My Christmas Makeover

OK, it’s official.  I’m FINALLY in the holiday spirit.  Woo-hoo.  Last night I went to sleep as Auntie Scroogie and woke up as Lady Claus.   I’m diggin’ my nighttime makeover.

Not sure what took me so long…I mean just because Safeway started playing Christmas carols two months ago does NOT mean I should be spreading holiday cheer to all.   That’s not my job…that’s the Salvation Army bell ringer’s job, right?

So why my sudden transformation?

• Maybe it’s my new condo…
• Maybe it’s the thought of 2012…and all the future blessings yet to be discovered…
• Maybe it’s because I get to see my crazy relatives in just one more day…
• Maybe it’s because I only have one more gift to buy…hence, one more annoying line to stand in…
• Maybe it’s because I went to church last Sunday…
• Maybe it’s the guy who’s 5 years younger who asked me out…
• Maybe it’s my new neighbor who dropped off homemade cookies…
• Maybe it’s knowing my broken heart is on the mend…
• Maybe it’s the impromptu snowstorm that hit Denver this afternoon…
• Maybe it’s the xanax…or the gi-normous bottle of Crown Royal I scored at my friend’s gift exchange party…

Whatever it is…I’m welcoming it with open arms.

On Friday, I head to Texas to visit family, loaded down with my big suitcase and jam-packed schedule.   I only have about 1.2 million people to catch up with over 120 hours.  Five days of non-stop hugs, conversations, adult libations, laughs, and hopefully…no tears.   Yes, it will be a whirlwind…but I’d rather be stuck in that storm than sitting home alone staring at my dog and cat.  It’s kinda nice being pulled in a multitude of directions.  I’ll take that as a compliment.

My newfound holiday joy was INDEED tested earlier today.  A few days ago, I mailed a cute, dainty necklace to my BFF…Brendy…courtesy of the U.S Postal service.   I wrapped it in tissue paper, tucked it discreetly inside a card…and sent it on its merry way to Kansas City.   This afternoon, when Brendy received the card, she noticed a small hole in the envelope…and low and behold…gasp…someone had STOLEN the necklace.  Argh!

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Dear Disgruntled Postal Employee…

I hope you or someone you know needed that necklace more than my friend.   Someone like a homeless person…a person with a terminal illness…a person who just lost his job.  If not though…that stolen necklace will bring you nothing but bad karma.  And I hope your neck turns green…because…sorry to inform you…it’s not REAL gold.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa

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Sorry…thief…despite your unruly ways, you did NOT ruin my holiday cheer.  I’m better than that.  Yes, material items matter to an extent.  But the bigger joy of the holiday season is simply spending time with loved ones, giving thanks for the ups AND downs of the past year, and accepting that life is unscripted.   It’s also about embracing the new year…and all the potential experiences that come in that shiny package.  For me, that could be…a new television show to produce or write, a new love interest, a new travel adventure…and tons of time to remodel my home.  2012 I’m ready!

Speaking of home…did I mention it’s snowing outside?  And that my new neighborhood rocks?  Earlier tonight, while happily walking back to my pad after visiting a local bar, I realized it finally felt like the holidays.  Under the spell of falling snowflakes, my little neighborhood looks like a scene from a snow globe.

I almost hear Christmas carols.

Birthday Smirk-Day

Yep, it’s my birthday this week – or as most women in their 30s call this glorious day…”Holy heck…one year closer to 40.”

Not that I’m afraid of 40.  I mean 40 is like the new 21….or so say all those celebrities, fashion designers, and Real Hoochey-mama Housewives.  Right?  Except the fact you have wrinkles, a mortgage payment, a ticking clock (even the GYNO agrees), a year’s supply glucosamine in your medicine cabinet, and every time you look at a photo of yourself you think…”I look like my mother!”  Chances are — if you haven’t splurged on Botox, you’ve at least spent HOURS looking at “before and after” photos online until your eyes glaze over.  And suddenly exercise is not something you do JUST for the endorphins… it’s something you do to “keep up with all those trashy 20 year-olds who are stealing your men!”

I admit I’m not in my mid-flirty30s anymore….I’m in my late-flirty30s…I turn 38…GULP… tomorrow.  But I guess the important thing is – I don’t feel late 30s.  (And I don’t think I look it.)  I feel….maybe ….Hmmm….27.

