The High School Prom and Life's Lessons

As I approached 30 minutes on the exer-cycle, I overheard a couple of burly men in the free-weights section of my local gym. While flexing, they talked about, not 'roids, but the high school prom. "Yeah, my daughter's going to prom." ~ Huff, puff, flex. ~ "How about your boy?" ~Flex.~  "He's 17, right?"

All these years later and talk of the prom fills my every blood vessel with an intense, beastly nausea.  You see, the first and the last time I mustered the courage to ask a guy on a date was for the high school prom. It went down as follows. [This is also a snippet from the novel I'm supposedly working super hard on, Woman on the Verge of Paradise.]
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I viewed my right hand in slow motion, shaking uncontrollably. I witnessed the index finger gently compress each numbered square on the receiver, one by one, until the seventh was pushed. As my heart readied to leave my body, I experienced lengthy oxygenated inhalations but couldn’t exhale.

 Ring. Ring. “Hello.”

“Hi Brad?”

“Yes.”

“This is Robyn.”

“Hi.”

“Hi. Um, I was wondering if you’re going to the prom?”

“No, I’m not going.”

“Oh…audible silence for about a year…okaybye.” Click.

Tantrums ceased 3.5 hours later.

 ~~~~

Ultimately, prom night was mundane. I watched television and turned in early. All that hype and nobody at school muttered a word about it the next day either. How quickly the monumental becomes the petty. If only today’s youth understood mom’s message during one of my moments of bleak hysteria: “Everything’s going to be alright.” We live so many lifetimes in one. Dreams shift, reality transforms, and emotional resiliency pushes us through. The true misfits are the ones who don’t think they are.

Penetration Testing: Reasons for Celibacy #232-239

Admittedly, chronic celibacy stirs boredom and frustration. It's not nearly as tiresome, though, as sifting through today's available specimens. Take, for example, the following fragments of men's internet dating ads: reasons 232 through 239 for my celibate existence.  As always, I've included italicized commentary at no extra charge. Enjoy (?)
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REASON #232: You've slept with worse???? (Message for pic)    

Without the photo, I can’t say for sure, though I probably have.

REASON #233: Everyone look at me

How? You didn’t post a photo. Oh, we’re supposed to see that you’re a 25 year old, 6 foot tall DOCTOR with an athletic body and a crafty personality? You certainly are “crafty” if that means “a lying bozo.”

REASON #234: Trying to find a beatiful woman

You  mean, you’re looking for someone who’s into BDSM?EL James is taken and that's not my thing. Good luck elsewhere.

REASON #235: Want some that has there life but would like to shear some with some too.

I’m confused. Are you into sheep? 'Cuz this website is more for the fishy type.

REASON #236: All women are excellent drivers

That’s an interesting factoid, babe, but I don’t suggest getting behind the wheel with Lindsay Lohan, Snooki or Barbara Bush.

REASON #237: I like sports,movie theather,,read book,,Im respectful, caring, honest, easygoing,healthy,clean with nice behaviour guy,im open for any music I listen to everything,I love to traveling,camping,I love outdoor im possitve guy with high energy , if you have any queastion please ask

Ok, I don’t mean to be politically incorrect, but is English your third language?

REASON #238: i plan to work as a penetration tester for a career.

Don’t all men? [I mean, aside from my gentlemanly reader(s), of course.]

REASON #239: lets play hide the sausage

And you’re suggesting this game because…small things are easy to hide?

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Postscript: I'd never heard of "penetration testing" as a career path. Have you?It seems, based on the rest of his boring ad, that # 238 is serious. So I did a bit of research. Here's what I learned from this link.

What is penetration testing?

The term "penetration testing" is an industry buzzword, which used to mean something quite specific, but is now commonly used by customers to refer to just about any type of security testing. We won't be bucking the trend either; we know a dead horse when we see one.  

Heck, I do too. That's why I prefer to bypass the novice tester and pay for professional services.

