The Wild and Crazy Weekend

I came in to work this morning to find that my computer profile decided to become corrupt over the weekend and suddenly I had lost all of my precious, precious computer related things. It was very sad. So, while Computer Guy Eric was working on my computer, I was sitting at Co-Worker Beau's desk, reading my favorite magazine (Woman's World) and then moving on to my new book (Remember Me (by Sophie Kinsella)) when Beau came in. He was a little surprised to see me but I explained that his chair was more comfortable than Co-Worker Rykken's chair.

Beau: What'd you do to your computer?
DM: I'm not sure. My profile is corrupt or something.
Beau: I always knew you were corrupt.

What? How could he say such a thing? Was it because my Sunday was spent jet boating with a much younger man, deep sea fishing? And I was steering the boat without a real driver's license? Could that be it? Must be.

Expect that the much younger man was 4 and the jet boat was in our imaginations.

Saturday, Beth's mom Laurie picked me up and we got to Beth's new house at about 2:30. Beth gave me the tour of her new house and it is terribly, terribly cute. Completely adorable. After Beth left for work, Laurie and I got started on the "fun cleaning," putting in shelf paper in the kitchen. I know this sounds easy but it really wasn't. Other than a lunch break (at Wong's, quite possibly the best chicken chow mein ever, well, outside of David Fongs (which I've only had once but have been craving for years)), we pretty much didn't stop (well, okay, I did take a break or two). It was interesting watching Laurie climb all over the counters and contort herself to get into the lower shelves. I wish I would have remembered to take pictures. I was in charge of cutting the shelf paper. Yeah, maybe not such a good idea because I am measuring challenged and also have a slight problem cutting (let alone walking) in a straight line. Eventually I got the hang of it. At about 9:30, Laurie and I finished the kitchen and thought about doing the linen closet. Common sense won over though and we left.

Sunday, people started arriving at around 11:00. First it was Beth's dad Terry, Laurie and one of Beth's employees, Jennifer. We started hauling boxes and it was soon established that I should not walk down the stairs because a) I am terrified of the stairs, b) it hurts (left knee has arthritis, right heel has foot spur) and c) walking down the stairs requires walking back up the stairs and that results in asthma outbreaks. Wow! I'm useful to have around on a move. But I was able to carry boxes to the top of the stairs at least.

A little while later, Liz and James showed up and so did Sarah, Nicole (another one of Beth's employees) and Nicole's 4 year old son Timmy. Then Scott, Laurie's boyfriend, Dave, Sandy (Scott's brother, sister-in-law) and their daughter (whose name I forgot) were there. Somehow I ended up being in charge of Timmy, distracting him so his mom could help move stuff and also keeping him out of the way.

Other than being told that Dana Marie Vittum was a silly name, Timmy and I got along fabulously. We sat in the chairs in the living room while people moved things around us, pretending we were fishing. Sarah walked by with the smart-ass comment "Fishing? Yeah? Well, keep her a way from fish hooks."

As we were fishing, Timmy protected me from an "ark" that had bit my leg clear off. But Timmy "ixed" it. Timmy has a slight problem pronouncing the first letter of words which led to me saying "Cat food?" and being told by Sarah that he meant harpoon. Yes. Because they sound so much alike.

Timmy also caught two dolphins for me, one a baby and to which I said "I will hug him and kiss him and call him George." The shark was put in a cage.

DM: Should we go jump the shark?
Timmy: Yes!
DM: Okay, let's go. Vroom.
Timmy: Vroom.
DM: Yes! We jumped the shark.
Beth: Laughter.

We also saved Beth's stuffed penguin from the sharks as well. Later, after the chairs were taken away and Timmy was following Beth around, I took him outside. We sat on the concrete outside of her apartment and were using our jet boat to travel to Colorado. I'm not sure what is in Colorado but Timmy suggested it.

DM: Should I drive?
Timmy: Yes.
DM: I don't have a driver's license.
Timmy: Oh. Here you go. I've made you one.

He hands me an imaginary license.

DM: Thank you.
Timmy: Now make me one.
DM: Okay.

I hand him an imaginary license.

Liz is climbing out of the truck.

DM: Liz! I have a driver's license.

The look Liz gets on her face is well, stunned. The best description? Deer caught in the headlights.

Liz: Really?
DM: Yes. Timmy gave it to me.
Liz: I was wondering about that. I was worried it was from the state.

Later, Timmy and I put on our imaginary pajamas (penguins for me, Power Rangers for him. I wouldn't normally choose penguin pajamas but who am I to argue with a small child?) and took a nap on the boat.

