I am so in the mood for cake! I've been thinking about it for quite a while -- obsessing on it, I guess you could say.
I want a delicious, light chocolate angel food cake with really dark heavy chocolate frosting, lots of it. I've been dreaming of it, and I've come to the conclusion that I just can't be happy, my life won't be complete without this cake.
Finally, opportunity knocks! I have found all the ingredients for my perfect cake. Well, actually, I couldn't find the high quality ingredients that I'd really prefer and deserve, but, hey, I've got the basics and I'm willing to settle. I won't think about that right now. Somehow, I'll make it work.
I quickly jump into the kitchen and throw my cake together as fast as I can and pop it into the oven, which somehow is set too high. But I'll cool it down later. It doesn't matter. It will be okay. Maybe it will bake faster that way.
Oh, I'm going to be in heaven in no time at all! I can't stop staring at the oven, tapping my foot impatiently. It looks so good and I want it so badly, I just can't wait to take a big bite of it and have exactly what I've been dreaming of! It's going to be so perfect. Everything will be wonderful!
In fact, I'm so impatient, I just can't wait! There is no way that I can wait a moment longer for this delicious cake! Knowing that this cake is right there before me in the oven, just out of my grasp, I don't understand why I should have to wait.
THAT'S IT! I WANT IT NOW AND I'M NOT GOING TO WAIT!
My impatient fingers reach into the oven and grab it. Oh, it's so hot, and my fingers are burned. Why didn't I at least wait to put on an oven mitt? Okay, well, I'm burned now, but I can overlook that in order to get to this cake . . .
Except the cake looks kind of funny. It hasn't cooked evenly due to the oven temperature, and it's flattening out since I pulled it out too soon in my haste to have what I wanted.
It doesn't taste so good either. The icing on the cake? Why did I insist on an over-powering heavy chocolate frosting on such a light angel food cake. It doesn't fit or go together at all!
Why wasn't I more careful to get good ingredients, wait for my cake to be done before I just threw myself into it, and pick a frosting recipe that didn't go with my cake at all? My cake happiness has been ruined!
In my impatience to have everything my way and in my timing, I ruined the entire experience. I rushed ahead, burned myself and ruined the cake. It did not bring me happiness; in fact, it brought me pain and disappointment.
Have you ever had a half baked relationship?
Have you ever wanted a relationship so badly that you didn't care who it was with, thrown yourself into it too fast, or been unwilling to let it develop in your haste to have it right now?
Just like the cake, relationships need the right ingredients, time to bake, or develop, and time to figure out whether you like each other well enough to decide whether to love each other.
Just like the cake, if you're so eager to have a relationship that you lose sight of the goal to have a healthy, happy one with the right person, you can end up with something akin to the ruined cake -- something that has fallen flat, burned you, and left you unfulfilled and disappointed.
Happy baking!
I am, truly, drowning in reality. I have this terrible addiction:
I am a reality show addict.
I do have certain standards and have avoided some of the worst of the worst train wrecks, and I have a strict rule that the third time a celebrity goes on a show to find "true love," it won't be with me -- at least in the audience. Oh, and that's True Love, aka $$$$$$$.
I think my pure fascination with reality shows stems from the fact that people aren't playing a part, they are being themselves. Yes, I'm aware that reality shows aren't all "real," but as a psychic, I like studying people's reactions, are they true to themselves, are they hiding, are they phony, what is their agenda.
So here's my take on my favs:
1. The Bachelor/Bachelorette shows.
Let's face it, we get behind these people. We have our favorites. We boo and hiss for the bad guy, and celebrate the good.
Take last season. Who wasn't screaming, "Are you kidding me?" everytime Jillian gave Wes a rose, or had empathy for the fact that Ed, forevermore, will have the rep as the guy who couldn't, ummm, well, rise to the occasion?
But my theory on these shows is that it's a whole lotta TV exposure and competition, and who can resist that? You could throw on somebody's 80-year-old grandmother with a walker and hearing aid, and under those circumstances, there would be 20-year-old hunks aplenty competing for her affections.
And by the way, that Jillian was so impossibly tiny, one helium balloon could carry her away. I saw her in a pic with a friend of a friend of mine. No, it wasn't my uncle's sister's cousin's next door neighbor's father's receptionist. I actually know the size of this person -- and she's small, tiny, in fact, less than average height and in great shape. Jillian made her look BIG, which frankly, should be against the law.
But hmmm, this brings us to --
2. More To Love. O-h M-y G-o-d! These women are all beautiful women, not an ugly one in the bunch, and their self esteen is in the dumper! Luke, well, he's kind of a dufus-turned-charmer-turned-hero because he's accepting these successful, smart, beautiful women with a little -- yes, a little -- extra poundage? I mean, come on, world, something is so wrong here and he's one lucky dude. (By the way, they can lose weight; Luke will still be a dufus).
3. So You Think You Can Dance - Love it, but don't love the judges directing everyone who to vote for and making it clear if you don't agree, you have no taste. The best dancer never wins. I'm still mourning the loss of Travis in Season Two.
4. The Rachel Zoe Project -- What? Yes, I know you've probably never heard of it, but it's the best unintentional comedy I've ever tuned into.
It's about a Valley Girl whose very existence is totally tied into the biz of dressing celebrities, which, in her mind, is so important, the weight of the world rests on her shoulders. She often repeats in a strict monotone, "I'm coming undone," and you wait for something, anything concerning the said undoing, but it never happens. She's nothing but a tease.
Last week's episode saw her warning her assistant Brad to get the Imodium -- yes, Imodium -- before she gives him the news he gets to accompany a celebrity to some awards show. Isn't he potty trained?
