Sounds Like "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"

4 pairs of pants in the closet, 4 pairs of pants... [that fit]
Wash a pair, your fiance puts them in the dryer
3 pairs of GD pants that fit your fat ass in the closet

Caveman Is As Caveman Does

Last night Paul and I went to a "Black Shirt Party" at his coworker's apartment.

When we arrived the ratio of women to men was 6 to 1, with Paul being the lone male. The lone wolf. The alpha male. We made ourselves at home on a nice large ottoman. We chatted, we laughed, we watched one of the party-goers demonstrate how she can put both her legs behind her head at the same time. I kid you not. And, it's not as impressive as it sounds. Ok, it actually doesn't even sound impressive, just a whole lotta hussy.

About a half hour later, the number of men climbed to 2 with the addition of another of Paul's [married] coworkers. I opted to move to a chair because my back was not digging ottoman style sitting. We chatted, we laughed, we watched the bendy party-goer almost fall out of her shirt every time she inhaled.

Twenty minutes later, the number of men was at an all-evening high of 4 when single guy #1 and #2 arrived. I was still in my chair and Paul was still on the ottoman nearby. Quicker than you can say "caveman" Paul put his hand on my leg. Ok, a not-so-subtle mark-your-girl move. The guys mixed their drinks in the kitchen and then joined the rest of the party goers in the livingroom. Paul leaned over, way over, so he was leaning into my lap. I was worried that at any moment he was going to start peeing around me.

I guess the ways of the caveman (or canine) are alive and leaning.

The Great Dick-bate

Me: "Let's rent 27 Dresses this weekend (the movie, and not actually renting 27 dresses)!"
Paul: "Sounds like a chick flick. Iron Man is at the theatre. I was thinking of taking Aidan for some male bonding. You could come too."
Me: "Hmmm...sounds like a dick flick. I think I'll opt for the inevitable taffeta filled music montage."

And somewhere, Thelma and Louise give a high five.

G's Please

Today I was missing Paul like crazy. He was traveling from Norway to Italy and was incommunicado. When he did manage to email me, it was a one liner saying he missed me like crazy, he was going out to supper and would write later. I was [slightly] disappointed. I mean eating could wait, right?

So I went for a consultation/reality check with my coworker Mary (aka Undercover Mother). I asked if I was expecting too much from Paul (to delay eating etc). Mary responded with a resounding "Yes! You're being a Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts." And then she bitch-air-slapped me back to reality.

We now refer to this term as the "G Quad". It's our code signal that someone (ok, ok, me) is out of control with her expectations. As Mary put it, "If I was away in Italy, you wouldn't hear from me at all." My argument, "But you're not my girlfriend." And then our took-a-turn-for-the-weird convo ended.

But really, is it my fault that Paul has created such high expectations in me by being the best boyfriend ever? Hmmm...are you sure? Right then.

I excitedly checked my email when I got home, only to find my inbox was empty. With "Greedy Greedy Gobble Guts" echoing in my head, I tried to be an understanding girlfriend. I was about to log off my computer when Paul signed in to MSN. He had stayed up to 1am (there's a 5 hour time difference) hoping I would be online and we could chat in real time instead of via email.

Where's Mary when you need another bitch-air-slap?

Today's Post Is Brought To You By the Letter F

If you're a divorced parent who's dating, there's very few moments that will make you hold your breath and pray like the introduction of your date to your child/ren (except perhaps for said child/ren waking up through the night, and quietly sneaking into your room at a therapy-causing moment).

Paul came over last Friday evening for some pizza and Game Cube to meet my 10-year-old son Aidan. Paul brought some books he thought Aidan would like (in Paul's words, he's not above bribing).

They bonded. Talked about Gladius. I pretended to know what they were talking about. Aidan explained game rules and strategy. I said, "Hey, how come you never told me any of that!" Aidan just laughed. This is going really good I thought. And then...

It's hard to put into vowels and consonants the sound of a "boy fart." Naturally, that is the only kind of farting sound because as we've already discussed, girls do not fart.

Ofcourse I shot Aidan "the mommy look" as in "Oh my god I can't believe you just did that" look. To his credit, he did say excuse me. So I figured, ok...that's that. Moving on. Back to the game. And then...

He did it again! Only this time he laughed after saying "excuse me." Time to take action.

Me: "Aidan, if you're going to do that, please leave the room and then come back."
Aidan: "You don't make me do that any other time."
At this point I'm trying to see if I'm small enough to roll under his twin sized bed and hide.

Each time, Aidan thought it was funnier than the last. I think I stopped counting at this point. It was almost as if Aidan was trying to impress Paul in some only-boys-understand way.

Paul, to his credit, was very understanding. And said, "Wait until you meet [name of his daughter]. " Eep.

After our game we drove Aidan to meet my ex-husband in a near-by "drop off point" city. I made it a point to talk to Aidan when I picked him up on Sunday. We discussed the importance of manners. And we discussed the possibility of sending him to military school if he doesn't learn some.

Meep Meep

Paul and I were chatting about a girl he used to date who was as vocal in the bedroom as Charlie Chaplin was on screen. Paul found it frustrating because he never knew whether he was doing something good, bad, or whether she was asleep.

I offered, "Wouldn't it have been funny if you could have made little signs with phrases stuck to popsicle sticks like Wile E. Coyote does when he's chasing the Road Runner. Except the signs would say things like "Oooo baby" or "A bit to the left" and "Bob's Your Uncle".

Perhaps this could become a full scale marketing thingamajig. The signs could come in packs of 5. Keep 'em or trade 'em with your friends - collect all 20! Hmmm, no?

Perhaps this is why I don't work in marketing...

Blog This

So far, so good with Paul. Like realllllllllly goooooood.

