Yet Another Way Dating Just Makes The Crazy Happen

After a certain amount of time in a serious relationship, women almost always reach the point where they are ready to cohabitate. To nest, as it were. If they don't, they are probably not in a relationship with someone they see as a long-term partner. Women are a dormant explosion of floral arrangements and doilies on the couch just waiting for a man (or woman) to come along and spring the timer into action. I have heard that there are men out there who are excited by the idea of domestic bliss, but, like men with feelings,  these are just urban legends created to instill hope in the hearts of women who have nothing more to come home to than the occasional hairball and a reproachful look for not topping off the food dish before leaving for work. 

This movement in relationships stuff is the sort of thing that is important to women. We're all about the "taking the relationship to the next level" shit. Some of us could be having the most mind-altering sex in the entire world and would still be thinking about how we were going to progress this relationship. The man is, of course, merely ecstatic about being able to put his penis in his girlfriend. Those of us who have experienced that scenario should probably start reading articles on living in the moment and taking up self-enriching meditation, but whatever. Obviously the Dhali Lama never had to worry about how to get his S.O. to make room in the dresser.

Men don't want things to change. If things are good, why fix it? Unless it's souping up that beater car he's had in the garage for the last thirteen years, then by all means, fix the shit out that! Change could put them into something they don't like. Or something bad that happened to them before could happen again!! That's SCARY!! And, it's a trap. Once you make that decision, there's no turning back. Ever. Moving in together is the Alcatraz of relationships! Once you're in there, you're in there for life! You couldn't possibly re-evaluate and try something else.

Many women want to live with their partners for a variety of reasons. These could be practical like saving money by splitting the expenses, or emotionally fulfilling by having romantic companionship and being able to explore life with someone. Or perhaps it's having someone to dissect their first impression of you from the first time they saw you.  At one in the morning, while they're trying to go to sleep, when they have a meeting in the morning. We are genetically geared to find someone to share our lives with. Even the most reclusive (yours truly) of the XX chromosomes crave the comfort of belonging in a home. Of actually having a home base to operate from. We get all squishy about that crap. And "his" and "hers" towels. We dig those too. Many men often see this situation as the inevitable restriction of being able to enjoy things they love, being forced to give up all hobbies except for what they can do as a couple while discussing feelings at all times, and losing any sense of privacy they have left. They also see the potential for being responsible for someone else's happiness and well-being. Living together means that she no longer has any need of friends or family, she's got a MAN! 

At this point the relationship has now hit a standoff. Girl wants to live with Guy and snuggle at night, take family photos with the cats, pick out matching sheet sets, have dinner together and all that stuff. Guy enjoys doing those things with Girl, but this is a COMMITMENT. He is resistant to agreeing to such a thing. There is so much for him to do in life! He needs to catalog his beer collection, finish painting the house, re-floor the living room, and all sorts of things that having Girl around 24/7 would Get. In. The. Way. Of!!! She wouldn't be helpful, she would suck the life out of him! She might prove to be a lazy, selfish, awful, AWFUL girlfriend! Why can't they just stay the way they are? Forever. Unfortunately, once the "I need to be with you full-time" time-bomb goes off, it can't easily be swept under the rug. It's a gnawing little beast that takes on a life of its own as it gets stronger and stronger. Conversations go from, "how was your day?" to "Are we going to live together yet?" in a matter of seconds. 

After the Cohabitation Monster has reared its ugly head, Guy and Girl have two choices: they can go their separate ways and try to find a relationship that works for what they want, or they can figure out a way to live together and see how it goes. There is a small section of people who will try multiple other scenarios (polyamory, living next door to each other, etc), but those are often the choices after the failure of the two most common solutions. Generally, if the couple goes with option A, they will often get back together shortly. The two people are in love (or at least full of the hormones that stimulates the love thing) and enjoy being around each other. It will normally take two or three go-rounds for them to realize that they have to completely sever contact, or they will go with Option B and move in together.

Once the couple moves in together there will be a short period (anywhere from a few months to a couple years) where they will be in honeymoon stage and ecstatic and whatnot. Redecorating will happen, they will do everything together, everything is exciting and covered in fairy dust. They will cute the shit out of dinner parties until their friends don't even want them around anymore. Then,  provided they haven't bred, after a certain amount of time, they will slowly go back to their normal behavior. Breeding causes another variable to be introduced to the equation and who knows what will happen. If no breeding has happened, Guy will go back to being able to play in his man-cave with his toys and drink beer with his friends and basically do whatever he wants. He will play with his computer and memorize the periodic table while taking yodeling classes. Girl will go back to hanging out with her friends, going to her groups, and talking about her feelings with people who actually want to hear about them. She will return to her fitness habits and will go on trips to see family members that he would rather chew his arm off than sit in the same room with. They are exactly the way Guy wanted things to be. Exactly how it was before they moved in together, except they now touch feet while falling asleep (as cuddling is way too warm) and bills are less detrimental to the paycheck.

