The Gypsy Has Landed

Posted on April 8, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

There are ups and downs to living like a gypsy, and I’m not just referring to the take-offs and landings of Virgin Airlines. Things change when you’re moving from place to place and I’m not being kept in the loop. It’s nobody’s fault… I can’t expect to be kept up to speed on every change but today it presented a problem!

I was taking care of Sister’s mini dog today while picking up my car in Simi Valley, grocery shopping for my stay, and picking up my mail. Upon returning to Sister’s with Mini (Mini is a ‘he’ so it’s a good thing he’s a dog because he wouldn’t be thrilled at being referred to by Mini) I unlocked the door and accidentally dropped Mini, because I’m not used to small dogs and I had to run to turn off the burglar alarm… and within’ seconds I had become ‘the burglar’.

Upon my stern advice, after breaking up with the boyfriend who had her parking pass, key, and alarm code… she changed her alarm code, BUT forgot to tell me. She’s had the same code for two decades, so I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I was doing wrong…

HAVE YOU HEARD THE SOUND OF AN ADT ALARM SYSTEM????? It sounds like 10,000 bats screeching into a megaphone right next to your ear! Mini was freaking out! I was freaking out! I couldn’t turn it off, and then it hit me- ADT was about to call me for her password and I wasn’t sure that I knew what it was. AND to top it off Sister doesn’t get AT&T reception at her place, so as I’m trying to find reception bars to call her, the home phone rings and of course it’s ADT, and I gave them the password and it was WRONG! I told them I was her sister and I was given the number of letters in the password and I was guessing and couldn’t get it right.

Even though this is all happening within 120 seconds, it felt like forever, because the screeching bats wouldn’t turn off. I grab Mini and take him outside, forgetting to put a leash on him because I’m too frazzled, get a few bars and call Sister who doesn’t pick up and because I’m an iPhone user, I have no idea what her work number is because I just press ‘Sister Work’ so I couldn’t call her office.  OY! I texted her– YOUR ALARM IS GOING OFF!!! She called me and told me the code and the password just as it turned off. Then I told her to call ADT so they wouldn’t send the police and I cart me away, because as Sister was in her car on the phone with me, ADT called her and went to her voicemail.

Sister was trying to get in touch with ADT, but being in her car, she kept getting the wrong number of ADT and they couldn’t transfer her and she couldn’t write down the correct number.

Three minutes later the alarm went off again and I had to call her for the code because in all the confusion I had forgotten it. Now had this been a true rom com, the police would have arrived and taken me away, some shenanigans would have ensued and I would have fallen in love with an adorable Beverly Hills Cop…

But it’s not, it’s my life, and five minutes later, I had turned off the alarm, developed a terrible headache from the screeching bats, ate half a bag of Trader Joes, gluten free hickory smoke potato chips, and then fell asleep for an hour on the couch.

©2011

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How Does A Romantic Comedy Girl Do A Lap Dance?

Posted on April 5, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

I know it sounds like it’s a set up for a joke with a punch line… and of course when a romantic comedy girl does do a lap dance it is a set up for a joke… unfortunately the joke is usually on her. But you decide for yourself…

First, let me explain why the lap dance. It’s kind of a “bad girl” thing to do, not really something that would make it to the big screen in a rom com, but FWB moved into his new house and I wanted to do something special to christen the occasion. And after the “Beatles incident” (see Friend With Benefits Meets Psychic entry March 26) he kept teasing that he really wanted one, sooo….

I had to pick out something to wear, and decide if I was going to strip or just ‘come out’ in it. I ended up digging out something, that I didn’t know I had, nor do I remember wearing and it’s quite possible that it could be from college… and that I haven’t worn it since. Or maybe I bought it and never wore it. It’s a black corset with spaghetti straps, beaded in the front and it has garter straps. I however, had nothing to attach to the garter straps, but figured he wouldn’t care, I packed a black lace g-string and my four inch spiked heels as well. Yes, packed, I realized I couldn’t wear it underneath clothes and strip because 1. I’d most likely fall in my heels which would be totally un-sexy 2. It was too ornate to wear under clothing and would be totally obvious… and 3. The soundtrack gave me an idea…

Yes, I created a sound track. It’s called a lap DANCE, so I needed music. I literally spent an hour and 45 minutes choosing the songs, the song order, the costume change (yes, there’s a costume change… wait for it), and visualizing my dance moves in my head.

I think that’s when it became a “romantic comedy scene.” Ever try to do choreography in your head and then when you get on the dance floor you realize… Wow! I’m so NOT Britney Spears? It was sort of like that…

We have different taste in music, so I chose a classic rock band that I new he would like for my “prep” song. By prep I mean I had to get changed and I wanted to build anticipation. Turns out I technically didn’t need the prep song because he had to take a shower so I got changed while he was in the shower.

Obstacle 1: Whoever set up the AV in the house did a crappy job. The CD player would not work if the TV was turned off. I was not about to do a lap dance with Charlie Waffles in the background! Not only that, but there was no ‘back’ button on his remote, so in order for me to not allow the second song to come on (that was my prep time for him) I had to hold down the remote rewind button until the song was at the beginning.

