Chew On This

Yesterday's events still had me pretty jaded for the better part of the day. Luckily, I figured out why I was so upset. Last night I was supposed to hang out with my friend, Ivan, and that got derailed by James and that stupid kitten. I was so worked up about it I didn't put together Ivan never called. I got stood up. He will pay for it when scheduling allows.

During my shift I saw a perfect example of how to ruin a perfectly good date and how to wine and dine a girl straight into the bathroom stall in the restroom. Yeah, this guy was that freakin' charming. I was trying to weasel an invite to join them after their dinner but no dice. Not this time- I'll get in there, eventually. Meanwhile the guy at table 7 blew any chance he had of getting anywhere with this girl for so many reasons.

Guys, pay attention. Let me present HOW TO IMPRESS A GIRL and HOW TO DISGUST A GIRL on a date.

DO- When you are seated, make sure the girl is seated in the most flattering light, the seat that makes her shine like a diamond in an otherwise dark lounge.

DON'T- Do not opt for a seat that gives you the best view of the game or the table of young blondes across the room. You don't think she noticed? She sized them up the moment the two of you walked in. That's what we do- us women are competitive little beasts. (PS- that little eye-popping thing you did when you caught sight of the cleavage on the tall one, your date noticed that, too.)

DO- Know you to pronounce the wines and inquire about our premium vodka for martinis. Do your homework and order with confidence. This guy made drink suggestions that made her eyes light up.

DON'T- Order beer unless she does. Oh, and when you ask what imported beers they have don't use Bud Lite as an example. That's domestic. In Hell. Also, if she orders a Bacardi and Coke don't interrupt and ask if there's a special on well-drinks. Shit, does she need your permission to use the bathroom, too?

DO- Ask her what she's thinking about having for dinner. Show you're interested and commend her on her excellent taste.

DON'T- If you don't like seafood, don't order it. Also, DON'T tell her that if she orders calamari she'll have to sit at another table. And if you have the balls to say that, you better say "just kidding!" and mean it. That's right douche bag, by the time you ripped apart every food selection she made, your date had already moved to the drink menu. I don't blame her- she'd need to be drunk to get through this evening.

DO- Make interesting small talk while waiting for your food.

DON'T- Keep your eyes glued to your cell phone reciting sport stats. While you were scanning the stats, she was looking for a quick getaway. Hell, you're not paying attention, she could have left anytime.

DO- Offer to let her taste your food. He gave her a little bite of his steak and she worked that fork. It was suggestive and subtle and could have been a commercial for the beef council. He never asked to taste her halibut but it was a great set up for the rest of the night. She asked, "You're sure you don't want a little taste?" He smiled this hot smile and she got the message. Taste, yes. An item on the plate? No.

DON'T- Get angry with her for taking a french fry and then tell her your pet peeve is people who steal food. The look on her face was like when I yelled at that kitten this morning for not using its litter box. AND- when I come by to ask you how everything is, this is not an invite to pick apart everything you don't like. You prefer a sesame bun vs. a house baked kaiser roll for your kobe beef hamburger? Go to McDonald's. You're not impressing her by whining.

DO- Order desert. Even if it's tiny, just a morsel. Even better, an after dinner drink. This guy had a strategy. He promised her he'd help her eat desert- chocolate pots de creme. Then he asked for Remy Martin. Hot. This way she got to have the whole desert which is what she wanted to begin with.

DON'T- When I ask if you saved room for desert, don't tell her that the two of you can swing by 7-11 if she wants.

DO- Tip 20%.

DON'T- Embarras her by shoving $5 under the receipt on a $40 ticket. Yeah, I heard you tell her "that's way too much" when she said she had a few dollars to add. I know, you were hoping she'd pick up the bill for your slurpee and 7-11.

These are basics. Oh, yeah, also- help her with her coat, learn how to use your silverware, and for the love of God- don't talk with your mouth full of food. Walk Didn't your mother teach you these things? No? Lies. You weren't paying attention.

A New Sensation

Not sure how I'm feeling right now. Frustrated, angry... can't put my finger on it. I'll start at the beginning...

