Dating Douchebags in Dallas

•August 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

It’s like someone grabbed up all the boring, delusional less than mediocre guys and stuck them in Dallas.

I’m tired!!! I’ve had my share of long-term monogamous relationships, but I’ve been wholly single for the last 8 months. By wholly I mean at most non-monogamous dating. Woop woop.

This new blog will outline the trials, tribulations and perhaps a success or two of a non-typical Dallas girl and her dating misadventures. Moreover, the idiots and the ridiculous crap I get myself into.

We’ll start it with a past date. Fade to black.

Where the Wild Things Aren’t

It started off with a fun bout of of racquetball at the gym. Two acquaintances getting to know each other by batting a ball around at ridiculous speeds. A fun romp into fitness. After 2 hours, and sweat beading on my brow (well where WASN’T it beading) my then acquaintance asked me to dinner. At first thought I agreed, thinking this a casual rendezvous with separate checks. Some people enjoy the company of another during meals. My main desire in eating is to hoover something relatively delicious from my plate, the glass, the table corner or trashcan into my mouth. Aw, but putting aside my bestial whims should be good for me. I soon heard the dreaded words “date.” IT’S A TRAP!

Red flag #1- From dinner to “If I buy you dinner then it’s a date.” > ignorance based apology from me>>> bouncer reducing cover to $5>>> date still not sold >>> stomach had started eating my intestines >>> “Aaaaagh! Fuck it, let’s go somewhere else,” I bleat out. I turn around flabbergasted, craving a cigarette. 2nd day of quitting was a bitch. I make a beeline for the Indian food place which has JUST closed. Past it is a Chilis. Generic as all hell but at this point he will feed me, so help me god, or I will feast on his flesh!

Once seated with appetizer and an order placed, I begin to calm. Tom stares. I tell him a little about myself. I tell him a LOT about myself. I look over. Tom seems amused but he says nothing. I begin to play with my salad. I ask Tom to tell me something beautiful. He gets confused. I ask Tom what his favorite animal is. He says lion. I ask why? Tom doesn’t know why. I ask him what’s a cool thing that’s happened to him ever. He says he toured with Korn. I get an excited feeling that this new topic may pique a response from him. “What was your favorite memory or was it all a blur?” “The whole experience.” I ask about groupies and when he replies with “There really weren’t any,” my hope goes crashing upon a rock. I look down at my plate gripped in my pale hand. Fork tensed in the other. My salad has been torn to shreds. I remember the look of duty mixed with concern on the waiter’s face as he attempted to take it away. As I relinquished my security salad I came to the abrupt realization of impending doom. No longer did I have a salad to destroy. After my fingers, what would come next? the table, my date, MYSELF?!

I pretended to get a text. I stammered out a thank you for dinner, my friend is lonely, I hafta go meet him and hastily left the still silent table and the If-you’ve-been-to-one-you’ve-been-to-them-all. I drove 20 minutes away to meet my band of nerds. They consist of new roomie Alan and his boss/friends Judd and John. These three like to hang out at the Fox and the Hound. It’s close to work and has bitches. That’s all I need to hear.

I arrived at the Fox and the Hound and much to my dismay I see my date exiting his vehicle. I look around. Maybe I didn’t ever really leave Chilis. Maybe I’ve lost my mind… and wait…. NOPE. This is in fact the Fox and the Hound, but the hunt at this juncture was over. I’m confused but the sanctuary of friends and alcohol calls to me. I enter. Tom follows. I introduce Tom to the guys. he stands and laughs as we recount stories of mirth, madness and martini, but ne’re says a word. He is obviously having a good time. He’s obviously amused. He doesn’t act nervous. He just doesn’t say ANYTHING. At this point I’ve begun drinking. Drinking isn’t working though. I start to imagine Tom as a figment, an illusion, a shadow. My imagination amuses me for a bit, but soon dwindles and I decide to turn to one of my best and favorite friends for advice. Rumpelminze.

Now for an ad from our sponsors. When life gets you down enjoy the minty freshness of Rumpel. Her warm curves will wrap around you and make you feel better about anyone or anything. She will quite literally love you to death.

Needless to say Tom finished the night by himself and my dirty mistress Rumpel and I shared a bed.

Moral of the story: If you’re too shy to speak to someone, perhaps you should cut out your tongue.

Thank you and goodnight.

Why Relationshits are Antiquated and Itchy… or Good for you?

