Advice From Aunt Di

Gotta love her random messages of comments and advice…

Here’s the latest:

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[It’s obviously too late for that. He’s met me for more than 5 minutes.]

And sorry, Aunt Di, but Tara and Sam now know you’re butting in. Xoxo

Gossip Girl

Slimey-Poo

I’ve decided I really need to stop creating unflattering nicknames for guys I meet. I don’t just refer to them by their nicknames in my blog posts… it translates into real life. My friends start calling them by their nicknames because they can’t remember their real names, then it turns into me actually forgetting what their real names are (especially since I either don’t save their names in my phone, or enter their contact info with their nicknames). I’ve created awkward situations for myself with the nicknaming; I need to reevaluate this method.

In any case, we are going to rewind back to “Soulmate” (this post), because he is still lingering, and after learning his last name, I accidentally started referring to him as “Slimey.” For the record, that’s not his actual last name…. But last Wednesday he asked me to meet up for a couple of beers. Since the first time we met was in a pretty big group-situation, this was the first time we sat down and really chatted one-on-one. My original assessment of him seemed to be accurate… quietly witty and sarcastic, midwestern values and accent, head on his shoulders. Short. His sarcastic attitude makes me wonder how he is with his patients. I asked if he’s nice to them, he said he is… but then followed it up with a story involving pissing off an elderly woman, and her requesting a switch to another doctor the previous day…. soooo… ??
Our date was short and sweet, as he had a work obligation that night (or so he says). The next night (Thursday), Carissa was working on the traveling sausage truck she does part-time. She somehow duped me into coming to where the truck was parked after work, telling me it was at a “cool event.” I believed her because she has been at some pretty cool locations based on her past descriptions. It was at some apartment complex downtown. That’s the only info she gave me. For some reason I trusted that this “event” was going to be “cool,” so I decided to head down there… on my favorite form of transportation: the bus. Slimey texted when I was getting ready to leave my house and asked what I was doing that night. I told him I was going to some event my sister was working at downtown. He said he was actually going downtown too, to watch the football game at his buddy’s place. I told him he should take the bus with me. I called it an “adventure” to entice him. He said no, and offered me a ride. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. And then I said no. I didn’t want to go in a car. As I’m almost at my bus stop where the “cool event” is, Slimey texts and asks where downtown I’m heading. I give him the crossroads of the stop I’m getting off at, and he says, “That’s where my buddy’s place is.”
At first I thought he was joking, or exaggerating… like “oh yeah, it’s in that part of town.” But he convinced me he was being serious, and asked if I’d be at the Vantage Point complex. I said I had no idea. I really had no idea. I also had no idea that this “cool event” I was going to was literally a sausage truck sitting in a circular driveway outside the lobby of a fancy apartment complex called Vantage Point. FML.
First, I yell at Carissa for luring me downtown on a bus to watch her serve sausages to rich pricks. Then I realize that this is the exact place Slimey is coming. Literally, he walks up to the front door about 10 minutes later. Like, come on…. what are the chances of this? And what must he think of me telling him I’m going to a “cool event,” and then lurking outside an apartment complex with a big sausage truck? I introduced him to my sister, and as she hugged him I heard her say, “It’s nice to meet you, Slimey!” I threw a super dirty look her way; he didn’t know I called him Slimey. alsfdkjldasfjadls;kfja;ldkfjsa
He brought beer, so we sat outside on the curb by the truck and had a one together. Then he invited me in to hang out with his friends. At first, I declined, so he headed up alone, but a while later when I realized there was no bathroom in the lobby of this building, I asked him to come get me.
NERD ALERT!!!!! I went up to his friend’s apartment, used the restroom, then sat on the couch with the nerdiest group of guys I’ve met in a while. They were his doctor friends. I was in nerd heaven. If I had known them better, I would have interjected into their conversations several times with my own two cents, but as the semi-uninvited token female in a room full of guys watching football, I was a quiet observer for the most part. I didn’t stay long, Carissa was ready to leave a little bit later, so I thanked them for the hospitality and left with her. I was surprised that Slimey had such dorky friends. It made me like him a little more I think.
The next night, Friday, was my birthday. I went out with Carissa and the girl who used to live on my couch (Erin)… We started at a dive bar and played every Meatloaf song the jukebox could handle. Slimey met us out for a bit but didn’t stay long because he was working super early shifts over the weekend. I think he gets shorter every time I see him. Or maybe my shoes get taller? Or maybe both. He still has my interest, but I don’t know how much longer that will last. We have a PSU/OSU rivalry game this weekend which I think we might watch together… we’ll see.
In other news… well, there’s other news. But I’ll save that for another post, because I’m pretty sure I’ve already hit my limit on this one [hashtag: sleeping yet?]
xoxo
Gossip Girl

 

JR is Back (Kinda)… and a Day in the Desert

JR finally got back from Amsterdam after his 2-week work trip on Friday evening.  He asked me to go out with him that night, because he would be out-of-town Saturday and Sunday, but I already had plans with friends, so I told him he was welcome to join.

