Posts Tagged ‘getting older’

not just construction workers.

July 1, 2010

I think I could probably write a book of all the weird things men do or love that make absolutely zero sense to me – farting under the covers, the attraction to girl-on-girl action, and naming body parts (just to name a few).

But what has continued to blow my mind more than anything over the last several years is WHY men feel the need to hoot and holler things to women on the street.  I honestly don’t get it.

I’ll be all hot and sweaty, with my hair pulled up in a ratty ponytail, minding my own business while walking the dog down the street… then I’ll feel the presence of a car slowing down beside me.  “Hey Baby, where you headed?” or perhaps even more puzzling is the “Woot woot” cat call done while the car is speeding by.

Has this EVER worked for men?  Have there EVER been any successful relationships that have started from this sort of contact?  Is there a woman out there that would respond to this with a “Oh hello! I really appreciated the way you so sweetly called out to me from your car.  No, I wasn’t aware of how nice my ass looked today, so thanks for pointing it out! Would you like to get a drink?”  Are there any statistics on this?  If not, can we start keeping statistics on this?  I feel like this is something we need to track.

You know, I can almost understand or excuse this if it is done by a carload full of young men. Oh ha ha, it’s so funny… and they all laugh and exchange high-fives.  But for a middle-aged man to do this while driving alone (probably on his way to pick up his kids from soccer practice or something), is just downright weird.  What is the freakin POINT?

Still puzzled,

Q

getting home.

June 30, 2010

The short commute home always seems like it is going to be a lot longer. It’s like this huge, insurmountable detour between you and your couch and your tail-wagging dog. In dreading it, you leave work early, take a shortcut to avoid the traffic at that horendous red light, or make a phone call that you know will last for the whole 15 minutes it takes you to get from ‘there’ to the proverbial ‘here’.

But in the end, it takes the same number of miles to get to where you’re going. No matter when you leave, who you take, or whose cell phone minutes you waste, you still have to travel the same distance to get home.

Maybe the same is true about everything else . . . maybe worrying about every single aspect of my life right now only passes time until they inevitably fall into place. I’ve always believed that.

I guess the hard part is just getting there,

Q

two times the awkwardness.

June 3, 2010

Palms sweaty, heart beating a little bit, you make your way to your pre-arranged meeting spot.  You check for spinach in your teeth, put your best face forward, and awkwardly suffer through the new few hours, tell yourself that you had a good time, and leave praying for a call back.

Sound familiar…?

Is this a date…? or a job interview? Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

As a single girl that’s ALSO looking for a new job, I feel like I’ve had enough stress and awkward situations to last the average person 12 lifetimes.

Having just left yet another job interview that will undoubtedly pan out to nothing (due to a lousy HR director that failed to screen for compatible salaries), the similarities to dating and job hunting nearly smacked me in the face.  It’s like this never-ending cycle.

Everyone’s faking it at first, wanting to be liked.  Then the one YOU actually like wont call you back and the one that is all about you doesn’t pay enough or has poor hygiene and those ungodly bright colored sneakers (you know, the ones that look like they were thrown up on by a box of crayola crayons).  What’s worse, one of you will likely wind up bored with the relationship or career in a year or two and the cycle begins again.

But the sad part is, there’s nothing you can really do about it.  It’s all part of the game, my friend.  As cheesy as it sounds, you gotta keep putting yourself out there, and keep sipping that proverbial porridge until you find the one that’s the perfect fit.

So for now, you can call me “Goldilocks”,

Q

like a fish needs a bicycle.

June 1, 2010

I never really intended for this to be a blog about my love life or a “Sex and the City-esque” retelling of my weekends.  But i suppose that is somehow what it is becoming.  I always said that I would simply write about what was on my mind, without holding anything back, so I guess this says something about my priorities right now.

It’s been four days since I’ve heard from the boy with the crooked smile.  I’m here practically sitting on my hands to prevent myself from texting him.

I won’t do it.

I refuse.

Instead, I’m making up excuses for the reasons why he was possibly too busy to do so all weekend long and willing my phone to light up any second now.

