Top Ramen

As you know, I’m back to online dating.

It’s not that I love the idea of meeting someone online, because I definitely don’t. But in my everyday life (at my advanced age), I just don’t have enough opportunities to meet new people.

I guess it’s not really “people” I’m looking to meet. It’s guys. Ok, ok, single guys. Alright, STRAIGHT single guys.

Anyway, I’ve recently been toying with the idea of taking golf or sailing lessons at Chelsea Piers or cooking classes at the Institute for Culinary Education. It would be so nice to meet someone in real life instead of on a computer, where you have no idea if the guy you think is normal is actually a 300lb hoarder who’s 6’ tall ONLY when he stands on a giant pile of empty Steak-Umm boxes.

You just can’t tell.

Anyway, about a month and a half ago, I was in the grocery store across the street from my apt. I was in the mood to learn to make soup, and was buying the fixings for French Onion. I wasn’t really following a recipe, exactly, but I’ve eaten it a 100x over the years. So I was just going from aisle to aisle picking up ingredients that seemed to make sense.

Immediately after the produce aisle (where I grabbed Spanish onions, red onions, a head of garlic, and a shallot), and the cookie aisle (where I picked up some Nutter Butters, which have nothing at all to do with the soup, but are simply the most awesomely delicious cookie ever), I found myself in the soup aisle.

You’d think I would have skipped this aisle, since I was making soup from scratch. It might have made sense to avoid the temptation to scrap my whole plan, buy a can of Campbell’s, kick back on the couch and chow down on sweet, sweet Nutter Butters.

But I didn’t.

I got to the middle of the aisle when I realized I needed a broth of some kind. So I was standing there, debating whether I should go with beef stock or vegetable stock. Veggie was in a green box. Would the broth be greenish too? I couldn’t take the chance. I knew beef was brown. 

Just then, a tall, glasses-wearing guy in a very nice gray pinstripe suit reached over my head to grab 2 packages of Nissin Top Ramen. Chicken flavor. “I lived on this stuff in college,” he said to me as he dropped the packages into his basket. I nodded. He nodded. And he went on his way up the aisle.

I grabbed the beef stock and continued down the aisle. I turned the corner to the frozen food section, which also happens to have pre-packaged deli items, and smells vaguely of vomit. I was deliberating over buying Gruyere (at $24 a wedge!) or Swiss (at a mere $8).

Ramen Noodle walked by again. “Try the fontina,” he said. I smiled. He smiled. And he went on his way up the aisle.

I grabbed the fontina, since it was also white and melty, and a fraction of the cost of the Gruyere.  I also picked up a bag of Nathan’s Famous frozen potato pancakes (because they are tasty), and continued down the aisle. I skipped the next few aisles because I didn’t need any beverages, cleaning products, pet food, or cereal.

I was in the last aisle to grab some butter to saute the onions in.  This is FRENCH onion soup after all.  The tub of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter that I already had in my fridge probably wouldn't cut it.

Well, guess who walked by?

Clearly we were on the same grocery path. “Got the fontina, huh?” he asked. I laughed. He laughed. And we both went up the aisle toward the checkout. We picked different lanes, which meant we were done roughly at the same time. I know this because I walked out of the store right behind him.

“Are you following me?” he flirted. “It won’t be a long walk, I live just across the street.” He proceeded to point right at my building.

“You don’t say?” I replied. “Me too.”

He introduced himself, and I did the same. We chatted while waiting for the light to change. And while walking across the street. And in the lobby of our building. And by the mailboxes. And by the elevators. We got in, and I hit my floor, 28. He hit his floor, 17. Then he asked me out for a drink.

(Not that night, of course. I would be too busy eating cookies while figuring out how to make soup.)

We met in the lobby the following night around 8pm. That is precisely when this cute story of 2 people meeting in the soup aisle at Gristedes turned rotten.

The drinks lasted all of 20 minutes. In this time:

• I noticed he was much heavier than I remembered. Maybe it was all the sodium from the ramen, but the buttons on his shirt (and probably his pants) were undoubtedly the most hard-working buttons in the room.
• He barely said 10 words, all he did was gesture.  It was like being on a date with a mime.
• The few words he did use were directed towards our server, and involved ordering, re-ordering, and re-re-ordering himself a glass of port. He showed no visible signs of remorse for his openly assholey behavior or for his bad taste in drinks.

Interrupting my silent prayers for someone to pull the fire alarm, he stepped away. I assumed it was to pay the bill at the bar. I was at least grateful that he realized this was going nowhere.  Plus, I made a mental note that 99 cent noodles are a HORRIBLE foundation for a first date. The only guys who still eat that crap are wasted and/or broke.

He returned a few minutes later reeking of cigarettes. Revolting.

“Can you tell I just had a smoke?” he asked as he waved his arms in the air and shook out his suit jacket. Ah!  Words!  How nice.  Too bad he stunk.  So I replied, “Um, could you tell if a bum just took a dump his pants?” 

He looked at me strangely. Needless to say, the date ended there. We walked back, awkwardly, to our apt building.

And I learned a valuable lesson – don’t date anyone who lives in your apt building! Because I ran into him like 6 more times after that horrible date. In typical New York fashion, though, we pretended like we didn’t know one another. Which was fine by me.

Now, you might be wondering why I decided to write about him today if this date happened a while back. Well, my typical policy with writing about my bad dates is that I don’t do it until I'm positive I’m never going to see the guy again. And I will NEVER see Ooodles of Noodles again, as the doorman told me he moved out today. Hooray!

I just might celebrate. With some port. Oh, wait!  That’s a pretentious drink that tastes like oven cleaner.

Maybe I’ll just have a Nutter Butter.

So, would you ever date someone from your same apartment or office building?  Share below...

tags: city life, dating, food

The Meet Market

The other night, I went to Professor Thom's in the East Village for a book launch party.  My colleague wrote an e-book, soon to be a paperback, called Salary Tutor (check it out -- who among us couldn't use a bigger paycheck?).  As he was introducing his agent and publisher to us, I got to thinking about my own book.

Say what?

Yes, I wrote an unpublished novel AGES ago -- back in 2002, to be exact, when I was just 29 years young.  And all 285 pages have been sitting in a box ever since.  Well, they briefly saw the light of day back in 2009, when I dusted them off to blog an excerpt from one of my favorite chapters. 

But mostly, it's been a life in the box.

Anyway, I went digging in that old box when I got home from the party, and I discovered that even waaay back then, I knew online dating was full of freaks and losers.  Like this guy, this guy, THIS guy, this guy, and most recently, this guy.  And I hadn't even signed up for any dating services at that point in my life, like I did at age 35 or 37. 

