Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome

This isn't new:  I let everything that's good pass me by.  I think it's a disease (or disorder) like hoarding or sex addiction.  I admire those who aren't afraid to be happy and to take the necessary, though not always smiled upon, steps in order to achieve that ultimate happiness. 


I've let my anxiety hold me back from a lot of great experiences.  I've also let the fear of how others would view me stop me from doing things that I wanted to do.  All that's gotten me is a stigma of walking the line.  I'm not Johnny Cash, and even though he walked the line, even he stepped off track. 


I've also let many (and I mean many) great guys disappear because -- simply put -- I just didn't appreciate them at the time.  My stubbornness gets in the way each and every time and then I usually decide that I'd be happier alone in the end.  But really, I don't want to be alone. 


Moving along, I recently thought about an old acquaintance (dare I call him "friend"?) that I had  a few years ago.  Actually, I had thought about him off and on, but when we ran into each other at a store, it was blatant confirmation that I had to rekindle our romance of words.  He was always very kind to me:  always there to throw a compliment (if I were willing to catch), always there to stimulate me (my mind, guys.  My mind), and always ready to lend a logical piece of advice or a hand if there was anything he could ever do.  I took this for granted.  I guess I'm always afraid of leading people on, or turning friendships/relationships into something they're not.


I cut him loose.  Nothing like, "Hey, your services are no longer required," but we slowly just stopped all communication.  And that was it. 


So upon this meet cute we had in the store; although not so much "cute" as we didn't even exchange words, just glances, and we started communicating again, it obviously just wasn't the same.  We had both been through a lot.  We exchanged a few texts here and there, a few emails, made plans to get together to catch up (but not the actual "meet up" plans, the kind of plans you just say you're making, yet never actually do it), but never did we really get back into our old groove. 


I thought about this and confronted him.  I told him I missed talking to him.  I love the way he writes, so I always have a comment when I read anything he posts, but I haven't been getting responses.  What's the deal, man?  He apologized and told me that sometimes he gets that way, but it's by no means my fault and he'll do better.  He promised.  Then he tells me he's moving.  I thought: No!  The only person I wanted to hang out with is now leaving!  Upon further inquiry, he reveals he has a fiance' and a new job.  I can't remember the exact words, but even though it was in writing, I got the indication that I was being a nuisance and this was his way of being rid of me.  The only thing I could think to say was, "Okay. Good luck!"  And with that, I deleted his phone number. 

Why do I feel so dumb, though?

We were always friends, but I'm not sure if we were ever completely on the same wavelength.  I enjoyed his friendship, as I'm sure he did mine but I think at one point there were more feelings there that I never gave the chance to be explored. 


I know he'll eventually read this, and that being said:  I want you to know that I know I have bad timing; I've always been that way and for some reason I don't think I'd change it if I could.  I don't think running into you was coincidence and I was definitely looking forward to maybe starting a more active friendship, but apparently the stars have a different path for you!  I'm sorry I let all these years go to waste instead of just giving you the time and attention (as my dear friend) that you selflessly deserved.  Congratulations! 

At Least I Have the Cell Phone

I am queen of the dreams - at least in my own mind. I love to dream and I tend to remember mostly all of them (or so I think!). Last night was particularly interesting. Not so much the dream itself, but who was in the dream. 


There was a girl I knew in middle school. We weren't very close friends - maybe a few words exchanged here and there, and the most we shared were a few classes growing up. She was tall, smart, friendly, loved succeeding and she sure wasn't afraid to share her success. I remember having a math class with her in 7th or 8th grade and she showed us a catalog she had modeled for. She was proud, as she should've been and I remember thinking how cool it was for her to be able to balance her friends, school work and such awesome extracurricular activities the way she did. 


I hadn't seen her after 8th grade and after the end of freshman year I moved up to New York. Being that we weren't really friends, I hadn't thought about her since. I do remember watching one of those spring break MTV shows and I saw her on there. "Holy crap! That's Lauren!" Fast forward a few years later, and back to South Florida I went.