Still – despite my youthful feeling…You know you’re a few years away from 40 when:

1. You’re overdosing on sunscreen, even during a tsunami.
2. You’re obsessed with eating healthy and only buy foods that are dark green or bright purple (Although this does not apply to late-night Taco Bell or gas station doughnuts).
3. You’ve accepted the fact you can’t wear high heels every day and have been caught sneaking into the Crocs store at Cherry Creek mall.
4. You’ve already investigated fertility acupuncture even though you have:  A. No husband   B.  No boyfriend  C.  No upcoming dates
5. You’ve fibbed about your age at least once…or at least…you’ve been “very vague” and kept some guy guessing who was probably younger than your younger brother!

But there is comfort in all of this.  My grandmother told me years ago…”You know Lisa, your mind doesn’t age…only your body does.”  I wasn’t sure what she met by this until five years ago.    What she means is that our emotions don’t disappear along with the progression of the calendar.  We still experience the “ah-hah” moment of newfound love, the angst of a job change, the sadness when we are betrayed, and the “jumping up and down” joy when we reach a goal. (Ask my co-workers – I jumped up and down between cubicles when I found out the seller accepted my offer on my new condo.)

It’s AS IF we are still 17 or 27…somewhere in our psyche.  And I find this extremely comforting as I age gracefully.

Since my birthday always falls around Thanksgiving…I’d like to reflect on my blessings – or in reality — what I survived this last year… because honestly…it was a doozey.

1. Finding “one of the loves” of my life…throwing my heart into it…then realizing it was time to let go…(wretched heartache)
2. Politely demanding a raise, not receiving the raise initially, playing tough (so very awkward for Lisa), then coming to an agreement in my favor (Who knew Lisa had balls?!)
3. Managing three family weddings – and thankfully no funerals (My own personal episode of “Relatives Gone Wild”)
4. Surviving a Denver winter with only a mini-cooper to my name (those miniature snow tires rock!)
5. Tackling the beautiful Colorado ski slopes for 13 sporadic ski days – without injuring myself, innocent children, old people, or punk snowboarders
6. Traveling to Europe – and encountering delayed flights, bus schedules I never undersood, a bitchy, jealous ex-boyfriend’s mother (so so painful), yet thankfully — stunning scenery, amazing food, and loving company
7. Camping with four other girls outside Aspen for a long weekend and somehow not killing each other…because after all…hot coals, bears, and two gallons of red wine don’t mix.
8. Buying a condo…if I ever have to hunt down that many paycheck stubs, W-2 forms, or tax forms again…I may move to Canada and live in a tent.
9. Surviving the holidays…
10. Oh wait…they’re not over yet??  Damn.

This big list makes me wonder…. What will I survive next year?  Who will I meet?  Where will my job take me?  What blessings are just around the corner?

I only know one thing….my emotional and wish-list bags are packed…ready to hop onboard this thing called life.

No, I’m not wearing “mom jeans” (maybe one day) ….but I’m comfortable in my designer jeans…marketed to women not a day over 40.

One of my achievements - becoming a homeowner.... Home Depot here I come!

Pre-Birthday Celebration with the Girls

Dear Jealous Mother of any Man I Have Ever Dated…

Yes, I’m dating your son.  But not at gunpoint.  He’s a willing participant who signed up for something called “lots of hot sex in a committed, loving relationship that will hopefully god-willing lead to marriage.”  So quit making me feel like I’m a criminal.

My big question to you is…why are you so overzealous and jealous?  How has your motherly charm turned so utterly smotherly sour?  I am silently begging (well really cursing) you to STOP.

No, I’m not on drugs (only the legal kind), I don’t chain smoke.  I feed your son on a regular basis…albeit cheese, crackers, olives, dry cereal, and beer.   I have a real job…in fact a master’s degree from an accredited university…not one of those mail-order places.  My dad doesn’t pay my rent OR my text overages.  I know how to clean real silver…and how to make a real Jell-O mold.  I adore your son…and I’m not mooching off him.  I promise he loves good booze, wine, and entertainment as much as me.  I brush my teeth three times a day…which is two more times than him!  I only fart when I’m home alone…whereas your son farts consistently home alone with me.   Also, his new shirts and his new trendy eyeglasses you oooogle over…those were my ideas…not his!  And that bracelet he gave you…I picked it out…in fact I reminded him it was Mother’s Day!  So, in NO way shape or form do you oooh and aaah…then give him all the credit.  Yes, you raised him right…but he still needs mucho training.

Insecure Mother….Please do not say the following things to ME (otherwise known as the evil American girlfriend, EAG):

1. “You know…you don’t know him like I know him.” (Lady…when was the last time you saw him naked?  Exactly.)