In one episode, a celebrity was trying to calm Rachel down and make her realize that the world wouldn't stop revolving on its axis even if the impending tragedy of her outfit having some tiny problem that nobody in the world could notice did exist. She proclaimed the celebrity a "genius" for doing this.
5. Dating in the Date - Talk about genius. Why wasn't this done before? It proves the point, it is all about looks. People can only interact in the dark, and after interacting with the other person, they get a 30-second glimpse, and then have to decide whether to date them.
Yes, you got it. Frequently the person they were crazy about in the dark is thought of as the equivalent of Frankenstein when we bring up the lights and they flee.
I can't really figure this out because why would you want to come across so shallow -- on national TV yet! Why not go on a date with the person, give it a try, not look like a jerk to the nation. They are asking you to go on a date, not marriage.
Secondly, these people are all attractive. None of them would win a beauty contest, but they wouldn't win the ugliest dog contest either. However, they do need stylists (hey, Rachel Zoe, I have a job for you!). You see men in slouchy jeans looking like slobs, a guy with a great build putting on a suit that looks like it was made for his daddy, a woman who wore a muu-muu and a couple of women who decided their hair would look lovely with HUGE flowers and butterflies on the side of their head.
Another oddity is that a couple times the guys stated they weren't used to women that big. THAT BIG? I'd say the largest woman on that show wore about a size 10. Show me some fat other than between the guy who said that's eyes? (Hmm, maybe we need to switch Luke over here so he can call the size 10 women anorexic).
4. Flipping Out - LOVE IT! Lastly, Jeff Lewis is my fav. With all his OCD weirdness, he is the most honest person on reality television. Honest in his weirdness, and he even admits his dishonesty. He waves his weird flag proudly, admits to his OCD, his superficiality, and his manipulations. And he's got great taste.
One word of warning though: never have lunch with Jeff Lewis. Did you ever notice whenever he goes after someone, it's at lunch? If he's going to attack you, it's during lunch. Jenny and Zoila must have the strongest stomachs known to mankind!
I've come up with a great new business opportunity. Rent out a place at his table next time he's about to come down on someone. It would be a great diet aid.
I could go on forever, cause I love Top Chef, The Food Network, Animal Planet, History Channel, and on and on and on.
So what is your favorite reality show and why?
Repost from 2007 per request.
With sincere apologies to Dr. Seuss and his book "Oh! The Places You'll Go":
OH! THE MEN YOU WILL MEET!
Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to meet men!
Perhaps a roll in the hay!
You have brains in your head
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself toward
any man that you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide who will come and go.
You'll look up and down men. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
why do you insist on picking that no-good cheat?
And the good, you may not find any
you'll want to go with.
In that case, of course,
you'll discover Prince Charming a myth.
So keep yourself open and out there
because out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.
And if bad things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
If you just keep moving and keep your head up
good things will start happening too.
OH!
THE NEW MAN YOU HAVE MET!
You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You make love all day
and never have fights!
He won't lag behind, because he'll have the speed.
He'll give you attention, and all that you need.
Whatever he does, he's the best of the best.
The man of your dreams, he will top all the rest.
Except the day that he stops, without a word
And you're left wondering, isn't this absurd?
I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that jerks really can happen
to nice girls like you.
You can get all hung up
and left in the lurch
wondering how this did happen
after all your research.
You'll come down from the lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a slump.
And when you're in a slump,
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.
You'll meet a new man, maybe Tom, Dick or Mark
But you'll be so confused, cause your heart is still dark.
Do you dare to go out? Should you stay in?
How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And IF you go out, this time will it be right?
Will he be the one, or maybe, not quite?
Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,
for someone who's been burned
to make up her mind.
You can get so confused
that your heart will start to race
down a long dark road at a break-necky pace
it seems to drag on forever that weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a man to come or to go
or the e-mail to come, or the tears not to flow
or the phone to ring, or just an answer to know
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
like waiting for your hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for morning, in the middle of the night
or waiting in what feels bitter cold, oh, you're a sight
or waiting around, this just doesn't feel right.
or waiting, perhaps, for a guy named Jake
or a pot to boil, or a better break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wish to come true, just one more chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
NO!
That's not for you!
Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where your long lost friends are playing.
With your shoes flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're open to a new guy!
Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
There are points to be scored. There are games to be won.
And the magical things you will feel when you do get that call
will make you the winning-est winner of all.
My, you'll be popular, as popular as can be,
everyone will want you, all the men that you see.
Except when they don't.
Because, sometimes, they won't.
I'm afraid that some times
you'll play lonely games too.
Games you can't win
'cause you'll play against you.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
alone will be something
you'll be quite a lot.
And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
the fears in your mind will scare you
right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.
But on you will go
though the weather be foul
On you will go
with jerks on the prowl
On you will go
walking with a scowl.
Onward and alone
feeling quite bleak,
though your heart may get sore
and your soul may get weak.
On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange men as you go.
So be sure when you step
step with care and great tact
and remember that life's
a great balancing act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
THEN, YOU WILL MEET HIM!
So...
be his name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you've finally met him!
Today is your day!
Your man is waiting,
he loves you,
this one will stay!
THE SKY IS FALLING! THE SKY IS FALLING!
Okay, Chicken Little, it's just an itty bitty acorn in the speed bumps of life.
I have had two calls in as many days from people scared to death because of Mercury Retrograde and all its accompanying evils.
Let me first say, I am NOT an astrologer, and will leave astrology to the astrologers. I have a great deal of respect for them.