The general process tends to be that your systems get tested, and then at the end you receive a report that highlights all the insecure areas that need attention, along with advice on how to fix them.  

Better yet: I'll compile a comprehensive list of said insecure regions needing special attention. You'll send your best man for the job. Thank you.

The Latest in Chocolate, Kashi Cookies

It had been a painstaking 4.25 hours since I had chocolate (in the form of chocolate cereal with a cup 'o suisse mocha), so I needed my fix this afternoon. I thus scoured the shelves of Raley's and chose healthy-ish chocolate for a change: Kashi's Chocolate Almond Butter Soft-Baked Cookies. The box is marked "New!" and "All Natural." It had to be good.

Well, it IS good. With only 7g of sugar, 5% saturated fat, and 130 calories per serving, the healthiness factor of these cookies beats most other popular snacks. Plus, they even have a touch of iron and protein. What about the taste? I've sampled 4 so far. They've all been hearty, chunky, rich, and yummy, not overly sweet. I recommend them as a much-healthier-than-usual chocolate indulgence.

I give these cookies a 9, and I'm excited to have discovered them. Let me know if you have tried or do try them.

Note: I am not being compensated by Kashi for this endorsement. These opinions are strictly my own. In my opinion, they should provide me and my followers with a year's worth of free Chocolate Almond Butter Cookies.


Have a sweet, rich, healthy day!

Roses and Bad Signage

 

Hi, friends.

I hope this finds you safe, well, and feeling fortunate that you're safe and well.

Thanks for visiting Chico, CA for Sundays in My City, hosted by the ever gracious Unknown Mami. To embark on a fascinating tour of bloggers' hometowns, go HERE.
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  "What's in a name? 

That which we call a rose
 

...by any other name would smell as sweet." - Romeo and Juliet

Now that you're relaxed, can you count the errors in this sign (You'll need to enlarge it.)? I can't. There are too many.  

My favorite: "we reserve the right to refuse use at our discreation."

The historic bridge (Honeyrun Bridge in Chico, en route to Paradise) 

Happy Sunday and new week.

My New 40 Year Old Book

Note: this is a re-post from 11/10. A few of you commented on it back then, including Alex, who noted that the parents were rather young (10 and 12 years old) when they had kids. Oops. What did I know? Not much less than I do now.... 

Robyn's New Book was released on January 31, 1973, when I was 6. It's self-illustrated, self-edited, self-published, and stapled together by self. Not to brag, but I was a better artist and stapler then than I am now. Some of the words got cut off, especially as the plot thickens (damn publisher!), but I hope you can decipher the deeper meaning.

See the palm trees and high-rises?
I grew up in Los Angeles.






"This is the Daddy who lived in the city who was 23 years old"













"This is the Mother who dose all the worke she is 22 and lived's in the city"





"This is the sister who lived in the city who was 12 yea's old"








"This is the Boy who lived in the City he is 10 year's old"










"This is the hole family who lived in the city
Daddy   Mother    Boy    Sister

Everything and Nothing, A Poem for Boston...and Waco

We grapple to find reasons

When there are none to be found

Since hatefulness and evil

Never stem from somewhere sound

We want to make wrong right somehow

But can't undo the pain

Of spirits crushed by tragedy

Mere words seem so inane

We can offer loving kindness

To those who fight to live

It's everything.

It's nothing.

It's all we have to give.

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Our hearts (and prayers, for those who pray) go out to everyone impacted by the explosions at the Boston Marathon...and now Waco - the destruction is horrifying.

To find out about donating blood (you can do this in any city), or to donate money for relief efforts, go to this Red Cross Site. Thank you!

Spring in Chico, Sundays in My City

 

Hi, friends.

I hope you've been enjoying the weekend.

Welcome back to Chico, CA for another edition of Sundays in My City, hosted by the ever gracious Unknown Mami. To view a picture-perfect tour of bloggers' hometowns across the globe, go HERE.

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This monstrous truck is ready for the Monster Truck Rally.

