Oh how I have been here!

So I’ve been pretty quiet this past year. I can’t believe Amber hasn’t had a reason to let me out in almost a year. Mmmm that’s not true. Amber has had plenty to gripe about. But for me to put it out in the blogsphere would get her in a lot of trouble.

But I think that particular animated situation is getting better so now I can come back out and do what i love doing, B*TCHING! Tee hee!

And tonight as Amber was watching Cold Case (a pretty snappy detective show that takes place in Philly! 2 thumbs up!) she caught this commercial for Lysol’s newest product, Lysol No-Touch Hand Soap System. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AqchsFwhSNQ According to the spokesperson, the top of your hand soap dispenser has a ton of germs on it. Shocker, it the last thing your grubby little mitts touch before washing them. So Lysol’s solution for avoiding those extra germs is to have this hands free soap dispenser. But here’s what I don’t get, aren’t you going to wash those germs off anyway? And if you are using a Lysol product to clean your hands, shouldn’t it be 99.9% effective in killing germs like their other ads boast? I’m just saying, this along with the ipad are starting this new decade of wrong as far as new products are concerned. (I know one has nothing to do with the other, but I missed the boat to b*tch about the ipad. Deal with it.) It just pisses me off when companies insult the intelligence of this country with stupid products. I mean I’m a huge Apple fan… I’m sorry Amber and I are huge fans. But seriously, it’s a big iphone/ipod with a bad, bad name. (Snicker, itampon… ha!) I’m just saying, the new product development teams in these companies need to check their old college text books and think about some of the key learnings from their marketing classes. Offer products that people need, not crap that is a reinvention of some other stuff that people haven’t grown tired off. I mean really. And then I just looked at the site again, not only is this thing probably going to retail at a double digit price point, which is just silly (it’s soap, people) but it requires batteries. I’m down with my battery powered toothbrush cause I think it does make a difference. However if the batteries die, I’m pretty sure I can still brush my teeth. But oh no World, what will we do when we can’t get clean hands from our hand soap system b/c the batteries died? Guess it’s back to the pump dispenser. 

Grrr… I hate stupid products…

Except for the Snuggie…

I like that. Amber likes it. It’s only stupid if you buy one for a dog. (Most dogs will not sit still long enough to even put it on, plus most dogs have fur hence no need for a blanket with sleeves.)

Nevertheless, that’s one sill product that I’ll let slide. I bet all the people on the East Coast would like a Snuggie right now. Mmm hmmm!

OMG people, what have we been reduced to in dating society? Last night I joined the rest of the world and watched the finale of the Bachelor. Let me start with this, I hate, hate what this show has become. Does anyone else realize the confusing message we’re sending to the opposite sex? Think about it. We;re giving the okay to one dude or chic to go out and have a ball of fun with 25 different folks and don’t worry if anyone gets hurt, we’ll just write them off into oblivion when he or she hops int he limo and we never hear from them again. Unless it happens like the “historic” bachelor ending that took place last night. NOW WAIT! I have a real problem acting like history was made ina significant way because some dude changed his mind about a girl. News-flash, that happens every dang day. I mean really people? And why on earth are we giving the okay for all of this? You know my girl Barbie is about to turn 50. Apparently some mayor or something in WV or somewhere wants to put a stop to this and ban Barbie because she’s an unrealistic influence. I say FALSE. (This is a London Tangent right now. Deal with it) Barbie, is awesome. THink about it, she juggles how many hats? (Literally and figuratively) My Barbie growing up was an astronaut, a Jungle explorer and a Business Woman. These were the official titles. I then of course made up really cool jobs for her like, Concert Promoter, B&B owner, TV Star… You name it, she was it. I was inspired by the diva in pink to get that shiny car, big house, personal wardrobe and attempt to look fabulous while doing all of that. Now I ask wat’s wrong with that? How is that a terrible role model? Hmmm… NO what we need to do is protect our young from false situations like Jason and the rest of the Bachelor/Bachelorette family. (See back on focus) Think about it. They take these women for 2 months and lock them up and tell them to do nothing but fall in love with this dude. I mean isn’t it possible that some of these chicks just aren’t into him. And now they HAVE to be. On top of the fact that I think it’s more realistic for me to aspire to be like Barbie in terms of having multiple careers and luxury items than it is to find true love with 1 dude while he’s making out with 24 other chics. I mean why are we sobbing along with these women, when in reality you and I both know you would not tolerate this kind of behavior from someone you were ACTUALLY seeing. I can tell you this, if Amber was seeing a guy and found out he was seeing 24 other women and treated us all the same, I’m pretty damn sure we’d both be pissed. NOW I will say this, there’s a difference between casual dating and then dating to fall in love. I can’t wrap my split personality brain around the idea that ot’s cool for one dude to have 25 women work to fall in love with him, while he sits back the king of Siam and sucks it all up. Oh yeah he turns it on for the cameras. “OMG, this is the hardest decision of my life.” REALLY DUDE? Like I said to my roommate tonight, why don’t we pull one of those shining stars from the Iraq war over here and ask him is he thinks this is the hardest thing ever. Or lets not even take it up to that level. Let’s think about every day life. How about trying to figure out how to care for a love done who is dying and left no instructions about how he or she should be cared for on life support. THAT’s A HARD DECISION. Giving a kidney to your husband or child, THAT’s A HARD DECISION. Deciding if you want to “spend the rest of your life” with a chic you’ve known for 2 months to make America happy, mmmm not sounding the alrams in my head as far a s TOUGH decisions. Dude, why doesn’t he just decide, “Hey Molly, I dig ya. Let’s see if this will work.” As opposed to “Baby, it’s been 2 months but you the one. I know I made out with 24 other women, but this was the hardest decision EVA and now I need to promise you the sun, moon, start, milky way because this just makes so much sense to me.” Get the heck out of here. Ugh! Sometimes I wonder where our priorities are in society. What happened to the Cosby Show, or even Full House? Hmmm… Now it’s all about Jason, his kid and 24 year old child bride. Ick! I think I’m gonna help Amber get sick.!

