Dating Lesson # 2 - What not to say..AKA the MOM factor!!

Dating Lesson #2 for the boys – the mom factor!!

Listen my sweet little bundles of testosterone, here’s what you need to think about…unless you have serious mommy issues, you probably love your mother quite a bit. You remember that warm, loving figure that would feed you and make you bathe even when you didn’t want to? The one that usually smelled good and always let you put your head in her lap when the world was just getting to be a bit much? The one that periodically tuned you in, even when you were a foot taller than she was? Just because she knew someone needed to keep you in check, and who better than someone that loves you? Well here’s a bit of a newsflash for you. These women you date? They’re either someone’s mom, or they will potentially BE someone’s mom. They are someone’s beloved family member. How would you like to have someone speak to or treat your mom the way you are treating the ladies?

Imagine some guy coming to take your precious life-giver out on a date…IF he bothers to pick her up, he is 15 minutes late. He tells her to make sure to bring her purse because it’s looking like tonight might get pricy…He slaps her on the bottom as they go out and tells her “mmm mmmmm! Babe, you are looking FINE!” No compliment on how pretty she is, how lucky he feels to be with her, how fabulous her shoes are. Just objectifying her with the intent of getting in her underpants. Yep, your mom’s underpants! That guy wants in them!! How are you feeling right now? Are you a little uncomfortable with that idea?

Now my precious little manlings, I want you to imagine your mom telling you that the man she likes isn’t that serious. He just wants to “hang out”. He wants a “casual” thing. He seems to be looking for more of a “friends with benefits situation”…but she’s sticking it out because mommy has needs too. By the way friends, I have had more than one man say that to me when I said I was busy mommying and was not free to go out…nothing makes a man more deserving of a slap to his bits than that comment!! If I am in the early stages of dating you, my “needs” are none of your business. Let’s discuss your tax return and assess your needs, ok Creeper?!?!

I am digressing yet again…but I want you to think of someone treating your sister, your mom, your niece, your DAUGHTER , your GRANDDAUGHTER, your Grandmother, your KINDERGARTEN TEACHER in the way some of you are treating women. Is your behaviour acceptable?

Again, for your edification, I am about to list certain phrases (some personal experience, some gleaned from the internet, some from friend’s experiences!!) that I am pretty sure you never want said to your beloved female family members…remember these the next time you are lucky enough to have an amazing woman at your side!

- Hardwood floor or wall to wall carpet?
- Do you really need to eat that?
- Your friend is looking super hot tonight.
- Let’s make out. Right now. (this is generally said in places like…church, the grocery store, funerals, a butcher shop…all the traditionally romantic zones)
- I always wanted to kiss an older woman.
- I am just too busy for a serious relationship right now.
- Have you ever considered an open relationship?
- I hate my ex, she’s a bi*@h.
- I am too scared to be with you, I need time to think, etc etc. (please fellas, can you stop being full of doo doo and just spit out the truth? Which is that you don’t want to date US. We’ll live. Most single women I know date 2 to 3 times a week. More on that in another post!)
- I didn’t realize I needed to dress up. (track pants are NOT appropriate date attire my precious little manlings!)
- It’s not that I don’t trust you…it’s him I don’t trust.
- Trust me baby, it’s all good.
- What’s wrong? Have you got your period?

I could go on forever. Basically, if you would punch someone for saying it to your mom, DON'T SAY IT TO A WOMAN!!! Don’t worry my Hairy Ones, I promise to also do a post on stupid things women say. I could do 3 or 4 on the stupid crap I’ve said! I’ll give you a brief taste before logging off…

Dumb things Sherrin has said:

- Does this make me look fat?
- Do you hate that I’m short?
- Have you considered trimming your nose hair?
- You’re not wearing that, are you?
- It’s not that I don’t trust you…it’s her I don’t trust.

Live and learn kids. Live and learn!

An open letter to men - STOP USING THESE WORDS!!!

