“I quit my job last week because I won the Lottery. You have to go out with me now.“

“No, it’s not about the money.”

“Then what is it about and how can I get you to go out with me?”

“I’m not sure how to explain what it’s about but if I figure it out I will let you know.”

I was informally dating “Boat Boy” and at the last minute he came over one night. We climbed into bed and as I was drifting off to sleep, my body was relaxing and I heard, and felt, my body release GAS! Yes I FARTED! Oh My GOD! I was now wide awake and praying he was asleep but I don’t think he was. I think he heard it and I was devastated! I imagined what might be going through his head and he was probably trying to keep from laughing. I finally drifted off to sleep… fartless.

In the middle of the night I woke up and had to go to the bathroom. I climbed back into bed and again was drifting off to sleep when it happened again. I do believe this one was louder, but this time I was more confident he was asleep. Oddly enough, when I said good-bye to him in the morning it would be the last time I saw him. (No great loss there… that’s another story for another time)

Personally, I find this topic quite amusing except when I’m the farter or have to smell a really wretched one. For example… one day I was on the elevator to the third floor and the elevator stopped on the second floor to let an older gentleman off. He stopped just outside the doors and farted just before the doors closed on me.

My ex husband would always lift his leg when farting. I guess this assisted in getting it out. I just never understood why he always lifted the leg closest to me. I have a girlfriend who has the same complaint with a current boyfriend of hers. What is this? She says her boyfriend really enjoys his farts and loves to show them off in various ways. She has gone so far as to leave their bed for the guest room because the stench just won’t go away.

Not to long ago I had to go in for a colonoscopy. Oh happy happy joy joy. As they were wheeling me out into recovery all I heard were farts “pffft”, “pffft”, “whoomp”. I called it “The Farting Room”. They told me I needed to pass gas to be discharged (hee hee that was punny). So I quietly passed gas and told them so and yet I stayed right where I was. Another patient was brought in and put across the room. All the staff was with that patient when I passed again and everyone heard it. With that the nurse walked over and said I could go. I guess they needed to hear it. When I walked out my Mom said I was the most lucid person to walk out of there. I told her that was because I was too embarrassed to fart out loud so it took me longer and delayed my release (hee hee punny again) therefore the sedation had worn off.

Original Post: September 8, 2005

This repost is dedicated to Jen. I love ya Sistah!!!

It struck a bit of a chord in me because I like it. I got to thinking about this, so-called, term of endearment and started to search my brain as to why I liked it.

Last year I started dating this guy and he called me “Babe” but quickly asked, “Do you mind that I call you Babe? Does it offend you?” It didn’t offend me and was a bit of a turn on actually. I never quite got to the point of calling him “Babe” or any nickname for that matter. The whole thing didn’t last that long anyhow.

I’m a bit surprised that I like this term since I have such issues with names. I don’t like to say my ex-husbands name because I feel it validates his existence. Friends have laughed and foretold of a date’s demise by my prematurely nicknaming him.

Friend: “Any dates this weekend?”
Me: “Yeah with The Cowboy.”
Friend: “You already nicknamed him. He’s doomed.”

I guess a nickname is different from a term of endearment, but then that would beg the question: What are the terms in which a person would use a term of endearment with you? How well should you know a person?

I did a Google search to see what others said or thought…

This turned up some interesting conversations out there:

On Yahoo:
     “…But I would not suggest that you try to get back at them by calling them “babe” because that term almost has a sexual connotation. It is a term of very familiar relationship…”

     “There’s a guy at work who calls me “Darlin” but it doesn’t bother me… Then again, if he was a guy I thought was creepy than it probably would though. It all depends on the situation and the person to whom you’re giving a “pet name”. Some people don’t appreciate names like that in any form.”

     “Never call a woman “babe” unless you’re enjoying an intimate relationship with her. “Babe” has some strong sexual connotations, so its use is best left to bedroom scenarious. Just call a woman by her name. People love to hear their names far more than they like to hear any “terms of endearment”.”

On Chinese Democracy:
     “I don’t like it. I never call people it and I don’t like being called it. I just call people by their names, if I’m in a relationship I may call them ‘Lamb Chop’ or ‘Sugar Tits’ for a joke once in a while but that’s it.”

Then there was even more on Yelp:

Reading these conversations revealed a lot to me starting with the point that “Babe” is familiarity of a sexual nature. Not liking that term if the person delivering it is creepy or unwanted is a case where it can be offensive. Those, I think, are key points that some don’t get because they are the creepy and unwanted.

Just the other day I was IMing with two different dudes on Match and both called me “Sexy”. WTF? You don’t know me well enough to call me “Sexy”! Yes I am, but all you know is my profile and that ain’t much. One asked me if I preferred “Cutie” or “Sexy” and I told him he could use cutie until he knew me better. That’s if he got the chance to know me better but I felt I needed to set him straight yet I still felt “Cutie” was condescending… From him.

