Archive for the ‘funny stories’ Category

This was the question I kept asking myself the entire time I was sitting across from Richard during dinner.

It was our first date (and our last though he didn’t know that) and even though I had just met him, I knew he didn’t have a shot at me. Based on the way he was acting, he obviously thought it was a foregone conclusion that he did have a chance. That much was apparent by the way he looked at me. I was tempted at one point to just flash him my breasts and get it over with but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do. But part of me wanted him to know EXACTLY what he was never going to get.

I really should not date.

The reasons I knew this so quickly were several. The first goof he made was mentioning my height.

“Wow, how tall are you?” he asked.

“I’m 5’7”. Why?”

“You seem much taller.”

I look down at my feet and back at him. He knew my height before we met. It’s part of the mating ritual. “Well Richard, sometimes we women wear something called high heels. You ever hear of those?”

Snort. “Oh, yeah, I see,” he says as he looks down at my feet. “You have very pretty feet. Do you like to have them rubbed?”

Major red flag but I maintained my composure. “We’ll see,” was about the only answer I could muster.  I was hungry and I can suffer through many things when I am. I decided not to bail yet. I really do not like to be rude, even when provoked.

We sit down for dinner and the waiter asks us if we would like anything to drink. I almost shout my drink order. Richard gives him his and then…he…dismisses…the…waiter…with…a…wave…of…his…hand….

Oh no, he did not! I cringe and smile at the waiter.

I settle back and try to convince myself that I am having fun, that he is probably a nice man and is just nervous. I ask him how his day went.

“Well, first of all, it took me forever to get here. The traffic was horrible, so I am hoping it will all be worth it.”

“Probably not,” was all I could say as I took a VERY large gulp of my margarita. “I hate my life” was all I could think.

He smiles. “The night is still young. You do know, don’t you, that I am quite a catch.”

I almost laughed out loud, but he had such a serious look on his face that I managed to maintain my composure. “Is that right? Now why is that?” He didn’t know me well enough to catch the sarcasm.

“Yes I am,” he says as he takes out his phone and starts to show me pictures of the house he owns in San Francisco. He has about 10 different shots of it. “You see, I own this house and I’m retired, so I have property and that’s a really good thing. You know, the last six dates I was on, all the women proposed to me. Seriously, they did. On the first date.”

“What did they propose, exactly?”

He laughs and reaches across the table and puts his hand on my arm and holds it. “I do love your sense of humor.”

“Me too. It helps me not to go insane on a daily basis. Sometimes hourly,” I say as I pull my arm away and take another slam of my drink.

The waiter comes back over and asks us if we are ready to order. I lost my appetite somewhere during this, but I didn’t care. I ordered a huge steak with potatoes, salad with Ranch dressing and asked that it all be topped off with a ton of onions and garlic. Lots of onions and garlic.

Richard raises an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea, the onions and garlic, because…..”

Then he winked! He winked at me!

“I am positive that it’s the best idea I’ve had all week,” I say as I hand the waiter my menu and sit back with my arms crossed.

“Well then, I’ll have the same,” he says and smiles. I hate his smile now. I hate his dyed hair and his smug look.

“Did I tell you about the car accident I had recently?”

I sigh. “No, you sure didn’t. I can hardly wait it hear it,” I say as I signal the waiter for another drink.

He then proceeds to tell me about getting rear-ended in San Francisco. By now dinner has arrived and I start jamming the food down my throat. I figure as long as I am doing that, I’m not obligated to say anything. This was a good idea of mine, so I just kept chewing away while he talked.

“I’m at this stop sign and this idiot rear ends me and shoves me into the car in front of me. I get out and the asshole can barely speak English. You know how maddening that is. So it ends up my car is totaled and at least he has insurance, but I was hurt. My airbag deployed and I ended up needing surgery on my shoulder. Here, let me show you,” he says.

He then begins to take off his shirt – I am not kidding, as God as my witness, I am not – and starts to show me the scars on his arm, shoulder and across his chest. I stopped him when he started to take his under shirt off.  There really is just so much I can take.

“No!” I scream. “Please don’t do that. I believe you,” I say as I thrust my arm across the table and stop him.

“Oh, sorry. So anyway, now I”m suing his ass because I think I’m worth it. I am a good person who didn’t do anything wrong and he should pay. He should pay, right?”

“Right! God damn morons! They let anyone drive now days. Son of a bitch!” I shout. He smiles.

The waiter comes over and clears our table. It’s time for my getaway and I can hardly wait. I really need to use the bathroom and just as I am excusing myself, Richard orders dessert. For both of us. With coffee.

“You need to get a little meat on your bones. I like that in a woman.”

I smile. “So do I,” and walk away. I hear the waiter chuckle and I smile back at him and roll my eyes.

I get to the bathroom and look around. There is a very small window that if I crawl through, I can come out the other side of the parking lot and run. If I time it right, he won’t see me walk by since we are sitting next to a window. Maybe when I get near the window, I can just crawl underneath it.

I stare at the window. It’s too small and I’m afraid I’ll get stuck, which would not be a good way to end another date from hell. I go back to the table, head down but telling myself it will all be over soon.

 I hadn’t said much at all during the last two hours and yet I felt exhausted. I also had to listen to his story about his daughter and everyone else in his family. He had never asked me one question or showed any interest in me at all. That was fine. I didn’t want to know him any longer. I had behaved myself and I was done.

While we were walking out, I quietly gave the waiter a large tip. Richard had been so rude to him and I figured he probably didn’t tip well either. The waiter smiled and I smiled back.

Walking me to my car, he put his arm around my waist very tightly. This gave him a very high creep factor and I felt myself turn into dead weight. Twenty more feet to go and I would be free and clear.

“Well, thank you for such a nice dinner Richard. It was most interesting and I’m glad I got to meet you,” I said very formally. Translation – “Don’t ever touch me or call me again” but I did say this with a very sweet smile on my face as I opened the car door.

He stopped me from opening the door further, put his hands on my shoulder and then guided me a few feet away. He told me to stand still and then stepped up onto a curb so he could be taller than me.

I wanted to knee him in his nuts but doubted he had any.

He then leaned forward to kiss me and I stepped to the right and watched him fall off the curb and slam into my car.

Justice was mine!

I thanked him for dinner, jumped in my car and waved as I drove off. He waved back at me while he rubbed his knee that he hit with my car.

Needless to say, I never did return his phone calls and text messages except the first one where I texted back “Find someone else to impress and be sure to leave your shirt on during dinner.”

The steak was awesome, though.

I “met” someone online a few years ago and it was one of the worst dating experiences in my life. It was so bad, I never told anyone about it. This person’s name was Adam and he knew Patty who knew Marcia who knew Samantha who knew me. I don’t know any of these people except Samantha, who still hasn’t heard the end of my wrath for putting Adam in contact with me.

I was turning 50 and was looking forward to it. I truly mean this; I actually like getting older. Adam was given my email address, with my permission, and that is how we met. I figured since it had been awhile since I had dated, meeting someone new would be a great birthday present to myself.

 Even though I enjoyed getting older, there were a few surprises about it I hadn’t expected such as my metabolism shutting down completely and finding 20 extra pounds were added to my hips, butt, stomach and thighs overnight. Some fat fairy came, waved a wand while I was sleeping and I woke-up, unable to fit into my jeans. It took a year to lose that weight because in addition to waving a wand to make me gain weight, the little bitch fairy also decided it would be fun to have my metabolism start to work in reverse.

So I began my workouts and walking and watching calories and nothing changes. Not one damn thing changes for over 6 weeks. Then one day, I saw the scale (all scales are evil) actually move a billionth of an inch to the left! Oh Dear God! One year later I am back to my fighting weight.

I had not dated in a few years because I hate it. I hate it so much I can’t describe it. I hate the awkwardness of it, I hate the fact that I am actually hoping someone likes me and that drives me crazy because I never care if someone likes me. If they don’t, it bothers me for about 1 minute and then I’m fine.

