Cream Colored Ponies & Crisp Apple Streudels

I want to share some online dating stories with you, as my time with match.com is coming a close. Hmm. I must say it's been an interesting experience.

Let's start off with my profile.


This section is entitled, "About me and who I'm looking for":


I'm fun! Friends tell me I'm jolly (no, not like Santa, I won't stuff your socks with M&Ms and candy canes), that I'm a great conversationalist, an excellent singer (let's karaoke... if we happen to hit it off virtually, then hang out, and stumble drunkenly past a rowdy song-singing crowd in a bar -- you can't really plan some things), and ya know, my mom says I have a pretty smile.

I enjoy running and being active, next big race is Chicago Marathon 2008. Just moved back to the big city [in March], and I'd like a fun guy to do some more explorin'/dancin' with.

I love things that make me happy, and these include, but are not limited to: music (in the genre of awesomeness), family, friends, museums, sunshine, funny homeless people, hats, eye patches, soft beards, monkeys throwing feces, botanical gardens, lakefronts, picnic tables, ridiculously fast walks turning into runs in order to catch that crazy CTA, reading McSweeney's online, or wasting hours upon hours on craigslist, holding hands - with or without the sweaty palms, depends on other things, laughing - wow, I love laughin' and could laugh until forever.

I'm pretty awesome, did I already say that? I am. Occasionally I judge people, but only in a hilarious manner, not hurtful - life is hard enough as it is. I can't believe I'm doing this right now. Did I say that? And, for the record, I'm not speaking as I'm typing, I'm using "did I say" in the figurative sense, I guess.

Do you love games - of all kinds? Backgammon, mancala, Cranium, and so on.

I tend to ramble, occasionally. Amelie is a fav movie of mine; do you like subtitles, or are you willing to try? Enjoying LOST is a semi-must, it's fun... And music, anything from Miles Davis to LCD Soundsystem to Devendra Banhart to Billy Joel and Janis Joplin, MGMT to Foo Fighters, The Beatles, Buddy Holly, Wilson Pickett, The Black Keys, Arcade Fire...

I'm going to Rothbury this summer, and I'm going to make Snoop Dogg my best friend. True story.

On a you note, you should be awesome, as well. I have slightly high standards and I don't want no dorkus. Number one, there's no need to rush things. Maybe in meeting we could just pick a general area and then happen upon each other in the street, "Oh! Hey you. Didn't expect to see you here." And we could go from there. I'm still semi-kicking myself for jumping into the online dating pool. Fact: I was drunk and feeling lonely when I signed up, but now it seems like a lot of work, too, and I kind of want to go back to the old fashioned way but I'm here for another two months with that contract. Last time I bought something online when I was intoxicated, Taxi - seasons 1-3, it turned out to be a great thing and an entertaining summer, indeed. I thought this would be, too. Hmm. Just throwing that out there for you. Just so you know, ya know?

If you have a dog that might seal the deal for me. If you're artsy and you wear cool glasses, and you like reading Savage Love over eggs and coffee, that, too, might seal the deal. If you like going to concerts/festivals and plays, have never been to the opera but are interested in checking that out, and own a bicycle, do send me a wink or a message. Let's get this ball a rolling.


This sidebar area is called, "In my own words" (each is limited to 250 characters):

First section,
for fun:

I like havin' a good time, y'know? Dancin' down the street like a dingledoodie, playin' my blue guitar, or attemptin' (whatev you wanna call it). Watchin' the show Taxi, on DVD. Running.

Second,
my job:
Finding a use for my Writing for Performance degree, with a minor in Sociology... not all businesses are jumping at the chance to hire me. Damn you and your disillusions, American Dream! I shake my fist at you! For now, I gots myself a temping gig.

Third,
my ethnicity:
My family is from Nebraska, but before that, Europe. My father's ancestors have a museum dedicated to them, being Germans from Russia and all. Also, Swedish, Irish, Scottish, English... I'm a American-European mutt.