But somehow, I just knew.  Behold, snippets from Chapter 20: The Meet Market...


A homely young woman was sitting on her couch, under a crocheted blanket, eating chocolate ice cream straight from the container.  A voiceover declared, "You can eat ice cream on your couch." The next scene showed the same woman, now a sexpot in a French bistro seated across from a gentleman in a tuxedo. "Or you can eat ice cream off your date."  They cut to the woman's face and she winked as he put an ice cream-coated fingertip in her mouth.  The voice said, "You decide," as the words "No More Lonely Nights" scrolled across the screen, with the URL for an online dating site. 


Eventually, the book's main character, Kate (a girl loosely based on me), made the decision to join this dating site.  Unsure how to navigate these unfamiliar waters, she first did a little profile reconnaissance...


Kate came across cutesy screen names like IrishYouPeace and Shiksappeal, nostalgic names like OuttaTime88 and TheOtherDarrinStevens, nasty names like Chitty_Chitty_Gang_Bang and Jenitellya, and creepy names like AshleighsDad and Pastor_Gary. 

In her dating experiences, Kate was a lot like Goldilocks.  Some of the porridge was too cold, some of the beds were too soft, some of the bears were too short.  She'd yet to meet anyone that was "just right."  That seemed as good a screen name as any, so JustWrite29 was born.  In the wee hours of Saturday morning, she posted the following profile:

     JUSTWRITE29 - LOOKING FOR MR. MAYBE
     Cable television talent booker seeking an escape from the single life.  I prefer beer to wine, dinner to dancing, and
     brains to brawn.  You prefer brunettes to blondes, movies to marathons, and sarcasm to slapstick.  If you have also
     run out of friends to hit on, you find yourself bored by the bar scene, and would rather poke yourself in the eye with
     a fork than sit through another fixup, we should probably talk.


It wasn't long before Kate began receiving responses to her new profile...


A small, yellow envelope appeared at the bottom of her computer screen, so she took a detour from reviewing the morning's news stories to reading her email.  There were seven new messages, all a result of the dating profile she just posted.  "This is too easy," Kate said as she waded through the messages. "Come to mama!"  What she quickly realized is the reason it was so easy was because there were a lot of spooky freaks patrolling the information superhighway in the middle of the night, many of whom likely still lived with mama. 

The messages came with photos attached.  She found it funny that someone named PlayLikeAChampionToday was giving a buddy hi-five.  The caption might as well have read: I'm going for the gold in the Douche Olympics.  Bronze simply will not do.  Date_Seeking_Missile promised to take Kate all the way to DEFCON5.  Staring at his picture, Kate made a mental note never to date a man who wore clogs or bathing suits that resembled panties.

Someone named Theres.Something.About.Marty explained that he enjoyed long walks on the beach.  "Yeah, on a leash.  Woof, WOOF," Kate said aloud as she deleted his message.  The hairstyles here were something like she hadn't seen since her high school yearbook.  For the candidate best suited for male pattern baldness, she was torn between LastAmericanSmoker with the moustache and mullet and TKESully82 who looked as though he dove headfirst into a jar of Dippity Don't.


Kate continued wading through messages, until she got to the last one...


The speedy death of her faith in Internet dating culminated with the following glorious proposition:

     TO:                JustWrite29
     FR:                NE_PatsFan11
     DATE:            Saturday, April 5, 2:41AM
     MESSAGE:      i like your butt. can i wear it as a hat?

Without hesitation, she deactivated her online dating profile.  It may have been rash, but she was not prepared to be hit on by losers in the comfort and privacy of her own home.  No sense in meeting men even less mature than the emotional toddlers she'd been dating all her life.  She'd relegate those lame pick-ups and horrible fix-ups to the bars, where they belonged.


See!  All those years ago, I knew even without knowing, that online dating is the pits.  Case in point: about a week ago, one guy decided to jump past the guided communication on eHarmony and deliver me an "icebreaker."  From his profile photos (6 total), he could only be described as a Tank Top Enthusiast.  He sent me the oldest pickup line in the book, "Haven't I seen you someplace before?" 

I replied, "Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore." 

And then I closed the match.

For every 100 guys like the ones above, there's MAYBE 1 normal one.  If that!  I'm emailing right now with a guy from Long Island who appears totally normal.  The good news is that according to his photos, he has no affinity for sleeveless undershirts and shows no obvious signs of wanting to wear my ass as headgear.  But what do I know?

Now I'm thinking maybe I should read the rest of the manuscript!  It's like a freaking crystal ball!  Who knows what other sage dating advice (online or otherwise) that my young, cute 29 year old self has for my old, haggard 37 year old self?

Stay tuned...


tags: dating, writing

Thinking Out Loud

I thought about not writing this post, but I have a confession to make.

I cried 3 times this week.

The 1st time, I was on my way to work, crossing 42nd Street, near the Vanderbilt entrance of Grand Central. Forever, by Chris Brown was playing on my iPod (I like him when he's not beating women or destroying property or generally being an ass). The 2nd time, I was sitting on my couch, watching the Big Love series finale. Bill Hendricks (spoiler alert!) was dying on the ground, and using his last breath to ask for a blessing from his first wife, Barb. The 3rd time, I was in my office, reviewing a video submitted by a groom-to-be for a contest we are running. The guy was talking about his first date, and how he “just knew.”

At first, I couldn’t understand why I’ve been so emotional lately. I haven’t cried in ages! Besides, I just got home from a super fun trip to Wilmington and Philly with my good friend. My parents were about to come into town to meet my new little nephew for the first time. Work’s been insane, but is going really well. I’m still totally loving my iPhone. And, of course, Dancing with the Stars is back.

What could possibly be wrong?

Then, I realized a year ago today, I moved in with my ex-fiance. And all those things -- that entrance, that song, that show, and that first date feeling when you think you “just know” -- reminded me of him.

During my last week in the city, he brought me flowers, like he did most every Tuesday. If I’d known that would be the last time he'd give me flowers, I would’ve paid more attention to what they looked like. But I do remember that I put them in a glass pitcher because all my vases were packed.

Piles of cardboard boxes, stacked 6 feet high, were scattered all over my apt. So rather than order in that night like we usually did, we went to dinner at the Italian restaurant up the street. We shared a square pizza with double pepperoni. Our usual order.

I remember so clearly sitting across the table from him. I was trying to soak in every minute of our last day in NYC. Of course we’d be back, but never again as 2 people on the verge of beginning their lives together. It was such a HUGE step for me, but I was absolutely certain it was the right one. Even though we didn’t have a wedding date yet, we DID have a moving date. And at the time, that was all I needed.