“Sugar”, “Honey”, “Sweetie” or “Dear” are words women tend to use. You won’t hear many men throwing those terms around. When a younger woman calls me by one of those names I wanna just slap her because it seems so forced as if she is trying to put herself in a position of Alpha female over me. Then there are cases when an older endearing woman uses it and its fine with me. I’ve found myself using “Sweetie” with smaller children and even stopped for a minute to think about it but it was just so natural and that was only with small children… Not even teenagers.

I’d have to say… If you are going to use a term of endearment to a stranger or any of the mentioned above you best be confident in using it otherwise offense will be taken. For me to be called “Babe” in the right situation, such as the text message I first mentioned, could end in a wonderful result… for me… and possibly him.

Anyhow… I was out to lunch with some co-workers today at Chili’s in Reston.  I noticed this guy who looked familiar but I wasn’t sure why.  Remember my last post about the bad memory? Suddenly his Match photo popped into my head. 

At least VHMPrincess knew what I was talking about when I told her I was having a Match Moment.

Squirrely Gurl says:

I was thinking of anything a guy could say that would be better than silence. (This is obviously a work- in progress.)

I am SOOO in!

I have had A LOT of bad dates but the one that immediately came to mind was The Cowboy but I haven’t even written about him.  I think that may have been the date that finally got me blogging cause everyone loved the story.  I repeated that story so many times and I think it was Trish begging me to start writing for fear of ever missing one of these stories.

Ra’s favorite story was about Chubby and she and her hubby tell it better than I at this point because there are pieces of that one that I tend to forget (*shutter*).  The jist of it is this dude I was hanging out with, not dating, came over to my place one day.  He walked in the door, went over to the couch, pulled down his pants, sat down and said, “Com’on Baby… Hop on my Chubby!”

I had not hooked up with this dude AT ALL and suddenly he’s sitting penis out on my couch.  WTF?!?

I have always retained a certain amount of decorum in dealing with some of these dudes.  I nicely end the date and get away because there is no sense in being mean.

This case was different.  I held the door open and said, “GET THE FUCK OUT!!!“

So when Ra told this story to her Hubby-To-Be he sent me a gift.  He saw it in the store right after hearing about Chubby and from what I hear he started cracking up right then and there.

He sent me one of these:

…and it was the Cream Soda one.

So while Chubby might be a contender for the “Worst Date Ever” there are still some other bad ones that I’ve previously posted.  I can only submit one for the contest and I just don’t know which to choose. 

Here are my contenders:

• The Latin Match
• Gingivitis Kiss
• So I Tried Speed Dating
• I Mean Really… What Are They Thinking?
• Valentine’s Day and the Dude Review

Which one do I submit?

Last weekend Shortie came with me down to the O.C. I feared Shortie would be disappointed since we would be hitting happy hour and I would probably be asleep by 9 or 10pm.

My weekends consist of having a few drinks, sleep, get up early walk the boards, sleep, beach time, sleep, happy hour, sleep. So I think you get the point. At the beach Red gets some serious relax/sleep time.

After last weekend I’ve been unable to catch up on my sleep since Shortie and I ended up closing the bars both Friday and Saturday night.

Shortie and I arrived and immediately went over to Macky’s to try and grab a table for when Mom and Dad joined us. I ordered Da Bucket of Orange Crush figuring Shortie would not be able to taste the alcohol.  She rarely drinks and when she does its usually because it doesn’t taste like alcohol. Da Bucket grabbed the attention of the table of guys next to us and so the dialogue began.

The Folks joined us but only stayed for a few drinks before Shortie and I ordered our second Bucket. As soon as they left we were pulled into this group of guys and quite literally because they picked up our table and brought it over to theirs.

We had fun hanging with them at Mackey’s and soon they were off to Fager’s Island and asked us to go too. Shortie and I agreed we needed to clean up first since we had no make up on and were in our crappy driving clothes.

I had never been to Fager’s Island and didn’t know what to expect but it was like walking through a jungle to get to the front door. I was surprised to find it had an older crowd but that changed later in the evening. First thing was first and I ordered Shortie and I each an Orange Crush to keep the alcohol flowing in our systems. We hadn’t walked five feet before we bumped into the guys. The first thing they noticed was my glass was nearly empty (yes, already). Shortie piped up and said, “Why haven’t any of you bought her another one yet?“

Before I knew it I had another Orange Crush in my hand and then the night really got started. There was more alcohol and things got a little fuzzy. With that much alcohol we couldn’t help but shake our groove thing. I don’t know how long we were out on that dance floor but it was a great workout.

Before we knew it the bar was closing and it seems I’ve been doing a lot of that lately after a recent conference in Orlando. I thought for sure I was too old for this but this old chick was kickin it.

Saturday brought the hangover, time on the wave runner and sleeping on the beach. We were ready by 5 and headed to Fish Tales to meet up with WW, his girlfriend and her two daughters. They lasted til about 8 before the girls were done and they scooted them back to the hotel.