I'm back bitches! Awww, did you miss me? Do you need me to hold you to my heaving bosom? Have you recovered from the SNOW IN JUNE?!?! Ok, May 30th...but close enough to JUNE!!

Today's topic isn't really about dating. It's more a lesson for men...not boys, men. Men over 30. You all need to quit using certain words. You are no longer 5 years old and the terminology you are using for lady bits is really annoying the bejeezus out of me! I am not a woman that is annoyed by the C-bomb. Heck, I frequently drop a c-bomb and have even created a new swear called C-bomb face....but certain words offend me. Let's begin:

Breasts: ok. They're breasts. If you must, you may call them boobs. Gazongas. Hooters. jugs. Really, the only word that offends me is "titties". Seriously? Titties?!!? How about tits? Anything but titties. It's like something a 12 year old boy whispers to his friends when talking about what's in the neighbour girl's training bra. GROW UP. Stop using that word.
Also, now that I have issued this public warning, you should be advised that I will slap the next person that says this word in front of me right in the nuts!!

Vagina: It's so simple. There are a BAZILLION words for the hoo hoo. Women have adopted the va jay jay, I prefer cooter or hoo hoo. You can even use the C-bomb. Snatch? borderline offensive. Pussy or kitty? It works I suppose. I still don't think a hoo hoo looks anything like a feline, but whatever floats your boat. I think the only hoo hoo euphemism that really bothers me is "cunny". I don't know why, it just does! Let's all agree to call it Regina or perhaps THE PLEASURE GARDEN. Then you men could be smooth and classy and say things like "hey babe, could I wander leisurely through your pleasure garden tonight?". Now how is THAT not the greatest way to ask for sex?!?! It's guaranteed action!!

It is late and I am tired and that is all you get tonight. Let me know what euphemisms for your ladybits bother you!!

I am done dating

No for real, I am taking a break. I realized that I am now at the point where I can barely hide my disdain for the man sitting across from me. Is it due to too many dates? Too many douchebags? An over-inflated sense of awesome? Probably all of the above.

This means future posts will be more tales of past bad dates or my daily facebook rants. In that vein, here is today's facebook status update:

Dear K-Car Driver,
Thanks so much for blindly merging into the lane next to me and flinging your old coffee out your window and onto my windshield. Your look of surprise as we passed each other was truly touching. I will be looking for you this week because the urge to pull you out of your car by your 4th trembling chin and slap you in your long-since-disappeared testes is irresistible.
Love S

Oh, by the way, I recognize the fact that I have quit dating about 3 times in the past year.... shhhh, don't judge. A woman has the right to change her mind!

Banff - syphillis capital of Canada. Day 1

ok, it's the STD capital...and ok, it's not a dating story. It's just the story of 5 women, ranging in age from 24 to darned-near 40 on a post-Christmas odyssey of self discovery and penicillin. (PLEASE NOTE: To my knowledge none of the women involved in this trip actually needed a prescription of any sort. PLEASE ALSO NOTE: I am never going on a trip with them again!!)

Where to begin? It seemed like such a good idea. Let's all load up in a car and jam into a double room for a few days after Christmas. Let's go for fondue at the Grizzly House. Let's..well let's see how many randoms can be picked up in a 60 hr period.

First, I was only drunk once the entire trip. In the car. 45 minutes after we left E-town. How did I manage this feat, being the heavy hitter I am when it comes to drinking? Surely 4 oz of alcohol could not be contained within the GIANT JUICE JUG of dirty martinis with blue cheese stuffed olives? (listen up kids, when you reach my age, you do NOT swill no name beer or cheap wine as road pops..it's putrid smelling dirty martinis ALL the way!). Where was I? oh yeah, texting A1 (the driver) from the back seat 30 minutes after we'd left to ask if we were there yet. Apparently the 4.5 hr trip hadn't magically transpired in the 30 minutes I'd spent guzzling martinis. Who knew?

