Tuesday, August 21, 2007
bragging
Guys, my brother-in-law made this video and it's so cute! Remember me mentioning my incredibly astute brother-in-law McKay? Well, here's his latest. Manda, hope it's okay to do this, it's just too good not to share.
Labels: love and stuff so
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
four days with eharmony
A friend and I decided to set up profiles on eHarmony. Why? For the blog. I do all this for you. It’s true. I’m not looking for dates, I’m good with that for a change. But I always need something to blog about. And my mouth salivated when my friend suggested an online dating profile. The entertainment value from one online dating account is sure to divert both me and…well really just me. Which is all I care about. Yeah, yeah, save the spotted tiger, stop the rain forests, yadda yadda. How many comments?! How many?! Two?! This world is utterly pointless if I get only two comments. I need more love than that. I figure in order to get the love, you gotta find the love. Cyber style. So here we go.
Pollyanna said Abraham Lincoln said: “When you look for the bad in people, expecting to find it, you surely will.” Wise, wise words. So here’s me proving that Abe is, to quote Alan Jackson, right on the money with that little phrase.
Over the last four days, eHarmony has “matched” me with a staggering 17 eligible bachelors. Oodles Boodles! I read all 17 profiles, and have extracted some of my favorite parts from each. I will mention only 10 bachelors, not because there’s nothing juicy to report from all 17 of them. I just think 17 is too long for one post, it’s overkill. If you really want to hear about the other 7, I’ll email you separately. So let’s begin:
Oh, and before I do, let me just say…the only thing I have edited is their names. Everything else is completely accurate, and I can prove it.
First we have Carl. Carl is 45 and lives in a rural part of northern California. The 3 things Carl is thankful for are God, his family and that he’s an American. Carl operates an RV Park and owns several mules. It’s like I was reading myself. A perfect bullesye, eHarm.
Next is Javier, 37 who stands 5’ 5”. The last book Javier read was, and I quote, “the left behind series the series about the apocolips.” Javier works with juvenile delinquents. I imagine the quotes from his “apocolipstick” reading he shares in group sessions would prove a powerful tool to get Tina to stop setting her mother on fire.
Tim, 36, thinks global warming is myth.
Casey, 37, is in sales, and says his personality is “what he does for a living.” What does that mean, Aristotle? You know what I do for a living? Seashore.
Orlando, 35, has six toes.
“…this little piggie had roast beef, and this little piggie had none. And this little piggie…oh. Um. This little piggy, and then this little piggy, went backpacking in the Adirondacks. And This little piggy pushed this little piggy off a cliff, who went ‘weee weee weee weee’ all the way down.”
Kevin, 45, keeps a personal autographed photo of Marie Osmond under his pillow. Blast. I don’t look a thing like Marie Osmond.
Michael, 31, and a school teacher, says: “I’am most passionate about kind and loving others.” And in case you thought maybe he’s just a sloppy typist, here is the next sentence: “I’am most passionate about music.” Michael also speaks Spanish and French. But no one understands him in those languages either.
Saul, 33, loves anything to do with eagles. Loves eagles. Also Tony Robbins. Also, “making it happen.” Also, there goes my lunch.
Adam is 40 years old, lives in the Silicon Valley, and lists three different high-profile professions under Occupation. Under “Who is Adam’s most influential person” Adam writes, “Heavenly Father, need I say more?” Yes, Adam. You really do. But first, take back everything you’ve already said.
Adam’s got a lot of balls juggling, he says, but never fear. “If there’s chemistry, you’ll be Priority 1.” Wow, really? Priority 1? I mean, if there’s chemistry, of course. Sure. I understand. Gosh, I mean…thanks. With all your balls…and stuff. It must be...juggling.
And finally, there is Sean. Sean, 33, says the first thing you’ll notice about him is his “…energy level. I am extremely high energy though I am also laid back and relaxed for the most part.” I know what you mean, Sean. It’s like with me: I’m a total narcolept, like I am always sleeping, but I am also like such an insomniac and unable to get any real sleep at all for the most part.
In conclusion, eHarmony’s field is white. Just four days, and what treasures! It’s astonishing to think, based on my four day experience with this company, that they actually reject certain applicants from posting profiles on their website. What kind of three-eyed homicidal hermaphrodite does it take to get turned down by eHarmony?
My boss’ husband, for one. He then went to Match.com and found the love of his life. They just celebrated their wedding anniversary, and couldn’t be happier. So, folks, the moral of this story, is….you tell me.
