Blog neglect gets a mass copy and paste

In years past, I know I’ve done this sort of entry before. I manage my thoughts with a long MS Word file with partially-written blog entries, letting those words sit until I find inspiration to finish the entry or let the topic pass and eventually delete it for its lack of relevance.

The document now has more than 30 pages, so it’s time to clear some of that out and start anew.

Here are some partial entries.

There’s a lot that goes into dating. Besides the mammoth task of chemistry and compatibility, there are all sorts of considerations.

Availability. Is this person ready for whatever you’re ready for?

Geography. Does this person live close somewhere you’re able to get to during the getting-to-know-you phase?

[Item. Example question?]

And then there’s the all-important age range.

Plenty of people tout the ‘half your age plus seven’ dating formula. Namely I think these are men in their late 20s and early 30s who are seeking permission to not just oogle hot college girl tail, but to go for it.

Yesterday’s entry made me remember the time that I called 911 because a hobo was cutting down a tree on friggin’ Clark Street. It was all sorts of lolz, unlike the time I called because a guy was beating the crap out of the other one because guy #2 complained about guy #1’s reckless motorcycle driving.

Hobos with a handsaw on a major street? Not scary.

Man punching another man’s face? Scary.

Things I accomplished in 2010:

I lost about 15 pounds.
My niece and nephew know me well.
I turned my boyfriend into the police.
I moved a few times.
Some friendships have been renewed by my oddball travels this year. > Jamie, Shika, Chad, Amber/Martin, Crystal, Josh, Jesse, Michelle/Stephen, Christine

Each time I’m approached by an older man, I always hesitate.

Sometimes it’s for purely superficial reasons. His attitude and clothing may be proper, but I know underneath he’s a less than a decade away from being my father’s age. And although I am absolutely aiming for a man who comes near my dad in terms of taking care of his family and all-around awesomeosity, a 50-something-year-old man is not who I’m looking at for a boyfriend.

Also note that it’s only old people proclaiming that age is just a number. I don’t care if you feel 25, you’re still 50.


Theme parties galore

At what age did suddenly ever party have to have a goddamn theme? Since moving, I’ve been asked to don an ugly sweater, masquerade gear, superhero tights, something Monty Python-esque, a Snuggie, and 80s clothes. I have yet to comply, nonetheless show up to most of these events.

I’m all for having fun. But what happened to just going somewhere with friends and having a good time?

My three rules for my husband

Since in my last entry I admitted to liking Nashville Star — no matter how embarrassing it might be — I figured today would be a good day to list and explain all of the other stupidly embarrassing things I also like.

I actually like the Hyundai Tuscon. It’s cute, the right size, has a bunch of safety features, includes a built-in MP3 player, had that honkin’ warranty, and isn’t ridiculously priced like so many other small SUVs.

But then I remember that it’s a Hyundai. As in, We made the name similar to Honda with hopes that you’d get confused.

Don’t think that I’m getting all made-in-America-lovin’ on you. My previous vehicles have been evenly split between American and Japanese, and I loved my Accord and my Camry with one of those big bear hug kinda loves.

Hyundai = Bad resale value.

Hyundai = Who knows what you’re getting because none of my friends have ever owned one.

Hyundai = It’s presumably inexpensive for a reason.

Hyundai = Disposable.

There are plenty of reasons to nix the Hyundai, but I’m drawn in.

Pretty, shiny, good warranty…

[smack] Stop that, Jo!

Atheist Democrat seeks someone not so maverick-y

I met someone out for a beer this weekend, and Sean Hannity came up. My head nearly exploded.

I’m completely new to dating in a red state.

I watch Rachel Maddow and John Stewart. I’m a champion for gay rights. I don’t think anyone should die because he or she can’t afford medication. I think Sarah Palin represents everything that’s wrong with America, and Meghann McCain is quite possibly the only Republican who hasn’t lost her damn mind in the past decade.