I was also put in charge of the road tunes, so the others were held hostage during the trip and forced to listen to my somewhat eclectic musical choices: The Glee soundtrack, George Michael, Beyonce, Lady Gaga, JOURNEY, Hanson (SQUEEEEE!!!), NKOTB, Prince, Hedley, Anjulie, Biz Markie, Prince, Pete Townshend, Ty Taylor...just to name the first ones that come to mind!!! As the Bestie quietly prayed for a quick death to release her from my music, it seemed Ms SS was happy just to have room for her skinny little behind on the rather roomy back seat of the Toyota Solara (nice ride A1!!!)....but I digress, back to my story!

After one potty break at a McRectalRockets and one stop at Cockring, AB to pick up some healthy additions to our mini bar (hello Jager!) we were in Banff. Home of the boy of your dreams...and his STD! We decide we are hungry chicks and want to head to the Keg after checking in...only problem? A redneck in a truck was riding our tourist ass and didn't like that we didn't know where we were going. As he pulled by, we all yelled and flipped him the bird...and I yelled "EFF YOU FLOYD!". I don't know if it was being called Floyd or 5 women giving him the finger, but Floyd immediately pulled his rusting, salt-stained, 1982 GMC pickup right in front of us...and came to a halt...and then started backing up towards us!!!!! A1, as a well-trained stunt driver, immediately pulled around him and kept driving and as we all realized we'd avoided a sound verbal thrashing from a toothless skiier/serial killer in a plaid lumberjack shirt, we started to wonder what Floyd actually had in mind. Was he going to call us names? Was he going to (gasp!) physically show us he was angry? Was he going to offer to take us to dinner? Had Floyd fallen madly in love with us and did he want to make the 5 of us into his very own episode of "Big Love"? Ok, Floyd was likely going to unleash a verbal flurry and use all 23 words in his vocabulary to do so. In hindsight A1, you should have let him pull us over. He'd still be curled in a fetal position, crying in his mommy's basement.

So, we have dinner. We turned the creep dial to medium and did a half-assed effort of creeping on the very average wait staff at The Keg. Truthfully, it wasn't my best work. I was coming off a martini high and needed a nap.

We headed back to the hotel (and I still have not napped!) and then decided to head to some Irish-style pub to watch the hockey game, ogle the locals and listen to a live band. Turns out the ogleing choices were fairly limited and the band SUCKED GIANT GOATBALLS. Sweet mother of pearl, I was ready to poke my ear drums out, but then realized it was cruel to punish me for their shortcomings! After briefly chatting with some Englishman (and let me mention that in no way, shape or form does an English accent do justice to the word "port-a-potty" the way a Scots accent does) and letting the Bestie do her best work at charming and alienating in equal parts by saying "You can't be British, your teeth aren't all effed up!!" it was time to go? Only problem? The girls wanted to "keep partying". Since we hadn't even STARTED partying, I was a little lost with the terminology, but we did mosey one block away toward some club housed in a basement....and the median age seemed to be 19.5. Since I happen to be the proud (and far too youthful-looking!!) parent of an 18 yr old son, this is problematic for me! I went home, with A2 and the Bestie in tow.

Once back at the hotel, we changed into jammies and sent out for pizza and poutine. If it wasn't so long ago, I'd give you all the name of the best poutine place in Banff, but I forget. Ask the guy at the front desk, how many places can deliver poutine at 1 a.m.?!?!? What am I your friggin tour guide?!?! Wait, I digress....

SO, there we are laying in bed, eating and watching tv. The only thing on tv happened to be a 2 hr long infomercial for the greatest love songs of the 70's. I am not ashamed to say that I would totally tap 1970's Mac Davis, James Taylor, Tony Orlando and even John Denver. Yep, I would totally violate the 1970's versions of those men....I could probably even be persuaded to hump the leg (and artificial hip) of the men on that list that are still alive! I also made a proclamation that I would no longer sleep with men of color (there's a story there - if I can ever figure out a less than x-rated way to tell it, I will!!)...and there was much bonding to be had.

