Drama Queen

It doesn’t seem like it’s been 19 years since Breana 's mom dropped a 9 lb. 12 oz., 21 1/2 inch bundle of joy on the world, but it has been. My Drama Queen was supposed to be a King. Two ultra sounds said boy and I still remember standing in that delivery room on the night she arrived like it was yesterday.
My daughter busted her mom’s tailbone on the way out and I called my mom (who was home) and said, “It’s a girl.” She said, “You mean it’s a boy.” I peered back over the top of the gaggle of doctors and nurses gathered there, took one more good look, picked the phone back up and said, “Nope. They were right. It’s a girl.”
That was how my daughter entered the world. In April she turns 20 and I’m feeling kind of old. How the hell did that happen? How did she go from adorable little angel to hormonal teenager so quickly?
I wish I had an answer to that question. I really do. I also wish I could figure her out.
I don’t want my daughter to have the same experience I had. I want her to have fun, make friends and feel like she’s a part of something. That’s one reason I really hope she makes the tennis team.
She has a lot of improvement to make to her tennis game. When I got the coach on the phone to inquire about tryouts and summer practices, I was straight with him. “She’s on the down side of mediocre,” I said. “But she wants to play and she’s willing to put in the work to be a good player.” I guess we’ll see what happens. School starts Wednesday and they’re supposed to find out Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday. Fingers crossed.
I’m not sure what to expect from a hard headed teenager loaded with hormones, emotions, sarcasm, a bit of mischief and who has a dad like me. It actually sounds scary as shit. It’s gonna be an interesting ride, that’s for sure.
I feel like I should apologize to my daughter for the life I’ve given her. I know I could have done worse, but I know I could have done much better. She’s got a bi-polar mom who is in and out of her life and she has a sarcastic dad who can be kind of a dick at times. It’s not a huge hole she has to climb out of, but she definitely has an uphill battle. 

I blame Bieber

It’s Wednesday night and I’m sitting on the couch watching Criminal Minds when my adorable 19-year-old Drama Queen walks in the room and asks (right in the middle of the show), “Do hermaphrodites have chick dicks or do they have a mangina?” WTF???

“Uh…excuse me?” I replied. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I said, do hermaphrodites have chick dicks or do they have a mangina?”

I explained that I heard her the first time and tried my hardest to not laugh out loud. I need you all to understand that these are words she did NOT learn at home. I swear to God. I didn’t teach her those.

I think Lady Gaga has brought hermaphrodites back to the masses. In the 80′s we had the Jamie Lee Curtis craze and today it’s Lady Gaga. I’m not sure where we ever settled on Jamie Lee and her junk, but I can tell you that Lady Gaga is one weird dude.

I don’t imagine that there would be too many positives to carrying both sets of gear, but when someone tells you to, “Go fuck yourself,” you can say, “OK. Now or when I get home?”





I tried to continue watching the show, but the reality is that I started wondering what the real answer to her question is.

I’m not sure how you should properly ask a person if they are a dude or a chick? Do you ask, “Do you carry dual citizenship?” Or is it more appropriate to ask, “Do you have both an innie and an outie?”

Personally I think a direct approach is best, however I think you can’t just come right out and ask it. You need to compliment him,shim,her the person first. Something like, “You know, you have a very nice set of breasts…word on the street is that you’re packing both sausage and the bun. Am I right?”

If a hermaphrodite was a talented basketball player, would they play in the NBA or the WNBA? If they were a golfer, would they have to qualify for the PGA or the LPGA? If they played pro tennis are they more likely to be in a final against Rafael Nadal or Serena Williams? OK. Maybe Serena isn’t a good example. Have you seen the guns on, uh, her?

Kids ask the weirdest stuff sometimes, huh? I have no clue what brought this on, but I’m guessing Justin Bieber had something to do with it. Why blame Justin Bieber? I don’t know. Osama is dead, so it seemed like the right move.









P.S. The truth is that there is nothing funny about being a hermaphrodite. It truly has to be a tough way to go through life. I couldn’t imagine the ridicule and harassment one would get in high school and in the real world. I would not wish that one anyone. Seriously.



P.S.S. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Osama Bin Laden. Duh.

Too Much Time On My Hands

Is it any wonder I’m not crazy?
Is it any wonder I’m sane at all?

Styx

Disclaimer for anyone below the age of 40: Yeah. This video is real. This was cutting edge stuff in 1981 If you’ve never watched a video in one of my blog posts, please check this one out. Normally I put it at the end, but in this case, you should probably watch it right where it is. If you have dizziness or balance problems, view with caution.