Fourth,
my religion:
We are here to help each other get through this thing, whatever it is.

Fifth,
my education:
In a few years (after I pay off my undergrad loans) I'd like to go back to get an MFA in writing of some sort.

Sixth,
favorite hot spots:
I love this city, and pretty much everything about it. Cheap 'n good eats that serve alcohol are among my favs. New York City is phenomenal, and one day I will live there when I'm a bazillionaire. America is grand, in general. I love road trips.

Seventh,
favorite things:
I love running, blading and biking by the lake, or I guess I could walk, too. If Ann Sather were still alive I would've stolen her and locked her in my basement years ago, so I could have fresh cinnamon rolls and eggs benedict every morning. Yum!

Eighth to end it,
last read:
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was one, and also The Bell Jar. I enjoy Dave Eggers and Sedaris, whoaeewow. Vonnegut, my hero, I cried when he died, first celebrity mourning of my life. Tom Wolfe. J Kerouac. Considering dropping Dostoevsky for fun.


And that's me, or so I tell the internet folks. No, no, no. I think it's pretty true to form. And in my pictures I'm wearing facial hair (drawn or strung on), hats, eye patches, Halloween costumes, and playing guitar on stage.


Story: when I rewrote to what you just read above, I had to call the customer service because the online system was saying there was something wrong with my content and that it couldn't be published. I was talking to the lady, and I said, "I just don't know what I did wrong. I didn't curse or give directions to my home." And so she said she would read it. I sat on the phone and listened to her breathing, and occasionally there would be a giggle - it was a little awkward, I almost wished she would've put me on hold. After she finished she said, "I don't see nothing wrong with it, and I thought it was very entertaining!" Then she told me that she approved it and wished me luck. Kind lady.


'Nother one. This is probably something I shouldn't be doing, as it was personal info... but it was personal to me, and apparently I know no boundaries, and this made my stomach growl from laughing so much (esp. the last line):

"I absolutely loved, loved your profile... I was cracking up crazy reading your profile and boy, your pictures with beard and moustache and funny faces, oh my stomach hurts. Did you hear that growl in my stomach, it really hurts laughing this hard.

You are really good in writing funny and you probably should write screenplays for comedy movies..." It went on, but that's not pertinent information to this conversation, er, um, post. Comedy movie writer, another goal of mine! It is, really. Maybe I'm delusional, but I like to think I have a smidgen of skill that I think I could build upon with the proper education and training.


Last one, and then I'm done.

Can we say, awkward?:

"not sure we have a lot in common, but i will say i loved your profile " and that was it. So, um. Thanks?


Wow. Maybe one day I'll write a short story about my experience. Or incorporate online dating into a play, or sketch, or something genius. Memories... light the corners of my mind... misty watercolor memoooooories...

I will say that I met some great guys, though most didn't work. I think I'm too awkward in first encounters, especially in meeting under pressure. I get really nervous. I shake. I sweat. I drink too much to calm myself. I say incredibly stupid things that as soon as they leave my mouth I want to grab them out of the air and push them back in before they hit his ears. Darn! Also, like I've mentioned before, I'm incredibly busy and important and I'm always doing things, and when I'm not doing things (which is rare) I don't want to be doing things and I sit, or sleep, or practice my guitar, or write. Plus, I consider myself semi-decent with relationships (family, friends, 'cause there has not been long-term romance in my life for a loooooooooooooooong time), not good, not bad, but decent-ish... swaying into the bad because sometimes I don't return phone calls for days. And I just don't know how I feel about letting more people into my life and having to make time for them because I barely have enough time for myself and my loved ones already in my circle... maybe if I could find a really incredible guy that doesn't do much... eh, but then he'd probably just be boring. LIFE!

I'm just going to start walking around with books in my hand, looking at the ground and hope that someone perfect knocks me down and helps me back up. We'll bank on that for about a month.

