I have a problem with a friend...

Yes, I do. 

I am afraid I did it again.

I made out with another one of my friends.

Gulp.

Really, Clumsy?

You didn't learn your lesson from Insecure Boy? 

Wow, you apparently didn't.

Kim and Clumsy Do Vegas

There have been a few times in my life when I throw caution, reason, and planning to the wind.  

Last weekend, was one of them. 

What starts as a let's get out of town for the weekend, turns into a "Let's wake up at 3am, leave at 4am, and get to Vegas in time to bet on the My Team vs. Your Team Game" weekend. 

So, after a Friday night happy hour at work and a cocktail at Kim's local Saloon (where the most hysterically geriatric and ridiculous band was playing techno Beatles), we decide on it.  We need an adventure.  A big one.  And it's starting in a few hours at 3am.

Brrrring. Brrrring. Hello?

Alarm goes off.

Clumsy somehow asks Kim if she's getting up for this road trip or what?  She does.

Next, thing you know, Kim and Clumsy rev the engine for a 4:14am road trip start.  

ipod:  Check

Clumsy's heinous taste in music:  Check.

Good conversation to block out the music:  Check (except when Kim starts singing, love ya darling)

Highlights:

Watching the sunrise over the mountains halfway through our trip.

A rain storm (it hasn't rained in soooooo long)

We arrive a touch before 8am and do a once over of the strip.  Where should we place our massive $10 bets?  Yes, you heard me.  We got up at 3am to place $10 bets against each other's teams.  

Kick-off is at 9:30am.  

And so is the start of 16 straight hours of drinking.

After quite the football game, my team loses, but I win the bet nonetheless.

We meet up with a friend after several (read 30+ each) ounces of beer.  He shows us around the town and we continue to gamble (cough, $10) and drink while seeing the sites.  Finally we clean up and head back out on the town.  Not an hour goes by where drinking does not ensue.

Out on the town we drink and dance.  Somehow we survive without so much as a scrape. 

We did manage to break Kim's work computer...yes we did.

Good times.

On Sunday, after our drive home, Kim tries to convince me to finish the weekend the same way it started, with a beverage at the local Saloon.  

"No, Kim, I can't.  SOOOOOOO tired."

"No, Kim, I can't do it."

"Nope, Kim."

"One beer.  I'll go for one beer."

And that my friends, is the beginning and the end.  One beer.  

If you'd like...

So, we have this hilarious security guard at work. He's pretty young, but he's a bigger guy. I'm pretty nice to him, I always say hi, but I don't really go above and beyond that.

The funny thing about him is, he steals from the vending machines. When we had that earthquake a few months back, I wasn't sure if the shaking was an earthquake or the security guard getting free stuff from the vending machines (we've caught him in the act before). If he would just ask, I would lend him the money! But seriously, it's so hilarious.

Well, today, I grabbed lunch across the street by myself. Walked back and grabbed the elevator. He ran to catch it too.

Slow elevator. Silence.

Slowest elevator ever. Silence.

So, here it goes:

Clumsy: Geez, it is hot out today.

Security Dude: Yeah, it's like a sauna.

Clumsy: Yeah, I was out there for five minutes and I think I am sunburned.

Door opens.

Phew. Relief. No more awkward conversation.

But, wait.

Security Dude: Um, hey, I was meaning to ask you, uh if you didn't have any uh, uh, plans this weekend, on Saturday, a friend of mine, a buddy of mine....

(can this pickup take any longer....)

One thousand one.

Security Dude: (continues) Um, like a friend of mine, um, on Saturday, if you're not busy, um, like a friend of mine he's like opening a porno shop, and um I don't know what you're doing...

(did he just say porno shop?...haha...what???)

One thousand fifty-nine.

Security Dude: (continues) just throwing it out there, but um, if you wanted to come, they're like having a live taping, uh, if you're interested.

(Uhhhhh....silence.)

Clumsy: Um, I am going to be in Vegas this weekend, but wow, uh, that sounds interesting.

I walk away slowly. Digesting what just happened.

WHAT JUST HAPPENED????

The worst, most disturbing pick-up line in the history of mankind.

Oh.

My.

God.

I just had to share it with you.

It's been a long time...

and I'm sorry. I'm so sad.


My internet went out.

Jim kissed another girl.

They started dating. Seriously.

I started moping.

I'm on vacation with my family now. Trying to catch my breath and trying not to cry.

It's been tough. What do I do? Move out? Live through it. Pretend like I don't mind?

Pretend I believe in love and guys again?

Maybe.

I have you.

I have faith in you.

And that's about it.

Seeing Sparkles

It's always a good time when some of the Sparkles get together.  Kim and I were preparing for Blair to come in town for a long weekend.  Blair is a recently married Sparkle who works in the ad biz in Chicago and she came out to the Best Coast for a Girls' Weekend!

Kim and I had a detailed itinerary which sometimes was followed.  Anyway, the weekend started on Thursday night at around 9pm.  This is how it went down.

Earlier in the day, I had emailed both of my roommates about going out with the Sparkles and me and both were wishy-washy about it.

Jim had gotten back from his trip abroad a few days prior and things had been a little off on our chemistry level lately. I was acting a little funny.  So was he.  We hadn't really spent any time "just us" since he got back and we DEFINITELY had not talked about it.  

After picking up Blair at the airport, we head to my beach pad for cocktails.  None of us had eaten and we decided to drink our dinner.  We pour adult beverages for my roommates too.  After a half an hour of "you're gonna miss out on some Clumsy stories,"  they were on board.  We took some shots and walked to the bars.  

This is where the trouble began.  First bar, we have really strong drinks.  Second bar, strong drinks and karaoke.  Third bar, we think there are both drinks and dancing there, but nobody really remembers.

At the second bar, Jim needed to close his tab and Blair and Kim ran outside with Chad.  We spend about 2o minutes flirt-talking (this happens a lot when you are in a flirtationship) and then everyone comes to look for us.  

At the third bar, we are on a mission to find the non-existent dance floor/secret bar. After two elevator rides to the same spot, we realize this is a lost cause.

On the way home, Blair decides she'd like to walk on the beach.  The walk on the beach turned into Clumsy and Blair racing to the ocean while Kim and Jim take pictures.  Blair wins, I touch the water with my feet, and Blair decides to go for a little swim in the ocean.

I run back to Jim and grab his arm as I put my shoes back on my sandy feet.  He leans in...and then I see Blair and Kim running back.

We walk to my house and take naps for the whole night (or for 5 hours or something).

...did I mention I had to go to work in the morning?

Blair+2CaliSparkles+Beach=GoodTimes

The Silver Lining?

So....the day after. 

The day after the kiss.

I wake up at the crack of dawn.  I couldn't sleep.  I am so giddy.  So, I make good on the promise I had made Chad's girlfriend.  I told her I would make her pancakes since she had to get up early to go to an appointment.  

So, I do.

I make pancakes early in the morning.  This gives me some time to think about things (aka panic attack ensues) and rationally decide what will happen.  How am I going to act around him?  Will we talk about this?  Is he even ready for this?  He made a pact that he isn't dating for a year...does he really like me? 

Okay, in case you didn't notice.  I am a total girl.  Insert stereotype here.

Chad's gf wakes up and eats some pancakes.  Then, Jim comes down from his room.  He eats some pancakes.  We hang out a little in the morning.  I go for a run.  He runs errands.  We take pictures of some items around the house for a project for his big trip.  I mention I think I bruised my back.  He apologizes.  Oh yeah, being pressed up against the balcony and the kitchen counter...

I pack for Kim's house.  We are doing a little high school get-together with some of our friends down at her new place.  I leave.

Kim's party turns out to be a little more wild than originally planned and I end up spending the night at her house.  I promised Jim I would take him to his drop-off point in the morning so I wake up at 6am to drive home from Kim's.  I shower, get ready (to go straight to a bridal shower at noon), pick up breakfast at McD's grab Jim.  

I drop him and another trip-goer off and say farewell. I give him a big hug and we joke about the Silver Man.

After the shower, I head to the mall, then back home to take a nap on the couch.  At 9pm, I wake up and go into my room.  

It is there I see the Silver Man, hanging onto my headboard for dear life.  He didn't take it on his trip.

I cry.

Then, I check my email.

Hey Clumsybear,

It felt really great but...I feel really guilty about...

I am not ready....

I care about you but....

You've become such a great friend...

I don't trust my own feelings...

I wanted to say sorry before I left....

-Jim

That was the gist of it.  I am a sunken soul.  

I call Daphne and cry a little more.  I write my too-nice, sell-out reply back:

Jim,

I feel guilty that you feel guilty...

I liked making out but wouldn't want you to do anything you didn't feel okay about...

Yada Yada Yada. I'm a sell-out....etc.

-Clumsybear

The Silver Man sits on my dresser, head hung low.