Pollyanna said Abraham Lincoln said: “When you look for the bad in people, expecting to find it, you surely will.” Wise, wise words. So here’s me proving that Abe is, to quote Alan Jackson, right on the money with that little phrase.
Over the last four days, eHarmony has “matched” me with a staggering 17 eligible bachelors. Oodles Boodles! I read all 17 profiles, and have extracted some of my favorite parts from each. I will mention only 10 bachelors, not because there’s nothing juicy to report from all 17 of them. I just think 17 is too long for one post, it’s overkill. If you really want to hear about the other 7, I’ll email you separately. So let’s begin:
Oh, and before I do, let me just say…the only thing I have edited is their names. Everything else is completely accurate, and I can prove it.
First we have Carl. Carl is 45 and lives in a rural part of northern California. The 3 things Carl is thankful for are God, his family and that he’s an American. Carl operates an RV Park and owns several mules. It’s like I was reading myself. A perfect bullesye, eHarm.
Next is Javier, 37 who stands 5’ 5”. The last book Javier read was, and I quote, “the left behind series the series about the apocolips.” Javier works with juvenile delinquents. I imagine the quotes from his “apocolipstick” reading he shares in group sessions would prove a powerful tool to get Tina to stop setting her mother on fire.
Tim, 36, thinks global warming is myth.
Casey, 37, is in sales, and says his personality is “what he does for a living.” What does that mean, Aristotle? You know what I do for a living? Seashore.
Orlando, 35, has six toes.
“…this little piggie had roast beef, and this little piggie had none. And this little piggie…oh. Um. This little piggy, and then this little piggy, went backpacking in the Adirondacks. And This little piggy pushed this little piggy off a cliff, who went ‘weee weee weee weee’ all the way down.”
Kevin, 45, keeps a personal autographed photo of Marie Osmond under his pillow. Blast. I don’t look a thing like Marie Osmond.
Michael, 31, and a school teacher, says: “I’am most passionate about kind and loving others.” And in case you thought maybe he’s just a sloppy typist, here is the next sentence: “I’am most passionate about music.” Michael also speaks Spanish and French. But no one understands him in those languages either.
Saul, 33, loves anything to do with eagles. Loves eagles. Also Tony Robbins. Also, “making it happen.” Also, there goes my lunch.
Adam is 40 years old, lives in the Silicon Valley, and lists three different high-profile professions under Occupation. Under “Who is Adam’s most influential person” Adam writes, “Heavenly Father, need I say more?” Yes, Adam. You really do. But first, take back everything you’ve already said.
Adam’s got a lot of balls juggling, he says, but never fear. “If there’s chemistry, you’ll be Priority 1.” Wow, really? Priority 1? I mean, if there’s chemistry, of course. Sure. I understand. Gosh, I mean…thanks. With all your balls…and stuff. It must be...juggling.
And finally, there is Sean. Sean, 33, says the first thing you’ll notice about him is his “…energy level. I am extremely high energy though I am also laid back and relaxed for the most part.” I know what you mean, Sean. It’s like with me: I’m a total narcolept, like I am always sleeping, but I am also like such an insomniac and unable to get any real sleep at all for the most part.
In conclusion, eHarmony’s field is white. Just four days, and what treasures! It’s astonishing to think, based on my four day experience with this company, that they actually reject certain applicants from posting profiles on their website. What kind of three-eyed homicidal hermaphrodite does it take to get turned down by eHarmony?
My boss’ husband, for one. He then went to Match.com and found the love of his life. They just celebrated their wedding anniversary, and couldn’t be happier. So, folks, the moral of this story, is….you tell me.
Labels: love and stuff so
Thursday, July 05, 2007
besides the strong arms, sweet smile...
Do you want to know what is really, really attractive? A guy who knows how to forgive. He can let it go, he can leave it alone, he holds zero judgment, and once you apologize, he can just plain not care about it, because he knows it might just as easily be him in the stupid seat next time around.
I want to be a woman who knows how to forgive.
You know what really draws me to a guy? Seeing his personal connection with Heavenly Father by the way he interacts with other people, what he says to them and about them, how he listens, how he cares.
I want people to know God lives by the way I love people.
You want to know what is sexy? A righteous man. Gets me every time.
I want to be a woman who knows how to forgive.
You know what really draws me to a guy? Seeing his personal connection with Heavenly Father by the way he interacts with other people, what he says to them and about them, how he listens, how he cares.