Obstacle 2: Chairless. I know spell check says that’s not a word, but to do a lap dance you need a good chair, once that’s narrow (since I’m small) and one that’s high enough for one to dance around. Unfortunately, all he had in his bedroom was a bench. I figured, I can make this work. As he showered, I pulled out my Bret Michaels glitter scarves and tied one to each side of the bench. My thought was that I was going to have to bound his hands because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep them off of me and I wouldn’t be able to finish my dance. Turns out…

Obstacle 3: he slipped today and pulled his groin, so the scarves were actually helping him sit up, and not slide off of the bench.

Out he came from the shower, sexy body wrapped in a towel and I pulled him to the bench to tie his hands as song number two came on.. Metallica.

Obstacle 4: It was then that I realized the scarves were way too long for my purpose, but I didn’t let it stop me.. I looked at him with a sexy stare and started criss-crossing the scarves in fancy patterns before tying them in a knot. FWB said, “I see you’ve done this before.”  I haven’t… so I took that as a ‘good-save’ with the awkwardly long scarves.

Metallica started getting heavier and I was remembering my choreography from my “mental rehearsal” and this was about the time I was supposed to be standing over him whipping my hair around when…

Obstacle 5: I realized the bench was way too low for dancing around, because I was towering over him in my 4 inch heels and every time I did a ‘sexy squat’ my knees cracked, which reminded me why professional lap dancers are in their twenties. But by now the song was coming to and end and I had to figure something out because song three was starting..

Ah the familiar screech of the first few notes of Britney’s Toxic. I could feel my channeling of Beyonce beginning to simmer from within. Girlfriends, I had just taken yoga and I was ready to do some never before seen stretches in my high heels.

Obstacle 6: There’s a reason why lap dancers don’t dance on plush carpeting. I’ll give you one guess why that is. If you guessed “because your heels get stuck in the carpet and you can take an embarrassing spill,” you guessed right! The good thing about doing a lap dance for a guy who’s turned on is you can pretend the “fall” was part of your routine and start gyrating on the floor and the up and down pelvic motion, can literally hypnotize him into forgetting he ever saw you fall. Who knew getting certified in hypnosis would actually come in handy during a lap dance.

Just when I was thinking, “these heels are going to be my downfall and I am the most un-sexy creature on this earth and am making a giant fool out of myself not only in front of him, but in front of his cat” (which was worse because I swear the cat was staring at me in disgust)song number four came on.. Carrie Underwood’s Cowboy Casanova…  Thank God!!!

Costume change! I left him tied to the bench and ran into his closet, took off all of the black including those pesky heels, and put on white boy shorts, a blue checkered pattern button down, which I didn’t button, I just tied, and a cowboy hat. NO SHOES!  Now I could do some lap dancing!

Obstacle 7: Every time I tried to ‘dance on his lap’ he winced in pain from his bad groin. Clearly this wasn’t going to lead to sex or even a good story for his best buddy…

But it did lead to a good story for you because.. that was what I thought was THE worst lap dance in the history of lap dances… that is until he asked me “the question”

Once I realized that the poor guy was in pain, I untied him, turned off the music and let him lie in bed and watch Two and a Half Men. He didn’t talk for a half hour… he didn’t even laugh during Two and a Half Men, so I knew was thinking about something. I figured he was thinking about how badly he felt, me having gone through all of this trouble to stuff props, two costume changes, and a personalized CD into a small enough bag to not raise suspicion, and then him being in too much pain to really enjoy my efforts. But that’s not what he was thinking at all… I know because finally he came out and asked me the burning question on his mind.. “Be honest with me… were you ever a stripper?” And he had a bit of concern in his voice, as if I were going to give him crabs or something.

Which means one of two things… either I did a MUCH better job than I thought I was doing OR he’s never seen a real stripper and has no idea what a good lap dance is. I assured him I was NEVER a stripper, which put his mind at ease, but am considering it as a secondary income stream… as long as I do it in an old age home, where the men are too deaf to hear my knees crack!

©2011

 

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I Love When My Friends Internet Date!

Posted on April 4, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Why? Because they have the greatest/horrendous experiences that I will never have because I refuse to do it. I tried… once… once…. for 3 days, and then vowed NEVER to do it again. Normally, I would blog about what one of my friends are doing but since I have 3 friends and Sister all internet dating simultaneously, I won’t call anyone out, I’ll just give you the highlights. I will refer to all of my friends and Sister as “Girl”…

1. A pleasant exchange of about 4 emails went back and forth between Girl and Match Man. He had just moved to the city where she lived. Suddenly he dropped off of the face of the earth and Girl was ready to throw the towel in, frustrated by the annoying men online who consistently flake. When today, he resurfaced, with a longwinded excuse as to why she hadn’t heard from him (at least he acknowledged he hadn’t been in touch) and then went on about how it is living in a new city with no friends and no family although he considered his god, family. (Pause…huh?) Did he just go there? I mean there’s nothing wrong with having a strong belief in God, but it was a bit strange the way he just ‘stuck it in there’ all casually. But the great thing about girls, is that we analyze things to death, and this was no exception. Girl, brought her laptop into the office of fellow girlfriend and they broke it down. They re-read his bio… no mention of a deep family-like love for God, they looked over his pictures, no pictures with Jesus, Moses, or Buddha, in fact, all of his pictures which weren’t of him alone were of him and his dog… and then it hit them. He’s dyslexic, he considers his DOG family, as does Girl, so she will continue her communication with him…