•August 21, 2010 • 1 Comment

Before you read this and go “oh she’s lonely and jaded” well duh! I am writing a second part to this entitled “Why a relationship is healthy for your bowels” so chill out.
1.Back in the day we were jellies, then monkeys, then whatnot and whathaveyou. Ever wonder why women were made with this perfect hole and men were made with this stick-like thing that fits well into said hole? We were built a looong time ago to procreate, i.e. screw like rabbits and carry on the species. Given this was when we didn’t have modern technologies but it’s still etched into our genetic structure.

The human male has a drive to impregnate as many females as possible, to create as many offspring with his genes as possible. (Ehrlichman & Eichenstein, 1992) We look for certain traits that are vastly different from ours. The whole opposites attract thing. Why? Because it creates a stronger offspring with a higher survival rate in this machine addled world. We choose someone that looks healthy, not is, (I can attest to this). In general men will go after women with larger hips; Child baring hips. Note image number one for a representation of an early “Earth Mother.”

The point of all this being, you may be with a sack of crap or potatoes that tricks your body into producing Dopamine, norepinephrine, and oxytocin: the self produced, but hardly self contained “love drugs.” So basically some defunct inbred built in survival system is controlling YOUR MIIIIND!

2. As of 2008, it is estimated that 40% of marriages end in divorce. If the sanctity is removed, what’s the point of this slip of paper? SERIOUSLY!?

Quick fact: The history of divorce is essentially the story of the progressive rejection of Catholic marriage doctrine. (Roderick Phillips, Putting Asunder) That’s funny. The destruction of the union is based on religion as is the original union. Are you getting married because god wants you to or because YOU want to?

Funny fact: I went to the Episcopal Church of the Holy Nativity. Father Biegler was awesome! His wife was a royal bitch. (By royal and mean: never smiled, always talked down to the children, just embittered in general) They seemed ok , but what does a 12 year old know about ok? I left the church around the age of 15. I figured I could pray in my own head if I needed to and argued this point rightly to my parents. Found out a few years ago that Father Biegler had himself a little affair with a young blond thing, ran off and got divorced then got married. He’s now free and happy in Florida, I believe. GOOD. FOR. HIM.

Why all this talk about marriage?

This brings me to point number 3: Why be with someone if it’s not going to last?

Dating = marriage try-out. Marriage = divorce try-out. Nuff said.

Numero Quatro- We are born whole and do not lose a portion of ourselves into the ether, only to find it years later in some “perfect” creature of the opposite (or same) sex.

On a final note: While I am bitter and jaded, but only in small fragments, I respect the sanctity that some have in marriage, while I may eternally (or perhaps I can be dissuaded by a clever commenter) disagree with it, it’s cool if you like it as long as you know why you do.

Can they be good?

Hopefully:

1. Fewer to no STDs from hopefully being monogamous. :-D WIN.
2. Someone to wake up next to and has the cuddles.

3.Someone to share EVERYTHING with, your name, your drool pillow, your dreams.

4. Babies, a little one that looks like the two of you. WIN.
5. Companionship (much like a dog). Quick fact: Petting an animal at least once a day may lower stress and bp levels.
6. Forever having someone to change your tire.
7. An evolution of you? You squared + 1?
8. Fodder for your soul.
9. A tax cut and super awesome military income bonus!! Double WIN!

10. Someone to cook for and love forever. Something warm in the cold, something with ice in the Summer.

11. Someone to help you remember that ONE thing, without using google.

12. Someone that makes you feel fuzzy and kisses you everywhere, even if you are.

Don’t take it too far:

No:
1.Popping each others pimples. Fracknasty!
2. Thinking of yourself as a singular entity. There are two of you.

Whatever your choice, the timing, your level of maturity, his level of care, WHATEVER. Love is lovely.

I may get arrested this weekend.

•July 9, 2010 • 2 Comments

As I sit here and dream of Marley but listen to Paula Cole’s Feelin Love (yes I’m in that place right now) I ponder what I’m doing sitting on my ass on my one day off this week. Aside from being sick and thinking about a stupid boy, pretty much nothing. I’ve spent more than enough me time playing videogames or watching movies or drinking. This weekend is for something much more.

Texas isn’t the home of the liberals. We’ll never be known for being too loose with our stance. Regardless of this, tomorrow afternoon almost xenocide will be thrown to the wayside, hate will rise up and attempt some pretty serious pollution of our badass state. What’s the best way to stop hate? Well, if you know me, I’m not much for blatant kindness. Why not comedy then?

