Peeing in the Haunted House

Well, Jen and Rob and I went to "Terror in the Dark" or some such thing Saturday night. This wasn't the cheesy one held in the old 4-H barn of the fairgrounds but was some privatized one and absolutely SCARY.

Note to all gals: 1. don't forget to wear a sanitary pad OR make sure you go pee at least ten times before getting admission into the "Haunted House." To make sure there are no embarrassing accidents, Jen and I recommend a sanitary pad to avoid any unnecessary problems. Heh, heh. Read on.

I didn't make a date there with any cute guys in line, or any of the actors dressed up as spooks, but nevertheless Jen could have.

Jen decided that once we hopped up on the "haunted railroad car," supposedly ran by an insane clown, that she would drop a bomb on him.

He was doing a great job at being scary and hollering at us to hunker down on the hay bale provided for us, and it was dark and creepy, and we could hear the screams coming from the other "haunted" rooms. There were things pounding on the door behind us illiciting plenty of screaming on my end.

Jen waited a beat after I finished screaming then said in the dark, "I think I peed my pants."

This broke character to the actor playing the psycho ghost-clown as he belly laughed in broken character and said in an impressive voice to Jen, "You're not even half way through the tour yet!"

I think he was impressed with her comedic timing.

Needless to say, she could have given him her number. Score!!

The Usual Dorks

It's time for a dating update, though I don't have any real news.

Just some interesting musings. As a psychological experiment, I put a new disclaimer on my site. I put that due to the outrageous outpouring of trolls, nerds, not cool guys and just butt-uglies, I was OFF THE MARKET.

I expected hate-mail, duplicitous rants about how I should just be looking for "a nice guy" aka, super ugly and that my priorities were off. Why is it that just homely guys say that? Why is it that a good looking guy never says that?

Well, the exact opposite happened. I have over a dozen emails pouring in. I've not answered any of them, just visited their websites, none of them are cute, of course.

The ones I've read so far have been nice, polite even.

I wonder what this means?

Oh, and who's hot for me these days? Still, the "Secret Gay Guy," the 73 year old, oh and the guy who's president of Narcotics Anonymous.

Whoooooweee hot doggies!

How to Spoof a Telemarketer

Fun With Telemarketers

Don't you just get annoyed whenever you have to call and deal with a telemarketer or anyone in marketing? You know, like when Visa constantly sends you those lame forms to get you to change over and get on one of their lower fee credit cards? You ever get those STUPID things that look like blank checks from Visa made out to you? Who falls for that? Plus, they hook you in with a lower interest rate, then once they got you, they jack it back up again (read the .0008 sized font, and you'll see).

Their latest trick is to send you a letter (that they're hoping you'll just throw away as junk mail). But the trick is the letter REQUIRES that if you do NOT want their "Credit Protection Plus" package, you must CALL and CANCEL it--and you only have 30 days to do it or they'll bill you the $89 bucks to your account.

So luckily, I happened to read this junk mail.

So I called to cancel.

I got someone from where I'm guessing is the Middle East and someone who's English wasn't very good. He tried relentlessly to railroad me that this "Protection Plus" program was so good and had so many perks that I REALLY, REALLY should opt in--despite my MANY polite declinations. So I said, "You want me to PAY basically for a credit card that's normally free. Is that what you're saying?" He then proceeded to tell me more than I ever wanted to hear about these useless perks.

I was getting bored, and very annoyed. Then a prank hit me.

So it went like this:

Marketer: So we have many benefits. There's the "Fly 80,000 miles program" and you get a free latte or Crispy Kreme, only in available locations only. That is just one of many perks.

Me: Perks? Will your credit card pay for my health insurance? You know. Pay it FOR ME every month? I'd like to not have to pay that anymore. That would be a neat perk if you could pay it for me.

Marketer: (uncomfortable pause) Well, I don't think so. We're a credit card company.

Me: How about pay my car insurance (I don't even own a car). That'd be neat--what a perk!

Marketer: Well, I don't think it'll pay that for you. We're a credit card company.

Me: How about this perk? How about Visa sending me a coupon for $500 in groceries. Can they do that perk?

Marketer: (trying to get off the phone) We're a credit card,

Me: (interrupting) You could send me a gift certificate to J.C. Penny's then. I need some new school clothes, and that'd be a cool perk. How's that?

Marketer: We're a credit card company, Ma'am.

Me: (acting astonished) a CREDIT CARD company? You're a credit card company?

Marketer: Yes.

Me: Well, maybe you ought to cancel my "Credit Protection Plus," if you can't give me any prizes.