I love how everyone you ever knew in your life is on Facebook and I also love how you remember all of the names even as adults. Most of the friends I have on Facebook are classmates I had throughout my life and I'm okay with that -- Lauren being one. It came as no shock to me to see that she's made it in the modeling world. She looks exactly the same and she still seems like the same girl we knew back in junior high. So the dream, you ask? Fine.


In regular dream-fashion, I have no idea why things were or how things were, but Lauren and I were good enough friends for her to have given me an iPad-type device and I suppose some sort of hand-held game. In exchange, I had given her a cell phone under my name (bad credit, maybe?). I must have done something to rattle her cage because before I knew it, the wireless on my "iPad" wasn't working and she made it very clear that if I wanted it to work again, I had better send her a lot of flowers like her other "smart friends." Jeez! What did I do, girl?! Must've been bad.


My revenge? No problem, I'll just call the cell phone service provider and terminate your contract! It would probably cost the same as sending those flowers! Before you knew it, she turned into the evil other-mother in Coraline and chased me all over trying to take my phone so that I couldn't make that call. 


I guess it's just so vivid to me because I have numerous dreams where I'm trying to hide as if it's a life-or-death situation. I sure hope it wasn't one in this case!


Damn, Lauren! What'd I do?!

Why NYC Scares Me: Reason 586 of 2750284038

This story is a little old, but I was reminded of it a minute ago as I received a Tweet from Zak Bagans saying,

"In a cab with the driver he's 80 years old and is driving like mario andrettie and keeps cursing... this dude rocks"

Please keep in mind I wrote it verbatim, sans punctuation, proper spelling and the like. Anyway, I was brought back to this past New Years.


When the Jersey Shore took over the bar we were at, we decided to call it a night. The walk from the bar to Grand Central wasn't that bad, but after being on our feet in our stilettos, it seemed almost unbearable. Allie quickly made it known that the girls were NOT walking, and although the men of the group were insisting that there would be no way we could hail a cab on New Years, Allie almost immediately proved them wrong.


I don't want to say I was a non-believer but I did secure my own ride, and when I heard her calling me to get in the cab, I quickly jumped off The Rag's back and ran over to the yellow slice 'o heaven. 


The driver... was a creeper. Some form of Middle Eastern and clearly had no issues with letting us know exactly what was on his mind. About us, about the girl in the little blue piece of fabric (blue was his favorite color - he slowed down to offer her a ride), about how much he likes boobies and let's not forget the deal - if we flashed boobies, our ride was discounted. Not free, but discounted. Classy.


When there were no more, "oh my God, look at HER"'s he asked, "so you guys are all already drunk, huh?" - I'm paraphrasing here, I can't quite remember the exact creepy question he asked, but Allie didn't think twice before answering, "YUP!" NO, ALLISON! NO! Why would you ever admit that?! I had to try and save it, "not me! Totally sober." And I was, I wasn't lying, but he also had to know that there was no way he was going to see/touch/lick/whatever any type of boobie in that disgusting cab.


Before we reached our destination, Allie told him to stop by a bank so we could get cash out of the ATM. When he pulled up along the cub outside of the bank, Allie jumped out, leaving Maggie and I in the cab so that he'd be rest assured that we weren't going to bail without paying (which we completely should've done). What does Maggie do? She closes the cab door. NO, MAGGIE! NO! Why would you DO that?! What if this creeper wanted to drive us off and do awful, disgusting things? You'd be okay because you're wasted, but me? I'd be conscious of the whole debacle! 


Allie runs back to the cab, gets in and a few blocks later we were at the glorious train station and we're not sure how it happened, but the guys were already there, half-eaten wraps in-hand. At least we didn't have to walk.

Old-en Cartoons-enberg

I have this friend who's going to be shipped off to boot camp come August for the U.S. Navy. I don't know how/why he found these, but I can't stop watching them. He posted a link to a very old Donald Duck WWII propaganda cartoon called "The Spirit of 43." It was barely 6 minutes long, but I can only imagine how many children ran to mother and father upon its ending credits saying, "save for taxes!" 

Then of course, there's link after link after link of more. I watched the Three Little Pigs next.

And of course, you can't forget Donald Duck as a Nazi. 

Can't... stop... watching.