He insisted that I hire movers, which was a good idea in retrospect. So I spent my tax return on it. That was like free money anyway, right? When moving day came, we decided it was best to divide and conquer – I was with the movers in NYC, he was with my brother and a van up in CT, transporting all our extra stuff to a storage unit. About halfway through the day, we met up outside his condo. He and my brother were waiting for everything to arrive so they could make another trip to storage. I hopped out of the taxi I’d taken from the Stamford train station, and I was smiling from ear to ear.

My brother would later tell our mom that he’d never seen me happier.

It was around 5pm that night when my ex finally came through the door. I was in his condo, surrounded by my boxes. He went for the couch and I snuggled in right beside him. I wanted to kiss and pop champagne. I wanted to jump up and down and celebrate. I wanted to take a picture to remember that moment forever.

He did not. 

He said moving stressed him out. So there was no kissing, no champagne, no jumping, no photos. Thinking about how crushed I felt that day still brings tears to my eyes. Obviously. And, as you know, it was all downhill from there.

Like I said earlier, I thought about not writing this post. In part, because I'm doing SO much better and dwelling in the past over a relationship that wasn't real is unhealthy. Plus, I haven't cried about this breakup since November when I was contacted by someone who was connected to him.  Hearing from this person was totally shocking, but ultimately reaffirming and kind.

It provided me with some closure, for which I was grateful, but it stirred up a slew of old emotions too. 

So to write about this relationship again now, all these months later, means admitting that it still gets to me. I guess the truth is, it does. But not in the way you might think.

What upsets me most, is that I’ll never get to experience that first time again. The moment I’d been waiting my whole life for: Two lives becoming one. To think something that carried such incredible meaning for me was treated so carelessly and dismissed so casually makes me upset.  And it makes me angry.

I'd really love to stop remembering these painful milestones.  Just wipe my memory clean.  Because even when I don't think I'm thinking about it, clearly on some level I still am.  Maybe it's inevitable, but I hope I just need to start making new memories in order to forget the old ones.  And then I can close this chapter. 

For good.

But for now... it helps to write about it.  Thanks, as always, for listening.


tags: breakup

On the Roadi: DE Here We Come

And... we're off. 

Come along for the ride!  To join the 1st Roadi trip EVER to Delaware (aka: The First State), check out our blog or follow us on Twitter.

All the cool kids are doing it.  Well, probably not the COOL kids.  More like the kids who have nothing better to do but be online all weekend when the weather's supposed to be nice.  But please, don't let that stop you.

tags: travel

It's Just a Little Crush

Lately I’ve been feeling dizzy, feverish, and nauseous. Is it the flu? Allergies? A bad tuna fish sandwich?

No.

I have a crush. Well, if I’m being honest, it’s more like 6 crushes. I know! It’s still kinda early, so I don’t know where they will lead. But I’m hopeful…

We've moved pretty quickly.  I met them all this year, and already we get together about once a week (not all at the same time, of course, I’m not that kind of girl!). And the beauty is, we never have to ruin the romance. Why?

Because they’re not real.

They’re in my TV! Oh, that’s the BEST kind of crush there is! Please, allow me to introduce:

Glee
Blaine, aka Darren Criss

This little Warbler has singlehandedly saved Glee for me. Even if he doesn’t play for my team, he’s my hands-down favorite part of the show. If you haven’t seen him belt out When I Get You Alone in the middle of a Gap in Ohio, you simply haven’t lived. I’m being dead serious. You need to watch it now. Right. Now. Yep, I’ll wait…. (sigh...).  Now watch it again.  See?! Amazing. Nobody rocks a navy blue blazer with red piping like Blaine. And before you get all crazy, he’s not actually IN high school. He’s like 24. Which makes me a cougar, not a criminal.

Parks & Rec
Ben, aka Adam Scott

Pawnee’s newest resident may be a financially responsible auditor now, but he got his start in local government as a boy mayor who was ousted for blowing the budget on a tourist attraction called, Ice Town. You have to love that. I’ve always been a fan of Adam Scott’s geekish charm, and while it’s cooler to say I fell for him in Party Down, the truth is, I realllly first remember him from Boy Meets World. My television repertoire is vast and varied.

Episodes
Matt LeBlanc, aka Matt LeBlanc

This is not Joey “How YOU doin’?” Tribbiani, even if they both smell like cinnamon.  Matt’s actually playing himself, or a version of himself, on this hilarious show about an American remake of a British show. Follow that? He’s all kinds of adorable here, even with gray hair. I’m only slightly weirded out by the fact that it looks like he’s gotten an eye job (either that, or he’s just really, really, REALLY surprised all the time), and the fact that we've been repeatedly told Matt has a giant package (a trait that Matt may or may not share with his character). The biggest tease here is that there were only 7 episodes in this mini-season. But the pilot they were filming on this show-within-a-show got picked up, so… see you in September!

Vampire Diaries
Damon, aka Ian Somerhalder

This crush has actually been smoldering for a while. But it’s only recently I’ve discovered that I tend to fast forward through most of this Twilight-inspired tween drama, just to focus on the parts he’s in. He’s evil and good looking. I’m helpless to resist. Besides, pretty much every episode goes like this: Elena puts herself in danger, Stefan takes a break from brooding to rescue her, Elena resists getting them both in a jam, random sub-plot with werewolf and/or witchy hijinks ensue, Damon somehow rescues BOTH Stefan and Elena, then looks longingly at her. As you can see, I’m not really missing much.

Shameless
Lip, aka Jeremy Allen White

Ok, ok, I think this one actually IS a kid. Like under 18. So I won’t say anything here except that you should be watching Shameless, 10pm Sunday nights on Showtime.

(And Lip steals the show.)

Mr. Sunshine
Crystal, aka Allison Janney

Admittedly, this is an odd choice. After all, she is… a she. But I cannot get enough of Crystal the clueless, heartless, clown-fearing owner of the Sunshine Center. Last week, she was figure skating with Papa Smurf, the week before the humidity in San Diego did something so bad to her hair that by the time the episode was over, she looked like Peter Brady. It’s so great to see the funny side of CJ. I heart her.






So those are my crushes.  Swoon.  Is it love? I’m going to go with no. Crushes are fleeting.  And apparently, so is love.  I mean who can really say, “I will always love you”? AL-WAYS. As in forever. Nobody. Except maybe Whitney Houston, and she’s high on crack.

Ok, so I may be a bit damaged. Like a dented soup can. But for now, I have my TV crushes to keep me company.

