Myspace Migration: Average Every-day Sane Psycho

Some days you just know are going to be odd. They start out just plain wierd and then move to the left from there. Today, my friends, was definately an "odd day." And I'll warn you, so is this blog posting. It's going to be a rambler, folks...
Odd days are interesting, though. You get to experience the surreal, you interact with true characters and they always leave an impression. Today... no exception. The day started with something that rarely ever happens to me: I overslept. And not just by a little bit ~ Oh, no! I overslept by literally hours. Plural. Like 3. Even after I woke up (KNOWING there was somewhere else I needed to be), I just couldn't get the engine running. Eventually, of course, I did get moving and get out the door... to be hit by my first psycho-encounter of the day.

He's a candidate. Nice guy - but nuts. Like way too many candidates, he'd really like me to make water out of wine. Yes, I said that correctly.. he's got wine right now and he's completely drunk off his hind-end. Water, for him, would be helpful. Unfortunately, he wasn't talking to the progeny of God; he was talking to me. Miracle-worker? Yeah, not so much. So, after I get the guy back into reality, I realize.. this is the third time in two days we've had this same conversation. Who's life am I in??

Know when to cut your losses. There are going to be times that people just don't get it. That's ok. Can't really get mad about it, because well... what's the point? It's not going to change the situation, other than to make you want to grab a punching bag. And seriously, what did that punching bag EVER do to you?
So, then we're on to the part of the day that's affectionately known as "fun with the ex." Doesn't really matter which ex- I'm talking to; it's all the same conversation. "Oh, you're having a bad day (again)? ... Sorry to hear that... No, I can't really fix it because, you see, I have my own life to attend to right now... Yes, I understand that your world is upside-down; but, remember? That's not my life anymore (pause for effect and shake head in disbelief)." I may be the girl you want with you when you bury the body... but that doesn't mean I'm actually going to DO it. That's kind of reserved for very good friends. LOL Anyway, the "fun with the ex" is really that I don't have to deal with it any longer. It's like watching a campy 70s flick - you can realize it's a train-wreck, you feel bad for the people who got sucked into it, and you can find a sort of empathetic humor in it because... well... it's not happening TO YOU. I don't know, maybe this is a warped view; but, I think when you get there, you're in a healthier place.

As an aside, Starbucks rocks. Seriously. Drive-thru coffee when you're groggy as a marsh-bottom is truly some kind of twisted God-Send. I say it's twisted because it's addicting and it's probably too easy for your own good. If you actually have to make the coffee, you're less likely to consume gallons of it. However, as it stands, there is a Starbucks across from my work and I should be approaching "benefactor status." Wouldn't it be great if Starbucks had some kind of "rewards program?" LOL As I write this, I realize I'm probably going to get some kind of response saying that there IS, in fact, a rewards program; you just have to actually get out of the car and go inside to discover it. But, that cripples what makes Starbucks such a beauty of creation. On to the office.

The Office. I love my office. Seriously. I never know what I'm going to encounter. There is almost always a tangible synergy there. You can always hear the din (unless it's a weekend or Friday after 3 o'clock.. then it's pretty darn quiet); but, most mornings, you can FEEL it. Kinda creepy, but good to establish forward momentum. We drive each other. The "X" factor at work is the conversation. There has not been one day in my office where I didn't get into some strange conversation that, at the end of it, I wondered how I ever got entangled into that conversation to begin with. Today it was about whether or not it is better to pop a pimple or let it fester and go away on it's own. I know, gross, right? And that conversation had absolutely nothing to do with business... but hey, she left smiling... so, I guess it's all good. Today, though, there was too much distraction. I couldn't concentrate; needed quiet. Had to go home.

When I got home, I realized that I had been locked out of my home. Thank you Nicole (my housekeeper). Who gets locked out of their house as a single person? I mean, isn't that really reserved for non-paying renters or displaced spouses??? But, it reminded me that I needed to call a casual pal of mine that I just found out was displaced. Of course, being nuts, I called her before I got into my own house. Hey, might as well do it while it's fresh on the mind. Thank God there's noone in my life that could actually throw my clothes out on the front lawn. Noone would want my knickers in the yard, anyway - but, I'm pretty sure that would kill me. Death by mortification.

Naptime. I'm not really a big nap person, but I could really get behind the English concept of "tea-time." Lately, around 3, I'm dying to turn my brain off for a few minutes. Today, we got to experience the joy of a migraine and wierd "brain-fog" (technical term); so, a few minutes was more like a couple of hours. Anyway, it feels like by 3 or so, I've overloaded my brain. There's no more room to assimilate information. Sorry, I've checked out; come back later. Maybe "tea-time" would make that better. Allow the cramping to stop; give the information time to file and sort itself away and then back to reality. Maybe I should bring this up at the next committee meeting.

