Oracle of Pendergrass - A Memorial Day Salute to the Officer and the Gentleman

I knew those huge Chiclet white teeth (Mr. T from the Letter People anyone?), winning shit-eater grin, and dorky over-thought pre-rose ceremony monologues reminded me of someone. Nothing like seeing the blond twin of a former flame (flame sans big muscles) on national t.v. to make you realize the truth - he totally cramped your style. No more guys with pleated khaki short-shorts or tapered jeans for this girl.

Thank You Lieutenant Andy! I freakin' love you.

You Never Even Call Me By My Name

You don't have to call me Darlin'. Don't worry, I won't.

Whenever I find myself reminiscing on past loves (an extremely loose term for 98% listed), I realize that I sometimes cannot remember their real names, but only by the nicknames they were so lovingly, and most of them unknowingly, given. Just to name a few:

Weiner (a.k.a Wingnut, a.k.a Dzor)
Fishbreath (a.k.a Aztec, a.k.a Dustruffle)
Old Balls
The P.M.S
Salmonella
Star Wars Trilogy
Newman
Arrrrrrryoukiddingme
TomP - as if there were so many Tom's (a.k.a Mot, a.k.a Dorito Digits)
Sniffs (a.k.a Panty Sniffer Paul, a.k.a PSP)
Public Defender (a.k.a The PD)
Clementine
Tee-yum
Peter (only his name was Grant, true story)

What's Your Damage?

Well, this month, my damage consists of a 4'x2' hole in my bedroom, and a 5'x3' hole in my den/living room (both roughly 7-8' deep). The cause? Disintegrated floor boards, and rotten load-bearing joists. Translation = expensive, inconvenient, bad. Basically my buddies over at Acme flooring told me that if I had waited another month, my entire apartment may have caved in on me...comforting. More comforting than near death, exposed earth in your living quarters, AND getting a running start to leap over large gaps to get from on side of the room to the next, are the young men who have been at my condo for the past five days fixing my floors.

I'm pretty sure one of them is tarnished from too much huffage on the varnish. He's kind of a cross between Forrest Gump and Slingblade, 25 years old at best, Napoleon Dynamite glasses, and the kind of spotty facial hair that a 13-year old tries to pull-off because "he can." Today I went to go retrieve, at my anxious mother's request, my "jewelry", and on my way out the door SlinGump says: "I would be very, very careful if I was you." Whaaaaaaaaa? Are my brakes going to mysteriously give out on my way back to work? Will I "accidentally" trip over a 2x4 on my way down the stairs? OR, maybe he was referring to the other floor guy. That's right, the one with peroxide blond hair, pale-skin, but really red from a good sunburn, goatee and mustache. The one in the white undershirt, just pudgy enough, and some slick white Nike tennis shoes with a metallic silver swoosh. The same one, who on Monday says to me (with a really coy/creepy smile): "You were that girl at Club Elevation the other night." First of all, not really sure the last time I went to a club where the word "club" was actually in the title. Second of all - "that girl?" Like, "that girl that pulled off the really tricky maneuver on the pole", or "that girl that took one too many shots and threw up in her purse", or "that girl that everyone noticed because her pants were too low and her thong was t-boning in the back" - which girl was I? Not having ever heard of Club Elevation before I explained that he must have me confused with someone else. He shook his head in a way that was saying "don't deny it, you were there too, feeling exactly the same way I felt. I'll tell you where I'd like to lay this wood..." Creeped out by the pretend conversation I had concocted, I suddenly had to get back to work. My mom was taking the afternoon shift to oversee the work, and wouldn't you know Blondie thought maybe he could work the mother angle and says: "I know I saw your daughter at Club Elevation the other night. I bought her a drink and she talked to me and my buddy the whole time. And now she's denying it." Uhhhhhhh, mom, don't get mad, it was just one drink. What the hell? You're ratting me out to my mom for something that I didn't do in some place that I've never been? You're thinking she'll feel sorry for you because I shunned you and try to set us up so you can buy me another drink? (and we know for "another" to happen that there technically has to be a first!) What's your damage, dude?

So aside from the other discomforts mentioned previously, I now have to worry about the fact that this guy is going to be a permanent fixture in my condo (at least for the next week), he knows where I hide my key, AND did I mention the really large holes in my bedroom and living room - large enough that if someone wanted to enter through the basement, find their way with a flashlight to my unit, that they could crawl up through my floors (think in the same vein as Gale and Evelle Snoats in Raising Arizona). Hey mom, if I go missing - it's probably safe to bet that you can try me at Club Elevation.

