07.14.11

i have psychic powers. better be nice to me.

Chances are fairly good that I’ve been endowed with psychic abilities. I buy a lottery ticket once in a while, and it floors me every single time because I’m usually only about 30 or 40 off each time they call out a number. I might guess a “29” is about to appear and out pops a “3.” I mean, what are the chances that I’d be so close? Calm down, I’m not trying to brag. I’m just telling you that I’m special, and it’s a daily struggle just to keep a level head about it.

I’m also pretty good at other types of magical thinking. Sometimes, when I’m having a particularly bad day, I pat my television as I’m entering the den and will it to give me some sugar, baby. As I turn it on, I use my brain power to get what I want, and voila, like fucking magic, an episode of House Hunters appears on the screen. I told Harv about this special ability once. He said it wasn’t that special since House Hunters usually airs for hours each night, usually around the time I sit down to watch television. Of course it starts airing right around the time I start watching television, Harv. Do you not see the connection?

And to think I was going to use my powers to help him out during World of Warcraft.

I firmly believe that as long as my family never, ever lays around the house in their “outside clothes,” and they change immediately into their “inside clothes” as soon as they come home, no one is ever going to get sick. I know this to be true because the one time I woke up with a nasty bout of pink eye, I walked around the day before putting away groceries for almost 12 or 13 minutes in my “outside” jeans. Never again, friends, never again.

I’m aware that some people dub this sort of behavior as OCD or just plain strange, but it’s pretty clear to me that these are the folks without magical powers. Jealousy is an ugly beast.

Any quirky habits? Magical thinking rituals? Psychic powers?

image via blueq.com
July 14, 2011
07.11.11

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?

On Facebook? Let’s connect!
image via moss.fm

July 11, 2011