I want people to know God lives by the way I love people.
You want to know what is sexy? A righteous man. Gets me every time.
Labels: love and stuff so
Friday, June 22, 2007
a bend in the rule
So I never write about my dating life. It’s just too…it’s just not a good idea. If I ever get married, I’ll let you know, but I’m not writing about the ins and outs of my male entanglements. Be that as it may, I have to write about the date I went on last night. I’ll say right off the bat that this is not one of those really bad date stories where you feel sorry for me. This was a really, really good date.
I shall call my date Reggie. This is not his real name.
Reggie came to pick me up at my place at 6:00, only I hadn’t come home from work yet. He waited for me and got to know my roommates and my sister, all of whom cried out in unison when I came home from the date, “Reggie is soooo hot!” Reggie is quite handsome, but that’s not his real name.
We drove to Winthrop, a small Boston harbor town, very close to Deer Island (for those familiar) for an Italian seafood dinner. Reggie told me, “It looks like a dive, which makes the experience all the more unbelievable. This food will blow your mind.” He wasn’t kidding. Reggie had the lobster ravioli and I chose the shrimp artichoke ravioli. I never wanted it to end. And the bread…the bread. Mother’s love, the bread.
After dinner, we walked for a while, wherein I learned more about Reggie’s PhD pursuits at a very prestigious technical college located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Reggie is a genius. Reggie is breaking new ground and getting his professors tenure because of his discoveries. Reggie gets extra animated when he explains how all the stuff he’s uncovering all testifies of Jesus Christ and Creation, and the divine structure of the universe. It’s really fun to see him talk about it. Did I mention his name is not really Reggie?
The clouds above us turned an ominous gray, but that doesn’t stop Reggie from continuing with his plan to take me out to Deer Island for an amazing view of the Boston skyline. Once again, he wasn’t kidding, particularly last night’s view. A storm had unleashed itself on Boston, but it hadn’t reached the island yet. It’s sunset. To the left is the city and the harbor, to the right is the Atlantic and pretty lighthouses. Above the ocean, pinks and oranges and blues. Above Boston, deep purples, dark grays, and lightning strikes. Gorgeous bolts so big they look like the sky is cracking open. And here we are, watching this on top of a hill, bone dry, and scream-laughing with every strike.
On the walk back down the hill it comes out that I’ve never been to Top of the Hub. I thought Reggie was going to choke on his own tonsil. He didn’t. He quickly recovered and announced matter-of-factly: “We’re going. We’re getting dessert there. Let’s go.”
Reggie is a fictitious name.
For non-Bostonians, Top of the Hub is a swankster restaurant which sits on the top of a big business building called the Prudential Center. Its walls are floor-to-ceiling windows, it boasts a panaromic view of Boston.
By the time we get to the car, it had just begun to sprinkle. Five minutes into the drive, it was pouring. Perfect timing, we thought. By the time we reached the restaurant, the rain reduced itself to a drizzle. More perfect timing, we thought. The storm had blown out, leaving a clear night sky. We took the elevator to the fifty-second floor.
We were greeted by the snobby hostess with the phenomenal body and the English accent. Reggie asks for a table. Hostess chick slips us an FYI: $24 per person minimum after 8:00 p.m. I’m ready to leave right then. “Thanks anyway.” I say. Reggie replies, “We’ve just come for dessert. Is it possible to just get dessert?” Hostess chick says, “Of course, so long as you order $24 per person’s worth of dessert.” Cute. “Thanks anyway,” I say again, and look at Reggie with the “let’s just go” eyes. But Reggie’s not finished. He points to me and says to Hostess chick, “she’s never been here, and tonight is so beautiful. What if we just walked around for minute? I want to show her.” No. “Well,” Reggie tries, “what about if we sat at the bar?” There’s only a seat for one. By this point, I’m totally ready to give up. I’m pleading with Reggie, “It doesn’t have to be tonight, Reggie. It’s okay.” Reggie turns to me in total seriousness and kindly says, “No, Mary. It has to be tonight.” I didn’t really call him Reggie, since that’s not his real name. But Reggie’s the name I’m using for this story. So that’s why I wrote Reggie.
Reggie’s looks and charm finally wore Hostess chick down. At last she laughed and gave me this warning, “Watch out for this one, friend. He doesn’t take no for an answer!” She then directed us to a spot where we could order a couple of drinks and stand in front of a spectacular view of northeast Boston. I couldn’t believe it. She completely caved. She gave us an amazing spot. I’ve learned a valuable life lesson here. Persistence pays off, and Reggie is a charmer. Even if his name is Reggie. Which it’s not.
