The day I was outed in Barnes and Nobles

Sometimes I wonder how these things happen to me.  And I of course have no GOOD answer.  But here is a recent and true tale that has happened to me.  I had just finished watching "Moonrise Kingdom" with a friend at a local movie theater, and decided to hang out at the Barnes and Nobles cafe and read for a bit before saying goodbye.  While my friend stepped away to go to the restroom, I got bombarded with this:




Woman:  "Excuse me.  My English isn't very good.  It's not very good.  I need help.  Help to write a note for a friend.  Can you help me?"
Me:  "Um...  sure.  I'll help."
Woman:  "Thank you, thank you.  My English isn't good, and I need help finishing a note to my girlfriend."
--Now, when the woman mentioned "girlfriend" I literally thought she mean a girl that is her friend.  I did not think that she literally meant her significant other type of girlfriend...  DUMB ASS ASSUMPTION!  I now internally realize, while walking over to her table that this "note" means a full on five page letter, and that this "note" is being written on her laptop...  Holy frizzle.  Let's continue...
Me:  "What do you need help saying?"
Woman:  "Well, my girlfriend is mad at me, and she says she cannot continue being my girlfriend with my lifestyle.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because.  Because....I have psychological problems and she doesn't want to deal with me anymore."
--HOLY FRIZZLE
Me:  "Oooohhh.  Well, do you need help with a particular sentence?"
--I also notice that she's wearing a Kaiser Permanente sweatshirt with the word, Volunteer underneath it.  I start wondering how often she goes to Kaiser Permanente...
Woman:  "Well, she won't let me  let me  let me  let me  let me  let me.  She won't let me stay at her house anymore.  And she says she will not take me to this House Concert.  But I don't care about concert.  I care about about about about about.  About seeing her."
--While I am reading what she has in her letter, which is full of apologies and reminding her girlfriend that she will get therapy and drugs for her psychological problems, her English is in fact not that bad.  She writes English heck of a lot better than she speaks English...
Me:  "Well, what you have so far sounds pretty good..."
Woman:  "Have you ever broken up with a girlfriend?"
Me:  "Um.. well, I have had a girl in my life that I was close with and now we don't talk anymore."
--NOW the lady starts rubbing my tricep...
Woman:  "I'm so sorry sorry sorry. It's hard breaking up with a girlfriend."
--Now her voice raises ten octaves...
Woman:  "HOW LONG DID YOU GO OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND?"
--Holy frizzle.  This is why I regret not correcting this lady before.  When I said "girlfriend", I of course meant girl friend, not girlfriend.  But now since she might go bat-shit cray cray on me, I feel that it's better for me to be homosexual than to prolong this conversation.
In the mean time, every single person within a gooood radius of B&N has now whipped their head around and is staring at me and my new friend...
Me:  "Um...  we were together for three years.  But I haven't talked to her in a year."
Woman:  (still with the ultra high and loud voice)  "WELL BREAK-UPS ARE HARD, BUT AT LEAST YOU'RE A A A A A A A A A LESSSSSBIAANNN WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMS!!!"
She is still rubbing my tricep...
Me:  "Yeah.....your letter looks great.  I'll see you later!"
--I start speed walking in the opposite direction, towards the escalator.  I then see my friend standing nearby.
My friend:  "Who was that?"
Me:  "A lesbian who made me a lesbian.  She needed help with a letter."
My friend: "WHATTT?"
Me:  "I'll explain when we are out of this joint..."




classic and completely true.  

Where were you when the titanic sank?