This is a common scenario, most of you know exactly what I'm talking about. I have hit this point in perhaps three relationships. Obviously, I've always chosen option A, but there are those who have actually found someone they love being around, or at least they enjoy the cheaper living situation. And then, after all the struggle, after all the discussions, the fighting, the negotiating, the fear of being smothered in love... this is the most common thing I've heard from men after moving in with their girlfriends:

Why Men Think Women Are F*Ing CRAZY

Oh my God! A real post! Is the world coming to an end??

Nope, I just got a wild hair and had an interesting idea pop into my head. And, oh look! I'm stuck in a car dealership for the entire weekend with nothing to do... PERFECT!!

I hear it over and over again from men that I know, "Women are fucking nuts, Phoebe!" And I completely agree. We're bonkers. But honestly, you try living with a constant flux of hormones that are spending most of their time trying to convince you that the world is out to get you (and that you're the size of a carrier ship to boot) and see how far you go with seeming "rational" to the rest of the population. Now, don't get me wrong, men have hormones too (and feelings I hear, although I call shenanigans on that), but it's a slightly different mental game there. Men have the ability to think of one thing at a time. It's amazing. Women... well... we think about EVERYTHING... ALL THE TIME!!!! And when we get fixated? Oh lordie lord! Everything goes to hell.

So, here's a scenario most of you know:

 (Side note: This is a scenario for two people who actually like each other... this is NOT TRUE for people who are actually just looking for sex/hook-ups, that's a whole different ball game and I will address that at another time. This is also a GENERALIZATION on many experiences of mine and my friends'. Not everyone is like this, I know that... but this is my blog so piss off).


Girl meets guy. Guy seems awesome. Girl seems independent and sane. Guy is interested in girl. Girl is interested in guy. Girl and Guy go out. (You following?) So far, everything is going GREAT. They go out, they have fun, there's chemistry, it's all groovy. At the end of the evening they part ways, and then the problem starts. Guy says something along the lines of, "I'll call you." Or whatever other random line pops into his head that he's probably not thinking too much about (provided he actually likes the girl).

After they go their separate ways, Girl is walking around in a hormone-driven daze of infatuation. Guy is going about his normal routine, possibly considering what kind of underwear she's wearing, but attending to business as usual. Girl calls/texts/e-mails her BFFs and over-analyzes every single step of the evening. Within the span of a day she has already established his desire of her and is eagerly anticipating his next contact so they can continue with their "courtship". Guy continues with his life.

After a couple days, Girl has gone through numerous scenarios of whether or not he likes her and if he wants to spend more time with her. She starts wondering why he hasn't contacted her. It is Wednesday, Guy has been working at his highly stressful job. Girl has been working, and e-mailing, and texting and thinking. You see, men have a limited capacity to multi-task. Women can perform all necessary functions of their job, while gossiping with their girlfriends, maintaining a text conversation with their bestie, and following the news... All while painting their nails and chewing gum. Men focus on what they are doing. The higher the demands of the job, the less likely they are going to think about anything that might require more than a grunt of a thought. Like, "I like beer" or "nice boobs." They aren't going to sit around and process their (arguably nonexistent) feelings. They don't work that way. Girl is too caught up in wanting to hear from him to rationally remember that.


After a VERY SHORT amount of time, Girl runs out of reasons of why Guy hasn't made plans to hang out with her again. It is so alien to her thought process that she can't understand WHY she hasn't heard from Guy. She starts fixating on the lack of future plans. Even if Guy has said "hello" or seen how her day was, it's not the same!! He hasn't made PLANS! Doesn't he want to see her again? Is he seeing other girls?! Is he... *gasp*... not interested?

Soon, nothing else matters but contact. And, every moment of non-contact is a strong signal of disinterest. Girl checks her phone every two seconds, even though it's on sound, vibrate, and electric jolt if even the slightest notification shows up. She's to the point where she's getting shocked by a cattle prod every time someone likes a cute cat picture on Facebook. Guy considers on whether or not he wants to see Girl. He might think about whether or not the whole situation is a good idea. He might worry about hurting her feelings if he's not that interested (probably not, but I'll offer the benefit of the doubt as several men have CLAIMED this thought). Hell, he might just be thinking about the fact that he wants to eat a goddamned sandwich! Girl starts cycling through thoughts of "Ooh, he text me!" to "It's been five minutes" to "I wonder if he's sleeping with her" to "will we ever hang out again?" to "does he hate my cats?" to "should I go out with someone else?" to "He doesn't like me" to "Maybe I don't like him!" to "HE HATES ME!!!"

Remember, Guy has NO IDEA Girl is having all these thoughts. Guy is OBLIVIOUS! As a friend of mine always says, "the more oblivious the guy, the crazier the girl."

After Guy has finally worked through whatever it is that's taking up all his bandwidth (work, "feelings", etc) Guy decides he really wants to see Girl again. You can imagine his surprise when he experiences this:

And that, my friends, is how a girl can go from zero to bat-shit crazy in a matter of four days. Good luck avoiding it, it's genetic. I'm still working on discovering a cure. It's somewhere between a vat of ice-cream, a ten-mile trail run, and losing your phone.