James: What are you doing?
DM: We're wearing our pajamas. Mine are penguins. Timmy's are Power Rangers.
James (To Timmy): You know I kick penguins (He pretended to kick the stuffed penguin earlier). Now I'll have to kick her.

DM: You're going to kick me? Gasp.
Timmy: Dump the arks on him!
DM: Okay.

Timmy hands me the shoe box he became fascinated with and asked his mom if he could take it home (it soon became the ark cage). I take the box and pretend to dump the sharks on James' head.

DM: Look. The sharks are biting his ears.
Timmy: They're biting his hair!

Later, at Beth's house, I took Timmy out to the back yard after he was wandering around talking to every one. This way, since the path through Beth's living room was ever shrinking, it would make sure that he did not get smooshed. In the back yard, he showed me his robot dog and how he was living in the box with the sharks.

Timmy almost (operative word almost) made me regret my choice to not have children. He was adorable and funny and seriously, seriously cute. I am sure he is not like this all the time. As he was leaving with his mother and after he had told me he would miss me and then came running back to hug me goodbye, I almost told Nicole that, if she ever needed a babysitter, she should call me. And then I came to my senses.

Keem wasn't able to participate in the move because she went home to LaCrosse for the weekend. She got back into town later in the afternoon and was sitting in the back yard with Beth and myself after everyone else went home (this was an amazingly quick move. But Beth had a huge amount of people helping her (and taking my share of the load. Although I was able to do more than when she moved into her apartment. Then I got to hold the door because I started up with the heat stroke again. I am a wimp)).

Beth: I bought a new wireless router. The guy said the difference was that it was stronger and then I could sit in the back yard and be online.

Keem: I could also sit out here with you on my laptop.
DM: I don't have a laptop.
Beth and Keem (this was back and forth and I don't remember who said what): We could get her a piece of cardboard. And draw a keyboard on it with qwerty. And then she could pretend she was typing.

DM: Uh, yeah, I think I'd read instead. Thanks.

For whatever reason, the top of my right foot decided to start cramping. Beth suggested I get up and walk around and I did. For awhile I was fascinated by the two squirrels that were chasing each other around one of her non-pine trees and then leaping to the pine tree. And there were also birds that I was watching. Eventually, though, I decided to head back to sit with Beth and Keem. It is then that I saw it.

I'm kind of allergic to pine. Because there's mold on pine. So you would think that when I saw the really cool pinecone that wasn't really a pinecone but looked like a pinecone thing on the tree that I would just say "Oh, cool" and walk away. Nope. Not this girl.

I pull the branch down to look at the above mentioned pineconey thing. A strange green substance, almost like smoke, comes drifting down towards my face.

DM: Cool!
Keem: That's pinecone pollen. The tree is germinating. That's how it does it.

Keem knows everything.

DM: Weird.
Beth and Keem: Do it again.
DM: Okay.

I do. More green smoke-like stuff drifts down on my face, I inhale it. You know, because I'm brilliant.

Keem: Um, Dana, I just thought about this. You're allergic to pine.
DM: Oh, crap.

By the time we left Beth's, I was starting to get a headache. By the time we got home, I was starting to wheeze. I popped two Benadryls and then was supposed to get in the shower but was reading my new book (my previous new book (Queen of Babble in the Big City by Meg Cabot)).

Keem: Dana! Stop reading and get in the shower!
DM: I am.

15 minutes later.

Keem: Dana!
DM: Okay.

I was still wheezing a little bit this morning but nothing major. At least I didn't break into hives or throw up or anything like that.

And my computer is fixed (well, obviously since I have sent this via email). Once my computer was fixed, I was able to start working (most relaxing Monday morning ever since it took until after 10 for it to be fixed. An hour and half of reading. Woo-hoo!).

Hope you all had a great weekend!

A Molding Experience

This was going to be two posts but I decided to just continue on the first one and change the date.

There are moments in your life that are fleeting and barely memorable. Maybe that moment, a couple of nights ago, when you stumbled to the bathroom at 3 AM and tripped over the cat. The next day, it seems to only be a dream. But it does explain why Eddy keeps giving me the cold shoulder.

There are moments when the time stretches out and that 60 second episode seems to be more like 60 minutes or even 60 years. Like the afternoon I walked down 5th Street and a man suggested I might want to check my skirt.

"Why?" I asked. He just smiled and walked away.

A few seconds later my face was as red as the skirt I had accidentally tucked into my nylons.

And then there are those moments when you take the experience and learn something from it.

I've had a few such moments in my life. One, of course, would be the Fish Hook Saga. Lesson learned? Do Not Put Fish Hooks In Your Mouth! Your fishy brethren will not appreciate your sacrifice. And many people will laugh at you.