OMG! So Amber finally decided to bite the bullet and sign up for online dating. That’s right. Look life is too busy for us to focus. Plus someone said something very wise to her the other day. Some musician said this about dating, “If you shop at a garbage dump, you’ll bring home trash.” Hmmm, profound isn’t it? So Amber decided to try a different “site” if you will, and give this online dating thing a try. Amber and her roommate laugh because Amber thinks of the site as a bag of gumballs. You can pick which kind you want. It’s quite humorous. So she had my first match date. It was more of a “meeting” if you will. So we chatted with the gentleman. Half way through the “date” I realized, A) this will be a great site to make friends, B) didn’t Amber make fun of the people at Starbucks for this? and C) our nose was about to bleed. That’s right people, Amber’s friggin little nose had to go all insane and become the center of attention. So there we are in the bathroom talking to ourselves, pleading that this nose bleed would stop. Uhhhh, 15 minutes later, it did. How embarrassed was Amber? But it couldn’t have been that bad, because the nice gentleman is going to take Amber to the airport on Monday. So all in all it wasn’t that bad. But really, in our minds, it was about as bad as bad could get. 

Till the next one, which I’m sure will be quite the adventure too,

~L

So I have a quick complaint. It’s about the commentary on the elections. So today I’m watching CNN. Shocker, I know. And they were talking about some of the polling stations that were open crazy early. Apparently the law in NH is if you have less than 100 people in your town you can poll as early as you want. (I didn’t know there were places like that still in the Northeast, but okay) So this one little town had something like 17 people registered to vote. Obama (the man) got 7 votes and won that station. Now don’t get me wrong, a win is a win. But John Roberts (the worse CNN anchor in the world) had the nerve to ask another political pundit if this was an indicator of how the primaries would turn out for the entire state. Dude it was a town of less than 100 in a state with 17 registered voters. Are you serious? Sometimes I think we try to look toooooo much into the things. Like really, commentators are claiming Obama will have the black vote and Hillary will have the female vote. Wow! Well what the hell happens if you happen to be a BLACK WOMAN! Well I guess me and my sissy are damned huh? I mean really, how presumptuous for people to assume that one will vote simply due to attributes and not issues. I don’t think Hillary can represent me because she’s a woman any better than Obama can cause he’s black! But this started a convo about what I identify more with, being black or being a woman. Do I really have to choose? I mean I don’t think I can separate the 2. The experiences I’ve had are based on my as both, not one or the other. Even if you don’t like me cause I’m a woman you still can’t ignore that I’m black and vice versa. I had an interesting conversation with a friend the other night about this country seeing in color and what that’s not a bad thing. I’ve had time to consider his perspective. I don’t’ think there’s anything wrong with seeing me as both, because you can’t see me as clear or without gender. So see it all and work with it. So who will get my vote? Well duh, the black guy! Ha JK! Obama will but ironically because I think he transcends race. Now isn’t that a cluster*ck of a comment given my statements above. I can see how it’s okay to see in color, but I think it’s even more powerful when we can see past it. I think Obama allows us to do that and see the issues. Yes, he’s a black man but he can do more than what some of us my ignorantly limit him for in terms of his capabilities because of his race. I’m not writing this to convince anyone to vote one way over the other, but the truth is I think this man has the ability to reach past color exclusivity and make real change regardless of the limitations we place on ourselves due to physical attributes.

