Before I get to the self-stroking RV stuff I fixed, I want to talk about something sort of important, for once…
My Yahoo! editor has fallen off the face of the earth which means I’ve been able to write more on this blog. Lucky you! (No contact in about a month now, and I’ve submitted a great story idea and an article in that time, along with a few reminder emails.Whatever.) So in between writing the next episode of Tales From the RV Park, I checked my blog stats on Google Feedburner and noticed I lost about 20% of my subscribers within the four days after this post: Online Dating: Oh my. Well, this explains a lot. The post may or may not explain a lot about online dating, but I can’t figure out why I lost so many subscribers. I thought the post about the hunter-gather principle would’ve been the one to turn folks off. Or, far more likely, this post,this post, or this post. Was it something I said?
I don’t try to offend anyone on this blog, but I realize it happens. Heck, I do it in my face-to-face life, too… I suffer from “Foot In Mouth” disease all the time. It’s probably that missing filter thing I mentioned in my About page.
Since I brought up the online dating, some of you may be wondering about what’s going on with the Online Dating Chronicles. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Ziltch. Zero. Concerned I might say something “sans filter” – like I do on this blog - I have been extra cautious when writing back to the few men who’ve sent me a normal email. The conversations always seem to go quite well… and then nothing. They just stop replying, or send one random sentence in reply to our regular email exchange – a sentence that contains no question in which to reply. And, no asking to meet or to talk on the phone.
I do live about an hour and a half (or more) from the ones writing. Maybe that has something to do with it – in the end they just don’t want to bother with the distance. I don’t know, that’s just a guess. Maybe I’m offending the crap out of them, too.
So,I’m done with the online dating thing. The endless emailing that goes nowhere has taken its toll on my level of interest.
Which means I will continue offending and/or boring the crap out of the few of you dear readers I have left…
Self-Stroking Post RV Stuff I Fixed All By Myself
There is a dichotomy to the RV lifestyle: A lot of stuff needs fixing or regular maintenance, which sucks. But when you fix it all by yourself, it’s an awesome moment of pure pleasure. SPOILER ALERT: If you can tell someone about it and they make all the appropriate facial expressions and comments, the moment of awesome lasts even longer.
Maybe it’s just me, but I get a real thrill out of fixing some, often random, item on my RV. Is that feeling why men love fixing stuff?
*light bulb goes on above my head*
Ohhhh, I totally get it, guys. It makes me want to get frisky, too.
I will now tell you about Stuff I Fixed All By Myself because you are a captive audience that’s really nice to me.
Well, it’s this or you could go back to the work you’re avoiding. Ok, we’ll compromise – I’ll keep it short, kind of. To help with keeping it kind of short, just know the links below are all to previous posts so long-time readers can skip those. Everyone new has to read them. Why? Um, you might learn something. Yeah, that’s it.
Now that we’ve got that settled, I shall commence with the list of Stuff I Fixed All By Myself:
Tales From the RV Park is now a sporadically posted series. Yes, “sporadically posted” just like “Ten Things Tuesday” is a sporadically posted series when I remember it. Do you realize how hard it is to come up with ten related things for a post?
In the past, I’ve posted several stories about the goings-on at RV parks where I’ve camped. These stories are now grouped into the “Tales From the RV Park” category. Those are listed below, as well as an update on attention-getting Butt-Crack (aka “BC”), and a new resident nicknamed Studly. Someday, I plan to turn “Tales From the RV Park” into an e-book of the same title.
Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me, and I have no money.
Some stories you may remember:
“Don’t make me get my gun out. Again” There is a slight problem with living and working at the same place. I learned that the hard way during my first workcamping gig in an RV park. Now I’m VERY cautious about mentioning the name or location of the park where I’m camped or workcamping. Thanks, No Boundaries Dude.
“In Loving Memory of Checkers…” is a tribute to my first co-pilot, and about the kindness of rangers, one who built a beautiful box for Checkers to be buried in, and the other who let me bury her in the park.
Editor’s note: I wrote this a long while ago (two years??), but just now found it in my files. If some references seem old, that’s why. I’m still quite surprised I forgot a whole, almost finished post. God only knows what other things I’ve forgotten.
This is probably what happened when I forgot the post.
For “Ten Things Tuesday” (on a day that probably isn’t Tuesday), I present Ten InformativeUseless Random Things About Me:
1. I can’t find my way out of a paper bag, even with GPS. It’s true. Why I thought I could travel the country with maps and GPS and not get lost is beyond me.