2. Another Girl found herself on a date with a Guy she’d met online, a handsome, tall, smart, type of guy that you don’t imagine would be on Match, and then you remember that you’re a beautiful, smart, sexy Girl, and you’re on Match, so why not give it a try…. well, someone should post a list of things guys should NOT say on first dates, with beautiful, smart, sexy women, in fact, even if guys have done this and enjoyed it, they shouldn’t ever say it to a woman… ever. I’m not going to post a list for men, but I am going to post what this man told Girl. He thought she would enjoy hearing a story about how he’d been at a hotel/spa where men and women can walk around the pool/spa naked. Okay… we’re not there yet, for those of you who are thinking, that sounds like a great place to go, or, I’m not into it, but good for him for being so confident, he must have a large poo-ge (which is what Girl told me she was thinking, minus the large poo-ge comment which I added… of course). But he didn’t stop there.. no, he went on to tell her over dinner (gross) that there was a yoga convention going on at the hotel, and two yoga instructors joined him in the naked mud bath and they all slathered each other’s naked bodies in mud, while the two yoga instructors did naked mud covered yoga poses. Dinner date conversation? I think not!

3. One Girl dared me to look at the guys on Match in her city after a male friend of hers, who just happens to be a dating coach, checked out her options and told her in no uncertain terms, “You are fucked.” Now she’s considering OmDating, to meet spiritual guys. Here’s what the spiritual guys have to say 21 years old (Capricorn) / Conscious Male “The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances”  RCG says: I hope one of those chemicals is Crack, because that’s what I’d have to be on to date you!  Here’s another spiritual guy, 35 years old (Aquarius) / Conscious Male Neo seeks Trinity for Conscious Co-Creation RCG says: Clearly this guy is on the Comic Con dating circuit too, which means he has B.O. so stay clear! Whitestar a 44 years old (Pisces) / Conscious Male is looking for love he “likes conscious minded people regardless of race, creed, orientation or culture … we are the people we have been waiting for.” RCG says: Whitestar looks like he’s doing some kind of magic trick in his picture + he has a mullet + he does not look American Indian, so why is he calling himself Whitestar? Me thinks, this Girl, is going to have to find her man somewhere other than online OR she can seek out normal people in other states, have a long distance relationship and then move out to live with him someplace where the guys aren’t so weird!

That’s all for now. I’m sure there will be more stories from the land of Internet Dating….

©2011

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Trust The Gorton’s Fisherman

Posted on April 2, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

I hope Gorton’s doesn’t have a Google search like Comcast does, because if they read this blog, it’s going to go in a very different direction than they’re expecting. So, Gorton’s representatives, if you’re reading this now, it has nothing to do with fish sticks.

Okay gals, this may be about to get weird, but just go with me. So I’m in bed cuddling after great sex with FWB, yes I’m still calling him that because Climber Gal is the only one who has thrown a new name in the hat…. and speaking of hats, I was looking down at his poo-ge (pronounced poo- j-ay.. if it were French it would be spelled poujer. Well we get vajooge, the guy’s need a sexy name and penis just isn’t it… yes, yes, I’ll add poo-ge to the glossary) and he has a very nice poo-ge. What’s especially nice about his poo-ge, is that whenever I’m near him, it’s always at some stage of attention, even after we’ve just finished.

Back to the hat… as I was looking at his poo-ge from the side, I noticed that it looked like a man in a rain cap, in fact, I went a step further and said (out loud), “Your poo-ge looks like the Gorton’s Fisherman.”

Now, most guys would get freaked out by this, possibly even offended. I mean, who wants their manhood compared to a old guy in a beard and a yellow raincoat? But not my guy. My guy just looked down at his perfect specimen and replied, “Yeah, he does.”

My first thought was, “he’s so cool” my second thought was, “did he just say ‘he’?” I never refer to my vajooge as a ‘she’ my vajooge is an ‘it.’ But guys seem to refer to their man part as ‘he’ or ‘him’. Probably because it resembles a man in a rain hat.

That was all the conversation we had about the Gorton’s Fisherman until my morning text. FWB texts me every day to say good morning, and it’s never just “good morning,” it’s always something creative. So I woke up to read, “The Gorton’s fisherman was up earlier and rallied up all the seamen.” To which I replied, “Unfortunately, my hands were not on deck.” The next morning I awoke to “Ahoy there from the Gorton’s fisherman.” To which I replied, “I’d like to be sailing your boat right now.” You gotta love a guy with a sense of humor about his poo-ge.

If we ever go to Disneyland, we’re going to have do something in the Pirates of the Caribbean worth blogging about.

Anyway, I know that guys do like to name their poo-ge. And sometimes we gals like to rename it for them. I have a friend from high-school whose poo-ge name became his nickname. I guess when you have a poo-ge called “The Hammer” you want the world to know. And it’s also a good “heads-up” to women with small jawbones and tight vajooges… and before you judge me for saying that, those were his words, not mine.