Okay it’s really time to go to bed!

So Amber needs a bit of a break. So I’m here. Okay the truth is, I have been itching to write and I told Amber to chill. Anywhoo, the short story below is my attempt at storytelling. Both of us dedicate this to our dear friend, Sweet Chandra! (We know you’ll get it) ( =

Once upon a time there was a mouse who didn’t know she was a mouse. See she was raised by mice, very, very strong mice. And this mouse looked like a mouse, dressed like a mouse and did everything a mouse did. But she did it thinking she was a cat. She had a real meow-meow mentality. She saw herself as being bigger than what she actually was. It made no sense. She went to an all mouse school and had plenty of mouse friends. But no matter what she always gravitated to the kitties. He approach to life was like a cat’s. She carried herself like a hunter. She would pounce just at the right moment to taste victory after victory. She was easily distracted like most cats. All it took was for some other animal to wave any piece of string in front of her and she completely forgot her task at hand. Now in her mind, the mouse thought she was living to good life. The cats after all, were respected and seen as mystical creatures. They seemed to always have a devilish sense of pleasure and satisfaction in their smiles. They way they purred was intoxicating to the little mouse and she acted as if she were the same.

One day when the mouse was our playing with her feline counterparts, a group of mice passed by. “Hey Mouse!” One of the tiny critters called out from the pack. 

Throwing the ball of string she was sharing with her kitty friend, she call out, “Yes.” 

“Come here, Mouse.” He beckoned.

The mouse arched her back and stretched like she had seen her kitty friends do so many time. As she was in mid arch, she heard her own kind snicker loudly. She overheard one whisper, “Tee, hee. Mouse is a trip. I don’t even think she knows how to be a mouse.” 

“I know.” Another one replied. “It’s probably tail envy.” The snickered.

“Hey Mouse. I have a question for you.” The mouse who called out originally began to stand tall as he eyed Mouse up an down.

“Yes.”

“You do know you’re not…  a cat? Don’t you realize they do the chasing and we do the running? I mean it’s not like we live in a world where we HAVE to be afraid of the cats, but still it’s their job to chase us. So why do you chase after them?” He asked with genuine concern.

“What are you talking about? I never chase them. When have you ever seen me run after a cat? We’re just cool. I like doing what they do.” Mouse answered quickly.

“No, no dear. You don’t get it. You chase them in your attempt to be like them. You want them to like you so much that you don’t’ even know that you’re the running after them all the time. Have you ever taken a minute and let them come after you? Have you ever let them try to figure out why you’re so cool as a MOUSE?”

“They like me for who I am. They don’t need to chase me, cause I’m right there for them to chill with me as I am. I don’t need to play games with the cats”

“Hey Einstein. They’re cats! They like to play games and to chase us. You’re being silly, Mouse. Maybe you should see what happens when you stop acting like a cat, and just try being who you are: A mouse who can play with cats, but a mouse that cats want to play with.”

Mouse just sat back and blinked. She looked over at her feline friends who looked like they wanted to play a game with the mice. Then she looked at the mice in the crew. They seemed so much happier that she felt. 

Mouse called out to her friends with the yarn and said she would catch up with them later. She scurried back to her hole and took a seat in her little matchbox. After pulling out a sweet piece of Brie, she began to cry. Something the big mouse said struck her. “Am I really a mouse, that cats would want to play with? Or do they only play with me because I try to act like them?”

Poor Mouse cried all night, never enjoying her piece of Brie.

The next morning, Mouse chose not to play with her friends. Instead she called her sister and told her she was taking some time for herself. If anyone needed her she would be at home the next few days.

Over the next week, Mouse read every copy of MQ (Marsupial Quarterly), caught up on her soap, General Veterinarian’s Hospital, and taught herself how to do some of the latest dances by watching videos on CTV (Critter TV). But Mouse didn’t feel any better. She was still confused. She knew she was a mouse, but the mouse from the other day was right. She was a chaser like the cats. But she had no clue how to be mouse. She had been like a cat for so long she didn’t know anything else. 

But Mouse decided in that moment that she was done being a cat. After all, it had been a week and not one of her fine whiskered friends had called looking for her. They were all off chasing the mice; having a good time. 

A few more weeks passed, when Mouse decided she was ready. She had taken almost a month to really get into herself. Mouse learned that Parmesan cheese tasted better than catnip. She learned that cats had a greater chance of becoming overweight than mice since they couldn’t fit on that little wheel or stay focused enough to run for hours on end. She learned that she was not afraid of running up a tree and had the ability to get down without help from the Giraffes from the fire department unlike cats. 

Basically, she learned how to function as a mouse but also how to enjoy the life of cat while staying true to herself. 

