Please explain to me why I’ve become such a bobblehead lately? I mean, REALLY, what the heck is up with me?! Last time I checked, I was not boy crazy. I mean, I don’t scream at hot boys in bands. I’ve never tried to get with a football player (which, trust me, for a Texas girl, is kinda like a sacrilege).
I am comfortable around guys. And, really and truly, most of the time I would rather be in a group of guys than a group of girls. Going back just bit in my family tree, I’ve got my brother, my dad, grandfather, ten uncles, and eight male first-cousins. My major female influence—mommy dearest—is girlie, but plays most sports better than any of the men I know her age. Nailor is mostly male…as is the rest of the sheet metal/HVAC industry. I can’t help it, I’m used to being “one of the guys.”
I’m just not good with the liking of said boys. Usually, it goes one of two ways. The first is easier for me. It’s the silly crushy-ness that happened with BFKP. Crushes are all about attraction. It’s not like you’re looking at this person thinking, “oh, great, here’s awesome relationship potential.” It’s more like, “Man, there are waaaaay too many things I want to do to that man that are sooo not acceptable for a PG-13 (A14, for us Canucks) setting.”
The other side of that…the side that makes me really, super-duper nervous…is the sudden realization that one of the guys you’ve been hanging with sudden seems like someone you need to have in your life on a deeper level. Someone, for lack of a less-lame way to say it, you start to think you’d like to wake up with every morning.
Why this had to happen to me, now of all times…when I’m already planning on completely regrouping my life, is beyond me. I mean…WTF, really? Do I really need something else? And, even more, do I really need something else that occupies my mind so completely that I kinda forget all the other shit I’ve been trying to get done?
Of course, whatever I might want, there’s more than just me in charge of this decision. And that’s probably what makes all of this so forward in my mind. My OCD has kicked up, and now it’s nothing but desperately fixated on the object of my affections. I’m not really in control…so I obsess about it, as an attempt to control it.
Damn it. Blah…lalalalala…Right, moving on.
So, in addition to the above, it seems I have to deal with retarded drivers. The 401 is notoriously an awful road to drive. Wikipedia says, “The 401 is one of the world's busiest highways.” They do not lie. I’ve had people from L.A. tell me that it’s worse than the 101. Anyone who’s driven this stretch of parking lot in the city of angels knows what a big deal that is. A big issue, I feel, is that people really just don’t know how to drive.
No, I’m serious.
Take this morning, for instance. I’m coasting along at a spry 10 to 15 km/h (about 6 to 9 mph, for the rest of you). All four lanes I need to cross are packed and moving likewise. I have my blinker on, plus I’m hanging half out the window so people can see me. In the end, I have to weasel my way in EVERY SINGLE TIME. Seriously? Wtf, people? One guy even honked at me. I turned around and was like, “Dude, we’re stopped, what does it matter? Where you going that one car length matters?! Especially since I’m getting on the Express anyway, so you’ll only have to look at my ass for another 30 seconds.”
Damn it, people. It’s enough to make a girl whish for a gun rack.
;) But I digress.
Quote of the Moment: “If you would just take the time to grow-up, and forget your little hang-ups, you’d see how perfect he’d be fore you.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: RENT, Out Tonight
TV/Movie Quote: Sex in the City(The TV Show): “You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin'.”