Blinging a Dilemma

There are many things that men should not wear. Pink polo shirts, plaid shorts and sunglasses at night are a few that make it up the list. Topping that would have to be jewelry. I’m not talking about a watch or a wedding band as those are pretty acceptable. I'm talking about a man layered in more pretty, shiny things than Mr. T, walking around like they represent the height of progressive male fashion. Seriously? Check it:

The nipple, nose, and lip rings:
Mouth hooks and snot rings serve no purpose other than to create an environment for infection and a means to share it. Nipple rings on a man is just not hot. I’m not really sure what any guy is trying to prove with excessive piercings other than they can poke holes in extra places on their bodies.

Necklaces and bracelets:
Only used car salesmen, Italian mafia and pimps are excused for having bad taste. The only exceptions are those metal bracelets in honor of heroes who’ve lost their lives in the war and medical bracelets.

Prince Albert:
I’ve had the not so great pleasure of seeing one and it’s gross. Maybe it’s a means of self expression, but you now have holes in your penis. How much easier did you just make it to catch something foul? If this was done as an enhancement for naughty time with the ladies, let me tell you: if we wanted something metal in bed, we have toys that do a better job. If you are worried about your size, metal additions to it won’t make it perform better. FYI.

Regular rings:
Wedding rings are the only exception. And Super Bowl rings. Your Masonic ring and 40 pound high school class ring should only be worn at your class reunions and meetings. Men’s fingers should look manly, not pretty. Remember that.

Eyebrow rings and earrings:
Really, unless you are in high school and trying to figure out who you are, big boys should just not get eyebrow rings. It’s a sign of a man trying to relive his youth. Earrings are for chicks and men who want to be chicks. If you are not either, you should just leave them alone. When I go out, I don’t want to feel like I’m competing for chick-ness with my date.

Tongue piercings:
I admit, I’ve made out with a guy with a tongue ring before. I was so busy trying to make sure I didn’t accidentally dislodge it while also making sure it didn’t chip my teeth that I didn’t enjoy the experience.

If you want to spend your money on something that will really impress a chick, if that’s what you’re after, try a sharper wardrobe. Get rid of all the Affliction and Ed Hardy gear, have all the piercings melted into a keepsake keychain and splurge on pants that fit and shirts that are not designed to give anyone with ADD a seizure. Because when you decorate yourself prettier than my mother’s Christmas tree, I’m thinking there are some self esteem issues going on.

So, I think that about covers it for this edition of things I write about that sound funny and make sense, but won’t really change anything. Peace out, peeps.

Local celebrities are a hot mess!

"Don't you know who I am?!"

I had the good fortune and opportunity to make my way out for a night on the town over the weekend. A few of my friends were going to be scattered across several bars at any given time during the night, one of which included a popular, local salsa dancing club. I had taken a salsa lesson over a year ago and was excited to put what I learned to use. People watching is one of my favorite things to do and this weekend proved to be the mother of all people watching weekends.

Before I continue, let me start by pointing out that I don't drink. Much. Being the only sober person in the immediate vicinity of a large group of intoxicated individuals has proven to be so entertaining that I want to remember all the details - so I can write about them later. There is so much to write about, I don't even know where to start.

Maybe the way people dress when they decide to make an appearance in public at night is a good starting point. You and I both know that before any of us go out, we try on multiple combinations of clothing and accessories to get the right 'look' for the night. We often enlist the aid of our friends. So, I wonder who the bad friends are that let their BFFs walk out the door looking like their closet threw up a mixture of the past two decades on them. Those are not good friends. As a matter of fact, they should have their friend card checked and their placement demoted on any friend list. You need to have your friend’s back and realize if they don’t look good, neither do you.

Girls, seriously, leggings underneath a pair of short shorts with Uggs was NEVER in. Ever. Just cause you might have seen a celebrity wear it for a photo spread in a magazine, doesn't mean it looks good in public. By the way, any kind of spotted cat print on a woman over 30 (and I am over 30 so I can say this), is called cougar print. So, if you wear it, be prepared for the resulting attentions. If you have to ask if a pair of shorts, dress or skirt is too short, you already know the answer - it's yes. those micro minis only look good on a 12-year old and Barbie. FYI- dimly lit clubs do not hide cellulite and yes, I can see it. And if you own a pair of Uggs, punch yourself in the ovaries because those are the UGGliest pair of boots ever.