Oracle of Pendergrass (f.k.a. - Haley's Tip of the Month)

The Oracle, in her infinite wisdom, on likening a failed relationship attempt to a lemon:

That was not a failed attempt. I don't think that had anything to do with you, except that you happened to like a guy who had non-datable qualitites. Kind of like buying a lemon. Its not the way you were driving, the equipment was faulty.

And wouldn't it just be like an Oracle to take more money from you to let you in on more prophecies, only to give you a prophecy she stole from a wise friend. Kathleen's take on the one-night-stand:

It doesn't count as a one night stand if you wanted to see him again. It's not your fault he never called.

Dating Parameters

This Conditional Contract of Dating Parameters ("Contract") is entered into by and between All Females with a Single Income and No Children ("FSINC") -, having an address in Anytown, USA, and all Confused Men in America ("CMA") for the express benefit of a Normal Dating Life ("NDL")

This Contract states that FSINC agrees not to commence any familiar relations with a CMA, for the express benefit of an NDL, if the CMA should fall under one of the following categories:

WHEREAS, the CMA is entering, considering entering, or already entered into a post-graduate educational institution where a degree will be received within a minimum of one year,

This is when an FSINC finds a CMA at his most heightened of confused states. His schedule will be nowhere close to yours. While you may be waking up at 6:00 am to get to the gym in time to get ready for work, he will be snoozing until 10:00am, waking up five minutes before class. And when you come home from work, he'll be heading to the library to cram in an all-nighter before
his exams. Speaking of exams, forget seeing your sweetie at least 2 weeks prior to exam time, then you block out another 2 weeks for exams, and then you have the one week of post-exam
celebration that will no doubt be spent with his other school buddies who are more likely to "understand." You won't understand him and he won't understand you. Be prepared for the "I don't understand why you're so tired, it's Friday night, we should be going out?" - well, technically your CMA is right, but if he worked a 50+ hour week dealing with ass holes, he would understand why you want to stay in. If your CMA happens to be in Law School, well, I've got two words - The Bar, and two more words - Dump Him.

WHEREAS, the CMA has an address outside of a 50 mile radius of your own residence,

If you are from New York and you reside on the West-Side, then you have no hope dating a man on the East-Side. Since we don't all live in Manhattan, I thought that a 50 mile radius was generous enough. That puts you door-to-door, hopefully, in less than one hour, making it just long enough to get a little irritating, but not too long that you can't stay over night and drive into work the next morning…on time. If you meet a CMA who lives beyond the 50 mile radius, do not plan on seeing him during the week - which actually, in my opinion can be a good thing, especially if your CMA falls under the first category. Furthermore, it is of utmost importance that your CMA make every effort to see you/you see him in the first months of dating. Distance is a bitch no matter which way you look at it, and trying to ignite a spark, let alone keep it burning, 250 miles apart is damn near impossible. If you insist on dating your long-distance CMA, make sure you put in your contract that you will NOT talk on the phone every night. Nightly conversations only contain boring topics which lead to frustration and ultimately self-conscious behavior - "you don't love me anymore…how come you never want to talk to me…is there someone else…you never want to see me" etc etc. Self-conscious behavior is not good for anyone, isn't how an FSINC should feel when in a relationship and only makes your CMA believe that you are not the fun-loving, sassy girl that he was willing to go the distance for earlier on in the relationship.

WHERAS, the CMA is employed, but going through a work crisis/transition,

If you want the attention that you knowingly respect and deserve, it would behoove any young FSINC not to become smitten with a CMA who is looking to change jobs, on the job hunt, or who's company is going through a transition like a merger or acquisition. If there is ONE thing that sends a CMA into a complete tail-spin (and no ladies, we can't flatter ourselves because it is not us), it is the J-O-B. Job is to man, like sex is to a nymphomaniac. You put what's sacred to them in jeopardy, and your liable to find them in God only knows what state of mind, twisted up in an awkward position, dry-humping the doctor's chair (did I just say that?). Bottom line is, they wig out, and can only focus on one thing - which is, their job. Not only will you have to be exposed at an all-to-early-stage of how the CMA handles stressful situations, but you will also have to witness a certain level of drama that just isn't flattering, nor appealing/attractive to the FSINC. So if you like him, give him space AND time. If he likes you enough (more than his job), the CMA may come around after the doctor throws him out of the office for lewd public behavior and scarring other patients in the waiting room.

and,

WHEREAS, the prospective CMA's termination of a previous relationship is in question, even though you thought it was established.

