Oh my sweet baby Moses lying in a basket made of reeds! (I wanted to say sweet baby Jesus, but I am trying to stop saying that...something about not taking the Lord's name in vain....) It has certainly been a long time since I have written a blog. But lately people have really been stroking my ego and saying things like "You're a good writer" and "Yours was one of the only blogs I followed" and "You're so funny". And now I'm stroking my own ego by shamelessly writing those complements in my blog so that all of you can read them. Assuming you people will still read this thing.
Let me explain my extended absence:
1. I have not been pursuing my doula-liciousness for a while. This is not because I don't love the work, but more because I don't like being on call. That's not to say I wouldn't take another client, I'm just not pursuing it whole-heartedly. So it's not that I'm not doulaing it anymore. It's just that I'm really happy doulaing other things that don't include being a doula all the time.
2. I haven't seen the world in a particularly funny light for the last few months. I have been seeing it as more of a dimly-lit room rather than as a room full of funny. So I haven't really been able to write about funny things that happen because, well, they just haven't seemed that funny.
BUT......
I'm back! And I'm not going to pretend this blog is about doulaing anymore. Let's face it, it never was in the first place. And the best news is: The world is funny again. Which is really great for me, and now for you. Life is as it should be.
Speaking of things that are funny, let me regale you with a story (yes, I had to look that word up to make sure I was using it correctly). It involves Christmas parties, tacky sweaters, mistletoe headbands, and extreme bowling.
Once upon a time a friend had a Christmas party that was undefined attire-wise, so my other lovely friend (who shall remain unnamed) and I decided to wear tacky Christmas sweaters. Well, maybe I should say Christmas outfits instead of sweaters. See attached picture (I guess she's not remaining unnamed). The party ended up being kind of fancy and we felt we didn't really fit in so we decided to go make our own fun. Those outfits (including my mistletoe headband) couldn't be wasted!
Recently we've really enjoyed playing shuffleboard. So we decided to hit up a local bar that boasts an excellent shuffleboard table. Bumpers and all. Kind of like bowling as a small child (which we'll get to a little later). [Side note: I apparently like to use a lot of parentheses. Which makes me a little self-conscious. But not enough to where I plan to stop using them]. I digress...So we go to this bar. And we get a couple drinks. And we play shuffleboard. Well, I played one game of shuffleboard. Because an 80-year-old man named Lefty (who, coincidentally, I don't believe was actually left handed) kicked my tail!
Tail between my legs, and left to my own devices, I made friends with three boys who were standing near me. And by boys, I mean men. I may be an LKL (and if you don't know what that means, I'm not telling you), but I'm not gross. I don't pick up boys in bars. In fact, boys shouldn't be in bars. Which is nice alliteration. However, I did have my first experience with a MAN picking me up in a bar. Somehow he ended up with my number. (Probably because I gave it to him). Why not? If you can't give out your number when you're wearing a mistletoe headband, when can you give out your number? Am I right?
Long story short, he texted me a week later and asked me out. As another side note to the men of this world: take my advice and call a girl to ask her out. I know it's scary. But it shows confidence and I am much more likely to say yes if you actually call me rather than texting me. Apparently it didn't bother me enough to say no, though (I mean....a girl's gotta eat!), so we went out to dinner. And then on a whim we went bowling. Which was awesome! I was wearing a skirt and didn't have any socks, so I took off my hot pink CFM shoes, put on my fleece-lined tights I had in the car, and went for it. No bumpers, but lots of black lights! I love that my bug-infested rental shoes had glowing laces.
We bowled three rounds, made friends with the cool kids next to us who had their own shoes, balls, and ball slings (I'm not sure what that last thing is, but it was kind of neat), and then went our separate ways. But first I had to take off my tights because the crotch was riding down almost to my knees. First time usage. They hadn't quite been stretched out. My date did not know this was happening. But it sure was uncomfortable. And really funny to me all at the same time. I blame the tights on my consistently decreasing score. The lower the crotch went, the lower my score fell. Anyway, the date was fun, but I don't think we're on the same page about some important matters so I don't think it's going to go anywhere.
But here's to new experiences. May I have many more in 2012. I'm not sure I want to give my number out in a bar anymore, but maybe I'll go skydiving. That seems like a good use of my time and energy.
I will end with one more quick little quip (that's the 3rd word I've looked up to make sure I'm using it correctly), and consequently one more piece of advice. Last night I was at another bar. I ordered a hot chocolate. It was particularly delicious. As I got up from the stool, a very drunk man asks "What are you drinking?" I exclaim excitedly "Hot Chocolate!!!". His response "You're really attractive". "Thank you." I say and turn around and whisper "Let's go." to my friend. Great intro, drunk man. Yet another example, men, of what not to do to win over a pretty lady. Especially if you're saying it in a drunken slur. A nice complement, but it doesn't mean much when you abruptly blurt it out and I know you're seeing me through beer goggles. But hey, Happy New Year!
The end. I hope this was sufficiently entertaining. Until next time....
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