Another moment? The Tale of the Blue Stiffy comes to mind. Lesson learned? Besides the fact that male appendanges aren't actually blue, I also learned that there are some people who will lie and hurt you just for the fun of it.

And then there was this Friday. The day started out badly, my alarm clock decided to completely die and Keem was not overly pleased with me. I had a bad headache that wouldn't go away and decided to take a half day. I went and got my hair cut (this, fortunately, turned out well. It's really cute, if I do say so myself (and I do)) and the shampoo helped relax me and make the headache go away somewhat.

Beth picked me up and we headed off to Manny's, looking forward to an exciting evening filled with great conversation and wondrous food.

Here is where I had the opportunity to make a choice and, once again, made the wrong one.

It's time to order at Manny's. They have a salad that Beth and I both like. They take a tomato and slice it up and take an onion and slice that up. Beth eats the tomatoes. I eat the onions. On the side of the salad is a block of bleu cheese. I love bleu cheese. I take a nice big chunk of it.

Beth: I can't believe you eat that stuff.
DM: But I love it.
Beth: Dana. You're allergic to it.
DM: I'll be fine. I've had it before.

Yes, that's true. And yes, I am allergic to bleu cheese. Mainly because I'm allergic to mold. And I've had it before and nothing has really happened to me. So why not live a little, right?

Why indeed. The chunk I have chosen is veinier than the bleu cheese I've normally had. Plus, hey, our wedge salad is served with bleu cheese dressing. Why not pour a whole bunch of it over the salad and the bleu cheese chunk and then add some creamy garlic dressing for flavor (yummy)?

It was delicious and wonderful. And also a huge mistake.

Two hours or so go by, Beth and I are driving back to her place. I am not feeling good at all.

DM: Ohhhhhh.
Beth: Are you okay?
DM: I don't know. Ohhhhhh. That doesn't feel so good.
Beth: You know, I will take you to the hospital but then you're going to have to tell them that you willingly ingested something that you know you're allergic to.
DM: But it's so good! Ohhhhh.

We get back to her place, Beth does some homework, I sit next to her and she puts in a DVD of this show she's been watching, Fruits Basket. It is anime that her cousin sent to her. It is quite possibly the oddest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. It doesn't help that the first episode I watch is episode 22 about Prince Yuki's fan club and the lengths they will do to prevent another girl from being around him. "Oh, Prince Yuki, I am blessed and cursed to see your face." It was a little over the top. Fortunately the episodes did get more interesting and I fell a little bit in like with Kyo, one of the main characters.

Sarah comes over because Beth is helping her with her homework. We go outside to wait for her. Beth is talking to Sarah, guiding her to a parking spot. I stand there, my face pale, my stomach in turmoil and then it happened.

I stumbled over to the nearest bush and released some of the evil bleu cheese that was torturing me. As I'm wandering off, I hear Beth say:

Beth: Dana? Are you ok...Oh. Okay (To Sarah). Dana's throwing up now.

I head back over towards Beth and then turn quickly back around. The bush is blessed with a lot of steak. And, of course, the bush is also right next to a window so I'm sure that Beth's neighbors were thrilled to hear me yack. It was great fun.

When I was finished, Beth asked me if I was going to be all right.

DM: I think so. And the best part of this was that I didn't have to throw up in the bathroom and that means my knees aren't going to be really sore.

Of course, for the rest of the weekend, I felt as though I had broken a rib or two. That was some violent vomiting. I'm not going to mention the other side effects.

And I did not get a lot of symphathy at karaoke on Sunday when I told James, Bryan and Liz about the experience. I believe the general consensus was "Well, hello, you're allergic to bleu cheese. What were you thinking?"

Yet another lesson for the ages. Bleu cheese is bad. Yummy. But bad.

Kissing A Fool

On the confession meme I did the other day, I had checked the box "Kissed a stranger" and then said that maybe I would tell the stories. On my categories, this will fall under What Was I Thinking (WWIT)? I am not known for my brilliant decisions when it comes to romance.

Okay, the start of our tale takes place in the nineties. I think. Maybe the eighties. I was working for Major's at the time and this was before I had moved to Madison. Someday I am going to sit down and write a timeline for my life so I can figure out when all this stuff happened, instead of saying "Hmm, well, I think it was when I was 20 or 25? Maybe 30?"

Hey, look at that. I got distracted again. Big shock. Anyway, my friend Becky and I had gone bowling. Or dancing at the bowling alley. I'm not sure. And there was a bar. And there was alcohol. And there was Dana, feeling somewhat lonely and depressed and less than attractive. And there was a total scumbag who picked up on these feelings and swept in and started flirting with her.