I had a friend in highschool who named her boobs Ernie and Bert. I gotta say, I don’t get it. What’s sexy about comparing your breasts to a couple of closeted muppets? I don’t name my boobs, I have never had a man name them for me, I have had them referred to by other women as ‘the Girls’ as in, “dang, RCG, The Girls are out and ready for action tonight.” Which is usually when I have PMS and they are looking gynormous. The only reference FWB has made about them has been the quote from Teri Hatcher on Seinfeld (a show he loves)… “They’re real and they’re spectacular.”  I think I’ll end on that…

©2011

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Breaking Up Is Hard To Do… So Will You Do It?

Posted on March 31, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Okay.

“Really?!?!?” shrieked Sister.

Why not? I haven’t broken up with one of her boyfriends in a long time. Logistically though, there were problems. For one, we are not in the same house like we were in high school when I could be on the basement rotary phone and she could be on the kitchen phone, with cords so long we could meet in the middle, sitting on the basement steps so she could give me my cues.

“Just give me his number, I’ll just call him and get it over with.” Then I realized that wouldn’t work because now cell phone numbers show up and he would see it wasn’t her number. Sister suggested I hit *67 and block my number. I wasn’t convinced it would work on my cell. I decided to throw out some break up ideas instead:

1. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s nothing wrong with me, but when we’re together… there’s nothing right.

2. Remember when we said we didn’t want to see other people? Well now I want to see anyone but you.

3. Hi R___, I didn’t want to be rude, and not return your obsessive, needy, clingy calls and texts, so I’m calling to let you know that I don’t want to date you anymore.

Sister wanted me to be serious (I was being serious, after all, each one was how she truly felt, I was being serious and honest). I had an idea, she could “party-line” us. Apparently, “party-line” is no longer a “cool term,” how was  I supposed to know, I haven’t had to use it to break up with one of her boyfriends in a really long time. And now that I think about it, they are always so dumbstruck by the fact that they’re being broken up with, they never even notice the difference in the sound of our voices (not that I don’t try to imitate her perfectly).

The internet has made it much easier. I just write to them. I wrote Sister’s very first Match.com profile. And while she is beautiful enough to post a picture and not write a word to get 1000 winks, I wrote like a poet. She had the most fabulous profile! Guys were commenting up and down, right and left about how funny she is and smart.

And the reason I know this? I was doing all of her correspondence as well. After all, the witty banter had to stay in the same ‘voice.’ Now you would think that Sister would actually read the correspondence before a phone conversation or a meeting for drinks.. nope. She’d just find herself, a deer in headlights, trying to figure out why she was discussing soccer which she hadn’t played since junior high, or trying to remember the details of some obscure concert that I’d forgotten she was too drunk to remember, because I was the designated driver and remembered the evening perfectly.

And now here we are… and R___ needs to get the boot, and Sister is just letting the hours turn into days, which is why Im writing this blog Sister… TO CALL YOU OUT!!! It’s time to break up with R___ just rip that bandaid off and do it!

Sister falls so quickly.. she gave R___ her parking pass, it had only been a week. And no, parking pass is not a metaphor, she did not give up the cookie just the parking pass. But now she has to get it back. The last guy had her parking pass, alarm code, and house key within a month… he turned out to be a freak, though in her defense, none of us saw that coming.

No more giving out out the parking pass Sister. Pick up the phone and say “R____ it’s been real, and it’s been nice, but it hasn’t been real nice…”

 

Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Dear Comcast Mark… Vagina, Vagina, Vagina!

Posted on March 29, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

What do you think, ladies? Did I scare him off? How about the other guys who’ve been reading the blog lately? Hold on, just to be sure… TAMPONS, MAXI PADS… With Wings! Urinary Tract Infections, YEAST INFECTIONS which require Monistat 7!!! (Not even Monistat 1 or 3 but 7)….

That ought to do it, don’t you think? With the subject matter and the description of this blog I’ve made it pretty clear that this blog is for chicks only. Now, I know there are a handful of guys who are evolved enough to go to the store for their women and purchase tampons, but for the rest of you, in the words of the snobby Rodeo Drive Sales Lady from Pretty Woman, “There is nothing for you here. Please leave.”

Now before you go off on me, it’s not because I don’t like guys… I’m wild and crazy about guys. But guys are problem solvers. They see a woman in distress and they want to help, to fix the problem, to be the knight in shining armor… which reminds me of a funny story so let me tangentalize for a moment–

When FWB and I first started hanging out, we discovered we were into very different kinds of music. HE likes The Grateful Dead, some band called Fish possibly Phish? Someone called Mo or Moe… ME on the other hand, likes 80s hairbands and country music. Sooooo…..