The Silver Man

My sister Daphne is smart, sweet, funny, and dresses to the nines.  She works for a large, high-class company known for top-notch brands and high prices.  Her expertise knows one limit, the art of gift giving.

Daphne, love you darling, but last Christmas was a crap shoot.

I got a small purple wallet-thingy.

 A board that you can draw on with water and then it disappears (it's cardboard and an expensive alternative to the Etch A Sketch, but not as fun).

And a 12" tall articulated silver man.

I think I did an okay job of pretending that I really liked the gifts, and I took them back to the Best Coast graciously.

So, when Daphne and Lori came to visit, I thought I should take the little statuette out and put him on display.  Hence, The Silver Man.  

Lori was kind enough to tell Daphne it was a weird gift, and we laughed about the little man for a little while.  We also told Daphne she didn't have to listen to her boss when it comes to getting gifts for the whole family.  Nor does she need to buy them at her place of employment.

After Daphne and Lori left, I couldn't find The Silver Man anywhere.  

Later that night, Jim said, "Clumsy, do you know where I found The Silver Man?"

"Nope, not a clue."

Jim:  "In the fridge.  I found him in the fridge."

I burst out laughing.  My sister and I totally have the same sense of humor.  Hiding funny things around the house, little pranks like spiders in the bed, they are the BEST.

"My sister and I kind of have this thing about hiding things in funny places.  Glad she finds the humor in her weird gift."

"It kind of looks like an Oscar."

"That's what it was good for til now.  I would practice with it in front of the mirror...I'd like to thank the Academy..."

"Nice."

I took The Silver Man out of the fridge and put it on the coffee table in the living room.  Over the course of the week, I moved it around (you can move the arms and legs), and put it in funny positions all around the living room.

Over the weekend (one week before the bumping of the foreheads), I decided to put The Silver Man on the ledge overlooking Jim's bed.  

Text message:  There is a silver peeping Tom in my room, Clumsy.  Think you may know him.

Two days later, I awoke with a fright.  I swore there was a knife in my bed.  Nope...The Silver Man...

Email to Jim.  Re:  I got some action...

...a small Silver Man was in my bed last night.

I put it in the shower we share, in the soap holder.  It got to see Jim naked.  Lucky.

He put it in my oatmeal.

I put it on the toaster, holding the bread, about to jump down a slide of noodles.

Then, The Silver Man disappears.  Disappears 5 days before the big trip and 3 days before the big kiss.

I'm thinking, I wonder if Jim is going to take The Silver Man on the trip abroad?  That would be hilarious.  He could take pictures of it all over in different parts of the world.  Kind of like a mascot.  If he takes it on the trip, he would be thinking of me...

********* to be continued *************

Clumsy Does Balboa

So, in order for me (Clumsy) to gather my thoughts for the next few posts (which should be interesting), I asked for the help of my good ole troublesome friend, Kim, to post for me.  This took place on the Friday evening before Jim arrived back in town.

************************

I have this box. No, not that box, it’s a comfort zone box. It’s not super small, but I don’t like to jump out of it often. Clumsy has been asking for a guest blogger for quite some time, and after hearing that I have a fan base (don’t let me down people), I couldn’t decline the invitation.

It’s Sunday evening, I just finished sailing lessons after a morning filled with laundry and another attempt to finish LAST MONTH’s book club book. I poured myself a glass of champagne, pulled out the chips & salsa and, kids, it’s what’s for dinner!

I was inspired in this moment, thinking about how great it is to be single. I got to wake up this morning, plan my day as I like and polish it off with a glass ‘o bubbly. My “man”, we’ll call him Timbo, eats two steaks when we grill. He lives on meat and potatoes. He’s a dude. But, he wouldn’t be down for chips & salsa and champagne. So, tonight, with my Timbo 3,000 (okay, 2,996) miles, I ask myself the question, what’s the harm in being single?

Then again, my options are limited. OLD MEN LOVE ME. Clumsy came to town on Friday. We polished off 3 bottles (yup, read that again…3) of wine AND THEN went out. We wore matching outfits, this we figured out on the walk to the bar. We were raring to see what the night had in store.

I live in this very quaint little neighborhood. There are a few young professional ladies like myself, and lots of sea dogs and even more retirees. The flowers are the size of your face and it’s lovely for a quiet night on the patio, but meeting eligible bachelors, not so much! Friday was going to be different.

This bar, they call the Village Idiot, is the only place for cocktails on the Island. We’ve met several nice old men who promise to take me on their sail boat to teach me how to handle the big guns, yes, this I fall for. They call, they stalk, they are not welcome! Then, we meet Dan the man. He’s relatively young, tall dark and handsome…and taken. No, as far as we know he’s not married or dating, but he has a following.

Clumsy and I keep chatting with this group of fellas, enjoying ourselves, when Blondie the Bimbo walks in. She tells Dan the man that she’s in love with him and he’s welcome any time. She’s not a catch, understand?

He tosses $40 on the bar and runs. His buds though, don’t leave without an empty sailing promise and my number. Sigh.

Old.men.love.me. So I ask you, to be single or not be single. That’s my question.

Bumping Foreheads...

Jim has been planning on going on a mission trip out of the country for months now.  I knew it was coming, a two week trip, and I was starting to get sad he was leaving.  That's two weeks of no flirting.  

Dang.

We both got texts from Chad's girlfriend on the Friday before he left, asking if we wanted to get drinks later (Chad was out of town).  I was hoping that I could spend the night hanging out with just Jim, but then again, I was trying to be non-chalant about this crush.  I reluctantly agree to meet Chad's girlfriend out at the bar, not knowing whether or not Jim would be attending.

I left the house at 9pm and Jim was not home yet.  I assumed he was packing for the trip and such.  Chad's gf and I order drinks and chat for a while...we are waiting for her guy friend to get here.  Her friend meets us there and brings a friend. A really cute friend.  Let's call him Brad the Hottie.

It's total nonsense if I don't flirt with this dude.  He's cute, smart, successful and funny.  But he's not Jim, and I almost feel guilty laying on the flirtitude.  I was telling stories and making him laugh.  Chad's gf was catching up with her college bud and it almost felt like a setup or something.  I mean, BTH and I really hit it off.

Chad's gf comes over to me at around 11pm and says, "I'm going to text Jim and tell him to come meet us."

I had no idea if he was coming or not.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jim, making his way through the crowd, beelining towards me.  He sees Chad's gf, gives her a mini-hug and then comes over to give me a hug...it wasn't as mini as hers was.

I swear, as soon as Jim showed up, BTH left.  He shook my hand and left.  He didn't ask for my number, he didn't say "hope to see you again," he just left.  Jim leans over and says, "Whoa, did I just kill your game there?  That dude gave me the worst look when I showed up here."

Clumsy:  "I didn't even notice...if he was really into me, he would have asked for my number."

Jim:  "Okay, whatever, but man, he gave me an evil look."

After a while, we hit the dance floor and we hit it hard.  It was funny.  Jim was only dancing with me and Chad's gf was dancing with her friend.  For a moment, I swear Jim was about to start grinding me.  We had gotten caught up in one of our sex talks again.

The bar closes down and we are leaving.  Chad's gf is in no state to drive home, so of course, we tell her she's staying at our house.  I was feeling bold once again and suggested Jim and I get cigars.  This time he gets more expensive cigars for us and we head home to the porch.

Chad's gf literally went straight to bed and Jim and I started smoking stogies outside.  We start talking about one of Jim's friends who is a real piece of work.  She's obviously into him and she is a few candles short of a birthday cake if you catch my drift.  She's pretty enough, but weird.  Really weird.  A couple months ago, she asked Jim to rank her after she ranked him an 8.  He did not ask to be ranked.  And he's a dude, so he does not realize you should never answer this question unless they are a 9 or 10.

Jim:  "I told her she was a 7..."

Clumsy:  "No you didn't....seriously?"

Jim:  "She asked my honest opinion and I told her the truth.  She's okay, but she's definitely a 7, Chad even thinks she's a 6."

Clumsy:  "Haha.  That is so bad.  If I am ever that needy and drunk and ask your honest opinion of how pretty I am...DON'T tell me.  Don't tell me EVER!  I don't want to know."

Jim:  (kinda under his breath) "Clumsy, I don't think you'd be really disappointed..." 

*Did Jim just try and tell me I am pretty?  Do roommates tell each other things like this?

We continue to talk about life and broken hearts and how hard it is to put yourself out there.

Our cigars are finished.  I won, my stub was shorter.

We lean out over the porch and continue to talk.  

Jim puts his hand on my waist.

He pulls me over to him and gives me the biggest hug.  One of those hugs that is not going to end because neither of you want to let go.

After about ten minutes, my heart is racing.  Holy crap, he is going to kiss me.  Jim is going to kiss me.