2. I forget where I parked my car every time I go into the grocery or department store. Every. Time. If I remember to make a conscious effort to mentally note where I parked before going inside, I can usually exit the store, stand there for a minute while I recall the mental note, and then locate my car – without pushing a shopping cart all over the parking lot for ten minutes before finding it by accident. Not that that has ever happened.
3. I’ve never camped before buying my RV. Unless you count that one time with Chickenbone in our grandparent’s backyard. We were 11 and 9. I had fun (because food and a bathroom were nearby, obviously). But that night we found out my sister is “tasty”: If there is a flea within 100 miles it will find Chickenbone and bite her. She must give off a scent. She woke up with approximately 200 flea bites. I had three. One, two, three bites. I’m not tasty. (Zombies, take note – I’m not tasty.)
Got issues with your Norcold refrigerator? You’re not alone!
(Norcold is a brand of refrigerator in many RVs. Feel free to skip this post and go to the next one if you don’t have an RV or aren’t interested in all the crap you have to fix if you own one.)
A portion of the glacier of ice that once occupied my freezer. It’s about two inches thick here, but started as three inches in the center. Yeah, yeah, so I let it go for a while – what of it?
My Norcold fridge doesn’t do well in high heat, the current temperature in south central Texas. I’m hoping you have better solutions than what I’ve tried. Besides, I’m losing interest in the Online Dating Chronicles. Not even the “30 Boyfriend Rules” profile written by two little girls got a response. Perhaps potential candidates suspected my snarkiness in posting it in place of my original profile.
Issue #1: The back of the freezer has accumulated a glacier’s worth of ice.
I suspect the extra weight negatively effects my gas mileage. Global warming is not effecting my RV fridge. If there is such a thing as Global Warming, the world is welcome to use my fridge to help combat it.
I tried to thaw it, only to have my hairdryer die after about two minutes. WTF??? The hairdryer still works, but seems to over heat and shut down when trying to thaw the fridge. It wasn’t making a dent in the glacier anyway.
Next, I chipped at the wall of ice with a knife for another thirty minutes, switching arms, back and forth, as each arm tired out. Thirty minutes and two aching arms later, I had made such little progress it was depressing.
Issue #2: The small drip tray in the top, back of the regular cold area of the fridge freezes over and won’t drain.
This post is brought to you by the internet. Yes, that means I’m phoning it in. Why? Because two little girls wrote a better dating profile than I did. I should stick to blogging, and collecting cats.
Now I know what I’ve been doing wrong with this online dating thing — besides doing it at all. Two little girls, ages six and nine — YES, 6 and 9, — have summed up in 30 bullet points what I tried to do with several pages of (probably useless because most men aren’t reading it) text.
It’s funny, scary accurate, and insightful: “#4 not living with Parents”.Whoa. I sure could’ve used that line inthe past.
Go read it, I’ll wait.
And there you have it. These two girls have written a better profile that I did. I just might make it my new one, if I decide to carry on. However, I’ll change #10 to say “must like cats, and RV travel”, and #22 to “must love quirky blondes”.
UPDATE: I replaced my profile text with their 30 Boyfriend Rules, with only a few minor changes as noted above. We’ll see what happens!
You all are funny, and patient, and kind – and you are the reason I continue to slog through the junk in my online dating inbox. Your comments give me hope and encouragement there just might be a good guy among all the frogs in the online dating arena, and in the real world.
I thought you might enjoy reading a couple more of the less-than-stellar emails I got. These guys did not make it past what you see here, but the interaction makes for decent blog fodder – and as a warning to anyone considering dating again.
First up: Really hot service man, probable gym rat, 47 years old. Profile says he lives in Michigan. Bummer. (He’ll get a name in a few minutes; you’ll see why.)
Do a stranger a awesome favor please, would you take a moment to read my profile just as I’ve done here briefly yo yours beautiful
I’d like a opportunity to engage in one another’s meaningful and intellectually conversation and it be our basis of a refreshing friendship that may someday mature into a great friendship
A relationship that brought out the playfulness and amazingly smiles that truly emulates a great time
I’m the man that wishies to know you on a intellectual level now that you grabbed a whole of my attention and thoughts
May I someday compliment you by naturally generating a smile because not of the occasional and repeated holidays ie Valentine’s day approaching but because of the day’s in between
(Very American Name)
Have a peaceful nights rest tonight
Ok, at first pass, this seems like a really sweet letter, albeit riddled with poor English and grammar (not that I should talk). BUT, something about the treacly prose doesn’t ring true with me — it feels too contrived, too… something fake.