I hate getting ready for a date and finding myself feeling like I am 13 years old again and no one wants to be 13 again. I hate finding out that the person I am spending all evening with isn’t someone I want to spend all evening with. I suck at small talk and I hate spending hours trying to behave myself, not snort when I laugh, not be able to eat my food really fast (which is the way I eat) and worrying if something is stuck in my teeth. I never worry about these things when I am at home. I like being alone. I like spending time with myself and my pets, watching a good movie and talking on the phone. I like sitting in bed all morning, reading and drinking coffee and not having to close the bathroom door, ever.

But Samantha tells me about this guy and based on 3 other women’s opinions, I agree and give out my email address.

A few days later, his email arrives and I read it. His name is Adam and I see his picture attached to his email. Shit! I realize. I have to send a picture back and don’t have any. Maybe he won’t ask.

So the mating ritual starts. He tells me all about himself and I can see his face, but then he tells me he is 5’3” tall. What? I think. I am 5’ 7”! And I love wearing high heels and I’m not changing my ways this late in the game.

I pride myself on accepting people “just as they are” and I can hear the thoughts in my head about how short he is. I remind myself not to judge people but he’s so short! I tell myself that it’s all about “the person inside” but he’s so short! I tell myself that it’s good to get out once in a while and meet people but he’s so frickin’short!

Why didn’t anyone tell me he was so short? Probably because they are better people than me and can see past how short he is!

I decide to be a good person and not let this bother me. I mean, lots of men have dated and married taller women, right? Besides, we are just talking about maybe meeting one day and nothing more, right?

We begin a lengthy email and phone relationship over the next few weeks. He lives in Kansas and seems to be a very nice man. He begins calling me almost every night and this starts to bother me. I start to get a sense of obligation to him as if I have to be home or available every time he calls. It’s not that I mind talking to him; it’s that I mind him just assuming I am always around.

So I start not answering the phone every time he calls. Not to be mean, just to get out of this habit I have become to him. He starts leaving messages and sending more emails. I respond once in a while and this prompts him to decide to come out and meet me. This I did not expect, but I guess this is how this whole email dating goes.

He tells me he wants to come out for a weekend and we could meet and spend time together. I agree because, well the truth of the matter is, I am bored. We agree on a weekend and he makes his travel arrangements.

“There is something I should tell you about myself” he says one night. I feel myself get tense because it does not sound good.

“Yeah? What is that?” I ask. I know at this point he is about to tell me something horrible, like he is a Nazi or a convicted felon. I hold my breath and wait.

“I have this problem with my nose.”

Huh? I think. What the hell does that mean?

“I see. What do you mean? You have a nose, right? I saw your picture and I distinctly remember seeing a nose.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I have a nose. You are really funny!”

I feel my eyes rolls up. “Thanks” I say.

“Anyway, years ago when I was little, I broke it. Ever since then, smells really bother me. It’s like my nose is overdrive and I can’t tolerate most smells, like perfume and cigarettes.”

Cigarettes? I think as I look at the lit one I am holding in my left hand.

“I’m really glad you don’t smoke.”

This is the exact point where I hit the crossroad. It’s the crossroad I dread. It’s the crossroad where I have to decide to truly be myself and talk honestly or where I decide to try to be the person this guy is looking for.

It’s the crossroad where everything I have believed I throw out the window because here I am sitting in my tiny living room, 50 and alone with no prospects or where I tell myself that my situation doesn’t bother me and I love my life just the way it is. It’s where I make the decision about whom I really am and what I want or do I take door #2 and try to “get with the program” and find someone to be with.

“Hey, you still there?” he asks.

“Yes, sorry, the cat just did something funny.” Cough. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“You have cats? That’s too bad because I’m really allergic to them.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take them out tonight and shoot them.”

Long pause. Then he laughs and tells me again how much he enjoys my sense of humor.

“Yes, so you have said before” I say as I quickly stub out my cigarette.

I suddenly feel as if my Dad has just caught me smoking and I’m 16 again. I forgot for a moment that I am on the phone and he can’t see me. Just my dog and cats, which are staring at me reproachfully. They are the only ones that can do that and get away with it.

He then proceeds to tell me all about the problems he has with being so sensitive to smells. He doesn’t use anything that is scented and goes to great lengths to stay away from anything with any type of scent, such as perfumes, deodorants, shampoos and conditioners, all cleaning products, lotions and he says he can’t even tolerate the smell of make-up on women.

  Make-up? Oh dear, I think.

“Wow” I say, “that must be really tough on you.”

“Yes, it does make things more difficult for me.”

So, this was my warning shot. This was the red flag. This was knowing that there would be no way in hell I could stand to be around this man. As nice as he is, I would never in a million years, give up my make-up, heels and beauty routine for anyone. I’m in my 50’s!

I proceed the chain smoke throughout the rest of the conversation, being very careful not to have the phone near my mouth while I inhale and exhale.

He then tells me when he can come out to California and I light up another cigarette and tell him that works for me.

 I hang-up and throw myself down on the couch, rub my eye and heave a deep sigh. I am so screwed now.

For a few weeks before he arrives, I air out my apartment, scrub the walls, wash the curtains and wash every piece of clothing that I own. I keep the windows down in my car to air it out and the day before he arrives, I have it detailed.

  I meet him at the airport on a Saturday morning. When I see him, he is even shorter than he said. He said he was 5’3”, but he is closer to 5’2”. He waves and he also looks 15 years older than his picture.

 He is hauling his suitcase and I am tempted to carry it for him, but I resist. I go to shake his hand as he leans over to hug me and I poke him in the eye. He says he is fine and we walk to my car. I am wearing tennis shoes and still looking down on him. I feel horrible for what I am thinking and the more I try not to think that way, the more I do.

 We get in the car and I ask him where he is staying. He gives me a blank look and says he hadn’t thought about it. I realize that he planned on staying with me! No way is that going to happen, but I let it pass and say “Well, there are plenty of hotels and motels around here. Let’s go find you one.”

We spend the next 4 hours driving up and down El Camino Real so he can go and smell the rooms before he decides to register. He finally finds one and only after I told him I was tired, hungry and unwilling to spend another moment going to hotels and smelling their rooms.

I did not know at the time that this would be the high point of his visit.

We go out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant, but he had me wait in line for him so he could go stand in the parking lot because someone who was also waiting for a table was wearing perfume.

He took 45 minutes to order his dinner and kept the waitress standing there the entire time as he asked very detailed questions about each item on the menu. Every time she would answer his question, he would nod his head and then take another minute to ask the next question. She would look at me, pleading for me to do something, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders.

He brought his own bottled water and had to wipe the entire chair and table with a handkerchief before he would sit down. I didn’t know what to say and in hindsight, there wasn’t anything to say.

I did the best I could to keep the conversation going, but it was useless. We had great conversations on the phone, but when actually faced with meeting him and spending time with him, I had nothing to say. I could never remember meeting such a prissy and feminine man before in my life and any initial attraction was gone. In fact, I found him very annoying and unfriendly. He appeared to be attracted to me and this increased my annoyance and displeasure, but I decided to make the best out of a bad situation and tried to be as polite and friendly as possible. But I was so disappointed that this wasn’t turning out as well as I had hoped.

I know that when you are single, you make the best of it and it is often a relief to be out of a bad marriage or relationship, but there is always a part of you that wishes for the real thing. We tell ourselves that we like being single (and very often I do) but in the back of your mind, there is always hope and that’s why we date. We date because we haven’t completely given up and curiosity will get the best of us when there is a possibility.

So I sat there, disappointed and a bit sad, but not hopeless. Just felt like I was wasting my time.

