SPOILED ROTTEN BRAT

Can you be a spoiled rotten brat if you are spoiling yourself?

Exhibit A

I had gnarly winter toes and decided yesterday afternoon that a pedi was needed STAT.

I left after getting a pedi, mani, shoulder rub, and eyebrow wax (no, I don’t want my upper lip waxed, thank you very much).

Those girls really ARE the best upsellers known to (wo)man.

PS – It’s never to early to break out the hot pink toenail polish.

PPS – Please excuse my nasty dancer feet…and the fact that my “pointer” toe is longer than my “thumb” toe.

PPSS – Please do not leave a comment if you’re into foot fetishes.

JUMPING BACK IN TO THE DATING POOL

After the Gentleman Caller and I decided to part ways, my dad asked me a very funny question: “how are you going to start marketing yourself?” I laughed and shrugged him off, but then realized, it was the perfect question.

I’m the director of public affairs for a large developer. Marketing is a part of my gig. I’m pretty good at it. So why was I totally speechless?

I knew that this was going to be a good year for getting out of my house and not waiting for Mr. Right to come knocking on my door. I’m back in tennis lessons and I’ve really been thinking about hitting the driving range on the weekends (dudes abound!), getting more involved in church, and finding new things to do with friends.

But I’m also a member of the instant gratification generation, so I hopped back online and started shopping for a boyfriend. Yes, I joined an online dating website for a month, just to see what I could find (RIGHT NOW)!

I used to HATE the idea of online dating, but it’s become so common and normal that I had to get over my issues and just jump in. I’ve tried it in the past and had some pretty good dates…some lame ones, too, but not bad enough to turn me off completely.

After a week of “smiling,” sending “sparks,” and email messages, I found a fellah who seemed normal enough to meet in person. He was GREAT on paper, looked handsome in his pics, shares my values, and works in a similar industry. We decided to meet at a sports bar in Newport and exchanged clues about what we were wearing.

Yes, folks that’s how it begins. I suppose I should have been holding a rose like Kathleen Kelley at the coffee shop, but instead, I just gave a description of my outfit; he sent his, too.

So, there I was standing in a crowded and loud sports bar waiting for Mr. Maybe.

And he showed up.

And he was handsome.

And he was easy to talk to.

And he seemed interested in me.

And we had NO SPARKS.

{sad trombone}

But hey, I got out there, I gave it a try, I was vulnerable and nervous, but open to possibility, and that folks was almost better than meeting Mr. Right.

MICROWAVE OF DEATH

Last time I checked, these things were not supposed to catch on fire.

This sucker is less than five years old, so once again, I’m happy that I have my home warranty to come to the rescue!