I don’t want to see a grown man obviously not under the influence of his mother wear a pair of super tight plaid shorts with a pink shirt and loafers again. Whoever said plaid shorts looked good on men, lied. Also, guys, what's with the sunglasses at night? So you can, so you can ... what? Hide the signs of too much alcoholic consumption when the ugly lights come on? Or so the chick you thought was cute in the dimly lit club still looks cute at closing time? Men should also not wear headbands. Period. Or bandanas. You only look like a really bad parody of Goku from Dragonball Z or a washed up member of a boyband.

Have you ever watched people dance? You should. My friends and I happened to notice that there is a particular look that men and women get as they enter the combat zone of the "dance floor." That look, as coined by my friend Stephanie, is called a "game face." It's supposed to look similar to the face of seduction, but ends up looking closer to the smirk you get when you are not in a position to yank out a wedgie. When a person's game face is strong, you know they are confident about their dancing skill. Speaking of which, although most have some sweet moves that even I am jealous of, there are more than a few who look like their entire body is channeling Elaine from Seinfeld.

Body rubbing/checking your dance partner is not attractive. Neither is putting your face in her crotch or dry humping his leg. If you are one of those people, and you look around and see a lot of cell phones out, none of them are texting, they are recording your sad attempts at courting a one night stand through the interpretive dance techniques brought on by ingesting copious amounts of alcohol. It's not even your fault, because it obviously worked on someone, that's why you keep doing it. It’s like watching a Discovery channel exclusive on the mating techniques of the human male and female.

What about those over 21 up to middle age-ers who drink themselves stupid? I’ve watched men and women retard themselves with enough alcohol they start walking like they’ve had an epidural – their entire lower body is jello-fied. Every once in a while, I understand the need to prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. But when you are leaving with that chick, do you really think you have what it takes to make good on what you’re taking her home for?

All in all, it was a fairly entertaining weekend. I had a most awesome time and it’s great to know that I can be entertained just by people watching. I did note that no one that I met or talked to was stupid enough to drive while intoxicated and that a lot of people arrived in taxis so that they would leave in one. That made me smile because out of all the superficially bad decisions (wardrobe, dance technique, etc), the most important decision, personal safety, was taken seriously.

(Disclaimer: I wrote this in a comedic tone and knowing that I'm just as ridiculous. However, there's nothing like watching yourself through other people to make you think. This isn't about anyone in particular, if you took offense, it's not my fault you saw yourself in what I wrote. Thanks!)

Not so happily ever after.

I've been writing on a script for quite some time. As I was proofing it (without spellcheck), I found bits of dialogue that I liked in different parts of it. I copied, pasted and added a bit of filler and - walla! I have a blog. I figure it will do more good here than on my desktop since I don't know if I'll ever finish my script. ;) Enjoy!

It's inherent in every girl from the day she is born - she dreams of the man who will sweep her off her feet and ride off into the sunset towards a castle in the sky for a happily ever after. Even as she gets older and experiences heartache and disappointment, she is still hoping that there will be one frog who turns into her Prince Charming, either after a kiss or a one night stand. This is the hero who will help her find all the scattered pieces of her heart and stitch it back together, the one who will kiss the tears away into forever and who can be in a room full of people but still only see her. Someone she can give her entire being to and who will give all of himself to her. Just like in the movies.

Sigh. I would totally give my brother's left nut and right leg for that - as would most girls.

I'm not the only chick in the world who has ever had her heart ripped out of her chest and crushed. If getting dumped were an Olympic sport, I probably wouldn't even get a medal - just an honorable mention. But it still hurts and my life is real to me and I know I've done my share. Someone once told me that I should write a book about it. Really? Who would care to read about a normal girl's life in a small military town? Besides, if I did, I'd have half of Dramaville after me with pitchforks and torches denying their part in this high school-like parody of ... well, life ... long after high school. Once they sobered up enough to read it. Which could possibly be never. I don't think any of them read anyway.