Needless to say, it took him only about 5 seconds to cancel my card and let me off the phone. See, why get mad at credit card companies when you can have fun?

Another time I pretended to be a five year old girl answering the phone for her mother while she was in the shower, and there was the time I pretended like I was mentally challenged. Fun times, but that's fodder for another time.

Buh-Bye 24-7 Program

Saturday night, I had the party I've been waiting 18 months to throw.

The 24-7 Program has re-located OUT OF MY NEIGHBORHOOD!

If you recall, it was hell being here, but now they're gone (buh-bye career drunks and druggies, buy-by all that traffic). The turn out for the celebratory party wasn't as good as I expected with 6 people not RSVP'ing, but Jen, Rob, Paula and I had a good time anyway.

The news team stopped by with a camera, and I wished more people had shown up, but all was well. I didn't bother to watch myself on TV last night. I look like shit on TV anyway.

But the 24-7 Program is gone. Thank GOD!

Here's what I've learned:

1. Most people are lazy though good-intentioned and while they might volunteer to help you with your community project, expect to have most of the burden fall upon your shoulders.

2. I will NEVER again take for granted how lovely it is to have a quiet neighborhood.

3. I will NEVER again take for granted how lovely it is to hear the crickets, wind blow through the trees, or simply the sound of nothing.

4. Nothing works better for your enemy to see you mean BUSINESS than the threat of a good old fashioned, American lawsuit. Hate to say it, and I wish people did the right thing simply because it's the right thing, but they don't. Many people ONLY do the right thing when you threaten them with a lawsuit. But you can only play that card last. You must go through all other options first to give the enemy the benefit of the doubt.

5. A lot of people don't want to get involved not because they're "busy" as they tell you but because they're embarrassed by their ignorance when it comes to community/state/federal laws, civil disobedience and an overall fear of "big brother."

I'm going outside now in my P.J's to have a weekend cup of joe and enjoy the quiet. You don't know what you have, until you've lost it. So drop what you're doing and go sit outside and sit a spell. Trust me. It's easy to take that for granted until it's gone.

Red Flags: How to Recognize NPD

Ahhhh, while cleaning out my inbox (some 2,000 messages) I found this one from The Thing, also known as "He Who Shall Not Be Named," or "The Flaw."

I read two good books which have given me an understanding of him, and the nasty road he took me down. Narcissistic Lovers: How to Recognize Them and Move On and How to Recognize a Dangerous Man Before You Get in Too Deep.

Probably the most dangerous pitfall anyone can get into with someone who's a emotional vampire/or has NPD, is letting them make you go too fast.

Having said that, read his old email.
__________________________________________________________________
Natalie Jane
(he did this in 18 font in some old weird script)
There it is, my love. I will have this as the center piece inked into my arm. With that in mind, reference your other email, I will not throw in the towel on this relationship. I will give you and us all I have, all that we deserve. I intend for Natalie and Scott last forever.

Natalie Jane, I am content with you, and content is not something I've been - ever. You are everything I've ever wanted in a woman, best friend, and partner. I will make you happy and treat you the very best that I can. I do love you very much.

Did I mention I was looking at diamonds while I was out this weekend?

I'd really like to get "our place" somewhere in your neck of the woods someday soon. I may not be there much of the time, but it will be ours. I love the idea of having a home to go to with a beautiful woman already there waiting for me.

Thank you for the gift box. It was so you and that's what I love most about it. I have the card displayed next to the other one you sent me. The perfume on it permeates the air when I sit near by and I yearn for you.

I love you, Natalie Jane.

_______________________________________________________________________________
Red flag number 1: he wrote this after only one date when he flew out here to meet me.
2. who falls in love with someone after one meeting?


Care to identify any other red flags? As well as the unintentional comedy of this?

Summer Dork Shake Down

It's almost the end of summer. Having said that, it's time to re-cap my dates over the summer, and give you a complete list of jackassery. This summer there was a grand total of 4 dates. And here they are! Enjoy!

Spitter, Speed-Date Fiasco, Bad Breath and Secret Gay Guy.