Before I go farther, remember, I did say this was in the What Was I Thinking? category. This is probably one of the dumbest things I have ever done and it amazes me sometimes that I am a) not riddled with countless sexually transmitted diseases, b) the mother of many small children and c) dead because I was killed by some psycho.

So total scumbag (TS) was flirting with me, I had been drinking, I did not make a very wise decision. This decision was to leave with TS after making out with him in the bar. Because nothing says classy like public displays of affection with complete strangers. On our way to TS's apartment, he spun me a tale of finely crafted bullshit and I fell for it. According to TS, he shared his place with a somewhat psychotic woman who was extremely jealous of any woman that he brought home. So what he was going to do, for my protection, was leave me at the Embers near his place, while he went to make sure that she was gone.

Does your brain start ringing the alarm that something's just not right about this? That is good. That means that you're not an idiot. My brain's alarm obviously needed to have its batteries changed because nothing went through my mind that even slightly resembled the thought that "Hey! Moron! Maybe he's got a girlfriend? A wife? Maybe he's psychotic? Did you even think of that? How do you know you're not going to be chopped up into little pieces and fed to his man-eating dogs?"

I sit at Embers for awhile. And then he returns. He takes me to his apartment which is, quite frankly, a total pit (I know I shouldn't talk because honestly, I'm not the most clean person in the world, but even I don't have tater tots scattered on the floor). In his efforts to seduce me, he offers me some cocaine. I am about to turn him down because I never really saw the great pleasure of cocaine when I see, on the floor, a gun. My brain now decides to start flashing an alarm. "Hey! Did you see that? That's a gun! You can't turn him down! He might shoot you! Oh, my God! Just snort the damn cocaine. What's the worst that could happen?"

I'll tell you what the worst that could happen is...you snort, figuring that nothing will happen because coke never has any effect on you and then he laughs and says "You thought that was cocaine! It's not! It's crank! Hahahahaha!" Yeah. That's really funny. Thanks.

I am not going to go into much detail about my "relations" with TS, other than to say that we did not consumate our great love affair due to performance issues. Which is just as well.

So, you'd think that I would have learned from the crank incident, right? That I would have said "Hey, Dude, I need to go home now. Thanks, it's been ever so lovely. Hope I never see you again." No. Again, I was an idiot. So when he asked me to move in with him, I said sure. He was moving to a new place, away from his crazy psycho roommate and she didn't know where he lived.

Yes, I know. I'm sure you'll need time to shake your head in dismay. Perhaps slap your forehead in shock. It's nothing less than what I've done myself.

So I got some things together and brought them over to his new apartment. Like my TV, the book I was reading at the time, nothing major (fortunately I left my cat and Panda at my mom's house (which might have been why I wanted to move out so badly. I lived with my mom. (I've narrowed this down a bit, this was before I lived in Madison, so it was probably 1989-90))) and brought it over to his place. I also, in an act of sheer stupidity, gave him money. Because he knew a way that he could double my money. That night.

I know. If you want to come over here and slap me, it's okay. I'll be at the Chalet on Sunday. It'll be nice to see you even if you're beating me about the head.

So we're hanging around his new place, attempting to correct his previous performance problems (perhaps if he stopped using drugs and oh, maybe get an implant, he wouldn't have problems anymore (is that too much info?)), when there is a pounding on the door and screaming. A woman screaming. Huh. Looks like the psycho roommate figured out where his new place was. That's not good. Somehow he manages to calm her down (wait. Did he just mention a threesome? What? I don't think so) and tells me he is going to go back to his other apartment and get some stuff. He leaves me there.

A smart girl would have thought "Hmm. Here this guy has a psychotic roommate that seems very upset that he's brought a girl over to the apartment she knows nothing about. Plus, there was that whole threesome thing that he brought up. I'm not interested and he is having problems with just me, how is it going to work with two women? Ohhhh. I'm definately not interested. I wonder if there is more going on between them that he told me." A smart girl would have thought that. An idiot would decide to clean. Which, to this day, surprises me.

So I'm working in the kitchen, doing the dishes, wiping down the counters, etc., when I make a discovery. There is an apartment application on top of the fridge. I look at it (yes, I am nosy). Huh. Look at that. The application is for Total Scumbag and Total Scumbag's Wife.

WIFE! As in, he is married. And also, there's a child listed on the application. A child. I am horrified. When he returns, I do not confront him on this (still remembering the gun) and also avoid his attempts to continue where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted by his WIFE! The conversation (what little there was because he's not so brilliant (I may not have street smarts but dang it, I can discuss Shakespeare like no one's business)) has become stilted. TS and I really don't have anything in common except that I was drunk and stupid and he knew how to take advantage of that.