This category may seem easy to spot, but let me tell you, CMA's may be confused, but they are tricky. They fool you with their flirty behavior, tease you with over-the-top compliments, and then cold-cock you when they tell you they may or may not still have a girlfriend. No respectable FSINC would knowingly date a CMA with a girlfriend, they may be easily conned into a make-out, but that's only late at night after several drinks. Nobody wants to go on a few really good dates with a CMA only to find out that the next weekend he took his "ex" girlfriend as his date to a wedding. Weddings are no place for a new date OR a date with an "ex" girfriend. No FSINC thinks its cute when a CMA flirts with her all weekend at an out-of-town wedding, when no other girl's name was mentioned by the CMA or his CMA cronies, only for the loser to drop the word "girlfriend" at the bewitching hour as he's going in for the good-night smooch. And it is certainly not wise for an FSINC to become involved with a CMA who is fresh off the long-term relationship boat. This only means dealing w/ dramatic ex-girlfriends (at least we think they're an ex - also please reference "Statute of Grievatation), awkward run-ins, and basically not being able to go on any fun dates because everyone is anxious they might run into the poor, heart-broken FSINC , who could also potentially be psycho.


NOW THEREFORE, if the FSINC and CMA agree to the parameters set forth in this Contract, you are almost certainly guaranteed to embark on an NDL.

But then again, what the hell is NORMAL?

Elevator EavesDropping

When riding from the Lobby to Floor 27, I had the privelage of riding with two secretaries in my office. I obviously couldn't help but overhear their conversation over the domination of Anna Nicole Smith's death in the media. One turns to the other to say:

"I mean, I feel bad an all, but you know that baby is a whole lot better off no matter where it ends up."

I truly for the first time felt sorry for A.N.S - R.I.P.

The Way You Make Me Feel / The Age of Chivalry is Not Dead

I often write posts about misfortunes of being single, and the frequency at which I run into my ex-boyfriend. But I write this post for all of you ladies who, like me, are wondering when you're going to catch a break...don't give up hope. I too have been a victim (numerous times) of the recent male generation of non-door-openers, indecisive-restaurant-choosers, premature-sexual-advancers, never-call-you-backers and the i'll-give-you-10%-while-you-exhaust-your-psyche-with-the-other-90% 'ers.

When up in Nashville for New Year's Eve, I was re-acquainted with a guy (we'll call him Billy Jean) that I briefly knew while living in Washington, DC. I say "briefly knew" because the only encounter we had was at a party on Capitol Hill back in 2003 where we squared off at our self-initiated Michael Jackson dance-off (that's right, on the floor, in the round). One friend was touting my skillz, and another touting his. I can't help but think his shaming on the dance floor led to his eventual fleeing of the city. Anyway, determined not to have a disappointing/anti-climactic New Year's Eve, I decided to head up to Nashville, solo, where several of my Nashville-native/Vanderbilt friends from D.C. were renting out a bar to ring in 2007. Two of my guy friends picked me up before dinner to grab a quick drink at the bar, where we met Billy Jean, had a few drinks and several laughs. We we split up into separate groups for dinner and all rendezvoused for the soiree. While Billy Jean and I certainly had a great at the party, and shared lots of humorous stories, I wouldn't say that he nor I paid particularly close attention to the other throughout the entire evening. Although I did manage to work in FIVE smooches at midnight...him being one of them. Pecks, of course! Maybe he decided not to exhaust his energy on me that evening since my Clairvoyant ex-boyfriend (i know, I thought we were over this) decided to show-up - what? You don't know anyone here? You cross state lines and you still show up at the same party as me? The fact that I may or may not have gone home with the ex to start the new year off with a bang is beside the point....actually it has a lot to do with the point. I'll continue.

I spent New Year's day in my car traveling back to Bama, and I assume that Billy Jean spent his day traveling back to Chattanooga. Turns out that he was also spending his day tracking down my email address. When I returned to work on the 2nd I had an email dated on the 1st from Billy Jean telling me how much fun he had making me laugh and that he hoped to keep in touch. Talk about flattering. Well of course I responded with great zeal and offered to entertain him anytime that he wanted to visit the Magic City. After some rounds of emails that week, I was pretty excited about my new friendly relationship. That weekend I was driving up to Atlanta with Big Momma (my trooper of a friend who is 8 mos pregnant) for a bachelorette party. I looked down at my phone and noticed I had a message...wouldn't you know, Billy Jean not only tracked down my email, but my cell tell too! This definitely warranted a return call. I buzzed him back after getting situated in our hotel and just had the usual first chit-chat...not wanting to talk too long, so as to leave him hanging. Well, more communication led to another, and next thing I know he's asking if he can drive down to Birmingham to take me on a date!