After being subjected to jazzy influenced jam bands for a somewhat lengthy car ride, FWB decided to be accommodating and allow me to plug my iPhone in and play him my country music. I soon discovered that iPhones don’t work like iPods. With my iPod, I play an album and the whole album plays. On my iPhone, I put on a song from an album and the next song goes in alphabetical order (at this point, if there are some straggler guys still reading who have the urge to comment on how to program my iPhone to not shuffle– resist the urge and go follow some tech geeks blog. He’ll appreciate it) Well, the song went from Jason Aldean  to Alison Armstrong. Now for all of you ladies who know who Alison is, you can imagine my frenzied hysteria that went on for the next 60 seconds which felt like an hour…

You see Alison Armstong is a woman who teaches women to Celebrate Men, by understanding how to communicate with them. She gives us TOP SECRET information and I made a vow NEVER to share it with a man, so while she’s talking about frog farming or something odd that caught FWB’s ear, to the point that he said “What IS this?” as I was trying to put in my iPhone passcode… ever notice when you’re in a rush to put in your passcode you always hit the wrong numbers? So Im yelling, “NOTHING. THIS IS NOTHING.” To which he obviously asked me why I was suddenly yelling… uh because I can’t tell you that you’re not allowed to hear this because it will only make you want to listen more so I’m yelling so you can’t hear what she’s saying. Of course at this point I can’t get my iPhone to open and I try his radio knobs to turn off the volume or the radio or ANYTHING to make it stop… but to no avail so I’m still yelling gibberish until I finally yank the iPhone out off of the plug he’s got it attached to which creates a very loud popping noise in the speakers, which both scared us and almost deafened us. At which point we came to a stop at a red light and he said, “I could have helped you with that.” To which I responded, “I know, you always help me. Thank you.” Which won me a big smile… Alison would have been proud. NOW back to the matter at hand…

Which is… Mark and his problem solving. If you didn’t see it yesterday, I blogged about balancing my hormones with a product called “Buried Treasure”, accidentally putting Vagisil on hamstring rash, and suffering from PMS. Yet, when a “guy” read the entry he saw a problem that need fixing, and please don’t get me wrong, Mark, I appreciate your desire to be a problem solver and to help me, AND, you totally missed the point of the blog. You see you thought I needed my problem solved with Comcast, since I went off on a PMS rage on sweet, harmless, Chad, so you offered up this comment: “Sorry to learn about your Comcast problems. I work for the company and with your permission, I will be happy to reach out to my contacts to make sure that this is resolved. Contact me if you’re interested in my help.”

You are doing a very good job of being a very good and helpful man, Mark, AND, every girl reading yesterday’s entry knows, because they are girls, so it’s not your fault, Mark, you were just doing what comes naturally to guys… they all knew that all I wanted to do was rant.. that’s it. I don’t want my Comcast problem solved, unless, Mark, you can get me a check for $9,997 which is what my consulting rate is for a VIP day, which is the exact length of my time which was wasted waiting for you Company to solve my problem correctly the first time. You see, Mark, If I promise someone a VIP day, and they pay $9,997 for it, and I don’t show up… they get their money back and I get my reputation tarnished.. so I don’t blow off my clients. I treat them like VIPS, hence the name. So until Comcast plans to treat ME like a VIP, I have no interest in continuing with their service, because luckily I do have other choices.

So what have we learned today?

1. Girls like to rant about stuff that’s on their minds and they don’t necessarily want guys to fix it, they just want them to listen, maybe tickle their backs, and then say, “honey, good for you giving that Comcast guy a piece of your mind.”

2. While Romantic Comedy Girl LOVES men, this blog really isn’t the place for them. Please don’t be offended. After all, I’m the first to admit, that women on the sidelines broadcasting sports, is the most annoying thing on the planet.. they don’t belong there, and YOU don’t belong here.

I think it’s fair to say, that the only exception to this “no boys allowed” policy is any guy who doesn’t need to be “dragged” to see a romantic comedy by a girl, is welcome to read, because that’s who this is for… rom com and chick lit peeps.

DJ Superpilot, please cue Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, I Will Survive, All the Single Ladies and every other Chick anthem you can think of..

Peace out!

©2011

Posted in Chick lit, romantic comedy, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Buried Treasure… Guess What This Post Is About

Posted on March 28, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

No… it doesn’t involve pirates or a Johnny Depp fantasy.. BUT if you guessed Vajooge, that’s what I said! Nutritionist informed me that I had low estrogen due to my Type-A burnt out adrenals, so I had to balance my hormones. For a minute I thought I had just found the answer to free birth control, but she snipped that dream in the bud. So off I went to Whole Foods to get a liquid, since I can’t swallow pills (which is ironic, and if you don’t know why, you’re too pure to be reading my blog, or perhaps you should continue so I can open a whole new world to you) tangentalizing….

Anyway, Whole Foods Dude, who now knows me by name because I’m constantly in there looking for a B6 liquid or a multiviatmin powder that doesn’t taste like candied poison, and now.. a hormone supplement. At first Whole Foods Dude was confused because clearly I’m too young to be menopausal, and my moods weren’t swinging every 30 seconds like I was possessed, but I told him that I did indeed need a hormone balancer. He gave me a big bottle with a beautiful island on it, and pretty flowers which is apparently supposed to distract you from the rancid taste of the gray goop.  I avoided it for about a week because it said not to take it if you’re not in menopause, which I’m not. Finally I broke down and asked Nutritionist if I bought the right stuff. She asked me to email her the name so she could check it out.