With dinner over, we walk back to my car and he takes my hand. My first thought was to pull it away, but I didn’t. I just smiled and kept walking. As we drive to his hotel, he asks me to come in. I am dying for a cigarette and don’t want to spend another moment with him, so I tell him I am exhausted. Just then I realize that he is here for the weekend to visit with me and I am stuck with him. There is no way to get out of this, so I tell him I need some sleep and I’ll see him in the morning. He leans over to kiss me and I turn my face so he ends up kissing my cheek.

 I get home and immediately go across the street to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke several outside my apartment. I am dreading tomorrow as we are spending the day in San Francisco.

 He calls me later that night to say goodnight.

 “I had a really nice time tonight and I’m glad I came out to see you” he says.

 “Yeah, me too. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 9:00. How does that sound?”

 “Sounds great. I miss you already” he says and as soon as I hear that, I light up another cigarette and pray for a hurricane so that I don’t have to see him tomorrow.

 I pick him up the next morning and he tries to kiss me again.

 “Would you please just stop trying to do that?” I ask. I can’t believe how some people just can’t take a hint.

 “Gosh, I guess you got up on the wrong side of the bed today” he says and walks over to my car. I decide that if I am going to kill him, this would not be the right place. Too many witnesses and I’m not sure he’s worth going to jail for.

 We take off and hit the freeway. He kept giving me detailed instructions on what lane to drive in because the car in front of us had too many fumes coming out. About the fifth time he did that, I held up my right hand and made a fist.

 “You see this fist? If you tell me one more time how to drive, what to do or anything else, this fist is coming across and hitting you on your nose.”

 “I just love your sense of humor! Hey, move out of this lane, will ya? That truck is really making me sick.”

 We go to Fisherman’s Wharf but can’t stay there because of the smell. He didn’t like Pier 39 because there were too many people wearing after shave or cologne. He didn’t want to eat at any place I picked because it smelled. We ended up getting hot dogs and eating on a park bench and only because I insisted and was starving.

I realize this is one of the worse days of my life but it is almost over. A couple more hours and he is back at his hotel and I’ll never have to see him again. I am thinking this just as a young girl walks by with a cropped top and showing off her perfectly flat stomach. He watches her walk by and then turns to me.

“I have a question for you. How long would it take you to get your stomach to look like that?”

Without missing a beat, I say “About as long as it would take you to grow 6 inches” and I get up, grab my purse and start walking away. He jumps up and starts to follow me.

I turn around and stop. “I don’t think so. You are on your own. Have a nice flight back” and start walking again. He keeps running after me, apologizing and begging me to stop and talk to him. I was deaf to anything he had to say.

I get to my car, unlock the driver side, and get in. He is banging on the passenger side, asking me to please open the door and let him in.

 “I can’t. My stomach is too fat to lean over and unlock the door” I say as I drive away.

 Within a minute, he is calling my cell phone. I ignore it all the way home. I am fighting back tears and bouts of rage. If ever I could be violent, it was now, so I figured the best thing is to just get away from him and write it off as a bad day.

 I finally turn my phone off because he won’t stop calling. I can see he is leaving messages, but I don’t care. I never want to hear from him again, I never want to hear his voice and I don’t want to know him.

 I finally listen to his messages 3 days later and heard all his crying. He left over 5 messages while in San Francisco, 1 from the taxi home from San Francisco, 2 from his hotel room and 1 from the plane.

I am assuming he made it home

But ask me if I care.

Not only was she a crazy, psycho bitch, but I actually hired her! I do cringe in typing that and maintaining my vow to be honest as a writer. But, yes, I’ve hired a few of them and I really should have seen it coming.

This particular one I am thinking about was the last one in a chain of them. We shall call her…Debbie because I don’t feel like getting sued.

I realize that it’s hard to get a good overall idea about someone during a job interview and I know that people are struggling. I was struggling a bit as the owner of a small business and I really needed a competent and stable individual to take over my sales department and get things moving back in the right direction.

I also violated the advice we give all our clients. “Don’t hire in desperation. Better to leave the job unoccupied than to hire a moron.”

But, there I was and she had come with some great recommendations from people I know. I interviewed her and so did my boss and we decided to give it a try. There is a long runway in our business, but she seemed eager and willing and most important, she was hungry.

You want your salespeople to be hungry, all the time. It seems to be the only way they can get a close. When they are fat and happy, they get careless, but when they are about to be evicted, suddenly they are closing everything in sight. Feast or famine seems to be the way it runs.

It was on the second day that I knew we had made a mistake, but I said nothing. I knew that even though this wasn’t someone I liked or that I wanted to have coffee with, if they can bring in income, the rest I can deal with.

Her first mistake was assuming that because I am packing a uterus, this gave her a “right” to get personal with me. This is a big mistake with me because regardless of my gender, I am a business owner and everything is about the bottom line. I am not there to make friends or socialize or chit-chat about my life or anyone else’s. I am paid to deliver a service to our clients and it’s my job to not only do that but to make sure everyone does.  I don’t hire people so that I can hear about their weekend or what their children are doing. I tolerate it because on some level I care but mostly because I have to.

On her second day, she was standing by the fax and started to talk to me as I was rushing out of my office. I was on an important call and I had the client on hold and needed to ask my boss a question. It was quite obvious I was in a hurry, but suddenly I heard her screech (she really did screech and shout most of the time) “SUSAN, I JUST LOVE WHAT YOU ARE WEARING! WHERE DID YOU GET IT?”  I hesitated for a moment and vaguely recall saying something about Goodwill as I turned the corner.

Later that day, she walked into my office and plopped (yes, plopped) down in a chair and had this weird look on her face. I was in the middle of sending an email and did everything I could to ignore her, but finally she said “DO YOU HAVE A MINUTE TO TALK?” and I said I did. She then began to tell me about her weekend, her children, what she had for lunch, her parents, her friends and a few other things that I managed to forget. I tried, really hard, to be interested and to look interested and I think I fooled her. She seemed to like my responses and eventually left my office grinning as I mentally snapped and snarled at her as she left.

Some of the things that happened over the next few months were:

1) Telling me, everyday, how amazing she was.

2) Giving me advice on how to deal with clients even though I had been successfully doing it for over 20 years.

3) Constant complimenting me on everything I wore even if it was a stupid outfit. To me, she acted like I walked on water.

4) Not knowing how to dress for her full figure and always wearing shirts with horizontal stripes that added another 20 pounds to her waist.

5) Yelling at my assistant when I wasn’t there.

6) Crashing her car into a tree in the parking lot one morning and didn’t think it was funny when I told her that at least her make-up didn’t smudge.

7) Telling me that my business would fail without her.

The fact that we had somehow managed for 15 years before her arrival was not a valid point. My response was “Debbie, the day my survival depends on you is the day I kill myself.” She laughed about that and told me what a wonderful sense of humor I have.

8) Wanting to talk about everything, and I mean everything. If we had a meeting and everyone was agreed, she would still come into my office and talk  ad nauseam about some minor point, over and over until I wanted to pull my hair out.

Finally one day, I had enough. I sat her down and told her “Look, when something is taken care of, there’s no reason to keep going on and on about it. If I have more I want to say, I’ll say it, but you don’t need to stress about things constantly.”

She gave me a quizzical look and I realized she didn’t know what I was talking about because she was psychotic. She had no or very little connection to what was around her. She was operating off of some idea of HOW she thought things were which had no basis in reality.

She was a psychotic bitch.

It was all so clear to me suddenly. No matter what I said or did, she would twist it. No matter how much we all tried to help her, she was going to turn every conversation into something it wasn’t and never let it go. She tried to change every successful action we had established in our business.

She was THE reason some of us women have a bad reputation because in all honesty, after being around her for a short period of time, I wanted to smack her and I’ve never been violent in my life.

I knew the bitch needed to be taken out and I was going to do it for mankind. I felt I was on an honorable mission and I wasn’t going to fail.

She was also a salesperson that couldn’t close a door and I was tired of picking up her slack. I can put up with a lot from people but the one thing I will not tolerate is incompetence. Not on my watch and not on my dollar.