He pulls back a little bit, looks straight at me and then kisses me.  Kisses me for long time.  Pushed up against the balcony.  It was really passionate, seriously, it was great.  All this buildup, you'd think it wouldn't be all that I hoped for, but it was.

After our neighbor hollers at us, he grabs my hands and leads me inside.  We stand in the kitchen, drinking water, just talking.  He turns off the light in the kitchen, pushes me up against the counter and we make out some more.  It's somewhere around 3 or 4 in the morning and things are starting to get a little heated.

After one particularly passionate kiss, Jim pulls away.

Jim:  "Okay, I have to go to bed because I don't have an off button."

Clumsy:  "See you tomorrow."

Jim:  "Ah, I just made out with my roommate!  I made out with my roommate and I am not supposed to be dating for  a year. "

Clumsy: "Yep.  You ready for this?"

Jim:  "I don't know."

This is the part where we went to sleep in our own beds.  

Sweet Dreams.

Want a glass of wine?

I have learned that those five words are some of the best words I hear from the faux beau.  It usually means he wants to hang out and watch a movie with me.  Just me.  Me and nobody else.

I really like that.

It started out as a pretty eventful Saturday.  I went to get my hair done at the best place I have ever let lay a hand on my strands.  I have this Japanese stylist who only says a few things to me for the two hours I am there.  

Stylist: "Darker?"

Clumsy: "Yes, please."

Stylist: "Massage?"

Clumsy: "Yes, please."

She literally gives me a free massage with my color.  She never tries to sell me anything and she sits there and massages not only my head, but my shoulders and neck too.  It is the best money I have ever spent at the stylist.  Seriously.

I feel only slightly guilty that I am cheating on my stylist from my hometown.  I haven't been back home in a while and last time she dyed my hair so blonde, it was as dry and damaged as a haystack sitting on my head.

After the stylist, I went to Marshall's where I bought myself a dress and some soft, white towels. Maybe the purity of the white towels will make my roommate who shares a shower with me fall in love with me.  Holy crap, I am really this screwed up in the head.  I think of stuff like this and then blog about it.

Then, I went to the Ole Boss's house to clean up his disaster of an office for a few hours.  I couldn't wait to get home and relax.  It was my first weekend in over a month that I didn't have guests and wasn't traveling.  Then, I got a text from a quasi-friend (who knows Jim...and probably has a crush on him), asking what I was doing.

Quasi-friend:  "We're at the beach near your house, want to join us?"

Clumsy:  "Sorry, at work.  Have fun!"

Quasi-friend:  "At work on a Saturday?  That sucks.  You should come meet us for a drink after you are done."

Clumsy:  "Pretty tired, but I might be up for that.  I'll let you know." (aka nope, not gonna be doing that)

After I arrive home, unpack my new purchases, swing my newly dyed hair while staring at myself in the mirror, I get another text.

Quasi-friend:  "We're on our way to dinner and noticed your car is back.  Come join us!"

Wow.  Thanks for the guilt trip.  Be right there, stalker.

It's one of those friends that I get along with fine, but don't ever really hang out with unless I am in a group.  She's a little awkward and so is her friend, Quasi-Awkward.  Quasi-friend keeps on asking me to hang out with her and I am always busy.  I finally feel like I have to go so that she stops asking me to hang out (and stops walking by my house to see if I am home).

I see Jim on my way to dinner.

"Your hair looks great!"

"Thanks!"

"Where are you off to?"

"Dinner with Quasi-Friend and Quasi-Awkward...even though I am exhausted and all I want is a glass of wine..."

"Oh...man, that's a tough crowd.  I am going to go sit on the couch and watch a movie."

"Don't rub it in..."

I arrive at dinner to a full pitcher of margaritas and two giggling awkward girls who want me around to entertain them.  If I didn't speak, this would be the most uncomfortable dinner ever, but I am the Clumsy Chatterbox and I delivered.

I decide to drink most of the pitcher of margaritas because I don't want these girls thinking they can hang out/sober up at my place afterwards.  I had flirting to do later and didn't need any quasi-competition.

"I don't know if I can drive..."

"Two margaritas will do that to you? Let's go get coffee and I will walk you to your car.  I am pretty tired."

"Could we grab a glass of water at your place beforehand?"

"Sure."

Jim says hi to them, we hand them waters and I literally try walking towards the door.  They finally take the hint and I leave.

Jim: "Want a glass of wine?"

Clumsy: "Yes, please."

Jim:  "Good, I already poured one for you when I heard you coming up the stairs."

Clumsy: "You rock."

We start flipping channels and he stops on What Women Want...we totally watch it.  Two bottles of wine later, we find our conversation leaning to the more sexual topics.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, when he's pouring me another glass of wine, he turns out all of the lights in the apartment.  

We're sitting in the dark.  Just us.  Watching a chick flick.  Talking about sex.  Sitting on the same couch.

Clumsy:  "I love going to the salon, my hair always feels so soft."

Jim:  "Can I feel it?"

Clumsy:  "Yeah...sure."

Jim:  "Wow.  One more time."  (Yep, he went back for seconds.)

We continue our conversation flirting and continue to watch movies in the dark.  I have no idea what time it is at this point.  It was when we got on the subject of my sex drive and the fact I'm a Scorpio and well, fit the profile, that I could tell we were both thinking about making out.

Jim: "Maybe I shouldn't be sitting this close."

Clumsy:  "Haha. Maybe you're right."

Jim:  "I have to get up really early tomorrow.  It's almost 3am."

Clumsy:  "3am?  It's really that late?"

Jim:  "Time flies when you're having fun.  Goodnight."

Clumsy: "Goodnight."

Sigh.  

I like him so much.

The Almost Moment

...and so it continues.

Jim, Daphne, Lori and I head to the bars within walking distance.  It is about 11pm on a Saturday night and we are not sure how long the lines will be to get in anywhere.  There's a bar that we tend to go to whenever we go out, but it is not that often.

We walk past the shops and bars on the pier and head to a place where we can dance.  Better yet, people watch and then dance!  Jim insists on buying the first round and we graciously accept.  Keep in mind, we've already finished five bottles of wine between seven people and two of them had to drive home.  We've all had at least 3 glasse

s each.  

Better keep it light...aka I order a vodka tonic.  Nice going, Clumsy!

We grab a booth and the people watching commences.

There is a couple that is so funny, Jim and I imitated them while Daphne and Lori tried to get a picture.  The guy kept on getting in trouble for ripping his shirt off stripper style and the girl was wearing a tank top as a dress.  I could see her skanky thong...the dress did not cover her bottom.  Anyway, enjoy this.  We sure did. :)

It was after this that the bar closed down and we struggled to leave.  I was in a particularly bold mood that night and decided to suggest Jim and I get cigars.  We ask Daphne and Lori if they would like them too, but they did not care to partake in this shameless act of flirting.

Jim walks into the liquor store. "What's the most expensive cigar you have?"

Cigar Dude: "$50."

Jim:  "What's the most expensive $8.99 cigar you have?"

Me:  "Hahahahahaha."

When we all arrive back at our humble beach abode.  Daphne and Lori get ready for bed.  They come outside for a sip of a cocktail while we light up our cigars, but head inside after five minute.

So.....it's just Jim and me.  On the porch.  Smoking cigars.  Alone.

Did I mention I have never smoked an ENTIRE cigar by myself before?

After an hour of smoking, talking and drinking, Jim leans a little closer.

I can feel the tension.  This could be it.  He might try and kiss me...I can feel it in my gut....

And then the feeling in my gut starts to rise toward my throat, and I realize I am about to barf.  I say I have to go to the bathroom and I RUN.  RUN like the wind.  I puke.  Brush my teeth.  Go into the kitchen for a glass of water and there Jim is.  In the kitchen with the lights out.  We talk a little while longer, but I know the moment has passed.

But it was almost a makeout session.  Almost.

Such an almost moment.  Ever have one of those?

Delicious Dinner Disaster with Daphne and Lori

Daphne and Lori were still in town. Daphne, Lori and I were barely recovering from our Rager the night before. We spent all morning cleaning, then went to the weirdest breakfast experience in the world.

At breakfast, the waitress spilled all of our meals on the way out to bring them to us, a woman asked us if we would watch her children (sitting in her running car out front) while she peed (I thought we were on hidden camera...it was bizarre) and people kept on taking pictures of this dog tied to the front of the restaurant with the longest tongue I have ever seen in my life.

At noon, I get a call from my 80 year-old quasi-weekend boss...he and his wife kind of invited themselves down to my beach house for dinner. At one, we head to the grocery store to get all of the ingredients for our elaborate dinner that we were frantically putting together for the dinner arrivals. The menu: peppercorn pork tenderloin with sweet and sour sauce (from scratch), gourmet mac and cheese, green beans, and chocolate-oreo-coffee-heathbar ice cream pie.