Maybe he was tragically killed while pushing a small child out of the path of a moving bus.  Or maybe he was stricken with horrible food poisoning and spent the last 3 days in the hospital.  Or maybe he is just so gosh darn into me (duh) that he is waiting even LONGER than the obligatory three days so that he doesn’t seem over-eager and blow it?

…or maybe I am certifiably insane and it is completely and utterly clear that he is “just not that into me”.

Sigh.

So now I guess I just pick myself up, dust myself off, and start reminding myself that I’m awesome and amazing and totally fine alone.  Hell, I even put my AC unit in without any help!

I don’t need no stinkin’ man,

Q

worse than mary jane.

May 21, 2010

I am beginning to think that I’m like a gateway drug – a drug that leads you inevitably down that road directly to marriage.

All (well, maybe not all… but a solid 85% or so) of my ex’s are in serious relationships and very much in love, and all (again, maybe not ALL, but most) of these relationships are ones that they found immediately after dating me.  How does this happen?  Do they meet someone and think “Oh my god.  Thank Heaven! She’s so different.  I. must. marry. her. immediately”?

I’ve spent a lot of time over the last several days thinking about what could have been.  What if I hadn’t left?  Would that be me in her shoes… smiling while I pick out a dress? moving in? or half halfheartedly attending the family functions and still looking on as he chugs Jim Beam from the bottle?

I know playing these games with myself is useless.  I know I only did what I felt was right in my heart at the time.  I’ve always believed that if there is any hesitation at all, or any question in your heart, then it’s not “right”.  I only wish that someone could look into my future and tell me not to worry – I made the right choice.

I made a realization last night that nearly took my breath away:  The one person on this Earth that still knows me inside and out and better than anyone is someone that I walked out on and pushed away a year and a half ago for no better reason than simply needing “space”.

I needed space then… but now I just feel alone.

Such is the great irony of life.

Trying to smile,

Q

i am woman… hear me roar?

May 20, 2010

It always kind of cracks me up (and kind of makes me proud) to see a really feminine women doing rather masculine jobs or tasks.

Yesterday in the city I saw a full fledged no-joke police woman with 1″ long hot pink finger nails, pearls, 5 dangley bracelets, and Marilyn Monroe-esque red lipstick.    Granted, for all I know she could be a drag queen on the way to provide “entertainment” to a local bachelor party, but I really like to picture her chasing and cuffing a perp while rocking that get up.

The things I think of as being “grown up” or “womanly” are kind of silly and haven’t really changed that much since I was little.  When I was kid, I imagined that you just hit a certain age and you start wearing pearls, miraculously become an expert at applying makeup, and automatically know how to get in/out of a car while wearing a skirt without flashing your neighbors.   (For the record, I still haven’t mastered either of these things).

My friend “J” must be more grown up than me because she is so good at doing that thing that all Grandmothers can do – cook something amazing without even using a recipe.  (How do they do that?!)  She likes to throw her ideas into recipes for me, and they always crack me up…

For example (note how scientific she is! ha!):

Pre-heat oven to 400 deg

Chop up and mix together all or most of the following:

Ground Turkey (1 pound)

Spinach (I used half a bag of defrosted spinach).  Kale would also work.

Flax seeds (palm full)

Onions (half an onion finely chopped)

2 eggs

Capers or olives (wing it….)

Garlic (3 cloves)

Cup of quinoa

Salt (wing it)

Pepper (wing it)

Chili powder (wing it)

Pepper sauce (optional- wing it)

Make the balls (they will be ball-like, but probably flat on the bottom).  Plop them on a baking sheet (spray to keep from sticking).  Cook them for 10 min.  Move them around.  Cook them until they’re cooked.  Move them around more just for kicks if you remember.

After cooking, I used a homemade tzatziki (google, but it takes: garlic, lemon juice, greek yogurt, cucumbers, olive oil) as the sauce or just buy it at trader joe’s or other grocery store

I also threw some olives and feta on top of it all for good measure.  It might be good to mix these in the meatballs.

I’m considering adding peppers next time.

Wingin’ it,

Q