Soon after, he says it is time to make his transaction. He brings up the money thing again. I am still thinking of the gun so I give him some money (why I didn't use the money to take a cab, I do not know. I could have easily left when he was gallivanting around with his WIFE!), actually all of my money. My entire paycheck.

Yeah, we've been over this. I was an idiot, okay. I know it, you know it, half the Internet knows it. Why do you think I have a category called What Was I Thinking?

He drops me off at some bar in North Saint Paul. Cannot remember the name. I think it was Garrity's Lounge. He tells me he'll be back in an hour. And I wait. And wait some more. And wait even more. Hmm. What might have happened here? Has TS abandoned me? Is it possible that a man who lied to me about being married AND having a child may have taken off with my money as well? How could that be?

There is, across the bar, a man who has taken to smiling at me periodically. Perhaps he likes the somewhat panicked aura that I am giving off. I don't know. After about 3 hours, with no sign of TS, I look up to see the man standing there with a rose. He says something nice, something along the lines of "Hey, are you all right? You look somewhat upset."

He sits down and we start talking. He is the Lesser of the Two Evils but we'll just call him Les for short, okay? Les appears to be genuinely a nice guy. This is somewhat shocking to me because, and I think I've proven it by now, I don't have much luck with nice guys. I will give a bit more detail on why this is later.

The bar is about to close. There is no TS. Les asks me if I want to go and get breakfast. I have poured out my soul to him about how I have no money so he indicates that he will pay. I agree and we leave, I clutching my rose and his outstretched hand, looking through the parking lot to see if there is the faintest inkling that TS might be returning to rescue me from my self imposed boredom (Because, seriously, what was I thinking that I did not bring a book with me? C'mon).

Les takes me to some restaurant that I do not remember now but I was amused to see that it was across the street from the Embers I had been the previous night. We are talking and I suddenly start shaking. Uncontrollably. I am cold or shocked or both or something. Les comes to my side of the table and puts his arm around me. This is helpful. Our breakfast arrives and then Les makes fatal mistake number 1, he starts feeding me the sausage. This is wrong on two counts. First of all, I am quite capable of eating my own breakfast, thank you very much. Two, if you are doing this as a suggestive, "Hey, I have a sausage of my own, doesn't this just turn you on ever so much?" the correct answer would be no. If you are going to use a food to symbolize girth, I would suggest trying something a bit larger, say a bratwurst or maybe a large parsnip.

Anyway, as I'm sure you all know what is going to happen next, Les ends up bringing me to his apartment.

I know. My God, what was I thinking? Do I have any self-respect at all? Obviously not. Well, at the time. This is the only good thing about many years of celibacy, it makes you think about past "relationships" and why they were not so good. Oh, by the way, "relationship" is in quotes because what I really mean when I say relationship here is "laughingly pathetic attempt at a romantic encounter."

We then begin what has been one of my healthier "relationships" over the years. This is not my longest "relationship" (6 months), this is not my most romantic "relationship" (with a man 7 years younger than me, remember Dane?), this is not even the "relationship" where I got engaged. Les was a good guy. He was nice, treated me well and was pretty sweet.

So what happened? Why am I not still with Les?

That's a good question. I'd be happy to answer that for you.

I have this problem (or did. It's been so long since I've been in a "relationship" that I couldn't tell you if I still have the same problem). When I get involved with someone, I suddenly change from Dana, fun and exciting but a little flaky individual, into Dana, clinging woman who can't make a decision all on her own and must rely on her big strong man. In short, I become a woman that I absolutely hate. A woman who cannot exist without a man in her life. I become the opposite of me. And my whole reasoning for it is that I am becoming what I think the guy wants. Why I think they want this, I don't know. Because hey, how better than to keep a man than to completely bury the fun and exciting Dana that they met and bring out Clingy Dana? Gee, I'm amazed I'm not writing advice columns.

So Les and I simply didn't have a chance. He was not perfect either, I will never forget the time when he became very ill and I stayed home from work to take care of him. He sent me to the store to get some medicine for him and they did not have what he wanted. I made an educated guess and purchased something else (tablets instead of liquid) and came back home (we weren't technically living together but I did spend a lot of time over there). He was extremely cranky, somewhat understandable because he couldn't swallow very well, had cold sores all over and inside his mouth. He saw what I had bought and threw a complete hissy fit, how did I expect him to swallow the pills? Why didn't I get him the liquid? What was I thinking by buying orange juice? That would hurt his cold sores! Why was I so stupid? Um, excuse me? I tried being very supportive but calling me stupid does not go far towards winning my everlasting love.

