Hold the Glimmer

Whatsup, Ireland? How’s it going, Ecuador? Good to see you Germany and Indonesia!  Thanks for stopping by, Alaska! (Listen, it’s practically its own country and I betcha a few Palin’s will 2^nd the motion. (and in one swift sentence, there go all of our Alaskan readers, floating away on glaciers with their polar bears and igloos…TRACY, SHUT UP ALREADY.)) 

I wanted to start this post with a big shout out, thanking all of our international readers for checking out the blog!  We’re so happy to be a click in your day! Now, you are more than likely an actual friend (shock- we actually have them) reading these words, who’s left the warming embrace of political, social, and economic turmoil, also known as “The United States of America,” for greener pastures in other countries (ya, I’m talking to you, Hamburg), but you have no idea the absolutely absurd amounts of value I place upon you.  While some may believe that hounding your friends to read your eloquent words formed into barely readable sentences is hardly considered notable “hits” for a blog, I have much lower expectations (morals/values/whatever) and appreciate each and every one of you bowing down to peer pressure.  Not only have you accepted my bullying, you’re actually passing this blog around to your little commie/socialist/grass skirt wearing friends (we are an actual blog. We have stats. I know exactly who you are.  Don’t trip…I know no names, only exact locations where blog was accessed.  I kid. We’re not that creepy. I think…)

Can someone explain to me the significance of daylight savings time in 2012?  Yes, I specified 2012.  I did not ask the significance of daylight savings time in 1912, where every household had at least four working family members, a block of ice for a freezer, and a butter churner in the back yard.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t that drastic. Maybe it was?  Any time period pre- regular automobile ownership is something I will never comprehend.  I have a hard enough time watching Don Draper manually change the TV channel on Mad Men (but MAN I can TOTALLY get behind drinking scotch and smoking in the workplace..), let alone understanding the complexities of a 1912 lifestyle.  What I’m trying to get at here is that we no longer need to subscribe to the idea that farmers need more daylight, while we’re dragging ass for a few days adjusting to a time that was forced upon us. 

And what the fuck, world? Some states participate, some don’t? Some countries do, some countries don’t?  Apparently, Indonesia sat down last year and said “meh, we don’t want to do daylight savings time this year…” What? How? Who declared this and why can’t we vote on it in California? And, really, what kind of ass-backwards state do WE live in requiring more daylight and fewer homos?  SWITCH THAT UP PLEASE.

PS- Do you know how incredibly depressing it is watching the sunrise on your morning commute and then watching the sunset during your afternoon drive home?  (Don’t get me started on new traffic congestion because people are now blinded by the rays on the drive home.  Buy some sunglasses, flip your mirror down; we’ll all get through this together.)  Although my office is awesome, it’s still INDOORS.  It’s like the world is telling me “HAHA! How much would you have enjoyed THIS today?!?”

-Tangent- It’s an incredibly sobering feeling when you realize you can no longer online date for lack of quality men.  Listen, I’m not searching for the finest cut filet mignon.  Although I love filet mignon, I would choose a New York (unless you’re buying, because HELLO- New York cut is ten times more flavorful without that bougie filet price tag…).  Ya, I’m using steak as an analogy for online dating.  You understood it, so stop judging me (and if you didn’t, brush up on your beef knowledge before messaging me on facebook again.  You’ll have even more potential to become my actual friend. Need even more of a backstory? Go here:http://wp.me/pHfRF-3m ) Almost every single person I’ve met online has been a complete opposite of what their elaborate profile described to me.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve met a few (very, very, VERY FEW) genuine guys from this whole experience, but not enough to make me believe that you’re not all a bunch of liars.  A couple tips, guys: 

• Don’t send me a picture from 2008, hell anything earlier than August 2011.  I don’t care that you seemed to be the “man” in a picture with a sombrero and 30 stacked solo cups in Cabo.  It’s Cabo.  My parents have the same exact pictures, in the same exact bar, at their time share.  I’m sure it was an awesome trip, and you just love the way your skin glows, but you’re 40 lbs heavier in real life and balding.  Fortunately, you’re still moderately attractive in real life, but how can I not judge someone creating this “I’m wealthy with a full head of hair and ripped abs” persona online, who shows up at a bar in Tevas with a gut. 
• We’re in LA, not the Colorado outback. Get rid of your Tevas.
• I’m sure your bff4LYFE is this super hot chick that you drooled over in high school, only to become besties over facebook in college after being rejected too many times.  That’s awesome, really.  Maybe refrain from putting every single picture of the two of you on your profile?  I promise there is little to no competition, but I want to know you’re not looking for a third in the bedroom as I peruse your digital problems.
• It’s weird emphasizing your mom is your best friend.  My mom is my best “mom” friend, but my best friend is my best friend, not my mom.  My parents are awesome and we’re super close, but (and they’ll remind you..) they’re not my friends.  They are my parents.  They have friends that are a lot cooler than some “20 something chick” they created that drunken, hazy night in the 80’s.  True story- At 10 years old, I tried “running away” after an argument  and in the midst of searching for my favorite stuffed animal (totally necessary)my Dad swooped into my room, packed my bag, walked me downstairs, opened the front door, ushered me out of the house and said “Best of luck! Call me when you find a family better than this one!”  Real bonding moment with Dad there… As excited as I am in wow-ing your folks with my…charm…I have little to no interest in shopping for lingerie with your Mom or calling her to gossip about orgasm articles in Cosmo.  You should feel the same way.

 My bigger problem is figuring out where one goes once realizing online dating just won’t work.  Do I join an anonymous help group? Is there some kind of “singles only” farm we get shipped off to?  Speaking of farms…..I was going through some old photo albums a while ago and found a picture of our first family dog, Samantha. 

“Aww, Mom! Look! Samantha! She was so sweet to me…” –me

“Ya, until she tried to attack your brother when we first brought him home from the hospital.” –mom

“Um…What?” –me

“Your brother was sleeping on your lap and Samantha was insanely jealous.  She jumped onto the couch and almost bit his face off. We had to put her down after that.” –mom

“EXCUSE ME?!” –me

“Honey, how many times do we have to go over this?  She also attacked the neighbors, the neighbor’s kids; she was an old, aggressive beast.  There was no other option.” –Mom

(my face goes blank. My jaw drops to an almost unhinged level.)

“Mom. Wait. Are you fucking kidding me right now?” –me

“Oh, come on. What’s wrong now?” –Mom

“MOM. YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU AND DAD TOOK HER TO A FAMILY THAT HAD A FARM OUTSIDE OF SAN DIEGO WHERE SHE COULD RUN AROUND AND HAVE MORE DOGS TO PLAY WITH!!!!!!” –me

“Oh, you believed that?” –Mom

“WHAT WAS MY OTHER OPTION, MOM?!?!? I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME AND LET ME LIVE THIS LIE FOR TWENTY YEARS?!?!?” –me

Don’t get me started on the story of my second best friend and pet fish- Bubbles.  I’m still fuming.