I can't help but wonder how the driver gets into the driver's seat. Private jet? I'm also unsure what a Monster Truck Rally involves, beyond monstrous trucks. Have you been to one?

DuPont is dressed for the Spring. I don't think he's going to the Rally. I kinda hope not. He looks too pretty.

Alas, love is in the air. These two little love-birds guard a lawn in a residential neighborhood. I snuck up behind them and took their picture.

    Happy mid-April, Spring, Sunday, and new week!

On How I Once Used a Q-tip

Another excerpt from my novel, Woman on the Verge of Paradise, follows. This blurb brings you into the closet with me, after I've made good use of a q-tip.  Said closet borders my apartment and Noah's. Reminder: Noah is the ex-boyfriend-who-kissed-like-he--was-trying-to-budge-a-dead-possum-and-might-be-into-necrophilia-and-lived-nextdoor-so-what-can-possibly-go-wrong?

Enjoy.
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As if his failure to ever move out wasn’t enough, Noah quickly replaced me. While I hunched over my typewriter to work on a paper for Community Organizing one night, I heard a knock on his door. He answered. A female greeted him with, “God I had such an awful day!” Noah responded by inviting her in for some wine. I responded by  turning into a mad, masochistic, paranoid, insanely jealous ex with a plan.

With both hands, I scrunched up all the hairs in the vicinity of my left ear, then tucked them tightly behind that ear. Next, I pulled a q-tip from my bathroom cabinet, thrust it into my ear and twisted frenetically, until I was certain I’d cleared out all remnants of excess wax. Then I entered the closet that bordered our apartments. In perhaps the most undignified moment of my life, barely upstaging my slipper-slippage-into-ladder ensemble, I pressed my ear against the closet wall and held my breath to hear exactly what was going on.

Truth is, I detected nothing but free flowing high pitched sound bites mixed with an occasional deeper toned blurb. But I convinced myself otherwise. They were going at it, I was sure. After a few minutes of eavesdropping, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I came out of the closet, secured a box of Kleenex and plopped down next to my phone.

“Ka, Kathryn, it’s Robyn. Am I bothering you?” I blew my nose into a tissue. “I just, I need a friend. Is this an okay time?”

"Of course Robyn. Are you alright?”

“No, I’m a mess. You know how I told you Noah’s still next door?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“God, Kat, I was finally getting over him, but then I heard some stupid whiny bitch at his door saying —I pinched my nostrils in to best imitate her— ‘God, I had such an awful day!’ And he’d rather be with her than me? What the hell! Then he f*ckin’ invites her in for a f*ckin’ drink and they’re on his couch now in our spot and he’s f*cking her brains out!” I blew snot into a gob of tissue. “Sorry. Ugh. I can’t believe I did this but I went into my closet to listen to them. I don’t know what came over me, I couldn’t help it. What the hell was I thinking, Kat, dating my nextdoor neighbor that” —sniffle— “bastard?”

Reasons for Celibacy, #224-231

Lifted directly from men’s on-line personal ads, and embellished by my italicized snark, I now present reasons 224 through 231 for [not just me but] any straight, single woman to choose celibacy and a stash of re-chargeable batteries.  These ads never fail to perplex at least as much as they amuse. 

Happy weekend! 

Enjoy your day of rest on Sunday, A-Zers!

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REASON #224: Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful 

Not a problem, honey. I’ve seen your picture and I hate you because of your receding hair line.

REASON #225: is i too ugly to get with a cool women on here

Frankly, yes, you is. But don’t let that stop you from perusing craigslist, sweetie. I’m sure you’ll have better luck there.

REASON #226: I'll bet you a drink u msg me. $1,000,000 you don’t

You owe me $1,000,000, sir.

REASON #227: I beleive to have a good relationship there has to be trust and rommunication. I’m not so sure. At this point, I’d settle for some crust and rumination.

REASON #228: Looking for a socially fun person.

Really? ‘Cuz I prefer an asocial fun type or a social bore. Sorry, I guess we’re not a match.

REASON #229: Did you touch my drum set??? No but I wouldn’t mind fingering your trombone, babe.