HOWEVER, the world is not ending, your relationship isn't over (unless it otherwise was), your house will not fall down around your ears, and you can, after carefully reading a contract, sign it. Life does not stop or go on hiatus, and neither can you.
Guess what? Last month, my computer broke. Two weeks ago, my washer broke. What should we blame that on?
To me, Mercury Retrograde can cause some frustrations, some confusions, and some change. CHANGE! AHHHH! Scary stuff there, huh?
It's about review and revising things in our life. But how about this: bad stuff can turn to good stuff. That's right, the bad communication you've been having with Mr. Dude can improve. Or you can decide you're tired of his antics and you're ready to move on. Change isn't necessarily bad, it's just DIFFERENT!
Different can be a wonderous thing. It can open new doors, bring on improvement. Why sit whimpering in the corner with a jacked up attitude, fearful of your own shadow?
So you big bully, Mercury Retrograde, you don't scare me one bit. Bring it on, baby!
I'll let you know how it goes. If you don't hear from me, send in a search party! I'll be the girl under the table waving the white flag.
Did you ever feel your relationship was the polar opposite of the Radio Shack commercial?
You've got questions, but he doesn't have answers.
Do you want to know what your dude is thinking, feeling, wanting (ooooh, here's my cue for a subliminal message - "Call me!")? Are you so frustrated you have decided to have a discussion with him about it, tonight even?
Tread lightly, and whatever you do, don't break that news of the upcoming demise of the evening ahead of time. If you clue him in to the fact that you want to play a rousing game of Let's Talk Emotions, he's going to come down with a sudden case of the Anythingbutthat-itis.
Rule No. 1 -- Never, ever, tell a guy you need to "talk." He's smart enough to know it's a no-win situation unless he plans to imitate a bobble-head.
I'll use this analogy: If I want to give Lilith, Dog of Wonder, a bath to maintain her sparkling whiteness, I don't say, "Yo, let's do a bath," because she'll suddenly find something really important to do under, say, the table or the bed, anywhere out of reach.
Now your dude may not run if you mention something involving nakedness and nice silky suds, but Lili is to baths as a man is to talking emotions -- avoidance at all cost.
Instead, lure him in, for example, with a juicy steak --hey, that works with Lili, too. What I mean is, plan something pleasurable, welcome him in, and then, my fiendish one, you close the door.
Don't expect miracles. Mr. Strong and Silent is NOT going to suddenly start crooning "When A Man Loves A Woman."
Decide what vital info you need ahead of time. Don't try to cover too much ground at once. Take baby steps, get in and out of the convo, and move on to the as-promised pleasurable part of the evening or he'll think it's a trap.
Lastly, above all, do NOT ask him what his intentions are. You will be extremely disappointed.
Intentions? His intentions are to watch the game, eat the steak, play kissy-face or other enjoyable pursuits.
Honestly, did you think he had a road map for your relationship? You know dudes don't ask for directions. They just drive down the road trying to have a good time and see where it takes them.
Come to think of it, that's not a bad plan. You might want to borrow it.
We've all known an Ostrich Dude at some point in our lives, been involved with one or are involved with one.
Here's the Ostrich Dude's MO: Life is going along swimmingly, when suddenly, a problem crops up, a difference of opinion, anything unsettling, that he has to man up to -- or dude up to, if you prefer.
So, does Ostrich Dude talk about the problem and solve it with you in nanoseconds? Nooooooooo. Instead, Ostrich Dude's fear reflex kicks in, he starts runnning in circles on those silly stick legs and buries his head in the sand.
Apparently, they do manage to have an underground network of pizza and beer deliveries because they can stay down there for long periods of time. (Hey, I want some pizza and beer! Where's our network? Phooey. We'd probably send salads and sparkling water.)
They are also armed with some kind of special ostrich sensor which sounds an alarm when the statute of limitations on their transgression is up and it's safe to pull their head out and glance around innocently.
By this time, he feels you will be so distraught at his absence you won't care what he did, or, alternatively, will have totally forgotten about what he did -- proving ostrichs have no familiarity with the female psyche whatsoever, which is more akin to the elephant who never forgets.
Many times, I've seen the Ostrich Dude take flight merely because he didn't want to disappoint you. Say you have a movie date and he finds he cannot attend. Instead of picking up the phone and sadly stating the facts, he fears having to undergo the excruciating sound of disappointment in your voice, so instead, he flees -- making your disappointment meter go into the red zone.
Ostrich dude is a problem avoider, plain and simple, and ends up causing far more problems than necessary, and far more problems than he's worth.
So frankly, my dear, never stand on the sidelines feeling jilted and not good enough for an Ostrich Dude. Truth is, there is so much better out there, and you're far too good for an ostrich.
I didn't know they let babies into college. But today, just this morning, my baby starts her first college classes.
How can it be? She's just a little girl. This is the same little baby I held as she took her first breaths in this world, the tiny trusting face that looked up at mine from her crib, the being whose very existence depended on me way back 18 years ago.
Now she's all grown up and going off to college, where she has to do it all by herself, without me holding her hand and guiding her path.
I don't know where the time went, but I wish I could do it all over again. And I know exactly what I'd do differently, too.
I would leap out of bed at her first cry, instead of dawdling a bit to see if she'd go back to sleep. I wouldn't be too tired to explain "why" to inquisitive minds, and I'd be eager to answer, when, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a small voice ask, "Do turtles have teeth?" I would be more interested in playing and hearing her describe the wonders of her world than worrying about dull grown up things. If I could do it all again, I would savor every moment.
To her credit, she is one strong kid, and very indulgent of her mother and her failings, since she turned out just perfect, all on her own.