I am assuming something is definitely AMAZING if are were in fact: a survivor from the sinking Titanic, are over 100 years old, know how to use a computer, and you still have the eyesight and wherewithall to READ a blog. Congratulations you lucky son of a bitch. What drugs are you taking? I need to invest in whatever you're doing right.... But most of us readers are not as lucky as the 100 year old son of a gun. For example, I wasn't even alive. I was 11 years old when the movie came out - thanks James Carmmeron. (snickering) When I was 11, my elementary school class decided to see the movie all together. Now that I'm thinking about it, how the hell did they let in 35 eleven year olds into a pg-13 movie? Crazy ass staff... Well anyways...I'm sitting next to my "boyfriend" Bryce. Holding hands was a epic moment. Our pinky fingers barely interlocking were the beezneez then. Legit! But of course everyone is STARING at us because we are holding hands. So we were asked by some snotty girl in my class (Shelly) "Have you kissed?" Me am Bryce have not kissed by that point. Our pinky fingers touching was like first base - are you joking? But because I wanted to "fit in" I replied to stupid Shelly with "yes." So then Shelly (little biotch) asks us to kiss in front of her. Without a moments hestitation Bryce leans in for a peck. Twice in a row. I might have peed in my pants a little. Don't let assholes in your life, like Shelly, pester you into doing shit you're not ready for. Honestly everyone needs a first kiss. I just wish I wasn't taking direction from damn Shelly to make it happen. Oh well... My second was with a guy two years later, also named Bryce. Weird. But that time, it was not on cue, and was unexpected. Screw you Shelly. (there is no actual hate. It's just fun to dog on her in a blog that she will never read). the end

I am doing it.

One of my dreams is to be a teacher or an educator, twenty years from now in the fitness, health and wellness field.  Growing up I had big dreams:  to be the best dancer I could be, and to be in a professional dance company.  Well wouldn't you know it, I did achieve my dream.  Although it didn't turn out like I thought.  I thought I would enjoy it and I would be on cloud nine.  Never did I consider that I would get to my dream, and that I wasn't happy.  It tore me up inside that being a professional dancer didn't make me as happy as I thought it would.

Although I love dancing, it wasn't enough for me.  And that depressed me.  And then I was just depressed in general.  I felt lost without a dream anymore.  I had never NOT had a dream.  It felt weird, empty, and alone.

Some of my friends were (and some still are) off in grad school pursuing their dreams to be teachers, professors, lawyers, and even some doctors.  And inside, I just felt like little ol' me.  I felt that I was deflated and that I needed a spark under my ass to be lit, and to fly me across the state of California, so I can feel what it's like to have that motivation again.  Something pulling me towards a goal.

For a while work did become motivation for me.  I received more education in my field and lit the spark that I can be an even better and informed teacher.  The only problem with dreams, is that you can't live in the "I will" "I should" "I could" world.  You have to live in the "I am" world.  I am doing (add in your dream).

I will be the first to admit, writing down your dreams as a reality is a little frightening.  I have had occasions in my life where I was afraid of failing, but what was even scarier was succeeding.  That meant higher and more expectations of myself.  It meant more commitment.  More drive.  More passion.  More anything and everything.  That scared me.  What are my limits?  Do I have limits?  Can I ALWAYS push myself further?

The answers are:  Dream as big as I want, and there are no limits.  And yes, I can always push myself further.  

So making my dreams a reality, and taking the steps I need to take to make my dreams happen are necessary and required as far as I am concerned.

So watch out world.  Literally.  I am traveling around the world educating students, teachers, whoever wants to attend my lectures feel free.  I'm coming your way by 2022.  And if I'm lucky, I'll be doing it with a smile on my face.  

a little romance

 was talking to my friend Eleanore about how romance has fizzled into a text-frenzy, writing on your wall, sending a cute e-card kind of way.  People don't really ACTUALLY buy your roses, comb their hair, and SURPRISE you with things anymore.

There are no such things as secret admirers.  The closest thing to that, from my observations, are Google stalking or Facebook Friending.  I think people have lost the art of being able to walk up to people, say hello, may I sit with you? and just have a friggin conversation.

I have asked two gentlemen out before, in daylight in front of other people.  So, two points for me.  I have found women my age, don't do the asking...  One was a man named Adam and he was a "hottie" to me in 7th grade.  Mind you, he was 6 inches shorter than me, had a red poofy afro, and barely spoke a word.  But at the time, that clearly did it for me.  I told him that I liked him and that if he would want to go on a date with me.  I think he agreed merely because a girl had never asked him out.  I think that weekend, his parents drove us to the $5 movie theater (no longer exists) and we saw probably the worst movie ever.  My mom then drove him home, and then took me home.  That was the end of me and Adam.  But!  I did learn that we didn't have that much in common, and that it was better to get that one weird date out of the way, instead of fantasizing about us holding hands during lunch.