Jump ahead to 4:30 in the morning when my phone rings. It's a whispery-talking A1 saying "let me in, I forgot my key!". I let her drunk hiney in and note that she is limping and covered in snow. I ask her where SS is...SS has been left behind (and I thought the first rule of warfare and dating was that you never leave a man behind?!?!?!). After tracking her down and getting her back into the hotel room, the events of the night were recounted for our benefit. In point form, for your enjoyment, here are the events:

- the girls found boys
- the girls went back to the hotel room with these boys
- the hotel room these boys were at was in the midst of a party
the police came
- immediately post-coitus, A1 hears the cops in the hall and rather than exit out the hallway, she takes her 5'1 self to the 5' high balcony and THROWS herself over the top (badly jarring her knee in the process, experiencing approximately a 9 ft drop to the ground!
- after landing she proceeds to run/limp down the street toward OUR hotel
- A1's partner du noir yells behind her "WAIT, GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER!! I DON'T WANT IT TO BE LIKE THIS!!!!"
- SS has passed out in the shower
- SS's awakens and exits the bathroom where A1's p.d.n. says "Does your friend have a warrant? She heard the police and jumped off the balcony!!!"
- SS cracks up and thinks how wise it was to have gathered as a group and programmed all our names and cell numbers AND The name of our hotel into our phones at the start of the night.
- SS forces her date to drive her the half block back to our hotel
- SS and A1 proceed to lay in their bed and giggle, keeping the rest of us awake.

Moral of the story? NO ONE can rock a walk of shame like A1. NO ONE. Her walk of shame remains unparallelled and shall go down in Walk of Shame History!

I haven't edited this, so pardon the spelling errors...and wait until you see part 2!

"Wandy Dodd" or "Just say NO to speech impediments"

ohhhh, this one is a doozy!

So this past spring I was in the grocery store (in gym clothes and ponytail and really STINKING up the place!) when I noticed the same man kept popping up wherever I was. He was an attractive man. Well dressed, although he did have frosted tips and was definitely FAR under 5'10 - my usual man criteria!

Finally in the deli he approached me and asked me about a product (not being a fan of the processed meats, I was not much help!)..then as I grabbed milk and was heading to leave, he came up and told me he thought I was "attwactive" and would love to take me for a drink. Since I am a sucker for pretty much any man who flatters me, I gave him my number.

Thus begins the story the man I call "wandy dodd". Now Wandy seemed incapable of saying the "r" sound. At first I thought he was something we in Canada call a "newfie" or a native of Newfoundland, because they tend to have strong accents. It took me 2 weeks to figure out that it was indeed a speech impediment.

Wandy was also a former military man. He used to drive a tank. I think he bumped his head. Repeatedly.

Our first lunch date lasted for 2.5 hrs, as I acted as his therapist and listened to the stories of his ex. And her children. And the ex. More on the ex. What? We're still talking about the ex? Ok, more on the ex. Excellent! At the end of it, he hugged me and told me he couldn't wait to see me again. What can I say? I'm a great psychotherapist. I said yes because I didn't want to assume the worst - that I was out with the "rebounder". Oh yes, the dreaded rebounder, still in love/obsessed with the elusive ex.

Second date: We go for drinks at a pub of his choice. This pub is in what I like to think of as THE MOTHERTRUCKING GHETTO!! While walking in past 2 gentlemen, I was eye-humped to the point that their optical spooge could be felt dripping down my leg. I walked in and realized Wandy Dodd was late. Feeling the eyes of 20 large men on me, I slowly backed out of the bar and immediately called the Bestie...mostly so if I disappeared, she'd know where I'd last been seen! Wandy Dodd finally arrived and over our 2nd drink I pointed out that I couldn't give 2 shits over his ex...he did his best not to mention her for 10 whole minutes kids, but it was a write-off. After excusing myself and heading home, I mused to myself on how even in the grocery store, I attract the nutbars!

