Queen of One Date Tells All

"Sam, you have to help me!" I cried into the phone.
"What is it babe, try and calm down and tell me what's wrong."
"I don't get it , I've become the "QUEEN OF ONE DATE." Yep I gave myself a new title, "Jewish Princess" was out. Although I liked the promotion to Queen, the rest of it sucked.
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, I think that kind of sums it up. I never get asked on a second date. One date and I'm out. I don't get it, no one calls again. Why? What should I do? Or what can I do?"
"Don't talk," he responded without hesitation.
"Huh?" Was he talking to me or about me?
"Don't talk when you go out with these men. Just listen."
"Huh?"
"Let the guy talk his brains out, don't compete with him."
"I don't get it, just sit there like a lump?"
"Just sit there and smile. Or ask a question."
"Huh?"
"Ask a question about him. Men like soft and sweet."
"Excuse me?" I think all the blood was rushing dangerously to my head.
"Gail, you don't get it." He was right I was faint, rashy and didn't get it.
"What about a conversation?" I whispered as I began to lose consciousness.
"Men have competition all day in business and don't want it with a woman during down time."
"Is a conversation competition?"
"See how you are? You're challenging me and I'm giving you advice." He was serious. I stepped out onto the patio for air.
"So we're talking about an evening where I'm just smiling and asking my date questions about himself? There's no conversation where two people equally exchange thoughts. Is that what you're saying?"
"That's what I'm saying honey."
"And if I do that I'll get to go on a second date?"
"That's right."
"Well, thanks for the advice," but wasn't sure I really mean it.
"Let me know how it goes."

I laid down on the patio in order not to faint. As I stared up at the dark sky I realized I couldn't follow Sam's advice. Could he really be right? I had to chose a vow of smiling silence or forever maintain my title of "Queen of One Date?" Royalty is so much better than dating.

Being Sandra Bullock

More bad news for the country and I'm not talking about health care, settlements in East Jerusalem, or a surge in Afghanistan. The announcement scrolled across my computer screen and stopped me mid click. Sandra Bullock is leaving her husband Jesse because he's cheated on her. How much more can I take?! Her tattooed boy has been out carousing. Hang on there you randy muscle man, what was wrong with Sandra? And if not Sandra who? I'm wracking my addled brain to come up with hotter and prettier than our little Oscar winner. There's no topping a hottie with a gold statuette in her hand. Cheating on fabulously beautiful women has become epidemic and personally it's detrimental to my mental health. I need a drink and a lot of medication. I haven't yet recovered from the reality of Tiger Woods sneaking around on that beauty queen Elin. She is so pretty it brings tears to my eyes. If Sandra and Elin can't keep their men home what chance do I have? None. Not a shot in hell. I looked in the mirror this morning and the only thing me, Elin and Sandra have in common is ....nothing. Maybe we use the same toothpaste.

What about the wedding vows boys? I had a feeling they weren't for the faint of heart. Those are some serious ass questions with no wiggle room. Everyone just blurts out "I do" and runs for the martini bar. Maybe Tiger and Jesse should have answered, " Hmmm , I'll get back to you" or "what if a hot cocktail waitress wants me?" Even more disturbing is our little beauties Sandra and Elin weren't even sick or in bad health so how hard could it be for the boys to stick around? And doesn't "as long as you both shall live" give you a headache? That's a real toughie for half the population. Let's re-phrase that to say "as long as I want to." This would save lying, legal fees and fist fights over People Magazine and The Enquirer in the grocery store check-out line.

What is it men want? This confuses me more than the health care bill.

"But Mom I am standing up straight" I cried.

Uh oh I'm not standing up straight. My Mom just came to Palm Springs to visit and reminded me of this. "Gail, I was noticing at dinner that you weren't standing up straight. You really should , you look so much prettier when you do." "Yes I was," I insisted as I glared at her. Apparently she either likes to nag me or it's really true because I've been hearing about it for over 50 years. Growing up it used to drive me crazy, "stand up straight" over and over and over. "Ok, ok, I hear you," I'd snip back and then slouch. I never understood why it was such a big deal. And how "straight" is straight enough? This question haunted me. She had eyes like an Eagle. Although she didn't let me shave my legs and to me that was far more noticeable than my posture. "But Mom, I sobbed, everyone shaves their legs....please." I was twelve with hairy legs wearing white anklet socks and party shoes....a really bad look and no one ever asked me to dance. Nope, my lack of dancing didn't matter, it was all about standing up straight.