If I told you the photo was the cast of the 1970′s version of Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, would you even question me? I didn’t think so. If it were true, the guy on the far right would be the interior decorator and the dude next to him would be the fashion/style expert. The one on the far left looks like he’d be some tekkie guy who gets angry at having to repeat himself to morons who just don’t get this cassette tape technology. His catch phrase would be, “It’s not rocket science, people.”

The guy in the front has creepy eyes and they look like they follow me wherever I go. It makes me feel all dirty to have him watching me. The blondie hanging out above him looks like he questions everything. “Really?” He would ask. “You’re using spaghetti? Why not use a wider noodle?” Then he would look at the camera, smile and wink. *shudder*
I’m gonna go ahead and ask the obvious question. Do those two blonde dudes in the picture look just a little too comfortable in that pose? I’m not saying they’re into each other, but I’m also not saying that it’s wrong if they were. All I’m saying is that they look like they’ve done that pose before. Like, maybe on the previous year’s Christmas cards. What do you think?
I had another song picked out for today, but reading Chopper Papa’s touching CB-rap post from yesterday got me thinking a bit. At the end of the thought process, this song is what was left standing. It’s hard to believe that a band full of dudes who look like pussies, could come out victorious over the other bands. Well done, guys. *Fist bump (with a BOOM)*
This blog post was intended to be a humorous, happy look at my life, but after watching the video, I decided to scrap that shit and just make it a running mockery of the whole damn thing.

Let’s start right at the beginning and the early 80′s-era CGI they have going on. I remember being a high school freshman and thinking those stupid looking things coming off the performers was cool and cutting edge. Now I find it old and sad. Not completely unlike my life from time to time.
There. I did it. I added something personal and poignant. Not it can officially be called more than a simple mockery. This post now has a little meat on ‘dem bones. Back to making fun of the Days of Disco.
That green jumpsuit was never cool to me. I would guess most people would agree with me on that and on the fact that the dude kind of looks like a pre-op trannie. He could pass for a chick with no cans. I guess. His buddy in the white uniform looking thing at least looks kind of manly. Kind of. Actually, no he doesn’t. His mullet is stupid and that thing he’s wearing looks like what I imagine the GLEE boys wear to bed at night.
Also, the guy wearing the GLEE outfit keeps bending over slightly at the waist and getting these looks on his face that make it appear as if he’s getting something jammed into him from behind. I’m not sure who is doing the jamming or what is being jammed, but it’s
kind of disturbing.
I think Dennis De Young is a great keyboard player and an excellent vocalist, but why does he have to do his stretching on stage? He is doing windmills, right? Also, what is he shooting at? Is there a mouse running across the keyboard? Bro, that move barely worked in School of Rock and it definitely does NOT work for you.
My (probably) final criticism of Mr. De Young is that the, “Pointing to the drummer” move is supposed to be dramatic and cool, but when you do it two beats before he starts playing, it looks stupid. And so do you. And those Bee Gee clothes aren’t helping your street cred at all. In fact, the combo of vest with carnation takes most of it away.
I started counting the “O” faces the dude in white kept making, but after the third one I felt kind of creepy and like I needed a shower, so I stopped counting. I’m guessing he made it somewhere around seven times. Maybe six. No matter how many he actually did, one was too many. It’s not a good look, bro. Seriously. No one thinks that’s sexy.
Next time green jumpsuit goes cruising he should ditch the arm thing. It’s distracting and also completely lame. That move might get him noticed in West Hollywood, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.
I’m not sure what ship the drummer works for, but you can be damn sure it’s not The Love Boat. Captain Stubing would never put up with that shit. Dude looks like he’s probably first mate on the Chum Guzzler. Yes, that was an Archer reference. Thanks for noticing.
There’s not much you can say about a bass player with a beard in a tuxedo. It was kind of Standard Operating Procedure back in the day. Although, I will give him bonus points for the updated tuxedo and not rolling with one of those powder blue varieties with the ruffled shirt. Also, the short beard is a nice break from the likes of ZZ Top or Allman Brothers.
As cool as his look is, that dance he did with De Young was
a bit, kind of, completely messed up. It served no purpose other than to creep me out. It was wrong. Just wrong.
That last half of the video more or less speaks for itself. Dude in green jumpsuit dry humps guy in GLEE jammies, guy in jumpsuit points to his wrist repeatedly as he sings, “Tick, tick, ticking away,” and mullet strikes out with the ladies. Until he whips out his plastic. All pretty standard stuff for it’s day.