Out and about this afternoon running errands, window shopping, coffee and scone- the basics. My only priority today was to clean house, do laundry, man up and get a Brazilian wax (such a story for another day- I've had some bad waxing experiences. I'll cover that one when the time comes.) Tonight has been on reserve for the past week for drinks with one of my guy friends. (We'll tackle that topic at a more appropriate time.) So, basically, a quiet Wednesday. No drama.

Prior to the wax appointment I swung by my apartment to drop off groceries and swap out sunglasses- they're like the cherry on top of the sundae. Extremely critical. The moment I step inside my cell phone rings- it's my friend James. He's downstairs wanting to say hi and he has a surprise for me. "It's furry and tan. Think of it as an early Christmas gift." Furry, tan, and gift could only mean one thing- mink. Maybe lynx. Something fur-coatish.

I met James in college. We were friends and more often than not he was the one who called me a cab when I couldn't drive or slimy frat guys were all about taking me home. He was my go to guy that I complained to about guys I was dating/sleeping with, the guy-friend I dumped all my sexual complaints on, and on and on. He didn't even get mad when I slept with his college roommate. I think he was just more concerned we didn't do anything in his sheets. We've always had a very "When Harry Met Sally" thing going on minus the sexual tension. When I was engaged, he was supportive. When I went AWOL in Vegas for a week, he called to make sure I was alive. It was mutual. Whenever he's in town to visit I pay for lunch.

When James enters my apartment I'm ready to bury myself in former fluffy animal skin but instead he shoves a kitten into my hands. Not impressed. I don't even have houseplants. I'm not equipped to take care of a cat, let alone shower love on something other than myself. Luckily I had some leftover fish on hand from a stupid notion I got that I could make sushi in my home. (I don't recommend.) Kitten had food, kitten had water. Locked in the bathroom with newspaper on the floor in case it decided to destroy anything. James told me he named it Charlene. James didn't seem to grasp the concept there's only one pussy in this apartment that is catered to- mine.

James and I went out for drinks and catching up. We shot the shit and made small talk, all the usual stuff. Then he dropped what might as well been a nuclear bomb on me, but shouldn't have come as such a shocking concept. After all the years of him listening to me unload about my life and the details that I'd spare most any other guy, the tables were turned. He shared with me about his past few months of binge male slutting- or whatever you'd call it. What he did with this girl, then that girl, and how he couldn't remember all the girls in between... At some point I just went into a glazed over look and just nodded with a blank expression on my face.

Towards the end I told him I didn't want to hear anymore. Maybe I was annoyed because I felt one-upped and didn't have any recent stories to come back at him with. I gave him a ride back to his friend's place and told him I'd see him around. I drove around for almost an hour. At one point I almost started crying I was so annoyed.

He said that heartache drove him to it, some girl he'd met that made him feel indescribable. Apparently it didn't work out, obviously. I feel like a jealous eighth-grader or something. No, I'm just turned off some other girl stole my spotlight. God, I feel so icky right now. Not to mention I have a kitten to deal with. Like I said before, I'm not really equipped to love anything other than myself. I gotta find this thing a home.

Karma? No, life sucks.

For those of you who didn't get my Twitter announcement, or didn't get a panicked voicemail, the drama screaming phone call, or ranting email here's what happened to me today. I go online to check my bank account, which I never do, and notice 3 pending transactions in Georgia for $53, then $109, and then $110. Son of a mo fo bee-yotch. I got taken. Turns out the sketchy gas station I stopped at last week, where I used the ATM? Yeah, bad idea- my numbers got ripped and sent to someone with a death wish. I was ready to drive down there and beat the cashier who didn't check the ID on that transaction. Spent the better part of the day at the bank. For the record, the bank tellers get a little uneasy when you tell them you want justice and want to castrate the ass who compromised your account.

I worked the dinner shift and was ultimately frazzled- however, my regulars felt my pain and kicked in a couple extra dollars. Granted, the bank will take care of everything but it's the emotional pain and suffering that gets the love.

Whatever.

The Things We Do For... Hot Guys.

Here's the story...