REASON #230: Real eyes realize real lies! Initially, I found your wordplay rather clever. Now I’m just confused.  What exactly are you trying to say? You can detect real versus fake lies with your real versus fake eyeballs?  How does this serve you as a dating headline?

REASON #231: I'm eating a twix right now

Good for you. I’m fantasizing about devouring a big hunk right now. But I guess I’ll settle for a long banana.

Interview with Snooki, IWSG

                                                     
Hi, friends. I've driven across a stretch of CA today, so that's my excuse for a repulsive choice in interview guests. It's also my excuse for typos, weirdness beyond the usual quirkitude found here, and anything else I might need excused from here on out. Phew! Thanks.

I'm combining this post for the IWSG (a wonderful support group founded by none other than Alex J. Cavanaugh) with a Reality Award that Farawayeyes gave me last week. The honor involves my answering these questions: If you could change one thing, what would it be? If you could repeat one age, what would it be? What one thing really scares you? If you could be someone else for a day, who would it be?...Gulp. Did I mention I'm tired from driving several hundred miles today? It's now 11:59pm, and I'm detrmined to write and post this within the next 60 seconds, or before I fall asleep.
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Robyn: Ladies and gentlemen, I didn't think it was possible, but I've sunk to a new low, the lowest of lows. You guessed it, Snooki's here. An enraged audience compels Robyn to dodge paper airplanes, hand-grenades and a spray of bullets.   Snooki struts onto the stage, wearing dental floss - or perhaps it's a bikini; flip-flops, and big gaudy silver sunglasses. She takes a swig of a Corona, and waves at the two people remaining in the audience (Honey Boo Boo and her mother, June).

Robyn: Um, thanks? I mean, thanks, Snook. Thanks for coming. I'm sure you hear that a lot. Thanks for coming, er cum-ming, that is. Robyn smirks and elbows her playfully.

Snooki: Well I totally say it more than I hear it. But, yeah whatever.

Robyn: If I could change one thing, Snooki, it would be the fact that you earn $150K per episode, yet you lack a functioning braincell or an ethic. Meanwhile, lots of us IWSG members are intelligent and ethical, yet we struggle to achieve a modicum of success. It's not a fair world. I'd make the world fair if I could. But I didn't ask you here to tell you that. I invited you because I'm feeling insecure about being so dang slow. It takes me weeks or months to write a chapter, or even a paragraph sometimes. You're as slow as they get. Tell me, how do you handle being so slow?

Snooki: Like people say I'm slow all the times. But I went to collage an I writed two books already. So I ain't not slow like you b*tch!

Robyn: You have a point. You writed two books. And they say sh*t like "she farted and it stunk." So we're not talking about speed. We're talking quality, or lack thereof.

Snooki: Totally.

Robyn: Maybe I shouldn't worry so much about speed. But what really scares me is that the world is all about the stupid, unscrupulous buffoons like you.  And people like you keep breeding. If I could be someone else for a day, I'd be the doctor who delivered your baby, and I'd hand him over to someone who'd set a better example for the next generation. Say, where is your baby, anyway?

Snooki: My baby? Oh sh*t! I left him at home alone. She laughs and takes another swig of her beer.

Robyn: No worries, he's better off.  And if I could repeat one age, it'd be anytime prior to the past 26 years. Before you were born, that is. As a public service, Snooks, I've got a parting gift for you. Robyn turns towards the camera man and tells him to signal the truck drivers to bring 'em over. He nods. We've got 25 truckloads of condoms for you, hon, to ensure you never breed again. And there's a special education tutor back stage to teach you how to use them. Robyn hands her a cucumber. Snooki looks confused, licks it, and struts off stage.

Robyn looks at the camera: Thank you for tuning in today. If anything, I hope it gives you hope. We can only hope certain people will stop breeding. We can also only hope that quality will prevail -- that if we stick to what's good and right, and if we write what's good and right, rewards will be forthcoming. Have a good day and keep faith, everyone.