Lori is the gourmand, and I only half believe her because she lives with my sister, Daphne, who likes to take the cheese off of her pizza and then dip it in marinara. Me, I'm a pretty good cook, but also extremely messy and a procrastinator...huh, fit my personality much? Daphne can cook really well, but doesn't like cheese...which poses a problem when mac & cheese is part of the main course.

Jim had just gotten home from his mini-vacation and Chad was working on his baby (an old fixer-upper car). Jim met my sister and then went straight to take a nap. Chad, after being covered in grease, decides we need to wash off the porch if we are having dinner guests. I told both of my roommates that they HAD to come to dinner because they would have a great time, but they were both trying to get out of it and not looking forward to it at all.

The boss calls to tell me he is on my way, but his wife should be there sooner...and I start panicking. The meat is not on the grill, the mac & cheese is not in the oven, the green beans haven't been cleaned, and the dessert was not totally frozen. Not to mention, we didn't have enough wine in the house. I also didn't realize they would be taking separate cars and I only had 1 parking spot available for them. Parking is tough on the weekends near the beach.

The boss's wife arrives 20 minutes early with a plant that looked like it was headed for a funeral. She brings one bottle of wine. Chad, in his car/grease clothes volunteers to follow us in Jim's car in order to find her parking about 2 miles away.

We get back to the house and Chad lights the grill. I put the meat on while Daphne is showering. Chad goes to shower. I wake Jim up. The Boss arrives. The sweet and sour sauce scarily looks like it has chunks of white chocolate in it. The Boss forgets to bring the 2 bottles of wine he promised - his wife is mad. Daphne and Lori walk to the liquor store for a couple more bottles. Jim walks to the Boss's wife car to get a bottle of wine out of her car. I entertain the Boss and the wife with the wine we have when Chad comes out of his room.

"Boss, Boss's wife, nice to meet you. Clumsy, two questions for you. Where are Daphne, Lori and Jim...and who's watching the meat?"

"S%^&!"

Chad saves the day on the pork. I remake the sauce. Wine arrives and life is good. Daphne and Lori pull off the rest of the meal without a flaw. We spend time on the porch eating, talking and laughing. Five hours and five bottles of wine later, the Boss and his wife have left and the five of us are laughing hysterically about the night and the Rager we had the night before. Chad puts on a slide show of pictures on his flat screen and we were going through all of the events.

Jim says, "Clumsy, we have to take Daphne and Lori out on the town. They've been in town two nights and haven't seen anything but our apartment!"

So, Jim, Daphne, Lori and I head to the bar....

...To be continued.

The Girl Who Wanted a BBQ But Had a Rager

Daphne was in town with her roommate Lori for the long weekend of July 4th. They arrived Friday morning at 7:30am and the weekend got off to a quick start. I had been planning on having a big party for the 4th, but I wasn't quite prepared for the melee that ensued. At 9am, I went for a quick run while Daphne and Lori grabbed some coffee and we were going to go to breakfast down the street. I had just hopped out of the shower when we heard a knock on the door.

I opened the door and found Insecure Boy standing on my front porch with two kegs and a friend of his.

No joke.

The party wasn't supposed to start until after lunch and it was not supposed to be a kegger.

So, Insecure Boy and his friend came in, put the kegs on the porch and tapped them before 10am. Yes, 10am. Daphne, Lori and I went to grab breakfast to go and then headed back home to my party. My party that unexpectedly started at 10am. We got back, made ourselves some cosmos and decided to join in on the fun.

By 1pm, Kim had arrived with one of her friends in town from Boston and so had Ali, another girl from my high school that lives in the area. There were about 15 people there at this point.

Next thing you know, we're playing flippy cup with the neighbors and getting crazy.

Hours later there is red, white and blue frosting all over the carpet and a hundred people in my home. Faux Beau was out of town and Chad was drunk and in his room. People were barfing off the balcony, showering in my shower, smoking weed on the roof, the kegs were dry and I could see strangers walk straight off of the street and into the bathroom line.

Thirteen hours after the party started, after a girl tried to kick me out of my own party, I decided it was time to get everyone out and say goodnight.

Kim and her friend passed out on the couch, the former roommate and Lisa slept on the blowup mattress, Daphne was sleeping in my bed and an unidentified male was sleeping in Jim's bed.

Definitely a success.

**afterword** When Insecure Boy was leaving (after I said he could stay but his weird friends had to go), he said, "I spent $200 on those kegs and you're kicking me out...you know, I contributed to this party and I should be able to have my friends here." ...ASSHOLE.
In the morning, Lori said, "Who came back in the middle of the night? I heard a girl and a guy talking in the middle of the night. They were sitting on the fireplace."
After speaking with the now identified person who had passed out on Jim's bed...it was INSECURE BOY and a girl. Insecure Boy had climbed onto my porch (on the second floor) and broken in through the door and then brought a girl into my house.

I think this means I can no longer be friends with him. I mean, really? Really?

Parents = Party

When I was younger, I totally thought my parents were uptight. Now that I am older, I still do, with a few exceptions.

My parents didn't splurge on a big family vacation until I was in 8th grade. I had never seen the ocean up until that time in my life. We had gone on tours of the Midwest though, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Minnesota...we'd driven there. My parents never took us out to dinner. We rarely went out as a family and most activities with each other were in the car, on the way to one of our weird vacations.

As soon as I came back from my first semester of college, something had changed. Maybe they saw how much fun other parents were having with their kids. Maybe they decided we kids weren't so bad after all. Maybe they decided they liked good food and wanted to share that with us. Whatever it was, it was GREAT. We'd all dress up and go to dinner. Our conversations weren't just "What did you do today?" or a criticism, it was light-hearted and yummy!

As time went on, my siblings and I grew to love these dinners more than even a nice rager at one of our friends' houses. Anyway, my parents started trying out the best gourmet restaurants with us and it became almost a necessity for a trip with the fam to mean, let's dress up for dinner and eat some good food.

When my parents came to visit me at my new place, that's just what we did.

They arrived on a Friday at noon while I was still at work. They went for a walk on the beach and stopped for Happy Hour at this trendy sushi bar. They TEXTED me to tell me how cool it was. Um, wow, my parents have never been this cool, EVER!

Friday night, we met my quasi-weekend-boss (an 80-year-old man who used to be somewhat famous) and his 60-year-old wife for dinner on the water. It was a 5-star restaurant. We were there for 3.5 hours and it was SO much fun, we couldn't stop smiling. Tourists came to try and get pictures taken with my quasi-boss and it was super fun.

Saturday, after the longest graduation ceremony (and most boring) my dad begs me to go to the supermarket. It was there I realized how much more cool my parents are now that I feel totally comfortable drinking in front of them. We bought handles of gin and vodka, a year's supply of tonic, and eight limes. It was 4pm.

They went to their hotel, got cleaned up, and walked over. Then, Papa Clumsy started playing bartender. Faux Beau was out of town, so he didn't get to meet them, but my other roommate, walked in the door to, "What drink can I fix for you?"

Kim and Andrew drove down to hang out with us too and it was jolly fun. We were pretty toasted by the time we started toasting around 8pm. We decided to walk to dinner down the street. Papa Clumsy says, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but if we're walking four blocks, I could use a cocktail for the road..."

Yep. My dad. Instigator of roadies.

Hilarious.

Overall, a great success. In the car on the way to the airport, Mama Clumsy said, "Clumsy, you know, we might not be as cool as the parents who can go out to bars and take shots with their kids, but I think we were a HIT this weekend! We were almost cool!"

I love you, Mom and Dad!

Aloha Awkward

It's been a crazy couple of weeks. It started off four weeks ago with my family going up to San Francisco to watch my little brother start his journey across America. He's bike-riding from the Golden Gate Bridge to Washington D.C. this summer. Totally wild, I know. The weekend after that, my parents flew in for the weekend (which I totally need to blog about) and I had my graduation from Fashion School (9.5 months after I graduated). Three days later, I left for Hawaii. On Friday, July 4th, my sister and her roommate flew in town at 7am for the weekend, I'm exhausted. And truly excited for a mellow weekend trying to flirt with my roomie. I'm thinking his new name should be Faux Beau? Thoughts?

But let's get back to Hawaii.

1. It was the best money I've ever spent irresponsibly in my life. I feel totally liberated that I stayed in and paid for a room all by myself. A nice room.

2. The weather was beautiful and I got a great tan.

3. My dress was killer. Faux Beau helped me pack. Which means I tried on dresses for him and he picked out which ones were the prettiest.

4. It felt like old times, but without the makeout sessions. I was "one of the boys" and had a great time catching up with everyone. The bride and groom had a lot of free time to hang out with everyone and that was really special. So many times, the weddings I sing in or go to are so stressful and jam-packed, you hardly see the bride and groom even if they are your close friend!