My girlfriend Tara is awesome for so many reasons. Off the top of my head here are the top 3:

1. She's honest and has a sense of humor. She's blunt, real, calls it the way it is.

2. She's a survivor/fighter. Tara's been divorced (He was a DB who I should have his tires slashed. He should be honored she had his son. Her 2nd marriage ended in a tragic accident. Think "Gone in 60 Seconds" meets "Goodfellas"- Yeah- the real deal. This girl could survive a nuclear fall-out AND she'd look cute. Plus, she will go to bat for any of her friends, no matter how far up the creek you are.

3. She's an entrepreneur. Baller.

So, when she told me she got a call from a high school crush ten years out of the blue (who just happens to be best friends with an X) I put my listening cap on. This guy knows her story, respects her (NO-seriously- he's like OG Original Gentleman) and in theory is the best thing to happen to her as of late. So, that's cool but let's get to the good stuff.

Things had been going smoothly until Saturday night. She went to a party attended by a lot of her past haters. This could have been a serious drama situation but luckily she took my advice and wore her hair down, wore the princess-cut dress, and the silver stilettos. Yeah- hot. Everyone was in awe and loving her, she was queen of the castle... and then the Jell-O shots... and then the ultra hot guy on the Harley showed up. Baking soda, meet Vinegar- how do you do?

So they hooked up and it was amazing. He had the full package- like window shopping at the Adult Shop with a pass to buy all you can in the first 20 minutes. Not only was he equipped, he was licensed and bonded in how to operate his machinery. (Yes- I'm jealous.) Did I mention he was drop dead gorgeous? No? Yes.

She felt guilty about the guy she'd been seeing who treats her like a princess. I said to move forward, none of his business, and if he ever found out here's my rational:

She isn't married nor has it been official that they are a couple.
Life is short- eat cock- I mean cake.
Maybe he's openminded and it could be a nice group adventure? Maybe?

Then comes the catch... So we meet up this afternoon for drinks and apps (I'm all about spinach/artichoke dip- my weakness and the key to "the vault" in Elaine/Seinfeld terms). She shows me the text messages he's been sending. Ugh. Dirty. Not cool, suggestive, sexy texts. The non-imaginative descriptive texts. Turn off. What girl is going to be intrigued by "I love fucking you and cumming all over your tits." ? I'm sparing you- that's the more elegant of the messages.

It was frustrating. I kept making her pull up a photo of him, then go back to the texts... then the spinach artichoke dip came out and then I had a Mai Tai and then it was a blur. I ended up calling him on speaker phone and asking him what his deal was. Yes, I asked the "do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" He laughed and asked me what I was wearing. Tara was red and slamming her Jack and Coke. I told him if he ever called her again he'd have to deal with me and I meant that in the most non-sexy go die sort of way.

A little advice to any guy reading this: TREAT LADIES WITH CLASS. Even if there's a little freakiness there, take the high road. remember, we have your phone number and we will give it to the worst people possible. We are familiar with the male anatomy and what it is capable of- don't send us YouTube videos of how they work together. Especially if you're in the video...

Tara is moving forward with the nice guy. I'll keep you posted. Because even though you're moving forward with the nice guy that doesn't mean the past can kick your butt- or deliver a nice roundhouse to your neck. Seriously- this story isn't over...

A Spoon Full of Sugar & Bourbon

Ah, Monday. My enemy. Monday is my homework day. Here's the protocol:

Wake up. Usually by noon- worse case scenario. Today I was up at 9AM because I dreamt it was raining and I left all the windows open. On a side note, in my dream I had the F-ing sweetest ninja moves and totally kicked ass- had a suit like Angelina Jolie in that opening scene in the that Mr & Mrs Smith movie (whatever the fuck it was called).

Today at 9am I turned on the news- I skip around the news stations and surf online at CNN and click on every news lead I can find. Here's my rational- I work in an environment that caters to the political, legal, media crowd and I need to be somewhat savvy of what's going on. Ladies- smart is sexy. Don't play dumb. Smart hot blondes are better that ditzy and a brunette who can fire off a political rebuttal is downright exciting. Damn!

News up to date, by noon I make sure I'm ready to head out for food/coffee... But today was different. Last night a friend emailed me this "thing" to improve my life. Minus the religious artwork and pink stationary, here's the text:

Be intelligent, smart, and savvy.

