how absolutely thrilled I was- it was everything and I have to say, incorporated a remarkable amount of references to previous blog posts. Thank you Paladin- this comment meant the world to me!

The girl lay in bed all snuggly and warm, pleasant thoughts of a turkey bacon and gummy worm breakfast dancing in her head. Silvery beams from a gibbous moon played through her bedroom window. The trees outside spread their winter bare arms and cast jagged shadows across the ceiling and walls of the little room.

Drowsiness began to overtake the Prettiest Pretty Princess, her long lashed eyelids getting heavier and heavier as she drifted closer to the night’s slumber. She was in the Borderlands now… that fabled place between the waking world and that of dreams. Not quite awake, and yet not fully wrapped in the arms of sleep’s oblivion. The shapes around her, painted in shades of grey and black shadow, began to soften and blurr as she drifted off ….

Except for the closet door.

“I closed that door before coming to bed,” she thought. “…Or did I?” Her sleepy mind could not recall, but the door was definitely open now.

What began as a low groan gathered in pitch into a creaking screech as the hinges swung the door slowly outward, revealing even blacker shadows within. The Pretty Princess scrunched herself further beneath the covers drawing them up above her nose so that just her eyes peered out as the dark gaping maw of the closet doorway widened noisily before her.

The screeching door mercifully stopped its travel, and silence returned to the dark bedroom with a palpable force. The quiet was so complete that it almost hurt her ears. She could see nothing within that inky blackness beyond the closet door, but she was overcome by the dread that something was indeed there… waiting and listening. She realized that she had been holding her breath. When she let it out with a whoosh it sounded dangerously loud in the small still space.

“Was that something moving?” she thought. Her heart began to thump faster within her breast as the shadow within shadows began to slowly emerge from the closet.

“Who… Who’s there?” she said, her shaky voice sounding odd and rough to her own ears.

The Shadow crept foward, coming ever closer. It began to edge stealthily into the moonbeam light mere inches from the Princess’ bed. It was a child’s toy clown… but not the kind of toy that had ever brought joy to a little girl or boy. No laughter had ever been born from the sight of this harlequin from hell. It’s feet shuffled along slowly, the long oafish shoes dragging softly along the carpet. It’s grotesque head seemed too large for its spindly neck as it wobbled too and fro. Arms lacking bone and muscle dangled and swung as it trundled closer to the bedside.

“I, am Mr. Tickle Limper,” came a sneering, scratchy voice. The hinged jaw of the sick clown clicked menacingly up and down as it spoke.

“Wha…. What do you want?” the Princess stammered.

“I smell gingerbread…. and I love’s to eat me some gingerbread…hehehe”.

The Pretty Princess lowered the sheets a bit and sat up straighter in bed.

“Gingerbread?…. GINGERBREAD??! Who the hell are you calling gingerbread, you freaky little dwarf?” she growled.

The Evil Mr. Tickle Limper stopped moving forward. His painted on expression did not change, but confusion and doubt was evident none the less.

“If you think you can just waltz in here and gobble me up, you’ve got another thing coming. How Very DARE YOU!” she exclaimed, rising further from the bed.

“Hey… hold on a minute now,” the evil clown stammered as it backed up a shuffling step.

“Don’t you ‘hold on’ me,” she replied as she reached beneath the covers.

The Prettiest Pretty Princess drew forth an object known far and wide to strike fear and loathing into the hearts of demonic creatures everywhere…. Mr. Tickle Limper drew back in terror as the Princess hefted the Four Story Miracle Condom Water Ballon in one perfectly manicured hand.

“Now, now… lets be reasonable,” Mr. Tickle Limper stuttered as he backed further away from the bed.

“Reasonable THIS”, she cried, throwing the mysteriously indestructable hydro-prophylactic missle. Her aim, like her heart, was true. Mr. Tickle Limper staggered backward into the dark closet, reeling from the impact. The closet door, silently this time, swung slowly closed.

The End

Seriously, you guys, I have the BEST readers in the world. Please know I adore y’all and every comment makes me smile. HEART. (I know this was a bit of a sappy post from me but I promise to get back to the ridiculousness next week.)

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So, I’m at the grocery store buying gummi-worms and apples (true story) and I’m feeling a little blue (as in sad, not as in Avatar) and I’m waiting in the check out line and there is this little kid waiting in line in front of me with his Mom. He turns around and give me a shy smile so I give him my best happy smile but not too happy because then he might think I’m one of the strangers that rhyme with danger. I guess my happy but not too happy smile was perfect because he lets go of his Mother’s hand, takes a step or two towards me and says “You’re prettier than a pretty pretty princess.”

And THAT is how you compliment a lady. Take note fellas.

screen shot 2011 10 05 at 9 56 57 pm There *is* a jump rope in this picture- but mostly, I just thought it was delightfully creepy.

So I was at the elementary school I volunteer at the other day and was witness to what I consider to be the most accurate future telling on the face of the planet, nay, Earth. It went something like this…

Ice cream sundae

Cherry on top

Who’s your boyfriend

Let’s find out

Then they started going through the alphabet while the person seeking the identity of their boyfriend jumped rope. Whatever letter was the last to be called out before they got caught up in the rope was the first letter of their future boyfriends name. It was nothing short of magic. I mean, I know children are our future but did you know children can tell our future??? They’re amazing!

Think about it. If more adults would just go to the playground and take part in this jump roping miracle they could cut through all the bull of dating and such. It would be like “Oh, your name is Bill? Sorry, my boyfriend’s name starts with X.” Like, you would know that Bill wasn’t right for you straight away. That would save SO much time!!! Also, how exciting to guess at what the initial stood for. I mean, say you landed on P. It could be Peter, or Paul, or Procopius, or Pavel, or Promethius. The possibilities are endless! Well, not exactly endless– but there would be a lot of possibilities.

Next week, I fully intend on having the first initial of my future boyfriend. I suggest all you other single ladies go to the nearest park or elementary school and jump rope with the kiddos so they can tell you your future. Just, try not to make it creepy.

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