Flashforward to the next day: The phone rings. Wandy Dodd "weally weally wikes me and would hate to miss out on something with an awesome wady wike me". After being kind and gently explaining that perhaps he had to do some work on being single for a bit, I finally ended up yelling at the poor guy. It wasn't good. I am not a nice person when I start yelling, which is why I RARELY do it (road rage doesn't count, right?). Wandy Dodd yelled back. Which was sort of like being yelled at by Elmer Fudd. I was vewy, vewy quiet before hanging up. End of story. Seems simple right? RIGHT!

Nope...

2 months later I hear from Wandy again. He is calling to tell me I was right (no kidding!)and that he is now over "her". After once again listening to him spew vitriol about the ex, I asked what the point of his call was. He asked if I was seeing anyone. I said no. He asked if I'd see him. I said no. He asked if we could be "fwiends". I said...I guess so. ANNNDD this is how we ended up on a night out with the gf's (for A1's auntie's birthday!) with Wandy Dodd in tow. You see, the girls (especially the Bestie) couldn't believe he was as bad as I said. So Bestie cajoled me into inviting Wandy out with us.

We go to a North End pub (slightly ghetto, but we all know I loves me some ghetto!) and this is his 'hood! I called him to invite him and he was tickled. TICKLED! He arrives. Fairly well dressed, but the beers are catching up to the belly, IF you know what I mean... I hid, and he called...and I answered..and he came to sit with us. Now keep in mind that A-squared had each invited their respective ex-bf's. Why? Well everyone gets along and it's this whole painful, interconnected situation that really needs to end..but I digress!

Wandy Dodd took much offense to the chair dance/leg hump that A2's ex greeted me with. He then proceeded to tell one of my guy-friends that he "is not normalwy an agwessive kind of guy but these girwls don't want these guys here. How come these guys awen't picking that up?". The irony? Wandy Dodd seemed to think he and I were on a date and had rubbed his face on my shoulder, put his feet in my lap repeatedly (until I threatened to jam a shoe up his posterior if he put his dirty feet on my pretty dress one more time), and told aforementioned guy-friend that he was so excited to be here on a date with "Shewwy". Oh, he also told guy-friend that "you and I are the onwy two here who haven't slwept with these girwls". UHHH WRONG wandy, that guy-friend had tapped this. He'd tapped it repeatedly. He'd tapped it six ways from Sunday!!!! He also told guy-friend that I was a great singer and that I had a powerful voice...probably because of all that "pweshuh" on my chest. "If you know what I mean...". eurgh!

aside: Oh yeah, he didn't know my name. did I mention that? Somehow in the 2 months we hadn't spoken, I'd gone from SHERRIN to SHEWWY. Also, I hate being called Sherry. It's a number one dealbreaker!

Back to it: Wandy was in the process of giving my friend's aunt (a total stranger to him) a lap dance...for her birthday...because after the bikini-clad beer girl had given her one, he felt quite sure that she required his sweaty-self grinding up on her! Then he was back to threatening the boys. Finally, after telling Wandy in no uncertain terms to either be nice to my friends, ALL of my friends and to sit down and shut the hell up or leave, I was ready to go home. As I left the pub, Wandy proceeded to hunker down with A2 - a very understanding and sympathetic girl. Wandy did not leave the pub that night until the rest of my friends left. Imagine being stuck with a strange, angry, DRUNK, speech-impedimented, sweaty, close-talking, touchy-feely person for an entire evening because one person (ahem, Bestie) insisted they be invited out so they could witness the carnage for themselves!

Moral of the story? Trust your instincts! Just say no to speech impediments! and NEVER date a man named "Wandy Dodd"

By the way, Bestie left 45 minutes after Wandy got there because she had to work the next day. She's a diabolical genius.

