Am I old or do I just look professional..?

Got a new job.  Just went from a contractor to perm at dot com.  So, I was walking around looking at some of the perks I get for working at a dot com.  We have a break room w/ a pool table and foosball, of course, Nintendo Wii hooked up to a huge-ass TV, and a free gym.  (And, people wonder why I like working on the web.)  I went to find the gym and the ladies locker room.

I walk into the ladies locker room and there’s this chick in there brushing her teeth.  She looked confused so I told her I just started here and was just checking out where stuff is.  She says, “Oh, congratz.  Who’s your assistant? Sheri?”  In my head, I’m like, assistant?  I don’t have an assitant.  Outlook’s my assistant. 

Then yesterday evening, I’m walking from Hollywood & Highland to this free concert down the block.  The Chinese Theater was having a movie premier, so the sidewalk was closed in front of the theater.  But, it looked like maybe you could still walk across.  So, I just kept walking down the sidewalk.  When I get to the security guard, there’s a bunch of annoying tourists in front of me.  I must have had a perturbed look on my face or something because the security guard says to me, “Oh, sorry, ma’am, right this way,” shoos the tourists out of my way, and was going to let me walk right into the movie premier.  

When I looked at him confused, he finally asked, “Oh, who are you with?”  I stupidly said, “I just want to walk down the sidewalk.”  He says, “Right, right this way to the entrance; who are you with?”  Me, still stupid: “I’m not with anybody; I just want to walk down the sidewalk.”  He finally realized I didn’t belong there and said I had to walk around.

Geez, I’m an idiot.  I should’ve played along and gone to the premier.  Should’ve said where I work.  He would’ve let me walk right in.  Stupid, stupid, stupid…

But, why do people keep mistaking me for someone who has an assistant or who should be allowed to just walk into movie premiers lately.  Weird.

Past Lives

Ok, so I read a lot of crap on the internet – that’s been established multiple times over.  Sometimes I read stupid astrology sites and whatnot.  Whatever, it’s mindless fun.  There’s two I tend to read the most and a few weeks back both were having free readings over the internet for your karmic past lives – one based on your astrological chart and one based on a tarot card spread. 

(Note:  This is not a psychic hot line thingie.  They’re just websites you punch a bunch of info into, like clicking on random tarot cards from a graphic of a deck or punching in your bday and place info.  I’m not going to listen to a wacko babble about this shit; I’m not THAT crazy.)

The freaky thing is both readings were eerily similar.  It’s been a few weeks now, so I’m trying to remember what they both said.  According to my astrological chart, I was given “gifts” in a past life, most likely things such as “charm, charisma, power, and money, ” that reqired a certain amount of “responsibility” and needed to be “paid for.”  That it was more than likely that I was male and more than likely possible that I abused those gifts, using them to take advantage of people.  That I am now karmicly reaping the consequences of those abuses.  And that, I now have to pay the piper for both my gifts and my abuses of them.

The tarot card site said that in a recent past life I was most likely male.  That I had superficial and frivolous relationships, often ending those relationships for apparently no reason and with little observable warning.  That I tended to believe gossip and hear-say about other individuals without getting to know them and form my own opinions … or discover the truth about them.  And that, I tended to jump in and out of relationships – and bed – with said individuals. (Huh, sounds a lot like what I just did a few months back over a certain someone who’s name begins w/ W.  At least, that was favorable hear-say, although not who he really is, I think.)  Lastly, that I tended to base my relationships on surface level attractions, rather than deep emotional connections. 

For the present, that I now had to work on my superficiality and temperance.  That I had to work on forming relationships based on true emotional connections and not surface level attractions. Lastly, that I had to work on forming lasting relationships. 

This is all strangley resonates.  I’ve always said I was pretty sure I was a guy in a past last life.  Not that I want to be one now.  I can’t even imagine how annoying and frustrating it must be to have a penis.  Don’t want one at all.  Kinda sucky prognosis, but at the same time it all kinda makes sense, too.  Yay!  Just peachy!    Just what a girl wants to hear.  Hopefully, I’m making progress from this past.  IDK sometimes.