What is this hate and ignorance I speak of? heard of the Westboro Baptist Church out of Topeka?  For those that don’t know Westboro, led by Reverend Phelps, are an independent Baptist church with very strong beliefs about anti-homosexuality. Matthew Shepard died in October of 98, beaten to death at the young age of 21 because he preferred men over women. Shortly thereafter, Phelps and followers picketed his funeral. They’ve picketed over 50,000 times and with a website called http://www.godhatesfags.com, you can only imagine what the signs look like. Phelps and his crew are what you would call extremists. Christians, not even Baptists will claim them. They act on their own, spending an estimated $250,000 on picketing per year. For more information: http://www.adl.org/learn/ext_us/WBC/default.asp?LEARN_Cat=Extremism&LEARN_SubCat=Extremism_in_America&xpicked=3&item=WBC

Starting tomorrrow at 2pm Phelps and his cavalcade will come to our hometown, to Dallas/ Ft. Worth. They are picketing not only a Gay and Lesbian Center, they will be throwing their hate at Holocaust Museums, and Jewish schools, then on Sunday, they are moving to OUR churches. I am angry. I for one will not stand by and let them pervert Christianity with their hate. I will not let them abuse their freedom of speech. They have done much harm with their hate and it is beyond intolerable. I may get arrested, but I’m a known hothead. I’m really just aiming to be punched in the face. The more violence Phelps crew is drawn into, the more likely we will be able to ban their hateful brand of picketing. Despite my MO, this anti-protest has a much lighter theme. ^_^

#Killemwithcomedy

As with everything else, the coolness begins in San Francisco http://laughingsquid.com/san-franciscos-answer-to-westboro-baptist-church/

Activists and friends have spend the last week at sign making parties at home, Lee Harvey’s and many other places. Signs that read God Hates Juice, or God hates Hats. (We all know god hates hats AND kittens wearing them) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LNv76e5OKY (thanks Bei)

If you’re free tomorrow, Friday the 9th from 2:30p-6:45p or this Sunday, the 11th from 9am-11am, bring your voice and your resolve. We could use your help! ^_^

Picketing schedule:

Friday:
- 07/09/2010 2:15 PM – 2:45 PM Dallas, TX Dallas Holocaust Museum 211 North Record Street, Suite 100
- 07/09/2010 3:00 PM – 3:30 PM Dallas, TX Jewish Community Center of Dallas 7900 Northaven Road
- 07/09/2010 3:45 PM – 4:15 PM Dallas, TX Texas Jewish Post 7920 Belt Line Road, Suite 680
- 07/09/2010 4:30 PM – 5:00 PM Dallas, TX Yavneh Academy of Dallas 12324 Merit Drive
- 07/09/2010 6:15 PM – 6:45 PM Dallas, TX Congregation Beth el Binah at the Gay & Lesbian Center 2701 Reagan Street

Saturday:

The Meat to the Sammich!!!

Lodge Dallas Annual Stars and Stripes Charity Carwash                       12pm-6pm at the Lodge Dallas- 10530 Spangler Rd. Dallas, TX 75220

Sunday:
- 07/11/2010 08:30 AM – 09:00 AM Dallas, TX Chabad of Dallas 6710 Levelland Road
- 07/11/2010 09:00 AM – 09:30 AM Arlington, TX Fielder Road Baptist Church 1323 West Pioneer Parkway
- 07/11/2010 09:45 AM – 10:30 AM Dallas, TX Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadelupe 2215 Ross Avenue
- 07/11/2010 10:45 AM – 11:30 AM Arlington, TX Most Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church 2100 North Davis Drive

Now sandwiched between  these two events is a delightful breather in the form of a carwash. The Lodge Dallas is helping dirty boys *errr, uhmm* cars get clean THIS Saturday from 12pm-6pm! Puppies for Puppies!

The sexy dancers and servers (me, me) will be hosing down your dirrrty cars and motorcycles. The price is only $20 and all of the proceeds will go to benefit the Metroplex Animal Coalition. Last year they raised over 160k!The event is family and pet friendly.

