When I was in the first grade, each classroom had a time to meet with the school counselor. We spent time talking about feelings, how to treat people, and what to do in various situation. During these sessions the counselor would bring out this stuffed animal, a dolphin, called Duso. Before Duso would emerge, we'd have to sing, "Hey Duso, come on out.... something something something I can't remember now". During one of these sessions, Duso and the counselor, explained to us how everyone has an "ILAC" card. A what? Yes, an ILAC card (I Am Lovable and Capable) inside of them that can be showered with love, kindness, meaness, etc. For example, if someone hurts your feelings, they rip your card. Pretty basic stuff there, afterall, it was a program for elementary school kids.
This leads me to today. Yes, this very day. I titled this ILAC but I could have also called it Match #4. So, I connected on match with this guy, Deon, who initiated communication to me via email. His profile was cool, pictures nice, so we exchanged numbers, sent a few texts. Today we decided to just meet briefly to see if there was any chemistry or in-person interest. Turns out, there was. He was good looking, funny, employed (2 jobs even), and complimentary. After the meet, he sent a text saying that it was good to meet me and he thought that I was pretty and he'd call me when he gets off work at 9pm. All good things. About an hour later, he asks (via text) how many children I have and I tell him. His response to my answer, "Whoa!!! Ok. Um, how old are you again?" I'm irritated. I refer him back to my match profile and let him know that I'm not hiding anything... He sends me a text back, "Lol." That was the last communication.
Summary: I hate to admit it, but his reaction "ripped" my ILAC card and hurt my little feelings. Why? Mainly because it was unexpected-all this information IS on my profile so when you contact me, you know what's up. As for my ILAC card; nothing a little tape won't fix.
Verdict: No match. This is grown woman territory; step up or as "Martin" used to say, "Get to steppin'!". Also, I like a man who can read and does not randomly use "lol"....
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Key Lime Pie!
Now, it's true, this happened a while ago, but I had a sudden rememberance in the car the other day and thought I'd share it. On the side of fairness, I must say that there have been, and I dare say, will continue to be, times when I will or should be the "butt" of the blog so to speak. This is one such occasion...
I love the Cheesecake Factory. I do I do I do. I have yet, knock on wood, to have a bad meal there or bad drink or even bad service. And cheesecake? In a multitude of full fat flavorful yumminess? If ever food was love, it would be at the Cheesecake Factory. So, I am out to dinner with a guy-Mark. Mark and I are seated by the host and provided with water, menus, nothing out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary and which I have never, never ever, had happen to me before or since, was the waiter. What is this extraordinary thing about this waiter you say? His BREATH!!! He squatted down at the end of our table to take our order and I had to hold my breath. It was incredible, unbelievable, unfathomable that his breath could smell like that and he be allowed to serve food. It had to be a health violation of some sort.... In anycase, he took our order. He returned later with the food and this time I was prepared-I saw him coming and held my breath the whole time, answering him in mmmhmmms and ahhhnnns. I even held it for a few seconds after he left, just to be sure.
Dinner was wonderful. I consumed with abandon. When it was time to leave, our waiter returned and asked if we wanted to order dessert. I ordered the Key Lime flavored cheesecake to go (I did not want to regret these missed calories later!). Unfortunately, during the ordering of this magnificent dessert, I caught a whiff of THE BREATH. I am not, I repeat, not, exaggerating the rankness of this waiter's breath. I excused myself from the table, feeling quite nauseous, and damn near burst into the women's restroom.... and relieved my stomach of the delicious meal it had not yet digested. That's right people. His breath made me vomit.
Summary: I took my key lime cheesecake home but could not eat it-just the idea of it now made me whoosy. I could not eat it the day after or the day after that either so I threw it away. I did not go to the Cheesecake Factory for about four months and when I finally did.... I was virgin scared. But got over it. :)
Verdict: I emerged from the restroom and returned to the table, flushed, sweaty, and probably not all that attractive looking. I'm sure my date was wondering what my problem was, so if you read some guys blog about this... let a sistah know!
I love the Cheesecake Factory. I do I do I do. I have yet, knock on wood, to have a bad meal there or bad drink or even bad service. And cheesecake? In a multitude of full fat flavorful yumminess? If ever food was love, it would be at the Cheesecake Factory. So, I am out to dinner with a guy-Mark. Mark and I are seated by the host and provided with water, menus, nothing out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary and which I have never, never ever, had happen to me before or since, was the waiter. What is this extraordinary thing about this waiter you say? His BREATH!!! He squatted down at the end of our table to take our order and I had to hold my breath. It was incredible, unbelievable, unfathomable that his breath could smell like that and he be allowed to serve food. It had to be a health violation of some sort.... In anycase, he took our order. He returned later with the food and this time I was prepared-I saw him coming and held my breath the whole time, answering him in mmmhmmms and ahhhnnns. I even held it for a few seconds after he left, just to be sure.
Dinner was wonderful. I consumed with abandon. When it was time to leave, our waiter returned and asked if we wanted to order dessert. I ordered the Key Lime flavored cheesecake to go (I did not want to regret these missed calories later!). Unfortunately, during the ordering of this magnificent dessert, I caught a whiff of THE BREATH. I am not, I repeat, not, exaggerating the rankness of this waiter's breath. I excused myself from the table, feeling quite nauseous, and damn near burst into the women's restroom.... and relieved my stomach of the delicious meal it had not yet digested. That's right people. His breath made me vomit.
Summary: I took my key lime cheesecake home but could not eat it-just the idea of it now made me whoosy. I could not eat it the day after or the day after that either so I threw it away. I did not go to the Cheesecake Factory for about four months and when I finally did.... I was virgin scared. But got over it. :)
Verdict: I emerged from the restroom and returned to the table, flushed, sweaty, and probably not all that attractive looking. I'm sure my date was wondering what my problem was, so if you read some guys blog about this... let a sistah know!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)