I don’t know how he did it, with a 9-hour time difference from Amsterdam to California, but he got off the plane, showered, and actually made it out.  And he was pretty fun too.  He’s the whitest of white boys, Irish as they come, but thinks he has dance moves.  No.

The night was fun.  He has been non-stop talking about Lobster Taco Night at some joint ’round here on Wednesday nights, so I guess we made tentative plans to go tonight.  I don’t consider things plans unless they’re set in stone, and even though he reminded me yesterday, there has been no time or location set, so as far as I’m concerned, I still don’t have plans tonight.

As far as his job goes, he explained he usually has about two weeks here in San Diego, then two weeks away, which he claims is ruining his life and is the reason he’s single.  That’s yet to be seen; I’m sure there are plenty of other reasons he’s single.  So I was thinking over the next two weeks when he’s home, I’ll probably see him a couple of times, figure out if it’s worth continuing to get to know each other.  But doesn’t seem it’s going to go that way… he texted me yesterday with a couple of curse words followed by:  “I just found out I need to go back to the Netherlands on Sunday for another two weeks, then straight to Dallas for 2 days when I get back.”

Wait WHAT?!  This is just getting obnoxious.  He’s pissed and ready to quit, but due to some other details, he’s biting his tongue and waiting until after September 30th.  I told him he should just move to Amsterdam (was that rude?).  He said they’ve been trying to get him there, and even told him they’ll have a 3-series convertible waiting for him if he goes for good (whatever that is).

I feel like he should just wait until he starts a more normal job before he tries to date for real.  He’s made it clear he wants a serious relationship, and is at the point in his life where he is ready to settle down, but I don’t know how he expects to get to know someone when his job requires like 90% travel.  I guess that’s for him to figure out.  Not me.

So anyway…

Monday night I’m sitting on the couch with my roommate V…. our couch is located 10 blocks from the Pacific Ocean.  I’m going through my work calendar and complaining….

“Ugh, I have to go to Rancho Mirage tomorrow… that’s like 3 hours away….”

V goes… “Oh… where is that?  West?”

I think for a few seconds longer than I should have, look at her a little funny and say…. “No… East.”

“Oh… yeah… I guess that woulda meant it was in the ocean.”

I kind of just wish I had a recorder on whenever V is around… she definitely keeps me laughing (and scratching my head).

So I had A LOOTTTTTT of flippin’ time in the car yesterday.  This is time I use productively to sing and dance and make up fake scenarios in my head with a British accent.  I drove 3 hours just to be a caterer, carry pizzas and salad through the parking lot in 116 degree heat (this is not an exaggeration; I was in the desert), and then wait TWO HOURS to speak with a doctor who gave me TWO MINUTES of his time.  And I had to be nice to people the entire time.

I make a couple of more stops in the desert before I decide its time to start the drive home.  Wouldn’t ya know it?  I get on the freeway and after a couple of miles, traffic STOPS.  Why is traffic STOPPED in the middle of no where?  Oh probably because it drizzled for about 30 seconds and the desert folk got freaked out and ran into a pole.  So I start noticing people in front of me getting in the shoulder of the road and BACKING UP…. they’re all backing up onto the oncoming ramp.  I’m confused.  More and more people start doing this from further ahead.  I’m just approaching the end of the ramp and wondering if I should do it too.  People in this state are SO WEIRD.

I opened my window to try to ask someone why we were all backing up to go the wrong way onto a one way ramp, but he didn’t stop to answer me, so I figured, ok, well if everyone else is doing it, I’ll do it too.

Traffic

After I got off, I didn’t know where I was going.  There were just mountains and sand everywhere.  I started following a couple of cars down a narrow road, and after about a half a mile, I reached the end of the road, which was a patch of sand with a dead-end sign.  If it were any darker, I would have thought I was going to be murdered.  I was literally in the middle of the desert.

DEAD END

 

I turned around and got on another road… which eventually lead back onto the non-moving freeway.  And I was still 2 hours and 47 minutes from home.  F…M…L….

I had all intentions of joining a hot yoga studio this week.   In recent weeks my exercise has consisted of:

-Riding my bike to the beach

-Digging a hole for my butt to fit into at the beach

-Lifting a pint of beer from the bar to my mouth

By this point of the evening, there was no way I was getting back in time for a yoga class, and between the traffic and being nice to people I didn’t feel like being nice to all day, I was much less interested in stretching and breathing as I was interested in kicking and punching… so I sought out the closest LA Fitness with a kickboxing class, and hauled ass to make it in time.

I pulled my usual quick-change act in the car in order to save time in the locker room, and was fortunate to get an instructor who encouraged YELLING while kicking and punching.  Perfect.

I left in a much better mood and only had an hour and 45 minutes left to drive.

Thank goodness my day is contained in San Diego today… don’t think I could handle a back-to-back desert day.  DesSert… maybe… mmmm…. dessert.

Tata for now…

xoxo Gossip Girl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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