5. The mother and father of the groom kept on shouting, "Rekindle! Rekindle!" whenever I would talk to the Socially Slow Ex. He handled it awkwardly, but held it together. There was one moment when I think he was deciding whether or not he should kiss me, and then it passed.

Overall, the vacation was a success. I am so relieved to know I am not attracted to my ex and that I don't live in my hometown anymore. What an amazing weight off of my shoulders to know that I am truly happier here, doing what I am doing, instead of moping around with someone who doesn't even laugh at my jokes...

Socially Stunted Satisfaction?

A while ago I made the decision to go to Hawaii to go to a friend's wedding. The funny thing about this friend that is getting married is that I have been on a date with him. I went on one date with him and at the end of it, we laughed. There was absolutely no chemistry. However, we were such good friends that we stayed that way. I met him the first day of college and we've been friends since.

This friend, set me up with his best friend, whom I dated for three and a half years. Yes, here you have it, this is how I started dating Social Retard.

The wedding is next week and I am going back into credit card debt in order to travel to Hawaii to attend it.

I have never needed a vacation so much in my life. And this is going to be quite a vacation. Social Retard is the best man and there are only about 10 guests that aren't family attending the wedding.

I had a choice. I could bunk up with the ex, invite a date, or go it alone. I chose the final option, and it will be my first solo vacation.

With that comes certain implications. I am staying in a four-star hotel all by myself and my ex is staying on the same island. I have not felt the weight of a man on top of me in nine months...this makes me almost famished. I have promised myself that I will not be engaging in any adult activities that involve raingear for any below-the-belt parts.

Social Retard supposedly has a really attractive girlfriend who is not coming to the wedding. This makes me think that maybe this so-called girlfriend is no more. I mean, if you had been dating someone for over a year, and you were best man in the wedding, wouldn't you invite her?

I may be wrong, but Social Retard also called me to say he'd be glad to pick me up from the airport.

Am I in trouble?

Probably.

Trouble Moves to the Best Coast

Trouble, being Kim, one of the Sparkles, who just arrived from the East Coast.

For Kim and me, trouble tends to hang around like old people at Bingo Night.

It all started in high school.

Two friends, experimenting with alcohol. First, there was the conversation about it. We didn't want to get caught talking about drinking, so we used a code word. The code word being "steak." Most of our conversations went like this, "Well, the thing about steak, is you probably don't want to have just one bite, so you need to prepare to eat the whole thing. And make sure there are some complimentary sides (aka chasers) to go with it."

When you use such a funny code for drinking, you might forget to actually research how to drink correctly. And you might assume things amateurs would assume.

Clumsy: I heard that if it is the same color, you can mix it.

Kim: Yeah, I did too. And this way your parents won't even know we took it.

Clumsy: Top off the mug with all of the clear alchohol with that Gin, and the dark one with the whiskey. I have a 2-liter of coke for us to have too.

Kim: Okay, do you want to start first, or should I?

An hour and a half later, Kim pukes in a cup and then knocks it over. I, Clumsy McNasty, start to clean it up with my bare hands. You could say things got a little out of hand.

Next thing you know, Kim's parents are chatting it up with my parents upstairs while Kim and I are taking turns getting sick in the bathroom. Classic, absolutely classic.

FLASH FORWARD (ten years):

Kim arrives on the West Coast, buys an absolutely fabulous red convertible and we decide to get crazy over the weekend. After driving around with the top down (and burning herself silly) and drinking all Saturday on my porch with my roommates...we take ourselves to dinner. Well, we take ourselves to dinner after we walk back to get my phone and my wallet. We finally sit down at a restaurant bar and start chatting it up with the bartender and the men sitting next to us.

The bartender (Ken Doll) is extremely good looking and I flirt my way through the whole night. Kim starts chatting it up with an older man who is quite obviously having an affair with the female waitress...and with a guy who calls himself Joaquin Esperanza. After they closed the bar, and we were the only ones left in it, we drank more with the owner and Ken Doll. Ken Doll asks for my number and if I want to hang out with him.

I walk Kim home, put her in my bed, then met Ken Doll for a walk on the beach. We make out like high schoolers, he walks me to the door and kisses me goodnight and Kim is none-the-wiser. We laugh all morning about Joaquin Esperanza and how I made out with Ken Doll...

What a crazy night. And no, Jim only knows that a bartender asked for my number...nothing else. I must keep my mind on something besides my off-limits roommate...and Ken Doll was a good kisser.

Man, do I love trouble. Welcome to the Best Coast, Kim! I can't wait for all of the trouble we will get ourselves into out here!

Fake Dating 101: Lessons in Tragic Love

Since I enrolled in a class that I was totally not prepared for in terms of emotional commitment, I needed to step back and really pay attention in class. It was fate that made me part of this Friends-type roommate situation.

Maybe I shouldn't be in this class? Or maybe I should take a once a week class. Is there an accelerated version?

One thing's for sure. This isn't a bird course. I can't fly right through it. Well, not that it's not easy. This class is super convenient. And you shouldn't ever do anything just because it's convenient (except for carpooling because that is good for the environment). You have to have some sort of other motivation and interest in any course for it to be worth it.

What most people think is that I just have the crush because I live with him.

I thought that too. So, I started trying out other extracurricular activities (aka dating other people). I am totally not interested in anyone else. I really, truly don't think that I have the patience for any other men right now. You'd think that because I live with him that I would get annoyed at all of the weird quirks he has. I don't.

Lesson #1: When POI invites you out with his friends, definitely go (most of the time).

POI invites me to hang out with his friends all of the time. I go most of the time. I usually decide to go at the last minute so as not to pretend like I am constantly relying on him for plans. If I don't go, he always tells me his friends asked about me.

When I do go on these fake-dates, he always drives. I hate driving and I suck at it. He drives and we chat. We pick up food together, we ride together, but when we get where we are going, I am never needy. I make new friends. I laugh a lot. I have a genuinely good time.

When we were coming home from a party, he said, "That's what I love about you. You can make friends with anyone, you don't complain and I didn't have to entertain you the entire night."

Lesson #2: When POI compliments what you are wearing, always tell him it is just what you had to wear for work.

"That color of dress looks great on you, with your new color hair. I like the dark hair." (I know, I know, I dyed my hair AGAIN.)

I decided that even though I work in a casual office, that I should dress up every day. Every day can be a day where I come home to a compliment like that! This can backfire though, if the POI has plans on that specific day, you can wear whatever you want to wear.

Stay tuned for more tragic adventures in fake dating...although I might take a break to tell some other stories in between.

Fake Dating 101: Pre-reqs

I recently enrolled in a course I didn't even know I was taking. Scratch that, I didn't even know it existed.

I didn't even realize how out-of-control this whole thing had gotten until I looked back on the past few months. Here I am, loving where I live, possibly because I like my roommate so much. I don't know when exactly enrolled in this course, but here are the pre-requisites:

1. Hang out with your POI (person-of-interest) more than 4 times a week.
2. Have several things in common with the POI.
3. Have a sexual barrier in your life. Same goes for the POI.

1. So, Jim and I hang out all of the time.

When I first moved in, he wasn't around as much. He was out of town quite a bit, and when he was home, he mostly hung out in his room. I don't blame him, he didn't know me at all when I first moved into The Beach House.

The third weekend after I called The Beach House my home, Kim came in town. She drove up in her rental car and we hung out at my place with another high school friend and then we treated ourselves to dinner. Jim was about to go to a birthday party and I'm kinda into cards, so I gave him one for the birthday girl (I am one of those people who has a stash of Hallmark cards for EVERY occasion and they are organized by event).

We were sitting around having cocktails when he had to leave and he kept on saying that he didn't want to go because he was having so much fun hanging out with us. When Kim and I got home from dinner, we plopped on the couch and put in a movie...ten minutes later, Kim was asleep on the couch. Jim came home about 20 minutes later and we ended up talking until the wee hours of the morning. He told me about his divorce and we talked about life and how funny it can be sometimes.

When I woke up in the morning and Kim and I went to breakfast, she looked straight at me and said, "You can't have a crush on him, Clumsy. I know you do."

Shit, she can sure read me like a book.

Now, it's one of those things where it's almost unspoken. He worries when I am not home at a reasonable hour and I worry when he's not home. We sit on the couch, watch TV or a movie and talk, just about every work night. In the morning, I get ready for a run while he makes breakfast. He invites me out with his friends, I introduce him to mine. It's complicated in that respect.

2. We like the same TV shows. We laugh at the same, corny jokes. We are both too nice, but are working on being a little more assertive. We are both givers. We share the same shower, and we have his and her sides to it.

We both love music and play musical instruments. He's a drummer and I play the piano. And I've heard him sing, and it made me like him even more.

We share the same morals. We share the same taste in books. I just wish we shared a bed...

