Do we ever recover from the "friendship talk"?

You guys, we've all been there. Where? You know where. Still don't know where? Yes, you do. You were there like a minute ago. No? Yes. We've all been a part of...

....the dreaded "friend talk"....

Where do I even begin? I'll start by saying this...it's awkward. Like SUPER awkward. No, really..you may think it's not going to be awkward, but it is. Stop fighting it. It's awkward for both of you. There. We said it.

You see, the "friend talk" usually has good intentions, but will always end poorly. The mere fact that one needs to have the "Let's just be friends" talk means many things. Mainly, this means we were never friends to begin with, and now I'm trying to back out easily so that things don't get awky turtle up in here.

The question is this...can we ever recover from this awkward party and actually be friends? Let's explore this, shall we?

My thoughts are this: One person is always going to resent the other for bringing this topic up in the first place. The friend talk doesn't come out of Nowhereville after all! The friend talk comes when one of the people is all..."Hey, I dig you..let's hug and tell each other our dreams" and the other person is all..."Ummm..no. I've been meaning to talk to you about this.....blah blah blah..awkward awkward awkward..friendship metaphors, friendship metaphors, uncomfortable smiles..ends with an awkward hug". And how does that make the other person feel? Well, I'll be frank...makes 'em feel like poop.

I've been on both sides of this equation, and it ain't pretty from either side! If you're the one makin' proclaiming your admiration for someone, you've already pumped yourself up with adrenaline to numb yourself from the fear of admitting your feelings and showing them you are actually a girl..and you have feelings..and a heart..and you like them..and stuff.....(so I've heard....), so to be greeted with the friendship talk leaves you feeling vulnerable, like ysomeone was just like.."Hey! You! Ya, you! You forgot to put on a shirt this morning and now you're walking down the street like a fool! I'm judging you! Bwhahaha..evil laughter coming from my face!" Yikes.

When you are on the other side though, you have to choose your words VERY CAREFULLY. "I don't want to hurt his feelings. He's been so precious before things got all awky. Be nice. Make like Ella Fitzgerald and accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. Sandwich this blow with some positive things. Oh, I know! Let's still be friends"...ummm...no.

The awkward nature of this conversation leads to embarrassment. Always. There is no way around that. So the answer to our question? We can be friends depending on how quickly we can let go of our pride issues. For me? It takes awhile. Whether I'm the bearer of bad news, or the one with the heart on her sleeve...I can't help it. I function at the maturity level of a 12 year old boy. Deal with it. My friends do!

"Love is blind. Friendship tries not to notice."

An open letter to...THE BIRDS THAT ARE POOPING ALL OVER MY JETTA!

Recently I made a very large purchase. She is wonderful. She brings joy to my life. She purrs like a German kitten, and sings with the power of a Wagner aria. Yes, my midnight blue Jetta is one of my prized possessions. In recent days, though, I have noticed she has been getting abused. Hardcore! And you know what? I'm supey over it. So..an open letter to....THE BIRDS THAT ARE POOPING ALL OVER MY JETTA.

Dear THE BIRDS THAT ARE POOPING ALL OVER MY JETTA,

You guys! Stop it!

Jetta is not your bathroom, she is a car! A car that deserves love and respect. Either give Jetta the respect she deserves by flying down to Walgreens and strapping yourself into a diaper, or flap your little wings south for the Summer too. I'm over it, you guys. Get it together, it's 2010.

Regards,

Me

An open letter to...THE CRAZIES I ENCOUNTERED AT MY PART-TIME JOB

Well folks, today I celebrated my last day as a receptionist (for 2010, at least). As a receptionist you meet some of the most concerning people on the planet. I thought I would mark this momentous occasion with some advice for some of the ones I'm most concerned about. That brings me to today's open letter to....CRAZIES THAT I ENCOUNTERED AT MY PART-TIME JOB.