Be thoughtful, kind, and courteous.

Be beautiful, strong, and bold.

Listen and observe.

Be positive, find the good in people and situation, build up those around me.

Do my best, do it with enthusiasm, and with a smile.

Decide what kind of day to have every morning.

Help strangers, volunteer, give.

Give more than people expect from you and give without being asked to.

Keep your word, under-promise and over-deliver, only give advice when asked.

Lose fear, have faith, take actions toward your dreams.

And here's the Katrina Whitney take on it:

Be intelligent, smart, and savvy.

Shop at Nordstrom Rack and outlets it you have to- seriously. Don't ever pay for a drink- let someone else pick it up and if you do have to eat/drink on your dime either do it at Costco or during Happy Hour. Duh.

Be thoughtful, kind, and courteous.

Just smile and swing your hips- this makes up for everything.

Be beautiful, strong, and bold.

Push-up bra, rhinestone thong, and red lipstick.

Listen and observe.

Is he single and is he checking out other girls ? AND/OR does he have a vacation home and open weekends?

Be positive, find the good in people and situation, build up those around me.

Don't settle for sloppy seconds. Yeah, you heard me.

Do my best, do it with enthusiasm, and with a smile.

If you're going to fake an orgasim, you better fucking sell it. But leave enough mystery and anticipation to leave him wanting more.)

Decide what kind of day to have every morning.

TBD by who you're in bed with.

Help strangers, volunteer, give.

I had a friend who worked at Sake's 5th Avenue and some scuzzy lady came in wanting to look at fur coats. It was slow so she was like, whatever. Turns out this lady was the sister of some crazy rich famous jazz guy and dropped $5,000 cash on a couple coats. DON'T JUDGE. Assume everyone is a celebrity or has a hot brother that you will be introduced to.

Give more than people expect from you and give without being asked to.

DON'T JUDGE. You get what you give.

Keep your word, under-promise and over-deliver, only give advice when asked.

Let him think you've only been with a couple guys... or play the virgin card (I do). If you don't ever want to see him again, bust out all the moves. That's what I call leaving an impression. On his face. And groin.

Lose fear, have faith, take actions toward your dreams.

Jagermeister, Patron, Bacardi. And a hot outfit.

I've got extra drama to report but that deserves a whole other entry and a stiff drink. Seriously.

Welcome To My World!

I figure now is as good a time as any to start a blog. I've been looking for a place to park my thoughts and I think my friends are tired of hearing my bitchy commentary on life. So, here we go:

I bounce around a lot but always return to "Central Command" aka my apartment. I've taken extended stays in LA, Vegas, and a couple little get-aways to New York and Chicago but those residential transplants only last as long as the boyfriend does. I usually get bored after the 4th date. What can I say? I love to travel and I'm a sucker for a guy who likes to pick up the tab.

Haven't hit 30 yet. Still have a few years to go and I'm determined to cram in as much as possible. After all, the Mayans predict we're all going tits-up in December of 2012. I'm not saying there's any truth to it but I'd hate to be wrong. (Life's too short not to have awesome shoes so I buy every cute pair I can when my wallet allows.)

I'm in the Food/Drink Industry. You order, I deliver- plain and simple. Call it what you want but don't call me a "server" (sounds too "master and slave" to me) don't call me a "cocktailer" (has the same ring to it as "hooker") and if you call me a beer wench or drink-dog I'll serve your ass on a platter (garnished with a lemon wedge and served with a smile.)

To date, I've escaped marriage. This includes 2 proposals, one actual engagement. I've taken a back-seat to this whole dating thing. I'm not into the whole courtship ritual thing. What it boils down to is that I'm not shaving my legs or waxing anything unless I'm guaranteed I'm getting laid. Selfish? No, I'm just a girl with priorities.

So that's my song and dance. How do ya like it?

FYI- I'm not a tech/social media genius or guru. I can barely manage my email. I set up a twitter account last night (yeah, I'm going all out) and I prefer payphones and answering machines to cells and voicemail. I'm old school. So if you have any suggestions on how to "do this" or if I'm committing "blog faux pas" please intervene and help a sister out!