2. “One of these days I’m going to tie him to a chair in my house so he can’t leave me.” (I don’t make this crap up.)

3. “He and his brother are just so so so close…it’s shame they don’t live closer.” (Thanks for the “double shot of guilt trip over ice.”)

4. “You know, traveling to America makes me very nervous.  In fact…I get hives when I have to leave him behind.” (Yeah, life sucks in this deserted “Day-after-Tomorrow” country called the U.S. of A.  How can the rest of us stand living here?)

5.  “Hair salons are SUCH a waste of money.  You know, I cut his hair until he was 18.”  (Eer…not a tradition I’m going to continue…sorry.)

6.  “You know, I just can’t believe you (EAG) don’t like lamb and goat cheese…those are my son’s two FAVORITE foods.”  (Yes, the world must be coming to an end.)

Insecure Mother….Please do not say the following things to HIM:

1.  Within 45 minutes of meeting me…”When are you moving back to England? And WHY aren’t you moving back to England?”  (Wow, that must be called classy hospitality.)

2.  While trying to establish yourself as the alpha female in the room… “Honey, what was your favorite themed birthday cake I made from scratch for you growing up?” (P.S.  I have cake pans…may only use them for dog bowls, but who cares?)

3.  While clutching your son with tears in the doorway…“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” when we were simply running errands for an extra 30 minutes while visiting you.

4.  After witnessing your son split an appetizer and entrée with me at a restaurant…”That’s NOT enough food for you!  Honey, you need more?”  (Don’t worry….he’s not starving…we do this all the time when you’re not around and the world NOR his bowel movements are coming to an end.)

5.  At the family dinner table…”Honey, you’re not living in America, you’re just visiting.”  (Whose apartment is he sleeping in then??)

6.  “Now that you’ve met her (EAG), I worry you’re never coming back.”  (Honestly, this hurts so much I can’t even write a joke.)

In closing, don’t criticize my religion, my beliefs, numerous other topics that shall remain nameless, the foods I eat, or how much I eat.  Don’t attempt to force feed me lamb, liver, fruitcake, or anything covered in gross sauces.  (There’s a reason I look this good.)  Yeah, sorry I don’t cook like a Paula Dean obsessed-southern woman…but the reality is…I’m trying to avoid heart disease and diabetes.

No, I don’t expect you to be my shopping buddy, my BFF on facebook, or even to remember my birthday.  What I do expect is kindness, respect, and gratitude that I have adored your son.  And something called “support.”  Which unfortunately, I’ll never receive, despite politely bending over backwards to gain your approval.  (I’ve shed more tears over this than a gay man at Les Mis.)

If you continue acting this way…I suggest your watch Dr. Phil…followed by Dr. Oz to gain some real perspective on this smotherly psychological condition….which I hope (for your son’s case) is NOT hereditary for any of his offspring.

And the next time I visit (if ever)…I may just ask you…”Hey, do you need a xanax?”

“Cuz I got one upstairs.”

Signed,  the woman you ran off

I’ve Been a Bad, Bad, Bad Bloggy Girl

Let’s face it.  We’re all bad sometimes.

My biggest sin – the absence from my blog the last few months.  Heck, as a former catholic schoolgirl, I need to go to confession.

My sincerest apologies go out to all my readers who wandered away…I pray you come trickling back.  In droves.  And bring some new friends too.

Perhaps the group most affected by my bloggy absence – my poor family.  They’ve had to actually resort to PICKING UP a cell phone and asking about my dates and tribulations the old fashioned way – through vocal prose.  Gone were those days when they could simply surf to a public site and receive a free “Leaza” update, courtesy of my busy night-owl fingers.  I had them spoiled.  I’m surprised my mom survived without her weekly laughs and/or gasps.

I admit – I got in a rut…a big Tonka Truck one.  It was mostly fueled by a domino effect of dating dilemnas, job stress, summer lovin’, and an endless stream of visitors.  Every time I thought, “I need to blog”…something more important came up…like flossing.  Or reading the Instyle autumn September issue.  Or attending the largest microbrew tasting in the US – conveniently located only 5.3 miles away!

I guess the “best” part of being gone – is that you feel missed.  I received numerous emails with the term, “Are you alive?” and “Please say you didn’t get married” in the subject line.  Geez, I never knew so many people in Iowa were following my dating adventures!  Hugs. I even had close friends offer to “take over the blog” while I got my act together.  It’s as if I was driving a tanker with no hands and my bffs wanted to hop aboard and turn this baby into Operation Bloggy Rescue.  That, my friends, is teamwork…or at least unconditional love.