I accepted the date, but as the time was drawing nearer I started to become nervous about where this guy was going to stay. I mean, he admitted himself that he knows nobody in this city. Do I outright ask? Was he presumptuous enough to think that he was staying at my place? Do I offer to put him up with a friend? Do I lay a pillow and blanket out on the couch so it's clear of my intentions? Well, next thing I know he's sending me an email telling me where we're going to dinner (Little Savannah, excellent choice) and that he's got a room at the Marriott. Not only did my wave of anxiety disappear, but wow, this guy has taken care of everything. Not only did he do the restaurant research on his own and pick a great one, but he also bucked up and got himself a hotel room because as he said "I am many things, but I would like to think that presumptuous is not one of them". Okay, so maybe this was a complete act, but I was totally buying it. The truly sad part of this whole situation is that I couldn't believe that such gentlemen existed...that his behavior was out of the ordinary, when actually it should be the total norm.

I am happy to report that the date was a smashing success, and whether or not Billy Jean was my lover for the night will remain between me and him. There has been a second date, and plans for future ones. So the point is ladies, fear not, you too can enter a dance-off and find your own Michael Jackson companion (okay, a less perverted, naturally preserved version) who will track you down even if you blatantly still sleep with your ex. While we may pimp ourselves out to the losers who go around breaking young girls hearts - - there is a Billy Jean out there for everyone who is ready to claim that you are the one.

For Booty or Worse

Recently I have been the victim of a few booty calls, ore more appropriately, booty texts (dang the age of cellular communication). I wonder how booty calls went down before cell phones/landlines were invented? is that when you would throw a rock at someone's window at 3:00am? And why does throwing a rock in the name of love seem so much more romantic?

After two bad decisions (made two months apart) to go home with my ex-boyfriend, I suddenly found that the booty calls/texts have been coming more frequently - more like two weeks apart. Please keep in mind that the previous bad decisions were made after running into each other in-person, which allowed for at least 20 minutes of face-time/awkward conversation, and the opportunity for the ole hand on the knee (universal indication for - you're going to come home with me - and isn't it sad that all it takes is a hand on the knee to completely melt you into makeout mode?). The recent phone calls/texts have been coming much later in the night, which to be honest slightly offends me. I mean, yes I may have gone home with you from a bar or party? But do you honestly think that I'll accept an invitation to meet you directly in your bedroom after no effort has been put forth? Okay…maybe, depending my point of desperation.

What exactly demotes one from bar hook-up to booty call category? I guess if I had actually granted a late night text request in the past, then I could understand. I guess a guy has to put himself out there, try, wait and see. My favorite, most recent attempt was over a week ago when I stupidly got into a text message exchange with said ex, until it finally climaxed to a 2:30 am phone call on a Thursday night. Secretly I was hoping it would be a booty call just so I could reject him to his face (or at least with spoken words, and not written). "I mean if you wanted to come over and huff my sheets, I would be okay with" - I bet you would. I laughed and gave him props for such a bold solicitation. Then he laughed and I thought that ended the booty call stint until...Pot Calls Kettle Black. My furiousness suddenly turned to flattery and desire this past weekend, when I found myself in a drunken stupor coaxing said ex for a late night rendezvous. Somehow it seemed okay if I were initiating. He accepted, and not very hesitantly for someone who hadn't just had multiple vodka-sodas and goldschlager shots(wha???)

What makes us fall into these damn traps. Is it the longing for the smell of Speed Stick? The comfort of just having another warm body in the bed? The cuddling the next morning while watching various MTV episode marathons? him buying you breakfast? the awkward conversation good-bye and wondering whether or not you even acknowledge what just happened? the anxiety of never hearing from the person again? or running into them a few weeks later pretending that you haven't seen each other in months and having more awkward conversations and perpetuating the cycle? Can it ever just be for the nookie???

Cooking Tip of the Week

Never pick your nose after chopping a jalapeno.

If you should be stupid enough to do such a thing, I suggest immediately going to the bathroom sink and snorting cold water up your nose. Only don't snort it all the way, just enough to hold the cold water in your nostril for a nice cooling effect. When water becomes luke-warm, repeat as often as necessary.

Resolve and Evolve

Let it be known that on, Monday, January 1, 2007, that I, GAC, resolve to take charge of my life in the year 2007 by doing the following (in no particular order of priority):

1) Be nicer to my mom. This seems like an easy task, but when your mom calls you at work, if no answer, calls cell phone twice, if no answer, then work again, you answer only to have her ask you an "urgent" question which she has forgotten…calls you BACK at work b/c she remembered: "ummm, have you seen my tweezers?". I will not sigh directly in her face, but rather cover the mouth piece of the phone so she cannot detect my exasperation.