My editor said I should stop looking. That's pretty funny. I get an image of myself constantly rubbernecking everywhere I go. Truth is, I'm never looking. I'm just that risk taker. I could be holding the remnants of my heart in my hand, getting ready to put it back in my chest, but if a prospect presents himself, wrapped in 'nice, dreamy guy' exterior, I'll hand it over on the off chance that he won't smear it on the asphalt in front of me. You never know who could be the 'one.' Right? And there's not just one person for everyone. There are a lot of different people that could be right for you at any time in your life, you just have to meet them at the 'right time.' I, apparently, have a knack for meeting all the wrong guys at the wrong time, all the right guys at the wrong time and all the wrong guys at the right time. I'm batting 0 for 0.

I don't think I've met the right guy. Ever. Because my right guy would never be emotionally unavailable, not be ready for a relationship, and he would be able to walk into any bar, club or restaurant in town because he won't be a douchebag who slept with half the staff and parted on bad terms. He would see through the sarcasm and hard shell and realize it was a cover for something softer on the inside. He would get to know who I am and understand what matters most in my life and that while I might not 'need' him to be here, I 'want' him to be here. I could be the complete opposite of him, but that's what he would like most about me. He would know me, let me into his life and share everything with me. Especially his heart. Holy crap! Was that a Hallmark card advertisement? Ugh. I'm premenstrual. Cut me some slack. Moving on ...

It just so happens that what I want and what I'm getting aren't the same and I'm starting to wonder if I'm wrong to hope that one day, I'll meet someone who isn't afraid of their future because of what happened in their past. I'm not fearless, there are plenty of reasons for me to turn to the 'other' side or become a nun and devote myself to the only being who will love me unconditionally - hey, it even comes with a house and retirement plan! I'd just have to give up all the perks that come with having a relationship with a normal man. Probably not a bad gig, actually ...

Okay, yeah, that's not for me.

So, what I've learned is that there is never a right time for anything. There's only now. While there are people who will stop moving forward because they are afraid of the past repeating itself, I keep moving. If you spend your life waiting for the right time or being afraid that you're going to get hurt or looking for a 'sign' from God, you're going to be waiting forever and your entire life will pass you by.

I'm a single mom, working full time at one job and part time at a passion. I have responsibilities and I have my priorities in good order. I don't smoke or drink (a lot) and I am not promiscuous. For those of you having a hard time with big words because you might be reading this at 3am, 'not promiscious' means I don't have a generous amount of sex with a variety of partners. I don't want to have to drink to impress a guy who dumped his last girlfriend because she didn't. I'm just as much fun sober as I am tanked, only I don't randomly text my family when I'm sober. I don't want to think that the only reason anyone even bothers to talk to me is that they are curious to find out what I'd be like in bed. I'm damn fantastic and it gets better, but that comes with a string attached to my heart. I also don't want to never acknowledge the fact that I am a mom and that my daughter is more important to me than anything else in the world. Whoever I give the time of day to should feel privileged because that's me considering they might be special enough to eventually get to meet my girl. That's the biggest compliment I can give anyone. I believe in hugs, smiles, making out, music that makes you think, long drives talking until the wee hours of the morning, hot chocolate, karaoke and the Tung Sing Oriental buffet.

It's like I said. I could write a book about my life, my experiences and everyone in it ... but I bet it would sound a lot like yours.

(Disclaimer: I may have mispelled a few words, used a few of them wrong and even said something that you might identify with your life. It's not about you, it's late and I can't figure out how to make the letters bigger on my screen.)

CHICK NORRIS KNOWS BEST ... ?

"Because I said so, that's why."
So, I’m talking to my friend while he is getting ready for his trip to see the parental units and he’s going on about his 14 year old niece who has a boyfriend and recently came home with a hicky. I cringed. Hickies are gross. I firmly believe they are the white trash way that some uncivilized couples show ownership of each other. But if hickies are your thing, and you wanna wear a bruise as a trophy in a highly visible spot on your body, that’s your business. If you’re 14 years old, your parents are going to ground you and you’ll probably never see your boyfriend again unless accompanied by your father with a shotgun. That’s what I know. Here are some other pointers if you are just starting to date and/or like boys:

1. Hickies are gross. It needed to be stated again.

2. There is no such thing as a promise ring.

3. Laughing out loud and in the direction of your crush just looks and sounds stupid. If he didn't notice you before, he won't notice you now. If he does, it's just to remark on how stupidly loud you are.