So…just to briefly catch you up on the life of Leaza…here’s the scoop.  First, I switched to a new HGTV show as a full-time writer.  Let’s face it, I’ve been so busy documenting someone else’s story, I forgot to document my own.  (Thankfully my life does not involve home remodeling.)  Second, both of my grandmothers ended up in the hospital at the same time.  This makes you the ponder the term, “Life is short” along with “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”  I now refuse to let “that asshole” at work affect my mood…it’s not worth it!  And third, I’m officially back on the dating market, eyes peeled and hair curled.  Yep, I’ve already swooned on some great dates, secretly suffered through some others. But all in all, fall is off to a great start.  It’s “hunting season.”

So dearest Blog,

Please forgive the neglect. It’s as if no time has passed, right?  I swear I haven’t cheated on you with facebook.

Love, Leaza

P.S. If you’re new to my blog, consider checking out a few “oldies but goodies” –

Exhausted from Pimpin Myself Out

Finding 7 Minutes of Heaven in 8 Minutes of Speed Dating

So I Told My Mom About My Blog

When Good Men Wear Bad Clothes

aka Bad Bad Bloggy Girl!

Celebrating My Anniversary, NOT the Marriage Kind

Tick, tock…tick, tick, tick….

Native I’ll never be…but a Colorado transplant I’m happy to be. And a lucky one at that.

It was ONE YEAR AGO this month when I packed up my mini-cooper in Dallas, blazed a fierce trail to Denver, and started my life OVER. (well not really, but close enough) Yep, that’s what a cross country move does – it encompasses more than just a new chapter – it’s a different book entirely.

I had a love affair with Colorado from 1997 to 1999 when I attended CU-Boulder for graduate school. After living in the dreamworld of the Rockies, I found myself moving to a small Texas tv market to start my journalism career and “pay my dues” (aka starve to death and cover boring-ass city council meetings). In the back of my mind though, I always thought, “Colorado….I’ll be back!”

Over the next 10 years, my personal zip code and television career landed me in Little Rock, Kansas City, and Dallas. Sure the people were nice (news flash: people are nice everywhere), and I made some amazing friends, but the weather SUCKED! And the scenery – no comparison to Colorado.  One day…my heart told me it was about time I did something for myself. So I opened the vault, found my dream, landed a job with a solid tv production company in Denver – and MOVED.

When you’re a newbie in town, time DOES fly. And to mark my big anniversary, I’m posting the top 10 things I have learned about “starting over.”

1. Learn to be alone – in public.

Bottom line – you must “go at it” alone at first – to have a handful of good girlfriends for the future. The only way to meet people – is to force yourself to be social through groups, outings, meet-up events, work happy hours, etc. Throw yourself to the masses and focus on other “newbies.” It’s a numbers game. Some people will stick, others won’t. It’s kind of like dating – minus the free dinners.

2. Don’t worry about buying a lot of new clothes.

New co-workers and friends will think your clothes from two years ago are brand-new since they’ve never seen them before! It’s quite liberating.  That “old shirt” suddenly looks “new” again. Chances are – one of your new girlfriends will want to borrow it!

3. Pets are like family…usually better than family.

Furry friends help you survive the lonely weekend nights before you know ANYONE to rock the town with on a regular basis. Also, they don’t argue over which DVD to rent.  Even my cat, Waylon, helps me feel safe at night despite having no claws.

4. In your 30s, it’s a small dating world after all.

Even though it’s a new city and you’re starting “fresh”….it only takes about five months until you see guys you’ve already dated before at a local bar. (Asshole Andy and Belgium Boy just to name a few)  Every now and then, suck it up and go on a date with a dude in the burbs.

5. Facebook will get you through the hard times.

Of course you can keep track of girlfriends, secretly stalk old flames, and check in on your siblings. Better yet, you can post pictures of yourself in your fabulous new town, experiencing all its fabulous new adventures….hence making everyone else jealous.

6. If you’re forced to downsize, you won’t miss the extra space.

Trust me, even though it’s more expensive than “your old town,” you’ll be just as happy with less square footage in your “new town.” I’m more giddy on a daily basis because I have one less bathroom to clean.  Less IS more.  And I never miss my old, scary Freddy Kruger basement.

7. It’s fun playing tourist in your new hometown.

Chances are…you’re seeing more in the city than most people born in that particular town. I’m always amazed when I meet people raised in Colorado who have NEVER tried snow skiing.  That’s like living in New York and NEVER shopping.