The last time I saw Les, he had agreed to go to my friend Illya's party with me. Illya's first name was Louis but everyone called him Illya (cool name, huh?). He was born on New Year's Day at 12:10 and his parties were a blast. Some facts about Illya: He spoke Russian, used to have his own cable show (humor, his sense of humor was quite bizarre), liked the Beatles and, if I remember right, wanted to be a clown (I forgave him for that). He is the guy who told me once when we were playing a game we had kind of made up ourselves that if I was a movie, I would be a romantic porno and that when I found the right guy, I was going to explode with love all over him and he would be the luckiest guy in the world. Sweet, huh?

So I went all out, I had this really gorgeous dress that I was going to wear (olive green jumper with kind of a sexy overalls look), garter belt, thigh high nylons, new shoes, etc. I did my makeup perfectly and looked great. I had spoken to Les at about 6 PM and he told me he would be there to pick me up at 7 PM. And then I waited. And waited some more. I went outside and had a few cigarettes. My New Year's Resolution was to quit smoking and I wanted to get as many in as possible before I had to give them up. I should state right here that this wasn't my choice. Les hated the fact that I smoked and so I was quitting for him.

I know. Not for myself. Him.

7:30 came around. I tried calling. No answer. Well, obviously he's on his way and is just running late.

8:00. No Les. No answer.

9:00. WTF is going on here? Where is he?

Nineish. Call over to Illya's. Ask to talk to Becky. Tell Becky that I've obviously been stood up and that I'm going to bed. I am holding back the tears. Becky can tell.

Becky says "There is no way I am leaving you alone on New Year's Eve. I'm coming to get you."

She proceeds to drive from Minneapolis to Mahtomedi on New Year's Eve. Isn't that great? That was the perfect way to help me feel better, knowing that my friend cared enough to come and get me so I didn't have to be alone. I loved her for that.

When she picked me up, I was upset but, after talking to her on the car ride back to Illya's, decided that I was better off without Les. It didn't take very long for me to shed the Clinging Dana personality and go back to my normal personality, the Dana that did what she wanted and damn the consequences. This Dana is the one that decided that "Hey! Screw this quitting smoking thing. I have decided to make my New Year's resolution something fun and exciting."

I bet you'll never be able to guess what I chose. Go ahead. Try guessing.

I decided my New Year's resolution was to kiss every man in the apartment.

It was probably one of the best nights of my life. There is a video of the whole evening and you can see me, my face flushed, laughing with my friends and planning my next stage of attack. I sparkled, Les was forgotten and I had such a great time. I think I even kissed the really creepy guy that no one knew. Not positive.

I never did hear or see from Les again. I did, however, hear from TS. About a week or two after he abandoned me, I received a phone call at the bowling alley. He tried to weasel his way into seeing me again. I told him no way in hell. I should have said yes, shown up with a ton of my male friends and got my money and stuff back but I wrote him off as a learning experience. Learning experience would be "Don't trust everyone you meet, you door knob!"

Now that I've had the enforced years of celibacy (which may not actually be 8 years. I'm bad with the math and I think Beth and I figured it might only be six or seven. But I laugh at these numbers (MWAHAHAHAHA) and say six, seven or eight, it's still a really freakin' long time), I like to think that I've learned a lot and become someone who doesn't believe I need a man in my life to make me happy*. The What Was I Thinking? train has pulled into the station and I feel no need to board it again.

*That's not saying that it wouldn't be nice if Gil looked at me one day and was filled with an uncontrollable desire to freakin' kiss me already!

Title, of course, comes from George Michael. I'm not sure who the fool was in my tale, perhaps me, perhaps TS and Les. Maybe all three of us? You decide.

Kissing A Fool - George Michael

You are far
When I could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that you were strong enough
To even make a start
But you'll never find
Peace of mind
Til you listen to your heart

People
You can never change the way they feel
Better let them do just what they will
For they will
If you let them
Steal your heart from you

People
Will always make a lover feel a fool
But you knew I loved you
We could have shown them all
We should have seen love through

Fooled me with the tears in your eyes
Covered me with kisses and lies
So goodbye
But please don't take my heart

You are far
I'm never gonna be your star
I'll pick up the pieces
And mend my heart
Maybe I'll be strong enough
I don't know where to start
But I'll never find
Peace of mind
While I listen to my heart

People
You can never change the way they feel
Better let them do just what they will
For they will
If you let them
Steal your heart

And people
Will always make a lover feel a fool
But you knew I loved you
We could have shown them all

But remember this
Every other kiss
That you ever give
Long as we both live
When you need the hand of another man
One you really can surrender with
I will wait for you
Like I always do
There's something there
That can't compete with any other

You are far
When I could have been your star
You listened to people
Who scared you to death, and from my heart
Strange that I was wrong enough
To think you'd love me too
I guess you were kissing a fool
You must have been kissing a fool

Alcohol

Hey. In case you're wondering, this post will be about alcohol. And why I am never ever ever EVER going to drink again. Ever.