I've spent years of my life ignoring her words and focusing on shaving my legs, which btw is tiring and really boring after one leg. Truthfully however, I think about posture more and more these days as a doctor friend of mine told me the way to stay youthful looking is to stand up straight. His words struck me , unlike Mom's. Was he onto something? Is that the key? I thought it was a face lift but posture is cheaper. I'm in desperate need of "youthful" and started lifting weights to stregthen my droopy shoulders. I'm trying the least expensive route first but have started a plastic surgery fund with the money I'm saving by not taking the tollway.

Mom's words were discouraging as I was convinced I had resolved my posture issues. I still wasn't standing up straight enough for her and hung my head in despair. It was then like a dream come true she changed the subject, "Gail when was the last time you had your roots done?"

Help my house is surrounded by the Starbuck's Police!

I'm a heretic. I did something unheard of, veritably blasphemous. I don't think there were any witnesses, although I can't be certain. I had to do it. Regardless of whether or not the economy is getting stonger I'm not. I'm still cheap, and unable to resist a bargain no matter how irreverent. I was in need of coffee and because the little brown beans have taken on religious significance as well as social status I always reach for a pound of Starbucks or Peets. The blends continue to confuse me but I usually pick a country I'd like to visit like Columbia, France, or Kenya and remind myself that buying the mindbendingly expensive roast is cheaper than a plane ticket, but not much. So there I was ready to break the bank for beans when I see a much cheaper option. Oh no, oh no , a brand I've never heard of at $5.99 for 12 ounces - be still my heart.

Does anyone else think coffee drinks have taken over our minds, sanity and wallets? What ever happened to Maxwell House and "good to the last drop?" Mom used to make it every morning and I loved the blue blue can. Who can forget Mrs. Folger regardless of her bad hairdo and pathetic taste in clothes? Personally I loved "Chock Full O'Nuts" or was I nuts? Now it's every man for themselves in the line at Starbucks. I've witnessed the madness and yes paid $7.00 for an espresso. I don't even understand what anyone's ordering. Are they speaking a romance language or Latin? All that comes to my mind is "huh?" Ironically no one is even happy about their order. They're angrily pushing and shoving me aside or sending back a "grande" because they ordered a "vente." I'm thinking they're over-caffeinated before the caffeine. "Excuse me but the Valium line is to the right."

I'm also wondering whether nonfat whip cream is an oxymoron? Have the real stuff for God's sake , it's all fattening. I love the order of "grande, but a little less than "grande" with latte but not too latte, half steamed, half air, half nonfat, half mocha and that's "to go." Personally I think it's all the same drink. I bought the coffee for $5.99. I'm richer but a dubious trendsetter. I stare at the cheap little bag of beans and realize I'm not ready or determined enough to buy the sad little beans again.   I am still convinced however, it's all the same drink.

This Blonde Didn't Have More Fun

Blondes don't have more fun, at least this blonde didn't. I tried, but fun wasn't in the cards. Blondes are a phenomenon I've never understood. I grew up a brunette, a color that received very little attention. Trust me when a brunette walks in a room, not one male head turns. Business continues as usual,blah, blah, blah, the conversations go on as if nothing happened. Enter a woman with flaxen hair and like clock work every head turns her way. The air is virtually sucked out of the place and life comes to a standstill while our little blondie strolls by. It never fails. Never. I know this because I was the girl with long brown hair who went unnoticed. I'm not trying to evoke sympathy, just seeking to understand this force of nature. "Hey I'm over here , yoo hoo...I may have brown hair but I have big blue eyes. Is that chicken liver?" But alas not much action came my way.