3. After the Insecure Boy incident and several terrible dates, I decided in February I was going to be abstinent for a year. I have had too many complications with sex and relationships and decided I need to start dating without even thinking about taking it to bed.

After Jim's divorce, he went through a rebound phase that lasted a little over two years. During this time, he bounced from one intense relationship to another. From what he's told me, lots of sex, lots of emotions, and it was a disaster. When his therapist told him he should take a break from it all, he decided that was a good idea. So, he's not dating for a year...and well, trying to save himself for marriage...

I will fill you in on all of the coursework and homework soon....

Ba-da-bing....Ba-da-boom

I fell off the face of the earth.


It hasn't been that fun...but here's the abbreviated scoop:

I became a quasi-vegetarian (I eat fish).

Kim is moving to the West Coast.

I never see my friends in the city...it's super depressing.

I work all the time and now have a phone that keeps me at it until midnight at night.

Every day is a date (when you have a crush on your roommate).

I am no longer speaking to Insecure Boy, but I am not sure he knows about this.

I might be going to Hawaii and will see the socially slow ex.

I am going on a date with a man 17 years my senior.

I am also going to try and start blogging again on a regular basis.

But I've missed you, OH, how I've missed you!

The Opposite of Cabin Fever

Lately I have been feeling like all I want to do is be at home. Or near my home. This is is kind of a new thing for me. I have always been one who loves to travel and explore the world with an eager heart. However, since I absolutely love where I live, it is extremely hard for me to leave it. The beach calls my name. The local pastry and coffee joint coaxes me inside to lattes with milky swirls and muffins larger than a softball.

I enjoy being home so much, I have been become anti-social. I make excuses for people to come to my home instead of their home. I bribe them with things like wine and the beach and "I'll cook dinner."

All of this, for the sweet, wonderful sensation of my fabulously scented candles (I swear they are are not tacky, cheap, french vanilla candles from Wal-Mart) and the porch overlooking the water. On the weekends, I avoid driving all together. I don't even like to waste the gas on something so needless on the weekends. The couch has a special spot just for my flat ass. My roommates sometimes have beers waiting for me. They kill spiders for me. They clean up the kitchen for me (well, they try, and then I clean up the rest). AND, gasp, they even put down the toilet seat.

But in all actuality, it's becoming a huge problem. I never have the want or need to leave. Everything is within my grasp. This whole "no man is an island" is becoming more of a falsehood each day that passes. I can get everything I need and barely leave the house.

All this, and well, another reason I love being home is because I am pretending to ignore the fact I have a huge, bellowing crush on my roommate. Ahhh. The plot thickens. Gasp. Whatever, you totally saw it coming.

It's Jim and he is totally off-limits.

Yep. Go ahead and tell me it's a terrible idea. It's not going to work. I'm going to get hurt.

You are absolutely right. This is torture.

Blogger. I've missed you, baby. Getting that off my large, E-cup chest sure felt great.

Later gator.

Life is Taxing

And I need to do mine.


Haven't started yet and I have eight different W-2s.


Can I groan right now?


Ugh.

Birthday Etiquette

So my roommate had a birthday over the weekend. The big one. At least for now. The big 3-0 birthday.

Friday, yes, Good Friday was the big day. We all went to dinner over the weekend. All equaling Jim, Chad, Chad's girlfriend, and Chad's cousin...oh, and me.

We went to a sushi dinner down the street and also had some adult beverages. I skipped lunch on Friday and it was a late dinner, so the adult beverages took a much bigger toll on me than they usually do. (That's code for I got really tanked on Friday)

We're all having a fun time and the bill comes. Suddenly, thirty minutes later, we are the only people left in the restaurant. I grab the bill because I can see the waitress wants to leave. Jim, the birthday boy, grabs the bill from me and tells me I can't pay for it. I say, "We're all going to chip in, it's your birthday!"

Chad says, "If he wants to pay, let him pay!"

Jim ends up paying for his birthday dinner and for ALL of us. I feel terribly about it. He wouldn't take money from me.

Then, we all head to a bar for drinking and dancing. It is super fun. Around 1am, my feet are about to bleed from dancing, and I realize Chad and his girlfriend are gone.

Clumsy: Dude, where did Chad and his lady go?

Jim: I just got a text saying, "Don't come home for an hour. We're screwing like rabbits."

Clumsy: You've got to be kidding me.

Jim: Nope.

Clumsy: They ditched you on your birthday and then left us with his weird cousin from Uruguay who hardly speaks? Wow.

Jim: And I met my ex-wife 6 years ago today. So, today kind of sucks.

Clumsy: Well, your birthday is officially over. Let's go home.

Jim: Yeah, let's go home.

Anyone else think Chad had some really poor birthday etiquette on Friday?

My advice:

1. Try not to let the birthday boy pay for dinner.
2. Don't ditch your friend on his birthday.
3. Don't pawn off awkward foreign visitors on the birthday boy.
4. Don't tell him you're screwing like rabbits when it's obviously something he won't be doing that night.
5. Be a nice person.

Patty Day Party

My new roomies and I threw a party on Sunday. Sunday Funday. Sunday before St. Paddy's Day.

I got up at 8am to start cookin' jello shots and making things like guacamole and sugar cookies and cheese dip. I told the boys they were in charge of the beer, the trash and the grill.

The kitchen itself...it's MINE. ALL mine.

Or at least I like to think so.

We only invited a handful of people. But seeing as we live on the ocean and have a two story patio overlooking the water, it came to no surprise at all that there were forty people on my porch.

Forty people and only about five that I knew firsthand.

Some of my friends were able to make the long haul here and it turned out to be a crazy day.

Here's a recap:

1. I had ten jello shots before people I knew arrived.

2. I had a green beer grin...I truly looked like the Joker from Batman.

3. I danced to Thriller practically by myself and there is a video of it floating around. And not a flattering one.

4. Chocolate bars were pelted across the room.

5. One of my roommates passed out 2 hours before the rest of the guests left.

6. We ran out of food, but I didn't get to eat anything all day.

7. At 9:15pm, there are 6 of us left, right after the THRILLER dance party, and the cops came. The music was off, and there are 6 of us. The cop looked around and didn't give us a ticket because it didn't even look like a party anymore! hahaha.

8. My phone is no longer working, mysteriously.

9. Flippy cup was played.

10. Woke up to 80 red cups scattered around my living room....whoops.


Overall, pretty good day. Which turned into a pretty good night.

P.S. Insecure Boy was supposed to show, but didn't. He sent a text saying, "Had a bad Taco Bell incident, be there later."

EW.

Two Dudes and a Beach Babe

I've been living in my new abode for almost a month. This month has FLOWN by so quickly. And my new roommates are awesome...but they might be as quirky as me.

Here's the scoop:

They are both engineers. They both say they HATE hanging out with other engineers because they are boring and only talk about work. I only half believe them because a lot of their friends are engineers.

They work out a lot and this is great motivation for me, but it also makes me feel like a chunker occasionally. And by occasionally, I mean almost every night when I slam back a pint of good 'ol Haagen Daz (aka my new boyfriend - Caramel Cone).

My friend Kim was in town a weekend ago and she told them I have a blog. Kim is moving out to the Best Coast and I am SO excited, I am going to forgive her for outing me and my blogging world. Well, that, and the next weekend I got really drunk and showed one of my roomie's my blog and I'm pretty sure he text messaged himself the web address. Whoops. So much for this whole "anonymous" thing...but I am still going to write about them anyway.

Jim - He's about to turn thirty. Poor Jim had a rough year. It involved a divorce, then a whirlwind romance, then a breakup, then a new start. He's given up dating for the next year and I sure admire that. And after all of the bad dates I have been having, I might jump on that bandwagon. Or not. I need some new material. Last weekend, Jim and I got really drunk with his ex from college (not the ex-wife) and it was interesting. I was able to pick his brain about all of this "baggage" and I really enjoy that kind of stuff. Gives me a little break from all of the chattering I tend to do.

Chad - He just turned thirty. He has a 22-year-old girlfriend or something. The first night I moved in, his "friend" came over to hang out and then I heard them banging in the next room. So loudly, in fact, that I went to the bar by myself with no makeup on and got silly drunk. However, this "noise pollution" problem has since been fixed with closed vents and the fact that I found my ipod. He grew up in Uruguay and speaks several languages, which makes him pretty interesting. He's a little bit more arrogant that Jimmy, but he's smart, funny and a little silly. He makes up words like hirarious and thinks they are hysterically funny. Good for him. He thinks he's funnier than I am. :)

Clumsy - I am the mother/little sister dynamic of the group. I feel like they totally would watch out for me. And, I feel like I can do all sorts of fun mothering things like Easter egg hunts and make mac and cheese and stuff.

We're having a party on Sunday and it's sure to be interesting. We will see how it goes...