Dear CRAZIES THAT I ENCOUNTERED AT MY PART-TIME JOB,

Oh, hey guys. I hesitate to put you all into one category because you're so vastly different. Do you mind separating yourselves into the groups in which you think you belong? I'll come by to each group, one by one..please keep your voices down while I take this journey..it's hard to hear in this small room.

1. People that put a question mark at the end of their names...

Example:

*Me: And what is your name?

*You: Umm..Angela??

Mmmmk..My question for you is this, Angela...are you not sure of that last statement? I'll admit it, I'm a little worried. Has your name changed since you popped out of your mother? I could understand if you were from Japan and you decided to "Americanize" your name when you got here, but Angela sounds like a pretty standard name to me, but it's very likely that I'm ignorant.

Here's my theory about you, Angela?, I think you have low self-steam. You make excuses for simply being you. You don't shout from the mountain tops, "I AM ANGELA! HEAR ME ROAR! LET'S TONGUE-KISS, WORLD!"Angela, I don't think you do this. Methinks you should look into it.

2. People that whisper on the phone...

Hello? Are you there? I can't hear you..hello?? (Madde turns up the volume on the phone to the highest point) HELLO?????

Oh, there you are. You see, I couldn't hear you...do you know why? I couldn't hear you because you were whispering on the phone. When you whisper on the phone, person on the other line....I worry. I think you might be stuck in a bomb shelter somewhere, or sitting next to a sleeping bear that will eat you if you get too loud. If neither of those things are happening, a bit of advice...speak up, please. I don't speak dolphin whistle. There is no way I will be able to hear you.

3. People that talk on their cellphones while paying for their things...

4 simple words for you. GET.OFF.YOUR.PHONE.

Seriously, I'm here in front of you...there are people behind you...there are people around you..get of your stinkin' phone for 3 minutes and get this business taken care of. Please especially don't whisper at me and throw your credit card at me to do your bidding as you chat away! You are hurting my feelings sorta..

Person on your phone, how important is that conversation about your son's first kiss at his school dance? I can tell you that I certainly don't care, and that if your son knew you even knew about it AND were blabbing your mouth about it to another mother on the phone..he'd be horrified! Said son would ask to move out, be put up for adoption, or get a new mother (like that movie where those kids get to go choose new parents at an old market..do you remember that movie? I loved that movie..a lot. Anyone know the name of that one? Let's watch it and snuggle..) Anyway, get off your phone please and treat me with respect..gracias.

Crazies, I get that we all have to live together. I just ask that you learn to interact in the real world like a normal person. I really hope you do some self-exploration and reassess how you rock it in the world?

I say this from the bottom of my heart, crazies...Truly. Deeply. Passionately. Sincerely.

Love,

Me

I'd luv to kiss ya, but I just washed my hair.- Bette Davis

There's a theory in the world that if a woman cuts her hair off into a short haircut, men lose interest in her...RIGHT AWAY. I'm intrigued by this concept. I read an article in CosmeVogueElleClairemopolitan once that described a young woman who had it all going for her. Hotness, beauty, sex appeal, humour, and such. Men were knocking down her door and she didn't even have time for all the dates she was being asked on! One day she got on her sassy horse, went to the salon, and got a pixie hair cut. Her love life? Gone.

Anyone who has spent an ounce of time Facebook stalking me knows that my head is my canvas. I couldn't help but wonder (thanks Carrie b!), has my head art repelled the men from me? Let's take a journey..shall we?

This is me when I was about 3. As you can see I had a short, blonde hair cut. I enjoyed picking my nose, wearing animal prints, and rockin' large grass skirts. (Sound familiar?) I was a hit with men of all ages at age 3! Legend has it that I was kissed by a boy against a car wearing this leopard bathing suit. I was hot. I couldn't help it.

Fast forward 15 years and you got this...

Yes, this. A giant mop of blonde atop my head. I didn't seem to own a brush, but the boys sure did come a callin'! I'd say the average was about three gentlemen callers every 6 months. Woo! Suck it.