For those of you nodding affirmatively, happy to find someone who doesn’t use the word of Jesus to justify being a jerk, here are more details:

I’m a short, athletic, scientifically-minded wine drinker who enjoys pizza, the occasional Big Gulp of Diet Coke, and running downhill after a long hike.

I have no kids, no exes within a 1000-mile radius, and no drama. I understand if your exes are closer (not all of us moved here a few weeks ago — ha!), but the kids and drama aren’t for me.

Great conversation will melt my panties way better than washboard abs, but please be in-shape enough to keep up with me.

Post-Chicago, with no public transportation or inexpensive taxis at my whim, I got back into driving. It’s been a pretty easy transition, since the CTA was the bane of my existence. I’m all about instant gratification, and that’s for-sure not what you get with Chicago’s public transportation system. The waiting, the shared space, the constantly-running inner chant to remind myself that I’m paying only two dollars to travel miles at a time — I was so done with it.

Add to it that I haven’t exactly been roughing it when it comes to my vehicles. Sure, I drove what was affectionately called The Donkey, when I first came to Texas. After that, I got a major upgrade to a really smooth Mercedes convertible. I ended up relinquishing the vehicle to a family member, with the notion that I’d possibly return to Chicago.

In the gap between when I gave up the sweet ride and when I headed back to the frozen arctic tundra, I borrowed a brand new Civic. It was no CLK, but it wasn’t anything to complain about either. It had power everything, a moon roof, and a gazillion miles per gallon. Which, when you live in the middle of nowhere, is a good thing.

Then I headed off to Chicago, and I was handed the keys to a car nearly as fancy as the CLK. In an act that allowed me to maintain every shred of my dignity and self respect, we all know those were tossed back rather quickly. I again had a short forlorn trip back to the slums of the CTA.

It was at the end of my Chicago stay, when I recognized that anywhere I ended up, I’d need a vehicle. So I headed off to the dealer, and walked away a few hours later with a Honda CRV. There were other, more preferred cars on my list. However, this was a good choice that met my current needs and kept my dad off my back. After all, when you have the traveling bug like I do and the freedom to roam pretty freely, you need a lot of room, and one’s parents tend to worry. And if driving an indestructible Honda that easily holds my life’s entire possessions makes my folks bite their nails a little less as I gallivant across the country, so be it. Honda CRV, you trump the G35 for now.

Until my 1000+ miles between Houston and where I am now, I hadn’t been pulled over in over ten years. In my years away, something’s changed.

No longer am I some jerk-off kid driving a crappy car too fast in an unsafe manner. Nope! I’m a woman of a respectable age with half a lifetime’s experience driving a safe vehicle a little too fast on the freeway.

In sum: Unless I’m going excessively over the posted limit, there’s essentially no way I’m getting a ticket.

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I got pulled over by a Texas State Trooper. The posted speed limit was 80, and I was pushing it at 87. Truthfully, those extra 7 miles each hour actually do add up when you’re driving for 20-something hours. So when I saw the officer hit his brakes and cross the median, I coasted down to 80, and waited for him to catch up to me. When the lights approached, I pulled into a wide striped area on the side of the road.

As he sauntered up to the window, I took a good look at who I was about to deal with.

Dear city where I now live,

Beautiful. Great weather. Lovely people — both my friends and strangers. Nice, clean stores. Nice, clean gym. Kick-ass apartment for $900 a month. Fantastic day trips.

But for the love of all things holy, could you pretty please drive the goddamn speed limit?


Dear Taylor Swift,

My niece LOVES your new song. I’ll admit, it’s pretty catchy. ‘Catchy’ is what you do well. Bravo for that. However, I have a bone to pick with the concept in “You Belong With Me”.

It’s called THE FRIEND ZONE. Dudes have been bitching about it for eons. They sit patiently while the object of their affections complains about her love life, all the while waiting for that one day when the princess will toss aside the frogs, think, “Holy crap! My friend is who I want to smooch on,” and announce to him that he should drop trou, bone like mad, and live happily ever after.