Overall, it's a pretty good dynamic and we're all pretty nice. I love it. Best place I've ever lived.

Seriously. I am ridiculously blessed.

Did I mention I live on the ocean?

Bathroom Blabber

People who talk in public bathrooms make me SUPER uncomfortable. It absolutely drives me crazy.

It's already hard enough for me to go to the restroom in public places after my dad grew up telling me, "Never get a tattoo and never pee in a public restroom."

Thanks, dad. I'm super-neurotic already and scared to pee at work. Sometimes I spend HOURS crossing my legs in meetings holding it so I can go when I come home.

On this particular occasion, I drank a ton of coffee in the morning and absolutely HAD to go into the shared bathroom of the floor. We share it with a large, well-known corporation filled with a lot of overweight secretaries. I know, I'm rude like that, it's such a true cliche.

I almost RAN to the bathroom from the meeting. There are four stalls. I usually go for the handicapped stalls (having a fear of public restrooms IS a handicap) but I was in a major rush and had to go to the first available stall. I end up in the 2nd stall and have a person on either side of me. They are having a conversation and I am about to piss like a racehorse.

I am hoping they finish up so I can start to pee...I usually wait until everyone leaves, but I couldn't hold it anymore. I even took extra caution by putting a seat cover AND toilet paper on it.

While I am relieving myself, I can't help but listen to the ladies' conversation.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #1: My son, Bobby, used to call several times a week. Now I'm lucky if he calls once a month.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #2: I know, my son is the same way, but my daughter is much better about calling.

(Puff. Pbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbp. PHfuuart. Plop. Plop.) Insert gag reflex here.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #1: Ungh. Uh. (is she really having a conversation and pushing out a turd? EW!!!) I wish I had a daughter.

My internal monologue: Ew. Don't laugh. Don't throw up. Don't laugh. Don't throw up.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #2: Well, my daughter almost calls too much.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #1: At least she makes the effort.

OVERWEIGHT SECRETARY #2: (Poof. Pbpbpbpb.) Yeah, she does keep me up to date with all of her drama. Hahahahaha.


I'm not kidding, they were dropping deuces and still talking like nothing was plopping in the toilet. The smell was worse. And I can't post a scratch and sniff blog.

What is wrong with these people? It really pissed me off. Pun intended.

Are you a poop talker (one who makes phone calls while pooping) or a bathroom blabberer (one who makes small talk in public restrooms)?

Am I weird for being grossed out?

Paddy-cake, Paddy-cake, Baker's Man...

Dating is awkward.

Unless you're not awkward.

But I'm The Clumsy Chatterbox, and I'm awkward. Awkward, clumsy, and single.

I keep in touch with a lot of people from high school. The Sparkles, Insecure Boy, some other high school boys. If you're random and from my high school, we probably have kept in touch via facebook or something. I'm weird like that. And I was friends with everyone.

A high school friend and his wife came in town two weekends ago. They invited me out on the town and I met up with them. It was a mini-high school reunion and I saw several peeps I hadn't seen in a while. It was a lot of fun catching up with them. It was also pretty obvious they were excited to introduce me to one of their friends. One of their friends....aka...the Ridiculously good-looking guy (RGLG) I went on a date with over the weekend.

I play it cool for a while. Uninterested, hard-to-get, smart and witty. It usually lasts for a few hours before people catch on and realize what a total cheeseball I am. So, here I am, flirting with RGLG and I have all of my high school guy friends surrounding me, so I almost look cool. The perfect place for SUAVE Clumsy. SUAVE Clumsy only gets to make an appearance on very special occasions.

SUAVE Clumsy made an exit just around bar-closing time. RGLG asks if I am going home or coming to after hours at his friends' place. I say I am going home (I go to great lengths to sleep in my own bed) and he says, "So nice to meet you. Looking forward to dinner on Sunday." (We are all supposed to go out to dinner in a big group)

He puts up his hands like he is about to give me two high-fives. I high-five him, but he doesn't put his hands down. So, I kinda slap them again. Then, he kinda intertwines our fingers, I get confused, and he ends up shaking my hands up and down. Picture the body-shake scene from JUST FRIENDS, and you will totally know how awkward this was.

What's even more awkward is that I ended up on a date with him on Friday in which the following events took place:

1. A double-date with a 5th wheel. An engaged couple and RGLG's 22 year-old friend who drove us to the sushi restaurant and tagged along all night.

2. We went to a sushi restaurant in which the chef got drunk with us. Then, he and 22-year-old cracked eggs and put them in their beers and chugged them. Then, they put a whole egg in their mouth, chewed, swallowed and spit out the shell. No joke.

3. RGLG arrives at my place, calls me and tells me to come down to the car. His friend is driving. He doesn't get out of the car or open my door so I shake the friend's hand and get in the car.

4. The other couple tells a story at dinner that involved my date "boning a chick on the top deck while at Semester-at-Sea."

5. RGLG telling me about his ex who is an Olympic horse-back rider.

6. RGLG making me guess how many times he's been arrested. It was more than my guess of four times.

7. RGLG rode a unicycle.

8. The sushi chef thought I was dating the 22 year-old. I secretly wished I was too! He stole the show in story-telling.

9. When I got in the car at the beginning of the night, RGLG said, "You look really nice." and then his friend chimed in..."Yeah, you do look really nice!"

10. Insecure Boy's best friend saw us getting food, came over to say hi! and asked if he was one of my new roommates.

Don't know if Paddy-cake or the entire date was more awkward.

Needless to say, I totally sucked face with him. I mean, when else can I say, "Remember when I made out with the ridiculously hot dude?

And at least I now know why he's single.

You're really, really ridiculously good looking...

Have you ever dated anyone that you know is totally out of your league?

I mean, I'm talkin' SUPER attractive. One that you just know HAS to have something wrong with them? I mean, why would God give them such flawless looks and not a flawed something else?

He wouldn't. There's got to be something wrong with them. A deformity. A small wee-wee. A terrible laugh. A weird personality. A cat fetish. Something.

There's got to be SOMETHING...

...because I am going on a date with the most attractive man I have EVER seen in my life.

He asked me on a date. On a DATE.

I usually have a good sense of how I compare on the attractive scale to another human being, so just know, this dude is WAY better looking than me. I'm not bad looking, in fact, I am probably pretty, in some light...but this guy is outta my league. I am now THAT girl. THAT girl who is going out with a guy more attractive than she is. Will people stare? Will people say things like, "How did she get a guy like that to go out with her?"

Holy crap!

I'm already an uncomfortable person on dates. I get nervous and I laugh awkwardly. I'm clumsy...I spill things. I say things I shouldn't say.

Wish me luck. The date is Friday. What should I wear?

And I am scared to death I am going to say what I am thinking, "Wow, you're REALLY attractive. REALLY attractive. Wow."

It could be hysterically funny.

Cheers to finding his flaw....:)

Boob Grabbers.

They're everywhere. All around you. Just waiting to give you a nice, firm grab of the ta-ta.

They pretend to be your friends.

They think they are so funny.

They probably think they are turning on some guy.

They think they are totally worthy of the touch.

They think it is appropriate in any setting.

They hold nothing back.

Honk.

Honk.

Can someone please see how uncomfortable I am? Someone is grabbin' my boob and I still haven't gotten laid and I am so uncomfortable. Clumsy is a self-conscious little lady.

And even when my friends honk my horns....I am still uncomfortable. I'm not touchy-feely. I don't like cuddling. So, I don't like being fondled by friendlies. It makes me super nervous and say nervous statements and laugh nervously. hardy har har.

Boobs should not define me and neither should a little game of Tune in Tokyo.

I'm just sayin' what I'm sayin'.

Hairapy: The Best Remedy for a Broken Heart

I have a theory about breakups that involve your hair.

From my experience with breaking up, the best way to get yourself on the road to rebound is to change your hair. The next time he sees you, you should look different. You should look like a new person because you ARE a new person. A new person with a healing heart.

The problem is...hairapy is a little expensive. Because it must be done correctly. It must NOT be done by a discount hair salon next to Wal-Mart...or worse...IN Wal-Mart.

I have learned these lessons the hard way. I went to a beauty school for my first round of hairapy. And it was disastrous. Don't judge me because I had a Cruella DeVille 'do. Or a femullet. 'Cause I've destroyed the pictures and they were the result of some inexpensive hairstylists/Edward Scissorhands.













Since everything around me is changing, my job, my home, and my boy situation, I decided that I needed to also change my hair.

It's tradition and it is VERY helpful.

Here's the timeline of my hairapy:

After Black Eye Boy and I went our separate ways: BLONDE and I grew it out long.

After Social Retard and I broke up the first time: Accidental Femullet and "short bob" fix - Light Brown
















After Social Retard and I broke up the second and final time: Black and White Cruella Deville 'do.

