Men. Well, it could read women just as easily, I suppose... depends on the gender you are. I'm a chick, so for me.. it's men. But, if you're single and you're dating (which contrary to popular belief, does not necessarily go hand-in-hand), it's almost a given that there's going to be at least ONE encounter with the opposite sex each day that makes you go "Hmm." Today, no exception.. but, because it's "Odd day" it's more of a "Huh?" moment. Here's the set-up: went out with this guy about a month or two back (I lose track of exactly when and how long). Nice guy, and we got along, but there was nothing really extraordinary there. Nothing that drove me to really want to see this guy again. In fact, I don't think he's even crossed my mind for a month. So, out of the blue the guy calls today wanting to do something. Once I get my wits about me, I thought "Sure, why not?" Ok... so, he wants to go... ready for this? COW TIPPING. 'Cause, after all, we're really all still in junior high, in Podunk, USA. After I regain composure and stop laughing hysterically in the phone, I pass. Seriously, I'm not really sure you should ask someone else to do something with you that will, in all likelyhood, have you committed to an insane asylum. I am a SANE pyscho, after all. And to wind up the "MEN" conversation, today was a boob shirt day. I was impressed though; there was actually one man I had a conversation with (in person) today who actually kept his eyes above my chest. LOL Wonders never cease. For women who do have a decent-sized chest, I strongly suggest having a regular "boob shirt" day. It's kind of fun to see how people act - and extremely funny.

I ordered Weeds today. The TV show DVD - not the illegal substance or the junk you pull up out of your garden. I'm still not really certain how people are able to ship something out that hasn't even been released yet; but, I concede I haven't really put any thought into it. I don't really care, as long as it arrives next week via UPS.
I'm working on a new blog article. It's about sex. Specifically, sex and the single person. I'm intersted to explore the different ideas and common themes that the single person has/deals with regarding sex. Probably because it's been an issue in my own dating life... well, I guess it's an issue in everyone's, right? Seems like we all either want it, got it, don't want it, need it, have too much of it, wondering if we should have it or are trying to get it. I think that covers the gamut. What I'm interested in is more of the side-effects of what we're searching for. What does it do for us? Does it end up being a positive experience or a negative one? Why? And, throw in the gender factor: do you think that most men/women have the same ideas regarding sex? I know I'm not breaking nobel prize-winning ground or anything, but I've got an inquiring mind and I want to know.

The good news is that Ed McMahon should be coming to my door in August. I should probably sit by the door and wait so I don't miss him. I seriously have to wonder if that whole thing isn't a conspiracy... Really. Does ANYONE know ANYONE who knew ANYONE that was ever greeted with that honking check by Mr. McMahon? I don't think so!

Finally, to round out the odd-day... I've just realized this is the second night in a row I've had no dreams. I don't remember when the last time I had dreamless sleep was... it's not common. Average every-day sane psycho signing off. Hope you all had interesting days, too... even if they were odd. I have to go wait and see if the phone rings, now. ;) Take care, folks.

Myspace Migration: Too Funny Only In Hollywood

Only In Hollywood
Its time for the envelopes, please. Tango hands out the Oscars for Most Dangerous Romantic Movie Myths

My friend Michelle and her on-again-off-again were off. Again. She complained that he just wasnt going to the right lengths to win her back. I need a big gesture, she said. I need roses. I need tears. I need Lloyd Dobler on the front lawn with a boom box raised over his head.

Another friend, Laura, had not met anyone even halfway decent in months, and was starting to wonder if her best friend, Tiny Tony -- a sweetheart who is unfortunately short, bald, and bulbous -- might be the guy for her after all. Ive never been attracted to him or anything, she said. But maybe its a When Harry Met Sally situation. Maybe were meant to be and I just havent noticed.

After almost 15 years as a faithful fan of romantic comedies, Ive come to a painful conclusion: The movies we watch to supplement our love lives are actually sabotaging them. They make us wonder why our ex hasnt appeared in our yard playing In Your Eyes at midnight even though, if he did so, wed file for a restraining order, not a marriage license. They lead us to believe that an older, more sophisticated man who criticizes the way we look/talk/ dress will fall madly in love with our made-over selves -- if it was good enough for Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, its good enough for us.

A lot of lip service has been paid to the idea that violence in films causes men to be violent in real life. Why isnt anyone calling for warning labels for movies that cause otherwise reasonable women to act like emotional psychopaths? Hollywoods take on love leaves us dissatisfied with the relationships we have, and hungry for the sort of romance that simply never occurs in nature.

Id like to tell you that this realization has caused me to throw out all my old videotapes. Into the trash with you, Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. Youve set me up for failure, Rock Hudson. Its documentaries and presidential biopics from here on in. But a girls gotta dream.
Still, its helpful to at least try to separate fact from fiction. In that spirit, Ive identified some of the most common romantic-movie traps. If you feel yourself slipping back into fantasyland, get thee to a Blockbuster and rent Annie Hall -- the only romantic movie I can think of thats both satisfying and honest.