The blonde "wind swept" look wasn't cuttin' it for me back in Catholic school, so I tried a few options. These included:

A dirty, brown mop I found in the family cleaning closet.

And yes, even some blue extensions and a fake nose.

Men count? I'd say about 1/2 a guy every 6 months.

(Uh oh. Are you doing the math??)

In my High School theatre program I was given the award of "Most likely to show up to rehearsal with a different hair color"...and they were right.

Then post-high school life came and I needed a change. I was a woman after all! And what do women do to show they are real woman? That's right. Let's all say it together! They get...

BANGS! Woo!

The bangs proved to be problematic though. Even though I had not cut my hair off (like this "theory" would tell us), the gentlemen callers diminished ASTRONOMICALLY! Uh-oh! What happened? They were just some sassy bangs! What did I do wrong?

In a moment of extreme panic, I knew I had to do something different. After all, I was a woman now. So what does a woman in a panic do? Let's all say it together! She...

GROWS OUT HER BANGS AND DYES HER HAIR BROWN!

NOOOO!! Men count? Still zero. In fact, at this point in my life many an assumed gentlemen caller took the time to tell me that they had decided they would date boys instead from now on. So I would say the man count was at least -3. Uh-oh...what is happening?

Fearing a life of spinsterhood at age 19, I knew that another drastic change was in order. So I tried doing things like..

...wearing wacky head dresses...

...and then I seemed to have lost my brush. When I lost my brush, I found I had more time to play with my make-up. (uh-oh)

My life had become unmanageable.

What was I to do? My man count was at an all-time lifetime low. I was over-accessorizing, missing my lips when I tried to put on lipstick, and wearing blue eye shadow.

Things were tough.

Really. Really. Tough.

I only had one option...

....get a can of spray paint, and go back to blonde.

Maybe this time, the blonde would encourage heterosexual males to flock toward the Madde.

And it did! My man count was up to at least 1 every 3 months. After the slump of the last few years, this was an incredible improvement. I started feeling confidant, sassy, and bold.

In fact, I even started wearing a sassy bun in my hair.

(YOU decide if that is the hand of a gentleman caller. Jealous?)

Things were going swimmingly until I got up on my sassy horse and started getting "creative".

...a silk headband and a stink eye, led to crazy nights of...

...riding vaccums and wearing Yankees caps..

...mismatched patterns and prints, and yes, even a fake crown..

Man count? 3 or 4 a day..by accident, I'm sure.

Life needed to be taken more seriously. So I decided to become an intellectual.

So, I bought some glasses, tried the brown out again, and CUT MY HAIR!

Man count? Doubled! WHAAAT?

You see, as an intellectual I was able to fool my gentlemen callers into thinking that I was "mysterious" and "fascinating"...My short, dark hair made people think that I spent all my time in the library!

I also started wearing sunglasses a lot. This made me even MORE "mysterious"

..I never took them off.....and everyone thought I was such a hipster.

Man count? Doubled after the other double! Whaaat? Short, dark hair was really workin' for me!

Until things went horribly wrong.

No, I didn't get a pumpkin hand (I wish)..

No, in fact, my dark hair had now made me..dark. I spent my evenings carving pumpkins instead of going out on dates.

I needed another change.

And this is what happened.

I turned myself into a blonde baby doll.

And I loved it! Boy, did I love it! I was feeling empowered!

Men hating me for my short hair?

What's a man? I'm fabulous! Get out of my way world! I've got people to hug! Smile parties to attend! I don't need a boyfriend! I just need sunshine!

...I attended smile parties every day!!

...I wore flowers in my hair and scrunched my nose up like a kitten..

....and then I lost my brush again. And things went down hill.

The man count had obviously diminished because I wasn't opening myself up for love. I didn't have time to do that between all of my hair bleaching and bang trim appointments.

I felt low.

So I did this..

Yes, I cut my hair off like Peter Pan.

Man count?

Zero.

I was in Neverland, after all.

