Target Practice

I firmly believe that when you are single, you should not be allowed to enter any store within the months of January or February without first being fitted for some of those blinders like they put on race horses.

My reasoning for this is simple. With blinders on, you can stay focused on what you are there to get and you can try to avoid the heart shaped boxes of candy, pink candles and sickeningly sweet cards that profess undying love.

For me the worst thing about Valentine's Day is that little window of loneliness that magically appears in the same place that used to house a brick wall. I go back in time and suddenly I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck...I listen to his heart beat against my cheek and I remember how perfectly his hand fit the curve of my waist.

I remember the good things...the great things.

But I forget the times when he was callus. I forget the times he made me cry. I forget that I deserved better.

It's like a friend once said, "Linny... if love is blind... maybe we need a seeing eye dog."

Speaking of Fishing...

Wednesday night I was pulled from my American Idol fixation by the sound of my cell phone vibrating violently across the coffee table. I should have taken this as a sign. Instead....I made a rookie mistake. I answered the phone even though I didn't recognize the number calling.

At first there was silence, then a young male voice saying, "Yes...uh...I was calling about getting some more Sprint minutes and uh...I need to get a loan." Complete silence on my end. My thumb deftly reached for the "end" button. Then suddenly I heard, "Hello? Linny? Hey...it's Conway."

Oh Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!! Conway is the little twerp (aka: former co-worker) that weezled me into giving him my phone number even though it was against my better judgement. Dammit! It had been at least 2 or 3 weeks since I'd last seen him so I thought for sure I was safe against unwanted phone harrassment. Apparently I was wrong.

The next 15 minutes were the most painful of my life. It was the most awkward conversation I have ever had with anyone. He spent most of it trying to get me to agree to go out with him and when I repeatedly turned him down...he finally asked me if I'd at least call him at work the next day. "What kind of work do you do?"

He pauses..."Well, have you heard of InTouch magazine?"

"Yes."

"I read it."

"Bye Conway." *click*

I firmly believe that he was either drunk or completely stoned during the phone call. Needless to say, I saved his number in my cell phone and he is hereby known as: " Do Not Answer".

The Fishing Report Says...

Picture if you will, rural Kentucky. Lush farmland, blue skies...and redneck men from hell.

You step out of the door to be greeted by a mullet wearing farmboy with a wad of tobacco bulging beneath his lower lip. He smiles at you and his eyes inadvertantly cross as he looks you up and down with an approving nod. "Ya' sure are pretty there lady. How's 'bout you gimme your number. Maybe you can cook me supper sometime."

He turns his head and spits a bit of tobacco on the ground.

You are frozen in disgust as he smiles even wider and wipes the tobacco drool off his chin with the back of his hand. He mistakes your silent loathing for sexual tension.

Tobacco bulging over his lower lip he says, "Betcha' ain't never seen nuttin' like me before have ya'?"

Hell no and God willing I never will again.

Poor Cathy. Looks like the fishing sucks in Kentucky too.

Hell Has Frozen Over

The movie theater here is notorious for being infested with grungy, hormonal, obnoxious pre-teens. When I went to see Underworld, there was a group of goth kids in the lobby...all dressed in black, sporting a variety of dog collars, bad haircuts and piercings. I snuck a sideways glance at Daniel and whispered, "What is it with kids these days?" He in turn shook his head and said, "I don't know. You'd think they'd dress like they have some respect for themselves."

That was it.

That was the moment.

Right there.

We stopped dead in our tracks and looked at each other...disbelief plain on both of our faces. At the ripe old age of 28....we had finally turned into our parents.

On the Catwalk

I went to see "Underworld: Revolutions" with my friend Daniel on Friday night. We met at the theater which was completely packed so I ended up having to park really far away. When the movie ended it was pretty late (around midnight) so most of the cars were gone and it was a clear stroll to my car.

Now, I'm not sure why this happend, but it did. About a quarter of the way to my car I realized that I wasn't just walking to my car. For some reason I was doing the "runway model walk" to my car. I don't know if it was the boots I was wearing or the long, empty parking lot in front of me but I was strutting, one foot directly in front of the other...hips swinging.

Once I realized it and laughed at myself, I gave my hair a flick and continued to strut.

Phone Number Etiquette 101

Saturday night I went out to the bar with a couple of friends to hang out, listen to the band and have a few beers. I wasn't there to hook up...I just wanted to relax. Too bad for me I happened to run into not one...but two bozos that wouldn't leave me alone. The first was some dude that kept saying, "holla" a lot. (I told you...it's the microchip. That's how they find me.)

The second guy was someone I had actually worked with about 8 years ago at this Italian restaurant and I haven't talked to him since I quit. He caught me while I was up at the bar waiting for my beers and initially I was friendly and asked how he was doing, ya da ya da ya da. Then he started acting really weird so I blew him off and went back to my table. He came by as we were getting ready to leave and asked for my phone number. For a split second my mind reeled and it was as if everyone in the bar had suddenly been put on pause. The only thing moving was my brain and it was contemplating how I was going to handle the situation.