4. If you have no plans to tell your crush you are crushing on him, don’t tell your friends either. They almost always “accidentally” spill.

5. I realize some of you only get to see your boyfriends at school, but playing tonsil hockey in the cafeteria is vomit inducing. And will probably get your parents called. Remember dad and his shotgun.

6. Any public display of affection that includes the swapping or smearing of saliva should be avoided. Save it for a private moment when you don’t have an audience.

7. Girls, know why guys assume you are a “slut” even if you know you are a virgin? Gross amounts of PDA with a variety of partners. See why discretion might save your virtue?

8. Nice boys might not be cool, but they are less likely to trash your reputation if you don’t “give in” too soon or even ever.

9. That really gorgeous jock that you chose over the nice boy … he’s making bets on how soon he’ll be able to get in your pants. So, his friends will know as soon as it happens.

10. No high school boy knows enough about sex to make it feel good.

11. Always use a condom. There is no medical condition that physically prevents a boy from slipping one on unless he has no fingers.

12. Do not have sex if you are not familiar with ALL the consequences and are prepared to deal with them.

13. The skirts that barely cover your ass? They look better with leggings, cute boots and accessories, not by itself so everyone can see your underpants if you so much as shift in the wrong direction.

14. Girls … going commando is really just for boys. Trust me on this one.

15. Don't tell your parents if you have a crush. We are going to make fun of you.

16. Cell phones, video game systems, personalized wardrobe and the freedom to hang out with your friends are privileges based on trust, honesty and the ability to complete your chores without having to be told over and over again.

17. As long as you are in your parents house, you have to follow the rules. Yes, even when it seems unfair. One day, you will have your own kids and a light bulb will go off in your head as understanding sets in.

18. Don't lie to anyone to make yourself look good. I'm serious when I say that one lie begats another which begats another and ... well, you know what I mean. Before you know it, the lie spirals out of control and when the truth comes out, you just look like a liar. It's hard to come back from that. So, we all know you didn't get offered a modeling contract by a random "agent" in the mall in Hicktown, U.S.A. But if that's a goal of yours, cool.

19. There are no such thing as cooties.

20. Sixteen year olds should not be allowed to drive without adult supervision.

CAMERA SHOCK! Not a Love Story

"I like to order things online. It's easier and quicker and I don't even have to fight for a good parking spot."


Everyone knows one person who just doesn’t like to spend a chunk of money on something they need, but will go out and buy a bunch of small things they don’t need for the same amount of money. They rationalize it as getting more for their money. Usually, it’s their dad. If you’re my friend or my Family, you know it’s me. I’ve needed to replace my digital single lens reflex camera for quite some time. But, I’m cheap and had to milk every bit of life left in my old camera until it wouldn’t even turn on anymore. I realized now is the time I need to buy a new one. So, I set off around town to the electronic stores to see what the damage to my bank account was going to be. At $1,500, it was pretty substantial. Especially since there was a ring flash unit for $399 I also wanted to buy that I had been looking at for two years. I had to pause for a minute and call my brother, Matt, to vent about how the mark up on cameras was going to kill the economy and how ridiculous people like me are to even consider paying those prices. My brother informed me that I should look online for the same camera because I’ll get it cheaper. I was a little skeptical, because it’s a pretty expensive camera, but then he offered proof.

“Dawn, I just ordered the same camera online for $399 from ‘XYZ.com.’” Sold.

That’s, like, one third of what they’re charging in the stores, how can they do that? Was there something wrong with it? I realized I didn’t care how they could do that or what could be wrong with it, I just wanted to buy my camera for $399 because I am cheap. This meant I could buy the ring flash, too. So, I went home and pulled up ‘XYZ.com.’ Sure enough, there was my camera, pictured in a halo of gold and priced cheap just like my brother said, so I placed my order. That’s when the fantasy evaporated around me faster than boiling water that you left on the stove and walked away to do something else.

After I entered my order and submitted my purchase, I received an e-mail asking me to call and confirm my order. It was after their business hours, so I waited until the next day and called from work. It was busy. No problem, I tried again later. It was busy later. Then later after that, it was still busy. You know what, it was busy all day, I never got through. So, I contacted them through their Web site and explained that I was not able to confirm my order, would someone please contact me. I never heard from them. Dealing with bad customer service hits a nerve with me and I had to blame someone. That’s when it became my brother’s fault.