Negative Reinforcement Behavior Modification

*Sigh* I’ve still got that voice in my head; although he’s getting quieter.  I was actually sad about that the other day and thought I will miss it once it’s gone.  Regardless, I am determined to stop these irrational ideas (as Em so kindly pointed out that they are) in a rational manner. 

(Oh yeah Em, my craziness is from an overactive imagination, not from being emotional.  I’m not really all that great in at getting in touch w/ my emotions and don’t really like to do it … ever. My last shrink pointed this out repeatedly. So, you can’t really ask me on the spot, catch me off my guard, to suddenly tell you how I feel about someone.  That would require feeling and fantasy is sooo much more fun.  My whole problem in a nut shell – the world in my head is so much better than the real one.  Just call me Walter Mitty.)

Right, enough peddling crazy …  My rationale for stopping my irrational behavior …  I put an elastic around my wrist and every time I think about what’s his face, talk in my head to what’s his face, and/or otherwise daydream about what’s his face, I SNAP the elastic against my skin.  I’m starting to get welts.    My forearm looks like the bare back of a teenager caught spitting on a public street in Singapore – caned.

I was hoping my Italian acquaintance would keep my mind off things, since he called me twice last week.  Alas, no. I was super busy last week and the Italian has given up that easily.  No calls at all this week.  I’m not really interested in a guy who gives up the chase quite so quickly.  Jumping for those guys is what gets me in trouble in the first place.  So, no, l’m not gonna go chasing him if he can’t even wait a week for my social schedule to clear.  Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. 

I have decided, though, that there are 2 Italian acessories I woman needs to own at least once in her life: shoes and a good looking man.

Time to go.  Next blog I need to write about the 2 past life readings I had from 2 different websites that were both eerily similar.

Web Dev the Voice in My Head

First day of new job.  Couldn’t really do anything because when I came in, IT still hadn’t set up my computer, even though the Sr. Editor had requested it a week prior.  By 11am, they set up the physical desk top, but not any of my network login’s.  So, still a no-go.  A bit of a blessing in disguise, since I wasn’t slammed with both new info and work this first day – just overwhelmed with all the procedures and ops, etc.  And, boss man had me sit with everyone on the team one at a time throughout the day to get a better picture of the job and the department.  A nice way to ease into things.

Which brings me to the Web Developers.  One’s kinda cute, but looks like his mama dresses him.  (With web dev, she actually might, ya never know.)  Seriously, white safari shirt, khakis, and some sort of hiking boot like shoes with white socks.  Ugh.  And before anyone starts reprimanding me on how the geek boys could be nicer because they never get female attention and maybe he just needs a make-over, trust me, they’re not.  I’ve dated enough of ‘em, I know.  They’re just like the players, but with bad wardrobes and even worse social skills.  Not to mention, he implied, of course, that databases one day should be able to replace all tech writers.  Ya, ya, the geeks are nothing like the average guys.  At least, players are good looking – something pretty to look at while they’re offending you. 

*Sigh*  I’m doomed.  Watched “Be Kind, Rewind” yesterday.  (I love Michel Gondry!)  There was a line that stuck out for me.  Alma says to Mike [Mos Def], “They say if you talk to someone in your head for more than 20 minutes a day, you’re in love with them.”  DOOOOOMED, doomed, I tell ya.  I’ve a new voice in my head.  That I can’t get out of my head.  It’s been there for sometime, so I guess it’s not really new.  It’s been there through liking other people and I kept trying to switch to the other guy to no avail.  I really hate it and am not used to it at all.  For years, that voice was one of my ex’s – for like 16 years.  It’s never changed before.  The ex’s voice has gone silent before, when things were going well in a long-term relationship, but it always came right back when things went poorly.  So, it’s really upsetting that it’s changed completely.  *Sigh* doomed.