Unlike your video, though, these guys don’t take off their ugly glasses, show up in a pretty dress, announce their love, and get their ways. Either they continue to toil with their lack of cajones in having failed to make an appropriate move at the appropriate time (READ: now is too late), or they make so many changes to try to land the girl that they come across as creepy. And, really, no girl wants a friend — nonetheless a boyfriend — who is creepy.

When the shit hits the proverbial fan, I want someone to be standing there with a shovel. When I’m sick, I want someone with enough vested interest in my well being, that he goes to Walgreens for tissues and Nyquil so I don’t have to make that pitiful stumble to the car, to the store, to the cashier. Man, even simple, non-depressing things like trying a new restaurant and having someone there to grab a fork to share dessert with me. Or share a bottle of wine. Or to teach me boy-type things that my dad didn’t pass along: cigars, football, TiVO, how to ride a motorcycle.

Although I very clearly marked that I’m not looking for a relationship beyond friendship, I’m done with OkCupid for a while.

OKCupid is having a profile competition. I’m less than impressed with the profiles vying for the $250. I guess women have as stereotypically snooze-worthy profiles as the guys I come across.

I did, however, come across this gem:

…I won’t take pity on anyone if your not willing to accept help and to fix what you have going against you.

Also, I can’t STAND when people can’t spell, or use the wrong word in context. Call me crazy, but I can’t take anyone seriously if they don’t know where and when to use “There, Their, They’re” or “To, Two, Too”.

Immensely hilarious, I tell ya.

Yes, I judge.

Chances are, with 90% of women, you’re gonna get laid pretty early on. Is it really necessary to alienate a portion of those women by posting that you’re looking for Casual Encounters? You’re a man. No shit you’re looking to get laid!

Two people told me the other day that they were getting laid off, and I was initially excited for both. Because I forget that most people haven’t been laid off ten times before and that most people don’t see it as an opportunity to move, go into something new, or take time off to lounge in one’s undies while petting a cat.

Occasionally there’s a decision to make, and you recognize that there’s no use halving a sheet of paper to list the pros and cons for an objective overview because what you’re thinking is boo-hoo no fun and what you’re feeling says “JUMP! Jump now!”

So you say, “What the hell?” agree to something outlandish, and then expect to get all freaked out and hopping on that list to talk yourself out of it.

But instead there’s a sense of calm followed by excitement and anticipation and desire.

Yeah, sometimes decisions are like that.

[23:25] queenjoeypea: I’ve decided that what bothers me about Austin is the pace
[23:26] queenjoeypea: correction: the reason for the pace
[23:26] queenjoeypea: see, slow is okay
[23:26] queenjoeypea: it has its purpose
[23:26] queenjoeypea: but there’s slow because you’re charming
[23:26] queenjoeypea: there’s slow because you’re chill
[23:26] queenjoeypea: and then there’s slow because you’re lazy

I had this boyfriend once who would go overboard with his hobbies. There was the time that he bowled $20 worth of games in the hour between his classes. Then the time he got so into racquetball that he wore out a pair of shoes in a month. Then the time he tried to be a gourmet cook (but really just dirtied every pot in the house and made dinner two hours later than my stomach wanted). Everything was mostly harmless, but it was a bit dizzying to keep up with the hobby de jour.

I may laugh about his foray into making custom bicycles, but I’m really just as fickle and obsessive with my ways of passing the time. From how-to information, to reviews on related products, to theory and opinions and techniques, to how it relates to the bigger-than-me world around, I read — no, devour — everything I can on the topic while simultaneously trying it all hands-on.

Cake baking, candle making, HTML coding by hand, juggling, teaching the cat to pee in the toilet — the list goes on and on — all at one time or another occupied large amounts of my time. Today, they merely take up brain space.

My minutes and hours and weeks and months are now all about fitness.