I had a long talk with my boss and we decided that he would talk with her. My boss is an amazing man and one of my best friends. I would trust him with my life and he is one of the few people whose opinion I value. I also understand that I was exasperated and being a bit reactive towards her, so we talked it out. We decided that he would talk with her and see what he could do since we had invested a lot of time in her.

I was satisfied with that. The next morning, she comes into my office after talking with him and is crying. I ask her what happened and she tells me that she decided to leave and start her own business!  I sort of nodded and then suddenly she’s giving me a bear hug and telling me how much she likes me and will miss me. I was kind of pissed that she hadn’t gotten fired. I know, a bit petty, but that’s the truth.

She packed up her things with promises of staying in touch and having coffee. I smiled at the right time and nodded and when the door was closed and she was on the other side of it, I RAN into my bosses office for all the gory details.

She had been fired and had stood in front of me and lied. Flat out lied. I was tempted to run down to the parking lot and let her know that I knew she had been fired, but decided that would be just a bit too childish.

But I really wanted to do that. I really did.

Shoes I’ve worn once.

Posted: September 4, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , , ,

Admit it. You have at least one pair of these, don’t you? Maybe you have more than one pair?

I am only willing to talk about one pair. Just one pair and I am NOT going to go through my closet and take pictures of the others. That would be pointless and would also make me feel a bit more foolish than I already do.

I KNEW it when I bought them that I would never wear them much but because they were so cool and on sale, I went ahead and got them. But since I am being honest here, the fact that they were on sale had absolutely nothing to do with my decision. I tell myself that to justify buying shoes I don’t need with money I don’t have. Hey, it works for me, OK?

I also justified it by telling myself I had so many outfits they would go with and I would wear these all the time. Besides, I have to look nice for work and somewhere during my twisted little thought process, I actually convinced myself that buying and wearing these shoes would help increase the income of my business. At the time, it made perfect sense to me but right now, I cannot even imagine how I spun that around but I know that I did.

They hurt my feet when I tried them on, but again, I told myself in great detail that the shoes would “give” the more I wore them and it would be OK. Sure, it might take a few days, but it would be fine and I really needed these shoes today and passing them up would mean the end of my career.

Again, at the time, it all made so much sense.

It also made sense that even though I found them difficult to walk in as they are at least 4” high, I would figure it out in a very short period of time and I just needed to get used to them and all would be right with the world once again. This is logical. This makes sense and this is the right way to think.

I bought them and brought them home. On my way back from the store, I mentally calculated all the things I could do without the coming week in order to afford them. I could forego paying my electric bill until next month unless the utility company got bitchy about it. I also didn’t need to fill up my gas tank at the station and could maybe survive on half a tank of gas unless there was an emergency and I had to hit the road suddenly. Yeah, that would work along with adding water to the bottle of shampoo in my shower and using that for another week rather than buying a new bottle.

I am not good at math, but for some reason, I felt like Einstein as I drove home with the amazing trajectories I was able to do.  It was rocket science and I was scary brilliant.

So I bought them and I came home with them and put them on. Sure, I was wearing my baggy jeans and a T-shirt I’ve owned for over 25 years, but I still looked good. I knew I was right because these shoes went with everything! They pinched my toes and I could feel the blood stop moving to my feet, BUT I LOOKED SO DAMN GOOD!

I mentally patted myself on the back for being such a good shopper and then I tried to walk in them. On a hard wood floor with feet I could no longer feel. On a floor that is tilted and uneven because I live in a converted garage. Yes I do and that’s a topic for another post but come to find out, when a landlord converts a garage into a studio apartment, they’re just looking to make money and aren’t too concerned about the minor details such as when you walk into the bathroom, you have to place your hand on the wall to steady yourself so you don’t crash into the closet. Just a minor detail that is annoying at 3:00 in the morning.

Suddenly I was headed for the dreaded closet and I couldn’t stop myself because the bottom of the shoes were slick and now I was rollerblading with my arms going all over the place as I tried to balance myself and find something to grab. My closet doesn’t have a door on them because that would have also cut into the landlords expense in remodeling a garage, so I crashed into the back wall of said closet but did manage to grab the rod that my clothes hang on. Fortunately the rod was strong enough to hold me, so I swung there for a moment and then let go and crashed onto the closet floor because I still couldn’t get feel my feet. I landed square on my butt and avoided the shoe rack. I don’t even want to think about that.

One would think that a normal and somewhat sane person would have immediately grabbed the shoes and the pretty box they came in and gone back to the store and returned them.

Of course I didn’t. I loved these shoes and I was on the brink of giving up FOOD for a week just to own them, so I realized that the actual problem was the floor and not the shoes and everything would be fine because we had carpeting at work.

I wore them the next day, but I didn’t put them on my feet until I got out to my car. It has carpet and when I got to work, I very carefully walked through the parking lot and up the stairs without incident. I shudder to think what I must have looked like walking but as long as I looked good, I was willing to pay such a small price.

All day my feet hurt but I refused to take my shoes off. I was right in my decision damn it! My staff is composed only of men – again, a whole other post coming up on that – so they of course don’t notice anything like my shoes, though one of them asked me if I had hurt my back from the way I was walking. I blew him off, told him not to worry and to get back to work.

Everything was going fine until I had been sitting at my desk for a while. I would wiggle my toes to make sure I still had them. Someone called me, so when I turned my chair around and started to get up, I hadn’t put my foot down exactly right and the next thing I knew, I fell flat on my ass. The chair I had been sitting in crashed into the glass door behind me and then bounced off of that and smacked me on the back of my head which then caused me to scream.

The next thing I know I have 3 men standing in my doorway, looking down at me with very worried faces. Then, as if they were in a herd, all scrambled to help me up but since there was only a narrow passage between my desk and a credenza, they couldn’t get through and began to shove and push each other, which made it only worse. It was classic slapstick and the more they tried to get to me, the further back they pushed each other.

I started laughing and told them I was fine but that I needed someone to take my shoes off. Suddenly they were silent with blank looks on their faces. The two married men weren’t too scared but the young single man was, so he silently slowly backed away as he shook his head. One of them came forward, sat down on the floor and took my shoes off with no questions asked. He had been married a long time.

I finally was able to stand up and grab my chair and sit down. I could feel the blood rushing to my feet again. I thanked him, told them I was fine and had just tripped. They wouldn’t leave my office until they were convinced I was fine. I went barefoot the rest of the day and no one said a word or asked one question. It was just “Susan is doing what Susan does” for the rest of the day. Just another normal day.

So here they are:

And I can’t give them to Goodwill like I do with all my clothes that I’ll never wear again. These shoes are cursed and dangerous and I don’t want to inflict them on another woman.

I can’t throw them away because I only wore them once, so maybe you know someone I should send them to. The woman who slept with your husband or maybe a woman who stabbed you in the back and pretended to be your friend and then betrayed you.

They are a size 8.

Don’t play chicken with me

Posted: July 14, 2011 in funny stories, Pets
Tags: ,

Sometimes in life, you have to stand up for yourself and let the chips fall where they may. You have to speak out and not worry about the consequences. If you think about it, you might not do it.

I was walking my dog Maverick last year. It was twilight but a warm evening in the summer. Maverick was getting older and wasn’t feeling great, so I made sure to give him short walks. He and I both needed to get out of the house that night.

We were just turning the corner on our street. I saw three men standing on the sidewalk ahead of us with a couple of dogs. Because Maverick liked to bark and have a tizzy fit anytime he saw another dog, I walked us into the street and figured we would get back on the sidewalk after we passed them.

As we were walking by, Maverick started to get excited, but I reined him in. The two dogs were smaller and could have been pit bulls or some similar mix. I personally love pit bulls and don’t buy all the crap that is said about them. But the guys standing there had the full “gang banger” look going on.

As we walked by, one of the dogs barked and we kept walking. As we passed and returned to the sidewalk, I heard one of the men start to yell at his dog to shut-up and then I heard the dog yelping. He was hitting his dog.