STAYcation Week

Received some good news a week ago this past Friday.  I got the temp-perm position I’ve been vieing for, for a month, and the one I really wanted.  It’s starts tomorrow.  Although it’s rather a long commute, it is temp to perm.  So I guess if I hate it, I don’t HAVE to stick with it.

So, I decided this week that I would have a STAYcation - vacation at home.  I’ve been going out almost every night all week.  So exhausted now, I feel like I need a vacation from my staycation.  Staycation started that first Friday that I found out about my new gig.  Worked on art projects all day and went to The Ramones tribute in the Holywood Forever cemetery that night.  Met a strange guy from San Diego who used to be an engineer and gave it all up to be a Process Server.  How very “Pineapple Express.”  Then, I went to this cajun festival in Long Beach, which was awesome.  Great zydeco music.  Everybody was gay, as usual in Long Beach, but it was still tons of fun.  Danced until my legs hurt.  Monday I had to chill and run tons of errands – massive grocery shopping day.  Tuesday is regular girls night.  Drank champagne and ate strawberries in honor of my new job.  Wednesday, more errands and got myself a mani-pedi.  Then, took myself out for sushi.  Thursday morning took my drug test for my new gig, had a picnic lunch in the park, more errands, got my hair done, and went to an awesome party at Amy Yasbeck’s house.

Met some cool people at that party and even some d-list actors.  Met David Faustino there who has some very, very cute friends.  My friend got invited by him and his friends back to the Beveryl Hills hotel for drinks at the bar, so I met her there, too.  Met and exchanged numbers with a very cute Italian guy named Ivan (pronounced Yvonne).  He may not have really been Italian and the accent may have been fake, but it was totally fun.  While talking to Ivan et. al., every time someone new would ask if he was from Los Angeles, I would interrupt and say, “No, actually Pasadena.”  Yeah, he’s from LA, with that accent.  (Although, it was probably totally fake, he probably really is from Pasadena.)  Even got a sweet and flattering text from Ivan asking if I got home ok. 

Mr. Faustino’s, as the hotel staff kept calling him (Isn’t it weird when people actually call you Mr. or Ms. ..?  One of the things I could never get used to teaching, at least, not from my colleagues.) business partner was even better looking (blonde!), but common-law married.  I kept trying to convince him to truly marry his 9 year girlfriend for the betterment of society.  Or simply because I say so.  But, I don’t think he was buying it.  Totally amusing and enjoyable conversation with both gentlemen, though. 

A certain producer’s son who works as a party promoter, was at Thursday’s party, too.  He remembered me from his last party – a Mathew McConaughey themed beer-pong tournament.  I know, sounds like a bad, frat house idea, but it was actually so much fun.  It was way more fun than I thought it would be.  I can’t wait for their next party.  Apparently, the beer-pong party was videotaped for promotional purposes and Connor (the party promoter) says I’m all over the video.  PEACHY!  And, he posted it on his company’s website.  FANTASTIC!  I hate being on camera, even still photos, and usually try to avoid such fates.  Well, at least, I made an impression.

Between the Italian guy, the business partner (harmless flirting in his case), and the party promoter, I haven’t had this much fun flirting since high school.  Or at least not since I first moved to LA and made-out with everybody.  Probably won’t ever see any of these guys again, but that’s probably what makes it fun.

Which finally leads me up to the weekend.  Saw The Faint perform Friday at the Music Box and it was AMAZING.  The lead singer is incredibly sexy, which I never realized.  He wore goggles on stage almost the whole time, which was strangely hot for some reason that I can’t quite put my finger on.  The pictures online and on their albums don’t do him justice.   We were not too far from the stage and they looked and sounded awesome and .  Way better sound than when they were at Coachella.  The sound was so bad at Coachella, I felt guilt-ridden for dragging Shauente over to their set.  Am totally missing The Faint albums I made Mike take back.  I should replace them. 

