7 minutes of heaven in 20-11

I bet you made a New Year's Resolution list this year, didn't you? No, no, I'm not knocking on your resolutions--(remember my resolution was to be more POSITIVE this year?! To knock your resolution would be a perfect example of negativity, you d-wad!).

Anywhos. Resolutions. They can build us up, or break us down. One year  I resolved to be a dolphin trainer, that didn't work out for me in 1997--so I was let down for my entire year. Last year I resolved to write a blog on dating and romance as a 20-something. Lots of peeps read my babble in 2010--that was a good resolution last year. 

So what about this year? Well this year my best friend, Nick and I, have decided to issue a challenge to the world. I am happy to announce that 2011 will officially be known as:

"SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN IN 20-11"

That's right, peeps! I have issued you a challenge to aimlessly make out with countless numbers of people for 7-minutes as many times as you possibly can this year! After all--it IS 2011! 

Let me answer some of those burning questions you are having: 

Q. Do I have to be in a closet to partake in the 7-minutes of Heaven smooches?

A. Certainly not! Our ancestors have traditionally 7 minutes in heaven'd in some of our nation's finest closets, but with this new decade upon us, I encourage you to find other places to find 7 minutes of bliss! 

Q. Should I know my kissing partner before I spend 7 minutes with them?

A. Not necessarily. The world is your make-out oyster. Have at it! Mouths open, tongues out! Let's go, people! 

Q. Will I be timed?

A. Yes. I will be by each and every one of you with a stop watch, ensuring that you are only making out for 7 minutes. Anyone over 7 minutes will be issued a ticket and be expected to show up in court--LOVE COURT! 

Please feel free to leave any of your other questions in the comment box below. After leaving a comment please go find the nearest person and spend 7 minutes "M and O'ing". I will be checking on you soon. 

Gay Bar Probation...perhaps it was a good idea?

If you have been reading the blog from the beginning, you will remember that I put myself on "Gay Bar Probation" about a year ago (http://maddebelle.blogspot.com/2010/01/on-your-discostick.html) in an attempt to peel myself away from the arms of the adoring gay men in my life, and leap into the less fabulous arms of a straight man. I realized how ridiculous this decision was very soon after I proclaimed my probation on the internets, and have since returned (many times) to the places where fruity drinks flow freely and the dance floor is begging for me to take a boogie all up on it.

For a straight girl with bleach blonde hair and a flare for wearing animal prints, the gay bar is a haven...a safe-place, if you will. A short sparkly skirt isn't met with the googly eyes and drool-drenched faces of a man waiting to pounce on my lady bits, rather it is met with a "Heeeey Girl! You rock that! Take a spin around the room!" It's a lovely feeling to walk into a bar, not a meat market. Well, I should say it WAS a lovely feeling, until the other night...

This was me the other night. A mop of blonde hair atop my head and lips smothered in my new Chanel lipstick "CoCo". 

I have been in an artistic hibernation for the past 3 months, spending every night in a dark theater telling tales and making fart jokes for money. I finally had a night off. My friend Aaron had suggested we go out for an evening of fun. I was all in! We hopped from one place to another. Seeing the sights, enjoying the smells of the city, and because I'm not a huge drinker, the beats of the dance floor at a local gay bar. I don't like to drink, but I have never met a dance floor I don't like! 

Having had a tumultuous summer full of dates with boys from the wrong side of the tracks (more to come at a later date..if I can stomach it), I looked forward to an evening of dancing. I danced. And I danced. And I danced some more. Jumping from one side of the room to another, hands in the air, swinging my mop of blonde locks from side-to-side. My dancing reached a level of...shall we say...umm...huh..what's the word...insanity? Sure. It reached a level of insanity. And then...BAM! I punched some dude in the face!! Woops.