She's always gotten good grades and stayed out of trouble. Because of me or fear of me? Nope. The reason is even better. She's walked the right path simply because this is what she feels is right.
What more could a mother ask for? Just one thing -- MORE. Just another moment, another day, another year, enough to last another lifetime.
As she takes the reins of her own life, I wish her the same thing -- more. I wish all her dreams come true, and more, going beyond her wildest expectations; I wish her happiness, and more, beyond all limitations; and I wish her a lifetime of love, and more, beyond all bounds.
So here's to you, Katie -- to infinity and beyond, and even more.
"It's Too Late to Apologize, It's Too Late!"** Sorry, I've got that song running through my head.
One of the frequent questions I get from the female of the species is, "Doesn't he realize what he did!!!!!"
So I take a look and find, yep, Mr. Dude-Gone-Wrong indeed does know that he made a boo-boo of monumentous proportions, that he stepped in a pile so large he almost drown in it. Not only that, but he fully intends to make it better.
So here you sit, waiting for him to come crawling back on his belly like the snake he is, acknowledging his culpability and abject sorrow -- waiting, waiting, till you need a visit to the emergency room for stitches from biting your tongue.
Finally, Mr. Romance (aka Mr. Is-The-Coast-Clear?) comes forth, bearing gifts yet. He says, "Hello, Darling. My, you're looking beautiful today! I brought you these roses which pale next to your beauty!" (Yes, it's corny, but under circumstances as drastic as these, one can never overdo!)
Expecting you to swoon, flutter your eyelashes and beam at him in appreciation for his romantic gesture, instead, your face turns as red as the roses the dolt is holding, you make a gutteral sound as if he had pierced your heart with the thorns, and your eyes bulge at him as if he was strangling you. He briefly considers calling 911 to report your seizure, until he realizes, to his horror, that this most unattractive display is directed at him!
You, my dear, have just been hit by (insert echo effect here) "THE MANPOLOGY!"
While he's wondering what he could have possibly done wrong now, you're wondering how he could be so incredibly stupid.
Where did it all go so wrong? Let's rewind this scenario a bit.
He calls and suggests a movie. You are imagining a night out at your favorite restaurant, followed up by cuddling and crying together at the latest chick flick.
Instead, Mr. Dude walked into your house with a six-pack and a DVD of Terminator, The Final Frontier, Part 27, whose only redeeming feature is a momentary glimpse of the reigning California Governor's bare ass.
You are rendered speechless in your disappointment and remain mute. He finds it an incredibly peaceful and enjoyable evening.
The next morning, Dude wakes up from his run-in with the stupid stick and realizes that your whimpering during the movie wasn't in response to the fact that 60-year-old men with political aspirations shouldn't be bearing their bums, and that he must have somehow offended you.
Determined to make things right -- whatever his crime against humanity was -- he goes into the first phase of Manopoly.
Now please be aware that Dude does care -- although in the first phase, you will doubt this fact -- or he would never even mess with a Manpology.
Phase I - He becomes very very busy. It can be work, friends, family, neighbors, even his cousin's neighbor's mother's dog. It doesn't matter the reason, he's incredibly busy. I call this the "Is it safe to go back in the water" phase.
When he next contacts you, if he hears the Jaws theme playing in the background, he's still busy for a bit.
Now you also have to realize, dude is not one who lives in the past, or likes to rehash bad memories (umm, mainly ones he caused). Instead, let's make the future better.
Phase II - This is where the flowers and compliments come in. He's going to be really really nice, showing you how considerate he is and how much he loves you. And he's also holding his breath that it will work and you won't want to have a "talk."
Now unfortunately for dude, you want to "discuss" it to death. You want to make sure he knows exactly how you "feel" and apologizes appropriately.
And voila, you end up with a misunderstanding the size of New Jersey.
So what's up? What do we do with the Manpology?
First off, understanding is half the battle. Let's narrow the distance between Mars and Venus.
Dude is making an attempt to make things better, which does mean he knows something is wrong, and his taking steps to make it better is an apology.
I know it isn't in the manner you'd prefer, but when you pop it in the Mars-Venus translator, it all comes out the same.
** Song "Apologize" by Timbaland
This is what we call my cat's favorite toy, incorrect grammar and all.
Last Christmas, Santa brought Cali Kitten a small stuffed heart made of felt, attached to a piece of elastic, attached to a stick, and wrapped in green ribbon.
Now Cali generally loves to play, but nothing has ever compared to her love for the Bestest Toy In The Whole World. The day after Christmas, I began finding small tufts of stuffing around the house, only to discover Bestest Toy's heart was now hollow.
The next day, the heart was not only hollow, but the middle of the heart was missing, and it was now a shapeless piece of felt hanging from elastic.
As the year has progressed, it resembles a couple small scraps of felt, with several knots, evidencing the many times we have performed delicate surgeries on Bestest Toy. Still, Cali loves it. She guards it fiercely from Lilith, Dog of Wonder, and frequently drags it behind her, stick and all, meowing, alerting us all to the fact that she's the mighty hunter, and of her conquest over her prey.
So why is this toy so beloved? Why this toy, and not the various toys in the animal toy box????? She has many other toys on elastic and sticks, and we have since tried to find replacements as Bestest Toy is well on its way to being loved to death.
I have no answer for you. It just is. But then, love is just like that. We can't explain it, we can't capture it in our hands, we can't see it except through acts evidencing it, proving its illogical existence.
Yet love is a basic human need, right up there with breathing.
Except for perhaps love for a child, and in my case, chocolate -- which was love at first bite -- it's nothing instantaneous, or at least shouldn't be.