Anyone else in a 2-dimensional, 1-sided affair? 


tags: entertainment

Love (x2)

Nearly 2 years ago, I became an aunt for the very first time to my niece, Grace Elizabeth. And from the second that little pink munchkin rolled down the hallway at Bridgeport Hospital, I've been totally smitten.

Love at first sight.

About 2 weeks ago, I became an aunt for a second time, now to a little boy named Thomas John. And I've fallen instantly in love. Again.

One of the things I'm getting a kick out of are the differences between them.

Gracie is a bundle of curiosity and personality. She has her own mind (even if I can only understand about 28% of what she says). One minute, you can see her wheels turning, trying to make sense that the "Tommy" we've all been pointing to in her mom's tummy is now the little meatball on her lap. The next, she's scooting around the house with her pink and purple shopping cart, while coloring on papers (and occasionally tables), and eating yogurt/applesauce/mushy chicken, and reading 17 books. Upside down.

She's a total riot. And a ham. And an awful lot like her Aunt Jenny at that age. Or so I'm told.

Tommy, from what I've observed so far, is such a boy. I can totally see his sister when I look at his sweet face, but with darker hair, a more olive complexion, and meatier hands. He's mellow and thoughtful. Can babies be deep in thought? If so, he is. He sleeps mostly right now, but when he does open those big blue peepers, you can actually see that he's taking in the world around him. He seems satisfied with everything, then drifts back off to dreamland.

Perfectly content.

No matter the chaos swirling around, he's just chillin' the most. Except for when he's hungry. Just like his dad.

I truly can't wait to see what awesome people they grow up to be. But one of the things I'm most looking forward to (besides NOT cheating at Uno with them), is watching their relationship develop with each other. As playmates. As tattle-tales. As co-conspirators. And ultimately, as best friends.

I have NO idea what's in store for me in the kid department. There was a long period of time where I thought I might never have the opportunity to be a parent. Then, for a brief moment, I was absolutely certain I would. Now, who knows? But I feel so very blessed to have these little ones in my life.

They are pure joy.

Here's hoping each of you has a little joy in your life too!


tags: family

Federal Un-Reserved

I don’t typically blog about guys I've never met. But I'm making an exception.

I’m fully aware how out-of-practice I am in the dating department, so I specifically chose eHarmony because of their guided communication process. It's less scary.  Not like Match where you generally meet up right away. I'm not ready for that. 

I need a barrier.

Now, barely a day goes by that I don’t receive a request to communicate from a guy. And I decline almost ALL of them. It’s not that I think I’m that great, because if recent history has taught us anything, um… I’m not.

It’s just that if I'm certain I’m not interested -- based purely on a 30 second assessment of his profile and pictures -- I don’t want to waste his time. Or mine.

Mainly mine.

Anyway, about 2 weeks ago, I heard from a guy. Let’s call him Alan Greenspan, former chairman of the US Federal Reserve banking system. “AG” was 44, 6’1”, and owned a home in Forest Hills, NY. Never married, no kids, worked as a “US government securities compliance examiner,” whatever that is, and classified himself as someone who was good at managing his finances. I should hope so!

If the pictures were to be believed, he had blonde hair (which I don’t typically go for), nice teeth (which I do), and was as cute as a 44-year-old grown man can be. Despite the fact that he loved the Rangers, Dave Matthews, and dogs, like someone I once knew, I decided to reply.

First, we exchanged multiple choice questions and answers. Mostly stupid stuff like, if you were to go on a dream vacation, would it be to a cottage by the sea, or to Paris, or a sandy beach, or hiking? (I'm allergic to hiking.) Then we traded our top 10 relationship must-haves and can’t-stands. (Can you guess what mine might be?) Finally, we sent short answer questions, like what is your best physical feature? (My rack -- kiddiiiing -- my smile.)

Finally, it was on to open communication. At this stage, we were still emailing through eHarmony so no contact information changed hands. But he seemed nice and normal, so I moved forward.

I won’t describe what happened next, you’ll just have to read it for yourself. Here is our email exchange, unedited:


Hi Jennifer,

Thanks for your responses so far during these initial stages. It's been great getting to know you...and I'd love to find out more. I know you said you had written up a response to my second question (i.e. What are the most important interests/activities/beliefs you want to share with your partner? Tell me your thoughts on kids/family, living near/around NYC, music/dancing, sports, PDA/intimacy, pets, vacation, politics, and religion) but that it would not fit.

Let me know your thoughts on those items, especially intimacy. I ask about that specifically since I see that among your ten must haves that you do not have either passionate, affectionate or sexually knowledgeable. What is your opinion and desires when it comes to sharing affection and passion with your partner. An unreserved physical expression of feelings is part of the necessary communication in a long term relationship. I want someone who also wants to be able to freely express their attraction (verbally and physically) to her partner. And I'd love to know about the other issues as well.

Hope to hear from you soon,
AG 



Hi Alan,

Thanks for your note. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too! I have to be honest, though, I’m a little uncomfortable discussing intimacy in depth at this stage. I wouldn’t list anything overtly sexual as a top 10 requirement in the person I date mainly because as a woman, I think that message attracts the wrong type of guy. I purposely selected “Chemistry” instead. I agree, both physical and emotional intimacy are critical to a lasting monogamous relationship, but it takes time to build that trust.

If you don’t agree, that’s totally ok, but then perhaps we aren’t a match. If you can understand my point of view, then please write back and I’d be more than happy to answer the rest of your questions.

Best,
Jen



Hi Jen,

While I don't want to make you discuss anything that makes you uncomfortable, I was looking for general attitude toward intimacy (affection, verbal and physical exchanges) with your partner. If it is something that is not important to you, then at least I know that before I decide anything about a chance for us. If you are on board with me on this issue, then we should move forward and talk on the phone.

As much as chemistry may include intimacy, I wish to specifically address it since I want to be able to be unreserved with my partner when it comes to expressing my high regard for her. I understand trust is needed to enable both persons to express themselves and that you do not want to attract the wrong guy, but since honesty is needed from day one, I just want to make sure we see eye to eye on this topic.

I understand that you wouldn't be verbally or physically intimate with any person early on, but I'm not into holding back feelings (especially verbally)...it's my way of always being honest.

Care to share any more details?  Feel free to call me at 917-XXX-XXXX whenever you have time.
AG



Greenspan,

Thanks for writing back. I guess I feel like I have told you generally what my attitude towards intimacy is -- I think it’s important. I’m a fan. But now I have to be blunt -- I’m put-off by your fixation on this topic. Particularly when we don’t even know the most basic things about each other, like where we grew up or if we have any siblings. Passion, intimacy, chemistry, whatever, develops over time. Or it doesn’t.