So we headed back to the condo so we could walk to Seacrets. Seems there were all sorts of friends at the beach that weekend and the plan was to meet up with them at Seacrets. I hadn’t seen Chrissy in YEARS and her and her hubby had a chance to get out without the kids and Seacrets is a favorite of hers so it wasn’t hard to get her to catch up with us. YDH was in town with his girl and his buddy Al.

Seacrets was packed and most of us were geared up for dancing in the room with the bouncy floor. You just need to stand there and you’ll bounce due to everyone else jumping up and down. The whole night was crazy and after Chrissy left and before YDH left the guys, who walked us home the previous evening, showed up looking for Shortie and I. The night was nearly over and everyone was pretty hammered.

He said to me: ”I have the keys and I’m taking you outta here for some alone time. I have a cab waiting outside.”

“There’s a ton of cabs outside… Always, and there’s no way I’m leaving my wing-girl.”

This dude was so drunk he could barely keep his eyes open but he continued, “Come on I’ll have you back in 30 minutes.”

“You’re so drunk you couldn’t even get it up in 30 minutes.“

I had expected him to behave something like this the previous evening but he didn’t, he was a perfect gentleman. At this point he was obviously trying to get some before the weekend was out and you can’t blame a guy for trying. Dude was so drunk and I was pretty snockered so we weren’t going to agree and I wasn’t going anywhere with him. So what do two chicks do in a situation like this? We ditched em. I know pretty juvenile of us but at this point in my life I don’t have to deal with anything that I don’t want to deal with and we were ALL pretty drunk.

Shortie and I hightailed it outta there and back to the condo. I wasn’t even slowed when at some point I accidentally slammed my hand against a wall. I thought I had scraped it up but I didn’t and it was killing me even though I was drunk.

There were numerous calls wondering where we were. Sounding something like “RED! RED! Pick up! Why you do me like that?”

“Pick up“? This isn’t like a home answering machine. I did call back and left a message telling him I just didn’t feel like dealing with his drunk ass.

Sunday brought another hangover but not quite as bad. Shortie and I did some beach time and when the strap from the chair tugged on my hand I nearly hit the roof. I had forgotten about slamming my hand and Shortie and I knew we would have to piece together some of the weekends events on the drive home.

Mom told Shortie she was welcome anytime especially since I seemed to have more fun with her than The Folks. Shortie said, “I don’t know, I seem to get Red into trouble.”

Mom said, “Good!”

Orange Crush
1 1/2 oz. Vodka
3/4 oz. Triple Sec
Orange Juice

Combine vodka and triple sec in an old fashioned glass filled with ice, fill with orange juice and stir.

**Note:  The original post has been modified upon finding out that ALL of those guys ARE married with children including the dawgs who were hitting on Shortie and I.  We were unaware of this and want no part of it.  I guess our instincts to ditch them were right-on.

Then one day a co-worker, The Albanian Metro Boy, showed me this video:

I shared it with my boyfriend and we had a good laugh about how true it all was.

As time went by and the boyfriend and I became more comfortable with each other I would ask, “What’s on your…. Ohhhh! Are you in that nothing box?”

“Ohhhhh… Yeah. Hold on I’m putting it away.”

The last class was Illustrator and as I am who I am I would talk to many in the class.  We had one class left and I was talking to this dude who noted that I said my friend’s name.  It became evident that he was intrigued by her but nothing to worry there was only one class left.  I did, however, tease her that he was going to be in the next class (In Design) with us.

The In Design class started January 28th and my friend was disappointed that I had decided to take a break.  We both voiced concern over the dude, who we will call Tater.  Our concerns became justified the first day of class. 

I was at home and happened to be on the computer when I got a sudden IM “dude. i need you in this class” and in a blink of the eye she was gone.

Ends up Tater picked a seat right next to her and even asked her out after class.  On top of that it seems the Professor is a complete loon.  Every time we talk I become more and more happy with my decision and she wishes she made the same decision.

Now that I’ve set this up here is the conversation we had today:

Graphic Goddess: i HATE HATE HATE this class.

Graphic Goddess: take it with the other Professor, save yourself

Red: oh yeah?  I’m feeling very happy about my decision not to take a class this semester.

Graphic Goddess: yeah i would too. I want to shoot myself

Red: I’m sure Tater isn’t helping

Graphic Goddess: he asks me out every class

Red: really? what the hell?

Graphic Goddess: he’s always like – so you’re not going to let me buy you food?
and i say, nope
and he’s like, really?
and i’m like, yep
and then he hates me for a bit
he’s very grumpy

Red: then he tries again? He’s a brooding sort of guy

Graphic Goddess: yes he is.  We don’t really get along very well
I always think he’s being an asshole and he’s well, always being an asshole

Red: you should bring in a framed photo of you and your boy and ask him his advice on the frame

Graphic Goddess: ha

Red: I love that you are very direct with him

Graphic Goddess:

Red: can I post this conversation? this is funny stuff
I’ll change his name to Tater. So what you want me to call you?

Graphic Goddess: sure.  um…i don’t care. graphic goddess?