8. Much of your future success and happiness comes from people you do not know yet!

Weird to think about this, but very true. People walk in your life when you least expect it – they can impact your personal and professional life in more ways imaginable. So be nice to everyone (well, at first anyways).  That bee-atch who at first seemed cold, could actually help you get a job promotion someday.

9. Good friends will come and visit – and it’s easy to pick up right where you left off.

Usually the “picking up” involves wine, sangria, outdoor patios, giggles, shrieks, laughs, then hangovers…in no particular order. Once the word spreads you live in a “cool” place, expect more visitors.  Stock up on tour guide materials.  Before you know it, friends and family expect you to plan their vacations.

10. And finally….one of my favorite quotes (author unknown)…to sum up starting over:

“If you resist change, or hold on to the past, you postpone all future blessings awaiting you on the next level.”

In lieu of anniversary gifts, I am asking that you comment on my blog. Or pass it on to someone who wants to make a change, but cannot find the courage.

The day I moved...

and the state I moved to...

Flip My Star Trek Switch and Hear Me Roar!

They say a picture is worth…a thousand giggles.  Right?  Or in this case, a thousand “AMENS!”   (Kudos to eye guy’s bro-in-law for passing on this image.) Counselors should clearly print out copies at marriage retreats, then send everybody home to save time, money, and sanity.

A Universal Letter Addressed to the manly masses….from EVERY WOMAN I KNOW:

************************************************************

Dear Guy “I’m Dating” (or the guy any woman is dating, married to, sleeping with, hoping to sleep with, engaged to, or about to dump)….

Please memorize the above dials on this ever-so-retro Star Trek control panel.

As you can CLEARLY see, women are simple creatures.  Find our optimal frequency, and we’ll love you throughout football season…into the playoffs.  Dial down the wrong buttons, and we’re apt to come unglued at the most inappropriate times…most likely in front of your extended family at Disneyworld.

Guys…with so many switches, what’s NOT to love?  Think of our diverse emotions, our quick ability to switch moods in the mere time it takes you to floss. Can you imagine your life without laughs one moment…and cries the next (all during Extreme Home Makeover)?

Yes, we are neurotic, opinionated, bossy, exhausted, bee-atchy, high strung, and blunt.  But if you look closer at those multi-colored knobs…you’ll also discover we’re lovable, funny, “can’t-live-without,” soft-spoken, intellectual, sexual, and given-just-the-right-amount-of-alcohol…extremely flirty.

So, dudes – find the mood you like…and give our knobs a twirl.  Just try and avoid punching the sensitivity button ALL TIMES of day.  (Although we can’t tell you where that one is located permanently…because it changes on a daily basis.)

For our best “operating results”…read our instruction manual.

Who cares if it’s in Chinese?   The language barrier certainly doesn’t hinder you at Mr. Wong’s Asian Buffet.

If you’re a real man, you’ll read the directions. And if you’ve lost the directions (along with the refrigerator manual)….it’s best to pull over and ask for help.

Signed,

the love or lust of your life (mood-dependent)

Somehow Learning to Say NO

Amidst my hectic, whirlwind work day two days ago, my dad sent me a text message which landed me in “lah-lah land” for a brief moment.  Often times, text messages carry NO real substance.  This one, however, left me thinking….”Wow, my dad is right”…as I pondered my current existence.

The text message read….”What can you say ‘no’ to…so you have the time to say ‘yes’ to the important?”

As I thought about this simple question, I actually started to tear up ever so slightly.  No, I wasn’t PMS-ing, I was rather reacting to my present state of mind – which at that moment – was CHAOS.  My dad could sense my borderline panic attack during our earlier phone call, and reached out to me in an efficient time-saving “2010” aka texting manner.

Look everyone….I’m guilty as charged.  I’m so busy saying ‘YES” to things that DON’T matter….I become so exhausted I CAN’T enjoy the things that DO matter.  Where’s the fun in that stupid practice?  It’s “over-saturation” at its finest.

To those of you who frequent my blog, you’ve probably noticed my pathetic absence.  Truth is….I’ve overcommitted myself.  Forget about the current seven day week…I need a nine day week…plus an extra three days for the weekend.  Maybe then, I’ll have time to catch up and actually sleep 8 hours straight.

