Friday, December 30, 2005

I am bored. It is fitting that you pay.

A few months ago Jen, Erin and I verbally explored, in great detail, the idea of dating sponsors. Perhaps if single people had someone to guide them, much like an AA sponsor, through the humiliating and painful experience of "dating" the number of restraining orders issued in this country would decrease dramatically. My dating sponsor would be incredibly bored 363 days out of the year.
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I have fond childhood memories of Red Lobster. Hush puppies, rice pilaf, popcorn shrimp and my lovely paternal grandmother. It was "very expensive" and, therefore, a big treat. I hadn't been there in over 8 years. Believe me, I wanted to go back - shamelessly order the Admiral's Feast and a refreshing Lobsterita. But my ex hated seafood and said RL was ghetto. We never went.

I secretly wanted to go all of the time. "Where do you want to eat tonight?" RED LOBSTER!!!! "Uh, umm...Pizza Kitchen, J. Alexanders, Sweet Lorraine's, Margarita's, pizza in? Wherever...it's cool." NO. NO. NO!! RED LOBSTER!!!!!

Jen and Erin took me last week because they have the seafood lover in them as well. I ate several cheddar biscuits, cole slaw, a substantial portion of seafood fondue and an entire platter of deep-fried seafood with french fries. Less than one hour later we found ourselves, bloated and greasy, on Erin's couch drinking coffee, eating Bill Knapps' chocolate cake and watching The Witches of Eastwick. I have not been hungry once since that night.
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I was sitting outside having a cigarette today, staring off into space again. My contact popped out of my eye, did a semi-flip and, amazingly, popped back in. After such a terrifying split second (it's my last pair of disposables!) I reached for comfort in haste. I ended up blowing smoke out just as I put my cup to my lips. I inhaled the smoke, spit coffee all over myself and the shock of it popped my contact out again.
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Do I ever want to be the kind of woman who thinks she's super rad for drinking whiskey rather than wine, has a perpetually vulgar mouth, makes unfortunate choices regarding musical selection, can't get that dang spelling thing right, readily shows off her breasts, and makes fun of other women for being, well, sophisticated?
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Erin was watching some documentary on soldiers in Iraq. She said their captain told them, just before embarking on a mission, "Be polite, be professional, be ready to kill." That is my new dating mantra.

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