Or you could go with my personal cure: adopt a shit-ton of cats and run screaming if an XY chromosome comes within a two-block radius of you  

More Translations

So today, I was scanning through the "I saw you" sections and came across this particular posting:

Whenever I see you at work I wish I could tell you that I think you're a really amazing beautiful person. It hurts that you hate me so much, what did I ever do for you to hate me so much. I think it's because you're scared of your attraction to me and you feel like I'll reject you if you try to open up so you put up this huge wall. It's too bad cuz you and I could be real good together. 


And I was thinking, "hmm... this is an interesting ad. I think it needs a little deciphering though, as I don't think he's being completely honest with the object of his obsess... er... AFFECTION."

Whenever I see you at work I wish I could tell you that I think you're a really amazing beautiful person.
When I peek over the cubicle wall at you while you're trying to accomplish your daily workload I often think about what you'd look like naked tied up in my basement.
 It hurts that you hate me so much, what did I ever do for you to hate me so much.
I can't believe you weren't flattered when I sent you inter-office e-mails of my penis. I don't understand why you don't love me.
 I think it's because you're scared of your attraction to me and you feel like I'll reject you if you try to open up so you put up this huge wall.
You obviously want me. I can tell by the way you run screaming down the halls. That restraining order was just your way of foreplay.
It's too bad cuz you and I could be real good together. 
By "together" I mean you locked in an secret, sound-proofed apartment I built into the attic of my house where I can check on you once a day to see if you've change your mind regarding your acceptance of my affections.

Yet Another Reason Why I Should Never Date

So, as most of you know, I have a slight problem with my phone...

I'm always on it. 

There are multiple reasons for this, but the most obvious one is that I like my men like I like my vacations: Hot, Last Forever, and FAR AWAY. (No, let's not analyze this). Because of this, I spend a large portion of my life texting. And, since people apparently have things to do OTHER THAN AMUSE ME while I'm at work, this is generally what happens when I text someone...

Rinse and repeat.

Cat Lady Pick-Up Lines #1

So, it's been a shitty day.

Nothing in particular, just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and have been a total snatch all day. So.... nothing new there.

Anyway, I was thinking it was time to answer the age old question that people keep asking me. 

"Phoebe," they ask, "you must be able to get any man you want! Tell me, how do you do it?"

Well, my friends... I am very smooth. Like a broken piece of balsa wood. Or coarse sandpaper covered in velcro. The men, they come falling at my feet (the minute they find out I'm paying for that last round). In discussion with one of my besties, we decided it was probably time for me to start showing you exactly how I find the amazing men that have graced my history with their presence.

I give you, Part 1 of how this future cat lady pulls in the men:

Sexy Lines VI

There are times when I look at my dating life and think, "gee... why am I alone?" I can't quite put my finger on it most of the time, I know there are guys out there that want to go out with me. I could probably even find someone stupid enough to date me "long-term", but for some odd reason I keep finding myself going home with my cats.

Along with perusing personal ads, making bad cartoons, and harassing people that want nothing to do with me via text message; I also have a hobby of sitting around and comparing my life to a movie... or at the very least, a TV show. Then I realized that if my dating life was a TV show it would be something along the lines of the bad '90s show "Love Connection."

And that's when the truth of my dating life dawned on me:

 

Sexy Lines Part V

So, as I think about true situations I have found myself in throughout this whole "dating experience", I recall many of the compromises that I've been willing to make to make the object of my affection happy.

You'd be surprised at how close to accurate this might actually be...

 

Sexy Lines Part IV

So, this morning, as I was BARTing to the dealership after a completely un-cat-lady-like evening of drinking ALL THE CAR BOMBS in San Francisco... well... half of them (my friend drank the other half), I got a note on Facebook from my Gypsy advising me that she needed more of the sexiest lines I've ever heard.

So... as per special request... I give you:

The way to assure this girl will never look at another man. In fact, this is probably the most surefire way to make me never want to let you out of my sights. I will follow you around like a puppy to the ends of the earth... And yet another reason why I go home to my cats every night.

Yup... true story.

Sexiest Lines Part Three - My Kryptonite

This particular phrase seems to get me on my back with my pants around my ankles faster than a sorority girl with a case of wine coolers during pledge week. I've tried to move on from this, but it seems to be the main factor in my choosing a mate...

Sexiest Lines I've Heard Part Two

I promise I'll get around to writing another letter at some point, I'm just not finding anything that inspires me. That, and I have a lot of homework and not a lot of mental energy to invest in writing the thoughtful, well-intentioned responses I try to put out there. HA!

So instead....

I offer you:

Another sexy line that has had me wanting to tear my clothes off and throw myself on the ground at the feet of the man uttering it!

Sexiest Lines I've Heard Part One

In my wild adventures of dating, I've heard a lot of lines thrown at me. Unfortunately, most of them are along the lines of:

"Wow, you're purty. Hur Hur."  *insert man giggling uncomfortably while shifting back and forth and hoping this will work*

Not exactly the most eloquent of pick up lines, but nice try Pal. I think I'll just sit over here in my cat-hair infested sweater and imagine all the colors I could paint the litter-box room. 