This spring, I’ve fallen into my familiar “bad habit” pattern — saying YES to everything.  I nod yes to lengthy phone calls with friends and family, yes to happy hours, yes to working late, yes to working through lunch, yes to starting work early, yes to blowing off the gym, yes to cutting it too close, yes to facebook, yes to driving across town for events that don’t matter, yes to staying up a few more hours, yes to frivolous brunches, and YES to things I somehow forget about in entirety the next week.

Then I find myself COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED, unable to enjoy the precious moments to the fullest with close friends….or a special friend….or simply glossing over a spectacular moment…or postponing something that really matters.

What happened to the word “no” in my vocabulary?  I sure didn’t have a hard time saying NO as a toddler OR teenager.  Why did it suddenly sneak away in my 30s?  Wherever “no” went, I desperately it back in my life.  Oh, “no,” I’ve missed you so.

I’ve decided “we” as women love (or rather LIVE) to overcommit.  Dudes don’t seem to have this problem.  I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.  I have never thought to myself…”Wow, my guy friend so-and-so is so so busy and overcommitted in life.  He must be stressed.”  Mostly, men are better at women at saying NO.  (Actually this topic makes for a great future blog post so I’m going to quit typing now.)

Bottom line, here’s my promise to myself….the things I borderline care about will NOT take precedence over the things I passionately care about.  Maybe that’s a lofty order…but I consider it a healthy checkpoint.

And to my good friends and close relatives, if I blow you off from time to time, don’t take it personally.  I may simply be trying to save my sanity that particular week.

In closing…this is me saying “NO” to writing any more words for this post…and YES to hitting the sack before midnight…just barely.

So I Told My Mom About My Blog

Inevitably, secrets rise to the surface.  This past week, I took a leap of faith (or craziness) and informed my mother about my somewhat anonymous blog.  The time had come to share with her I had transformed from a geeky, straight A elementary school student into a 30-something year old serial Denver dater on the eternal prowl.  (OK…this is a stretch, but you get the point.)

I knew if I didn’t tell her…the news would leak.  Already, my “twin girl-power cousins” were “in-the-know.”  Plus, it was only a matter of time before some random family member got tipsy (aka drunkola) at one of my Irish Catholic family reunions and spilled the bloggy beans.  So…I sent my mother (who lives in Texas) a simple email, came clean about my life in the virtual world…and waited.

Dot – dot – dot….

A few days later, my mom called me and immediately launched into what I prayed would become a “positive lecture.”

She spouted off – right at the top – three main points…”I love the blog!  You’re talented and your writing is humorous.”  Then (after a pregnant pause)…“but every now and then I catch a whiff of bitterness.  And I don’t want people to think you’re bitter.  Because you’re not.”

You know what?  She’s right.  I’m not bitter.  And I don’t want to come across as bitter.  In fact, BITTER could become the new “4-letter word” in the world of 30-something year old dating.  I do, however, want to come across as funny.  I credit my writing style to my slightly sarcastic sense of humor coupled with uncanny ability to laugh at bad relationship snafus.  For some reason, I find humor in situations when other women may shed tears – or break out in rage – or give up!  Maybe I’ll just call it a chronic case of resiliency!

I do, however, see a lot of single women in their 30s who are bitter.  And men too.  But face it, men aren’t really reading my blog like women are – so why waste time talking about men? (My mom might say this is an example of my bitterness.  Lol.)

My philosophy is simple – there’s a BIG difference between “having your guard up” – and acting “bitter.”  And yes, while I’m constantly “on the prowl”…AND keeping my guard up while perusing for Mr. Right….I never want to be considered bitter.  Bitter is bad.  And if you’re bitter – men can sense it before they start talking to you at a bar….Or while they stand behind you at the Target check-out line.  So wash away the bitterness…before it becomes your next cologne.

Yep, I’ve been heart broken, dumped, cheated on, lied to, dissed, stood up, even left stranded in a park…but somehow I keep pluggin’ along – knowing SOMEONE SPECIAL is out there – earmarked for moi.  And if he senses I’m bitter – he’ll just jump ship to the next blond.  I’d rather pour my heart into a possible relationship, take a chance, and face rejection once more again — than GOD forbid – act bitter.

So Mom, thank you for becoming my newest reader.  Please remember – you may not like all my posts.  In fact you may cringe at some of them.  But I hope to offer you many laughs.  I’m sure we’ll disagree at times….but ONE thing we do agree on – I’m NOT bitter.

Also, since you finally have DSL….how long will it take you to figure out I mentioned you in my blog?  Bonus points for figuring out how to “comment” on this post.

Love, Me

XOXOXO

Like Mother, Like Daughter