And y'know, I don't mind being single, but then sometimes it really sucks. Like those days that the happiest couples in the world find out where you're going to be, and then they stand in your way, holding hands and making plans for buying dogs and renting space together. So when that happens I walk past them and imagine myself knocking the girl down, swooping in on the guy with a dip-kiss or just humping his leg, then pushing him down too and sprinting away. It makes me happy for about 3 minutes.

I need to get back to work, but don't worry! I was really productive this morning and I'm sure I'll post about my boat trip or Jersey Boys (and yesterday in general) later this afternoon. Gotta get numbers in (on the blog - do I really have a blog?! That's weird. Sometimes I just do things without thinking. My Mom tells me this is a problem I've had since I was a baby. I need to see for myself, yes?) because I'll be gone until Monday, dance, dance, dancin'!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOO!

Also, my headline is, "I'd like to marry all of my close friends and live in a big house together by an angry sea." Duh. Of Montreal. Duh. I'm seeing them on Saturday? DUH! I'M SO EXCITED!!!

I'm a little disturbed...

My, my, my. I don't even know where to start. I've been feeling lonely lately, in the romantic sense. Seeing as how it's been since the beginning of October, since anything, anything has happened. Oh, wait. Excuse me. There was one night, maybe in January... where a 19 year-old was hitting on me at the Blue Fugue, in CoMO, but I'm pretty sure he was shwasted, he got my number and tried to "walk" me home, but I had a bike, and that resulted in him running along side/chasing me for a while, until I pulled over and said, "Hey, seriously. Stop." after jokingly saying, "Oh no, no, no, no." And then he text messaged me about dinner, ooooooh. No. Oh yeah, and I gave him a bird peck kiss, cause he asked... sometimes I do stupid things because I don't want to hurt people's feelings, but that was dumb. Anyway, what I was getting at - the loneliness. Tonight, in my cab, on the way home from work, I was just thinking how nice it would be to go to sleep with a guy next to me, instead of cradling my teddy bear, "Pandy" (he's a panda, I was an original child), and to have someone to love and hug all the time, and do things with, like take walks and hold hands... And thinking all these thoughts made me get a frowny face, and I tried to tell myself that I'm fabulous and I'm doing all these wonderful things with my life, things that I might not've done if I had a boyfriend right now... like moving to Chicago, and being a fabulous single city girl. Whatever! I don't know where I was going with that, but it also made me think about how no guy has ever asked me out, ever! Ever! Never. Ever. And that made me sad. I've always asked guys out on dates. Always me, never them. And that fact blows my balls (if I had them, which I don't, and if I did, that would explain them not asking me out). My mom always says, "The boys are intimidated by your beauty." And I say, "Stop being a lying liar, Mom. You're just saying that because you're my mom." And she is. The only guys that hit on me are homeless men, and they just want my money; old men, and they just want my youth; or drunk men, and they don't know what's going on. If anything, the boys are intimidated by my outrageous awkwardness, or something... I don't know.

But anyway, I don't mean to be a whiny baby. I've decided to wait maybe a couple more days, weeks, months... and then, I'm going to start buying cats, and more cats, and then maybe some dogs, that way something will love me - and I'll turn into the crazy spinster lady on the block, kids running by my house, screaming. It might be fun. Wait. No, I didn't even plan on blogging tonight. Blogging. What is that? What's the point of this. It's like a journal, but it's not, because I'm saying, "Hey. Everybody come read my personal thoughts." Blogging's kinda sexy/voyeuristic in that sense. Hot!