...I started wearing only unitards, animal prints, and fake fur. The sunglasses had returned.

...I made out with only stuffed bears.

It was an all-time low.

Over the last few months, there have been vast improvements. Why? My hair is growing.

As it grows, I return to that girl I love the most. It's back to the doll bob, and you know what? Things are effing great.

Gentlemen caller count? Can't tell you that... But it's not zero. So that's fun.

I've started wearing bows, having more smile parties, and giving lots more hugs.

Sounds a lot like this chick...

..Adult Madde still has that bob, wears lots of animal prints, likes to pick her nose, and kiss boys against cars. She can't help it. It's just who she's been since her babyhood.

My conclusion?

It doesn't matter what color or length your hair is. It's your confidence in how you wear it that matters. (Enter music you'd hear on an emotional finale of "Boy Meets World")

That little girl with her bright blonde bob, in her leopard swimsuit...spent her time picking her nose, and her gentlemen caller count was sky-high! She was pushing them up against cars and making their days. So why can't adult Madde be the same? After all, we are the same person.

An open letter to...ADORABLE ANIMALS OF THE INTERNETS!

A lot of people say that the Internet is made up of a lot of things that make me sad, but mostly, the Internet is made up of a lot of animals that make me glad! So today, a letter of gratitude and thanks..an open letter to....THE ADORABLE ANIMALS OF THE INTERNETS!

Dear Adorable Animals of the Internets,

First, thank you. Thank you for always being there for me when I need a smile. Like you, panda on the rocking horse.

When we first locked eyes, there was no doubt in my mind that you were a panda that trulyloved to be on your rocking horse. In a single picture I see your passion for life, bamboo, and sunshine. Panda, you are an inspiration.

No, I didn't forget about you joyful waterfall elephant! How could I? Look at you!

I have met no other elephant on the Internet that has such a JOIE DE VIVRE! But what I love so much about you waterfall elephant is your sex appeal. Yes, I said it..your elephant sex appeal. You're not messing around. You saw an opportunity for you to sit in very good lighting and be underneath a waterfall and you took it! Bravo to you, waterfall elephant. Bravo!

Don't think I don't see you lounging there, baby monkey. I do. And I thank you for making me remember to kick back, relax, pee on myself, and just enjoy life.
What about you, puppy on the bamboo stick! How are you holding yourself up there, little man?
What upper body strength you have for such a little puppy! Your message to me on a day I feel blue? Keep hangin' onto that bamboo! If I, a tiny little pup, can do it..so can you, Madde!

Dolphin kissing the dog..wow. Your love is so beautiful. It's not often that we see such passion in our daily lives. To think, you two are the Romeo and Juliet of the Internet animal kingdom. Many people said in the dolphin pool, "No, Earl..she's just a dog. She's not worth it. Don't give up your dreams for her. What will she give you? A bone? What's that worth to you, EARL!!?!?" But you showed your love. Thank you for giving me the courage to show MY love too.

Wiener dog wearing a giraffe costume: True, you are ironic, but you are a trailblazer! That costume does not look light, nor does it look like it gives you a proper hole to pee out of, but you sacrifice your well-being for the joy of me, a bored little blond girl on the Internets. Thank you.

Chimpanzee Riding on a Segway? Is that really you? I love you SO MUCH! I don't know what it is. Perhaps it's your catchy tuned song, your oiled up segway, or your ill-fitting overalls...Whatever it is, you care about me. You care enough to inspire me to wear a helmet and overalls, to ride my segway even if "that lady" looks surprised! Ooooo! Chimpanzee riding on a segway..I love you. A lot.

Internet animals..you are cute and cuddly, but you also can share a very important inspirational message with the world. Take for instance my dear, dear friend..RICKY, the Special Needs Monkey.

