I’m taking a break from the Playa play by play (fun to read and to say) to share some of the random thoughts I’ve had as I reflect beach side each day.

1. I have no hips. It doesn’t matter how skeletal I become, I will never have the hourglass shape that a recent book I read says instinctively attracts men because your hips tell their subconscious, “I want to and am built to have your babies.” This book is all about the hormonal and chemical make up of our brains and how it affects our behavior… it got quite dry after the 3rd page of random hormonal terminology. If this is all true though, doesn’t that mean there could be a shady scientist creating a brain chemical altering pill in his bathtub-turned-science-lab that causes men to be attracted to women with three arms or other unique features? I wonder how much these types of drugs would go for on the black market. You could drop one into the object of your affection’s beer or coffee. Its like modern-day witchcraft… I may not be screwed after all.

2. My niece is crazy smart. I mean everything she says is cute just because it comes from her, but get a load of this progression:

  • 1 year old: My sister says, “what is the magic word?” when Nora asks for a snack. Instead of replying with the expected “please”, which at the time was one of 4 words she knew, she responded with “Meeska…Mooseka…Mickey Mouse!”
  • 2 years old: Upon opening her McDonald’s happy meal, only to discover that it has healthy apple slices instead of french fries, she swipes the entire meal off her high chair to the ground declaring, “This is not a happy meal!! This is a sad sad meal!”
  • 3 years old: Nora once heard my brother and I reminisce about an old Seinfeld episode and kept this one in her pocket until months later. After listening to my sister and David comment on the meal they had just had, Nora piped up from the back seat of the mini-van to say “and these pretzels are makin me thirsty!!”
  • 4 years old: When my mother was recently putting Nora to bed, she looked up at the sky and mentioned in a matter-of-fact way, “Huh, that cloud looks just like Barack Obama.”

I guess what I am trying to say here, in case any of you were still skeptical, the baby in the closet incident had no long-term effects on the brilliance of my niece.

3. A twitter friend of mine sent me a note yesterday asking why it is that I go on so many bad dates. He wondered whether the quality of men in Texas was just poor or if I had an issue with the gender in general. The answer to both is no. It took some serious contemplation to arrive at what I think may be the answer. The fact that the older we get, the quality of the water in the dating pool goes down is partially true. I mean, I don’t date younger, so a simple mathematical equation confirms that there will be less viable options available to me as time goes on.

That said, I am going to be mature and introspective enough to admit that I am part of the problem here. I’m what they call a modern woman, an independent, aggressive… ok, controlling, person in most facets of my life. Which is all the more reason why, in my dating and romantic life, I have chosen to remain somewhat old-fashioned and reserved. I guess you could say I am lacking the cougar instinct. I am not a hunter, as matchmaking queen Patti Stanger calls it. Relationships are just one area where I prefer to be pursued and taken care of. Laziness? Maybe. But it just feels nice.

And therein lies the problem. It seems I only get pursued by irritatingly obnoxious men with unwarranted confidence and totally wacked out behavior. Am I unknowingly sending out some sort of douschebag mating call? Do I have to learn how to hunt to snag a date that suits my palate? I am not sure what the solution is here… I’m open to suggestions.

4. My friend Jason at RewashedNews read the stars today. I found it funny but dismissed his predictions until I found myself sans toilet paper this afternoon (I’m an Aries). It’s more likely that I finished the roll during a drunken/sleepwalking bio break last night than it actually being stolen, but it’s eerie that his reading was pretty spot on. I’ll now be relying on him for various life altering decisions like which highway to take and where to find the best sea scallops.

Meanwhile, back at the temporary casa, Mom and I are preparing for her last night in Playa. Last night we passed the test and deemed ourselves officially local. They stopped heckling us on the street, either because they recognize us or we are now bronze enough to look like we’ve been around the block. Either way, we felt a sense of accomplishment.

Off to the Dirty Martini for a cucumber vodka dinner. Now that is not a sad sad meal.