Sunday in So Cal

“I’m going to take a Miguelito,” he replied, while holding a roll of toilet paper skyward.

It’s 8:55 PM (Pacific) and I’m sitting at my desk, preparing to write this blog post. To my right sits a nearly full 32 oz bottle of Coke Zero.To my left sits a just opened 16 oz container of freshly made hot salsa from Vons. Slightly left of the salsa is a bag of freshly made chips, from Las Brasas Restaurant . This has nothing to do with the actual blog post, I thought I would set the scene for you. Enjoy.



I dig Sunday mornings. I generally have nothing important to do, so now that my daughter is a teenager who loves to sleep til noon, I can almost always sleep as late as I want.

Today has been one full week since and I decided to do something. We took Shadow to the Dog Beach at the Huntington Cliffs. I prefer to do it without Drama Queen because quite frankly it’s more fun when I can simply relax and not have to watch for her and see what she’s doing. I say that to illustrate this next thought.

We were at my mom’s last night (Sat night) and I found out my 4 year old nephew was spending the night at my mom’s with Drama Queen. For some reason I blurted out, “Hey. Would you two like to go with me tomorrow morning to Dog Beach?” Of course they did. I told Drama Queen she was responsible for watching her cousin, but I knew in my heart I was going to have to watch Shadow  and the two kids. Sometimes I’m a real dumbass.

I told them I would pick them up at 9 and I rolled in at 10 after to find neither child ready, however, my mom did make me a pancake and gave me two Brown N Serve sausages. I can’t stand those fake tasting sausages, but my mom has bought them religiously since I was a kid, so kinda hard to say anything now. Once I scarfed down my breakfast, I threw his car seat in the car and we rolled down Seal Beach Blvd and made the left on to PCH.

It’s about a 10 minute drive down Pacific Coast Highway and I did it with the windows down and KROQ cranking on my stereo. We passed some of my favorite places–Kanvas by Katin (a surf shop) on the left. Across the street on the right is Taco Surf and three doors up from that is the Harbor House Cafe–can you say 6 egg omelets accompanied by toast and potatoes? Another mile up on the right we passed Mother’s–a cool little biker bar–and after that it was an ocean view the last five minutes. (Before that, the ocean was right behind the just-mentioned businesses.)

Parking at the Huntington Cliffs is a bitch on the weekend, not only because it’s a mile of beautiful beach that allows dogs to run off leash, but it’s also a primo surf spot, especially for long boarders. We cruised the first lot and found nothing, so we drove a block up and entered the second (and final) lot. I saw a couple of 50-ish surfers come to their car, so I pulled aside and was waiting for their spot. We sat there almost 10 full minutes and finally one of the guys (the one I previously made eye contact with on two occasions) walks up and asks if we’re waiting for his spot and I said I was. He said, “Oh. Sorry. We’re not leaving for about a half hour. We’re waiting for our buddy.”

I said I bunch of four letter words under my breath and found a solo surfer doing the famous, changing-from-wetsuit-to-shorts-under-a-towel-in-the-parking-lot trick. It’s something any male surfer has done at some point in their life, and many do it on a regular basis. I know I did when I was thinner and still surfed.

I asked this kid if he was leaving and he said he was. Three minutes later we were parked and I was getting Shadow out of my Journey. As we walked down the path towards the hill I looked at both kids and made sure Drama Queen was keeping an eye on my nephew, ( who I will name Truck Boy because of his love for things big and motorized) and she assured me she was. We got down on the beach and walked around some big rocks and onto open sand. About 2 blocks down I heard my nephew telling his cousin that his feet hurt from walking on the shells.

Like any good uncle, I turned around, looked at my daughter and said, “Help Truck Boy put his shoes on.” We both looked down and saw that he had no shoes in his hands. I looked at my daughter and said, “Where the hell are his shoes?” She said she didn’t know, so I rolled my eyes at her (payback’s a bitch, huh?) and asked him where his shoes were. He turned the direction we just came from and said in a four-year-old voice. “Dey over dare.”

I asked him if he took them off when we got onto the sand and he nodded his head yes. I looked over at my daughter and asked, “And I suppose you never noticed him sitting on the ground and taking his shoes off, did you Nanny McPhee?” ( I was going to go with Mary Poppins, but Nanny McPhee seemed hipper and cooler).