Ricky, we became familiar about a year ago. To be honest, not one day goes by where I don't think of you, you brave little chimp. Being hoisted up to your birthday cake, ready to blow out your monkey candles that look like foam. Carry on bravely, Ricky. You deserve a banana birthday cake, sprinkled in dreams! Thank you for making the Internet a joyful place to creep around and look for pictures of you doing super fun things like eating a birthday cake, or being held in the arms of a scary zoo keeper. You are an inspiration.

Internet, you are a wonderful, inspirational place filled with joyful, thumb-less creatures who make my life a much brighter place! Thank you Adorable Animals that fill the Internets! I heart you. A lot.

Eternal Gratitude,

Me

An open letter to...GUYS WITH VERY LONG BEARDS!!

Ok, people..I've got to get this off my chest. I'm seeing them all around town. It is baffling to me! So this brings me to my open letter of the day to..GUYS WITH VERY LONG BEARDS.

Dear Guys with VERY LONG Beards,

Just one question, why?

Ok, ok, I lied..a few more questions. Now, I understand that a beard on a man can be...liberating, should we say? In fact, beards are very chic right now. But please note that when I speak of chic beards, I am speaking of ones that are tamed and clean..said chic beards do NOT have the capacity to be braided and/or beaded. NOT ok to hang beads from your face. When did this become appropriate? My problem lies in this truth, Guys with VERY long beards...are you actually attempting to make a fashion statement, or are you lazy?

Let me share with you a scenario that I feel is fitting. Here's my first impression of a guy with a very long beard.

Let's say for instance I'm walking down an alleyway. You can hear jazz in the distance. The moon is full and the Lady and the Tramp are sitting at the end of the ally sucking on noodles together. As I walk I see you...man with a very long beard...do you know what I think at this point? I think, "Oh no, this man is going to invite me into the sewage drain that he lives in and try to take advantage of me with his beard. Ugh. Damn it! NOT AGAIN!"

THAT is what I think, guys with very long beards. Now..let's asses WHY I think that? Main reason? Your beard is creepy. Like supey creepy. Like I'm not messing around when I say this..shave that beard off or expect everyone to think you are a creeper. No woman is going to date you with that beard. Nothing says "this is not sexy" as much as you caressing my face in a sexy manner with your beaded beard. True story. Mmmk..happy shaving!

Love,

Me

Heartbreaker? Or Rule breaker?

An incriminating and concerning document was recently discovered with MY name on it. After countless hours of examination, my 5th Grade gym teacher may have hit the nail on the head of Madde.

Please turn your attention to Exhibit A:

(For those of you who use "cheaters" to read..let me save you the eye exercise and spell out the comment for you. It says "Madde doesn't see the value in exercise or fitness-not very inspired to work in PE-- C- ". Above that are many "P's"-Partially Meets Expectations. Clearly, I was an excellent student in 5th Grade.)

This concerning piece of paper proved one thing to me: I have never played by the rules of the game. It's just not my style. You see, in sports and P.E I was more of a "free-spirit"--if you will... a wild horse that was being scolded (and given C-'s!) for running freely and to my own gallop beat. Had they offered ribbon dancing, I surely would have seen the value in fitness...that stuff is inspirational! How convenient that they never mention my choreography routine that I taught my class to the tune of "Achy Breaky Heart"..where's that? Huh? Where's the recognition for those moves? They burned calories too! I was motivated to do that! How is THAT not fitness? Give me some room to work here, porky Catholic School gym teacher!

Alas, this lack of interest in "the rules" has seeped into my adult dating life (whether I like it or not). I should be elegant on a date. I should remember to sit with my legs closed, so my lady bits aren't flying freely in the wind. I should respect his man-hood and not make fun of him constantly. I should follow "the rules". I should do all of these things, and I try to..but I don't always remember, and most of the time..it's really not convenient for me. My grandmother once told me I could do myself a favor if I were to go on a date and just keep my goddamn mouth shut! I've tried that....it just doesn't work out for me. I could talk to wall. I can't help what comes out of my mouth! That's my date version of "free-formin' it!".