What is it with the laziness of men and online dating? Why, after they’ve indicated interest, can’t they email first, or even ask a woman out?
There is one guy with whom I’ve had quite a few emails. I’ve never been excited about him. So little so that I can’t even come up with a good nickname for him. I’m just going to call him Mass Email Guy. Like his name indicates, Mass Email Guy has sent me a gazillion emails, sometimes four in a row, never once asking me out. And, just as bad, rarely asking me anything about myself.
I’m officially bored. We’re done. NEXT!
RememberI Don’t Know My Age Guy (his profile said 43, but he claimed to be 49 in his email to me, said he’d made a mistake)? He wrote back:
Hi (“Not holding my breath Gal”),
I assure you that its nothing. Creepy :-). I think that it had something to do with of setting it up with my phone and no reading glasses!
You are definitely going to be traveling into some nice weather down here.
(I Don’t Know My Age Guy)
After telling him I’d be in his area in a couple weeks, that’s all he says? Huh. Okaaay.
I love the look of a man who is a bit stocky, or thick. Big shoulders, strong hairy legs, slightly muscular build – but not too “cut” – and just a little “extra” around the middle. He may not even consider his body looks good. (Many of you have heard me say this before. Sorry. I tend to repeat myself in person, too, so don’t feel alone.)
“The Hunter-Gatherer Principle” is just the name I’ve always called my preference for that look. My sister, on the other hand, prefers the very lean and toned look (and that’s how you would describe her husband). We don’t have a name for her preference, but she doesn’t have a blog so it doesn’t matter.
Theory behind the Hunter-Gatherer Principle: A man with decent muscles and carrying a little extra weight is probably a good provider. I’m taking a guess here my preference might stem from instincts left over from caveman days when those who could get the most food survived the best, and provided for their family. My subliminal thinking probably goes like this: “Hmm, he’s obviously a successful hunter-gatherer, and would make a good provider.”
That’s not saying I’m looking for my mate to be the sole supporter and take care of me (but I probably wouldn’t turn that down, either – I’m blond, not stupid). I can hunt and gather at the local store just like everyone else. I really don’t care for hunting or fishing, but accept it if that’s what “my guy” likes to do.
For the two weeks after taking my online dating photos offline, I had a blast hanging out with some fellow single RVers at the get together at the coast.
This was when Pye stowed away in the RV chassis for 150 miles. I still can’t believe how many opportunities she had to abandon the RV and take off, but she stayed with it. This gives me hope that someday she just might become a willing co-pilot.
Meanwhile, my dating profile photos were offline and I received no notifications of interest – not one. I added them back in over the weekend. Since then, I have received about 80 indications of interest – but no emails. I look through as many as time allows, and send the same back to those I also like. There are five mutual likes.
I’m actually excited about a couple of them. I’m curious to see how many of those will actually send an email. Call me old fashioned, but I just feel the man should email first. I’ve done it the other way, and it has always set the wrong tone for the rest of the relationship. Men seem flattered if you ask them out first, but, in my experience, they seem to pursue you with less fervor from there on out. It’s like the title of that movie, “He’s Just Not That Into You.”
As we wait for the brave ones to contact me, I’m going to show you some snakes.
No, no, no! I’m not referring to the “snakes” in the pictures the half-dressed men have sent of themselves. Although, I probably would post them if I didn’t think I’d be breaking some kind of copyright or privacy law.
So the title of this post is not a reference to men and the online dating arena. But I can see how you might have made that connection.
We interrupt our regularly scheduled episode of the Online Dating Chronicles to bring you …this post. I don’t know what to call it. I can’t make this stuff up. Even if I could be that dishonest, I’m neither that creative nor bright.
In the latest episode of OMGOMGOMGOMGcrazy shit Pye doesThe Life of Pye, she stowed away in the chassis/undercarriage of my RV for almost 150 miles and 3.5 hours!
*blond lemming faints*
Friday morning, on my way to meet up with a group of other single RVers, I packed up the RV for the first time in a long time. I was excited to finally be taking the RV on the road after many months. But, like so many things, this packing-up made Bipolar Pye nervous. (Last time I moved from one side of the park to the other, she peed on the driver’s seat.)
She took to her favorite sleeping and hiding spot behind the couch/hide-a-bed. It’s quite safe and secluded because the only way in is by diving down the small space between the back of the couch and the wall. And the only way I can retrieve her is by partially unfolding the couch/hide-a-bed, then crawling under and pulling her out. Knowing she was fairly well sequestered, I continued packing up the RV.