I’ve been working out for a good, long while now. It’s no secret that I’m really into it. Heck, I routinely recruit others to the bright side. One friend dropped 40 pounds and got her diabetes into check, another no longer has a back that looks like Zoidberg’s, one runs miles and miles per day, and I’ve got another who is looking forward to being medically cleared to work out for the first time since having friggin’ heart surgery.

It’s reasonable that when you want to know something, you go to a good source. I try not to offer unsolicited advice, but people ask me questions because they know I know my stuff.

But if you don’t know someone like me and have no interest in reading a bunch of Internet sites, who do you turn to?

With a gym membership, naturally you’d think that those employed to train others in fitness and nutrition would be give suitable answers.

The other day I got a bit wonky-eyed when listening to two women talk, only to have to walk away when a realized that one of the women was wearing a shirt with PERSONAL TRAINER emblazoned on the back.

Sit up straight: it’s like doing a crunch all day long.

___ calories, and you will burn a pound of fat per week.

I read an article not too long ago about the differences in how men and women handle the issues they encounter. Men aim for immediate resolution, and women want to complain. Neither of these is exactly the best approach. As one friend put it, when a man’s arm hurts, he might decide to cut it off. It’s not the best solution, but it’s a solution. In that same scenario, a woman will complain to her friends, her family, her coworkers, and some random woman in the elevator. She doesn’t intend to be a pain in the ass; she just wants someone to say, “I understand.” Then she gets over it.

[Side note: One day I’ll write something about each gender’s inherent flaws. A guy on a previous flight and I hashed through some stuff, and we came to the conclusion that I’m brilliant.]

The other day I had a few complaints, and I briefly made mention of one in my Facebook status before a friend’s sarcastic response snapped me back to reality. I can’t remember exactly what I wrote, but it was along the lines of how I have no clothes that fit.

I’m looking at the situation, thinking about how I hate to feel so frumpy right now, how I don’t really want to spend money on clothes yet, how I don’t even know where to buy clothes now that I’m not going into the office and out dang near every single night and don’t need to outfit myself in Ann Taylor Loft anymore, and how I hate trying on clothes, turning into the mirror to pick at my face or squeeze my butt cheeks together to gasp at the cellulite that’s formed over the past 16 years, only to have nothing fit.

So when I go to complain, I note that I’m complaining about how my clothes are all too big. And why are my clothes too big? Because I’ve lost 16 pounds since this year.

Really, is that anything to complain about?

Dear friends on Facebook,

I find it rather cute when you lie your pants off.

“My husband is the first guy I ever kissed.”
“I had my daughter when I was 15, and she turned out just fine!”
“I earned the right to wear white on my wedding night.”
“I never considered an abortion.”

Another thing on Facebook that riles me is the political comments.

I got a friend request from a guy from high school. Instead of, “Hey! How have you been after all these years?” I was told that I was going to have to change my views now that I lived in Texas.

Excuse me while I LOL and ROFLMAO or whatever else he expects me to do with his oh so cute and funny comments.


Another really got me going by sending me an email asking me why I defended gay rights. I replied back, saying I believe in equal rights for all people. To which she wrote and asked if I was gay. To which I wrote back and asked if she was trying to fuck me.

I was combing through an overflowing inbox earlier, when I happened upon my Drafts folder. From nearly four years back, there’s a message to someone talking about the notion of things happening for a reason. I outlined a little about my then-boyfriend, stating that I don’t believe in the universe pushing me in any direction, but acknowledging that some pretty cool coincidences lined up to making it so we could be together at the time.

We all know how that ended up. Ahem.

I’m currently involved in a romantic comedy of sorts. If I told you the story, you’d shout that fate, destiny, things happening for a reason, or whatever it is that you want to call it is pushing us together.

In a half-decade of near-misses, random exclamations made to unrelated parties, and periodically typing the names of cute boys into Friendster, MySpare, and Facebook, something finally happened to me back in January.

After a litany of events that screamed, “Yes! This is it!” another set of events unraveled to complicate things. With things uncertain, I took a gamble and moved. No matter what other reasons I give for moving there — reconnecting with old friends, attempting to have a social life outside my immediate family, trying the city I once called home another shot — he was my primary pull.