The second man, I don't even remember his name.  Sorry, whoever you are.  We were both in 8th grade.  He had a shaved head, and this time the guy was taller than me.  My friend Jessica, dated Mr. Nameless' friend.  So I figured, hey, if they get along, then me and Nameless could get along too.  We could go on a double date.  When I actually went to talk to him, I apparently did all the talking at first.  I asked if he would want to go on a date with me Jessica, and her man...low and behold he had the vernacular of a 1st grader.  So I told him that I didn't want to go on the date anymore, and that it was just a joke.  I know, that's cruel.  But when someone's version of speaking is practically ga-ga-goo-goo--uddhhhh-drrrr-ddddeeeee....then it's time to move on....

So my point is!  MUSTER up the courage to say hi, or whatever.  You can comment on anything!  I flirted with a guy once when he asked me what time it was, and we ended up talking for 20 minutes.  I also met a hot guy I was sitting next to on a train going to the airport.  These things DO happen, so take advantage.  The hot guy buying bananas in Whole Foods could be single - you never know!  So go ask.

The most romantic thing that has ever happened to me, was in 6th grade.  I'm not kidding.  My 6th grade "boyfriend" named Jim was cute, and we were both friends with a girl named Ashley.  So the three of us hung out a lot during recess and after school.  Well, Jim and Ashley did a three way phone call, letting me know that Jim actually liked someone else and that he wanted to ask her to the 6th grade school dance.  I told him I had homework to do and that I didn't have time for him.

I must say... if I ever had the balls to say that to someone's face nowadays, I would be in better shape dating-wise...  What 11 year old says that?  Wait...probably a lot.  But for me, that's saying something.  I don't like the feeling of being mean, even when people deserve it.

It was the week before my 6th grade dance, and I didn't have a "date."  But oh well, good! I thought, the principal of my school knows my dad.  I definitely don't want word goin' around that I danced with some guy and my dad was going to hear about it.  How embarrassing.


One day after school, there was a knock at the door.  My mom answered it, and it was my friend Billy from school.  So she let me stop doing my homework for a minute to see Billy.

Billy was out rollerblading with Jim, my "ex", and decided swing by my house to see if I wanted to join them.

Billy:  Hey, sarcastical girl, do you want to go rollerblading with me and Jim?
Me:  It sounds like fun, but my mom is helping me with my geography homework.  Maybe next time.
Billy:   long pause...
           longer pause......
          OK bye.

I then shut the front door to go back to geography (my least favorite subject at the time).

30 seconds later:  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.  I open the door.  Billy is head to toe in rollerblade gear:  helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, the works.

Billy:  I was wondering if you wanted to go to the dance with me.
Me:  (noticing Jim in the background, and wanting to make him jealous) I would love to.
Billy:  Greatokaybye.  (rollerblading at top speed away from my front door)

I have to say, that was the most romantic way I have ever been asked out to by anyone, or anything.  Billy and I are still friends, and fondly remember our rollerblading days.

But ask yourself, when is the last time someone has truly touched your heart in that kind of way?  I was eleven.  But that is such a precious age.  We deserve this as an adult too!  I don't mean a knight on a horse or any of that crap.  Or even love notes.  Whatever.  How about, flowers for no reason.  How about, a hug when you are doing the dishes, and you didn't see it coming.  Or how about, planning a romantic dinner in or out, on your own without any help.

Maybe I have dated a couple of toads, but men don't seem to do this for me.  Sure on the first date, they may pay for the bill or open the door for me.  But it ends soon after that.  I don't ever expect prince charming.  But I guess I do hope that romance can be rekindled for mankind, for everyone's benefit.

SO GET TO IT!

little white lies

Admit it, you have at least told a white lie every once in a while.  And hell, I'll be the first to admit it:  it's fun.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I won't lie about important things to important people.  That's just wrong.  But to tell white lies to complete strangers that you will probably never speak to again... maybe not so bad.

In the last couple of years, a hobby of mine has been ballroom dance.  I like to go to the social dances just to practice, have fun, and let loose after a long day of work.  It puts me in a good mood at the end of the night.

So one night several months ago, I went to the ballroom social dance.  A guy asked me to dance, I said yes, and we were out there having fun on the dance floor.  Good times.  However, that day I was particularly stressed from something about work, and it was just the LAST thing I wanted to think about.  However, my dance partner really couldn't take the hint.


Dance Partner:  How has your day been?

Sarcastical Girl:  Not too great, but it's much better now now that I am here dancing.  How about you (I get cut off)...