~Raffle tickets to win FREE VIP (worth $750), $500 in Bear Bucks (Lodge funny money) for dances, etc, cash prizes, giftcards to local businesses, the works, you name it ;-)

~Dunk-a-dancer

~Pet Psychics

~Misters- ’cause you just can’t beat this heat

Notes to Notes

•December 29, 2009 • 1 Comment

I’ve been asked to write by about 20 people in the last month (keep in mind I wrote this quasi intoxicated at a bar hahahaha, but yah) and so here I go:

All of you is so fucking beautiful. Nothing like the rest… Hah so fucking real and pseudo psychological, always I can only guess. All I have is one night, not even a full moon of fucking bliss. Half bliss, half moon, empty you. Full me. It matters not. I loathe the fucking passion in you. Redirect it towards me. I can cleanse you. I’m oh so
fresh and oh so clean clean. (heehee Outkast throwback)

So the flowers have all been cut. Twigs snapped,  bent in a broken
way, under our heavy souls. Have I possessed your mind, if not your
body?! Will you crave me to hold. I will blaspheme no white, but wear it proudly, I will. You cleanse my wicked past and stay yourself for the rocky overhang hastily approaches. Must you seek me? Please! Seek me in
the earth… where you have all but buried me.

Skin swells. Gasping. Breathing is unnecessary now. You steel me.
Every sigh you take towards me comforts and drives me wild. Dualities
aside, you are him, the eternal gentle man. I want your passion, I
crave your calm, you disorient me in the best way… Your touch
intoxicates as you put me off, on. Give all you have, whatever,
however scaled and trapped, however false, I will cherish you. If only
you’d wholly cherish me. A wish that only my condition could call. Haunt me no longer.

Hahaha perhaps I need a penname for all this romantical rubbish. I’ll call myself Tara York. lulz.

Damn you Dad!

•August 17, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Damn you…

for escaping one final time.
for leaving me half of a whole woman.
for teaching me all the wrong ways to love.
for telling me that I was just like you.
for stabbing your plants to death.
for nourishing my insanity.
for leaving all of the once-strong women in your life.
for your incessant amounts of starbucks.
for being afraid of life.
for FINALLY wanting to live AFTER the cancer had already spread.
for our Michael Jordan Xmas.
never telling me the truth.
for leaving me a legacy of debt and antiques! YOU HATE ANTIQUES!
for caring in your own way.
for making me love you.

for all the pizza.

I miss you and will one day find the tree you’re hiding in you stupidhead.

Tired. Just. Plain. Tired.

•July 7, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Tired. Just. Plain. Tired. Kitchen creaking noises do little to assuage this brewing feeling of doom. Maybe doom is a strong word. Maybe it’s not brewing, it’s been brewed…. much like the yeast lady brews her “own” beer. Sickness in a new form. Mind virus. Always a breath away from goodbye. Ever fleeting, ever present. Going, going. GONE. Recalling memories of past failures, I find it ironic that what I see as failures others view as successes. MY father is dying. This will not be considered a success, despite the times I wished a swift demiseupon him for his own sake. It will not be swift. Stubborn nature is hereditary. I hope my inability to budge bears fruit, whereas my father’s has manifested a grapefruit size tumor. He calls me every few days. I can’t bear to listen to his hoarse rattle. 777. 666. Voice of a stock teller, now only toxic air escapes his lungs. La bare to leper. Salesman to sold.

I feel so empty right now. It should feel nice, like a clean slate. There’s an air of pessimism reaching up, welling up. It does not allow me to start anew. Perhaps, I don’t allow myself. There really is no perhaps about it. I do NOT. I canNOT. Incap or inability….? I remember being 15 and spending the week at my friend Kristin’s house. I couldn’t stand my mother at the time and had to escape. Cocktail of pills. Every night. If I didn’t take my 2400 mg of Seroquil I couldn’t sleep. Being the creature of the night that I am, one night I didn’t take  them. One night may be an understatement. Kohl eyes bright, I stole away into the night in ragged clothing to stir up havoc. I played in the night breeze. No sleep for the wicked. I called it the Seroquil buzz. If you ever “forgot” to take your meds the next day you started shaking, lack of sleep kicking in, the symptoms mimic withdrawls. I feel like I am having the Seroquil buzz. I feel like I’m having withdrawls.I’ve been off the meds since I was 18 years old…. what gives?

I’ve never been dumped but I am terrifed of someone leaving me. Scared shitless. Actually thinking about it now, gives me heartburn. My mother left my father when I was 15, but my father had left long before then. The divorce wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary and the only possible choice. Why then, do I have this ill-deserved fear? I’m not afraid to be alone.  I’m not afraid of dating.  What the hell is the issue then? For all my talk of self-preservation it’s nothing more than a fucking facade. Just thought of something. Middle school. Went to three of em. Armstrong 6th-7th. Grew 4 inches, lost my baby fat, made a LOT of friends with the “popular kids”. HAH! I pushed people away with my personality, my “bi-polar”, so at the end of 6th grade friendless and miserable, I begged my parents to let me switch schools. Done and done. 12 years old and I’ve already started running. So what now…? When you realize your tendencies are starting to hurt yourself and others, how long do you wait to change… immediately, one day, a week, an eternity? Can you? Change, that is.