2) Accept my deficiencies of laziness and hatred toward cleaning supplies, dirty dishes, and laundry hampers and hire a cleaning/maid service.

3) To overdraw my bank account no more than once every 2 months - and perhaps to start a savings account (a bit lofty, I know).

4) Search for a standard/go-to drink. You know, "the usual."

5) Purchase only one bridesmaid dress - and sell off the other 15 in my closet.

6) Brush up on my Spanish so I can read the food labels at the Piggly Wiggly.

7) To go on more dates, but not by compromising my standards (which may actually lead to fewer dates).

And finally,

8) To be more productive at work by writing more frequently in my blog.

As we say it at my house, Happy Nu Nu!

A Little Haste for the Holidays - "Just Call Me"

I had a date the Thursday before Christmas. It was a nice evening, caught my favorite Christmas Movie, Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas, at a local bar, then headed out for tapas - where I proceeded to slide across the restaurant floor as if figure-skating were my true hidden talent. Since he did not mock me at my misfortune, laughed at all of my jokes, AND called me beautiful I thought it was certainly worth a second date, but Saturday you ask? I gave my go-to answer "just call me." Friday night I had big plans with friends in town, and Saturday I was planning on spending in recovery mode. Saturday afternoon came around, and he called me. I explained that I was fairly cracked-out from having stayed out until 5am, and waking up at 1pm. This did not seem to phase him, so I obliged, and we cooked dinner and watched a movie. He asks again, "when can I see you next?", and I reply, "just call me." Well, he does. He calls me the next day to wish me a Merry Christmas, to see if I would be interested in hanging out that night, and then to say, "I also have a small gift I want to bring by"….hives spread over my body, and my throat begins to close. A present!!?? What to think! I quickly declined his invitation to hang out (I was planning on spending the entire day in my pajamas anyway), and then he asked if I would be interested in hanging out the next day. Geeez, this guy certainly doesn't beat around the bush. So I said "just call me." As you can imagine my mind began racing about what the gift could actually be? Why would someone who has only been out with me twice want to give me a gift? What if it was inappropriate, could I give him the ole "I can't accept this?" Would I feel differently if I were totally in to him? I know, I know, women like me should be accustomed to getting showered with gifts, I should be appreciative of his thoughtful gesture, but I'm not. I'm a total bitch who gets creeped out when guys jump the gun, express interest in me too soon, and are actually polite gentleman (and yet, I always bitch when my boyfriends can't do these things). So I got the call on the 26th, but I didn't answer the phone. I kind of wanted to wait in hopes that I would dash any of his plans to grab dinner or catch a flick, so I did wait and wouldn't you know he was headed to dinner w/ his family…phew. But then he asked if he could come by afterwards to bring me the gift. I once again thrusted into panic mode and said, you got it, "just call me." Is it fair for me to go from "could-be-interested" to "sick-to-my-stomach" in such a short amount of time? He called around 9 pm to see if it was still kosher to stop-by. I mean, I couldn't really say no at this point. So he did, and brought me "the gift". You can imagine how relieved I felt when I opened the door and noticed a wine bottle gift bag. But then again, you can never be too sure. So as the package portrayed it was a bottle of wine (always appreciated), and surprise! two mix CD's, which were also appreciated, but hilariously reminiscent of Junior High. The most classic part of the CD's were the fact that they were labeled: "Ginger Ann's Bluegrass Mix" and "Ginger Ann's Pop Mix". I think in adulthood when appropriately labeling mix CD's you are to either a)come up with a clever title, or b) put your own name as the possessive, or c) no names attached at all. Names only give permanent reminders. Yes, they are a gift to me, but I'm not sure I want to claim the songs on either CD not having experienced a dry-run.

It certainly could have been worse, and they're definitely the kind of gifts you wouldn't feel bad for accepting if you had to drop the axe the next week. I wonder if he thought it odd that I told him he needed to leave as I had to "mentally prepare" for work the next day.

Merry Ex-Mas

It's the happ-happiest season of all...

Being single during the holidays is a double-edged sword for me. On one hand, I realize that by not having a boyfriend I am saving myself dough and anxiety over finding the perfect gift. On the other hand, I am one of those sick individuals that has the uncanny ability to concoct the perfect present for that special someone. And let me tell you people, my effort and skill does not go unnoticed...Never a disappointed boyfriend in the house. So it's no surprise that this year's holiday gloom is not from the lack of a snuggle buddy over a mug of spiked cocoa, but rather from the distress that I can't compete with myself to top last year's gift.

Apparently there are others that remember this unique "gift" of mine as well. Wouldn't you know that my most recent ex emailed me this past Friday:

do you (or - insert sister's name ) have any good gift ideas? i've done nothing.