Dating Tip #9: Chicks do NOT dig Ed Hardy Douchebags "dude-bro"

This is an ode to the single dad (and listen buddy, I invented the "kid as wingman" game, so give it up you amateur!) that sent his adorable little ragamuffin over to me at West Edmonton Mall yesterday...

There I was briskly walking through the mall looking for a Bell kiosk when I saw him...an ode to greased hair, sequins and gold dragons in expensive yet somehow ill-fitting jeans - he was at least 50 and seemed to see nothing wrong with being the world's oldest Ed Hardy douchebag (with the exception of the Audigier himself!!). He smiled and I noted that he had groomed eyebrows and that he was MISSING AT LEAST 5 TEEFS!..I immediately looked at my feet lest he think my eye contact was a show of interest, but I was too late. He'd locked his radar on me. I saw him lean down and whisper to his son, probably something along the line of "now you lissen to me Cletus-bro, dat der wo-man looked at yer paw and if yer tired of washing yer unnerpants in the creek and eating KFC for every meal, you'd better seal this deal fer us!". So little Cletus-bro came up and said "Hi! My daddy says you're pretty". Awww, so cute. Just a wee little dude-bro in the making.

Maintaining my brisk pace, I smiled at Cletus-bro, said thanks and kept walking...which is when I heard (and I wish I was joking!) the Geriatric Dude-Bro say "you're probably a dyke anyway". I had to laugh...and I did laugh...but now I'm wishing I'd at least made fun of his Audigier loving ass.

Also, SWEET BELT BUCKLE BRO!

communicator conversations OR the legend of Snowpants

So A1 and I work for the same company, which has a handy little tool called "communicator"...today we ended up in a discussion on Snowpants. Not the garment, the person!

ME: did I ever tell you about my coffee date with Snowpants from the gym?
A1: no lol
tell tell tell
ME: ok, the guy I call snowpants he always wears really baggy sweats at the gym. I don't think much of it, he works hard and has pretty decent arms and chest...now I know why he wears the baggy sweats though! He asked me for coffee. i go for coffee....he's wearing jeans and it honest to god looks like he's tucked a rolled up towel around his waist...and his pants - it looked like he was wearing snow pants but they weren't...they were his incredibly roly poly and fat and rotund lower body and legs filling his jeans out in a puffy way. EUGH
I couldn't quit looking at it, no matter how hard I tried not to!! It was like a trainwreck!
A1: omg omg omg! lol!!
So he did not have a big slong it was like rolls of fat, like what the nutty professor would wear in one of is his movies kinda thing?
ME: YEAH! And he probably thought I was looking at his junk but seriously, there was a roll obscuring where the junk should have been!!!
A1: omg why
how does that even happen?!? So what does his upper body look like...like he shoved his fat from his arms and tummy down his pants?
Maybe that is all extra skin from losing a shit load of weight
ME: I'm sure it is
ME: IT WAS SO WEIRD A1!!
he was totally misshapen
like someone took a nice top and stuck it on a fat guy bottom
like those paper doll books where you could mix and match the heads, torsos and legs
A1: omg
i loved those
ME: yeah, but would you DATE one? I don't think so!
A1: noppers
lol
ME: nope! Plus he was a slooowwwwwww talkkkerrrrr and i like me a nerd, but when he told me he went to Vulcan and bought some souvenirs and I had to feign excitement and awe it was so not cool!
He also wondered out loud about star trek costumes and whether or not he could start a cottage industry by making them. when i told him i was pretty sure you could buy them readily off the internet, he looked at me like I'd just spit gold and diamonds out of my mouth. He was THRILLED...and slightly disbelieving
A1: Wow
You know how to pick em - blog about it....lol
ME: yep, i fo sho do!!

this is me blogging about it...the rest of the conversation was too graphic!!