Unfortunately, there were quite a few bimbettes and their frat boy bf’s there. *Grumble, grumble,* more pictures of themselves in the middle of the show, with flash and everything.  Seriously, do these types of girls ever go to a show to actually see whose on stage?  Or is it just to take pictures in the dark with their drunken boyfriends?  The bf’s were just as bad, too – moshing to The Faint.  WTF!?!  Hey, this isn’t a Metalocolypse episode, jackass.  Go home and watch Adult Swim.

Lastly, yesterday, Saturday, went to a pool party at some new friends/acquaintances apartment building.  Party lasted way longer than I expected and turned into a night of everybody talking about life, relationships, politics, etc.  Which was great, but very heavy.  Learned that even when I think somebody’s the nice guy type, I still pick the wanna-be player (as always).  J & Y, you’re supposed to tell me he’s a wanna-be player BEFORE I hook up with him – so that I won’t. 

But seriously, it’s without fail; I always pick that type even when I think I’m not.  Even Connor.  He’s actually a mutual friend of a friend.  We go to his party.  After said party I mention to friend that I think he’s rather attractive, and she’s busts right out with the, “He’s not the boyfriend type. He always says he doesn’t want a girlfriend.”  Right, yup, did it again.  Go to a party, flirt with several guys there, but the one I like is the wanna-be player, of course. 

Which leads my to my next post.  See you later spacecowboy.  (And, yes, of course I have a crush on Spike, too.  Galactic wanna-be player.)

Bright Flashes and Ex-bf’s

Why is it that bimbettes feel the need to to take pictures with a flash of their boyfriends while at a show?  Specifically musical shows.  Seriously? 

I went to the Johnny Ramone tribute thing last night.  They showed a Ramones concert from 1988 outside in the cemetery.  Probably the closest I’m ever going to get to actually seeing them perform, considering 75% of the band is dead.  I didn’t really have a plan before going and I didn’t even bother to invite anyone until I was already at the cemetery.  Whatever, I decided I was just going to go.

Yeah, so I’m out by myself and who do I see seated about 10 feet to my right, but my ex.  (I think.  To be honest, I’m not sure and I wasn’t going to confirm it one way or the other.)  Yay!  Why does this shit always happen when you’re out by yourself?  And, he’s with some skinny blonde chick.  I got a look at her face though, and she looked old.  He’s old and he always did like women even older than him.  Fine, whatever.  The old blonde chick can have his impotent ass.  (Yeah, that impotent allusion’s not a joke.)

Here’s the really annoying part though: In the dark, WHILE the Ramones’ concert is playing, she keeps taking pictures of him WITH A FLASH.  About every 30 seconds or so there’s a bright flash in the dark off to my right, totally distracting, and then followed by a long pause filled with the blue-tinged glow of the camera’s view screen as they, “Oh, my god, just have to look at how the pictures came out.” (Yeah, I know he looks like Ed Norton, honey, but c’mon now, it’s The Ramones.  PUT THE CAMERA DOWN.)

What makes some women think that this kind of behavior is ok?  It would not be acceptable in a movie theater; what the hell makes them think it’s acceptable at an outdoor concert.  I noticed the same behavior from the bimbettes at Coachella, too.  Yeah, it’s always the bimbettes.  The normal and the cool girls are not idiots and know better.  Besides, the normal and cool girls are not there to take pictures of their boyfriends.  They’re there to listen to and see The Ramones, like I was.

Not to mention, their boyfriends are not the main attraction.  The attraction is up on stage, bimbette; turn around!  Especially of it’s an f’ing legend.  You don’t take pictures of boyfriends when Roger Waters, The Ramones, The Clash, The Stones, etc. are playing!!!  And why the f’ are these guys putting up with this behavior, too?  Once upon a time, I thought my ex knew better, too.