Some background here. I started smoking when I was 13. Because it was (snorts hysterically, realizing what an idiot she was) cool. Alcohol and drugs following shortly after, our heroine (that would be me) falls in with a bad crowd and began to do stupid things. Some of these are funny, some of these are horrifying.

Some examples:

1. The night I was babysitting the four children from hell and my friend and neighbor suggested that we should get stoned before we go. Yeah, because that's great AND responsible. Plus, we couldn't get in touch with "our connection" and decided to try popping some pills instead. Except when she encouraged me to steal the Dexatrim from the corner store, I grabbed the wrong package and ended up with something else that started with a D. I do not remember what it was but it did not give us the feeling that we wanted. So then we raided medicine cabinets. I don't remember what we ended up taking all together but it was enough, that when I went upstairs to get a blanket for one of the kids (because the parents of the spawn of Satan thought "Hey, I know! What will make Dana's life more horrendous? How about if we let her baby-sit the demon children of our friends for the exact same amount of money? That'll be great!"), I heard this crashing sound and then realized it was because I had passed out. I think we figured out later that I had taken the equivalent of 50-60 aspirins. God protects the stupid, is all I have to say, since there weren't any more adverse effects.

2. The night I was dumb enough to drink 5000 kamikazes (okay, probably not that many) while in Stillwater and decided that, hey, I should protect my friend by distracting this really annoying guy who is hitting on her. And what better way to do that then have sex with him at a construction site! Wow. I sure have great judgment when I'm drinking! Here's the link if you want to read about this night. And yes, if you read it and find yourself laughing in places, that's okay. While it was a traumatic experience at the time, I am way over it.

3. When I was living in Madison, there was this guy that was gorgeous and wonderful and funny and sweet and quite perfectly perfect. And he liked me. And he would flirt with me in this gentle and caring manner that was leading up to him asking me out (or so I found out later). But then, one night when he was over at the house that my friends (down to just Becky at this point, I think) had rented, a group of us decided to play spin the bottle. With shots of tequila. This, just in case you hadn't figured it out, is not a good combination.

Now, I used to have no problem with my liquor. None. In fact, I drank tequila all the time. When Becky and I used to hang out at the bar that our landlord bounced at (and he was wonderful and would get us in with no cover and for happy hour, they fed you and it was great because half the time we couldn't afford to eat (although if I think about it, perhaps we would have more money for food if we didn't drink so damn much)), I would go up to the bar and order a shot of tequila. When the bartender asked me if I wanted the salt and lime to go with it, I would scoff and say "Please. I drink my tequila like a man." This would completely shame the five or six guys standing around with their salt and lime. Especially after they watched me slam the tequila right there. One night, Becky and I figured that we drank over 30 shots apiece. And somehow, miraculously, we made it home in one piece. This might be because not all of the shots were tequila.

But on this night, the spin the bottle night (sorry, I went off on a tangent again. I'm good at that), the tequila was having an adverse effect on me. All I really remember about this is that sweet, wonderful, attractive guy spun the bottle, the bottle pointed to me and he leaned in to kiss me. Finally, finally, our lips would touch and we would kiss and realize that we were meant for each and then we would make sweet, sweet love, quite possibly in the rain, and then get married and have the proper amount of children (2.5) with a white picket fence. Let me rephrase that. We would live in a home with a white picket fence, not have children with the white picket fence because then the children would have pointy heads and that would be bad.

Since I do not have children (that I know about), obviously something happened to prevent our miraculous romantic encounter. What was it? What could it be? Oh, I know. I came this close (holds fingers together to demonstrate hardly any space at all) to throwing up on him. One moment, his lips are right there, within reach, the next moment, I am gagging and running to the bathroom where I spend the next 30 minutes praying to the porcelain God (Told you guys I was religious). When I finally managed to stop heaving, I returned to the living room to find out that Mr. Wonderful was gone. Sheesh. Almost throw up on a guy and he loses interest. I don't get that at all (yes, I am being sarcastic).

4. The first time I ever got drunk was on blackberry brandy. I was over at a friend's house and, for some reason, she was in her room and I was out in the dining room with her dad and some guy and the dad offered me something to drink. Why he decided to serve me blackberry brandy when I was 14 or 15, I'll never know. Why he combined the brandy with Cheez-Its is another mystery. I do remember staggering home and somehow my mother never found out.