And love really isn't something that can be attained by sheer will or a demand to be loved. It just is, or it isn't. We all know we can't make someone love us, as hard as we try.
I know a year or so back, when The Secret was so popular (which I personally feel was a pop, over-simplified version of the laws of attraction), I had callers determined that if they just sat and were totally determined to make someone love them, it would happen.
Of course it doesn't work that way.
Is there a solution or a cure for love? Yes. It's called time, and, unfortunately, pain -- and a pint of Hagen Daaz.
If you want love, be lovable. No, I don't mean giving your all to someone who isn't giving back. But just like the old adage, you have to be a friend to have a friend, you have to love to be loved.
Ask for love. Noooo, don't go up to your dude and say, "Love me, please." Ask the Universe, ask God, ask your guides, your angels, ask the air.
Don't say, "Make Dude love me." Say, "Bring me love." I get many arguments and foot stomping on this one, callers saying, "But I already know who my love is!"
And I tell them, "If it's him, you win. If it isn't, he will be replaced by someone better and -- guess what -- you win!"
I think the saying is true, a life well loved is a life well lived.
YOU so deserve it. All you have to do is stop holding so tight to what isn't and open yourself up to what can be. Illogical, perhaps, but so is love.
There are so many forms of love, from romantic love, to family love, love of self, which is your first step, to, yes, inexplicalbe love for a ragged little toy (thankfully, Cali hasn't mastered the art of reading yet, so shhhhhhh, don't tell her I said that).
So I'll continue to piece Bestest Toy back together as best I can without question. After all, if Cali can inexplicably love something, just because it feels right to her, why can't you?
Meow.
We hear it everywhere, "Do you want to be happy?" "I want to be happy." "I'm just not happy." "Everyone else is happy. How come I'm not happy?"
Happy, happy, happy. Happy, schmappy. Some days I think if I hear that word misused and overused one more time, I'm going to -- hmmm, scream is soooo cliche -- I think I'll go punch out one of those little smiley faces.
Nobody walks around happy all the time. If they tell you they do, they're lying - with the possible exception of Hugh Hefner on Viagra. In the world of Laurie (yes, sometimes a sick and twisted place), satisfaction is where it's at.
Am I satisfied with my life? Do I like where I'm living, what I'm doing and who I'm loving? Can I spend time alone and be perfectly okay? Can I find satisfaction in fulfilling my responsibilities, even though at this moment, it might not be what I prefer to be doing?
If you can answer yes, you are satisfied with yourself and have attained a sense of peace, peace within. To me, happy comes in spurts, moments, occasions -- after a great call on Keen where I feel I made a difference in someone's life, a good laugh, a delicious piece of cake (chocolate, of course), being proud of my daughter, or just the simplicity of feeling warm and loved.
So often lately, I've noted people reaching for the elusive happiness, and not feeling the satisfaction and peace with what they have in the N-O-W. If only they had money, love, a house, car, whatever, THEN and only then, will they be happy foreverafter.
I spoke to someone a while back who was unhappy because she hadn't met "the dude." So we looked at her life, and we found that she was at a truly good spot in her life -- a good job, liked where she lived, precious pets she loved to death, family nearby, and plenty of friends to do things with.
But no partner to share it with. Now it's pure human instinct to want to be loved, so of course it would be a lie to say she didn't desire that. But really, life wasn't so bad. She knew bad. She'd visited that dark place a couple of times in her last relationships. And that dark and angst-filled place was one she learned a lot from and had left far behind, with no desire to revisit.
But at the moment we spoke, she didn't care. She said, "One bad apple spoils the bunch," meaning, "I'm so taken up with what I don't have, it's spoiling everything else. Because, after all, 'everyone else' around me is happy."
This brought to mind a conversation I had a lifetime ago when I first got married, when a coworker said to me, "What's the best thing about being married?" I got this warm and squishy feeling inside and replied, "Someone is there, all the time."
Then she asked, "Okay. Now answer this one -- what's the worst thing about being married?" After thinking about it, I said, "Someone is there, ALL THE DARN TIME!"
And this point was brought home by my daughter the other day. Going into her senior year in high school, she's facing the daunting task of doing college applications, her senior thesis, and her entire future. Frustrated, she whined, "Mom, I wish I could just go back to elementary school," not realizing in elementary school, she was chomping at the bit, anxious to grow up and experience the freedoms that come with age and responsibility instead of enjoying the carefree life that only exists in childhood.
And what an exciting time of life she's at now, with so much yet to unfold!
My point is, there is "good" and "bad" in everything, every phase of our lives.
So to my dear caller, and those of you just like her, just work on peace within, satisfaction with yourself. Just because Mr. Dream Dude isn't here right now, doesn't mean you can't enjoy your freedom. Soon enough, you will experience love, with its joys and its sorrows.
Soon enough, you'll have someone you'll have to compromise with, to think of and to take into consideration. You won't be able to leave that wet towel on the bathroom floor or wear those granny panties when all your clothes are dirty. So live on the wild side, throw the towel on the floor, eat pickles for dinner, watch a chick flick and cry -- ENJOY.
And let me give you a little hint: There is nobody on earth more attractive to others than someone that is confident, secure and satisfied within. If you can attain that goal, you'll be a dude magnet.
Let's go swimming!!!! Which pool would you like to swim in, the wading pool or the nice double Olympic-size pool (and I'll even throw Michael Phelps in the mix)?
Now I'm sorry to say, the little wading pool belongs to the women of the species, although we have a multitude of pools, small though they may be -- say about the size one might find in Barbie's Dream House.