No, I don’t think so.

I froze. I was about four houses down from them, but it was a quiet night. I turned around and yelled back at the man to knock it off.

I was a bit surprised those words came out of my mouth, but that’s what happens when you speak before thinking.

“What did you say, bitch?” was the reply.

I froze but Maverick kept walking. I felt the leash tug for a moment. My heart was racing and it suddenly dawned on me what I had done. I wanted to just keep walking but the sounds of that dog crying and him yelling at it were still in my head. I thought about what would happen to the dog if I just walked away and I couldn’t do it. I looked down at Maverick and knew I would never let anyone harm a hair on him and that I would do whatever I could if someone tried.

The dog that was getting beaten was the same as Maverick to me. The love I felt for Maverick suddenly transferred over to him and I was not going to walk away.

I turned around.

“You heard me. Get your hands off that dog or I’ll come back there and make you do it,” I yelled back. Maverick was now looking up at me, worried. He knew I was upset and he was trying to figure out why. Because he was older and because I didn’t want him hurt, I tied him to a tree and told him I would be right back.

Just as I started to walk towards the men, one of them said “You can’t tell me what to do. It’s my dog.”

“That doesn’t matter, you idiot! You lay another hand on that dog and you’ll have to hit me too!”

“Oh really?” he said. I wasn’t bluffing. I meant it. I had made my decision and I was hoping that today wasn’t my day to die.

“I’ll tell you what  to do, when I want. You get your hands off of one of God’s creature or I’ll come over there and take your dog from you.  You understand me?” I yelled back. I had stopped walking towards them. My whole body was shaking and fear started to arrive again and I pushed it back. I had gone this far and wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I knew I could not back down.

There was silence. I tried not to think or worry about myself. I was more worried about Maverick.

“Sorry ma’am, you’re right,” he said.

What? Did I really hear that?  Did I really back down a gang -banger or was this some insidious ploy to get me closer and then kill me?

“What did you say?” I yelled back. I was now three houses away from them. I started walking again. They weren’t moving and they looked so much taller and bigger than when I had first walked by. They turned towards me as I got nearer.

“I asked you a question. What did you say?” I asked as I came within twenty feet from them.

One man was kneeling down now, petting and stroking his dog. He was whispering in his ear. The other two men stood silently and watched. One of them knelt down and started to scratch the ear of the other dog, which began to wag his tail.

The man, who I think yelled at me, looked up, kissed his dog on his head and stood up. “I said you were right and I’m sorry I did that. It was wrong of me.”

All my anger and rage started to lift at that moment and I didn’t want it to. I wanted to stay angry at them. I was prepared to grab the dogs and run as fast as I could but I was not prepared for an apology. This threw me off.

I looked at them for a moment. My racing heart started to calm down but my body was shaking. I was prepared to get hurt to help the dogs but I didn’t expect this fight to be over so quickly.

“OK, then. You ever hit another one of God’s creatures again I’ll make sure you pay for it. Somehow.  Someway.” I said with no idea how I could ever back-up that statement, but I was way past the point of thinking.

“Yes ma’am,” was all he said. The other two men nodded their heads in agreement.

I looked down at the dogs. They were happy and healthy and showed no signs of abuse. I smiled at them, turned and walked away.

I untied Maverick and we began walking again. I walked past my house and went around the corner. As brave as I might have been, I didn’t want them to know where I lived in case they had a change of heart. Maverick and I laid low around the corner for a few minutes. We kept peeking around the bush to see if they had left yet. Once they did, we came back around and almost ran up the driveway and into the house.

I may be crazy but I am not stupid!

Got Attitude?

Posted: July 4, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,


Yeah, it’s all about that, isn’t it?

The way you look at and think about things.

Attitude.  I learned about attitude yesterday when I went river rafting.


First time ever.

And I lived to tell the tale.

I went up to Vanessa’s house, my niece, to go river rafting with her and her boyfriend Ryan:

(aren’t they cute?)

along with his daughter Daisey ( sorry, don’t have a picture of her, but trust me, she is adorable) and my sister and her boyfriend and their friend Sasha.

I assumed that all I would have to do was get on a raft and someone would guide us down the river and we would all sit back, drink beer and relax.

When we got there, there were tons of people and all of them looked like they knew what they were doing. As for me, all I knew was to lather up the sunscreen, wear tennis shoes and bring a hat. I thought far enough ahead to not bring my purse and cell phone because even I knew that cell phones don’t mix well with water.

Soon we were sitting down and this woman began to give us instructions on how to river raft.

What? I thought. You mean, I’m supposed to do this? All by myself?


I looked around and asked Sasha if she had ever done this.

She looks like I feel and shakes her head “No” and asks me the same question.

I shake my head no and then she gulps.

I look around and we are all looking at each other with the same look and question on our faces.

“Oh God,” I thought “I’m screwed,” and just continued to sit there with a ‘dear in the head light’ look on my face and a knot in my stomach. “I can’t do this. I’ve never paddled down a river and I haven’t been in a raft since I was a kid and that time my Dad was paddling,” I kept thinking.

Then I thought about the rapids. There are these things called ‘rapids’ in this river because that’s the whole point of this; going down a river in a small little rubber raft with a paddle and then hitting the rapids and dying.

I was going to die today.

The lady stopped talking and all I could remember were the parts about what to do if you get thrown from the raft – lay flat and keep your feet up and look at your toes – and the other part about someone shattering their legs and having to be rescued with a helicopter.

I didn’t remember anything else.

I grabbed Sasha and looked at her and we decided we would do this together. We both said we didn’t know what we were doing.

“Yeah, but they know we’ve never done this before, right?” I asked.

She nods her head.

“So, if it wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t let us do it, right? Right?” I asked. I could hear my voice getting an odd strange, high pitch to it.

She nods her head and says “Yes, that’s right. Jeez, I’ve never done this before either,” and we both agree we’ll share a raft and she will sit in the back and be the captain and I’ll be the first mate.

Which means I’ll be in front and see our death coming before she does. Well, she’s much younger than me, so she’ll have a few more seconds of life.

We walk towards the rafts and get one. Then we each get a paddle and put on our life jackets. We march down towards the lake, carrying this raft that is heavy and awkward.

I am watching everyone else get their gear and I try to act like I know what I am doing. I am wondering why we don’t have crash helmets but I don’t want to ask and look stupid.

We finally reach the river and a staff member helps us load the raft into the river. People have already started down and I know there’s no stopping now. I’m going to do this.

They help us into the raft and I sit down on the bottom of it. The staff member nicely shows me where I’m supposed to sit and it’s not on the floor of the raft. I thank him, Sasha climbs in and they shove us off.

Sasha and I had been jabbering about neither one of us knew what we were doing but decided to go ahead and do it anyway. We thought if everyone else was going, we would to and not be a couple of scared little girls even though we were.

So off we went and I kept trying to remember if I put the paddle on the left, it makes us go to the right. Sasha was trying to the same thing and for our first adventure down a river we consistently went the exact opposite direction we wanted to go.

But the river was calm and smooth and we splashed water on the people we knew and we were soon referring to our adventure as bumper rafts because we kept running into other rafts.

But everyone was laughing and there were tons of us out there, so I figured if I fell out and started drowning, someone would pull me out and maybe I wouldn’t die.

I thought that until I could hear the first rapid off in the distance. It was waiting for us and we couldn’t figure out how to stop the raft and turn it around. The river was still and calm and death was waiting for me, just up ahead.

I turned and looked at Sasha and she gave me a weak smile. “Well, here we go,” I said and gave her a weak smile and thumbs up.

I watched as other went through it.  Our raft became a magnet for all the rocks and we kept getting stuck. I would try to push us off and Sasha would paddle and suddenly we were going towards the rapid but facing away from it.

I felt like an idiot and no matter how we paddled, we could not get turned around. At least this way I wouldn’t have to see what lay ahead.