My thesis: Rules get in the way of logic. Take for example how "the rules" took me down to Awkwardville, USA recently. Rules would tell us that if he has asked me to hang out, pays for drinks, calls me adorable, and says he likes hanging out with me... that this means he likes me. You have outdated rules, person who agreed with those statements! You should be ashamed. People, these rules have not met the men of 2010! Men of 2010 aren't as simple as blueberry pie, they require a handbook, and this handbook is only written in the language of DUDE! Unless one is a skilled and scholarly lady, there's no crackin' this code! You see, with an outdated Rule Book, ladies, such as myself, will assume that this means that the bachelor in question might dig them. One bold move on her part to move this burgeoning relationship forward and BAM! She's down. She has been hit with the awkward stick. He's not into it. She thinks she has gone LOCO! How could she have gotten it so wrong? She read all the signs? She followed the flow chart in the rule book! Rules told her that he was into her, but LOGIC would have told her that he might not be looking for a relationship that amounts to anything more than friendship.

True, I'm not a rule player, but I do like feeling like a sane and capable young woman. Sanity surely trumps rules, for me. The problem? I'm a girl. I can't help it. Our girlfriends tell us he's into us, our gay boyfriends tell us that they've heard that straight guys mate like that..so that must mean he wants to tap that, our grandmothers tell us "Don't eff this up! Keep your mouth shut and look pretty"..but you know what? none of them are there on the date with you..(I hope).

So what do we do if we don't own the translated version (from Dude language to Lady language) of the "Rule Book"..yes, we can order it from Barnes and Noble and wait for a shipment of the books to come in from Mars in 3-6 months, OR we can use our common sense and logic! As a girl, if I read a situation wrong with a guy and think he's into me and he turns out not to be for whatever reason, I pretty much beat myself up about it for about a week. How could I get this so wrong? I didn't play that move correctly with him! You know what? It's not a chess game! He's a human! I'm a human! We aren't going on all of our dates on a checkered board! We don't have felt on our bottoms! Let's use our common sense. No rules will tell us whether he's into us, HE'LL tell us if he's into us. Our intuition will tell us if he's into us. "I'll know by the 3rd date if he likes me." No you won't. He's not your period, he's not on a guaranteed schedule. (Woah. Sorry. Gross..follow this rule, though: don't talk about that time of month on a date..it's gross..class it up, ladies!)

I never played by the rules in 5th grade, and I'm not going to start now. In 5th grade I could have used my logic though. Don't get a C- in gym, Madde.. that's supposed to be the easy A class. Don't be an ass. So now, I'm using my logic. No more rules or equations about men. He's a man, or a man-baby..not an equation. I'm not going to feel like a crazy lady anymore..time to let my logic take the wheel.

He's Cute vs. He's a Man-Baby

Life is all about illusions. Take for example Las Vegas power couple, Seigfried and Roy. They built their careers on fooling everyone into thinking that their tigers were magical and they could make them disappear. That illusion was broken with Roy got dragged off stage like sausage. Magical tigers, eh? Not so much.

I am finding that the same can be said for men. Take for example a gentleman I recently encountered. On the outside he was smart, handsome but oh-so-cute at the same time (what a combo!), charming, and funny, but in reality he was nothing more than a...MAN-BABY!

What's a man-baby, you ask? A Man-baby can be defined as a male who is deceivingly mature and put together, but in the light of day can only function at the maturity level of a toddler.

He eats, he poo's, he sleeps. Anything past that...is supey hard for the lil' guy. Picking up on the cues of an available and charming young woman? Too hard for the man-baby. Going in for the kiss? Man-babies find this difficult. Realizing that complimenting her is going to make her like you more? Man-Baby doesn't do math! You can't get that through the little man-baby's head. Calling her back? Nope, not on the list of things to do for this man-baby. You know why? Because he is a Man-baby.