DP:  What do you do for work?

SC:  Oh, I just don't really want to talk about it, no offense.  Just really stressed about something.

DP:  It can't be THAT bad.

SC:  Well... (I'm fumbling for a way to shut down the conversation about my work).

DP:  C'mon I bet it's not bad.  What projects are you working on?

10 second pause

SC:  I work for the government.

DP:  Oh wow!  In which department?

SC:  I'm not classified to give much information on that.  It's a very high-risk project including transportation and safety but other than that I cannot reveal anything.  In fact, I may have to kill you for even telling you that much.

DP:  Oh man  - I wish I knew what you did!  That's so fascinating!  Do you work nearby?

SC:  I cannot disclose where I work.  Again, safety and privacy regulations.

DP:  Do you receive orders from Obama, himself?

SC:  My boss in the end is of course, Obama.  But the person ahead of me is much like Charlie in Charlie's Angels.  Just a voice with messages.  We talk on a secure private line and I just follow my instructions.  By this time, the dance was over, and I bowed to him saying thank you.  Thanks for the dance.  I walk away.


Now this guy was just stupidly gullible.  Nobody would believe that load of crap.  But apparently he DID, and it was fun being a super government spy even for 2 minutes.

I might have scared DP away, because I have never seen him at the ballroom social dance again.

Maybe I've struck gold:  come up with random crap to either lure people in, or turn people away.  Maybe the next time a creeper hits on me, I will tell him I am a tax auditor and ask him if he has kept all of his receipts.  At that point, he won't care about buying me a drink or getting me in my pants.  He'll be too busy panicking and sweating bullets.

Non-Wallet

When I was in high school, I only dated one guy named Chris.  He was truly a trooper.  We met in 9th grade, and his locker was next to my best friend's locker.  We would always exchange a smile, but never spoke a word to each other until the last day of 9th grade.  We had a 7 minute passing period between classes, and right as I was about to walk in the door for my last class, I heard my name shouted from behind me.  I turned around and Chris was right there.  He then asked me for my phone number "so we can keep in touch over the summer."  And because it was the last day of school, everyone had their yearbook on them.  So, I told him that he could have my number.  I literally wrote:  Sarcastical Girl:  555-5555 (for example).  I didn't say hi, nice knowin' you or anything.  And of course, we were both so awkward at 13, I literally handed him his yearbook back, and said "ok bye."

I didn't hear back from him for about 2 months.  He called me one afternoon, and since that phone call, we dated for about 4 years.  Go figure.  He was truly a wonderful dude.

Anywho, let's go to the real story.  In high school, both Chris and I were pretty busy.  We both had extra curricular activities in the fine arts, and had practice during and after school.  I also was busy every Saturday, and worked on Sundays.  So the only times we saw each other than inside the classrooms were on Saturday night dates.  Usually we went to the movies.  For both of us, we didn't get our license for a loooooong time, so our poor mothers had to shuttle us to and from the dates.  (sorry, mom).

Anywho, we usually decided to go to the movies because it was cheap (back in the day) and there was a Barnes and Nobles nearby.  We would definitely frequent B&N and be nerds and read books.  Trust me,  we were an old married couple at the age of 16.

Even though we dated for such a long ass time, we never had sex.  I know, the poor man.  Dating a chick for four years and she never gave it up.  I've talked to Chris several times about this after our breakup (years later) and he told me that he was SO stoked to have a girlfriend in high school, because that usually meant that you got laid, but since I never felt ready, he was like damn.  He hoped that SOMEDAY he would get to nail me.  Now people, he is not a perv.  He said this in a jokingly way.  And it's true!  Nowadays, people sleep together within their first several months of getting to know each other.  Giving up your v-card at a young age is NORMAL.  However, because I was paranoid of getting pregnant, as well as seeing my sister get her heart broken by the first guy she slept with, I was more than willing to wait.

So I was pretty much the most naive person ever when it came to sex or anything on the topic as a teen.  I knew everything about STDs and protection, but knew nothing about actual contact with a person of the opposite sex.  Some questions I often asked myself were:  Don't people get embarrassed?  How do you look your partner in the eye, after having sex?  Are you supposed to cuddle afterwards?  What if it hurts?  Should I act like it's not a big deal?  What if it hurts A LOT?  What if the condom breaks?  TRUST ME the questions went on and on.  For days.

