Every bad song that you know the words to can be found on 95.7
How about this one? "DAMN! Wish I was your lover!" It's impossible not to listen to this station; it's like going back in time. It makes me want to put on leg warmers and a Wham sweatshirt with the collar cut off (though I never owned one of those. I did have Stray Cats, however. And I knew this girl Tammy in middle school who at least once a week wore her Billy Squier concert shirt. She was kind of gross or at least that's how I remember her because she liked this song I considered super dirty...Can't recall the title...Is it "Stroke Me/Stroke Me?" I was really kind of a prude at that age).
Ate at that Cantina place again last night. I've got to stop taking everyone I know there and remind me not to order a pitcher of margaritas b/c it's too much, too sweet and it never gets finished and makes my throat hurt. There was chuffing everywhere. Walked over to Liz's afterwards and sat on her outdoor deck discussing Joanie's wedding and a boy with a ponytail who Liz is at least considering. I told her about a book my friend at work brought in, something like Why Men Love Bitches. It's pretty elementary advice and the underlying philosophy isn't bad because the author is basically saying, Live your own life and don't compromise your time or yourself to some guy you don't know that well. After reading about five pages, I realized that I do every single thing wrong. Almost to the letter. Like? Well, some of it isn't wrong necessarily, it's just not appropriate to the situation. For instance, you're not supposed to tell a guy that you thought he was going to call and that you're disappointed that he didn't. Check. You're not supposed to invite him over too soon. Check. You're not supposed to offer to pay for dinner. Check. You're not supposed to go out of your way to see him. Check. You're not supposed to bring him little gifts or bake him a blueberry pie or fold his laundry or change the oil in his car or give him a haircut with specially made scissors or clip his toenails or offer him a massage without reciprocation or braid his hair or clean his toilet or read him Grimm bedtime stories or dedicate your first novel to him or peroxide your hair blond after he mentions he loves Marilyn Monroe or make him a paint-by-number unicorn picture or rearrange his furniture. Checkmate. She's not saying to never ever do any of those things, but she's saying that you don't go forward full force before you know someone. She uses an example of her friend whose date took her to a boxing match where there were bikini clad women walking around. Her first point was that the woman shouldn't comment or act jealous by the guy looking at the bikini gals. Her second point was that the date should've never taken her to that place to begin with and so she should never go out with him again. I have the same problem that I have had since the days of Tammy Madden; I wait to see what the guy wants and then accomodate him. Not in every situation, but often enough. And it's not just with men, it's with most people. I need to stop every once in awhile and take stock of what I want to do or what I think. I need to learn to slap men who get fresh. Does this sound gamey? Maybe, but it's also just another way to take care of yourself. Which means I will most likely never date again. But at least I'll be a bitch!
Instead, I've decided to be a rock star. I've been listening too much to Liz Phair and now need to buy a guitar and learn how to play it and get vocal lessons (as an aside, Liz gave me a box of toys and stuff to donate and Ernesto keeps getting inside the box and falling asleep amid the teddy bears and stuffed rabbits. It is too cute to even stand).
Ate at that Cantina place again last night. I've got to stop taking everyone I know there and remind me not to order a pitcher of margaritas b/c it's too much, too sweet and it never gets finished and makes my throat hurt. There was chuffing everywhere. Walked over to Liz's afterwards and sat on her outdoor deck discussing Joanie's wedding and a boy with a ponytail who Liz is at least considering. I told her about a book my friend at work brought in, something like Why Men Love Bitches. It's pretty elementary advice and the underlying philosophy isn't bad because the author is basically saying, Live your own life and don't compromise your time or yourself to some guy you don't know that well. After reading about five pages, I realized that I do every single thing wrong. Almost to the letter. Like? Well, some of it isn't wrong necessarily, it's just not appropriate to the situation. For instance, you're not supposed to tell a guy that you thought he was going to call and that you're disappointed that he didn't. Check. You're not supposed to invite him over too soon. Check. You're not supposed to offer to pay for dinner. Check. You're not supposed to go out of your way to see him. Check. You're not supposed to bring him little gifts or bake him a blueberry pie or fold his laundry or change the oil in his car or give him a haircut with specially made scissors or clip his toenails or offer him a massage without reciprocation or braid his hair or clean his toilet or read him Grimm bedtime stories or dedicate your first novel to him or peroxide your hair blond after he mentions he loves Marilyn Monroe or make him a paint-by-number unicorn picture or rearrange his furniture. Checkmate. She's not saying to never ever do any of those things, but she's saying that you don't go forward full force before you know someone. She uses an example of her friend whose date took her to a boxing match where there were bikini clad women walking around. Her first point was that the woman shouldn't comment or act jealous by the guy looking at the bikini gals. Her second point was that the date should've never taken her to that place to begin with and so she should never go out with him again. I have the same problem that I have had since the days of Tammy Madden; I wait to see what the guy wants and then accomodate him. Not in every situation, but often enough. And it's not just with men, it's with most people. I need to stop every once in awhile and take stock of what I want to do or what I think. I need to learn to slap men who get fresh. Does this sound gamey? Maybe, but it's also just another way to take care of yourself. Which means I will most likely never date again. But at least I'll be a bitch!
Instead, I've decided to be a rock star. I've been listening too much to Liz Phair and now need to buy a guitar and learn how to play it and get vocal lessons (as an aside, Liz gave me a box of toys and stuff to donate and Ernesto keeps getting inside the box and falling asleep amid the teddy bears and stuffed rabbits. It is too cute to even stand).
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