The Sleepless in Seattle Trap
Like Bill Pullman in the movie, your current boyfriend or fiancé may have committed some unforgivable crimes, such as having lots of allergies but no nickname. Then you hear a voice on the radio, or see a face across a crowded room. Suddenly, you know this stranger is the love of your life. OK, you already have a partner whos perfectly stable and lovely, but Im afraid you will have to end that relationship. After all, in the 30 seconds youve spent with the new man, youve learned everything there is to know about him. And. It. Is. Good. You use Google, gossip, mutual acquaintances, and expensive private investigators to track him down and ask him out to dinner.
See also: Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, A Walk in the Clouds.
The Real Ending: Over dinner, you realize he has bad breath, a wife, and absolutely nothing whatsoever in common with you.

The As Good As It Gets Trap
Youve found a guy who has that certain something -- as well as a bad attitude, a fear of commitment, or just a nonspecific nasty streak. Other than that, though, what a catch. Minor personality flaws wont stand in the way of your fate. You decide that your love can change him, because thats what true love does.
See also: Jerry Maguire, Reality Bites.
The Real Ending: You go to great lengths to show him that youre worth loving before ultimately deciding that hes never going to change -- and that hes the last thing youd want to complete you, anyway.

The An Affair to Remember Trap
You meet the perfect man and make elaborate, romantic plans for the future right away. He takes your number (no need for you to take his) and promises to call the next day. When the phone doesnt ring, you dont worry -- hes your soul mate after all, theres just been some misunderstanding. Two days later, you start to grow concerned that something has happened to him. Is he under a bus somewhere? Has he been taken hostage? You go from concerned to all-out panicked. Despite the gentle protestations of your friends that perhaps hes just not that into you, you remain convinced that he was hit by a cab and rendered a cripple, and is too proud to leave his apartment.
See also: The Notebook.
The Real Ending: Three months later you see him dancing in a club with some chick in a tube top.

The When Harry Met Sally Trap
Youve never been attracted to your male best friend, but recently things in the romance department have been less than enthralling. So you start to wonder -- maybe, just maybe, The One has been staring you in the face all along. Who cares if he still lives in his moms basement? This is destiny, damn it.
The Real Ending: Prepare for an awkward, tequila-induced make-out session that definitely requires an I dont know what I was thinking email the next day.

The Titanic Trap
You just made partner and need to focus on work, but you cant get this new guy off your mind. His name is Bo, he never went to college, and he works at the burrito place where you sometimes grab lunch between clients. Your friends ask what exactly you hope to gain from this relationship, but luckily youre not a snob like them, and you know that a persons job isnt what defines him.
See also: Sabrina, Pretty Woman, Sweet Home Alabama.
The Real Ending: At a company dinner, your boss asks Bo what he does and he replies, I work the grill, but Im hoping to be put on the register soon. Face it: If Leo had made it to dry land, that relationship would never have survived.

The Stepmom Trap
None of your romantic fantasies ended with Prince Charming leaving you for his secretary. Nor did they include falling for an otherwise great man with two sizable and unavoidable flaws (i.e., his children). Dont panic. Contrary to what you might think, this divorce stuff is a piece of cake. Your step kids hate you? All its going to take to turn that around are some good old fashioned sex tips from you (to make the brats more popular, duh) and the untimely death of their mother. Your ex couldnt seem to tie his own shoelaces when you were together? Rest assured that once youve signed the divorce papers, he will clean up his act and become the kind of guy you meant to marry.
See also: The Philadelphia Story, High Society, The Parent Trap, Mrs. Doubtfire.
The Real Ending: You continue to hate the bastard for years to come, despite the fact that your shrink says rage wont help you heal. And whatever side of the joint custody battle you might fall on -- be it mom or stepmom -- the kids arent going to make the situation any easier. If youre a stepmom, get ready for the cry of You cant tell me what to do! Youre not my mother! to take up permanent residence in your psyche. If youre the real mom, the line will be When were at Dads house, Bambi never makes us do our homework/eat our vegetables/stop playing with knives.

The Pretty in Pink Trap
Your next-door neighbor just happens to be a Calvin Klein underwear model. Lucky you. Youve brought him countless jars of jam that need loosening, and even gotten locked out of your place in your cutest dress. Yet he hasnt asked you out. In the words of Journey, Dont stop believin.
See also: Notting Hill, Love Actually.
The Real Ending: Theres a fine line between healthy optimism and insanity. Theres also a reason the quarterback in high school always dated the head cheerleader -- their kind is biologically predetermined to go forth and make other popular kids for everyone else to envy. It might be smarter to set your sights on the guy in 2B with the sweet smile and the receding hairline.


J. Courtney Sullivans first book, Dating Up: The Ultimate Guide to Finding the Man You Deserve is due out from Warner Books in February 2007.