What’s with all the Jesus Freaks?

So, I’m supposed to be going to church tonight, but I think I’m going to go to the movies instead.  I’ve had a day and I want salad and margaritas at El Torritos, before seeing Hellboy II.  Oh yeah, for those who know me well and are still gasping at the church mention, yeah, I wrote church. 

I’ve been going to Mosaic at the Mayan Theater.  Which is this touchy-feely, new-agey “gathering.”  Yes, dear friends, they call it a “gathering,” instead of church.  Although, I get dissappointed each week when no heads roll, cut off by Katanas or Claymoors.  (If you get that…  Ha, ha, you’re as big a geek as me!)  Sometimes, I like it…  sometimes.  I like it when the reverend discusses DesCartes.  I like it when the reverend discusses pragmatism.  I like it when the reverend discusses Hindi proverbs.  Only drawback, WHAT’S WITH ALL THE JESUS FREAKS?

Yeah, I could REALLY do without the weekly bible reading and the constant mentioning of Jesus…  And the love of Jesus…  And the light of Jesus…  And making your life one with Jesus.  Seriously, folks, since when does the wisdom of DesCartes, Hinduism, or plain old pragmatism ALWAYS have to link back to Jesus?  Ok, I’ll give you DesCartes; he was a hardcore Catholic freakazoid.  But, can’t philosophy be discussed simply because it makes sense?  Isn’t that the very definition of pragmatism?  Following the simplest answer that makes the most sense.  (By the by, pragmatism or “Practical Wisdom” is the current 6 week theme at Mosaic right now.)  Can’t people follow and think about doing good without it being because God told you to or because Jesus loves you?

Which is another reason I’m not going tonight.  I’m sick of all the Jesus talk.  I’m an agnostic and even if there is a god, I’m not convinced it’s perfect, omnipotent, or omniscient.  The Hindu idea that all the gods are really aspects of one being/creature, including all the “evil” or more accurately destructive gods, and that all the gods are just different sides or peices of that one being really makes way more sense to me than the Judeo-Christian ethic.  So, if Shiva and Vishnu are really all just sides of one being (Brahmin) and god can have the ability to destroy or even be “evil,” then god’s not perfect.  If it’s not perfect, it can even make mistakes. 

The nature of any supreme being is most likely dual like that, just like human nature.  Which harks back to the old testament and the whole “created in his image” thing.  If god did create people in “his” image, that image is most likely a metaphorical one.  That god created people to have the same dual nature it does and the ability to do good or evil.  Just like it/him/whatever you wanna call it. 

It’s hardly a new idea or one that’s in the minority.  Hinduism is not a far cry from Buddhism or most of the ancient polytheistic religions.  If that many people agree upon it, it’s most likely true.  Whoever that socioligist and economist is who wrote Blink, and other sociologists, have pretty much proven that get a large group of humans to agree, and their answer is more often than not the correct one.  Not mob mentality or groupthink; that’s a rather different sociological phenomenon, where the majority of the group stops thinking independently.  But, get a group of people together and thinking independently and 9 times out of ten they’ll come up with the right answer. 

The guy who wrote Blink used this example in a radio interview: If you want to guess the number of jelly beans or candies in the jar in one of those contests at a fair or a party or something, poll everyone around you for their answers.  Even if the majority of the group doesn’t know the Calculus to mathematically figure out the correct number, which given a group of Americans is probably a safe bet that they don’t, the number most often guessed by the group will be the most accurate answer.  Even more accurate than if you simply averaged everyone’s guess.  Supposedly, he actually used this game as a way to test the hypothesis, etc.

So, bearing in mind that the larger the number of independent thinkers, whom all agree on one idea, are therefore the most accurate…  Hey, Jesus Freaks, are you REALLY gonna argue with centuries of thought from ALL of ASIA?!?  That just doesn’t seem practical or wise.  And, if all those Buddhists and Hindus are correct, then one should do good, not because God says so or because Jesus loves you or from fear of going to hell, but because it simply makes the most sense to.