5. A few times with the really bad influence that lived next door to us (I called her Lorna (fake name) since really bad influence that lived next door to us is really a long name), we decided to go roller skating (Saints North. Before roller blading and inline skating. And the song that would play a lot was Stroke Me by Billy Squier. God, I'm old) because it was a great place to meet boys. I have no coordination whatsoever. What helps you in this endeavor, the needing to balance on a total of eight tiny wheels? Oh, let's slug back half a bottle of vodka! Or, oh, hey, you don't have any access to vodka? How 'bout you drink some cold medicine. That'll help. Oh, and hey, some girl cut you off on the rink? How 'bout you try to take that bitch down a peg or two? That'll be fun. Although I must say that the look on Lorna's face when she saw me try to fight this girl who was probably four inches taller than me was priceless.

6. When I was 16 or 17, my mom had me in counseling because she was worried how I was reacting to my parents divorce (which I never understood since I was the one that said "It's about time" when she told me she was leaving my dad (loved him dearly but he was not a good husband or father when he was drinking (hmm, perhaps I could have learned from this lesson)). One day I went over to my friend Kathy's house to spend the night with her and my other friend Sue. I remember that we spent the night drinking Sloe Screws (Sloe Gin and orange juice) and I was mixing my own drinks. Not aware of the power of the Sloe Gin, I decided to fill my glass about 1/2 Gin, 1/2 orange juice. Yeah. Because I'm brilliant.

After a few of these glasses, I am feeling no pain and enjoying the movie we are watching (Grease 2. Which explains, now that I think of it, why I defend this movie when people are running it down. No wonder I enjoyed it. I was drunk! I don't think I've seen it since).

I do not remember this at all but apparently, I got up to go to the bathroom, staggered down the hallway and stopped to ask Kathy a question:

DM: Kathy?
K: Yes, Dana?
DM: What's this on the wall?
K: That's a candelabra, Dana.
DM: Oh. Okay. Excuse me, Mr. Candelabra.

The next morning, my mom is calling and is furious because I didn't come home in the morning like I was supposed to and we're going to be late for my counseling appointment. I had best get myself home right now.

Kathy drives me home and Mom orders me in the car. I get to counseling in time (barely).

After counseling, Mom and I are getting into the car, when I lean out the door and throw up on the ground (yuck). I sit up slowly, waiting for the lecture I know is going to come. Crap. I am so busted.

Mom: Were you drinking last night?
DM: Yes.

There is a slight pause. I wait for it. The lecture is coming, I can sense it. The "You're too young to drink, I can't believe you did this, you are grounded forever, missy" lecture.

Mom: You realize that the headache you have now is the result of 100s of brain cells dying, right?
DM: Yes.
Mom: Good.

Wait. That's it? Dying brain cells? You're kidding me, right? But apparently she felt that my hangover was enough. The horrible headache would teach me a lesson. I never told her that, other than the vomit, I felt just fine.

7. Last night, I drank 7 shots. Seven. Seven wonderful little concoctions called the Buttery Nipple (dumbest name in the world but so yummy). And then I did the worst possible thing I could ever do under the influence of alcohol.

I tried to have a conversation.

I am not really sure what I said but I am afraid that I made a complete fool of myself.

I do remember watching Poker (why, why, why do people watch poker? It is so boring) and seeing the word flop. I think I said something about flop being a fun word. And then mentioned segue. And then Char said you could take a segway tour of the Mississippi and she would fall over. And I said "You could flop on the segway." And I laughed. Because it wasn't funny at all but hey, I was drunk.

I'm sure Beth and Char remember more of what I said and how I embarrassed myself. I do know that Gil's name came up and I'm sure I said something really stupid about how much I like him. Thank God he was not there.

I am never ever drinking again. Ever. I don't care how good the Buttery Nipple tastes. Mmm. Butterscotch Schnaaps and Bailey's Irish Cream. Little drops of heaven on your tongue.

Here's a picture of one. Beth took it.

Okay. Maybe I'll only have one more. And it's not like I have to drive. And maybe they'll come up with a non-alcoholic version of schnaaps and Bailey's? Hey. It could happen.

And our title comes from the Barenaked Ladies song entitled (You guessed it!) Alcohol.

Alcohol, my permanent accessory
Alcohol, a party-time necessity
Alcohol, alternative to feeling like yourself
O Alcohol, I still drink to your health

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol

Forget the cafe latte, screw the raspberry iced tea
A Malibu and Coke for you, a G&T for me
Alcohol, your songs resolve like
My life never will
When someone else is picking up the bill

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I'll use something else

I thought that Alcohol was just for those with
Nothing else to do
I thought that drinking just to get drunk
Was a waste of precious booze
But now I know that there's a time
And there's a place where I can choose
To walk the fine line between
Self-control and self-abuse

I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
Would you please ignore that you
Found me on the floor
Trying on your camisole?
O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I'll use something else.

Would you please forgive me?