Then there's the amazing lines that they are sure will work to impress you with their ardent desire to peek inside your panties such as:

"Daaaayummm girl! You are THICK!" (Real line heard in bar in LA circa 2006). Yeah, that went over well...

But, I have been told some things that I find sexier than anything in the entire world, and I've decided that I would like to share them with you... in illustrated form.

Sexy Line #1:

 

Greeting Card Collection #1

Hi Everyone!!!

It's weekend! I'm at the v-dealer, sitting around in one of my favorite sweater dresses, and being flattered to a ridiculous extent by my darling, aging car-salesmen.

A few months ago, I decided to take a chance and date someone new. He was everything I love in a man... Handsome, smart, unemployed, lived with his parents on the other side of the country, and had a victim complex. I loved him so much!!! First man who ever asked me to marry him... how could I say no?

Then... after a month of our "dating" he drove all the way across the country to tell me...

He'd been fucking his ex-girlfriend the whole time. (And people wonder why I don't date). My picker is broken.

Anyway, this made me think about a collection I've been working on recently. You see, Hallmark has nothing but sappy cards about eternal love and "thinking of you's" and shit like that. Nobody really means any of that! I think people need to be more honest with each other and tell them what's coming from the heart.

So... I'm starting my own line of greeting cards.

The first one is a sentiment I feel many people share when hearing this particular news....

I think it says it all.

Have a great weekend all, a real post will be coming soon!

Just a Quick Translation For Your Amusement

What's up y'all???

Not much going on here, just hanging out on the computer at the V-Dealership waiting for the day to be over so I can go relax for the evening. By relax I mean sit BACK in front of the computer and continue working on all this "school crap".

A lot of you already know this, but for those of you that don't, I'm going to be unemployed in 2 months and will be returning to a higher learning institution (high school with ashtrays) to further my education. I've already turned in my notice at the vagina den. [insert shameless plug begging you to click on the ads on my blog so I can have money HAHAHA]

"But why, Phoebe?" you might ask, "why would you let go of the one thing that brings you so much joy? Looking at the vajajay!"

Well, my loyal fans, I am also brought joy by money. I would like some. I am poor. My laptop is dying (so I have to blog at the workplaces), I need new sweaterdresses (and perhaps a few more pairs of shoes), and my cats require more expensive food so they'll stop eating my flip flops for fiber. So.... I'm going back to school. I'm still working out the financial aid BS, but I've been accepted at one of the local colleges for my general ed stuff I need to get into a program. I need to make an appointment with a counselor and then I go back for my pre-requisites and start applying for nursing programs. I've been putting this off for a while, but I feel that I probably need a bachelor's degree if I'm going to snag me a rich man. I have the boobs, I do my best to resemble Barbie (tm), I wear too much make-up, spend too much time on my hair, and I'm working on the shoe collection... all I need is a piece of paper that says "I'm really not using you for your paycheck. Really. I promise... Can I stop working now?"

I haven't found Mr. Right Now yet, so I'm still looking... in between looking at dating sites and sugar-daddy offers online of course... I'm still working on my response to a real winner I found, but as all my friends are spurning me for my friend's blog on homeless people    http://seanthomasphoto.blogspot.com/  I thought I'd have to throw something up here to counter his monopolizing of my audience.

Yesterday's translation seemed to amuse many of my friends, so I'm going to offer this up as something to tide you over while I work on my real post.

Post I found today:

i miss holding a woman tight in my arms. spooning under the covers, keeping each other warm on a cold night. watching a good movie while cuddling in bed and maybe falling asleep in each others arms.

im not looking for sex or a hook up.. but a friend and snuggle buddy would be great.

me: 27 year old white male. in shape, handsome, funny and a great snuggler!
What a woman reads when she reads this ad:

i miss can't live without holding a woman tight in my arms while whispering sweet nothings about how amazing she is in every way and how jealous all her friends are of her. spooning under the covers after I bring her wine and snacks and light a fire and rub her back, keeping each other her warm on a cold night even when she puts her cold feet on my warm legs. watching a good phenomenal movie about true love that she picked out while cuddling in bed and maybe her falling asleep in each others my arms I will of course be on my back with her head on my shoulder so she can be comfortable and my arm can fall asleep.

im not looking for sex or a hook up because what I'm really interested in is your strength of character and personality.. but a friend (my only one) and snuggle buddy (every second I'm not working or doing nice things for you) would be great the best thing that ever happened to me!!!

me: 27 year old white (but very tan) male. in AMAZING shape (you can do laundry on my abs), handsome (I make George Clooney look homely), funny (I do stand-up as a hobby when I'm not saving the world and feeding the homeless) and a great snuggler (You'll sell your snuggie after I'm done with you)!