Yes, Virginia, in LA There Really is a Subway…

Hard to believe, but in this gas crunched time, I’m actually taking the subway in LA… sometimes.  Granted, only for social events, but I’m starting to wonder why I haven’t taken it in the past.  I took the red line downtown last Tuesday to the theater and today to Little Tokyo.  Between the two trips, I saved almost $15, according to the AAA data compiled by the MTA’s website on gas money, and $23 on parking ($20 for the Theater District downtown and $3 for Little Tokyo).  Figure in the $2.50 for each subway trip, and I still saved $33 in all.

Woohoo! Exciting social life I have right now.  But seriously, $33, that’s a fancy lunch out.  I needed to write this down, so hopefully when the economy gets better, I remember that taking the red line from NoHo to downtown is worth it.  Not to mention, the subway is cleaner and less crowded here than in New York or Boston.  Not everything smells like pee.  LA subway advantages abound.  Who knew?  Of course, still need your car to drive to the NoHo station, but the parking is free.

The Theater is Dead

Attended the limited engagement, return run of the 5-Tony-award-winning musical ”The Drowsy Chaperone” last night at the Ahmanson Theater.  This snoozefest, riddled with too obvious, outdated, unfunny jokes is what wins five, count ‘em, FIVE Tony’s nowadays?   Now before you go off about how of course it sucked; it’s a musical… I actually like certain musicals.  Certain musicals.  Not all.  And of course, most of the ones I like are old.  Thank god last night’s tortuous two hours was free!

My friend who scored the free tickets was equally unimpressed, so I wasn’t alone in my opinion.  Although, we may have been the only two in the whole auditorium.  This so-called play pandering to the closeted, luddite, septuagenarian and the lonely, delusional, fag hag sets actually received a standing ovation!  There’s no accounting for taste.  The show did make me laugh once or twice, but at moments when no one else was.  It was like the audience could only get the super-obvious, unwitty humor most pervasive in the show.

It was so bad, I was desperately waiting for intermission.  Despite the two glasses of wine before the show, I couldn’t wait to get another drink!  I was hoping that a little liquid lubrication might make the show bearable.  Ha!  Wasn’t I pleasantly surprised when after a string of jabs at tourists by the narrator (Oh, again, how original!  Yes, yes, everyone hates tourists.  Never heard that idea before.) and complaints about how intermission breaks one from the world of the show…  They skipped intermission!  Dear lord, save me now. 

In its defense, the gentleman who played George, or the best man, or whatever the character’s name was, was an AMAZING dancer.  His tap routine was the only good part in the whole fiasco.  He far outshown his younger counterpart in both style and ability.  Stole the show.  Too bad for him, I don’t know if sitting through the rest of the crap or the price of a ticket is worth it for only one great dancer.  The poor actors, for what they had to work with, they did their best.  The theater is dead.

Romeo, Oh Romeo, What for art Thou’s EIQ?

Emotional Intelligence Quotient, the new buzz word of the self-help and the talk show circuit.  I don’t watch Oprah or Dr. Phil, bet I’d put money down that one could make a successful drinking game out of how many times the term is bandied about on their shows.  People used to call it plain, ol’ maturity.

Alas, mine’s not very high or well developed.  I know that.  Something I’m working on, but from what I hear, it’s nigh impossible for adults to learn.  (Not impossible, but nigh.  I just like using the word nigh.)  Why, oh, why can’t it be equivalent or proportional to one’s actual IQ?  Ha, ha, too bad the lessons meant to teach us such things are supposed to come from our parents, I’m told. 

Yeah, I stopped blaming them a looooooong time ago.  Hey, telling me my parents were supposed to teach me this and that it’s 10 times harder for adults to learn… NOT HELPING.   I know I have arrested development.  It’s probably even in my medical record.  That much was established long ago.  Now, how do I fix it?  Besides, who doesn’t slip around on the sliding scale of maturity anyway?  Hell, you can even slide along that scale depending on the situation at hand. 