Thanks for your number, but I really don’t care to share any more details on this topic. I wish you good luck with your search.

Goodbye,
Jen




Okaaaay. So was it wrong of me to be totally weirded out here? Was I too harsh?  Am I the jerk for not wanting to discuss this?

No. 

Personally, I think I should have turned this into a drinking game and taken a shot every time he said the word “unreserved.” I'd have been shitfaced after the first paragraph.  What does it even mean, anyway?

Vote below:

poll by twiigs.com

tags: dating, polls

My Jersey Valentine

February 14th gives me acid reflux.

You can’t avoid it, even if you try, mainly because Hallmark’s bought every other commercial, declaring it the day we say, “I love us.” Or else it’s Kay Jewelers, the Leo Diamond, and marriage proposals in Chinese, Spanish, AND English. Every kiss may begin with Kay but every commercial ends with me throwing up a little in my mouth.

As you know, I’ve recently (reluctantly) reentered the dating scene. Virtually at least. And I can confirm that there’s no shortage of freaks waiting to meet me. The more things change, the more they stay the same. But since I’m waaay out of practice, I’ve decided it would be prudent to take a few lessons from people who have had FAR more experience with the opposite sex than I have.

I’m speaking, of course, of the cast from The Jersey Shore.

I snuggled up on my couch yesterday and read both Here’s the Situation: A Guide to Creeping on Chicks, Avoiding Grenades, and Getting in Your GTL on the Jersey Shore AND The Rules According to JWoww: Shore-Tested Secrets on Landing a Mint Guy, Staying Fresh to Death, and Kicking the Competition to the Curb. To call this a Master Class would be an understatement. I even took notes! 

Consider it my valentine to you.

Absorbing the dating advice in these ghost-written treasures took ALL my brain power. So to fuel my studies, I also ate a box of the most scrumptious mini cupcakes on Earth and watched Valentine’s Day and I Hate Valentine’s Day. I like to cover an issue from all angles.

I would also like to learn to “crush it 24/7.”

So single friends, we’re about to get schooled from 2 individuals who know a LOT about VDay (and also, perhaps, VD)…

ON PHYSICAL ASSETS
Sitch: “Milky white abs make chicks want to puke. Slicked up abdominals encourage the ladies to slip and slide.”
JWoww: “You can’t go wrong with cleavage.”

ON HAIR
Sitch: “Don’t be going to Supercuts. You want a barber who’s craft is cutting hair. It’s his art. He needs to wake up each morning thinking about cutting hair the same way I’m thinking about hitting the gym -- with passion.”
JWoww: “Humidity will make you poodle up.”

ON PERSONAL GROOMING
Sitch: “At a minimum, you’re going to want to shave your chest and six-pack. I trim, but don’t fully shave, my armpits."
JWoww: “An acrylic French mani is a must. No chips or smudges; your fingers should be flawless. Until you bust one scratching some bitch’s eyes out.”

ON CLOTHING
Sitch: “If you’re having difficulty deciding whether or not to purchase a particular garment, there is one sure-fire method left at your disposal. Put the magnetic security tag gently to your ear. If you can hear the faint, distant thumping of bumping club music, buy it.”
JWoww: “If I had to label my personal style, I would say it’s 'Sexy Sophisticated.' Some critics have dubbed it, 'Stripper Chic' -- and I can live with that.”

ON ACCESSORIES
Sitch: “Some cutting edge shirts today include a necklace integrated into the garment itself. If you think this means you don’t have to wear a separate, standalone necklace, you couldn’t be more wrong."
JWoww: “Never leave home without a change of panties. They could come in handy.”

ON PICKUP LINES
Sitch: “So many bros get all hung up on pickup lines, as if it really matters what you say to a girl. If you’ve chosen your target correctly, the first thing you say to her is merely a formality.”
JWoww: “Here’s a no-pressure opener that will get the conversation going: 'Hi.' (Basically, that’s about all a guy needs to hear to get his attention.)”

ON MS/MR WRONG
Sitch: “Nine out of ten times, the grenade is a grenade because she’s ugly and fat.”
JWoww: “Learn to spot a man-whore a mile away. This is a necessity. It will save you time, energy, and aggravation.”

ON DATING
Sitch: “If you roll up to a place out of the blue, having never been there before and having done zero recon, that’s the moment your date will know you’re a clown. Maybe you’ve been to the Olive Garden in Tom’s River, but does that mean you can trust the Olive Garden in Eatontown will be just as classy? Do you know for a fact that the chicken scampi will be succulent and the breadsticks unlimited at this strange new Olive Garden? No, dude, you don’t.”
JWoww: “If he’s interested, he is interested enough to ensure you eat well and get home safely in a cab. No cheap bastard makes a good boyfriend. And if he doesn’t know what a florist is, dump him.”

ON ROMANCE
Sitch: “When you bring a chick from the club back to your shore house, things should progress quickly from there. It’s the Jacuzzi, and then up to your private quarters for some pounding out. After you’ve done your work, you need your rest.”
JWoww: “Reheated pasta never tastes the same. When you serve it as leftovers on Tuesday, it just aint as good. The same goes for relationships. All that’s gonna come from getting back with an ex is heartburn.”

ON THE MORNING AFTER
Sitch: “I need to be aware at all times of the whereabouts of possessions like my cell, wallet, and jewelry. Believe it or not, some girls steal things as a memento of our experience together, as if smooshing wasn’t enough.”
JWoww: “It is a hard-and-fast rule that a Guido will never wife-up a one-nighter.”

A FINAL WORD ON BECOMING MS RIGHT
Sitch: “Once you get beyond the riff-raff at the club (ie: grenade launchers, zoo creatures, hypnotic hyenas, trash bags, etc), girls break down into five categories, from sleeper to keeper:

• Fifth class: purely physical attraction with little to no emotional attachments
• Fourth class: not cute enough to take her places where she’ll be seen, so watch movies on her couch
• Third class: good-looking on the wrong side of gorgeous, take her out but spend your time in the dark
• Second class: a girl you invite to dinner, giving her the full benefit of your GTL rituals
• First class: beautiful, smart, classy, and cooks a mean chicken cutlet -- this is no chick, this is a lady”

So there you have it, sage advice straight from the experts. Makes me proud to call Jersey home. And thankful I can, in fact, cook a mean chicken cutlet. Maybe there’s hope, after all.

You know, all this knowledge is exhilarating!