Buried Treasure. Really? Who names a product that is technically related to the Vajooge region, buried treasure? I have to admit, after taking it for three days, I’m feeling far more chipper, and this is my PMS week! I did have one day of good old “go off on men” PMS though. I’ve been having crappy AKA intermittent  internet/phone service. So I called up Comcast and a sweet guy named Chad answered and I asked for his supervisor. Chad asked if there was anything he could do to help me. I told him as sweetly as I could, “Probably not, and you sound like a really nice guy who’s having a good day and I’d hate to take out my anger on you, so can I please speak to a supervisor?” To which Chad responded, “Well, actually I have a lot of authority to help customers, so let’s just see if I can help.

Poor Chad! He never saw it coming. I switched on him faster than the Hulk when he’s mad. I let him have it! (Imagine this rant as a crescendo of anger reaching a spitting climax at the end)   “My internet and phone service is out again, Chad! It has been out everyday for the past two weeks between 12-2 and you sent your service guy here today, CHAD, at 11am and nothing was wrong at 11am because it happens intermittently and he said there is nothing he can do when nothing is wrong, BUT he believes me, (THANKS FOR BELIEVING ME COMCAST GUY ’cause lord knows I’ve got nothing to do all day but lie about crappy cable service and wait for you to arrive between your 8-11am window) but it may be a neighbor coming home for lunch and tapping into my system and screwing it up, but there is no way of knowing which neighbor it is because it can be anyone within a four mile radius…  4 MILES  CHAD??? I’m running a business here so when my phone and internet are not working I’m missing out on business! I can’t miss out on business CH-AD! Now do you have the authority to send someone to my house at this very moment and hope he gets here in time so that my service is still out and he can figure out the problem?”

To which Chad responded, “Well you didn’t get a home business service from us, you just got a regular service, if you want the home business service–”

“Let me stop you RIGHT THERE, Chad! (AT this point I’m seething like a monster out of Ghostbusters, drool mixed with snot running down my chin) I don’t care what kind of service I ordered, I expect my service to work! I can’t have crappy service, Chad!!!”

Chad said he would send someone over right away. It’s been 4 days. I’ve called AT&T. Why must I choose between the greater of two evils?

Wow! Major tangentalizing. I was talking about vajooge balancing. Speaking of confusing names. When I went to the pool with FWB (y’all have not given me a new name for him (see previous blog) so I will continue to call him that until you do) I got a little rash on my hamstring from sitting on a wet chlorinated towel. I searched around in the medicine cabinet for a rash cream and found a Target anti-itch cream. I used it for two days and it wasn’t helping, so I read the label to see if maybe it was expired. What did I find?

The anti-itch cream was the Target Brand of Vagisil! Hello? Maybe that should have been written a little larger on the box! I mean I know no one likes to be the girl on line with the box of Target brand Vagisil, especially because with Romantic Comedy Girl’s Law, you will no doubt have a hot guy in front of you and a hot guy behind you, and just as you’re about to get checked out, the bubbly woman at the Target check out counter, decides to take a break, and a teenage by who looks like Justin Beiber takes his place and there you are with your box of LARGE print Vagisil… so maybe the small print is not so bad for those girls, but I was putting Vajooge cream on my hamstring for two days! One application of actual hydrocortisone and the rash went away. A word to companies.. think through your names. That’s all I ask.

©2011

 

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Friend With Benefits Meets Psychic!!!

Posted on March 26, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

A line has been officially crossed! FWB met Psychic tonight!!! It all happened so fast. The plan was he was going to cook me a steak dinner and I was going to get a little somethin’ somethin’ but then Psychic called and she was just down the street and I had to see her.. I was going through Superfriends withdrawal. Besides she kept teasing me that I was probably running around with young guys, which made me want to show her that, no, actually, it was just one guy and while he is younger than me, he doesn’t fall into the “young guy” age range to which she was referring. But why would I want her to meet a “Friend With Benefits?”

It happened last night. We went to see a Beatles cover band with his mom. She wanted us to be her “wingmen” and I am a fantastic wingman, so I said, what the heck.  The first hour and a half was a little creepy. Did I mention the band was at their country club? I was surrounded by a room full of “Thurston Howell III and Lovies.” FWB and I were the youngest people in there by 25 years.. at least! The bouffants on these women were outdated– I mean outrageous. I have no idea where they find a stylist who still knows how to create those large masterpieces. And the jewelry! I seriously started having Bonnie and Clyde fantasies, 1. because these people were ripe for the robbing 2. because they were too old to fight back 3. Because I think FWB and I would be sexy as hell if we were criminals and people across America would be helping us make our escape to Canada (I’m not going to Mexico and I have 2 Superfriends in Canada… one of them is a brilliant artist who can help us change our identities by covering us in beautifully colored feathers).. anyway, enough about my fantasy as a criminal.

Guess what wasn’t in MY benefits package? Dancing! Now all my girls know I love to dance, and I’m dangerous on the dance floor… so it was probably good that he wasn’t going to dance with me. He claimed it was because he wasn’t a good dancer, but ladies we all know that if a guy is good in bed, he can dance. But I wasn’t going to argue. There was no need to… it’s not like I was ever going to be at family event like a weeding or anything which required dancing. So when he asked me to dance, I was a little confused. I went with it… and true to the rule.. he could dance!

