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So I was investigating a piece of serious journalism about the giant 8 foot Lego Man that washed up on a Dutch beach, when I came across this site: www.toybender.com. It seems to be some sort of media forum for toy fanatics. The tagline? “Poop Your Pants Awesome” I’m struggling with how this is supposed to make me feel.

Sitting at desk staring at penguin bobblehead while some all out disco track supplies a soundtrack to my life. I swear the head is moving to the music even though I havent touched it in a week. Is he nodding at me?
I suppose I should probably leave.

New strategy I learned today:

Consistently be so vague in your communications and requests that you can always cover your ass by looking back and insisting your message meant whatever is convenient for you at the present time. This type of communication is really a difficult skill to master. If you attempt to change a meaning that is pretty much blatant, you will just come out looking like an ass who THINKS he is fooling everybody but really we are all rolling our eyes in disbelief and calling you a fuckwit behind your back (obviously I know no one who does this). You must plan ahead and plant communication loopholes for yourself. I’ll let you know how my skills develop and whether I am successful in this deliberate ambiguity approach…

#1 rule in HP’s bible.
“If you chase something, it will run away”
So true, yet so completely and utterly ignored by too many people today.

HP and I have been practicing our unavailability to make ourselves more irresistible and…hot dog! it works!… to some extent. It may temporarily make a guy wonder where you have gone, and even drive him to reach out to you, but ultimately a prick is a prick, and if they didn’t want you yesterday, they most likely don’t want you today. And we all know too damn well, if they do decide they like you, you will inevitably not be interested anymore.

HP shut off communicado to a gentleman we will call The Arse. She has been chasing him for months but he continues to stay just barely out of reach. Her absence drove him to call her multiple times over the weekend, asking her to join him in various activities. Once she finally called back and told him she would join him and some pals for dinner, he predictably blew her off. How? When she sent a message asking what time dinner would be, he texted her “No dice babe. Will call you in a few.” WTF??? No Dice?? A prick is a prick.

To this I say to follow my brother-in-law’s advice and ask yourself “What would Rambo Say?”
The answer? “Fuck em”

All my own communication halting activity did was force uncomfortable messages from a man I labeled as gay quite some time ago that I am in no way attracted to anymore. He continues to force odd attempts at flirtation in an obvious intent to employ me as his beard.

So where is the balance I ask? How do we show we are interested yet not come on like a child eating peacock? How do you avoid playing hard to get turning into hard to get rid of?

BTW, the weekend was a success. Baby in the closet? Totally approved in the parent rulebook. Had a fantastic time with my sister. We met a potential suitor for me that she is already planning the wedding for, but surely I will give him the peacock treatment. I’ll wait for things to unfold before I share the deets.

Is it wrong to set up a pack-n-play in a closet?

So HP is now on page 136 of the “Why Men Love Bitches” Bible. I havent gotten many specific words of wisdom yet but I am sure they will trickle in. Right now she has gotten distracted by heliosocial.com who is providing us the rules of online social etiquette.

HP Says:

–“DATING RULE #18
–Wait for a couple LOL’s before asking him/her out in IM.
–Scientists have proven that 5 LOL’s and a couple :-)’s
–indicate the time is ripe for dating related activities.”

–SCIENTISTS HAVE PROVEN!?!?! 5 LOLs??? and a
–couple :-)s?? how many :)s does that equate to?
–what about LMAOs?
–ROFL. ”

Interesting, if these rules do, in fact, apply, then I have once again strayed from the norm with eLove. Why can’t I ever be part of the right statistic?

I am at home anxiously awaiting the arrival of my sister, her husband and my 19 month old beautiful niece. While she is my very best friend, I almost feel nervous. I moved here a year ago and absolutely love the city I am in, but will she approve? It will be interesting to see the dynamic with the four of us squeezed in my 700 square foot 1 bedroom apt. Oh, I have a 100lb Weimaraner too.

I bought some plastic number magenets for the fridge and some bathtub toys. Hopefully that breaks the ice with my brother in law. Wonder if my niece likes beer… And I wonder if she will mind Cdub making drunken donkey noises in the parking lot at 5am…

Its funny. I put off joining the blogosphere for the most obvious reason of “how the hell will I ever have enough content to post on a regular basis…”

Its been less then 12 hours since I jumped off this ledge and I find myself taking mental note of everything that happens around me as critical blog substance (BS). Is it just the bottle of wine I drank tonight or is my life that interesting? Shit yes. To both. It wasnt long ago that HP and I found ourselves at HQ (the bar across the street) hungover….er… still quite pissed on a Saturday morning talking complete nonsense about how we wished we had cameras in our eyeballs to document the ludicrisness and hilarity that is us. Until that eye camera thing gets figured out, mobile blogging is a close second.

So my one drink with Alec turned out to be a long deep conversation wrought with undertones understood by both parties. I wont bore anyone with the details because I’m the only one who really cares, but lets just say points were clearly made through innuendo from both parties. We discussed that life would be much better for everyone if people could just show some sac and come out and say to each other “the shagging was nice, but you just aren’t my bag.” When guys give us lame excuses as to why we aren’t dateable, even the most intelligent people (me) will know in their gut that they just aren’t into us, but choose to fool ourselves on the surface and buy into the belief that there isn’t a guy out there who could resist us if the circumstances were just a little different. I feel relief, closure, and (TA DA!) not the least bit upset. I can now move on and hopefully continue the amazing honest friendship we recaptured over several flights of wine.

Meanwhile, as I had a 3 hour masked heart to heart with the once squirreliest of men, HP was at the bookstore adding to her rapidly growing repertoire of self help books. The latest? “Why Men Love Bitches”(insert eye roll here). She proceeded to call me after pages 3 and 9 to read the BS. This is some really good shit. I’ll post more specific advice from our new Bible tomorrow, but ladies, I warn you, there is a new voice of unreason…and I don’t even know who the author is yet.

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