What our handsome Adonis was actually saying was:

i miss holding a woman tight in my arms. spooning under the covers, keeping each other warm on a cold night. watching a good porn movies while cuddling in bed and maybe falling asleep in each others arms.

im not looking for sex or a hook up.. but a friend and snuggle buddy would be great okay until I find someone that will put out or I can get you drunk enough to let me put my penis in you.

me: 27 year old white I have a computer monitor tan male there's a penis somewhere amidst the forest of pubes I've never groomed, I'm sure of it. in A shape (resembling a circle), handsome (if you ask my grandma), funny looking and a great snuggler (At least my teddy bear seems to like it)!

There you have it! I will have something else for you at some point in the next few days, but I needed to take a little brain break while I work on the real thing.

What Women Write VS What Men Read

Good morning/afternoon/whatever my handful of loyal fans! (All two of you)

It's a beautiful day here in The City and I'm happily sitting around in my vagina den counting down the minutes to when I get to go outside and play. (Or something like that).

It's Friday, and I'm desperately looking forward to my weekend. (All two days that I've had to work this week were extremely difficult). I will be at my second V job tomorrow, but that will be short-lived and will mostly involve my research in the field of crotchety car salesmen. 

Working with a dealership full of grumpy car salesmen has definitely taught me a lot in the differences between men and women, especially in the communication field. (Nothing is better than a cantankerous old man bitching about his marriage in an environment that has only one girl). Apparently, when it comes to communication, I am a boy when it pertains to anyone I am not romantically interested in (so... EVERYONE), but I have my girl moments. Unfortunately, my girl moments are of epic proportion due to the fact that I so rarely take the time to become romantically attached to anyone. Perhaps this is a sign I should date more... But I digress.  I was talking about my study of men and women and the fact that they might use the same words, but the words they use have insanely different meanings.


Allow me to illustrate:


Today, while working VERY hard, I stumbled across this jewel of a personal ad.


Hi, I just moved up here and need some passion in my life again I want someone to cuddle with, touch and make out with and if all goes well more Must love thick women I'm pretty easy going and laid back Your picture receives mine Put passion in your subject.

What our passionate princess actually meant was:

"I am recently out of a shitty relationship and moved to start a new life and get over him. I'm incredibly lonely and would very much like to have someone who would like to touch me. We can have sex if you tell me I'm pretty. I hope you don't mind that I've been eating my way out of the depression that my recent break-up threw me into. I will not argue with you or tell you anything you don't want to hear because I so desperately want you to hang around me. If you send me a picture I will send you a picture of my face and cleavage from a downward pointing angle taken on my camera phone. Please put passion as the subject line since 'random sex' sounds so crass." 

What our passionate princess's suitor actually read was:

Hi, I just moved up here and need some passion in my life again I want someone to cuddle with, touch and make out with and if all goes well more Must love thick women I'm pretty easy going and laid back Your picture receives mine Put passion in your subject     

Remember women... BE INCREDIBLY SPECIFIC in your writings. You never know what that dude is actually going to read.

Vacation Update

And I'm back from Hawaii...

That was exciting. 

I'm sure you're all wondering what a cat lady can do while in Hawaii; well, let me tell you!

• I slept on the floor of a tattoo parlor! (I know, I know... envy me)
• I was hit on by homeless men everywhere I went. Although, I did have a woman in a wheelchair, a neck-brace, and clothing from the 1960's outside one of the ABC Stores talk to me every time I walked by as well.
• I had strange, scary-looking men try to take pictures with me and my friend Connie at a Halloween Party/ 
• I got one of the most epic sunburns I've ever seen! ON MY ASS!!! Yes, the one part of my body that never sees the light of day. Burned right through the SPF 70 I smeared all over. I now look like I'm wearing a permanent white bikini. My cats were very sympathetic and proceeded to knead it promptly
• I went up to my waist in the ocean (and am still discovering sand in places I never knew I had)
• I got my ass kicked by a hike that was basically climbing up a wall. WTF?!?

Yup, that's about it. Back to your regularly scheduled, bitchy, personal ad mocking tomorrow. Perhaps I can teach my cats to put on aloe...

Yay For Online Dating Advice

I'm at work again (I know... go figure). My cats are at home sleeping in sun spots and eating, I am here and not sleeping. I've definitely gotten eating out of the way though.

Anyway, enough about my eating (it was awesome) and back to my exciting life of playing on Facebook, texting my friends, and fantasizing about hugging all the cats (yes, I just said that, and that bitch can still lick my toes). Today, while playing on the internet, and pretending to actually be doing something useful, I decided to check out Cosmo-like internet love and dating sections. Those of you that hang with me (or are on my Facebook) know that I've finally taken up dating. I'm starting out slow though, he lives almost 3,000 miles from me.

 Today I learned five ways to make a guy feel special. I am a little confused, but I don't have a huge amount of dating experience and I am willing to follow the experts' advice. I want to make sure the future father of my kittens will be happy and content in our relationship.

#1: Guys feed on physical attention.

Hmm... now this goes a little against what I've always heard. But if you insist, I will spend the rest of my life pressing myself on my guy at all times. I think public events, and family affairs will be the best part for this. What better way to make sure he knows how much I love him than when I grind on his leg at the office Christmas party?