“They told me it was on backorder and I’d be waiting four weeks for mine,” he said. That would have been nice to know before. “You didn’t ask. Just call one of the other companies and see if they have it.”

Which is what I did. Every single company sounded like they had the same rude employee working the phones. There was no “hello” it was more like “yeah, whadda ya want?” When I asked about the camera, they were all suspiciously out of stock. One company told me I should call back in three to four weeks, around May or June. That’s longer than three to four weeks, I explained to them. They hung up on me. When I asked one company why it was priced so low, they claimed it was because the body of the camera was made of plastic so I wouldn’t be able to use my lenses. However, if I bought the package with the $200 four-hour battery, that was the magnesium alloy model, it was in stock and I would have it in three days. I paused. Wouldn’t that be like selling me the camera body and throwing in a $60 battery - for an extra $200? No thanks. They hung up on me, too.

My frustration lead me to up the amount of moolah I would be willing to part with for my new camera to see if I could find an online store who would not only give me great customer service, but have it in stock. My search led me to a place that sold it for just under $750 and they advertised free shipping. Strangely, the salesman sounded like all the others I’d been dealing with. Sure, they had it in stock. Of course there’s free shipping and I could have it in a week. I just had to get past the three year warranty and extended life battery up-sell. Easy as pie. But wait, there’s a “handling and insurance “ fee of $65? What happened to free shipping? I canceled that order and the salesman actually threatened to never let me order from him again. I’m not too worried.

What did worry me was the charge on my credit card for the amount of the camera that I didn’t even order. When I called to dispute their reason for charging me for an order I decided not to place, they vehemently denied charging my card. Until I faxed proof from my bank stating otherwise, when they promptly refunded my money, less a “re-stocking” fee. I know, how can they charge me a fee to re-stock an item that never left their shelf? Because they’re crooks. No, that’s a strong word … but it fits so well. Eventually, after many phone calls, I was able to get the fee charged back to my account and I received a nice e-mail stating I will not be allowed to order from them or their affiliates. I’m sure that wasn’t going to be a problem.

There was one last company I decided to order from who had the camera I wanted advertised for about what I was willing to spend on it. They promised I would get my camera in five to seven days. I should have known, when they only needed my name and credit card number, that they weren’t being quite honest. When I called back to confirm my order, as instructed, I was told the camera was on backorder for seven to 10 weeks But they had a “better” model with a lower resolution and a slower shooting speed they could sell me in a package that included a battery charger, battery and a high-speed, error-free memory card, for about three times what I had decided to spend. The sales rep said he shot with both the high-speed model I wanted and the one he was trying to sell me and he couldn’t tell the difference in speed and performance. That’s why he isn’t a photographer and all he’ll probably do for the rest of his life is cheat honest people out of their money from a telephone. That was a no go as well. Sigh ...

I still haven’t ordered my camera, but I’ve learned a valuable lesson in all of this. You see, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is, and a camera priced that low is like an oasis in the desert. It’s not really there. No, really, it’s not there as in it’s not in stock. I quickly found out that if I googled the model of camera I was looking for, there was a plethora of online stores that “sold” it for a ridiculously low price, but no one wanted to sell me one because they didn’t physically have it. Had I checked out these online stores at www.resellerratings.com first, I might not have wasted so many hours being frustrated. That’s a lot of hours of my life that I can’t get back.

See, every single one of those online stores that advertised ludicrously low prices for electronics came with a bazillion complaints about bait and switch tactics, people getting the wrong order, being charged for merchandise they didn’t order and, in some cases, not getting the product at all. Strangely enough, they all complained about the same rude employee and bad customer service. As much as the thought of parting with the amount of money I’m going to have to spend for my camera, it looks like I’m going to have to suck it up and just do it. By the way, my brother is still waiting for his camera.

CONFESSIONS OF A DIET JUNKIE

"I have been doing leg lifts faithfully for about fifteen years, and the only thing that has gotten thinner is the carpet where I have been doing the leg lifts." ~ Rita Rudner

It seems that there’s a month dedicated to just about everything. There’s National Poetry Month, National Safety Month, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month and even National Toilet Tank Repair Month. As it turns out, January is National Diet Month. I had no idea there was a month dedicated to half the topics I saw listed on the Internet, let alone my self proclaimed career — dieting.