The next thing I know, we are being pulled and shoved through a massive amount of water. There are rocks everywhere but we keep going. Sasha is paddling and smacks me in the back of my head with her paddle. She doesn’t even know she’s done that as panic has set in on us and all we can do is scream. At some point we get turned around and before I know it, we are through it and it’s behind us.

I lie back in the raft and laugh. It was fun even though I screamed. Sasha is laughing too and we are very proud of ourselves.

We feel cocky.

Ryan and Vanessa come by. Ryan knows this river like the back of his hand and is an expert on rafting. We had tried to just follow them, but since we had no idea how to steer the damn raft, we were on our own.  My sister and Mike are somewhere behind us and we watch them go through the rapids easily. They come by and we start splashing each other. It’s very hot and I just want to jump in the river and swim. Our raft is full of water, so Ryan helps us to the bank and we get out and dump out all the water. We had to do this four times during our trip.

Then Ryan mentions two rapids coming up. One is called “The Widow Maker” and the other is called “The Mother.”

My heart stops. My new-found cockiness leaves me. Sasha and I stare at each other with our mouths open.

“The Widow Maker? The Mother?” I ask sheepishly.

Ryan nods and chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’ll both be fine,” and paddles away.

I can hear him chuckling.

We start paddling and Sasha and I keep telling each other we can do it. We are a couple of miles down the river and had already stopped a few times, had a snack, swam in the river and I was feeling confident and fine about my new expert abilities to maneuver a raft.

So off we go. The river is too calm for my taste because I know what’s up ahead.

TheWidow Maker.

The Mother.

We hear it off in the distance. We stop paddling and let the river pull us along. I have visions of helicopters pulling my dead, wet body from the rapids as it’s stuck on a rock and twisted in all directions.

The movie “Deliverance” begins to flash through my mind.

Then I see it ahead of us. I see people have pulled over to the banks.

They are smarter than us.

I turn around and look at Sasha.

We are going to go for it.

So we start paddling as fast as we can and stay behind Ryan. He sees us and smiles and waves. We wave back.

We hit a small rapid, but we hit it wrong. I look over and suddenly Sasha is floating past me, trying to grab the raft. In my hazy thinking, my first thought is “She’s not supposed to be swimming by” and I reach out my hand and grab her. She’s laughing and a bit scared and I can’t quite get my balance.

I can’t hold onto her and lose my grip. She’s right there but being pushed away. I grab my paddle and hold it out to her. She grabs it and I hold on. She finds the bottom of the river and stands up. I am so glad the water isn’t deep and I pull her in. We somehow manage to get her back into the raft. We start laughing and I tell her that’s what she gets for smacking my head so many times with her paddle.

We hit a calm spot. She tells me she’s fine and wasn’t that scared, just surprised because it happened so fast. One moment you’re fine and the next thing you’re thrown into the river.

I finally am grateful for the life jackets and so is she because we know “The Widow Maker” is next. All I can think of is if a smaller rapid knocked her out of the raft, what the hell is this next one going to be like?

I have a new attitude. We are going to do this one and the next one and it will be fun and I will like it. This river has begun to talk to me a little but I’m not sure if it’s taunting me and making fun of me or not.

I decide we are going to go through this and survive.

I paddle faster even though I am exhausted and sunburned and thirsty. We’ve been on the river all day and still have a long trip back.

Suddenly there is it and it’s huge. There are gigantic rocks everywhere, just pulling our raft towards them. There are people standing around, watching and taking pictures. I see my screaming face posted on YouTube and getting a million hits and shared on Facebook.

We are trying to figure out how to approach it, but it’s no use. The river has us and is pushing and pulling us along and we have no control. I hear Sasha say, over and over, “Oh geez, here we go” and she’s paddling and hits me in the head again with her paddle. She apologizes and it doesn’t bother me. Getting hit in the head with a paddle is the last thing I am worried about.

Then we are in it and get pushed everywhere. I get knocked off my ass and end up laying flat on my back, holding onto my paddle. Water is gushing in because we are now lodged between two rocks and can’t move. Sasha gets knocked on her ass too and we just lie there.

We can’t stop laughing. The water feels amazing. Our raft is filling up and we can’t move. Someone is up above on a rock, looking down at us. I cry out “I LOVE THIS!” and he smiles and suddenly we are moving again. We sit up and start cheering. There’s someone on the bank and they are taking pictures and laughing with us. We hold up our paddles and scream “We want to do it again” as we float by.

No one died. We survived and the river is my friend again. We pull over and dump the water out of our raft and laugh as we slip on the rocks and pull each other up.

We are strong women who just kicked the ass of the river with more to come. We know the next one is the hardest one. “The Mother” is waiting for us and we are going to beat it.

We have a few minutes to relax. We drink some water and look for our friends. My sister and Mike couldn’t go on after the first rapid, so I know they are OK. Ryan, Vanessa and Daisy are ahead of us. We get ahead of them and Ryan tells us “Go through the middle of the bridge and then stay left. Just stay left and you’ll be OK.” We act like we know how to do this.

Up ahead, right past the bridge, there is a guy and he’s flagging us. My heart stops. They need a flagman to get us through this? Oh, this is not good, but on we go.

We go through the middle of the bridge and figure out how to stay left. He gives us a high 5 and the next thing we know, we are going all over the place. We are hitting rocks and sailing over them.
We are screaming. We are afraid, alive and happy. We bounce here and there. I get knocked on my ass again at the same time the raft hits a rock and we are sailing through the air again. There is water everywhere and as I push myself up, I slam my hand into the side of the boat to get up and a feel one of my nails get pushed back and tear. It hurts but I don’t pay any attention.

We are then swept away and have no control. This is a huge one and it seems endless. I can’t see the end of it because we are being tossed and pulled and pushed in all directions. Water is slamming our raft, our faces and our bodies. We are drenched again, over and over. I hold on tight to the ropes on the side of the raft. Water gets in my mouth because I am laughing and screaming.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this alive. I didn’t care what happened because each and every moment of this was fun and I didn’t want it to stop. I felt every movement of it, every rock, twist and turn. Every time we got slammed and pushed I loved. I was outside my element and it felt great. All that mattered was the next turn, the next gushing wave of water to hit me in the face, the next rock that we were going to sail over.

And all too soon, it was over. We went through it and then it was done. I turned to Sasha and said “I want to do it again,” and she smiled and said she did too. We meant it.

The rest of the trip was relaxed with a few rapids here and there and by that time, Sasha and I felt like pro’s and almost yawned through them. We laid back and looked at the mountains and just let the raft go where it wanted to go. We were burnt, tired and thirsty. I made a mental note to bring more water the next time because I was coming back and I was going to do this over and over again.

At the end of the river, there are people waiting for us. They are smiling at us and helping us. These are wonderful people and I love them. They asked if we had fun and I tell them I want to turn around and do it again. They give us snacks and water and lemonade. My finger hurts and I look down at where my nail broke off at the quick:

This was the only casualty I had. No problem. I’ll shorten the other nails to make sure it all looks right.

My new attitude is that I am going to beat this river and I am going to beat anything in my life that I think is bigger and stronger than me.

Screw that old bad attitude from before,  right?

Attitude, baby. It’s all in the attitude.

It is very likely that if you’re a woman walking around on planet Earth these days, you will run into this problem.

The funny thing is, it will have absolutely nothing to do with who you are, what you do or even how you look.  Though I would suspect that if a bottom feeder does find you attractive, you’ll probably have a higher risk of this. That seems to be the nature of the beast. And I do mean beast. I am a writer and I pick my words carefully.

The first time it happened to me, I was young, naïve and it took me a few minutes to catch on to what had just happened.

I was in a business meeting with my boss and a very important client. This client was very wealthy and a dear friend of my boss. I was learning the ropes in the insurance industry and had gotten my license recently. My boss wanted me to learn about commercial insurance, so I would often tag along with him. I had to sit still, be quiet and take notes. This was not easy for me, but I did it anyway.