Spitter--
Spitter was a fix-up from my ex boyfriend's ex girlfriend. Yes, a bad idea to have your ex's ex-girlfriend set you up. I was suspicious from the get-go, so I brought a gal-pal with me. As soon as he walked over to our table, I knew it was a no-go: 1980's glasses, and alarming gray-haired mullet that turned plenty of heads as he approached us. But the worst was yet to come. He must have had a grand cache of spittle, for as he was talking, a spot of spittle shot out of his mouth like a rocket and landed on my cheek, then two sentences later another one whizzed through the air and hit my other cheek. What do I do, I thought. If I wipe it off, he'll know he spat, and I didn't want to embarrass him. If I leave it on my cheek, I might retch. I waited a few seconds then sort of brushed my cheeks with the back of my hand making it look like I had an itch when he did it yet again. This time the spit landed on a nacho, just as I was about to put it in my mouth, then again and again. This happened no less than a dozen times. I declined eating any more of our mutually-shared nachos. No more than 15 minutes into the date, Spitter stops talking to me, talks only to my gal-pal then asks her for her number under the excuse that "maybe we could all share our numbers and go out sometime." Whatever. A guy who hits on your friend and gets her number as he's showering you with spit when he's supposed to be meeting you, pretty much says it all.

Speed Dating Fiasco--
Remember that post earlier this summer? Did I mention I occasionally see the one "date" I had walking to the jail next to my house every day? Apparently, he neglected to tell me that he must check in with his parol officer each day. What a catch!

Bad Breath--
Bad breath was also a set-up. Like Spitter, you can gather why. Firstly, I had my reservations all along, for he's considerably older than me, and I'm not sure how I feel about dating men two years younger than my mom. And it's extremely difficult to be a good listener when waves of toxic fumes are blasting your nose and eyes. Hello, Altoid? I had to breath out of my mouth the whole time which made talking rather difficult. The frightening thing was that he was sitting about four feet away. If his breath was that bad at such a distance, what would it smell like under your nose?

Secret Gay Guy--
You know, back in the day, like 30 years ago in the 1980's, it was pretty common to be closeted about your gayness. Not so much now. Except for Secret Gay Guy. I met him online, and after a few emails, he called me. Despite the super feminine slightly British voice (think Nicole Kidman on estrogen), I guess the clincher for me was that for no reason whatsoever he had to tell me three times that he was NOT gay. Yet, I had not asked him if he WAS gay. What's that old Shakespeare quote, "You doth protest too much." ?? WTF??

So that's my summary of summer dating. Don't worry, I'm praying for us all.

Up in the Air and H1-N1

Yippee! I'm finally back home, and on blogger again. Sorry I was gone so long, but where I've been this summer had no internet connections.

June left me all over the map, flying to Minneapolis then the Quad Cities to see my parents then back home to Rapid again then off to Manitou Springs, Cortez, Mesa Verde then home again.

So that leads me to blog about the nightmares of flying, layovers, missed flights and the rank people you get stuck sitting next to.

Delta's flight leaving Rapid was one hour late, of course making me miss my connecting flight to Minneapolis. The half wit at the desk here in Rapid, unbeknownst to me, re-booked me onto a flight that wasn't supposed to leave for another 4 hours (as if I'd want to hang out at the Rapid City airport for a couple hours). Once I figured out that he screwed up my flight, I angerily marched back up to the desk asking to talk with a different flight representative who got me on the next flight one hour later, BUT with an 8 hour layover in Minneapolis.

What do you do waiting at the Minneapolis airport for 8 hours? Well, catch the H1-N1Flu of course, as I became gravely ill 48 hours later.

But for now, I must rant on my final beef with flying. What is it about stinky people on small flights? Is it too much to ask for that someone take a bath before a flight, take a breath mint or not eat jumbo extra bean burritoes before sitting next to me?

Two of the Rankest Types of People to Sit next to you on a Flight:

1. The "Shower? Who needs to shower, not me!" type:

This cat next to me hadn't washed his hair in maybe a month or two. Even though he sat across the aisle from me, I could smell it, an odd odor similar to rusty tin cans, of bins of old grease sitting outside of fast food chains. I could actually see the cabin lights sparkling off the grease built up in his hair.

2. The, "I had beans for lunch and forgot my Bean-o" AKA, "The Farter."

On my second flight, I was pleased to see I would sit with a man my age who appeared to be well shaved and clean smelling. That is, until he farted. The first time was an alarming experience since he held it in until our stewardess was there asking us if we'd like a soda, my eyes watering with a Kleenex over my nose. "The farter" usually does this, waiting until multiple smellers are within his vicinity so that everyone else will think YOU farted, not him. I took solace in imagining him set on fire. The second time he farted was after we'd landed. He'd hopped up to grab his overhead bag. Then after he got it, I moved one seat over, still seated, about 4" from his butt, when he farted again. I actually wondered if he had pooped his pants.

Moral of the story?
I see they have travel sized bottles of Febreeze at the grocery store. That will certainly take care of the problem.

Feel like spraying me with fart-gas? Why go ahead. I'll be armed (squirt-squirt). Beware!