The things Bush said and what people have to say now

A recent article listed Bush 43’s worst communication blunders.

I fully realize that not everyone’s a good speaker and that being a good speaker doesn’t necessarily make someone a good leader either. With exception to “Mission accomplished!” and the town hall meeting where he exclaimed that a woman with three jobs was a true American (instead of recognizing it as something being wrong that an older woman has to work three jobs to make ends meet…), most of his errors are just a result of him being a poor speaker. I look at most of these in a “poor George” kinda way.

All was fine while I read the article for the little chuckle. Then I got to the comments.

And there’s where my latest coronary began.

Let’s see what the public had to say on the topic of Bush and his laughable quotes.

We have done enough of Bush bashing. Now that he has returned to his ranch, I think he was cute and naive. I like him just for his gaffes and the confidence with which he said it.

MANOJ KARWANDE, Johannesburg, South Africa

Perhaps there’s a language barrier with Manoj’s comments, but I find nothing cute about Bush’s eight years as president. The more informed I become, the more I come to disagree with. And although I’m sure he’s a heckuva guy, being a good drinking buddy (or in his case, a former drinking buddy) doesn’t make someone a good leader or decision-maker.

Would you say George W. Bush was a victim of the US education system? Perhaps an initially undetected dyslexia was allowed to go unchecked. Whatever it was, I also cringed and smiled at his solecisms. But one somehow still admired his candour and US politics may miss his sincerity

MICHAEL STUART, Stellenbosch, South Africa

Although I don’t doubt his sincerity, I will certainly not miss him being the to-go-man for making any decisions. Time and time again, the decisions made resulted in the wrong actions. It’s that — and not his verbal gaffes — that make me cringe.

Until recently, I never realized that the United States was watched and scrutinized by the whole world. President Bush was not perfect, but we (Americans) have not had another terrorist attack since 09/11/2001. I don’t have that same confidence with Obama as Commander in Chief.

P. J. Bartley, Kentucky, United States


History will prove, despite his admitted difficulty with the English language, that Bush did a lot more for our wonderful country than people give him credit for. Our liberal media has misled our people and let down our nation. America is in danger of becoming a paper tiger.

Jeremy Burdusis, Seattle, USA


God bless him…lol we will miss him.

Janet, Ocala, USA


I think people all too often mistake speaking ability for IQ. we don’t elect people for their eloquence. not that I particularly liked him as a president. I definitely think we should have found a better republican to run in 2000. but for what it was worth, the man did a pretty good job as president

Spencer, La Verne, USA


what about the great achievments overshadowed by the media’s depiction and biased portrayal of the leader of the greatest country in the free world. how about some appreciation for stopping terroism in it’s tracks. for making the world a safer place for us all to live in. there were many successes!

johnbarleycorn, warrenton, va., USA


Come on it is time to get off the Bush back. Like it or not he has done a great job.

RALPH, Pflugerville , Texas

No, Ralph, he didn’t. And I’m really, really glad you didn’t sign your last name. Pflugerville is a little too close to my house for me not to do something harmless yet irrational like pick all the flowers from your front yard.

You know what I would love? Someone to put forth a concrete list of what George Bush did wrong. No one can ever make one that isn’t full of opinion and conspiracy theory. Just baseless trash like “The world hates us!!” Really? We will pray for men like him before this thing is over.

R. Foster, St. Charles, United States

Condoning torture
Concocting legal justification for said torture
The lack of WMDs
No Child Left Behind
The handling of Katrina
The legal quagmire in the holding of prisoners at Gitmo
Civilian casualties in both wars
Military casualties in both wars
The complete disregard for all things having to do with the environment
Granting the Pope immunity from prosecution for conspiracy to cover up sexual abuse in the United States
A tainted international image
Limits to stem cell research
Not including the wars and disaster relief in the budget
The 2008 market issues (not 2001 when the economy self-corrected from the dot-com boom)


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