We hiked back down the beach and retrieved his Sandals. As we neared our destination, Drama Queen asked what we would do if we didn’t find them. I said we would go to the car, stop at B of A, get money out of her savings account and give it to my brother to buy Truck Boy some new shoes. She didn’t dig that idea and was pretty pleased that we found the shoes.

I opted to end the adventure at this point and we stopped back by my mom’s to grab my nephew’s stuff and to grab D. Q.’s bathing suit. We were taking him home, then heading to a friends house for burgers and brews in his backyard. After we dropped Truck Boy off, Drama Queen announced that she was kind of hungry. I was too, so we swung by the Jack in the Box up the street for a couple of tacos. I approached the drive thru menu and said, “Hi. I’d like two tacos and that’s all.” The genius on the microphone replied, “Would you like a large drink for only $1.00?”

What the fuck? Didn’t I end by saying, “and that’s all?” I guess I understood that to mean that I wanted no other items, thus the gratuitous offer of a refreshing beverage for only a buck was thoroughly unnecessary. Not to mention, annoying. I politely said, “No thanks. I’m good,” and drove to the first window as was requested.

I got to the window and was greeted by some 17 year old GLEE wannabe. “That will be $1.08, please,” he said with way too perky a tone. Yeah. Two tacos for 99 cents. They’re rad.

I hand him the money and he asks, “So. Have you enjoyed your trip so far?” I looked at him like he was on crack and with a completely sarcastic tone said, “Uh…the landscaping between the menu and the window was lovely. Yeah. I guess I am.” He smiled that big GLEE smile of his and asked me to drive to the next window.



We each killed a Jack in the Box taco (which are extremely greasy and totally tasty), as we headed to 7-11 for Slurpees. After pouring ourselves two refreshing treats, we cruised North one city into Highland to chill with The Kings Fan and his familia. He asked me to grab some beer and said to get whatever was on sale. I stopped at Von’s (a local grocery chain) and perused my selection. I as kind of feeling like Mexican today and I had my eye on Pacifico and Victoria. For some reason, I walked out with a 12-pack of Canadian. 

It’s been two years since I’ve seen my friends and I really missed them. I first met the Kings Fan about 17 years ago when we both lived near Palm Desert. It turns out, we lived a few blocks apart and we got to know each other. His son is three months younger than Drama Queen and he has a daughter who turned two in April. I’ve only seen her once before today.


It’s funny, from the age of five, Drama Queen and their son (who I referenced in one of my first blog posts as “G.I. Joe) have been great friends. They’ve had sleepovers and done all sorts of stuff together, yet today it took both of them more than an hour to say a word to anyone. It was weird, yet cool to have a quiet hour from my yappity daughter.

You know those inside joke things that some people have? Well, about four years ago, Kings Fan invited me to go off roading in Mexico with some of his Jeep buddies. One of the guys who went has a son named Miguelito. This kid was a total shit (keep this last word in your brain for a few more sentences).

Miguelito got on everyone’s nerves really quickly and by the second day, the kids dad was walking towards the bushes, when someone asked where he was heading off to. “I’m going to take a Miguelito,” he replied, while holding a roll of toilet paper skyward. This afternoon, my friend said something about, “Taking a Miguelito” and suddenly we were both laughing, while the two kids stared at us like we were morons.

AM Radio

Yeah when things get stupid and I just don’t know
Where to find my happy
I listen to my music on the AM radio
Everclear