"Do you want him to have your number?" "No."

"Should you give him a wrong number?" "If he was a stranger, perhaps. But you know this guy and he's friends with people you still know. You could easily run into any of them again and they'll all be thinking of you as the bitch that was too good to give Brian her number."

Ok...so the internal dialogue was going 90 to nothing and in the end...I grudgingly gave him my cell phone number. I ground my teeth as I entered the number into his phone and secretly hoped he would never ever call me.

So this brings me to my question....what is the etiquette for giving or not giving out your number? I know a lot of girls will just give the guy the wrong number. I have a bad problem with feeling extremely guilty about that. How terrible for the guy to call the number and it be "Joe's Pizza" or something. (Unless the guy's a total twit...I don't think I'd feel too bad then). See, normally if a guy asks for my number and I have no intention of ever speaking to him again...I'll just tell him that I don't give my number out but he can give me his. Obviously I never call. This I don't feel guilty about because most men know that, that whole schpeel means the girl's not interested. Geez. Anyone got a better idea?

Can You Hear Me Up There?

*Last night...kneeling at the end of the bed, staring up at the cieling.*

Hello up there. We haven't been formally introduced but my name is Linny. I've been a good person, a kind person...I was just wondering perhaps if you could see that a little kindness swings my way? I'm not asking for much. I was just thinking that perhaps you could see fit to send a David Beckham look alike my way?

*Sigh* It was worth a try...and you can't blame a girl for asking...I mean come on. He is h-o-t ...HOT! Give me a man with David Beckham's looks and Will Smith's personality and all my dreams will come true.....

The Madness Within

So...I don't have any holy water and I don't have any sage to burn...so I've been walking around the office spritzing everyone with Lysol in an attempt to choke the evil body jumping spirit away. Unfortunately it didn't seem to work.

The madness has since manifested itself in the form of a 5 page typed letter of grievances from the employee most currently inflicted with the posession. *Sigh* I don't have time for this. We need a priest. We're going to have to perform an exorcism on the fly.

For those of you unfamiliar with my office woes...please read my post "Who Do Voodoo?" Then you will understand.

I ran an Employment Ad over the weekend and was dismayed to find a HUMONGOUS stack of resumes on my desk yesterday. I know...you're thinking, "well, you DID run an ad so a lot of resumes should be a good thing right?" Hmmmm. You would think so. But my established readers know what I inevitabley have to face during every interview process...that's right. I have to weed out the crazies that made prison breaks from their last offices.

I think I failed to mention that during my last interviewing process I had one woman show up in her pajamas...and another showed up decked out from head to toe in the color fushia and she had a Hello Kitty backpack and matching earrings. *Sigh*

Gone Fishin'

Let me be clear. When it comes to men, I seem to attract losers. For quite some time it was my belief that perhaps I was this amazing phenomenon that needed to be studied by the scientific community. Seriously. If you take the biggest weirdo/loser/jackass in the world, blindfold him and drop into a sea of 1000 women...he will bypass all of them and find me. It's like I have some sort of microchip implanted in me that allows this type of man to locate me...no matter where...no matter when. Such is my curse.

I have yet to meet a nice, normal guy. They all seem to be:
A.) cocky assholes
B.) too clingy
C.) insanely jealous OR
D.) fucking weird as hell

It's like I told Princess Pessimism about her recent experience....most men are either Looney up front...or they're "Looney Incognito." Meaning...they seem normal at first...but then when they're starting to finally reel you in...the crazy comes out.

Everyone always says, "There are plenty of fish in the sea." Well you know what? I must be on the wrong fucking coast.

So, tis the season to make new decisions regarding life, love and happiness. I've thought long and hard about what I want out of this new year and I've come to a decision. I want a clean slate. I want to have a fresh start and I want to make 2006 more about doing stuff for myself instead of worrying about work, friends and family. It's time that I come first for once...otherwise I'm just going to lose my mind. I tried to work on this task last year but it didn't work out so well due to unforseen events. However...this is a year of no excuses. I've already started putting money away in another checking account for the year's expenses.

I want to travel...the last vacation I had was when I was like 19....and I want to see more than just the typical Florida Beach like most Georgians do. I want to go overseas. I bought an Atlas and I'm currently circling places that I want to visit. Now I know I'll probably only make one international visit this year but there are lots of places I want to go in the future.

Currently circled: Brazil, New Zealand, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, Sweden, Russia and Italy. If anyone knows of any other nice countries to visit..please let me know.

Plans for this year:
1. Skydiving
2. Travel
3. Ride in a hot air balloon
4. More trips to the High Museum of Art
5. Visit the planetarium
6. Visit the Fernbank Museum
7. Visit the recently opened Georgia Aquarium (the biggest aquarium in the world)
8. Write more
9. Get a massage
10. Lose 15 lbs
11. Rent a convertible and take a road trip to somewhere I've never been
12. While on vacation create an alias to go by and be that person while on my trip

The list will get longer as I think of more things that I want to do...if anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to let me know. This year is about living my life to the fullest.