I am naturally inquisitive and like to ask questions when I don’t understand something, but because I was there to listen and learn I would just make notes on any questions I had.

The meeting consisted of my boss, the client and his son and their new partner. Let’s call the partner Dick.

Dick was a blow hard. He was arrogant and was rich beyond anything I could imagine on my meager salary. The client was in real estate and Dick decided he wanted to dabble in it, so he bought into the client’s business as a partner and had ordered the meeting with us to decide if we were good enough to now handle his needs. Yeah, HIS needs.

I admit I did not like this man but I kept my mouth shut. I did not like the way he talked to my boss or anyone else in the room, so I kept my gaze down because I am easy to read just by looking at my face. I maintained a pleasant smile and did my best to practice my poker face, which to this day I completely suck at.

Dick ran the entire meeting. He was belligerent and I could see the people in the room trying to appease him. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing and realized we weren’t going to be able to convince him to keep us on as his insurance agents. I could tell he was there just to let all of us know that we weren’t good enough and that he had someone else he wanted to use.

Loosing this account was going to cost our company over $100,000.00 in commissions a year. I could see what was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. I kept my mouth shut and my head down.

Dick was sitting to my right, at the head of the table. Of course he was at the head of the table. My boss was to my left and the client and his son were sitting across from me

About an hour into the meeting, I suddenly feel a hand on my knee and then felt it go up my leg and give my thigh a squeeze. I almost jumped out of my chair. No one noticed as I snapped my head towards Dick. He kept his gaze steady as he talked to the clients while he rubbed my leg under the table.

I tried to move away but he held on. I put my hand under the table and pinched his hand as hard as I could. He jerked but let go. I moved my chair back and away from him. I said nothing because I didn’t know what to say or do.

I sat there confused, hurt and angry. Part of me wanted to get up and walk out but I knew that would look bad for our company. Another part of me wanted to find my nail file in my purse and stab him in his leg with it and another part of me wanted to slap him across his face.

Since I couldn’t decide what to do, I remained silent and I thought. I thought long and hard.

Towards the end of the meeting, I got up and poured myself a cup of coffee. I sat back down. The meeting was ending and I sat very still.

As everyone was standing up and starting to shake hands, I stood up before Dick did and accidentally poured my cup of hot steaming coffee onto his lap. Watching him jump up and scream made my heart sing. Watching him jump around was icing on the cake.

I had spoken to him and only him and I knew I had just put the last nail in our coffin.

I batted my eyes and told him how sorry I was and that it was just an accident. He glared at me, muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room.

I kept apologizing and everyone said not to worry. I secretly grinned all the way back to the office. My boss was very understanding and said he knew we were going to lose the account regardless of the coffee incident but admitted he thought it was funny. He also knew we had lost account long before we walked into the meeting. I learned from him that sometimes you just can’t control what a client will do and the best thing is to just let them do what they want to do and don’t feel you had failed.

We did lose the account the next week.

That was fine by me. We ended up writing another large account. Our doors remained opened, we weathered the storm and kept our integrity in.

Plus I learned how to handle sexual harassment all by myself. Yeah me!

So never underestimate the power of a pissed off woman.

If you sexually harass us, we can handle it. It just takes a cup of coffee and life is good again.

Will date for food

Posted: June 21, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

Yes, I have done this and though I would rather die than admit this to the men I have done this to, I will say that a good friend of mine just told me about doing the same thing.

I was sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon with my trusted laptop, writing and trying to put a story together for a writing contest. I was feeling the usual feelings of wracking my brain trying to be brilliant rather than just write the damn story when my phone rang.

This was the distraction I needed so badly and I answered the phone, knowing it was my friend Debra because I have really cool ring tones for every contact in my phone. This is technology that I love because I don’t even have to look at the phone to know who is calling nd depending on my mood, I either answer or let it go to voicemail. To me, this is the ultimate in being lazy and I cherish it.

I answered because I was just getting absolutely nowhere with my story plus I was feeling guilty about not writing much that week because I work 2 jobs and if I don’t write enough, I start to feel emotionally sluggish. Sort of a stale feeling comes over me and then I start to get nervous about even going near my laptop unless it is to play solitaire.

I grabbed the phone, hit the talk button and say hello.

“Susan, guess where I am going?”

I can tell Debra is in her car.

“You are leaving town, moving to Nevada to work as a hooker at a ranch.” Debra had recently been laid off from her job because her boss had died and the family was cutting costs by bringing in relatives, have them do the work and not pay them as much.

I hear her belly laugh. “No, I am on my way to meet a guy for a blind date.”

Debra and I have been doing the internet dating scene and often compare stories. In fact, many of my friends tell me their stories and then ask me to write about them. It’s a strange little hobby of mine. Writing stories about my life and other people.

I immediately ask her for all the details about this new guy. Debra and I are very different in our approach to internet dating. I hate it. She likes it. I really don’t want to meet any of them. She loves to meet as many people as possible and as quickly as possible. I only meet them after weeks of emailing and then maybe a few weeks of talking on the phone and then if I am still interested, I might meet them. But by then they have “moved on” (a very popular saying for internet dating along with “He’s just not that in to you” when the men you are talking to suddenly disappear) and I forget about the free website I am on until another email arrives from someone I don’t know who has just sent me their phone number or instant messaging address and is just dying to “chat”, which is another term that I don’t quite understand.

Hence, she has a lot of dates and I have very few.

“Well, I’m driving half way to meet him and he’s really good looking and that bothers me, but I’m going anyway.”

“Ah, yeah, the ‘good looking’ problem. How come you are making an exception for this one?” I ask. Both Debra and I don’t like to date drop dead gorgeous men because, well, it makes us a bit uncomfortable and very often, they haven’t developed much of a personality because they don’t have to. Women can get away with this much easier than men because men are men and I don’t think it needs much more of an explanation than that.

“Because I’m hungry and we are meeting for dinner.”

“So, you are now dating for food, is that it?” I say as I start laughing. I knew just what she was talking about but I had never told anyone that I have done it many times.

I hear her laugh again and I know this is why she is going. She’s broke, she doesn’t know what to do or where to go and this will be a nice distraction. It has to be something like that because she said he was really good looking.

“Yes, I guess you could say that. I figure I’ll meet him, get something to eat because I haven’t eaten all day and maybe have some fun.”

“Look Deb, women have been doing this for thousands of years and I think you should go for it. Be sure to order a huge meal so you can get a doggie bag and have some food for tomorrow. Be nice to him, don’t be rude and have some fun. Who knows, you might really like him and hit it off.”

She is quiet for a second and then says “Do you really think it’s OK to do this? I mean, I haven’t really talked to him much, but he seems like a nice guy.”

“Hell, Deb, you’ve married men for less than that.”

“That’s true” she says.

“Yes, it’s fine. You are meeting in a public place, driving yourself and then coming home. Just don’t do something stupid and call me as soon as you are leaving.”

She agrees and hangs up and I continue with my day on the couch with my laptop and some Ben & Jerry’s for dinner.

About 2 hours later, she calls back and I grab the phone.

“So Deb, how was dinner?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I never got to eat.”

This is not good and she sounds distant and I am suddenly worried.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Everything is fine but you will not believe what happened.”

She proceeds to tell me the story. She arrives at the restaurant and he was all ready seated and waiting for her. The first thing she notices was that he was just finishing a beer and yet she recalls he was adamant that he didn’t drink. They greet each other and he doesn’t offer her anything to drink, so she goes to the bar herself to order something.

As she sits down, the waitress gives him another drink and while they are talking, he finishes that one and orders another one. He is even better looking in person.

She is watching this and though she doesn’t really care if he drinks or not, she is starting to sense that he definitely has a drinking problem and says nothing.

