Happy 2010!

I’m going to stress the word “happy”. I hope that everyone has a very happy year. One —It’s the polite thing to do and secondly, I just recently watched a news segment that was all about how being unhappy just isn’t posh anymore. The segment pimped a “happiness” website and had tips for people to be happier. I was rolling with laughter as the reporter relayed how uncool it is to be unhappy and people “just don’t want to talk to people who are unhappy”. So this isn’t just a well wish for the new year: It’s a warning —be happy or no one will want to talk to you.

That being said, I am in a total funk.

I had a pretty fantastic New Years Eve. It was filled with good friends and good spirits. I went out with my bestie Joann. We started at the bar where she works and ended at the bar that I work at. I managed to finagle New Years kisses at both locales. One came from one cute Mr. Atheist who broke the ice by moon walking up to me and gal pal. Mr. A was pretty interesting. He had a lot to say about everything and was pretty charming. He tried to convince me that I am an atheist due to my disdain for organized religion while negotiating for a kiss. Upon my distinct refusal, he took matters into his own hands and planted one on me. Of course, I should be appalled, but ya gotta respect the guy that just goes for it. We exchanged digits and so forth as Joann and I scrambled to get to our next stop.

Enter Mr. B. I could probably be more creative in the nomenclature, but B follows A, so it just makes sense. I had waited on Mr. B a couple of times at the bar that I worked at. When I met him it was a few days before I was attended a wedding with Mr. Pink. One thing led to another and Mr. B wanted prove his dancing skills and be my date for the wedding instead. I refused. (A} Mr. Pink B} I have learned that you don’t S where you eat.) Bar customers are not candidates to bed. Finally he made me a bet that his friend would be able to guess whichever celebrity of my choice. I picked Vincent D’Oforio. Amazingly his pal was able to guess it after a series of bizarre questions. So I had to slow dance with Mr. B. It was awkward, but Mr. B was handsome and a gentleman about it. So on New Years Eve, him and I would take turns playing slow songs and dancing. It was mui fun. Mr. B turned out to be pretty hilarious. We were being pretty ridiculous as some of the dancing bordered on super-cheesy interpretive dance. At some point in the drunken haze there was a kiss, and a followed by a few more. Things were a little blurry, but he ended up with my number as well.

Now I know that I should be proud of myself. Two New Year Eve kisses??? I don’t think I’ve doubled up like that since my very first french kiss my freshman year of high school. (I didn’t plan it that way, it just happened. Plus, the first one totally went for my nose. It was only right that someone else did it right later that night.) I should be flattered by the pursuit of not only one, but two, pretty handsome young men. I should be skipping along happy. Overjoyed!

However, I couldn’t help but wonder where and with whom Mr. Pink was.

New Years Day my other best friend Kelly was in town. (Crazy right? Who has so many best friends. Well I do. Like I said earlier, I’m a lucky girl.) Josie and I have been super close with Kelly since high-school and have been able to stay close with Kelly even after she moved to Myrtle Beach five years ago. Kelly has a huge immediate family. I think there is a total of six kids in the family. Whenever Kelly is in town, it is quite the gathering. Pretty much each of her siblings has a family of their own. Her youngest brother who’s four years younger than me has a very cute baby boy. While watching the Buckeyes defeat Oregon in the Rose Bowl, he wanted to know why I didn’t have any kids yet. He said that I was the last of the whole crew to have babies and that I had better hurry up. Seriously what am supposed to do? Hurry up and what? Am I going to turn into a pumpkin or some shit? Am I supposed just go bang crazy and cross my fingers that some random dude will put a baby up in me? Seriously, I really wonder what people expect me to do. I’m sure that procreation has been forced on people several times since the dawn of time, but what do I fricken look like? The Baby Gestapo? Murphy Brown? Furthermore, I always want to know what to say when people ask you why you’re single, not married, not a mother… As if I have a fricken answer for them. “Uhm, well, I have a magic genie lamp, but I just don’t feel like cashing in my wishes yet.” Should I go down the list of failed relationships with the person inquiring and explain to them why they didn’t work out? Why he picked the other girl? Why he’s happily married now and I’m not? As if I knew the answers to these questions, but anyway… It’s utterly frustrating.

So yeah, that was awesome.

Sorry for being so un-posh.

On a more hilarious note: Trainer Matt was at the second bar. That dude can line dance like a mo-fo.


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