#2: Spend alone time with your guy often

So, not only do I have to constantly be touching him, but I need to be demanding alone time all the time too? I never knew! Now I understand what I've been doing wrong all this time. Instead of allowing my guy free time to hang with his boys I will take up clinging to him on the couch at all times. This will DEFINITELY show him how much I care.

#3: Tell your guy you can't live a single day without his help

Are you fucking kidding me??? Now I have to 1) dry hump him everywhere, 2) force him to give up any speck of his own life, and 3) tell him that changing a light bulb is too much for me to handle??? (I'm beginning to wonder if I should just let my guy think I hate him)

#4: Flirt with your guy

Okay. What kind of flirting are we talking? Is this the coy, hard-to-get teasing? Or maybe the elementary school kick-him-in-the-shins and laugh when he yelps in pain flirting??? There are so many options!

#5: Call him when you're away

Okay... so when he finally gets a chance to not have me sitting on his lap and claiming all of his attention I am supposed to call him constantly so he knows I care. Got it.

Have no fear my love, I will show you how much I care! Dating experts out there say this is how, I hope you're ready! You can say good-bye to hanging out with the guys for beers, watching tv in your "man cave", getting a chance to read that book you've been looking forward to, or really... just having a SINGLE SECOND alone! I will be there (either physically or on the phone) to show you how much I care! Because I love you.

Ain't love grand?

So, What Do Cat Ladies Do When Not Reading Personal Ads Anyway?

Most of you enjoy reading my ramblings because of the strange things I find floating around on the internet, but I often get the question of, "What exactly do you do when you're not scouring dating sites for poor schmucks to make fun of?" I think that's a reasonable question to ask. I am positive that I do other things than lurk on the internet waiting for some socially awkward individual to post a plea for passion. But, the more I thought about it, the less I could come up with for my "wild personal life." But, you deserve an answer, so here you go. Last night was a prime example of my night life.
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Yesterday, I decided to do what any girl would dream of doing on a Saturday night; I organized my shoes. In order for this story to make sense, I will have to come clean and tell you all that I deviate from the standard "cat lady" in a few ways; one of the ways happens to be my deep lust for shoes. I yearn for them in a way that is almost creepy. Normally, the shoes I desire have four inch heels or higher, which causes me to be even more disinterested in dating (if that's possible) due to the fact that Cat Lady + HIGH heels = 6'2"+. And, while that is hawt on some of the women of my acquaintance, I don't really have an urge to see over the head of every single person in SF.

Anyway, back to my story. Last night I finished organizing my shoe collection in the bookcase I just put together to store them in. Yes, I had to put my shoes in a bookcase to store them. I also have a slide-under-the-bed organizer for my flats, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with my boot collection. "What's wrong with a standard shoe-rack?" you  might ask. Let me tell you...

My darling baby cat thinks he's a dog. He plays fetch, follows you around the house, and... he chews on shoes! Yes, you heard it. In less than a month he went through my entire shoe collection. He chewed the heels off the high heels, he chewed the straps off the sandals, he chewed the SHIT out of my flip flops. My gym shower sandals have tooth marks all over them and a big chunk missing out of the right one's toe. Now, most shoe lovers in my position would be forced to skin the cat for such a malicious attack, but I am particularly fond of him. And, it gave me a reason to do what pleases me most... buy more shoes. But this time I had to keep them in their boxes, and the Leaning Tower of Stilettos that was forming in my bedroom was becoming somewhat dangerous to the health of small creatures that like to climb on things. Something had to be done. *ominous, yet exciting  music*

When I embarked on my quest to put my shoes out of harms way I had only planned on putting together my cheap, press-board bookcase, and loading it up with the multitude of shoes I will never have an occasion to wear. Halfway through this project I realized that I needed to put my new sheets on my bed. I ordered a new comforter set (yay Amazon shopping) because my current set looks like the cats have been cutting out strips to slowly build a little satin ladder to use in their daring window escape. (They're still working on how to get past the screen). My new set should be here next week, but it was time to change the sheets anyway (the cat litter was building up) so I stripped my bed down and prepared to change the bedding.

I'm going to have to back up a little bit to have any of this make sense. About a month ago, the far corner of my box spring slipped off the frame and started pointing down. Last night, I decided that I might as well fix that while I had the bed stripped down. (I wanted everything to be perfect for my new comforter set. I would hate for it to feel unwelcome). I remembered being able to maneuver a queen size bed around without much difficulty back when I lived in a quad, but that was before I had the metal headboard and footboard and the whole shebang. And... my bed is HEAVY!!!

No one else was home last night so I figured it would be an excellent idea to do some heavy lifting. First, I dragged the mattress off the bed and with the help of my shoulder, my head, and a conveniently open door I managed to prop it up against the wall. (Please bear in mind that my room isn't exactly what I would term as "spacious"). Then, I pulled the futon that I keep between the mattress and the box spring off. I think whoever made that thing lined it with lead; I think the damned thing weighs more than I do. I was out of room at this point with the mattress and the pile of discarded bedding taking up all available floor space, so I folded the futon up into a cylindrical sack of rocks and pushed it onto the floor at the edge of the bed where I could stand on it. Now I could finally see my saggy box spring and the corner that had slipped off the frame.