Ironically I've never been attracted to men with blonde hair. Nope, I liked the tall dark type; the fair haired boys never turned my head. They still don't although my man demographic has turned gray or bald so it's a moot point. I didn't become blonde to experience more popularity but to mask becoming gray. My Mom pointed out to me that perhaps I should do something about my newly arrived gray hairs as they made me look old. "Thanks, Mom, and excuse me while I go hide from public view." Before I knew it my brown locks were gone, I was blondish and also out $120 every five weeks. An expensive proposition for a person who takes back roads to avoid the toll booth. I've changed colorists 5 times but nothing changed when I walked in a room. "Hey, I'm kinda blonde, look over here!" Nothing. Had I vanished? Truthfully, after 4 years and 5 colorists I didn't care about the turning of bald or gray heads. I missed my dark brown hair. It went better with my eyes and neuroses.

I just became a brunette again.  I'm out another $120 but I'll make it back in toll booth savings. Happily I'm the brunette with the blue eyes who just walked in the room unnoticed.

Computer Exorcist Wanted; good pay

I'm a technology loser. I need the power of positive technological thinking. Is there a Dale Carnegie course for people like me? I can't Tweet, and have people "following" me who I mistake for stalkers. I still don't understand Facebook. I have "friends" I don't know and never will along with a big empty "wall" when I really want a couch. I receive text messages and have no idea how to retrieve them so I hand my phone to the nearest 8 year old for help. I am incapable of texting back so please stop sending messages. I just figured out how to plug phone numbers in my cell phone although my sister's name is spelled with a "b" instead of an "r." I have no idea how to fix it and refuse to call her "Teby."

I've also concluded that a demon lives in my laptop. This creatures sole reason for being is to ruin my life. I recently lost an entire file of book edits thanks to another carefully thought out plot by my personal computer demon. How did it vanish when I carefully clicked "save as?" I broke out in hives and ran around the house screaming and itching. An entire day of editing gone in a flash! How could this happen? I threw back a handful of Xanax and ate half a chocolate cake to calm my jangled nerves . I was calmer, had pimples and needed bigger clothes but still had no freaking idea where my work disappeared. "Come out come out where ever you are" I yelled at my laptop but was no match for the little trickster. I banged on the keyboard, clicked on all the icons, read every file and no sign of my work. Curses. I needed an exorcist and wondered if there was one that specialized in computers.

I was lost and had abandoned all hope. I would never understand the difference between "save" and "save as." It took a heroic friend to talk me through a 2 hour search of my programs to find my edits. My brain almost exploded in the process. I was drained, exhausted, and needed a nap,yet deeply satisfied that this time I had foiled the plot of my computer demon.

The Winter Olympics leave me cold

I don't have the fever. I desperately wanted it. The thrills, the chills ,the shaking and quaking just aren't there. I've checked my forehead and it's cold as ice. I stare at the TV clicker and pine for last summer. I sadly place it on the couch and consider picking up a good book. Who am I? I don't have WINTER OLYMPIC FEVER! Sorry NBC programming and all the folks making snow but I'm not a groupie for these games. It could be my fear of snow, as even though I'm in a desert , looking at the white stuff makes me a little rashy. I diligently tried watching the Combined Nordic Track guys trudging, and sweating their way across country, but got bored. I don't understand the "combined" part although rumor has it they jump at some point. Can someone tell me when , where and why? If they don't do it soon I'm turning the channel. I took a telephone poll during the Biathalon to see if anyone else was watching or cared. Not a soul, but my friend Rick burst out laughing and told me to turn on a Seinfeld re-run.

I loved the Summer Olympics in China - primarily because of the American men's swim team. I can still picture their upper and lower bodies. Now that was good programming. Maybe the Winter Olympics involve too much clothing. No skimpily clad girls playing beach volleyball although I'm miffed on how they could concentrate on the ball with all that sand and so little suit. I'm still itchy. The men's beach volleyball team was pretty fine also. I never watched the ball. I know the Winter games have little figure skating costumes but face it men spinning in sequins isn't hot. And why do they call it a "death spiral?" Is this good for children? I tried to watch the women's moguls. Ouch, ouch, and ouch girls; I downed a handfull of Advil in sympathy.

Who could stay awake during the opening ceremonies? I vaguely remember someone flying thru the air reciting a poem. Where were the Chinese drummers and acrobats? I decided to order out Chinese food thinking this would rekindle my Olympic spirit. I fell asleep after 3 egg rolls.