Now the Man Pool is immense, one huge pool, where a dude can do the breast stroke (pun intended), and do laps till he's all worn out, or swim in circles for years before he's back at the beginning.
Now of course I'm talking about the pool of available prospects.
Let's use an example. Say you're a beautiful, accomplished, educated, professional 40-year-old female doctor. Who are you going to date?
Although the world may be teaming with available dudes, women tend to want someone they consider on their level or above. While the poolboy may look good, and may amuse you for a while, you tend to want an accomplished, educated, professional dude that you can relate to.
Although these days age isn't as much of a factor, we usually tend to want someone around our age or older. When we are presented with younger dude, issues arise regarding appearance. Face it, sadly, our society is so appearance-conscious, it takes an extremely self-confident woman not to worry whether dude either is or will be dissatisfied with her appearance as she ages. I get the calls to prove it. And strangely, the women are far more stressed about it than their younger dude is.
The dude of our fair Dr. Maiden's dreams will tend to be her equivalent or above in all categories.
Now grab your water wings, and let's take a dip in the dude pool.
This time, let's make it Dr. Dude, with the same parameters, hunky, accomplished, educated, professional. Who does Dr. Dude want? You could drown in his dating pool!
Just like Dr. Maiden, his world is also teaming with available prospects, but here's the dif: in his case, he's inviting them all in -- with scuba gear, no less. He's got everyone from the 20-year-old receptionist who barely graduated high school to the 40-year-old doc down the hall.
The part that sucks is, it's his choice. Does he want the nubile, young receptionist, or Dr. Maiden, our heroine in this story, who he can communicate on the same level with?
Now before we go changing his name to Dr. Pig, these women aren't exactly resisting his charms, or his money. And after all, we do have the same choices, however unsatisfactory they are to us.
Part of it is also genetics. Dudes are much more prone to pick a young, beautiful woman than we are to pick her male counterpart. Why? It's built into their, ahem, homing device to find a woman of the species to who can produce good, healthy junior Dr. Dudes, just as our preference is to seek out a good provider.
So what's a girl to do? Absolutely nothing.
As unfair as it seems, I wouldn't change a thing. Do I want to spend my life with the poolboy? Nah. Poolboy might be a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
Keep your standards high, and don't ever settle for less than you deserve -- nothing but the best for you, baby!
Due to several requests, I'm reposting this blog from several months ago.
How could he not love you? After all, you are the most beautiful, the most loving, the nicest, kindest and most generous woman in the whole wide world!
Think of all you've done for Mr. Dude. You make yourself available every time he calls, even if your job or friendships suffer. You build his ego and constantly tell him how wonderful he is. You cook for him. You buy him little gifts. You send him loving notes. You let him know that he is stud of the world, a man among men, and only his joy stick can satisfy your playstation. Perhaps you're even giving him money or supporting him.
You've turned yourself into quite the gymnast doing all those back bends. You've become so proficient at jumping through burning hoops, you're considering supplementing your income by hiring yourself out as a circus dog.
And yet . . . you're not getting the result you desire. The Dudling is not recognizing the wonders of you like he did in the beginning, so you, sweet little Dudette, decide to step it up and do more.
But it seems instead of helping, you're becoming more anxious, more fearful, more angry and downright resentful. After all you've done for Dude, not only is he not appreciative, but he seems to be pulling away from you. Doesn't he owe you after all you've done for him?
Now stay with me here and keep breathing. The answer is no, he owes you absolutely nothing.
And why is that, my little stalker chick? Because he never asked for ANY of it. You did it all by yourself. In fact, it may be making him not only feel bad, but emasculated and decidedly undude-like.
I mean sure, the first hundred e-mails were cute and charming, but for every one he answered, you sent 20 more. Woe is you at this point if you should send him a message that actually needs an answer, because your cute little cards and letters have ceased to be special or cute, and he's considering sending your mail to its own very special folder. I think he called it SPAM.
Why, oh, why? You're doing too much.
Let's look at it this way: Do you like it when you owe people? What if someone loaned you some money and they kept accruing interest so fast that you couldn't keep up with it?
Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable about it and them? Natural human tendency is to avoid that which makes us feel bad. So do you really honestly want him to feel like he owes you?
Let's use another example. It's Christmas and you have a choice between spending it with your Aunt Alberta or your Aunt Cementine.
Aunt Alberta sends you $1000 every year. She loves you desperately and she makes sure you know how much she misses you and lives for your visits. She's been so great to you, but it seems you just can't do enough for her, and you know if you don't go see her, she will cry; and if you do, it still won't be enough.
Aunt Clementine never sends you a damn thing. She loves you lots, and would be absolutely delighted to see you. But really, she's too busy having a good time to cry if you don't show up. Aunt Clementine is happy and busy, and you can walk in the door with a present, or just bring yourself, and she'll be delighted to see you and you know you'll have a great time.
Who would you rather visit? And who would you rather be, an Aunt Alberta or an Aunt Clementine?
So my best advice to you? STOP. CEASE. DESIST. N-O-W.
Stick with me here. No, you didn't hear the phone just ring and that unknown caller wasn't him, just a telemarketer. And even if it was, it wouldn't hurt you not to be available. In fact, it might even be a good idea to be busy -- for real even.
Let him do some work. That's what you wanted in the first place anyway. If you change your behavior, his will change, too. With the dudes of the species, actions speak louder than -- well, than your pointing at everything you've done and making him feel like an unappreciative dolt.
Think of it as your Universal Metamucil. If you want regularity from his end, then you have to stop overcompensating and start putting in an equal amount from yours.
We all want to win, every one of us. And nothing tastes sweeter than victory after a long-fought battle.