There was absolutely no place in my room to put the box spring if I removed it from the frame so I could tighten the screws holding the frame together. So, I did what any normal person would do.... I tucked the Allen Wrench and the pair of pliers I needed to tighten the bolts into my bra and lifted the box spring up so it was supported by my shoulder and the other end on the frame. It was at this point that Mischka couldn't watch his mommy do this alone. So he climbed up the box spring to peer over the top to see what was going on. (Effing cat). Once I finally jostled the thing around enough to get him off the damned thing, I worked my way over to the corner, retrieved my tools and crouched down (box spring still supported on head and shoulder) to tighten the bolts and relocate the slats to where they needed to be to support the box spring.

As I heaved my way back to the edge of the bed where I could military press the box spring off my shoulders/head and start to lower it, Mischka decided to climb across the slats on the frame to inspect what Mom is doing. Did I mention how freaking heavy this thing is??? At this time I was holding the box spring a foot or so above the frame and trying not to drop it on my (retarded) cat. Merely hissing "shoo" at him wasn't registering that he was in the way. In fact, he seemed to be attracted to the "get the eff out of here" noises. I couldn't let go of the box spring with one of my hands to move him because it was too heavy and he was just out of reach. I then decided the best possible action was to nudge him with my foot. (Remember I'm standing on a rolled up futon at this point). So, with all the grace and dignity of a newborn colt I lifted my right leg off of the futon and stretched it to the full extent I could reach to shove the cat in the ass and hopefully inspire his moving off of the slats I wanted to drop this metric ton of box spring onto. Mischka looked indignantly at me and stepped off the slat to drop down to where just his head was poking up above the slats. (Giving me the stink eye the whole time, mind you). That was good enough for me, as I lost my balance and fell on my ass on the futon, dropping the box spring on the frame and gaining victory over the downward-sloping bed. Mischka merely stepped out from under the bed and proceeded to jump on top of the newly situated box frame to look at me face to face. Then he rolled onto his back to demand belly rubs.

That was about how the rebuilding of the bed went after I collected myself from the pile of knees and elbows my graceful futon dismount had turned me into. I would do something, Mischka would inspect and mess it up. Rinse and repeat.
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So there you have it. The exciting life of a cat lady when not playing on the internet. Try not to be too jealous. I also have the joys of scooping cat litter, brushing unappreciative cats to help them deal with the heat, and vacuuming up the drifts of cat fur that summer causes to be left around the house.

Envy me.

Really Amazon? Really???

So, as many of you know, I am an avid Amazon shopper. I love it! It appeals to my inner cat ladyness of not wanting to go anywhere. Especially the store. I HATE the store. In fact, I ordered toothbrush heads the other day because I was that against going to Target. I'm a Prime member, I'll get them in two days... it's perfect. Forget that store-going bull shit!

In addition to loving Amazon, I also love smoothies. They help curb my deep need for sweets by convincing me I'm getting dessert and dinner at the same time. This deception helps quite a bit, as my sweet tooth is more demanding than Chrissy at 5am begging for gooshy food. The unfortunate part of this story is that smoothies require blenders. 

You see, I have a normal blender that happens to be the size of Lebron James' ego (and just as loud). In order for me to have my evening smoothy I have to unplug all other electrical appliances in the house and pass out earplugs to my roommates. The joy of a morning smoothie has never been experienced by me. I deeply desire one of those single-girl sized smoothie makers. I was flipping through one of my Fitness Magazines the other day and saw one that was a blender and a smoothie cup in one! It was amazing; Angels sang and a spotlight shone down from the heavens onto the page that displayed that beautiful piece of equipment. I had to have one.

In a manner completely unlike my normal M.O. I researched many blenders looking for the right one. I rarely read user reviews (because, really, who goes online to say something nice anyway?) but I scoured every user rating available. I needed a specific type. Every blender I looked at on Amazon was a single-serving, blender/mug in one blender. I finallly decided on one and sent away for it. I am quite excited to try it out.

This morning I had to work at the car dealer's. No biggie, I enjoy it here. So, I came to work and settled into my normal, hard-working routine of playing on the internet and sewing. After an hour or two of mindlessly perusing Facebook I decided to see what was going on with my Amazon account. So I logged on, went to my little homepage, and this was the first recommendation for me (and it stated right on the front that it was recommended to me because of my blender):

Because this is exactly what I should have based on my purchase history

Really Amazon? This makes me sad. Although, a friend of mine in Portland, OR did suggest that I just remove one of the seats and replace it with a basket and then I can have my cats ride with me. I'm considering it.

Why I Can Never Sleep With Clint Eastwood

Dear Mr. Eastwood,

May I call you Clint? I do hope so, I am such a huge fan of yours. In fact, you come up in conversation among my friends and I quite frequently. Alright, I admit it it, I bring you up; my friends laugh and agree what a stud you are. I just thought that I should write to you to discuss a few key points that were decided on during a very serious discussion over pomegranate cider at the tasting room we visited.

