Thursday, September 30, 2010

How Not to Date Starring KP

Things not to do on the first several dates:
  • Inhale chicken wings. In the process, accidentally smear teriyaki sauce all over your cute, new halter top.
  • Kick your date's ass at trivia. Beat him so well that you end up on the Recent Top Scorers Board at B-dubs. (Not a joke--I am the Queen of Trivia, apparently.)
  • Practically hump date's car when you see how freakin' sexy it is. And I am not one to fall in love with cars.
  • Go karaokeing. New boys may not be prepared to witness the glory that is my rendition of "Baby Got Back." It's a flight-risk.
  • Suggest hiking as a fun, casual Sunday activity, not realizing that in warm fall weather the bugs will be out in full force, ready to feast on exposed skin. (A tip? Romance will likely not blossom when I'm busy squealing and scratching a multitude of new bug bites.)

Those who know me well should not be surprised by this list. Because I am nothing if not completely charming when it comes to dating. That list is in no way fabricated--ALL of those things happened in one weekend. And with one guy. Because despite me kicking some ass at trivia, smearing wing sauce all over myself, and tripping over myself to sing Sir Mixalot, this guy agreed to see me three times in one weekend. And he has continued to ask to see me. And! More than that! He gets excited when he sees me! (And don't even get me started on how well he can kiss because hot DAMN!)

So despite all of the charming fumbles I have made I think I have a keeper on my hands. And I now have a new descriptor to add to my title. As of last Thursday, I am not only KP, writer, diva, student affairs guru and dork extraordinaire, I am also this incredible guy's girlfriend. (Yay me!)

Monday, September 13, 2010

Stuck on his elevator

There is a legend among my coworkers that tells of a handsome elevator repairman. A devastatingly gorgeous man. A man who could have (and this is a direct quote) "stepped off the cover of a Harlequin romance novel." I did not believe my friends. I had never seen this guy. I didn't think he existed. He sounded too beautiful, too perfect for the central plains of Minnesota. I mean, seriously--I've been at my current job for over a year and I had never seen this man. I live right next to an elevator--one would think I'd have seen this guy at some point. But no. So I maintained that he was a figment of people's imaginations.

Until today.

After spending a decent amount of time in my friend's office I cavorted back to my hall to tackle emails. My hands were full, juggling iced sweet tea, my work bag and my keys and I was humming a random song from Glee. As I got to my door I dropped my keys, which then caused me to almost drop everything else. I cursed as I bent down to pick it up, nearly falling over in my heels as I did. As I shakily stood back up, I noticed a guy next to me in the hall.

Not just any guy. Harlequin elevator guy.

And he was stunning. Like, the most beautiful man I've ever seen in the world stunning. Not only did he have rippling biceps, dark eyes, thick hair and the perfect tan, but his voice was deep and his eyes sparkled. The world stopped, time stood still and I swear I heard an angel choir when he smiled at me. When he asked how I was I believe my exact words were "mmbblaahgood HEHEHEHE!" as I stumbled into my apartment to squeal like a tween.

One the door was closed I immediately called my coworker friend who thinks he looks like a romance novel hero. "AHHH! OH MY GOD HE IS GORGEOUS. My life is now complete because I've seen him. He. Is. GORGEOUS. He. Is the. Singular. Most. Beautiful man. I've. EVER SEEN. All I can do is giggle when I think about him--HEHEHEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" She just laughed. "I told you so!" We both squealed a bit longer before I said I needed to go and do some work.

I opened my office door and heard some rustling. A few seconds later, Mr. Harlequin emerged from the lobby area a few feet from my door. He smirked at me as he fiddled with some paperwork. I immediately started blushing and had to keep from giggling at his pretty-ness. But as I held it back a realization dawned on me: oh. My god. He heard my end of my conversation. Ohgodohgodohgod. No wonder he smirked at me!

This is the reason I will never be the stunning heroine (complete with creamy, bulging breasts and flowing, ass-length hair) in any romance. Because of my stupid mouth. But at least I caught a glimpse of the work legend. And at least I can giggle at his beauty. He may never be my leading man, but I can guarantee he'll make a cameo in at least one mid-afternoon, post-sugar high daydream.

Friday, September 10, 2010

I never was a fan of gravy

Recently I’ve noticed an onslaught of radio commercials for products that control breast sweat. The commercial I am most fond of is for a product called “Fresh Breasts.” Evidently breast sweat has reached epidemic proportions and requires a major radio campaign to get the cure to the sweaty masses. As a big-breasted woman myself, I understand how this could be an issue. It tends to happen to me when I use the girls as paperweights or to prop a drink between them. And apparently it’s not just breasts that are having a sweaty problem. There is a similar product called “Fresh Balls.” (When I heard of this I immediately had visions of air fresheners shaped like balls, swinging from rear view mirrors everywhere.) Hearing about boob sweat is bad enough, but I REALLY don’t want to listen to ads about perspiring man parts. Knowing men the way I do, the application of the product alone will inevitably result in everything else becoming sweaty. I’m really not convinced these products will work anyway. Call me a pessimist, but I’m pretty sure putting some sort of lotion-y, powder-y product in those areas is just going to produce gravy. No one wants to be around people who can make their own gravy. So I beg of you, the makers of "Fresh Balls" and "Fresh Breasts," please stop with the radio commercials. It's bad enough that everyone in this tropical hell in which I live is constantly glistening from sweat. I really don't need visions of them cooking Thanksgiving dinner in their fruit of the looms. Some things need to remain a sweaty little secret, so let's just pass out paper towels and call it good.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Where have we been?

It's been awhile since we've posted here. Seems like both KP and I have been pretty busy. KP has been especially busy, as this time of year is her craziest time at work. Here's a quick update of what we've been up to lately:

KP has been participating in tribal drumming around bonfires, riding horses, dancing in videos, and attending mixers and various luncheons, all in the name of "work." She's a regular renaissance woman, and quite possibly could be the female answer to the Old Spice Guy. KP does have a demanding job. She's on a mini-vacay at the moment, which is well deserved after the last couple of weeks of training new disciples. Have I ever said how much I dig KP? I do. If her spirit could be bottled and given to every soul, the world would be a better place to live. There would be no wars, and everyone would unite over cheese and music. Perfect.

I've been busy, too, but not having as much fun bonding with my co-workers as KP has. I've spent a lot of time lately with a visiting family member, and there wasn't a restaurant we left unturned in the county. I also just got my hair cut very short, and I really like it. It's been many years and many pounds since my hair was this short, but whateva. I love it. My husband likes it as well, but says it makes my boobs look bigger. If you knew how big my boobs were to begin with, this would really scare you.

KP and I are exceptionally excited about the season premier of Glee in 2 weeks, so I am sure we'll be posting like crazy when it starts. And of course, I can't wait to mock the cast of Dancing with the Stars!! Bristol Palin! David Hasselhoff! Michael Bolton! I can't WAIT!! Stay tuned!

The beauty of music ...

Seriously, watch this video -

Just wanted to share a little inspiration for the day. Hallelujah (written by Leonard Cohen) is my absolute favorite song of all time. I've probably listened to it a thousand times over the years. The lyrical beauty brings me to tears every time I hear it. And K.D. Lang's rendition is the most moving I've ever heard. (Where have you been, K.D? Your voice is one of the most beautiful in the world! (Calm down, Celine. Yours is right up there.)) I watch this video whenever I need to be inspired, I'm off-center, or just need to relax. It always sets me straight. Whatever your spirituality is or isn't, this will blow you away. Leonard Cohen's view is that many different Hallelujahs exist, and I couldn't agree more. Peace. K-Dub.