I feel like I want to conquer new subjects -- like getting my finances in order! I wonder if MC Hammer’s written an investment manual?


tags: dating, holidays, jersey

Can You Hear Me Now?

They say good things come to those who wait.

So, I waited. And waited, and waited, and waaaaiiiiiittted. Then the glorious day came: 02/03/11.

(think Steve Jobs reads my blog?)

Not one to mess around with something so critically important, I'm unashamed to admit that I set my alarm so I could wake up exactly at 3am last Thursday to be one of the first to purchase a Verizon iPhone. It also happened to be my half birthday, and since my full birthday was such crap, this was a happy coincidence.

I didn’t even hit snooze!

Of course, you’d expect nothing less from a #1 fan. And apparently, I wasn’t alone. It’s estimated that over 500K existing Verizon customers purchased the iPhone 4 in the first 17 hours it was available. They had to shut it down because of excessive demand. It’s already the most successful Verizon launch ever -- and it’s not even available in stores. Yet.

Well, I’m thrilled to report that at long last… the Eagle. Has. Landed. Wooohoooo!

It’s like Christmas all over again. But a zillion times better. And I have to say, the whole process couldn’t have gone smoother (more smoothly? Eh, whatever.). I’m totally impressed by the site they set up to handle orders. I logged right on, it recognized me and my pitiful Razr, AND it automatically had my $50 credit listed.

If you listened closely, you could hear a siren go off at VZW headquarters when they saw I finally redeemed it. I’ve been out of contract for YEARS.

Then, I tracked that package like Linda Church tracks a storm.

The National Weather Service has got nothing on me. Origin scan in West Chester, PA! Pack your patience, it just departed Philly!! Arrived in Saddle Brook, NJ!!! Don’t forget the umbrella -- it’s out for delivery from Long Island City!!!!

My doorman signed for it at 5:35 last night. Heaven. And when I got my hot little hands on it after work, all I had to do was sync it with iTunes to activate. No annoying calls to a toll-free number, or worse, having to visit the store to do it in-person. It even came fully charged! Within minutes, I was up and running.

Even the Jetsons never thought of anything this cool. And they could fly.

Oh, the future is now, my friends.

If I could only figure out how to blog from it, I would have. Instead, I sent what I thought was an email (but turns out was actually a text message) to my brother and sister-in-law. I feel like the cavemen must have felt when they discovered fire.

Ahhhh, pretty! But don’t get crazy or you’ll burn your eyebrows off.

I can’t wait to discover everything this new phone can do. As you know, my old cell phone and my iPod were the last remaining connections to my relationship. On the phone were almost a thousand text messages he sent me over the course of our year together, dozens of photos he took, and 2 of his phone numbers. I didn’t have the heart to delete them, mainly because I didn’t have the stomach to go through them. Too much to re-live.

On the iPod were hundreds of songs -- our Infinite Playlist. I used to listen to those songs each day and think of us and our future. Since we broke up, every time one crept into the mix, I couldn’t skip to the next song fast enough. It was like a horrible game of Name That Tune. “I can start bawling in six notes, George.”

I wonder if there’s an app for that?

Anyway, what I love most about this new phone is it’s really a new beginning. I have now checked everything off my list. All ties are cut. I guess it’s taken me this long to finally say goodbye… by saying hello.

So, cheers to new beginnings. And btw there IS an app for that.

What else should I download? Is Angry Birds worth the hype? Enlighten me below.


tags: pop culture, shopping

Let Them Eat Jelly Beans

Today marks the 100th birthday of Ronald Reagan, The Great Communicator. Whether you like him or not, he proved one thing that has benefitted Democrats and Republicans alike…

The #1 requirement to win the US Presidency is personality.

And a great speechwriter.

Even now, I view of our 40th President with child-like nostalgia. I was just 7 years old when he took office in January 1981. It was Oakland vs Philly in Super Bowl XV (Oakland won). Pac-Man fever was sweeping the nation. We were all glued to Dallas and the lives of the Ewings. Raiders of the Lost Ark was tops in the box office. Reading Cujo kept folks up at night. Everyone wished she was Jesse’s Girl. And MTV was born.

The milestones of this presidency are burned in my memory too. I clearly recall coming home from elementary school to find out he’d been shot. I got scared seeing my mother's reaction to the news -- surely she was reminded of JFK. And I remember laughing, years later, when I’d read his first words upon entering the emergency room after nearly being assassinated were, “I hope you’re all Republicans.”

Not bad for a guy 2 months into the job with a bullet lodged near his heart.

I remember laughing during his debate with Mondale, where he promised with a wink, not to “exploit for political purposes, my opponent’s youth and inexperience.” And I wasn't alone, obviously.  He later was re-elected with a record 525 electoral votes, winning every state but Mondale's homestate of Minnesota (and DC). A landslide victory by any count, not plagued by W's hanging chads or ridiculous questions of Obama's US citizenship.

I still can’t read the speech he gave after the Challenger exploded without choking up when they “slip the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God.” Peggy Noonan, you wreck me.

You are dead inside (or maybe a Communist) if you didn’t swell with American pride when he stood in West Berlin insisting, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” Whether you believe it was political strategy and defense missiles or Levis and rock and roll that brought about the collapse of the Soviet Union, we were all saved from the biggest threat of the latter half of the 20th century: nuclear extinction. And it happened without the US firing a single shot.

Freedom is that powerful.

But I remember feeling confused in the wake of Iran-Contra. When asked why he denied trading arms for hostages, he somberly testified, “My heart and my best intentions still tell me that’s true, but the facts and the evidence tell me it is not.” It’s sad to see a President in that position -- whether it was Nixon with Watergate or Clinton and the definition of “is.” These moments remind you that the President is human.

When he stepped out of the spotlight, officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, on the “journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life,” I was reminded of the devastating effect the disease had on my own family. Ever the optimist, even then he believed, “for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead.”

Ten years later as he left the “shining city on a hill,” I felt like we lost a connection to a simpler time. Even though looking back, I'm not sure how I feel about the politics of it all.

He once said you could tell a lot about a person’s character by how they ate jelly beans. His favorite was licorice. So, in honor of the '80s, I’ll be at my brother's house tonight watching Super Bowl XLV in my Phil Simms shirt while popping Jelly Bellies (except for the popcorn-flavored ones – they’re gross).


tags: politics, pop culture

Oh, Just Pull the Trigger Already!

So… I said back in November that it was time to start dating again. And it probably was!

But I didn’t.