Man-babies are everywhere in this world, and women have the unique challenge weeding through them to find the real men. A warning to all eligible young women reading this blog, the illusion of the perfect guy will probably drag YOU off stage like sausage into the green room, which at this venue is doubling as a nursery full of MAN-BABIES! Know your escape route OUT of this Man-Baby nursery, and ensure you have a safe-zone full of your gay best friends to save you from the man-babies that will surely chase after you and fool you into marrying them. Do not marry the man-babies, I repeat, DO NOT MARRY THE MAN-BABIES. In fact, don't even date the man-babies, they will spit up on you and it will be VERY expensive to get that out at the dry cleaners.

So, how do we avoid the man-babies? We don't. We do our best to be the Barbara Walters, investigative journalist, of the dating world, and figure it out as quickly as possible. The man-baby won't show his true colors right away, but as soon as it's naptime...he's going to want his bottle..at this point..RUN! :) You are in the presence of a real live MAN-BABY!

An open letter to...CRAZIES AT THE AIRPORT

As some of you may know, I've just returned from my adventures in the Big Apple. My journey there was long...very long. True, it wasn't like the 90s classic computer game "Oregon Trail," but it did test my strength, agility, and certainly my patience. This brings me to my open letter of the week to....CRAZIES AT THE AIRPORT.

Dear Crazies at the Airport,

Good Morning. First, let me offer you a bit of advice while traveling...CHILL THE bleep OUT! By doing this, dear crazies, it will make our traveling time together a lot easier. Hey Lady who had a mental breakdown curbside check-in line, come over here for a moment and let's have a little chat.

Mmmk..I know you're stressed. I know it's 5 in the morning. You made it very clear that your flight to London was leaving at 7, but seriously? Your behavior was that of a...... crazy person. Yelling at the man at the desk and calling him a liar..is neither going to get you to London or get you into anyone's good graces. Pacing up and down the line asking to cut in front of people? You guessed it! Behavior of a crazy person. Falling on the ground and shaking while you try to text? Ya, I'm going to throw up the crazy person flag on that one too! (Who are you texting at 5 in the morning anyway? Do they know you are crazy?) I'm sorry. If you wanted to get to London on time, you should have spent less time rooting through your closet to find that ridiculous hat you are wearing, and a little MORE time on the road..getting to the airport on time. I would hug you, but you might yell/bite/eat me. So I'm going to say ChEERIO! instead. Happy flying, crazy lady.

Also, the people standing in the security line. I know the airport is a stressful place and you are tired, but if you've flown before, or heck! even read a newspaper, you know you can't bring that giant Mountain Dew on the plane...seriously? Also, fighting with the security people about how you NEED your Dew on the flight, is bringing no joy to this situation, or to anyone in the line behind you. Do the Dew PAST the security check-point, friend, and scurry along through the metal detector so I can unload my liquids into a ziploc bag.

Finally, flight attendants. Why must you be so grumpy at 6 am? Surely you've been up for quite some time, as your hair is gelled to perfection, and your acrylic nails are glued on tight. I'm stunned by your lack of a smile as I board the air craft. It does not give me much confidence in my safety if you don't care about me. When we are about to take off, I wonder...is it company policy to tell the girl on her cellphone to "F@#$ off"? Also, when we are stranded on the runway in the middle of WhoVille, due to an emergency landing..could I trouble you for some water to calm my nerves and wet my whistle? No? Mmmk. That's fine.

In conclusion, Crazies of the Airport. Let's take a chill pill and get off the grumpy train. It will make our lives a lot happier as we travel.

Love,

Me

Ummmm...is this a date thingy? Should I have showered?

Firstly..So, let’s talk about the pink elephant in the room. I haven’t written a blog in a month.

Sorry. My bad, I’ve been super busy doing…umm…well…I was..umm…doing…nothing. I wasn’t doing anything. I don’t have an excuse. I got grumpy after my February holiday posts, and subsequently lost the passion for the blog..it’s back though. The passion is back. I promise.

Mmmmk..now that that’s out of the way. Let’s do a little roleplay, shall we? Grab a friend. Stretch out. Facial stretches too! Raisin!!!! SUNNNN!!!! Raisin!!! SUUUUN!