At around ten pm the Howell crowd had stuffed their bags with the free hor deurves  and left and a new crowd of silver foxes had come in from a “wine dinner.” This was quite a crowd! All the women were over 60 yet, their bodies were fantastic, they all wore 4″ Jimmy Choos, they were hot! And they were all dancing and singing and pretty much reliving their youth. So, the band decided it was safe to go into the hallucinogenic drug phase. Everyone was acting like they were shrooming and FWB was sitting on chair watching me dance with his mom. When I spotted him sitting in the chair, and “Come Together” filled the air, my impulse kicked in and I did a dance for him that came very close to being  lap dance for all of 20 seconds when I realized what I was doing ( and it was NOT shrooming) and that I’d better get a grip because his mom was there! I mean she is cool but no one wants to watch their son get a lap dance, especially in front of a bunch of hoity toity country club folk.

Luckily the band changed to a slow dance and FWB got up and pulled me close. He held me so tightly and my head fit so perfectly between his neck and shoulder. This is that scene in the romantic comedy when the young girl starts realizing she’s falling for the young guy surrounded by a bunch of old people dancing to Beatles songs. And in typical romantic comedy style, just when I felt like Molly Ringwald in 16 Candles, in the arms of Jake, an old slick guy who looked like Kojak, decided to be a showoff with his dance moves and winded up taking a face dive into the wooden dance floor. There was forehead splitting and blood. Kind of a moment killer especially since most of his friends were so drunk that they were laughing instead of helping the guy out. I can jest about it now because after one of the leggy 60-year-olds in a slinky blue dress dabbed some water on him and stopped the blood, he was back on the dance floor getting his grove on. My moment was ruined… but it was still a moment. Which means….

Friends With Benefits is going to need a new name. I don’t know what to call him because I’m too freaked out about the whole thing. So I’m leaving it up to you, my loyal readers, give me a name… AND DON’T EVEN SUGGEST… boyfriend. We are NOT there yet! besides, it’s not very creative.

I await your comments…

©2011

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Does The Nutritionist Have an Amino for This?

Posted on March 24, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

DJ Super Pilot thinks she’s funny.. yeah.. a real riot. She read my post from two days ago and sent me the video link to The Spinner’s; Could It Be I’m Falling In Love? Maybe she’ll post the link in the comment section because the video is kind of like what’s going on in your mind as your falling. It’s 5 guys (I think I couldn’t keep count) all wearing the same blue polyester suit, spinning around (hence the name I guess) under mirrors angled in weird directions so they look like a kaleidoscope. I mean I don’t even know if the Choreographer Cowgirl could figure out that routine and Sommelier would definitely get woozy watching with a glass of red in each hand! And that’s how I feel… like I’m spinning around in a kaleidoscope.. only without the polyester, even typing the word makes me shiver.. how do people wear that material?

Last night he took me to the beach at sunset. He said he’d never been to the beach at sunset. Romance- NOT IN THE BENEFITS PACKAGE… but oh, so nice. DJ Super Pilot’s right. I’m getting sucked in. He makes magical things happen. I told him I’ve been on the West Coast for so long I can’t remember how the sun set here. I still remember my awe when I saw my first West Coast sunset, because the sun literally disappears into the water. I didn’t want to “kill” his first sunset with a girl, by comparing a lame East Coast sunset where you can’t even see the sun because it’s on the other coast, to the brilliance of a West Coast sunset. And as the wind picked up, and he shielded me with his body, and the waves grew rougher and the sky got darker.. something beautiful appeared. The entire sky turned into a rainbow… I asked him if he could see the colors too because I had been humming the Spinners under my breath (I couldn’t get that dang song out of my head ALL DAY!) and I started thinking maybe I was in a parallel universe, or he had slipped me a roofy… although that seemed illogical because 1. we didn’t have anything to drink and 2. Not only did he know I was a sure thing, but I’m pretty sure he now realizes I’m quite extraordinary when I’m awake and coherent, so the roofy would have just made me heavy to drag back to the car and a lump in the sack, so anyway I tangentalize..

Back to the L word.. I can’t even write it unless it’s in a song or a story, so let me tell you a story…

We were driving his kids home on Sunday, when he tells them that he had such a great day with them and he loves them so much. So the six year old, who from this point on will be known as “Six” (which obviously means that the four year old will now be known as “Four”) says to him, “Daddy, do you love ME so much?” and he tells her “Yes Six, I love you so much” to which she replies, “Do you love Four?” He answers, “I love Four very much too.” Then she her plan begins…

Six: Who else do you love?

FWB: I love grandma and grandpa– (in a screenplay those two dashes let the next actor speaking in the script know it’s their job to cut the person off at that moment which is exactly what Six did)

Six: Who else do you love IN THIS CAR?

FWB thought quickly: I love princess Ariel. (Good save FWB!)

Six, taking the ball back in her court: Who do you love in the FRONT of the car?

FWB: I love the band playing on the radio. (Oooo he’s good… but she’s better!)

Six: Who do you love in this (her arms were circling my area) area where my arms are circling?