After HC and I stopped bouncing around town: Long and Dark






After the big "Insecure Boy" disaster: Short and Blonde











Now, single and ready to mingle, I dyed my hair brown again. A new start. A new singledom. One no longer plagued by HC (he's moving home). And one farther away from Insecure Boy.







The hairapy also helps because when you talk to your friends and they can't remember who you were dating at the time you can say, "Oh you remember Fred, when I had the bob? Or remember the femullet disaster...right after the Social Retard incident?

See how helpful this can be!

I'm telling you, I feel a hundred times better. That, and my hair lady listens and gives me a scalp massage that is to DIE for!

The Big Sellout

Okay, I have truly been MIA. I'm sorry. I should be back in the swing of things in a few weeks.

Here is why.

I got a new job.

I'm moving.

Here's why I am a sellout.

I have a job I love. I love the people I work with here. It is designing for a clothing company and it is my dream job. But in my dream, it paid a lot more. And that's why it can't be my dream job anymore. Because I need to eat. I need to pay the bills.

So. I got offered a job. Not designing. Still kind of in the fashion world. It pays double. Yep. Double. With full benefits, vacation, and a chance to move up.

It's about thirty miles south of where my current apartment is located. Chardonnay and I had this big plan to move in together and I ruined it. I am so sad.

However, I am sure she will come visit because I just got a place practically on the beach and I am so excited. I will be living with two straight dudes. Should make for really great blog material.

Wow.

Gulp.

I am really nervous and excited for the next few weeks. I start my job next Wednesday and move in a week from Saturday.

Then I will tell you all a really funny story. I promise. :)

Closer to Crazy, Farther from Happy...or is it the Reverse?

Update: I know better than to not leave the cliffhanger...so here's the story. Self torture was at its best on Friday night with Insecure Boy. Five cranberry vodkas and two drinking games later, Insecure Boy and I started....


...talking about sex. For two hours. But we never had any. Which means if you live on the West Coast, watch out. I'm still driving around town, horny as ever. And apparently not Clumsy enough to fall on top of his penis at the right angle or moment.

And to top it all off, I talked to HC today, for the first time in six months. He's moving back to my hometown and we're going to hang out before he moves home. And now I am starting to think, maybe I went about this the wrong way....or with the wrong guy!

Here's Chardonnay's birthday story:

I'm sitting at home. Moping. Just got off the phone with my dad and he was pissed. Could I have really told him it was my out-of-play vuh-j-j that caused the accident?

I need to be at Chardonnay's in 20 minutes if I am going to make it to her party. A cab all the way there is out of the question and it would take forever for a cab to go to Chard's. Feeugh.

I really want to go. I'm all dressed up. Screw it. I put on my coat. Take off my shoes. Put on some flip-flops. Grab my Hallmark card and walk out the door.

Yep. I mapquested that sum bitch and I walked to Chardonnay's apartment. I walked a mile and a half in 30 degree weather in flip-flops carrying my cute shoes.

I swear.

Chardonnay calls.

Chardonnay: Where are you?

Clumsy: (huffing, puffing) Um, I'll be there in five minutes.

Chardonnay: You in a cab?

Clumsy: (I am so embarrassed) What? Uh....I'll see you in five!

I get to Chardonnay's apartment and I am kind of tired. I just briskly walked a mile and a half after a car accident and had no dinner. I switch into my high heels and walk inside to the start of the party .

Chardonnay, Elle, and two others are already at the apartment. We make quick introductions. They pour me an adult beverage and ask what in the world I have protuding from my purse. I start laughing. It's my flip-flops. HAHAHA.

Chardonnay: You didn't?! You walked here? hahaha Hilarious! Were you trying to hide your shoes? hahaha.

Then they notice my bruised and scabbed knee. Shit. I forgot about that. I explain. I was at work and we don't have heat (nope, no heat), and I tripped over the space heater cord and skinned my knee. Then, later that night, I went to the gym. I was getting on the leg press, trying to be suave, when BANG! I freaking knocked my knee so hard I wanted to cry. But I was at the gym. There's no crying at the gym! A guy across from my machine asked if I was okay. Three weeks later, the bruise went away. Months later, I still don't use the leg press. It hurt!

We hop into a cab and head to a bar.

When we arrive, I'm already pretty buzzed, just from the excitement of the whole day. I start talking to a bunch of different people. So@24...remember meeting me? :)

I also meet So@24's friend Jack. More on this later when I describe the most awkward Clumsy dates ever!

I entertain everyone with my story about how I got into a car accident earlier in the evening because of the upcoming celebration of Baby Jesus's birth (aka I lied and only blamed the Christmas music even though it was the "I'm horny!" shout).

I bump into someone I went to high school with and hadn't seen in years! It's a small world.

I move out of the way for the waitress (the only person who did move out of the way) when she's trying to get through with a tray of drinks. She then spills a beer on me. I apologize and she starts screaming at me. Bouncers are summoned. This is what I get for being too nice and too accommodating! It ends up being fine. People shake hands.

Jack asks for my number and writes it in a match book.

Chardonnay, Elle, a dude, and I pile into a cab to go to an after party. We get dropped off in a residential area and there are no parties to be found. Not one. Empty streets with plenty of parking. Quiet as a mouse. It's 30 degrees. We can see our breaths in the air, I'm wearing a short dress, and my feet hurt (probably from the walk).

Finally, we find more people we know. Elle had called a cab as a back-up and I take it home to my safe and warm bed.

As I put my head on the pillow, I laugh.

I might be four grand in the hole (yes, four grand), but life is good. And so are the memories from the day I got in a horny accident.

Happy Belated Birthday, Chardonnay!

A Couple Miles From Crazy and Happy

Not too long ago, in a land a couple miles away, I had a crazy and terrible day. And then I went to a party.

I met up with Insecure Boy for tailgating in the morning. His dad was in town and he wanted all of his friends to meet him. Apparently, I am a friend...even though Insecure Boy has slipped me the Hot Beef Injection. All of his "friends" included a handful stopping by, but otherwise, it was just me. Insecure Boy, his dad, his sister, and his brother-in-law. Wow. Pretty awkward.

I handled it beautifully. I was charming, funny, and cute.

For lil ol Clumsy, I was on top of my game. Had a great conversation with his sister, made his dad laugh, and charmed his co-workers. I even flirted with him a little.

About three hours later, I went to the little girls room, came back, and he was gone. Everyone was gone. No text, no call, no good-bye.

I was SOOOOOO pissed. I knew he had tickets to the game, but not even a "hey, see ya later!" or a "we went into the game"?**

I went home, slept for a couple hours, and Kayla came home with two of her sisters. We decided to go to dinner before I went to my brand-new friend Chardonnay's (we weren't on a nickname basis at this point...I wasn't even a blogger) birthday party.

I was dressed in this short silver dress, with my fabulous designer coat and black patent leather shoes with silver heels. I had to leave to go to Chardonnay's birthday party from the restaurant, so I drove separately with one of Kayla's sisters. Kayla's sister just broke off her engagement and we had a lot to talk about. I'm sort of obsessed with Christmas music, and seeing as this happened to be December, I had just burned a CD of some killer Baby Jesus's birth songs.

Here we are, driving to dinner, and having an intense conversation. I'm kind of venting about Insecure Boy, she's venting about her lost love, and suddenly, out of nowhere....I shout....

"I'M HORNY!!!!!" (Then I dramatically turn up the volume of My Grown up Christmas List)

Boom.

Fuck.

Beemer.

I hit a fucking beemer.

While screaming, "I'm HORNY!"

I shit you not.

Is this God punishing me for being horny and singing along in celebration of the birth of his Son?

So, we pull into an empty lot and my car's hood is up about 5 inches, but the rest of everything looks fine. The beemer looks untouched. I went under it.

So, after exchanging information with the scariest woman I have ever met in my life, I drove my poor little Honda home.

I call Chardonnay on the way home.

Clumsy: Dude, I don't know if I can make it to your party.

Chardonnay: Why? You have to come!

Clumsy: I just got into a car accident. I hit a freaking beemer.

Chardonnay: Omigod, are you okay?

Clumsy: Fine, except for my ego.

Chardonnay: Go home, take care of some stuff, and then take a cab over here.

Clumsy: I'll try. Talk to you later.

After talking with my dad and insurance company, I make a decision. Either this day is just going to SUCK BALLS. Or I am going to my new friend's birthday party and it is going to be a great time. A great time known as the night of Chardonnay's birthday.

This story is to be continued.....

**So the first time I talked to him since the "I'm Horny" accident was when he called to invite me to his birthday party two weeks ago.

And we're hanging out tonight.

What the f*&% am I supposed to wear? And should I try to accidentally fall on top of his penis or take the higher ground and pretend I don't want to. I mean, do you really blame me? I can't really afford another "I'M HORNY" car accident. It's expensive.