You folks are in for a treat! I now have in my possession the 3rd edition of Blogging For Dummies. Go ahead, laugh if you must, but there is much more to this web logging venture than melodically tip-tapping away on a keyboard. For instance; I'm supposed to "understand my audience." Well, if you are reading this now; you are either related to me, in my email address book, a facebook junkie or a hapless stranger who likes to roam the web & read nonsense. Come to think of it, not understanding/knowing my audience makes creating this page more enjoyable for me. I would probably be less candid & conversational if I knew who was reading. Its a sort of thrill composing to a dark room...like an actor or a musician on a well-lit stage who can't see the eyeballs of the people watching them. The dummy book also managed to burst my blog bubble. Chapter One:
"With millions of blogs in the world...it's obvious that blogging is a popular and successful format for publishing a Web site. But just what are people doing with blogs? They can't all be talking about their cats!"
Gasp! They're on to me!
Let's get down to business. There's been something on my mind (that's a good sign, right?). A few months back there was a man traveling on the ferry boat that I work on. His image is burned onto my brain (hopefully temporarily). He was slightly shorter than the average male, had a receding hairline & sported a 70's a-la-Burt-Reynolds mustache. He was chewing gum & wearing a bright yellow t-shirt that read: "La Te F@#*ing Da." He wanted to purchase a beer with the breakfast buffet at 8am. What a charmer. Later in the afternoon I had the pleasure of interacting with this man while serving him Budweisers. He looked at me with a crooked smile, chewing his cud, and asked me:
If, while sitting in a parked car, you tell me that you Love me...and I immediately open up the driver's door and throw up all over the pavement of the parking lot. (For the record, I was really drunk).
Let's get down to business. There's been something on my mind (that's a good sign, right?). A few months back there was a man traveling on the ferry boat that I work on. His image is burned onto my brain (hopefully temporarily). He was slightly shorter than the average male, had a receding hairline & sported a 70's a-la-Burt-Reynolds mustache. He was chewing gum & wearing a bright yellow t-shirt that read: "La Te F@#*ing Da." He wanted to purchase a beer with the breakfast buffet at 8am. What a charmer. Later in the afternoon I had the pleasure of interacting with this man while serving him Budweisers. He looked at me with a crooked smile, chewing his cud, and asked me:
"Are you a bad girl?"
Now, I was not about to entertain this nutbar by answering his question, so I rolled my eyes and handed him his change. Unfortunately, he continued speaking:
"Oh no! You're not a good girl that goes after bad boys? The kind of boys that work in construction & ride motorcycles? I'm a Private Investigator. I see it ALL of the time."
Huh?! Seriously, is it THAT obvious?! Do I have it tattooed on my forehead? Wait a second...he said he's a Private Investigator...has this wacko been following me?!? He must have noticed that his last comment poked me in the ribs because he ended the conversation by saying:
"Ah-ha! Pegged ya', didn't I?"
Pegged? Surely not. But the dialogue that day sounded a little alarm inside of my head: A complete stranger blatantly suggested that dating a construction worker is a bad idea. I must have skipped that page in the Dating Handbook. Perhaps because it screams of stereotyping; a practice that I attempt to avoid (yet am guilty of nonetheless). Stereotypes aside, I began to wonder: Did I miss some of the warning signs along this winding road of courtship? Why yes, yes I did. There have been some red flags. Maybe even a few crossing guards standing in the middle of the road wearing reflective safety vests and holding 8-foot stop signs. This ponderance prompted me to make mental notes on the blinking red "bad ideas" I failed to notice in the past. I've decided to document a handful of them now...as entertainment for my nondescript audience of course. Below are a few signs that you & I should NOT be dating:
Pegged? Surely not. But the dialogue that day sounded a little alarm inside of my head: A complete stranger blatantly suggested that dating a construction worker is a bad idea. I must have skipped that page in the Dating Handbook. Perhaps because it screams of stereotyping; a practice that I attempt to avoid (yet am guilty of nonetheless). Stereotypes aside, I began to wonder: Did I miss some of the warning signs along this winding road of courtship? Why yes, yes I did. There have been some red flags. Maybe even a few crossing guards standing in the middle of the road wearing reflective safety vests and holding 8-foot stop signs. This ponderance prompted me to make mental notes on the blinking red "bad ideas" I failed to notice in the past. I've decided to document a handful of them now...as entertainment for my nondescript audience of course. Below are a few signs that you & I should NOT be dating:If you live in your mother's basement. And you're 35.
If I find another woman's wallet on your nightstand.
If, while sitting in a parked car, you tell me that you Love me...and I immediately open up the driver's door and throw up all over the pavement of the parking lot. (For the record, I was really drunk).
If you incessantly critique my driving skills (or lack there of) from the passenger's seat. And you refuse obtain a driver's license.
If, in a futile attempt to prevent you from acting like an even bigger jackass than you already are, I take your shots of whiskey sitting on the bar before you notice them.
If I get chastised for buying you Natural Light instead of Natural Ice.
If you insist upon drinking your nasty beer (see above) warm because you can guzzle it faster.
If you can't come to grips with your financial status. It doesn't matter if you're a pauper or a billionaire. We all have bills to pay. If you're in such distress about it, go buy a lotto ticket & say a prayer to Ed McMahon.
If, on multiple occasions, you tell me that on my 35th Birthday I'm going to wake up and want to have a baby. My uterus is not a ticking time bomb. And the fact that you think you can predict the future of my reproductivity is slightly unsettling.
If you read Wayne Dyer while taking a shit.
If making simple plans, i.e. going to see a movie or coming over to chow down on a pot of homemade chili, is too much commitment for you.
If you avoid meeting my family. So what if we've only been together for a few months? I don't expect you to ask my dad for my hand in marriage or have coffee talk with my mom every morning. But I DO expect you to be the least bit interested in where I came from...just as I am of you.
If you whisper sweet nothings to me such as: You can come over to watch a movie but no sleepovers. Or - You're my Volkswagen, low maintenance & reliable.
If, during every third conversation between us, you make mention of your ex-wife. And is that your wedding picture that just appeared hanging above the stairwell in your house? For real?! Get over her. Or get back with her.
And lastly...
If you don't have the balls to end things in person when you're done with me. Unless you're climbing Mt Everest and at 29,000ft you sever a limb. In such an instance I MIGHT accept a Nepali Sherpa on my doorstep with a note scrawled in blood.
Blogging for Dummies also informed me that: "Frequency of blog posts is a big deal." Hmm...define "frequency?" Apparently many-a-blogger in the sphere type a post at least three times per week to keep readers tuned in. I promise you, there will be no such frequency here. My goal is to write two times/month. So La Te F@#*ing Da. I hope that after reading some of the above dating missteps a few of you will be in touch with examples of the warning signs you missed...or ignored. Maybe that way I'll gain a clue as to what may be lurking around the next bend.
"You can never make the same mistake twice...because the second time you make it, its not a mistake, its a choice."
