Tag Archives: Gentlemen

Happy Friday 5 – Don’t Bring Sand to the Beach

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Happy Friday, All!

Don’t bring sand to the beach. Especially if the beach is already full of cute, single, southern sand.

Today’s post is bright to you by The South. I love being back in the south! I honestly think I might stay a very long while. Here are five reasons why:

Why I love The South: The people. The southern gentlemen. And there are many single men. People are polite. These are my peeps. I immediately felt welcomed in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with southerners.

Why I love The South: The parties. My first week here and I’ve already been invited to two potlucks with bands, one on the beach. Although I was invited to ride along with a couple men, I am reminded of the phrase: Don’t bring sand to the beach. I will most likely drive my car.

What I’m practicing: Island time. Here in particular, everyone seems to be on Island time. There’s no rush. Appointments are merely suggestions, or rough estimates. People are more relaxed about setting up dates or appointments. Even though it’s been over five years, having lived in the hustle-and-bustle of the San Jose Bay Area for so long, I became accustomed to that rat-race pace of life. Island time is taking some getting used to – but I am fully on board with incorporating this practice!

Why I love The South: The beaches. The sun. The gulf coast. The sunsets. The sunsets are INCREDIBLE! I have to take pictures for you all, and will tonight at the beach party (I think it’s on an island – hard to tell, as they all kind of run together here). Meanwhile, here are some from a lovely lagoon.

20161007_175456
But, wait! There’s more…

Happy Friday 5 – Love him like you own him.

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[Note: On or about Fridays, I’m posting five things that I’m enjoying, that inspire me, or that make me happy. I’m totally ripping off this concept from Tim Ferriss’ 5-Bullet Friday. Where Tim’s five bullet points are typically highly useful mini life hacks and recommendations, mine are semi-useful life hacks mixed with more fluff, which means a cute puppy or kitty picture here and there or something about dating/sex/romance/relationships.]

Love on the beach.

Love on the beach.

Love him/her like you own him/her.

Here’s your Happy Friday 5:

What I’m reading again: Gerald Rogers’ viral article “Marriage Advice I wish I would have had…” Twenty tips on how to have an exceptional relationship. Check out and take note of #1, #4, #8, #12… aww heck, they’re all fantastic. Take note, young suitors.

What I’m listening to: “Cleveland County Blues” by John Moreland. Hella moving lyrics. It’s about a tornado in Oklahoma, but not really a tornado. (Don’t ask, just play it.) My favorite line: “I could bury all the memories. I could patch up all the holes. But I’d still feel your fingers on my soul.” This song has left fingerprints on mine.

What I’m taking: St John’s Wort. Touted as a ‘mood-enhancing’ herb, this over-the-counter supplement is having interesting (and rather positive) effects on things other than my mood. I was taking it before my surgery early last year but, per my doctor’s request, I stopped taking it before the operation. Even though I was given the “ok”, I didn’t continue after I was off the pain meds as I didn’t see a need. But, in an effort to stave off further bouts of depression, I started taking it again – and I’m really enjoying the effects. (Note: I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on the interwebs. Take this with a grain of salt, under a doctor’s supervision, and at your own risk.) But, wait! There’s more…

He claims he swapped legs with a jaybird and got cheated out of a butt.

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I went to the Pennsylvania Cabela’s.

In case you’ve never been, I’ll describe the Cabela’s experience: It’s like going to a zoo, but all of the animals are dead.

Wait, what?

Pennsylvania Cabela's

Pennsylvania Cabela’s

Before I go on, I should explain the title since, unlike my usual title/post combinations, this one isn’t self-explanatory or related to the topic of this post. I merely needed a catchy title so here’s the connection: I went to Cabela’s with a friend who claims he doesn’t have a butt. While I disagree and think he has a cute butt, I chose the title in deference to his claim, and because I enjoy teasing him. Unfortunately, he rarely reads this blog so he’ll probably never know.

It seems almost all men claim they have no butt. And, if I may speak for my gender, we pretty much think most men’s butts are cute. In general, you like ours, we like yours, and neither gender would look as good with the other’s butt. 

