So, I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’ve decided to give the online dating thing another shot. I’ve met a few incredible guys this way (Nate & Scott in particular) that I’m still friends with, so I figured what the hell. At the very least, it should make for some great “bad first date” stories. Stay tuned, folks. Both drama and comedy are just around the corner.
Author Archives: Cindy
A note for Miss Becky
I found out this evening that my friend Becky L.’s mother was in a really bad car accident yesterday. She’s in a coma in ICU with various injuries that could potentially be really bad (spinal cord, internal bleeding, etc.), and they’re waiting to find out if she’s going to be ok. I’m pretty sure Becky never reads this site, but just in case, I want to let her know that I’m sending all of my best thoughts & prayers for her, her mama, and the rest of her family.
Leadfoot the Upstairs Neighbor
A couple of weeks ago, I called my landlord to complain about my upstairs neighbor. He’s been kind of a problem for me ever since he moved in a few months ago. First there was the incident where he double-parked in front of all the visitor parking spots, so when Scott was trying to leave & maneuver around him, he backed into the concrete retaining wall & gave himself a flat tire. Ever since then, it’s been the noise. The constant, never-ending noise. I can’t imagine what he’s been doing up there. I thought maybe he was Dutch & wearing wooden shoes or something. There seemed to be a lot of clomping & banging going on. And every now & then there would be a bang so loud that it would scare Teenie out of her nap. So I asked my landlord if he would ask this guy to please keep it down.
Oh, Leadfoot also tends to throw things off of his balcony — mostly cigarette butts and the cellophane wrappers around the cigarette boxes — which inevitably seem to land on my balcony. And it grosses me out to pick up that stuff, so I asked the landlord to mention that too. He said he’d be sure to give the guy “a good talking to”.
So tonight, I took the trash out to the dumpster & stopped to get my mail on my way back. I ran into the landlord at the mailboxes, and he asked if the dude is still making racket. I said that I still hear him sometimes, but it’s gotten better (this is true). He said “Well, he just got a gym membership, so he shouldn’t be dropping any more barbells up there.” HUH??? The idiot was lifting weights and DROPPING the barbells even though he knew that someone lived below him?!?!! I mean, I’m glad that I know the source of the loud noises because I was starting to get concerned, but good grief. What a jackass.
I wanted to mention to the landlord that he should also tell the guy to put a pillow between his headboard & the wall because I’m tired of listening to him have frat-boy-jackrabbit sex with his little skank ho girlfriend when I’m trying to sleep. But my landlord is a little creepy and I didn’t really know how to bring up that subject & not feel icky about it. My mom said I should leave an anonymous note on Leadfoot’s front door about it (like “hi, I live in the same building as you, and the walls are thinner than you think, so….”). I’m thinking about going the passive route & just cranking the air filter up to “high” so I can drown them out.
I'm too sexy for my… eh?
Apparently I must be giving off some kind of weird pheromone. Here’s the recap of the random male attention I’ve been getting for the past few days.
* Saturday night – (1) Doorman at the bar that Krissy & I went to was VERY flirty with me. Like way too flirty for a guy who doesn’t get tips. He complimented my shoes. Hmmm. (2) Three different bartenders were all very flirty, which isn’t that surprising because that’s how they get tips, so they probably do that with all girls. So I didn’t put too much stock into that one. (3) Two really sketchy Turkish carpet salesmen (I swear I’m not making that up) told me that I had beautiful lips and that I smelled good. Uh… ok.
* Sunday – At my most low-maintenance (minimal make-up, nothing going on with the hair, jeans, sneakers & an old boring sweater), this little old man in the grocery store asked me if I was born in Tennessee. I was really confused, thinking “can people tell by looking at me that I was born in the south??” So I told him no, I was born in Mississippi. He said, “Well, you’re the cutest ten I see.” Note to all of my male friends: You must be at least 75 years old before you can pull off this line and not have women roll their eyes at you.
* Today (Monday) – (1) Got the flirty vibes from one of my male customers, which isn’t that big a shock because he & I have had flirty vibes since I started going there a couple of months ago. Today we talked about our pets. He has a puppy. (2) Found out that one of the guys in my office has been asking about me. I won’t say who or how I found out because I was sworn to secrecy, but I honestly thought this guy was gay, so needless to say that shocked the hell out of me.
Maybe it’s the new haircut? I can’t imagine. Very strange.
new link
I’ve added a link to Lonster’s blog in my list on the right. Sure, I don’t technically know the guy, but he’s commented on my site a couple of times, and he’s a friend of gclark’s, so he’s gotta be a cool dude.
eeeewwwww…
Ok, did anyone else see this article about the dead whale that exploded in the middle of a busy street in Taiwan? I think the best part of the article is that they seemed to feel the need to mention that the whale’s penis was 5 feet long!!!! 5 feet! What the hell? I mean, I know it’s another species & all, but WHY?! That’s only a few inches shorter than me, for crissakes.
Although I must say, as bad as the Seattle traffic gets sometimes, I’m really glad that I’ve never had to deal with dead whale shrapnel screwing up my morning commute. Yeesh.
pooh tattoo part deux
I went to the gym tonight — that’s the 2nd time this week, for those of you who are keeping track. I’m trying to find a useful outlet for all this crazy body image stuff that’s been in my head lately, and this seems like a healthier alternative than oh, say, plastic surgery. And cheaper, since I already paid for my membership for the next 3 years.
I’ve noticed at my gym that LOTS of people have tattoos, which I suppose is really no big deal. I imagine that most of the people I run into on a daily basis probably have one or two that you’d never see when they’re in their street clothes, but it’s a different story when they’re in tank tops & shorts. I mean, I have one (tattoo, that is), but I imagine that there are plenty of folks out there who’d be shocked to know that. But since I know a couple of tattoo artists, I always check out other people’s body art. Usually just a quick glance to notice the design and how good or bad the shading/coloring is.
Anyway, tonight I was working out on one of the weight machines, and this lady sat down on the machine next to me. Something above the sock line on her ankle caught my eye. I glanced down, and TA-DA!! She had a tattoo of Winnie the Pooh. And you know, it was kind of lame. So I’m thinking that we’ll just forget about that idea and keep saving up for something else superficial & cosmetic, like having all of my leg hair permanently lasered off (god, that would save so much time).