My dating experience with Chris, were close to only kissing and hugging.  I was too afraid of getting preggers, so we were limited to major makeout sessions in the back row of movie theaters.  He was an EXCELLENT kisser, probably from much practice with me.  The poor man.

So one particular Saturday night, Chris and I went to a movie as normal.  We put the arm rest up and out of our way, so we could hold hands easily and snuggle.  Well, as we were holding hands, they somehow migrated to his right leg.  It took me a few seconds to think about it, so I whispered to Chris during the movie:

Sarcastical Girl:  Your wallet is in the way, can you take it out of your pocket?  Jesus Christ, what is it made of, metal???


Chris:  Ummm I can't move it.  It's my....non....wallet.....

Sarastical Girl's Inside Thoughts:  HOLY HELL, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.  I AM SO EMBARRASSED.  GOOD THING THIS ROOM IS DARK, MY FACE IS GETTING HOT.


Chris had the most majorest hardest boner I have ever seen,well felt, to this day.  And it's a damn shame we never had sex, especially since he was packin.

Another little gem of a story that completes me.

He REALLY wanted to get in my pants.

Several years before I met my main squeeze Sam, I flirted with the idea of casually dating a guy I knew for a while named Mitch.  

Mitch definitely did not fit the type of dude I have dated in the past.  He had a ton of tattoos and piercings, was definitely the most masculine man I have ever met, and was also a smoker.  Looking back, I shouldn't have been interested, solely because of the smoking.  Now I won't go anywhere NEAR a smoker.  No offense, it's not that I hate who you are or anything.  It's just a stinky horrible unhealthy habit that makes me want to vomit.  Mitch was also within one of our military branches - again, not my typical date.

I've known him for about 5 years before we started seeing each other romantically, so I thought well, at least there will be no surprises.  I was a dumb-ass to make that assumption.

He asked me to go on a date with him, and to meet some of his buddies.  I said sure, no problem.  After all, we were going to a bonfire at the beach and make smores.  I'm already sold, I don't even need Mitch there to have a good time.

When we get to the beach, I realize that it's a Christian youth group type of meeting.  They all had their guitars, and were singing songs about our good ol' Jesus.  Well, Mitch has known all along that I don't have a religion and that I don't really like to partake in church-y type of things.  So I was a bit surprised that he invited me to meet his friends at this type of event.  Three hours later, the songs were still coming, the prayer group were still prayin', and there were no smores.  It was getting dark and cold, so I told Mitch it was time to take me home.

He asked if I had a good time.  I said, well you know I'm not religious and it was hard sitting there acting like I am engaged in this type of event so I was uncomfortable.  He clearly thought he could recruit me in this beach bonfire event.  There have better damn well be smores if I'm going to consider Jesus as my lord.  

Now don't get me wrong.  I think there are amazing things and traditions within all religions which I think are interesting and valid.  However,  I just don't have that level of faith or interest in the matter.

I decide to give Mitch one more shot, as far as dating goes.  He said he promised, no shenanigans this time, he was going to take me out to dinner.  I said, that sounds good and to pick me up at 6pm.  

I was really tired that day, and needed a serious nap before going out to dinner.  So I set my alarm for 5:15 to pull it together before he comes and picks me up at 6pm.

He shows up to my door at 5:45, and my old roommate opens the door letting him in.  He then decides to come to my room and knock on the door and let me know that he's here (and early).  I was kinda pissed - let your lady take her time.  Don't rush her!  Not sexy...

So I told him that I was getting dressed and that I needed a few minutes before heading out.  He decides to just let himself in my room anyway.  Luckily I was wearing a shirt already, but I was in my thong with my jeans on the floor.  I was finishing up my makeup, and my jeans & shoes were going to be the last thing on before walking out to see him.

He busts open the door, sees my jeans on the floor.  Mind you, he could have cared less that I am in a lacey thong with mascara in hand...  Mitch then says:  "Sarcastical girl, can I try on your pants?  We look like the same size.  I just want to see if they fit."

Mitch then strips down to ugly-ass boxers mind you, and puts on my jeans.  Uhhhhh what?

We never made it to dinner.  I just said it wasn't gonna work out, and that he needed to give my back my jeans immediately.  

We haven't talked since...