But sometimes I find, somewhere along the way, we took our eye off the ball and let it become all about the fight and winning rather than the prize.
Let me give you an example. Say you met a dude (you knew this was where I was heading, didn't you????). In fact, this dude is so charming and romantic and everything about him is simply perfect -- well, except for the fact that he's been quite honest with you, he doesn't want to commit. He's Slippery Dude!
Or take the example of Married Dude. Married Dude loves you, wants to be with you, thinks you're an angel dropped straight from heaven into his lap. But, he's Married Dude.
Oh, how you want Married Dude or Slippery Dude. Your life would be perfect, if only, sigh, you two could be together. You would do ANYTHING -- and I mean ANYTHING -- if only you could have this man.
Love is not enough (it never is), nor are the good times you spend with this man. You must WIN!
Your life revolves around this goal. Yes, you get discouraged. Yes, you lose hope. Yes, you cry, you hurt, but you can't give up. After all, your goal could be right around the corner, the summit might be right around this next bend on the mountain trail. You can't stop now!
Now along the way, spending time with Dude, you might have noticed a few warning signs. Maybe Dude drinks too much; maybe Dude is lying to you; maybe Dude hurts you consistently and doesn't care; in the case of Married Dude, maybe he is far more concerned about keeping his wife happy than hurting you; maybe Dude has cheated on you; maybe he puts his friends first; or perhaps Dude belches, farts, scratches, eats with his mouth open or chews tobacco and spits - all over your new couch. Pick one, doesn't matter. You get the idea. Things that under normal circumstances would be a deal-breaker for you.
Except in this case, you don't care. After all, once he's with you, you'll get him to stop drinking. If he's cheating, he won't because you'll be his permanent sexual fantasy. Is he a wuss when it comes to his wife? Oh, you'll put a stop to that once you're in control. In fact, all this will disappear once you have him.
None of it matters - all that matters is that he's yours and you WIN!
So let's say you win. Yep, you've finally won this fabulous prize among prizes!!!!! Congratulations. You've won your heart's desire and now you will be off to live the life you've always dreamed of.
Your life is perfect! You two will spend every night in bed sipping champagne and have mind-blowing sex until you can't even function. Except . . .
Every time he takes a sip of champagne, he belches - in your face. When he tells you he's going to the bathroom, he slips out the back door to go hang with his buds. When he tells you he has to work late, he comes home smelling of perfume. Oh, and the ex? She hasn't taken defeat lightly and he's even a bigger wuss around her than when he was with her.
It's like you've been competing in Dude Olympics and after years of training, not only didn't you get the gold, you got the tarnished tin.
What the hell happened? Absolutely nothing. He's the same person he was before, but somehow, it's exceedingly disappointing.
The problem here is, you took your eye off the ball. Your quest became more about winning than the prize.
You fought long and hard for a man who would never have gotten a second date with you if he had been offering himself up on a silver platter.
You accepted less than you ordinarily would have just because Slippery Dude looked so much more attractive because he was a challenge.
Everything you've been imagining with this Dude, all the daydreams about what he is and what you two can have, well, let's take a big dose of reality. You've been looking at a life with him filled with lollipops and sunshine, and a huge rock on your finger the size of Rhode Island. But in reality, things aren't going to change just because he's with you or just because you want them to. All those irritating little things will now be yours -- fulltime yet! He's not James Bond. He's just a regular guy.
Do you honestly think a serious disease like alcoholism is going to simply disappear because you want it to? Do you think he'll stop being totally self-centered when you snap your fingers? Do you really think he's going to stop lying just because? These are all the things that make him who he is.
And poor Slippery Dude. You've led him to believe that you love him, just as he is. All those irritating little habits? Oh, you've giggled when he farted, pretended belching in your face was cute, forgiven him anything, lying, cheating, stealing, hurting you. You've led him to believe you're the perfect woman who will accept him exactly as he is.
Now? Not so much on that, Dude. You have to change immediately! We're starting out on our perfect life, and by the way, I mean MY perfect life, not yours.
Why not keep your eyes open in the first place? If a guy says they can't commit, or tells you in the beginning that he's a douchebag in any way, shape or form, believe him. He knows himself better than anyone, and he's warning you.
So what's the answer?
There are plenty of Decent Dudes out there. A deal-breaker is a deal-breaker, period. Keep your eye on the ball, and make sure the prize you're fighting for is something worth having, maybe test the gold along the way, take a big bite to make sure it's solid, and not just gold-plated.
Be realistic about yourself and in your expectations of others. Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it. Nobody's perfect and the world we're living in is not perfect.
Ahh, well, the only perfect world I dream of anymore is one where chickens are free to cross the road without anyone questioning their motives.
I've been pondering something lately and I've found myself on yet another quest as to an explanation. Not surprisingly, it involves the brain of the dude of the species vs. ours.
Say Susan and Martha are on the phone chatting, when Martha's Dude beeps through on call waiting. What happens?
Duh. Martha will suddenly cut Susan off mid-sentence and exclaim giddily, "Oooooooh, Dude is calling! Let me call you back." Susan totally understands, and says excitedly, "Oh, go take the call!" Susan takes no offense whatsoever, and hangs up and goes on with her day.
Surprising? Not in the least.
Now, let's switch things up a bit.
Martha and Dude are talking on the phone. Susan beeps in. Martha looks at her caller ID, says, "Oh, Susan's calling." Dude asks if she needs to get the call, and Martha replies in horror, "Oh, no, Dude. I'm speaking to you and you're my No. 1. I'll call her back later."
