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.)