Monday Dare: It’s almost cake time, y’all

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Don’t be a quitter.

I’m full of ideas. Okay, fine, I’m comfortable enough with you to admit: I’m full of shitty ideas. I should probably be locked away with no access to television or internet or people. Because invariably, it leads to no good.

Like speedskating.

Last year, after watching the Winter Olympics, I decided speedskating was my new life calling. I’m Korean. I figured it was in my blood. I know, guys. Stop laughing. 

I’m not sure how Harv kept a straight face when I told him. In fact, he wholeheartedly supported my new Important Life Goal. He helped me track down the right coach, came with me to pick out fancy new skates, and cheered me on whenever I came home with a new bruise or a broken arm. I’m just kidding about the broken arm. I didn’t break any bones. Which, looking back, is quite a surprise since I spent more time facedown on the ice than whizzing around the rink.

I did my best to take my new career path seriously. I went to bed early so I could get up at the crack of dawn to practice. I never drank the night before a lesson. No hangovers for this “athlete.” I bought pads that I could tuck into my tights which gave me a quarter inch of extra protection from my tailbone down to my knees. My coach didn’t object to the pads. But, she did like to point out that the other 12-year-old boys I was practicing with didn’t need pads. I just ignored that bitch and kept right on rocking those pads.

How good did I get? After practicing five days a week for several months, my coach suggested I might have an inner-ear problem because I had no balance. She took me aside and informed me that the boys fought behind my back not to have me on their relay team. That’s probably one of the clearest indicators you should quit something- when you cause bad blood among tween boys.

It’s still a struggle for me to wake up every day and realize I’m not going to the Olympics.

I’ve never stuck with anything for a long time. Some people might call that a weakness. Those are also the same people I push in the face.

My yearlong project is ending this Thursday. I originally planned to only do this blog for a year to keep me accountable. But, I’m going to keep it up because I’ve enjoyed it so much. I’m grateful for your friendship and your support. I may be addicted to it. I wish I knew how to quit you. 

Does that mean I’m going to continue with the no shopping project? Fuck no, yo. My socks are wearing thin.

However, I’m continuing with the Monday Dares because even though most have been pretty spectacular failures, each new challenge thrills me. And sometimes makes me cry. But that’s beside the point.

So, I need your help. I’d love your Monday Dare suggestions. It can be anything. If you like something I’ve already done, you are free to suggest it again. Maybe I’ll add a twist. Or, I’ll just try not to fail at it this time. I’m down for whatever. Well, almost anything. I did get a suggestion this year to sign up for a prisoner penpal. Come on, folks. They’re already locked up and serving time. Do I have to torture them with my mundane letters too?

Have you ever started a venture or hobby that didn’t unfold quite as you expected?

P.S. That hilarious picture at the top of the post today? It’s from Bluntcard.com. Mike, the creative genius behind Bluntcard, created a pimptastic card for the one-year anniversary of The Project. I’ll be revealing it on Thursday. Mike has also turned it into a magnet, and I’m giving away 50 magnets on the Flourish in Progress Facebook page on Thursday.

Monday Dare: big boobs, big eyes, and quiet

Every Monday, I’m picking from the List of Things to Do, Places to Go, Possible Acts that Help, and Possible Fun to Have. It’s a list I made before The Project started, and I’m still adding to it. If you have suggestions, please feel free to throw them my way. I’m calling the list my Monday Dares, as I get overwhelmed just looking at the words “challenge” or “goal.”

This week: Gather advice for my newly single friends.

I’ve always prided myself on my extremely high dating standards.

#1 Breathing? Check. #2 Almost all Two or three teeth? Check. #3 Lack of Only just a little body odor? Check. Shiz-nits, I think we have a winner.

Those were the rigorous standards Chet had to meet before I agreed to drive myself all the way across town to pick him up in my rickety Dodge Intrepid with two tires dangerously close to calling it quits.

Chet’s mom answered the door. Her door. She apologized for his tardiness, then took both my hands before looking directly into my eyes and whispered that Chet was enduring a “special situation.”

Chet breezed past his mom, giving her a pat on the head, before motioning me outside. He wanted to “get this shit started” because his DVR was nearly full, and he wasn’t sure it was going to record the game.

While waiting for our Bloomin’ Onion, Chet listed the qualities he liked in a girl. Big boobs, big eyes, and quiet. Reflexively, I opened my eyes just a little wider. Clearly, this guy was a winner. I was willing to make a little effort to keep him around.

Before I had a chance to ask about his “special situation,” Chet volunteered the information. He had hemorrhoids. Actually, he was unsure for days until he asked his mom to check right before our date. After a visual inspection, she was able to confirm his suspicions. The date went downhill from there. All I could think about was Chet’s mom peering at his private area.

Chet helped me add #4 to my list of dating standards: Keep your asshole to yourself. I just hated that my high standards hampered yet another chance for a meaningful relationship.

Recently, some of my dear friends have found themselves in the “newly single” division of the dating game. Through chats and emails and texts, we’ve been sharing dating horror stories, past and present. Some lament on their non-existent dating standards. Others are considering lowering their impossibly high ones.

I told them I would reach out to y’all this week to get your advice for the newly single and to share any personal standards you set while you were dating. What’s in your Hell Yes or Hell No categories? Anything in the Hell Maybes?

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image via moss.fm