They continue chatting, when suddenly, Dude's best bud beeps in. Dude exclaims excitedly, "My BDF (best dude forever) is calling. I gotta go!" and drops Susan like a hot potato to his oh-so-much more important call. They might only be discussing beer and throwing pizza at the ceiling -- but he'll do it to you every time.
Martha, indignant that she isn't Dude's reason for breathing, is offended. Now getting back to Susan is top priority so she can whine about Dude's behavior -- and we hope against hope that Susan is not on with her Dude or she won't answer.
"Susan! Dude would rather talk to his BDF than me!"
The truth? Martha's right. He would (okay, except back in the very beginning of the relationship, but refer to my blog "He's Been Abducted By Aliens" to explain that one).
For some reason, women put men first, but men put men first. Why is that?
Now some of you may remember a saying my grandmother used to quote me: For a woman, a man is her whole life; but to a man, the woman is just a small part of his. And generally, I find this to be true.
Women tend to identify themselves with love, who they love and who loves them. They'll give up friends, jobs, houses, whatever it takes, in search of and in support of love, even when it's to their detriment.
Men, they identify more with work, success, how in control, how good a provider they are or would be. They looooove time with the guys. Dudes make dudes feel very dudely. And they don't have to worry about drama or the feelings stuff. I refer to it as Testosterone Time.
Seems we haven't evolved that far away from the caveman mentality -- provider and dependent -- which is very odd in today's society since, by and large, all of us are working and the master of our own domain.
But frankly, I think Dude has something here. Who was with you before love came along, and who will be there after it's gone? Your friend. Who is there to support you when something goes wrong? Who will pick you up when you fall and tell you how great your ass looked when you landed on it?
Dude stays loyal and makes it a priority to make time for BDF, while we'll sell our friends down the river in a hot second for Dude.
So really, which one of us is a few clowns short of a circus?
You be the judge.
Okay, so we've all heard both factual and urban legends about people that just mysteriously spontaneously combust, haven't we? I tend to be a worrier, but I'd tend to worry more about a piano falling on my head than spontaneously combusting. It's extremely rare, but it can happen.
I had a completely different subject in mind for today's blog, but I suddenly had a spate of calls involving relationships where the person wanted more -- but they wanted it to just spontaneously combust, or heat up, with no fuss, no muss, no work, no words, just change. Sure, it happens, but it's extremely rare.
I mean, honestly, how many dudes spent their Sunday afternoon peering into their crystal balls in the hopes of finding out what your true wants and needs were? I have never seen mechanics in the NASCAR pit changing the driver's crystal ball. And the little ball that they're hitting through the grass is not made of crystal.
And the other question is, why should Dude O' Your Heart be trying to fix a relationship that to his knowledge isn't broken? He's satisfied, and you're not complaining. I think that's even rarer than spontaneous combustion.
The only relationship I've even seen dudes so diligently and spontaneously trying to fix is the one between themselves and their remote control, changing the batteries in record speed before the last quarter of the game starts.
Are you doing the friends with benefits thing? Let me ask you, is he even being a friend to you, and who is the one benefitting from this?
Now I don't have a problem with people doing the friends with benefits thing, as long as they're happy and satisfied with it. But one of the problems with the dudettes of the species is once we enter into sexual relationships, emotions quickly follow. I don't care how many women tell me they're just in it for the sex. As a conservative estimate, 99 percent of them are lying.
On the other hand, a large preponderance of the holders-of-the-remote members of the species (although in their defense, far less than 99 percent) think sex without all the responsibility of relationship or emotion is grand. And if you're willing to give it, he'll gladly accept it.
If someone came up to you and said, "Hey, do you want a free Starbucks latte," most of us would say, "Sure! Why not?" While it's a disturbing thought, it is an apt analogy.
Does he know you want more or are you just obliging him to show him how wonderful you are? Are you afraid to ask for more for fear of losing him?
Please note: You don't have him now, so really, what are you going to lose?
My advice is first, figure out what you want. No, not just with Mr. Unaware Dude, but in your life. Do you want marriage, a live-in, just someone to be share time with? Of course we already know you want it to be him, but just for argument's sake, for right now, generally, what do you want?
The second question is, if you can't have it with him, are you willing to accept this forevermore? Would you be willing to share your dream life with someone different (and I realize it's unfathomable now, but Different Dude isn't Worse Dude, he's just Different Dude -- most probably Much Better Dude since he's willing to give you what you want).
Now we've established what you want and recognize you're not getting it from him, what's the next step? The next step is a doozy. You have to wake up from the dream that he is going to just spontaneously combust.
First of all, give him a chance. Let's turn Unaware Dude into Aware and Able to Make Decisions Dude. Open your mouth and talk to him. You know what you want in life, and here you have a guy you'd love to attain that goal with, but in order to get from Point A to Point C, you have to go through Point B. B is still the second letter of the alphabet, it hasn't spontaneously combusted either, and you can't skip it.
You have to take a risk. Yep, in order to attain any kind of success, you must first set yourself on fire. Open your mouth and tell him what you want, such as, "I like you and enjoy spending time together. Coffee, a movie, or a conversation that goes past "Oooooh, baby" would be nice. I'm having difficulty just exclusively having sex with you."
And of course you have to realize that he may resist. He probably likes things the way they are, or he wouldn't be doing it. He may be terribly shocked that you don't.
The problem is, he may not want what you're suggesting. He may choose to walk away for a while, he may choose to walk away forever. It is a risk, and one you must be willing to take if you want to gain anything, like, say, self respect, at the very least.
But as the saying goes, "He who spontaneously combusts is a real hottie." No, that wasn't it. It goes like this:
The biggest risk in life is not taking one.