He even knows about this blog and is not going to read it. FYI: Paul would have chosen the name "Nick" if he had the choice. This is funny because I did consider the name Nick but opted not to because I also have a friend named Nick.

I definitely come up with post ideas when we're on the phone or out together. He's very familiar with the phrase "I need to write THAT down, it is SO a blog post."

Not that I would mind if he read 95% of the posts, after all, they're quite funny albeit quirky and some slightly neurotic. But I certainly don't want him reading what I've written about previous exploits, like here and here, and who could forget this humdinger. And I certainly don't want to start censoring what I write or removing anything I have written. Heck, even my mum reads my blog and I don't censor for her [Hi mum!].

I'm not sure if I could be so respectful if the roles were reversed. My curiosity might/could/most definitely get the better of me. I blame this partially on my journalism background, partially on my being nosy.

So I get to keep this guilty little pleasure all to myself. But I think I will share this post with Paul, after all, it was written for him.

BomChickaWahWah

Over the past two weeks, I've been getting to know Paul (aka the Runner) via three hour laugh-infused phone calls, lots of flirty emails, and reviewing [reading many many times] his profile on Facebook.

Last night we had our first date.

Pre-date getting ready: Consumed a half a glass of wine to calm flip flopping stomach. It was humid out so my hair was doing this Sideshow Bob impersonation. Had to flatten my curls and opt for straight hair. Changed mind over flirty date outfit. Paul's a "legs and back" guy but my best assets are the T&A. Decided to go for a strapless/sleeveless/ shows off neck, shoulders and part of back top with my new Esprit jeans that look so good I never want to take them off unless... The outfit was complete with the addition of 3+ inch black suede stiletto heels.

Paul picked me up at my house with flowers in hand (daisies - my favorite). Bonus points earned = 20. Plus he smelled so good. Bonus points earned = 20.

We headed to the local Irish Pub for some eats. The food was good (a munchie platter and BBQ chicken pizza). I found the chicken wings to be unusually spicy (a probable side effect from my detox earlier in the week) so I tore through my glass of water and glass of wine pretty quickly while trying to appear lady-like. Paul smiled and asked if I wanted some more water (all I could do was nod) and he went to find our waitress. Bonus points earned (for taking charge) = 15.

I took him for a walking "tour of the town". As we were popping in and out of shops, we heard the sound of live music coming from the waterfront. We followed, and took our seats (front row, center). It was one girl on the stage with her red guitar - Jenn Grant. Live music can be hit or miss but Jenn = amazing. We hooted after every song. Pulled the "I'm cold" move (though I was cold) and was rewarded with a nice strong arm around me. Bonus points earned (for picking up on verbal clues) = 30.

After her set was over, I had to get her CD and got her to sign it. Jenn asked who she should make it our to, I didn't want to impose, so I said, "Oh just write that you are fabulous because you are." In retrospect, I guess I should have been clearer that Jenn Grant should write that Jenn Grant is fabulous because she is. So now the insert on my CD says "You guys are fabulous, xo Jenn" and I feel like a big asshole.

Back on our walking tour, we decided to stop at a little cafe where they make the best cheesecake (we opted for a piece of "Hugs and Kisses"). I had a coffee (almond amaretto) and Paul had a latte. We talked and laughed some more over the CD misunderstanding. I suggested "To the two hooters in the front" would have been a funnier request and then realized the double meaning. I had to write that down (in case I forgot) but didn't have a pen. So Paul tracked down one from our waitress. Bonus points earned (for taking charge of a girl's needs even if that need is only a pen) = 1,000,000.

On our way back to the car I took my heels off and walked back to the barefoot. The sidewalk became really rocky so Paul gave me a piggy back ride. We were almost there and I asked, "Am I getting to heavy?" He answered, "What are you...only 110 pounds. No, you're not getting heavy." Bonus points earned (because I am not 110 pounds) = 50.

We went back to my place to listen to the CD and play Scrabble (times two, FYI I won both games). Bonus points earned (for possibly throwing the game because he knows I'm competitive) = 10.

I ended up breaking my first date rule. Paul was aware of my rule before our date, and for the record did vocalize he wanted to remain a gentleman and respect my boundaries. Bonus points earned (for at least pretending to respect my boundaries, although he was quite genuine about it so I think he was actually trying to) = 30.

But he caved pretty quickly after I gave him the green light.

After he left, I was thinking about our evening. There was not one time I was let down or disappointed. There was no thinking "If only he had of," or "I wish he had of thought to". He did it all. It was a perfect date. And I can't remember the last time that happened.

Running for Mr. Right

Today it was refreshing to find myself [wait...there's more]

Today it was refreshing to find myself chatting to a single guy [wait...there's more]

Today it was refreshing to find myself chatting to a single guy who, like me, is an avid runner. It doesn't happen very often (unless you count the guys who "run" to the liquor store).

And he was witty to boot. Teasing me about my "batman belt" aka my fuel belt. Alas, the only crime I'm fighting right now is that I'm single.

It reminded me how much I'm attracted to guys who are physical (and not in the way that you're thinking about. Ok...maybe a bit of that too ;) I like guys who are rugged and like camping. Can handle a canoe. Build a fire. Carries me over his shoulder to the bedroom while calling to his jungle friends (loincloth optional).

Runners. Surfers. Skiers. It doesn't matter as long as it's physical. And he's got skills (or at least pretends to). Confidence is another thing I'm attracted to.

You would think in this day and age, finding a physical guy would be easy. It's about as easy as doing what's on page 20 of the Kama Sutra. Case in point: I run on the same trail every night and I come across lots of other runners. And you know what, they're all women. We knowingly nod in passing, as if we're all members of the same club.

Perhaps I need to start running somewhere new if I expect to run into Mr. Right.