You can do shake-outs too if you’d like. Mmmk..ready? Great. Dance belts on? Even better.

(The scene: a street corner)

Boy: Hey, Girl!

Girl: Hey, Boy!

Boy: So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?

Girl: Sure! Where?

Boy: Meet you at the movie theater?

Girl: Great!

If you’re a lady, one thought comes to your mind…What eff does that mean? We’ve all been there, and we all know that the entire evening after that vague invitation is spent on the phone with our girlfriends and gays dissecting the invitation. How did he say it? If he said it in a low voice, he hates you. High voice? He’s probs likes boys. Did he smile? Did he smile too much? Too much of a smile? Don’t trust him..he’s a human version of the Cheshire Cat. Did he touch your arm? I hope he didn’t touch you too much. He’s a creeper if he touched you too much. Did he poop by accident when he asked you out? Because if so, he needs a diaper. So make sure you have one in your purse for him when you pick him up at the nursing home. And finally, DID HE JUST ASK YOU OUT ON A…DATE?

The question inevitably arises, what constitutes A DATE? Having gone to all-girls school my whole life, I lost touch with the meaning (or perhaps never even learned) of a “date”. You see any interaction with a boy outside the lady bin, could technically be considered a date. When I first got to college my distraction level SKYROCKETED! Who are these creatures that walk among us? I can tell you what they are…they are dudes.

In my adulthood I search for the answer. Are we hanging out as FRIENDS? Are we going out on a DATSIES? And if so, what the eff constitutes a “date”? The 80s classic When Harry Met Sally, will tell you that men can never be friends with a woman, but I think I may disagree. Women’s magazines will tell you many things.

General rules say..It’s a date if he…

1. Pays

2. Picks you up in his wheels.

3. Touches you while he talks.

4. If his face is on your face..this is called a kiss..and it means you're on date...or he tripped.

Well here are my problems with those things.

1. I have a job (well I did, before I quit..woops!). I am 21. If he is living BELOW the poverty level like me, he shouldn’t have to pay for me. That’s very presumptuous. If he does pay, that's a major plus! With that said..It's not a dealbreaker all the time.
2. Picks me up in his wheels? I just worked really hard to buy myself a car all by myself…I want to drive it. Also, I live in a ‘hood that no one knows how to navigate. What if he doesn’t know how to use mapquest? I like to drive. I also run late. What if I’m running late, I don’t want him being awkward and waiting for me in his car. That’s awkward. I once had a gentleman caller that would pick me up. I made him wait downstairs a lot. Subsequently, it led to a conversation between my Nanna and I about how I was "being mean to that young boy downstairs, and if I wanted him to like me..I would have to step up my game". If I had driven? We wouldn't have ever had that uncomfortable conversation.
3. Mmmk..I have no boundaries. I touch EVERYONE..ALL THE TIME. I can't help it. The problem is, if I like you..I over analyze my touch. It's weird. I'm weird. Get over it and just hold my hand if you're a dude and you like The Madde. It will take the absurd stress off of me thinking all the time, "woops..I accidently touched him..damn my inappropriate boundaries!"
4. Ok. I’ll get on board with this one. If his mouth is on my face..he either tripped, or he like’s him a little Madde up in there. Woot! Woot! (gross.i'm sorry)

Women's magazines, 80s movies, all-girls school, and self-analyzing aside...to me, a date is with someone you really dig. I don't know if we have to use the word "date" to make it official, or if we even HAVE to make it "official", but at the end of the day, if the person digs you and you dig them..it doesn't matter whether we have called it a "date" or called it a "let's go for a walk down the street"..you'll know. I hope. Til then let's stop the over-thinking, let's chill the eff out, and just have fun!

Buuuutttt..if someone actually can give me a definition of a date..I'm willing to listen. If you are that smarty person, please write a book and give me a copy. I own a highlighter and promise to read it cover-to-cover.