I wish I could paint with words the expression on the bartender’s face when Reggie proudly ordered: “Two Shirley Temples, please!”
We walked all over the restaurant, toting our Temples, and looking out the windows. Unbelievable. I just smiled and smiled.
The drive home we just raved about how perfect everything was. The food, the scenery, the walk, the storm, the rain, the Hub, the Shirley Temples, the bartender…it was perfect!
You know what, I changed my mind. I think I want to call him Vlad.
I shall call my date Reggie. This is not his real name.
Reggie came to pick me up at my place at 6:00, only I hadn’t come home from work yet. He waited for me and got to know my roommates and my sister, all of whom cried out in unison when I came home from the date, “Reggie is soooo hot!” Reggie is quite handsome, but that’s not his real name.
We drove to Winthrop, a small Boston harbor town, very close to Deer Island (for those familiar) for an Italian seafood dinner. Reggie told me, “It looks like a dive, which makes the experience all the more unbelievable. This food will blow your mind.” He wasn’t kidding. Reggie had the lobster ravioli and I chose the shrimp artichoke ravioli. I never wanted it to end. And the bread…the bread. Mother’s love, the bread.
After dinner, we walked for a while, wherein I learned more about Reggie’s PhD pursuits at a very prestigious technical college located in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Reggie is a genius. Reggie is breaking new ground and getting his professors tenure because of his discoveries. Reggie gets extra animated when he explains how all the stuff he’s uncovering all testifies of Jesus Christ and Creation, and the divine structure of the universe. It’s really fun to see him talk about it. Did I mention his name is not really Reggie?
The clouds above us turned an ominous gray, but that doesn’t stop Reggie from continuing with his plan to take me out to Deer Island for an amazing view of the Boston skyline. Once again, he wasn’t kidding, particularly last night’s view. A storm had unleashed itself on Boston, but it hadn’t reached the island yet. It’s sunset. To the left is the city and the harbor, to the right is the Atlantic and pretty lighthouses. Above the ocean, pinks and oranges and blues. Above Boston, deep purples, dark grays, and lightning strikes. Gorgeous bolts so big they look like the sky is cracking open. And here we are, watching this on top of a hill, bone dry, and scream-laughing with every strike.
On the walk back down the hill it comes out that I’ve never been to Top of the Hub. I thought Reggie was going to choke on his own tonsil. He didn’t. He quickly recovered and announced matter-of-factly: “We’re going. We’re getting dessert there. Let’s go.”
Reggie is a fictitious name.
For non-Bostonians, Top of the Hub is a swankster restaurant which sits on the top of a big business building called the Prudential Center. Its walls are floor-to-ceiling windows, it boasts a panaromic view of Boston.
By the time we get to the car, it had just begun to sprinkle. Five minutes into the drive, it was pouring. Perfect timing, we thought. By the time we reached the restaurant, the rain reduced itself to a drizzle. More perfect timing, we thought. The storm had blown out, leaving a clear night sky. We took the elevator to the fifty-second floor.
We were greeted by the snobby hostess with the phenomenal body and the English accent. Reggie asks for a table. Hostess chick slips us an FYI: $24 per person minimum after 8:00 p.m. I’m ready to leave right then. “Thanks anyway.” I say. Reggie replies, “We’ve just come for dessert. Is it possible to just get dessert?” Hostess chick says, “Of course, so long as you order $24 per person’s worth of dessert.” Cute. “Thanks anyway,” I say again, and look at Reggie with the “let’s just go” eyes. But Reggie’s not finished. He points to me and says to Hostess chick, “she’s never been here, and tonight is so beautiful. What if we just walked around for minute? I want to show her.” No. “Well,” Reggie tries, “what about if we sat at the bar?” There’s only a seat for one. By this point, I’m totally ready to give up. I’m pleading with Reggie, “It doesn’t have to be tonight, Reggie. It’s okay.” Reggie turns to me in total seriousness and kindly says, “No, Mary. It has to be tonight.” I didn’t really call him Reggie, since that’s not his real name. But Reggie’s the name I’m using for this story. So that’s why I wrote Reggie.