When you punch someone in the face while dancing, they should yell at you and walk away. This man did not do that. Instead he invaded my personal space with his groove thang. Still under the impression that I was in a gay bar and my lady-bits were safe, I proceeded to dance with this fellow as an apology for Mike Tyson'ing him. What happened next is....repulsive. I apologize for anything I am about to say. He...oh god...well, you see...he...uhh...well...umm...he licked my ear. It was gross. I know you are sitting there thinking..."Gross. That is disgusting."...To that I say, yes, it is disgusting, but you didn't have to have it happen to you. So I need your sympathy, not your judgement right now. 

Ok, so this stranger licks my ear. I push him away and I'm all..."Excuse me? Did you just lick my ear?" He nods. "Ok, umm..ya. You can't do that again. I'm a girl..you know that, right?" to which he says..."I'm straight! You think I'm gay??" Yes, yes, yes, all sorts of yes! I think you're gay because your hair is slicked back, your shoes are pointy, and you are dancing at the gay bar!  Maybe this is judgmental of me. And if it is, I'm ok with that! YOU LICKED MY EAR! 

The moral of the stories, kids...your ears are never safe. Someone is always lurking around the dance floor corner waiting to stick their tongue in your ear. Watch out. Be safe. And just remember, always keep dancing! And never date a man who puts his tongue in your ear. You don't know where that tongue has been. 

Is there dust in your eye? oh..that's a flirty wink...awkward. Stop that.

(this is a picture of an awkward audition. that old guy in the background will be directing this piece..and touching you whether you like it or not...he will pretend it's him trying to help you speak from your diaphragm..we know that's a lie.)

Ok, put your dance belts on! Stretch it out! It's time to do a reading of my new play called: "Inept Flirting Girl" Ready?

Boy:

Hey Girl. You look cute today.

Girl:

Stop it. You don't mean that. Seriously. Stop that. Walk away. Now.

Boy:

(winks at Girl)

Girl: 

You should get some eye drops. Your eye seems dry.

Boy:

(sits close so his arm is touching hers)

Girl:

Oh, do you not have enough room in that seat of yours, buddy? Why don't you give a lady her space?

Boy:

(Runs away crying)

....and SCENE! 

Take a bow!

That was an excerpt from the play, it was Scene One: Common Scenario of Inept Flirting Girl, Just another Monday. While everyone we saw at callbacks for this play were good, the role of the girl in this scene is going to be played by ME. Sorry folks. See you at the next auditions!

I am not a flirty person. Any type of flirtation that comes out of me is merely by accident. You see, I think I may have been dropped as a child causing my flirting tools to be permanently damaged.

When it comes to flirtation many people say.."live in the moment" or "just feel it out"..here's the thing..it makes me uncomfortable to feel it out, it makes me feel stupid to live in that moment.  I have a lot of friends who like to "get their sexy on," but that's simply not me. It doesn't matter who it is in front of me too.

As the recipient of flirtation, I am a mess as well. He could be a dolphin trainer with the looks of Hugh Grant and I would still behave like a bumbling idiot. If someone winks at me, I wonder if they have a piece of dust stuck in their eye. If a boy sits close to me, I assume it's because they don't have enough room on their enormous couch, and then politely ask them to scoot over so that I can have room to breathe. Say for instance his hand brushes mine, I make no mind to that..I assume it's because they have a shaky hand and it just shook over to mine by accident.

 Flirting makes me feel dumb. There. I said it. 

I have this thought, flirting is a little selfish if you think about it. It makes the Flirter feel good about themselves, it isn't always about making the Flirtee feel special. You see, flirting allows one to show off how charming and adorable they are. By flirting with another person they develop an inflated sense of self. They think, "Wow, I'm so suave and delicious. This person has no chance at resisting the meal I'm bringing to this dinner table!"

Now, now..calm down, I'm not saying that I'm a martyr because I wasn't born with the flirting gene, but I am saying that flirting is an act of ulterior motives. Perhaps we flirt to make ourselves feel desirable? 