Other than the obvious faux pas presented in this email, I must say that at first read I find it humorous that he has included my sister in his inquiry. Does she really give a shit about his holiday predicament? Is he thinking that by including both of us it makes it less "weird"? Also, unless the gift tag has my name on it, do I really want to offer up any suggestions? Like all of us single losers, and against my better judgment, I emailed him back...Hey it's the holidays!

Well that response led to a few more emails. And then, like the Angel Gabrielle, this gem appeared out of nowhere. Let me tell you folks, you have never received an email quite like this one. Not from a boy who broke you heart, then moved down the street from you, frequents all the same hangouts, and works 2 blocks away, forever keeping you on your toes and making it devastatingly hard to move on (bitter much?). This is the perfect topper to the the most dysfunctional of break-up trees:

sorry but i need help with one more thing. i don't have a girlfriend to ask these things so you'll have to bear with me. besides which you should be flattered i value your opinion. i thank you in advance. first, do you like this jacket (for me, not gift)? if so or if not, which color is better, brown or grey?

Speechless, right? First thought, cry me a fucking river. Second thought, are you trying to be funny? Third thought, I should be flattered? Shouldn't you be flattered that I'm even acknowledging you? Final (for the purposes of this blog) thought, you actually think I have a vested interest in helping you look good? Sorry, but I think you need help with more than one thing. Say a little couth with the ladies?? When you have relinquished the privilege of dating me, isn't this where your sisters and mother come in? It's like you want certain benefits, but not even the good ones…

I will certainly be searching for a new lad under the mistletoe this holiday season. Until then…Merry Ex-Mas to all and to all a good night!

The Lab Rat

Watch it...I'm testy.

Minnie from the Block

Don't be fooled by the dots that I got.

Queen Bee

If the queen ain't happy - ain't nobody happy.

Drool on This

One of the more fascinating job responsibilities I have is to research items to give out at expo's, to clients, or for holiday gifts, etc. (please note that I correctly used "holiday"). Gifts that are more lovingly referred to in the marketing world as "promotional products", "give-aways", "tsatskes"...or as I like to call them "trash", "crap", and "what the hell am I supposed to do with cheese knives etched with your ugly-ass logo, do you think I'm really going to impress my guests with this?"

Even scarier than the logo-etched cheese knives is the "Drooling Serenity Fountain" that I just came acrosss - yes they used "drool" and "serenity" in the same product name. I mean, I guess I drool when I sleep, and when I sleep I'm serene, but get one look at this masterpiece and you'll certainly find the irony...You may even drool a little bit, but more out of fright than envy.

This thing makes me feel lots of things - none of which can be defined as serene. I mean, first of all he's staring (and making no issue about it), and secondly, he's drooling - just an overall rude fountain if you ask me. Can anyone tell me if looking at this makes them feel comfortable? Did SunTrust authorize this as a gift? If so, I highly suggest switching institutions.

Oddly enough this fountain has a somewhat mesmerizing effect, and I can't help but stare at it 9(maybe because it's so freakin' serene) - not only in shock and awe - but b/c of something more familiar . Something out of my childhood - out of a fantasy world. Take me to Fantasia! Did somebody say - Rockbiter?

Haley's Tip of Month

On reveling in your single youth...

We might still, at 27 years old, go through several serious boyfriends and breakups before finding the person we'll be with for the rest of our lives. Try to get over the whole stereo-type/pressures to be with someone and have kids and crap. Remember to enjoy these years because we're not going to get them back.

A Fraction of Hope: Cuz I Ain't No Challah Back Girl

I was raised, baptized and confirmed in the Presbyterian Church. I wouldn't call my family uber religious - meaning we didn't go to church every Sunday (my father said "you don't have to go to church to believe in God"), but we all believe in a higher power in our own way. If my family practices any sort of religion it would be the Southern Religion - worshiping good food, great music, exaggeration and antique furniture.

I remember at a young age, we would gather 'round the dining room table at my maternal grandparents' home in Ocean Springs, MS - we were very quick to say the blessing so we could move on to the toasts. I recall that after every toast my grandmother would raise her glass and say - "L'Chaim" (la - kai - hem, the "hem" rattled with your best phlegm). Most goyems don't know this term, but it means "to life" in yiddish. I thought it fascinating, that she spoke a language that none of us knew - and we would of course respond with great naches, "L'Chaim."