It’s the holidays, I thought. Let’s get through that first. Then I was down in Del Boca Vista for a couple of weeks visiting the ‘rents. Too busy playing shuffleboard and eating dinner at 4:30 to meet anyone not eligible for Social Security. And then work got crazy. So I didn't make the time. Then the drain in my tub clogged. I couldn’t possibly start dating with my world in such chaos.

I’m just delaying the inevitable. Procrastinating. Wasting time. You know it, I know it too.

It’s like when you put off making a dentist appointment, which incidentally, I also need to do because I don’t want my teeth to rot inside my head. Similarly, I also do not want to die alone with 14 cats gnawing at my remains. I don’t like cats at all! Especially when they are nibbling my face off.

So, to avoid this grisly fate, I reactivated my profile on Eharmony. Closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. I freshened up a few photos. I updated a few phrases. I dusted off my requirements. And I shelled out $240 to join for a year (yep – you read that right – aren’t you glad you don’t have to do this anymore?).

I chose this site over Match – for now – because it’s like dipping my pinky toe back into the dating pool. There’s a whole communication process you have to go through first that seems less intimidating to me than jumping right into meeting a total stranger for drinks. We all remember how that goes. 

I’m not quite ready for that. Yet.

You might be surprised to hear that I'm giving online dating another chance. But at my advanced age, there are few options for meeting new people. Plus, I still do believe the process can work! I just met the wrong guy. And I suppose, he met the wrong girl. It’s astonishing to me, looking back at how much I put up with. So regardless of the guy I date next -- or the guy after that, or the guy after THAT -- my own personal mission is not to compromise what’s important.

To get as good as I give.

I still believe I can find that guy who will be my best friend. Who will have my back, as I have his. Who will adore me -- quirks and all. Who I can trust will say what he means, and mean what he says. And who I can call before I fall asleep and he’ll know it’s me -- not from the caller ID, but by the sound of my voice.

He’s out there, I think. I hope! And if he’s not... don’t anybody let me buy a cat.


tags: dating

Hello Dolly

Ahem. Is this thing still on?

I know. I’ve neglected this blog -- and the other one -- and YOU. Let's blame work. It’s been a little crazy lately.

Good crazy. And crazy crazy.

I’ve recently been given a few new websites to work on. Of course, I’ve still got the wedding planning site (something old), but now I’ve inherited a food site (something new), which is totally up my alley.

Plus, I’m channeling my days working for the Gnome by taking on a travel site (something borrowed), and they've given me a fashion site too (something blue), just for good measure.  Hope they don't catch on that my fashion sense is just a step past Amish.

Anyway, if I could only clone myself, I’d be all set.

Luckily, I met with a company last week that lets you do just that. And you don’t even have to be a sheep! In fact, it’s preferable if you aren’t.

I should warn you, this is not for the faint of heart.

First, you have to remove all your makeup and take a photo with your hair pulled back off your face. Yikes. Next, you upload the pic and zoom in on each of your facial features to help them understand where everything is. This is when you discover that the left and right sides of your face are not symmetrical.  Or maybe that's just me. But then, the worst is behind you and you can try on hairstyles and makeup until even YOU don’t recognize your own head anymore. Wheeee.

It’s totally fun, and it’s FAR better than actually doing any of these things to yourself permanently.

I don't know about you, but I haven’t had very good luck experimenting over the years. Like the time in the 8th grade when my hair overdosed on Sun-In and I wound up looking like Ronald McDonald’s little sister. With braces. Or the time in the 10th grade that my hairdresser, Conrad, was high on cocaine (true story) and left my perm solution in so long that my hair had the texture of a poodle dipped in honey. Or even the time during my senior year in college when I chopped my hair so short, I could have been mistaken for the guy on the Dutch Boy paint can.

In my experience, beauty can get pretty ugly.

But thanks to the magic of the internet, we can experiment without doing lasting damage -- to our hair, or our psyche.

So, I now know I look awful as a blonde in the Reese Witherspoon (middle left) and as a redhead in the Ashlee Simpson (top right). I see I have a giant forehead in the Victoria Beckham (bottom left). I could be recruited by the Ice Capades in the Christina Applegate (middle right). And I’d probably need to buy some clothes made of hemp to pull off the Jen Aniston (bottom right).

I have to say, though, I kind of liked the Lea Michele (main image).

I even dig the reverse roots that make the ends of our hair a different color than the rest. And while I never load up on the eye makeup like you see here, it makes me believe I could do a smoky eye and not look like a total tramp.

Or a tranny. 

I might even take this look for a spin on a date! Maybe I should practice first on a trip to Gristedes, the grocery store with mini-bar prices…

Anyway, check it out if you get a chance. And if you don’t like your new look, you can just delete it instead of locking yourself in the bathroom, like I did after the Salon Perm Massacre of 1989.

Care to share a hair nightmare?  Do it below.
 

tags: beauty, work

The Land of Make Believe

Let me get this straight: I’m now a tasty crab instead of King of the Jungle?

What’s next? Am I adopted too?

I don’t even know the characteristics of Cancer, because I’m too self-absorbed to find out (a classic Leo trait).

I refuse to let myself get worked up about this new zodiac sign, Ophiuchus. As far as I’m concerned, it does not exist. The gods have NOT spoken. Especially since nobody knows how to pronounce this new word.

The reasons to ignore the existence of the mysterious 13th sign are obvious.

First off, the guy who dropped this astronomical bomb last week, is named Kunkle. That just seems made up to me. Parke Kunkle can pry a Leo horoscope reading from my cold, dead hand (being dramatic is Leo's domain too). Second, someone needs to fire the astrological naming committee because this new sign sounds like a disease -- “Oh, he’s got the Ophiuchus again, don’t let him use your Chapstick.” Third, this is not new news. Apparently, this sign has ALWAYS been jammed in there, if you followed Eastern astrology.

But we don’t.

Now, if you told me the almighty Oprah, an Aquarius, has grown so awesomely powerful that she’s created her own zodiac sign, I would believe that more. But back in reality, we’ve got 12 months, and 12 signs. Period. I was a Leo yesterday, I am a Leo today, and I will be a Leo tomorrow (loyalty, incidentally, is right in Leo's wheelhouse).

It reminds me of a few years back when they announced Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore. Sorry. You can’t just demote a planet. Didn’t they know the saying? My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine… nothings? Um, nooo… it’s Nine Pizzas! You know it, I know it, and every 9th grader in Earth Science knows it too.

I wish people would realize that there’s a difference between an invention/discovery and flat-out make believe.

For example, if someone made a bag of chips with a flat bottom that could also double as a bowl for easy snacking? Now, THAT would be an invention, and a damn good one (if you're listening, Frito Lay, please ditch the noisy Sun Chips bag for this gem).