I’m old. Ish. How can you tell? I remember Beta. I’ve also listened to 8 tracks. I remember when Leif Garrett was cool. Shaun Cassidy too.
For those of you too young (and therefore not there) or those who were stoned during the 70′s, let me tell you it was OK. It could have been better, but it could have been worse.
The VCR and the DVD
There wasn’t none of that crap back in 1970
We didn’t know about a World Wide Web
It was a whole different game being played back when I was a kid
Technology is amazing. It really is. In my 47 years I’ve listened to music on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, CD and MP3. I’ve listened to music on a hand-held radio with a big ass antanae and I’ve watched videos on my cell phone. Speaking of phones, I remember when we got our first push button phone. I thought we were all rich and shit. Dialing a rotary phone was for losers.
I’d be in bed with the radio on
I would listen to it all night long
Just to hear my favorite song
You’d have to wait but you could hear it on the AM radio
Yeah, you could hear the music on a AM radio
I can still hear Mama say “Boy turn that radio down!”
I remember the mid-to-late 1970′s I would have my radio tuned to either 640 KFI in Los Angeles or The Mighty 690 out of San Diego. That’s where they played the good music. You listened and you waited for your favorite songs. I would have it playing as I fell asleep and that’s what I woke to as well.
When I was 12 or 13 I received a small boombox with a cassette player that would actually record off the radio. How freakin cool was that? I could save money, make my own tapes and take advantage of the new breakthrough in audio technology–the cassette tape. Hell. Yeah.
I was watching the News yesterday on my totally-low-end 40 in HD TV and I found myself marveling at the picture quality. I clicked over to the broadcast on the regular FOX channel and was totally impressed with how good the picture looked. I’m not sure why I was so intrigued. We’ve had the TV for almost two years. After being mesmerized by my own stupidity, I remembered back to when I was a kid and the TV we had then.
First off it was TV. Singular. Not TVs. Only one. And it weighted about 150 pounds. The remote control was the youngest child in the family and they only had a handful of channels to choose from. Sometimes the station would go off the air because they had no programming.

I remember 1977
I started going to concerts and I saw the Led Zeppelin
I got a guitar on Christmas day
I dreamed that Jimmy Page would come from Santa Monica and teach me to play…Teach me to play…

My first concert was NOT Led Zeppelin. Not even close. I am ashamed to admit what my first concert was. I’m going to tell you, but I want to remind you that I was young and that my parents took us to see someone they liked. I had no say in the matter.
My first concert was Andy Gibb (as in dead brother of the Bee Gees). I will forever live with that shame and request that you keep the mocking to a minimum.
It’s hard to imagine that I was 15 in November, 1979. But I was. I was a dorky kid and teenager. I felt like I never fit it. I rarely went out in high school because of an extreme lack of self esteem. I’ve recently found out that there were some pretty cute girls I went to school with that actually might have considered going out with me if I’d shown interest. Shit. That was information I needed in the early 1980′s. Not 2010-11.
When I get stressed (which recently has been all the time) I like to think back to the simpler days back in the 70′s and 80′s. Back to the days of Casey Kasem with American Top 40 and Dr. Dimento playing Dead Puppies on KMET. Days when chilling was the only thing you could do, so that’s what you did.
Yeah when things get stupid and I just don’t know
Where to find my happy
I listen to my music on the AM radio.

If you’re of legal age, I invite you to grab an alcoholic beverage, pack a bong or do whatever it is you do to relax. Click on the video and get either a history lesson about the 1970′s or re-visit some fond memories. Pass it to the left…

Hazy Shade of Winter

Time, time, time
See what’s become of me
The Bangles



I’ve been feeling down lately. I’ll get through it, but for now I’m feeling blue. I was bumping around YouTube in an attempt to cheer myself up, but it wasn’t working. It didn’t matter how many loud, crude songs I listened to, I was still feeling bummed. Finally, I succumbed to the Dark Side and slicked on a playlist called “2AM Bitch Songs”. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Videos that I would typically watch only around 2 AM, when I’m feeling like a bitch.
Anna Nalick, Tori Amos, Regina Spekter, Natalie Merchant, Lisa Loeb, Sarah McLachlin and Nina Gordon are there, but so is Walking Down The Street by The Bangles. After that video, I suddenly remembered this song–a song from a great movie of the ’80's, Less Than Zero. After that it was wham, bam, thank you ma’am and I had an idea for the blog post I honestly didn’t feel like writing.
I’m gonna be straight with you. I’ve had the Susanna Hoffs dream. Guys, you know what I’m talking about. Some girls do too. Maybe even more chicks know than care to admit it. I’ve also had the dream where it was Me vs. The Bangles in a naughty naked kind of game. I’ve oft wondered who would be the best of them in bed and I’m not sure, but I bet the redhead knows a trick or two. One thing I do know is that Susanna Hoffs has one gnarly set of bedroom eyes! I also would have tapped Jami Gertz (from the movie), but I figured that went without saying.

Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a hazy shade of winter

When I started writing this I was feeling all kinds of shitty. I’ve played this song a couple of times as I’ve been tapping on the keyboard and I have to say, I’m feeling a little better. That may sound weird, considering the movie this song is about is a total fuckin’ downer. I will say this though, no one plays a better coke fiend than Robert Downey, Jr., with the possible exception of Charlie Sheen.
The Bangles have a special meaning to me. They are Drama Queen’s first ever concert. When she was eight or nine, I took her to the House of Blues at Downtown Disney to see them. She really liked it, especially when they played Walk Like An Egyptian. She started to do the dance as well she could and yelled, “Keep playing,” when they stopped.
Even though she saw the Bangles in person, my daughter’s first REAL concert was when she was 11. I got tickets for us to see Paramore and No Doubt at Staple Center (Home of the NHL’s LA Kings and the NBA’s Lakers & Clippers). They packed in 19,000 and it freakin rocked. I’ve seen No Doubt numerous times. As a guy who grew up in (and next door to The OC)The IE, I saw them in small clubs when they were an up and coming ska band. Those were rad days. I also saw Oingo Boingo live several times before they hit it big. It was during the summer at Magic Mountain. They played new wave concerts in the amphitheater and Boingo was a regular guest. Sweet, huh?
If you’ve never heard the song or if you’ve never seen the video, I implore you to check it out. If you’ve never seen the movie Less Than Zero, get to Netflix and say, “Top of my queue, yo.” It’s definitely worth your time.                                                                                                                                              

The Bookstore Chick

So my daughter picks up this woman for me at Barnes and Noble…

I think that its hilarious to listen to some single dads complain about their weekend with the kids. They get all dramatic about this and that and how they were so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get the kids back to their mother. It cracks me up. It really does.

In a way, I wish that I had their reality. I absolutely love my daughter and would not give up my full custody for anything, but truth be told, it would be nice to have the occasional weekend free from parental duties. I also love how these same dads try and push all the “parenting stuff” off on mom, while they do their best to be the fun parent. Deal with reality, losers. You knocked her up, so you can do some of the heavy lifting yourself. Life isn’t all about Chuck E. Cheese and ski trips!

So there I was, at home one night, a full-time single dad fixing dinner after returning home from my 9.5 hour workday when my darling 19-year-old announces that she needs to get a book at the bookstore for this project that she has due. “OK,” I tell her. “When is it due?” “Tomorrow,” she replies very matter of factly. As I start to lecture her about responsibility and all that stuff, she looks at me, rolls her eyes and says, “what’s your problem?”

What’s my problem? Right now I have a 5’6” brunette problem! I quickly finish dinner and we gobble it down and jump in the car to head to our local Barnes and Noble.

We arrived at the bookstore and I found myself perusing the wares on a table when this blond woman across the table from me makes a comment about how much some book costs. I look up and said something back (I have no idea what I said. It was that memorable) and we chatted for all of 10 seconds before she walked away with her daughter. I went and found my bundle of sunshine and we were in another aisle about 5 minutes later when she pointed out, “that lady you were talking to at the table just walked past us.” I looked up and said, “OK.” To which she replied that I should go over and talk to her. I glanced over at the lady and decided that she was kind of cute, but I figured that the odds of me picking up a woman at a bookstore at 7:45 PM on a Tuesday night were about as good as the chance my daughter was gonna get an “A” on this project. So, I simply said, “Whatever.”

The next thing I know my little matchmaker was out of the aisle and slowly working her way over to where the blond was and as soon as the woman picked up a copy of a Rachel Ray kids cookbook, my daughter says, (in a loud voice) “I have that same cookbook. Daddy, what recipe did we make from that cookbook?”

Oh no she didn’t! The fruit of my loins just picked up a woman for me at Barnes and Noble! I felt kind of pimped out. What I should have done was said, “I don’t know what recipe. We have to go do your project.” But I felt kind of obligated to talk with this woman for a few minutes.

As I chatted with The Bookstore Chick, her daughter and mine started striking up their own friendship. After a couple of moments, the Chick asked if I wanted to move over to the café and have some coffee. I said sure, and just like that, I was on a date with a blond at the bookstore.

We talked about this and that for the next half hour or so and I looked at my watch and announced that we simply had to get home so that we could get this project done, but would she like to go out over the weekend? She agreed and we traded numbers and e-mail addresses and went our separate ways. She sent me a text that night saying that she was looking forward to Saturday night and that she would talk with me tomorrow.

Long story short, we went out on Saturday night, but it was a very odd date. We met at a local pizza and wing joint, ordered a couple sodas, some pizza and a few wings and started talking. I began to ask her about her job and about her family and she said that this was all going too fast and that she couldn’t handle it. The next thing I knew, there was no next date and I never heard from back from her. Sigh. Oh well…..

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