This is the first memory I have of my grandmother's intrigue with the Jewish culture and religion - it wasn't until about 10 years or so later that it would become a recurring topic of conversation, and something that I would embrace. This is because in those 10 years I came to find out that we (my brother, sister and I) are in fact 1/16 Jewish. Which, to me, put my life into an entirely different perspective. I mean, I was now, for all intents and purposes, a pale-skinned, blonde-haired, button-nosed Jew - how diverse! Lest we forget, exaggeration was mentioned as being part of the Southern Religion, so this fraction may or may not be distorted (one will never know). And even better than the fraction of my Judaism is the fact that it doesn't even come from my grandmother's side, it comes from my grandfather's side, which according to the Jewish religion - doesn't make me Jewish at all, but mazel to my grandmother for embracing her husband's heritage and passing it on! And yes, it is a little Gefilte-fishy that my grandfather never mentions this background, but let's just go with it for the sake of the blog.

Now that I'm sailing past my mid-twenties, my grandmother's Jewish alter-ego has taken an entirely different direction (insert song - "Matchmaker"). Over the years I have had the privelage of growing my mispoche of Jewish men (Jlo, Big Head, Geranimo, Ginsu, etc) - some of the finest, smartest, well-dressed, and did I mention funniest? people I know. After my grandmother learned about what knakers I was befriending, I realized how much she wanted this shikse to be a part of the clan:

Hinting: "well you know, Jared, Ginger Ann is 1/16 Jewish" (eh? eh?). Planning: "I have always wanted to decorate a chuppah. It would look great in the yard." Complimenting: "I have always said that Jewish men give the best jewelry and make the best lovers." Pushing: "why don't you just go ahead and marry one of those little jew- boys. Women shouldn't have children after the age of 30."

With all of the not-so-subtle hints, I wonder - does my wise grandmother truly believe Judaism to be my destination? Is she just wanting me to live out a life that she only 1/4 had? I have participated in a Seder…I have always enjoyed a good bar/bat mitvah…and challah bread souffle…halt din zoken!

So whether your grandmother wants you to be Jewish, you're a fraction, a wannabe, or just want to know more - the following references will be very helpful in your quest:

• Yiddish terms, complete with pronunciations, Kosher Nosh Dictionary
• Basic overview of the religion, Judaism for Dummies
• Things you should know if you're interested in dating a Jewish man,
  What to do when you're dating a Jew, or
  Boy Vey!, The Shiksa's Guide to dating Jewish Men
• Kosher food, we don't dig on no swine - The Almighty Manischewitz

The Fur Bus Cometh

For those ages 23-35 looking for a good idea for a bachelorette party, I HIGHLY recommend the Fur Bus in Hotlanta. Picture an old school bus, painted in psychadelic colors, insides stripped and replaced with floor to ceiling furs of different varieties, couches lining each side and the back and blinking red lights. Did I forget to mention the killer soundtrack that Captain Jack played all night long? Apparently they have these things in other locations, so check out the web site. But if you're in Atlanta, just ask for Jack.

Statute of Grievatation

"So many tears I've cried, so much pain inside. Now baby it ain't over 'till it's over" - - Lenny Kravitz

For the recently scorned who are familiar with the lyrics of Lenny's song, you can all relate to the tears and the pain, but the part that becomes blurry to some is the ambiguous "it ain't over 'till it's over." So basically the relationship is over, but not until it's over...While it doesn't seem to make sense on the surface, we all know the exact feeling to which Lenny refers. Many women and men have a hard time defining over, explaining over and overcoming over, creating tumultuous delusions of "maybe", "one day", and "possibly."

As a victim of a very recent break-up, I decided to mend some wounds and hit up the Big Apple with a good friend. Sometimes I feel like New York is the most liberating city for these types of situations, but then most of the time it just makes me feel totally unfashionable, fat, and uncultured, defeating the purpose of my original intent. I should also mention that I had an allergic reaction to my eye make-up causing my eyes to swell up like a boxer - let's just say that I didn't get lucky. And moving back to the subject at hand. While my friend and I were consuming some excellent sushi at Cube 63, the conversation tended to lean toward the why's and how's of the end to my most-recent relationship. Situated two months deep into the break-up, I didn't feel like analyzing was completely out of the question. Moving from sushi to The Library, the bar played all songs that could be found on my ex's ipod play list - mutual favorites including Pixies, Bowie and Beck - sending me further into a state of nostalgia. I quickly downed my redbull and vodka and moved to swankier spirits like gin fizzes and champagne at the Maritime hotel - hoping that further lubrication would lead to a better situation. My friend must have been faster on the draw than I, as she had to take herself home a little bit earlier.

