Fourth of July—Amateur Day for Explosives.

My least favorite holiday is, without a doubt, the 4th of July.

No—not because I’m unpatriotic. I’m all kinds of patriotic. I freaking bleed red white and blue. Okay, just red. But it’s one of the colors so bite me if you don't belive me.

I hate the 4th because somewhere along the way, the day that is supposed to celebrate our freedom turned into amateur night with explosives. Much like New years is amateur night for drinkers and Valentines is amateur night for romance. But I digress…

Don't get me wrong, I like fireworks. I like PLANNED fireworks. Lights Music. A pretty. A great fireworks show is a thing of beauty!.

Face it, the fireworks that continue until 3AM are not planned. There is no music. No lights. Just explosions. And most people (myself included) should not be allowed to play with anything that can blow their hands off. Face it, add a few beers and they think their skin is freaking steel. It’s not. Nope. Every July 5th, you read about some moron who managed to blow his hand off. My guess is the last words prior to such idiocy is something like:

1) Watch this. It’ll be cool
2) I don't think it's lit
3) Let me hold it

And then…bang. To quote Armageddon (an end of the world by asteroid with questionable acting but loads of fun so I like it) "Your wife's gonna be opening your ketchup bottles the rest of your life.

Hurry! Offer for Soulmate Expires Soon!

I got an email from Matchmaker.com today that touted the subject line, “Hurry, or your soulmate my disappear!’.

Seriously, a scare tactic is the best their marketing tool they can come up with? That stupid subject line is supposed to propel me to the site where my soulmates wait for me and no one else.

Puh-lease.

First: I am not that easily frightened. Especially from one of the myriad of online dating sites that populates the internet. If you really want to terrify me, tell me that you have a man for me. He is rich. Tall. Dark. Handsome. And wants to support me in a way that I’d like to become accustomed too and that if I don’t email him you will tell my MOM!

Now that might get my attention.

Second: I don’t believe in soulmates. If there is only one person for everyone, then most of us are screwed. What if he met someone else first? What if my soulmate was killed in a wreck? What if he’s only five feet tall (I know. Shallow! But I really do like my men to be taller than me). So where does that leave me? Soulmateless and hopeless?

Bite me, Matchmaker! No more profiles for you!

Do you know what I believe? I believe in TIMING. You can meet the most perfect man in the world and if he just got dumped and wants to play the field and you are ready for a relationship, then there is NOTHING that will help you. You cannot change his mind. Cannot convince him to care more than he is ready for. The timing is off.


Soulmate my ass.

Want to Know More?

They like me. They really really like me!
Or they're just scared. Either way, there's an interview. Enjoy!

When His Pants Burn (liar liar!)

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been dating via the Internet for a while now. I’ve met some nice men. Not so nice men. Etc. But the ones that fascinate me are the lying liars who lie.

I met one man at match.com—the internet equivalent to clubbing but that’s a whole nother’ story. We agree to meet in downtown DC. He’s shorter than he said but that’s typical. Many women knock ten pounds off their weight in their profiles and most men add two inches. So that wasn’t a big deal. He seemed nice enough so we go to a bar to have a drink and chat.

Check the following conversation.
Him:“Do you smoke?”
Me:(after I pick my jaw off the floor) “No! Do you?”
Him: “Uh, yes. But everyone lies about that in their profile.”
Me: “No they don’t!” My voice get’s higher here. Now ‘only dog’s can hear it' high but it went up an octave
Him-laughing: “Well, that’s the worst lie I told.”
Me. I hesitate. Pick up my jaw again: "You mean there’s more?”
No answer
Me: “Well, as long as you’re divorced.”
Loooooonnnnnnnggg silence
Me: “You’re not divorced yet, are you?”
Him: “No, But I’ve been separated for a really long time.”
Oh. My. God. What a trainwreck! At this point, I have a choice. I can storm off in an indignant but righteous huff or...I can make him pay. Hmmm. What to do what to do...
He is so buying me dinner.
Me: “Let’s just have dinner and we’ll see what’s what.”

I order everything and while I don’t pay in money, I do pay. He spends the entire meal staring at my breasts. What an asshat.

Dinner ends (thank God!). He walks me to my car.
Him: "Would you like to come back to my boat?" The oogling told me what he really wanted.
Me staring in disbelief. “I am not having sex with you. Ever.”
Him: "It wouldn’t be sex. It would be making love.”
Seriously. He said that. Do I look new?
Me: “Does that line work. Ever?”
I turned and left him standing on the sidewalk.

Lesson learned? I can only hope so but I doubt it. Next!

Still Hot!

I was an archaeologist once upon a time, and I know that part of the decision to become one was because of Indiana Jones. Smart. Savvy. And H.O.T. even when he was at his grubby best. Any man that does what is right--no matter what--has huge appeal.

To this day, the sight of a man in a fedora and the sound of a whip is uber-sexy.

May 22--Indy returns!

Voice Mail Jail

You only have to read my Adventure in Tech Support to know how much I LOATHE Voice Mail Jail. You know--pushing prompt after prompt after prompt until you either reach a person or snap. I used to push zero repeatedly until I got somewhere, but companies have figured it out and now some simply send you back to the main menu. Bastards!!

Well, someone finally decided to do something about it and their name is GetHuman. They have a webpage with companies listed and what you need to push to get to a real, live person:

http://gethuman.com/

Enjoy!

The Votes Are In!

MUCH thanks to all who entered. It’s good to know there are people out there who give an idiot the 'verbal smackdown’ when needed. None of that, ‘I have the burning need to be nice even to those who don’t deserve it’ crap. Hell, I’d think twice about messing with you all! The replies were cutting, witty and in a number of cases, drew blood.

But when all was said and done, there can be only one.

And the best retort to someone who makes a rude, uncalled for and ignorant comment about reading romance is:

I guess the cereal box takes too long to finish. By, Writer and Cat


Also known as MeanKitty!


Which, if you look at her site, isn’t a ginormous shock. She kinda specializes in being snarky and evil. Oh, how I luvs the snarky and evil, my pressccioussss….


Jody! You’re getting a t-shirt. Or your cat is. Not sure.... if it’s the cat, send pictures.