One day Mouse was reading her autographed copy of “Stuart Little” when she heard a knock at the door. Mouse got up and was shocked to find her friend Morris the cat at the door.

“Hey Mouse. Where have you been? I’ve been look for you to come out and play! What’s going on in there? Is that a Gouda soufflé I smell?” Morris got down low and peered in Mouse’s house.

“Back up Morris. It is a soufflé and it’s for me. I’m taking a cooking class on cheeses from around the world.”

“Purrrrr. Come one Mouse. Stop being mean. I want some.” And with that Morris popped his paw into Mouse’s house swatting playfully at his little chef like friend.

Mouse ran around the house, ducking from Morris’ playful mitt. As she kept giggling and  bobbing up and down, she thought to herself, “Good thing I’ve been working out on the wheel this month. I would never have lasted this long against. Morris.” With that she smiled as she hid under her thimble footstool trying to avoid Morris’ paw. Mouse gave one of many chases that afternoon and shared one of her sweetest soufflés with her friend.

The End 

Okay so Amber has been busy! She’s been blogging, and getting surgery and traveling and stuff! Meanwhile she’s been keeping me cooped up and happy on Percs. Well I’m breaking lose here. I need to gripe, BIG TIME! So we’ve been watching this show called The Pick Up Artist on VH1. I’m sure y’all are familiar with it. Pretty much it’s this dude “Mystery” who’s teaching 8 dorks how to be players. Okay fine. In watching this show I’m realizing that there are actual guys trying to be  a “Master Pick Up Artist” and it’s so damn obvious. Like the other week I was out with my girls and I’m at this swanky hotel penthouse party! Tres chic! So I imagined that there’s a certain level of “dude’ at this party. I kid you not I was approached by this Sesame street puppet named Steve. He proceeded to tell me that I should be his body guard. I’m like “Excuse me.” He’s like, “You’re walking around with your arms crossed like you’re Mr. T or something. You’re gonna be my body guard.” (Note, Amber had her arms crossed cause she didn’t have a drink in her hands nor pockets to put them in. They just naturally fell there. She wasn’t trying to be defensive as this guy assumed) So Steve-O as my friends and I so affectionately call him now, went on and on for about 10 minutes about me needing to be his body guard and looking defensive and ready to rumble. (I know 9.5 minutes too long.) Well one of us noticed he had a ring on his left hand. So I figured it was time to bounce. Well Steve-O didn’t see it that way. He’s like “I’m not married. Really, I’m not.” Well at this point I didn’t care. Well in true jackass form he pulls on my hair to keep me from walking away. Now here’s where I lost it. After politely putting him in his place and with the rescue of my friends I left the Asshole Pick Up Artist to paint some sad picture of his unsuccessful night.

Look here’s the deal. I’m sure he had that “ring” on as back-up in case he picked up the wrong chick. (Eventually I saw it wasn’t a real wedding band, just some costume crap he had on.) Now I’m not gonna hate on him 100%. Only 80%; once upon a time I had a ‘shopping” ring too. (Before I grew up) However, I am going to hate on my single people who are in my dating pool who play games similar to this. I feel like in this post 25 – 30ish unmarried age, we’ve gone from College hook-ups and sweet hearts to game playing wannabe pick-up artists. People ask yourself, how many times do you get a text from someone you like, but you wait like 5 to 10 minutes before responding so you “don’t seems too interested?” Or waiting till the last possible minute to set up a date so you don’t seem desperate? I mean we all know “the rules”, but come on. Maybe it’s just me but Amber and I don’t have the time or the lifestyle to play games. I’m not trying to communicate that with every first date you should make wedding plans, but dude if you’re into someone, THEN BE INTO THEM! Stop the game playing. Stop trying to make people jealous. Stop the mind-f*cking! Stop the texting for the love of God. Stop worrying if you’re calling too much. Stop trying to hook-up every ten seconds b/c you’re in denial that you like ONE person. I mean just go ahead and put it out there if you’re into a guy or a girl! 

A very wise sensei put it to me very recently in the sunshine state: “You don’t need anymore friends. If he can’t get it right then keep it moving.” And that’s the lesson here people. I’m not complaining about dating at all. I’m quite content. (That could be because Amber is on those damn Percs. Hmmmm…) I’m just voicing my opinion about some personal and not so personal observations I’ve been making. All I’m saying to all the game-players out there, get off your friggin Play Stations, and X-Boxes and realize you can’t hit pause and toggle the joystick in real life relationships. Eventually you’re gonna have to step out of the world of Halo 3 and into reality because people simply don’t have the time to deal with it. So for all of the self declared Pick-Up Artist out there, why don’t you paint a picture of my butt and kiss it. In other words if you aren’t about something then get out of my way, cause I am!

Kisses Kitties!