My dieting career began when I was in the ninth grade. That was when my first set of angry red stretch marks screamed across my calves, hips and thighs in protest of the excess weight I had packed on in the first three months at boarding school. I’d like to be able to blame the buffet breakfasts and dinners and even the vending machines available to me, but no one tied me to a chair and forced me to eat double helpings at meal time or snack in between.

All the girls in the dorm suddenly became experts in the field of diet and nutrition via the television and tabloids. From wrapping myself in saran wrap (to sweat off the weight) to the raw veggie diet, the nuttiest idea was the water diet. As per my roommate, I was to drink one gallon of water a day so the cellulite will flush out of my system. Do you know how hard it is to drink that much water a day — consciously? I didn’t even like water and cellulite won’t ‘flush’ out of your system — unless it is aided by a liposuction hose.

No, I didn’t do the water diet, although I did incorporate water into my diet. Turns out it’s good for you. I cut down my food intake, started exercising and eliminated all candy and soda from my daily menu. It worked and I lost all the weight. But to keep the weight off, you have to be consistent with your diet and exercise plan. At 15, I was too young to realize that and I gained the weight back — and then some. Which began my adventures, mishaps and experiments with yo-yo dieting that plagued me well into my 30s.

Losing weight became an addiction that was fueled by the growing, distorted view of myself through the funhouse mirrors in my room. No, I didn’t really own funhouse mirrors, but I had developed body dysmorphic disorder which made every mirror my enemy. Eventually, I had cut out all food from my diet and, even though parts of my skeletal anatomy were protruding through my skin, I still thought I was fat.

Anorexia (starvation) and it’s fraternal twin, bulimia (binging and purging), became my diet plan of choice for a number of years. It was cheap, I didn’t have to exercise and it worked. What I didn’t know was that combination could have been lethal, had I stuck to the plan as well as I should have. Lucky for me, I’m a habitual cheater when it comes to dieting.

However, it became increasingly harder to tell myself that I was not hungry and did not need food. That issue was solved when I got pregnant. Food took on a whole new meaning to me and I gained 100 pounds over my nine month pregnancy. No one was more surprised than I when I gave birth and only lost six pounds and 13 ounces. I didn’t want to give up all the deliciousness over the last nine months, but I also wanted to fit back into my ‘cute’ clothes. Late night feedings in front of the television solved a few of those problems — repeatedly.

Miracle pills
Did you know there is not a single pill out there that will eliminate the need for exercise to lose weight? I became a fan of late night informercials and daytime talk shows featuring fantabulous before and after photos touting the success of various diet pills that would promote fast weight loss. But those and the supplements guaranteed to rid my body of the excess, toxic mucoid plaque that inhibited successful weight loss only emptied my wallet — often.

Workout videos
My dislike for exercise is only because I get bored with repetition. So, I invested in fitness DVDs. My shelves were stocked with every workout video from pilates and kickboxing to aerobics and the popular Sweatin’ to the Oldies and Billy Blanks series. I even tried MTv’s The Grind Workout, which should have come with the flexibility, agility and dance background requirements needed to follow the choreography. I dropped it like it was hot alright — right to the floor.

Exercise machines
Yes, I owned a variety of contraptions guaranteed to slim and firm like the Ab Roller and ThighMaster. I’m sure they would have worked had I been using them correctly. For your information, when your dad tells you to limit your time on Tony Little’s Gazelle to about 15 minutes the first time, don’t scoff at the age difference between you both, turn on Oprah and go for the hour. I didn’t feel it right away, but the next morning, I swore someone had given me an epidural because I couldn’t feel my legs.

All this experimentation has made me realize that there is not an easy way to keep myself in shape. These days, my motivation is to stay healthy. In the last five years I’ve been able to keep a semi trim waistline through a moderate diet and exercise plan. As for working out, I’ll be the first to tell you that I’d rather be slamming my big toe into the corner of a wall most days than making that trip to the gym. But, I’ve found that the gym is less painful and hurting my big toe is not going to burn enough calories to make it worth my while. I’m not about being counterproductive.

(Editor’s note: You should talk to your doctor before starting a diet and exercise plan, especially if it includes taking supplements or pills to accelerate weight loss.)