I found myself a cab - where I texted ex about said bar and music (such a disappointing move for me, in my recent maturity I'm never one to drink and dial/text), got to the Upper East side apartment, and was greeted at the door by a teary-eyed roommate, who I may have forgotten to mention dated my ex-boyfriend 3+ years ago. Before I could get through the front door, it was made known to me that my presence was very uncomfortable for her, that she's sorry for acting like a bitch all weekend, and that I need to understand where she's coming from. I immediately sobered up at this display, and quickly let her know that I didn't feel her behavior was rude and that I am sensitive to these types of situations (errrr - uhhh). Apparently my friend and her roommate had been in a screaming match since their arrival from the bar - and I slowly pieced it together that it was about ME and my (our) ex-boyfriend. I acted as mediator for a good bit of the exchange until I was unwillingly brought into the conversation when the roommate felt it necessary to say (all important quotes strung together to hit high points and not have to scribe entire conversation - names used for anonymity) "you just need to know that JOHN DOE(ex-boyfriend) is the love of MY life - it is very difficult to be around you - we do not have to be best friends - I had to give up my family of friends when JOHN DOE and I broke up." All the while I am thinking how bizarre it is for me to be a part of this, and I can't believe I'm responding so neutrally until…"I know you guys just broke up, I mean that he broke up with you - and I'm sorry". WOW, talk about a passive/aggressive jab, and sorry my ass. I would also like to mention that this roommate felt it would have been more appropriate for me to stay in a hotel - or my friend to have put her up in a hotel vs. staying at the apartment. So I defended myself as much as necessary, but did I really need to be defending my presence? Or my choice in men? And YOU'RE grieving ? What about me? Am I to be completely overlooked into this situation.? This girl and John Doe broke up OVER three years ago and she has hit so low as to talk to ME about her undying love? I think Wayne Campbell put it best, "Get over it ; go out with somebody else". (insert format question from Carrie Bradshaw) But then I thought, what is the statute of limitations on grieving over an ex? She obviously didn't think it was "over".

In trying to find the permissable amount of grieving time over a broken relationship, I posed the question to several friends, both male and female (please let it be known that only females responded - go figure). And many came back with similar answers…

I. The Mathematical Approach
You can build a formula for accepted grieving time based on the amount of time you and your ex-dated. I will use my most recent relationship to plug into this formula (11 months) for demonstration.

Formula 1: For every year you dated your significant other, you allow yourself 3 months.

#Years x 3 months = Acceptable Grieving
.93 years x 3 months = 2.75 months of grieving (i've got 3/4 of a month to
go!)

Formula 2: Half of the amount of time you dated your significant other.

#Months / 2 = Acceptable Grieving
11 months / 2 = 5.5 months of grieving
(is this excessive?)

Many people would probably go for Formula 2 b/c it allows you more time; however, if you dated someone for 7 years - that would be 3 1/2 years of grieving - that's wasting time in my book.

II. Getting Under to Get Over
Another answer that was repeated often was the old adage, "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else." First of all, for the purposes of this discussion "to get under" can mean sex, hooking up, smooching, whatever you want. I don't want to discriminate between the promiscuous and the prudish. Personally, I think this theory is questionable at best. After my first love and I broke up, I found that the distraction of other men was very fun, but only because I thought it was making my ex jealous. It certainly helped me get over a certain uncomfortability of becoming intimate with a new person, but ultimately led to an unhappiness of "getting under" a series of losers who could not accept the fact that I wasn't looking for love. This go-round, the thought of being with someone else is just not appealing, and makes me think that if I were to "get under" someone, it would only make me miss the ex even more. Any one have experiences where this has helped? I also posed the question - what if you have gotten under many a people and STILL can't get over the ex. Katie writes: "Try two men at one time." I like her forward approach.


III. Oh No, You Got to Keep on Movin'
Probably the most realistic answer was pointed out by Meg: "you never fully get over them until you move on… and they never fully get over you until they fully move on." And in all honesty, we don't know how long this could take. Sometimes you go in waves of not thinking about him/her, to being fully consumed by him/her. I eventually came to a point when I was so sick of Tim (my first love) being in and out of my life, that it was all I could do to get him to leave me alone - and then - BOOM - like an atomic bomb, I fell in love again…Tim? Who?

A "Wise Old Owl" said that as far as the break-up is concerned don't grieve - accept - and move on. It's hard and you can grieve a little (3 - 6 mos max); however, if you're still grieving after that, it is from the damage to your ego (so true), not from the sadness over the breakup. Separate the event - end of the relationship - from the damage to your ego. DO NOT allow yourself the luxury of self pity or blame.

So in conclusion, when he/she wants to break up, just believe that it truly is OVER, cuz we do not have time on this earth for the gray, murky bull-shit. And if they change their minds, hopefully they won't be too proud to tell you, and hopefully you will be a better person on your own or with someone new.