The waitress comes over to take their order for dinner and he blows her off and tells her to come back later. They chat for a while and then Debra gets up to use the bathroom and he follows her.

When she comes out, he is standing there, leering at her and grabs her butt and pulls her towards him. His tongue is sticking out and laying flat on his chin and he takes his right hand, grabs the back of her head and pushes her lips onto his tongue.

While she is telling me this, I feel myself getting angrier and angrier but grateful she is fine.

“Sue it was like kissing a cows tongue! His tongue was just laying there on his chin and he pushed my face into it and it happened so fast I didn’t know what to do. Then I could tell he was really turned on and all I could think of was to get away from him as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, but what about the doggie bag?” I asked. “You mean to tell me you drove all the way over there and you still didn’t get any food?”

She starts laughing. “No, I didn’t get any food! I pulled away and walked back to the table and grabbed my purse and left. The son of a bitch follows me out and wants to know where I want to go! He actually thought I wanted to get in his car with him and go somewhere else!”

I shake my head and find it hard to believe that anyone would act this way and then I remember several first dates of my own. I am the Queen of first dates and rarely have a second date.

“Are you kidding me? He wanted you to get in his CAR?” I ask.

“Yes! So I told him I would just follow him and he gets in his car and starts driving and I pulled out of the parking lot and took off the other way.”

“Let me guess” I say. “He started calling you after about 10 seconds, right?”


“You didn’t answer, did you?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Hell no! I’m still on my way home and he’s called about 5 times and sent 3 text messages, wondering if I got lost. The idiot is probably pulled over on the side of the road, waiting for me.”

This gets me to giggling, just visualizing this man who looks like he just stepped out of a GQ ad, drunk and by the side of the road, sending text after text and constantly hitting the “talk” button on his cell phone, waiting for Deb to come around the corner with absolutely no clue about his offensive and disturbing behavior.

“Well, I’m glad you are OK.”

“I’m fine, just hungry, that’s all. Really ticks me off I didn’t get any food out of this. Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Deb, with you, there will always be a next time.”

“Sue, you have to promise me something.”

I already know what it is, but I’ll bite.

“Sure. What is it?”

“That the next time I decide to date for food, you will remind me of this date and stop me.”

“But what if you are really hungry and have no money?”

I can actually hear her thinking about this as she drives down the road on her cell phone.

“Send me some money and I promise to go have dinner by myself.”

“I promise.”

Discipline sucks

Posted: June 12, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: ,

It really does.

Of course, I am saying this because I need to get my writing done for the day, the house cleaned, laundry done along with a ton of emails and text messages to answer and a few phone calls to make.

Plus I have a ton of reading to catch-up on, blogs to read and books to finish and new ones to start.

All on my day off and instead, what am I doing?

Having fun on Twitter (y’all should follow me) along with checking Facebook every 5 minutes and drinking coffee and thinking about getting things done.

I am also working hard on convincing myself why I really don’t need to go work out today at Curves.

I am losing the argument with myself as I sit here and stare at my workout clothes. They stare back at me, I just know they do.

But anytime I start this conversation with myself, I get up. I take off all my clothes and I stand in front of my full length mirror. It takes me a minute to open my eyes and look.

I lose the argument and my gym clothes win. I quickly grab them (I always wear a very long and baggy T-shirt) and out the door I go. I try to remove the image of what I just saw as I race towards one hour of hell.

The machines are evil and I curse them the entire time. I don’t like to admit that they work and sometimes I almost cry when I think about the machine that makes me do lunges, over and over again with all that weight on my shoulders.

I am over 35 so therefore I am fighting gravity. I vow to win.

In addition to all of that, this is the help I get when I am working:

The paw you see belongs to Boots. For some unknown feline reason, he has to always to have his paw on my hand while I work. Cute, yes? Well, it is for about the first 10 seconds, but after that, not so funny.

But I normally get him to settle on sleeping on my lap with his pinhead on my arm. I manage to write in a very odd position but somehow it gets done.

His purring is soothing and I’ll take love anyway I can get it.

I often ask myself why work so hard on this book and blog? I mean, what is that all about?

I can’t answer the question other than to say that it makes me happy when someone reads what I wrote and they like it. It is as simple as that. There isn’t really anything else to it.

So I would like to say that I love all 4 of my subscribers (5 if you count me) and please give yourselves a group hug. Really, do that because I think it’s great that you read what I write.

I don’t care about the numbers or how many I have. One would be enough for me. Scouts honor.

The discipline aspect of this is hard. There are so many other things to do such as…well, shit there’s part of the problem.

The fact of the matter is, I would much rather write than do most anything else.

So thank you for reading this.

I still have to get 2,000 words done today (blogging does not count) and somehow I will get it done.

From where I sit, I can see the dishes needing to be done. The floor needs to be swept. Litter boxes need a cleaning, dusting will be a nightmare and then there’s the bathroom. Ah yes, the bathroom is calling to me.

The day is finally starting to feel like spring after all the rain recently, so it’s time to put on a T-shirt and shorts and sneak a peek at my legs to make sure they are presentable to the world and quarters to find for the laundromat.

It’s also time to put my thoughts of the ex-boyfriend out of my mind.

I was putting something away yesterday. I opened the drawer to the night stand and saw condoms.

It made me miss him. Big time.

I stared down at them and wondered if I would ever need to use these again and should I throw them away?

I kept them and closed the drawer.

I felt a small smile on my face.

There is always hope.

How to turn 56

Posted: June 10, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , , ,

Yep, today’s my birthday and it’s official – I am 56 years old.

Not quite sure how it happened, but it has.

I’m on “the other side” of 50. That means I am no longer in my early 50’s but now “approaching 60.”

Very strange concept. Can’t say that I like it and can’t say that it bothers me.

So, what’s the best way to celebrate turning 56?  Like this:


The correct way to turn 56 - party at Six Flags

So, that’s what I did. 11 of us spent last Saturday at Six Flags in the pouring rain and loved every minute of it.

The other great thing about my birthday is that I share it with Emma, my great niece who was born on the 9th but I am convinced she really was born on my birthday and that there is a great conspiracy to keep that fact quiet.

So Emma, who just turned 8, not only shares the same last name as I but the same birthday and nothing will convince me otherwise.

It was a great day that my sister arranged. We had a blast, had a wonderful dinner and I don’t remember that much after the 3rd drink. Well, I do, but it’s a bit fuzzy. Thank God my niece Vanessa was there to drive.

Some of these wonderful people sat in a hot tub or swam after dinner. I didn’t have a bathing suit to bring because, well, first of all, I threw them all away last year. I had lost a lot of weight and there was no way I was going to wear the “fat chick suit” for any reason.

Secondly, most women around my age really aren’t all excited of getting into a bathing suit. We’ll do it, but it’s not something we jump up and down about. Maybe if everyone else wearing one is our age, then it’s not such a big deal.

But to put on a suit when you don’t know who’ll be looking at your ass ? I might have IF I had a really hot suit to wear, but I didn’t and I didn’t want to spend my birthday weekend trying on bathing suits. I wanted to have a good time and not be stressed about my thighs.

No one looks good trying on bathing suits at Target with the harshest lights possible shining down on you in a little room with mirrors that make you look 10 pounds heavier and show every single flaw you have.

So, I passed on the idea and instead just hung-out, had fun, ate too much and enjoyed the company of some of the most wonderful people in the world.

Now I am getting all the birthday wishes on Facebook and it makes me smile. I forgot today was my birthday. It was so-last-week, but it really is today. I really am 56 today and I feel like it should matter, but it doesn’t.

I thought I would be stressed or worried about it, but I’m not. I’m glad I’m still here. I’m amazed I made it past 40, so everything after that is icing on the cake.

I love my life and there isn’t much I would change about it, so I really can’t complain. Well, OK, there is one thing I would change and that would be having someone to share it with who was human, not a pet, and a male. That would be kind of cool I think.

But then again, maybe not. The jury is still out on that.

And that’s cool with me.