“Fuck the juice cleanse!”
“Fuck the juice cleanse?”
“Yes! Fuck it!” she said, and she threateningly waved her champagne glass at me.
I looked over at Caitlyn and Marlie. “Fuck the juice cleanse?”
“Fuck it,” said Marlie, nodding.
“Yep. Fuck the juice cleanse,” Caitlyn agreed.
“Hmm,” I said, mulling this over. “Fuck the juice cleanse…”
Those of a certain age, you will remember in 1988 when Van Halen released the second album with Sammy Hagar as the lead singer: ‘OU812’. Now, despite what you may have thought of the album itself (I know some of you have never gotten over the loss of David Lee Roth) what was undoubtedly cool was the title. I remember thinking, “WOW. It’s letters and numbers but YOU CAN SAY IT AS A SENTENCE! WOWWOWWOW!!!!” Not a lot of bands had done that before, and this sort of short-speak was new and unique.
Now of course, it is commonplace. ‘U’ has replaced the incredibly difficult and laborious spelling of ‘you’ and thank goodness someone came up with ‘2’ as opposed to ‘to!’ I don’t know about you, but typing out that one other character to actually write the word was really bringing me down. Continue reading Is It Just Me?
“What’s your idea of a great first date?”
“Geesh, I don’t know.”
“Tracey. Come on,” she replied.
I sighed to myself.
Her next IM flashed up in my inbox. “Okay, just use this template: On a first date, I enjoy discussing _____ over _____ at _____.”
“I’m busy,” I replied.
“TRACEY. COME ON.”
“DO NOT ALL-CAPS ME.”
“YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY.”
“No, YOU are driving ME crazy.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Omg. Please don’t.”
No response. She was already on her way.
No doubt about it. Lux was on a mission.
I was already sweating. I swiped the back of my hand across my brow and then took a sip of Bud Light in the hopes it would cool me down.
It did not.
“A lie is a lie is a lie,” insisted Leanne, as she tucked a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Okay, I get what you’re saying,” I said. “But this is the thing. As one of the readers commented – if you meet someone out and about, you’re not going to introduce yourself and be all, ‘Hi my name is Tracey and I’m 43.'” I took a sip of Corona and then continued. “No, you’re just going to get to know them and then age comes up later. But online, you’re required to put how old you are and that automatically categorizes you, before someone even gives you a chance. And in my case, dismisses you.”
“But why would you want to even date someone your age who’s cut-off is thirty-six?” she asked.
“Hmm, that’s a good point,” I said and looked around the table. “What do you guys think?”
“Ew!” I exclaimed, as I burst through the conference room door.
“What?” Archie was trying to enjoy a peaceful Bento Box lunch, away from the usual office chaos.
But I was having none of that.
“My post for tomorrow sucks!” I stared down at him, hands on hips. “It SUCKS!”
Continue reading Age Aint Nothin’ But a Number…? And Another Poll.
“We want adventure.”
“What?” I put the phone on the kitchen counter and clicked it to speaker. “Picturing me strutting around in my jeggings wasn’t enough of an adventure for you?”
She laughed. “No, that was fun. We love hearing about your progress and we’re all cheering you on but really, it’s time to start dating again. Just like you said. That’s what we all want to read about.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“So you see, it will look like a sphere, just a plain sphere, and then you press a button and POP! Out comes a Bath Pouf Sponge. Or you’ll have a cube, and you’ll think it’s just a cube and then POP! Out comes a Bath Pouf Sponge!”
“Wow,” I said and blinked rapidly. “That is…that’s really innovative.”
“I know,” he said and leaned back in his chair. “We’re currently building our inventory. This thing is going to be huge.” He took a sip of his scotch. “So what industry are you in?” Continue reading Speed Dating. Part One.
“This was a bad idea,” I said to Thalia as our cab rushed downtown. Well, ‘rushed’ maybe is an overstatement. It was Saturday night in Manhattan, so ‘steadily crawled’ might be a more accurate description.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, as she pulled out her lip-gloss to reapply.
“It just was, ” I said and slumped back in my seat.
Tara, our former Summer intern from NYU, who was now a full-time employee at our company, had been sitting on the exercise ball at my desk, when I’d started looking into Speed Dating events. Speed Dating had been the winner of the Reader Poll a few days prior, so I knew I had to get on scheduling it before too much time passed. Otherwise when I wrote about it, people would be like, “Poll?? What poll? What in the Horatio is she talking about??”
Not Quite A Cougar 