FWB: I don’t know because you’re in the back seat and I’m driving so my eyes are on the road and I can’t see your arms.

Six: She has big earrings… (no answer from dad, and at this point I had lost it, I am silently crying with laughter at his discomfort into my right shoulder) she is very pretty… (still no response from dad, and I can barely breath I’m laughing so hard) she has big boobs– (now I had to interject)

RCG turning around and looking at her head on: You think I have big boobs–

Six: SHE’S TALKING RIGHT NOW!!!!

At which point FWB and I both simultaneously burst out laughing and he was forced into the uncomfortable situation of explaining that he loved me like a very good friend, which Six didn’t understand, so when she asked if I was his best friend and he replied “no” and reminded her who his best (guy) friend was, she got distracted from her love attack and started reminiscing about playing with best guy friend’s kids. Saved by the short attention span!

Bottom line is, tonight is the first night I haven’t seen him in over a week and I’m craving him. I tried taking the DPA that Nutritionist gave me, but apparently that only works on sweet cravings like cupcakes and cookies, not thoughts of juicy lips and soft clavicle skin.

She’s got to have something for me, after all a craving is a craving. A longing is a longing.. it’s emotional so there has to be an amino acid, or a supplement or a food that can cure this… oh yes, there is- chocolate! Unfortunately I can’t have that!!!  (See What Chocolate Does to Me Dec 28, 2010). Should I eat dried apricots? They’re sweet… no because I’ll eat too many and Nutritionist told me I metabolize the sugar the same way… maybe prunes, they’re sweet and I won’t eat too many because I know that can have some serious repercussions.

IS THIS WHAT IT HAS COME TO????? I have to suppress these scary feelings by eating prunes? I’m pretty frickin’ sure that Bridget Jones would not sink so low as to drown her pain in prunes!

©2011

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Plucking, and Shaving, and Flossing… Oh My!

Posted on March 23, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

It isn’t easy being a girl. There is so much to do and when you concentrate on 3 things 4 other things suffer. I’m exhausted now, and I just don’t have any energy left to floss, I had to tend to other things like shaving my legs and taking my supplements in between meals.. Uh that just reminded me I forgot to take my “before bed” supplements, please hold…

Okay I’m back. Anyway, I have a business to run which takes up an average of 8 hours a day. On top of that I have to eat, which if you ask me is a major pain in the ass and I don’t know why some genius woman out there hasn’t created a concoction that you can drink on the go and gives you ALL the nutritional value you need. Eating is a major waste of time for me.. except for sushi. And of course the obligatory sleep. Now, on that subject is health. So I’m supposed to meditate for 15 minutes in the morning (minimum) and 15 minutes at night. I’d like to fit yoga in daily, but that doesn’t seem to work out.. and speaking of working out, I do have a gym membership so cardio and weights, perhaps the occasional spin class, should be fit in at a minimum of 5 days/week. And I put two 30 minute walks with my dog down under health because it is healthy for me to get out of my house into the sunshine since I could sit on my bed working on my laptop for 14 hours straight. Within health, I must also remember to drink hot water with lemon first thing in the morning (and boiling water takes time, and although a watched pot does boil, it also seems to take longer when you’re watching it), then do a shot of pure cranberry juice (good thing that’s done before brushing my teeth)… oh yes, and brushing my teeth and flossing, which are a necessity because I could get gum disease if I don’t, and I’m supposed to use that dental tool thingy with the rubber tip, but does it seem like I have time? I mean I’m just getting started here. I have to eat 3 meals a day and two snacks. In between each meal I have adrenal support supplements, sugar craving supplements and amino acids to take. I have to set a timer for those or I swear I’d forget. And how about all of the water I’m supposed to consume in a day? Drinking water takes time AND makes you pee.. a lot! So of course there’s going to the bathroom, but that’s something you can’t skip cause when you gotta go you gotta go, but still, time must be alloted.

Now, let’s address all the maintenance that needs paying attention to; waxing, shaving, plucking, face washing, moisturizing, manicures, pedicures, hair color, hair cutting, blow drying, (I think showering and bathing are a given, but they still need time alloted for them), make up application, make up removal, sun block application, mani/pedi home upkeep.

And finally there are my obsessive compulsions. I must check my email every 10 minutes, I must snuggle with my dog for the first hour we’re awake, I must call Sister twice a day, I must empty the dishwasher when I know it’s clean and fold any laundry that is in the dryer.  I must check Facebook especially the Superfriend’s page and then I must watch any music videos DJ Super Pilot has posted, which tends to lead to other Superfriends posting music videos which I must watch and then of course I have to find a clever music video to post which always takes time.

And I KNOW I’m forgetting stuff. Like feeding my dog 3 times/day. So really… how am I supposed to get all of this stuff done, maintain my job, my health, my insanity, and still have a life which includes 5-6 days a week with Friend With Benefits, and watching all the tv shows I record on my DVR? I think this blog entry in itself has just counteracted all of my adrenal repair supplements from the past week. I mean seriously, how is a Type-A girl supposed to do it all? And I don’t even have kids!

I really need to go balance in Tree Pose for 15 minutes so I can slow my racing heart and mind and get a good night sleep to start this mania again tomorrow!

©2011

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