Well, in an effort to increase my EIQ, I had to give the, “Yeah, you’re really nice, but I don’t think we’re compatible,” speech to Romeo today.  Yes, his name actually is Romeo.  I’m not just making a literary allusion.  He kept calling and I don’t really think he’s really nice.  His EIQ’s gotta be way lower than mine.

First of all, the one date that I took him on…  Yes, I took him.  At the last minute, I was invited to an invitation only VIP design event that I didn’t want to pass up, so he was my guest.  He was a total fish out of water, but rolled with it very well.  Gotta give him credit for that. 

So during the design event, he buys me a drink.  I offer to pay for my drink, as I always do, because it’s polite to not assume the guy’s going to pay and at least offer.  Whether he takes you up on it, is his decision, but it’s polite to at least offer.  He scoffs at it and made some comment, so I mention that sometimes it’s better for a girl to pay her own way because then there’s no sense of obligation.  At which point, he smacks me on the ass and says, “Oh, you’ll pay for it later.”  

AND NO, he wasn’t being ironic or fascetious.  You’d think he would be after what I had just said, but I think my point flew over his head.  Well, uh, yeah…  Thanks for proving my point.  I made sure to buy him a more expensive drink at a more high end place later in the evening.  He was right; I did pay for it later.  I don’t think that’s what he had in mind though.

You’d think this behavior would be surprising, but the same phrase has crossed the lips of at least two other guys I’ve dated.  Twice now on first dates!  Really?  Seriously?  Some men still think this behavior is ok?  Or, do they think it’s cute?  It’s neither.

During the course of the evening, he also told me he’d like to be in the mob; he’s lazy and boring and barely goes out; and that even if he gets laid off, he refuses to collect unemployment because it’s a machismo thing.  Whatever.  Then, when he walks me to my car and I say good night: He tries to shove his tongue in my mouth repeatedly; whines and says, “Give me a real kiss” (Now, that’s attractive. Has that line EVER worked, guys?  Here’s a hint.  If a girl’s not kissing you back, it’s not because she needs you to tell her to.); and announces, “What?  Good night?  I thought I was going home with you to your place?”  Uh, no.

But, he kept calling.  And, I’m trying to work on my empathy, so I figured I couldn’t just leave him hanging.  He called this afternoon.  I called him back 30 minutes later when I had a sec.  He answered with, “Heather who?  Ohhhhh, Heather.”

Me: “Um, yeah, you just called me.”

Romeo: “Right, I forgot I called you.”

Uh-huh… okaaayyyy.  How many girls did you call in the last 30 minutes that you forgot which ones you called?  I give him the your-nice-but-we’re-not-compatible spiel and that I didn’t want to be rude and just leave him hanging.  He says, “Yeah, I kinda thought so, too.”  So why the hell have you been calling me three to four times a week, while I’ve been dodging your calls!?!  He tells me I’m really nice and fun and I wish him luck with some endeavors that had he told me about. 

Right, now I know random dates like this are supposed to be fun and boost your confidence, blah, blah, blah…  It’s always sweet to hear you’re a nice and fun person. That he thought it was cool that you got that invitation to that event and actually got him into GOA.  But, I just can’t get over the crap guys pull.  Seriously, why the hell was he calling me so much?  Just to see what he could get?  See if I’d change my mind and invite him back to my place a second time around?  How do you forget who you called and left a message for 30 minutes ago?  And, what if I HAD really liked him?  When would he have given me the hey-your-nice-but-no-go speech?  Or just stopped calling?   After enough time that my feelings would’ve been hurt. 

Yeah, I just don’t see the point to random dates like this.  I don’t need someone to tell me he thinks I’m really nice and fun.  Most women don’t.