They say people are born flirts. Babies are born and start winking at everyone,  and people just say about them, "Oh, he's such a flirt!"...but where did he learn that? He flirts with everyone because he's a baby, it makes him feel good about himself! His flirting target is of no mind to him, he just likes winking and feeling like the big baby on campus! It doesn't matter if it's his classmates at daycare, the lady at the check out at Babies-R-Us, or even his own mother! He flirts because he's a baby and it gives him power! (I'm not saying I hate babies. They are fine...I guess)

Flirting is not something I can do. I wasn't born a winker, and I'm not going to evolve into one. It's just the cross I have to bear. I have to go rehearse my play now. "Inept Flirting Girl" will open next summer...in my basement. There are seats for everyone. I have to cast BOY, but I keep stumbling over them every time I go out on a date, so I'm sure I'll find one and then about 45 understudies. 

An open letter to...THE CRAZY MEN WHO HIT ON ME DURING THE FULL MOON,

I just found out that full moon's happen every 28 days (don't ask me why I didn't know this before...yikes!). Perhaps it was this new-found knowledge, or just crazy full moon behavior, but this week was full of the crazies all up in my bizzzz-naaaasss! So, I offer you an open letter to....THE CRAZY MEN WHO HIT ON ME DURING THE FULL MOON!

Dear THE CRAZY MEN WHO HIT ON ME DURING THE FULL MOON,

You guys...where did you come from? Seriously? I'm concerned. 

This week I was minding my own business and BAM! there you are. I've never seen you out and about before! Hitting on me from all angles. I didn't even know how to respond!

This may be an invasive question, but since you have already invaded MY space...I'm sure you'll understand. 

Are you werewolves? It's ok...you can tell me. I won't tell anyone. I just need to know. If you are werewolves, I probs don't want you all up in my bizz as I don't want to catch the werewolf from you! You understand this, right?  

Imagine, if you will, seeing this girl out and about on the town...what about her blue bow makes you think that she wants you all up in her area distracting her from her vodka delight? 

Let me talk to each of you individually because I don't want the others to hear. Let me start with you MAN WITH A MULLET AT THE NEIGHBORHOOD BAR.

Sir, I just...I...jesus..I just don't even know where to start. 

My friend and I certainly are the age of a daughter you may or may not have.  Your insistent awkward banter is upsetting me. Please, for the love of your mullet...stop. 

Ok, GUY PRETENDING TO BE MY WAITER.

The jig is up, dude...I know you don't work at this restaurant. You know how I know? You're drinking a pitcher of beer when you say you're going off to get me some more waiter. 

No, I will not tip you by giving you my number.

No, I will not drink anything you have given me.

No, I will not even look you in your creepy face. 

Stop.

Alright, MAN WHO SORTA LOOKS LIKE A GIRL AND IS WEARING A HALTER TOP WITH SKULLS ON IT:

Where did you even come from, sir??? It was Pride weekend, were you lost? I'm sorry, that was a mean thing to say. I apologize. But seriously, where the eff did you come from, and why are you lounging at the bar staring down my shirt? It's unnerving. 

Cute top though. 

You're not going unnoticed, GUY WHO HONKED AT ME FROM HIS CAR AS I DROVE HOME FROM THE THEATER!

Sir, honking at little blonde girls when they are driving and winking is frowned upon these days. Perhaps you didn't know...but this is common sense. 

Also, sir...I'm wondering why you thought THIS....

....was something you needed to tap. I still had clown make-up on my face, I may or may not have just been picking my nose, and I always drive with that sneer on my face. 

May I ask...what did you find so enticing?

Sir, let me drive and leave me to my driving. 

Finally...

MARRIED GUY.

Have you no common sense? Also, what makes you think I'm "the other woman" material. Here's a tip for you, buddy...I'm not! 

Also, you just talked about your wife...so umm...that's a dealbreaker for me, ladies! Get it together. Keep it in your knickers, and get out of my face. Please. Your cute level went down 304% when you asked me out. 

Puke. On. Your. Face.

Gentlemen, work it out and get it together over the next 28 days before the full moon returns. 

Cute, normal, non-werewolf men....call me.

xo, 

Me