I'm sure you hear from women all the time about how amazing you are. I've seen many, many, MANY of your movies, and I am quite a fan. In fact, if you were pictured on the front of romance novels I would probably give up reading books with substance and taste altogether. I might even consider sex!

In order to consider all angles on the discussion that we were having I had to do extensive research on you. On GOOGLE!!! Reading your Wiki page was quite enlightening for me. You have had some exploits haven't you, you naughty man?! How many children do you have? With how many women? You give Flavor Flav a run for his money! Well, except for the fact that you're not broke, have talent, and are by far one of the most beautiful men in the history of the entertainment industry. You're 80 years old and are still damned sexy! (In my own humble opinion that is). Although, who knows what you've come in contact with since you became sexually active; you've been having sex with women since the time when Syphilis was common. I can only imagine what kind of crotch rot you could have been exposed to. (And I have a very good imagination, by the way).

The original consensus of our "Phoebe sleeping with Clint Eastwood" discussion was that it could not happen because I would never want to be responsible for the death of an icon. I mean, you are 80 years old, and I am an energetic, physically active, feisty, blonde in her mid 20's. Can you imagine the death threats and hate mail I would get for that? Not to mention the awkward discussion with the press about how I was with you during your final moments. Sure, I would probably get a book deal and an interview with Barbara Walters, but it just wouldn't be worth it. Or would it? It almost sounds like a movie; we could write a documentary and call it "The Woman Who Brought Down an Icon". *insert dark, ominous tones here*

After quite a bit of thought into the matter (several months in fact) I have finally come to a conclusion on why I cannot ever join you between the sheets. Unless it's to spoon. If it's to spoon I will climb right in there, but I get to be little spoon! I refuse to be your human backpack!

Anyway, back to the subject at hand, I have come up with five solid reasons on why we can't have sex...

Top 5 Reasons I Can Never Sleep With Clint Eastwood:

• If I gave you a heart attack I would never be able to forgive myself. You mean that much to me.
• I'm afraid you would give me some sort of disease that doctors don't even remember anymore and I would be stuck with some sort of weird growth on my girlie-bits.
• You are obviously incredibly fertile, and the idea of bearing your illigitimate offspring is somewhat terrifying to me. Although, the child support might be quite lucrative.
• After the list of women you've been with, I'm afraid I have a little bit of stage-fright and I'm afraid of being somewhat inadequate in the bedroom department.
• Last, but not least, I would have to have sex in order to have sex with you. I hate to say this because I love you, but I'm a cat lady! We don't have sex!

So, Clint, I am going to have to tell you that we will just never engage in sexual activity. I hope we can still be friends.

All my love,

The Future Cat Lady

P.S. We really can still spoon if you want to!

A glimpse into the cat lady's mind when asked on a date

When a person thinks about "dating", how do they know if they're at a point in their lives when they're interested in dating or not? Dating is so involved; call now, don't call then, should I call? Why do I care if I haven't been called? I'm sure if you've read anything on this blog before now, you know my personal stance on the whole situation. But, as I've been chuckling over this recently, I thought I would share exactly what goes through my mind when asked on a date.

Ridiculously cute, charismatic, well-endowed, rich boy (don't judge, this is my dream-world and I can imagine whomever I want asking me out):

"Phoebe, would you like to get a drink with me?" He is, of course, flashing his dimpled, super-hero smile at me and tossing his perfectly conditioned mane of hair while opening the door to his extremely overpriced, pretentious vehicle with leather seats and a name I can't pronounce.

And the process of thinking goes...

o O (Wow, that is so flattering, that might be fun.)

(Ooh, I don't know; I'd have to shave my legs) O o

o O (It could be worth it; you'd get a free drink or two)

(But I'd actually have to leave the house and make conversation that doesn't involve my cats) O o

o O (Come on, what else do you have to do?)

(Well... I do need to clean the cat boxes........) O o

o O (Are you serious?! You would rather scoop cat shit than get free food?)

(Kind of, yeah) O o

o O (That is so lame. You could probably have sex if you wanted to. Can you even remember the last time you did that?)

(I think I'd rather sleep for that time instead of spending 45 minutes wishing I were asleep) O o

o O (So what are you going to do?)

(I'm going to go home, put on PJ pants, and decide between Hagen Daz or Ben & Jerry's) O o

(I think I might also watch Bridget Jonse's Diary or maybe the 6 hour Pride and Prejudice) O o

o O (Can we at least think about plucking the eyebrows, or eyebrow as it is now?)

(Who are you trying to impress?) O o

o O (No one, never mind. Let's just go home and eat a frozen dinner instead and watch the cat chase a bug down the hallway.)

So, in a nutshell, if your first thought when asked out on a date is "I'd have to shave my legs," you might not be interested in going out on a date. And if you'd rather scoop cat litter than have sex? Well, welcome to the Cat Lady Club, I'm Phoebe and I'll be your tour-guide.