Reggie’s looks and charm finally wore Hostess chick down. At last she laughed and gave me this warning, “Watch out for this one, friend. He doesn’t take no for an answer!” She then directed us to a spot where we could order a couple of drinks and stand in front of a spectacular view of northeast Boston. I couldn’t believe it. She completely caved. She gave us an amazing spot. I’ve learned a valuable life lesson here. Persistence pays off, and Reggie is a charmer. Even if his name is Reggie. Which it’s not.
I wish I could paint with words the expression on the bartender’s face when Reggie proudly ordered: “Two Shirley Temples, please!”
We walked all over the restaurant, toting our Temples, and looking out the windows. Unbelievable. I just smiled and smiled.
The drive home we just raved about how perfect everything was. The food, the scenery, the walk, the storm, the rain, the Hub, the Shirley Temples, the bartender…it was perfect!
You know what, I changed my mind. I think I want to call him Vlad.
Labels: love and stuff so
Friday, October 27, 2006
gary allan
This man makes me weak.
Do yourself a favor: download this man’s music: Right Where I Need To Be, Life Ain’t Always Beautiful, Man to Man, his cover of Blink 182's "Best I Ever Had" - - anything really. Good stuff.
My friend Tania and I saw Rascal Flatts a couple weeks ago, and Gary opened the show. Mommy. The man is beautiful. He was in this tattered old red t-shirt, blue jeans, his hair had grown out a little, and his face was scruffy. He’s a bit thinner than photos I found online; maybe it has something to do with his wife’s death two years ago. His devastation is more evident in his music than in his appearance. Of course, bleeding hearts of countless women everywhere are busting wide open for this baby doll.
The most remarkable thing about him, though, was his genuine humility and gratitude for everyone in that arena. During instrumental breaks, he’d just look around at us in wonder, shaking his head. It was a beautiful thing to watch a sorrowful man stare out into his blessings and quietly take it in.
Anyway, y’all better take a listen.
Labels: love and stuff so
Friday, September 15, 2006
love and stuff so
The following chat reveals a few highly important items of note:
1. Sometimes girls will share emails they receive from boys they date with their girlfriends. Be advised.
2. Very good information here for guys wanting to make up for stupid things they say to women. Be advised.
3. I am such a sucker for tales of young love. Be afraid.
[Mary’s Friend sends email.]
[I read one of the sweetest emails I’ve ever read to a pretty girl from a smitten boy who sort of put his foot in his mouth the night before, and thought of something nice to say to make up for it.]
1. Sometimes girls will share emails they receive from boys they date with their girlfriends. Be advised.
2. Very good information here for guys wanting to make up for stupid things they say to women. Be advised.
3. I am such a sucker for tales of young love. Be afraid.
Mary’s Friend: Dude. [Boy] and I are really good for each other. I realized like the only things I don't like about him are shallow: his speaking voice, not being able to sing, and being skinny. Only 3 things. Not bad.
me: hahahaaa! you are hilarious. i think you're really good for
him. i think he becomes more himself every day because of you. i don't mean that to sound as if you're not getting anything positive out of it. you obviously are.
Mary’s Friend: haha. Yes, I know.
me: i love that you get all excited about him.
Mary’s Friend: haha
me: and he is very kind to you.
Mary’s Friend: He TOTALLY is!
me: yeah. i'm just saying, you're kinda making him into a man. and that’s awesome.
Mary’s Friend: He actually said that!
me: really? that's too creepy.
Mary’s Friend: He said: "the things that i
found unnatural to do before, just come so naturally... i guess i just needed someone to inspire me to do them..." So, not in so many words, but the same idea.
me: that's soooo cool that he said that! i love it!!!
Mary’s Friend: I know... he's so cute.
me: yaaaaay!
Mary’s Friend: And I should forward this email to you that he sent me.
me: oh yeah?
[Mary’s Friend sends email.]
Mary’s Friend: You got it?
me: kay, got it. reading...
[I read one of the sweetest emails I’ve ever read to a pretty girl from a smitten boy who sort of put his foot in his mouth the night before, and thought of something nice to say to make up for it.]
me: q3[4 9ttu 2q[05 9ua4v!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!! i love it!
Mary’s Friend: haha Isn't it sweet? It's perfect for me.
me: his finishing with "You're beautiful." is absolute genius. Gold stars for that.
Mary’s Friend: Exactly what I needed. Haha!
me: guys should just know that every email needs to end with "you are beautiful". every time. it never gets old.
Mary’s Friend: I know! That would be SO awesome! Thanks for lettin' me gush. You're a gem.
me: please. i live for this crap. i should be thanking you.
Labels: love and stuff so
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