Okay, so I come home, through the front door (as usual, duh), and as I'm passing through the living area, towards the kitchen, and further beyond, my room, my roommate, Filthy pops out of his room. Oh. Man. He's drunk, hits against the door jam, and slurs, "Hey! You wanna drink?" Which I reply, "Sure!" and then he slurs, "Yeah, let's drink!" And he stumbles into his mess of a room, and gets me a Milwaukee's Best (yum! - sarcasm). I don't enter his room, A) b/c it's filthy, and 2) because on the outside of his door, he's tacked all these awful things about himself, like, "Filthy, you're a waste of a soul" and "Life is one big circle jerk" and "Failure" and "Obsolete" and a picture of a pretty girl, and an arrow to it that says, "You'll never have this, don't even try" and all the horrible things, and I can't help but feel bad for him. What's happened to this man? He ruefully says he's celebrating. "Celebrating what, Filthy?" I say. "The fact that I haven't touched a woman in 15 months." And I thought I was lonely! And he goes on to say awful things about himself, and I contradict him, telling him he's a great guy, and smart and funny, because he is. He's a genuine person, and despite the fact that he got our heat shut off for the 5 coldest days in March, he is. I took all the notes off his door, and then he asked me not to leave, but I went to throw the paper in the trash, and then he mumbled more bad things about himself and closed his door. So, I poured myself a glass of Jerry Garcia Merlot (b/c the label is a pretty volcano watercolor) and said, "Hey, Filthy! You want some ice cream. Ice cream always makes me feel better." And that's probably another reason why I don't have a boyfriend, because occasionally, to daily, I eat my feelings. But anyway, he said no. So, I took my glass of wine, and my pint of ice cream (no. I'm not going to eat it all. I'm not high, right now) and came into blog.

We're all lonely. We're always going to be living month to month, stuck in this rat race. These are more things he said. And I said, "We're not here for a long time, Filthy. We're here for a good time." I read that somewhere. I won't take credit. But I do believe it. Life's hard. Life has always been hard. Life will always be hard. If it's not one thing, it's something else. And you've just got to try the best you can, make it what you can. And I try. I get sad and mad, but I try not to stay sad and mad because it just makes things harder. And I wish I wasn't so lonely, so sometimes when I get lonely I try to do something that will make me happy, like phone a friend, or run, or smile a lot, or sing a song, or something else that will make me feel great, like watching funny things on youtube. I'm rambling now, so this - writing is another thing that makes me happy.

I haven't written any scripts in a while. I've got some ideas floating around in my head, and I think that's okay, because I had a playwriting professor who knows Edward Albee (one of my heroes), personally, and he said that Ed said that he walks around with characters inside his head for years, sometimes, before he can write them out. He walks with them, talks with them, so he can understand them, and convey their thoughts and emotions truthfully. This is getting way off topic. That's my one big problem as a writer, I would say. That, and my grammar. Fuck grammar. I write like I talk. I do what I want. My problem, I'm tangentical. Is that a word? I want to change the world. I want to do improv. I want to act. I've always wanted to, but I'm scared. I'm afraid of rejection - but who isn't?! I wish I wasn't such a baby. Throw me a pacifier and a blanket. Wah, wah! Someday, maybe I'll get sick of wishing and starting doing. YEAH!

Alright, you keep it real, cyber abyss. And I'll keep writing to the nothingness to soothe my loneliness. And maybe I'll write Filthy a note of something my mom said my Great-grandpa Fonz ("Fonce") used to say, "From the time that you're born, 'til you ride in a hearse, there's nothing so bad, that it couldn't be worse." He fought in one (or both) World Wars (what a horrible thing, war, but that's another blog post all together), PTSD. Once at a campfire, when the fire popped, he jumped behind a log, or something, and shook like a baby. Could you imagine? How awful? Oh, I'm getting angry about... no, I won't dive in that pond tonight, but human cruelty is the thing that makes me the angriest. Life is hard, you know it, I know it. Why purposely make it worse, when you don't have to? Communication is key. Anyway. I've strayed waaaaaaaaay far away from what I meant to say, and I keep writing for no particular reason other than the fact that I impress myself with my super-fast typing ability and the sound of my fingers smoothly striking the keys. Stop! Okay, I will. Peace and love. Lateeeeer.