But I digress, and probably need a dose of meds, so I’ll move along now…

About Cabela’s in Hamburg, Pennsylvania

Cabela’s comprehensive display of dead things isn’t as gruesome as you might (naturally) think. It looks just like the zoo – all the animals are in “pens” decorated like their natural habitat. Other than the pens being inside a building, and the lack of a “poo” smell, there is no difference between Cabela’s and a real zoo.

Except that everything is dead. The animals But, wait! There’s more…

Ten Things Tuesday: Ways Texas Made Me A Better Person

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For Ten Things Tuesday – on a day that might actually be a Tuesday – I present Ways Texas Made Me A Better Person

(Once upon a time, I used to post a random ten things on a Tuesday. Sometimes it was Tuesday, sometimes it wasn’t, but that’s besides the point. It’s been some time since I posted a Ten Things Tuesday post so don’t feel bad if you don’t remember. I promised infrequent posts, and I’ve kept to that.)

I’m in Ohio for a short stay. I missed Texas as soon as I left it five days ago. I miss the wonderful people I’ve met there, I miss the weather, I miss the low cost of living (especially fuel), I miss the slower pace of the country life, and the slower pace overall.

The place in Texas that I left. What was I thinking? Oh, yeah. Work, that's right. Note to self: Buy a lottery ticket today.

The place in Texas that I left. What was I thinking? Oh, yeah. Work, that’s right. Note to self: Buy a lottery ticket today.

 

Before I came to Texas, for a long time I felt drawn to the state, a desire to go to there. I had no idea what it was really like, and no idea how much of an imprint it would leave on my soul. Texas changed me for the better. That may seem silly to say, but it is so different from the other states in which I’ve been – it really is like its own country.

(It may seem in some of the items below like I’m picking on California. I don’t mean to bash California. It is the one other place I lived for a long time, therefore my best reference point. I still consider it one of the most beautiful states.)

Ten Ways Texas Made Me A Better Person:

Driving polite. Oh, how I love the polite drivers in the Texas country! I’ve mentioned this before. Having come from the rush-rush “me first” attitude that seems to permeate the California cities, polite driving and polite drivers were a surprising – and refreshing – experience. As a whole, people in Texas don’t tailgate. If they want to go faster than you, you just drive on the shoulder for them until they pass. If there’s no shoulder, they pass you in the opposite lane when it’s clear. When they’ve passed, they even tap their brakes at you to say “Thanks”. But, wait! There’s more…

A rough day at Rough Canyon, or Does This Look Broken?

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The day was hot – hot like only central Texas can be in mid-August. The kind of hot that would burn an egg on the sidewalk. Waves of heat radiated off the asphalt road. We were headed to Rough Canyon at Lake Amistad for the day, pulling a boat behind us. It’s a long drive from north Hill Country to Lake Amistad, a long barren drive through miles of nothing, punctuated by the rare intersection named as if it’s an entire town.

It was in the middle of this long stretch of nothing, the kind of nothing where cell phone signals are non-existent, that we got a flat tire. Because, you know, that’s where stuff happens – in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal.

Parked off to the side of the road, an area covered in fire ant hills (for you non-Texans and non-southwesterners, those are aggressive red ants that leave a burning bite) my friend fixed the flat with the help of a roadside mowing crew that I flagged down. (Because your tax dollars are hard at work, mowing the sides of roads in the middle of NOWHERE.) They didn’t speak English, and my limited Spanish wasn’t much help, but we all used hand signals. (All joking aside, I’d like to add that country Texans and native Mexicans are some of the kindest folks, always ready to lend a hand to someone in need.)

After numerous fire ant bites (on everyone), a nasty gash on a finger or two (not mine), and a string of cuss words (also not mine), we were back on our way to Lake Amistad. Like the weather, the truck was running hot for most of the trip but we finally made it to…

Rough Canyon at Lake Amistad

It's a BIG lake.

It’s a BIG lake… this picture doesn’t do it justice, but it’s the only long-shot I took.