Sleep not wicked, lest you rouse the righteous with your dreams of power. There once was girl who got down on her knees and begged him to stay with greatest of ease. He scoffed in her face, she relished the taste.

As soon as he came he left.

Familial Preconceptions and the Ubermensch

•May 18, 2009 • 2 Comments

Does passion really exist? Or is it fabricated: neurons firing? Must everything be as simple/complex as a bodily reaction?  If you know me at all, you know me. I am loud, I’m irreverent, I like dresses. I want to be an actor. Even though I’m not in fucking LA I can still call myself that. I have been paid to act. It’s sad that is the only specification in my mind right now. But I want the title so badly. I’ve always wanted to be an actress, since I was a little child.  Even when I found out it was incredibly difficult, what with all the other wannabes and the fact that I live in Texas, I still craved it with every fiber of my being. As an afterthought, maybe, I do want to be known. I want to be remembered. That’s my greatest fear: someone or everyone forgetting I ever existed. Life is fleeting and ever-changing. Shit happens that you in no way, shape or form can ever account for.

On Friday night it was my uncle’s birthday. My uncle, Randy, and my aunt went out, had a nice dinner and thwn went out to Clicks in Richardson to have a few birthday drinks. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Having someone to love you and celebrate the day you were born.  My cousin works at Clicks so even though he was working he got to spend time with his ‘parents.’ (Neil, my cousin is my Aunt, Aunnie Alice’s son, he was adopted by my uncle) He served them drinks. As the story goes, something upset my aunt and she wanted to leave. So Randy and her got into the car and started  back toward home . My aunt was angry and I guess driving irratically so my uncle told her to stop. She wouldn’t let him drive , so he got out and walked home. When he got home at 2 am, the day of his birthday he found his wife of over 20 years in a pool of her own blood. She’d shot herself. She is alive, currently in ICU. She was aiming for her heart, but missed. Or did she? Cry for help? What can anyone else do? What can I do? The answer is this: nothing. Absolutely fuck-nothing and it’s the most fucking loathsome thing in the world sitting around watching someone you care about or even love destroy themselves and their family and you are helpless to stop them.

I love my aunt, she’s loud and sometimes obnoxious, but then again so am I. She’s family. Regardless of who they started out as or what they are now, I love my family. I hope that she finds peace in life instead of death. I hope somewhere, a doctor puts her on the right cocktail and does everything he can to help her, but in the end it is solely up to her, and I hope she chooses life. No matter how shitty it gets, there are those brief moments of happiness, of content that are well worth all the crap. If you can’t live for yourself, live for someone that will always adore you, despite your faults.

My family doesn’t always get along.  They fight over who has the responsibility of my Nana. We all want it, but she doesn’t always ask for help. My father and my aunt and uncle almost got into a fistfight over gun control laws on the eve of my dance recital when I was seven. Sounds so silly now.My aunt can’t reduce a recipe so she makes more than she needs, but she gets the BEST stocking stuffers. My father can’t take care of himself or truly care about anyone but himself, but I like the way he smiles when he beats me at backgammon. My mother can’t figure out anything to do with her computer or her tv, but she loves me. My Nana and Gumpa can do no wrong, as I could do no wrong for them. My uncle is a bear, a towering lumberjack of a man with a gentle soul, my aunt the very fire that completes him. My Nana once told me that she’d always wanted to see me with a blond haired, blue-eyed grandson, a child that resembled her husband. A child to remember him, now that he’s gone. For some reason this clicked into my mind and as a young adult, that’s who I dated. Ridiculous. The prejudice has passed, for the most part. The genes the body requires are so recessive and I have none of them, well 1/8th in me, less then that in chance.

Recession is a funny word. They say we’re in an economic recession. I think that we’re in a passion recession.  You know that feeling you get when you like someone, finding it hard to breathe, desperately wanting to be near them them, to touch every inch of them. When you finally get the chance it overcomes you, overwhelms you,  you literally melt into them. We need that passion in life.

My final note: Challenge yourself today. Fight for a reson worth living in this ‘cruel’ world. Fight for someone you love, fight the good fight. Whatever it may be, push all weakness from your psyche and be god-like, if only for the moment. I expect Ares and Athena today my friends.

 
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