But changing well-established facts? That’s just a waste of time.

And while we’re on the topic, can the fashion industry please chill out too?

Skinny jeans are a known entity.  They are pants made of denim that are tight-fitting. But jeggings are the wannabes of the pants family.  They are jeans with tons of stretchy lycra baked in so people, like me, who are too fat for skinny jeans can still squeeze into the party. And Pajama Jeans are not jeans at all -- they are jean-colored sweatpants and a total abomination.

Let’s also agree that ankle boots are simply shoes that cover your whole foot and ankle. They are not called "shooties," a cutesy name derived from combining shoes and booties. Or "bootines" (I don't think anyone knows what two words were combined for this one). And don't get me started on the Snuggie, which is nothing but a flimsy backwards robe.

In general, let’s quit making shit up.

But don’t let me be the boss of you (like the Leo that I am). Do you disagree? Or see anything missing? Add it below!


tags: pop culture, shopping

Fun & Games

Did you know 1/11/11 was the 40th anniversary of the card game Uno?

No? Me neither.

But if I’m to believe a couple of guys dressed up as a Wild Card and a Blue #4 who were standing outside Grand Central this morning, it’s true.

Who said one is the loneliest number? I love this game!

I have the BEST childhood memories of playing Uno with my little brother and our grandma. I can remember spending summers at her house in Jersey, sitting in the dining room with its giant wooden chairs.

She was Italian, so every game began with a meal to keep up our strength.  She would buy Entenmann’s lemon pie for me and blueberry crumb for my brother. We’d eat a big ol’ hunk, then we’d break out the cards and play Uno for hours in tournaments that lasted until school started in the fall.

Skip! Reverse! Draw 4! SUCH fun.

Now before you get all, “Awwww,” on me, you should probably know one thing: I cheated my ass off.

(don’t worry, it has since grown back with a vengeance)

You should also know I'm not a dishonest person.  I didn’t initially set out to cheat. In fact, up until my brother was about 5 or 6 years old, I used to just naturally win every single game we played, given our 5 year age difference. But something awful happened when he started the 2nd grade. He got smarter!

So, I turned to a life of crime…

He'd ask all wide-eyed and innocent, “Wanna play Monopoly, Jenny?” Well, sure! And while he turned his back to see what hijinks Gobo was up to down in Fraggle Rock, I’d swap little green houses for big red hotels. And my $50 bills magically became $500s before he could say, “Do not pass Go.”

“Feeling like Scrabble?” Oh yeah! I think I even convinced him that we were supposed to pick eachother’s letters. He never questioned it, even with round after round of letters like XPQZKJY.

“How about a game of Life?” Ab-so-lutely! My little pink and blue peg people multiplied quicker than a wet Gremlin, just so I could collect more cash presents.

“Anyone for Battleship?” This was too EASY! Maybe we played it wrong, but we could never see eachother’s boards, so if F8 was called, suddenly my submarine just scooted across the ocean. Nobody’s sinking MY battleship!

But Uno? Ah, that one really made me flex my phony muscles. It was the ultimate cheating challenge. No board.  No tiny pieces to manipulate.  No paper money to steal.  The real key with Uno was that I always volunteered to shuffle.

Never trust the shuffler.

As the cards made shuffling sounds, I’d quickly slide the good ones onto my lap with my pinky and then pepper them back into the deck so they would come up every 3rd card.  When I dealt, starting on my left, I'd be flush with picture cards and they'd have nothing but numbers. I was like a budding Penn & Teller with my sleight of hand.

Keep in mind, I was like, 12 at the time. But the fun and games came to a SCREECHING halt one day when we were playing Life and my brother caught me with my hand in the money pot. Hoo boy. That was not my finest hour. 

But I think it was a growing experience for us both. He came to realize he could kick my cheating ass, in more ways than one (or uno, if you prefer). And I came to realize that nobody likes a cheater.

Lesson learned!

I don’t cheat at games anymore.  Mainly because they all watch me like a hawk.  I'm pretty positive that the minute my brother reads this blog post, he's going to fire off an email to me (he maaay still be a little bitter). But I do hope he will also remember the fun times we had as kids playing games like Uno.

I can't wait to eat pie and play games with his kids too. And I promise NOT to teach them how to play "Aunt Jenny Style."

What was YOUR favorite game to play (or to cheat)?  Confess below...


tags: family, jersey, pop culture

Dear Steve Jobs,

There’s a lot going on in the world these days. 100,000 fish just dropped dead in Arkansas. Australia is under water. Snowmageddon paralyzed the whole eastern seaboard last week. Brad Womack is back as the Bachelor.

But I’m laser-focused on one thing: Verizon getting the iPhone.

I check the news daily and I read discussion boards I don’t really even understand, desperately searching for kernels of information, rumors, whispers, and other assorted propaganda. I’ve asked sweet baby Jesus. I’ve asked Santa Claus. And now I’m asking you…

When are you releasing a Verzon iPhone?

I know you handed over the iPad. It's not enough. I need the phone. Just give me a date! We all know it’s coming! But WHEN?? I can’t wait much longer.

Do you SEE the ridiculous junk I’m still carrying in the hopes that my dream phone is right around the corner? It might as well be a tin can and a string.

I bought my Motorola Razr like 6 YEARS ago because I saw it on Entourage and thought it was cool. Even Johnny Drama has moved on by now! And don’t even get me started on my iPod. It belongs in a museum at this point. Plus the battery dies whenever it’s cold outside.

Like now.


It’s not right to make me suffer this way!

Verizon telemarketers don’t even bother to call me anymore to upgrade. Even THEY think I am a lost cause and they have horribly low standards. I see their flashy commercials, but I am not tempted. Incredible?  Ha!  I say Droid Schmoid. I’m holding out for the iPhone. And only YOU can make that happen.

I long for the day that I can download useless apps. I vow to cherish every swipe of my shiny new iTunes library. And I will honor my awesome video chat capabilities by putting on lip gloss before every single call I make.  That's a promise.

I will, in fact, marry my Verizon iPhone.

You know, the Consumer Electronics Expo starts on Thursday. Might that be a convenient time for you to steal the spotlight with this exciting news? I hear Verizon’s CEO is a keynote speaker. I’m sure he’d share the mic with you. Maybe give him a call. From your iPhone.

Otherwise, I think your birthday is coming up. Please, please, please take pity and give yourself the gift of ME. And roughly 90MM other Verizon Wireless customers.

But mostly, me.

iThank you for your time,
Your #1 Verizon iPhone Fan

 
tags: pop culture, shopping