The following is a slide show of the high cliffs and caves. Native Americans once lived in these caves. But, wait! There’s more…

A Midnight Kiss in Hershey

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A midnight kiss in Hershey, Pennsylvania, on New Year’s Eve

For someone who loves cheezy roadside attractions, chocolate, and for whom New Year’s is her favorite holiday, it was a near perfect night.

Forget about the crystal ball. On New Year’s Eve towns all across Pennsylvania drop (or raise) a plethora of odd items: a strawberry in Harrisburg; a giant Peep in Bethlehem, where Peeps are made; ping-pong balls in Strasburg; a pickle in Dillsburg; a mushroom in Kennett Square; a wrench in Mechanicsburg (I love the sense of humor!); a 100-pound stick of Bologna in Lebanon; and shoes, cigars, race cars, and dozens of other oddball items.

My favorite holiday, chocolate, a goofy roadside attraction, and a big kiss at midnight.

My favorite holiday, chocolate, a goofy roadside attraction, and a big kiss at midnight. ( Beanies are not my best fashion attire, but it was cold! I’d have made a terrible neighborhood gangster – no one would’ve taken me seriously.)

In Hershey, they raise a giant Hershey Kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve. It’s seven feet tall, and 300 pounds of shiny steel shaped like the delectable dessert. The “flag” (kisses label) adds an additional five feet to the colossal confection.

The New Year’s Eve event was But, wait! There’s more…

Online Dating: Oh, my. Well, this explains a lot.

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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!

Remember I 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 wrote back, and this time specifically said I’d be visiting But, wait! There’s more…

He told 700 people, ‘I just spent the night with Kernut!’

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Continuing the theme of How to Ask a Gal Out (the “Don’ts”), I now present the “Do’s”…

Bouquet of red roses

Red roses, and a warmed heart. (No, I didn’t get roses from him or anyone in a long time, but I love getting flowers. hint hint)

He said, “I just spent the night with Kernut!”

That was the title of his post to the singles group list of 700 people!

Holy Shatner! Considering it’s been a while since anyone could claim that statement, I wasn’t sure what to think.

*blink*

His message to the list continued…

Ok, not like THAT. (Pity)

I am sitting in the airport in Albequerque, waiting to fly to South Dakota so I can “move” there. I came across the email with a blog link and have had a fabulous time reading old posts. She educated me on boondocking, took me to a brothel, gave me dating advice and explained why she is still single, although I honestly still don’t understand the last part. (By the way, I was married once. We had his and hers scissors. It helped a lot but not enough).

Anyway, if you haven’t followed her blog, you should. She is quite refreshing to read.

For the record, Kernut, even though I have used both fabulous and refreshing in this email, I swear I am not gay. I hope to meet you one day, although I am sure you will still choose singledom! And I agree, the 3 date rule is utterly stupid. Guys who believe it should be relegated to being brothel regulars.

(named withheld, reprinted with permission)

And that is the nicest review I’ve ever received.

Ok, it might be the only review other than what my dear and wonderful friends and followers write on Facebook.

Promoting my website with a kind review is awesome. Yes, I can be bought.

I didn’t know him at all before this, but now I’d like to meet him.

And that, folks, is Lesson One in How To Ask A Gal Out.

Lesson Two is below… But, wait! There’s more…

I joined Match.com. Again. I blame the cold medicine.

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

Yes, I did. I joined Match.com. Again.

I’m not well. I blame the cold medicine that got me to join the Booty Camp to which I’m now addicted. Those two things are related. No, I don’t know how.

It’s been about seven years and I’d forgotten about this part: I’ve got more Match.com emails and winks than I can respond to. There are many sweet guys on there who’ve written me. It’s really nice. And about time I got some interested attention from an emotionally available man. At least I think they’re emotionally available.

I know it’s only because I’m the “fresh meat” on the market that I’m getting all this attention and it will level out soon, but Holy Horny Ones Batman! I feel such pressure to respond.

Thank you to those of you who suggested I email that guy who caught my eye. He’s already responded FOUR times to my one. I think he likes me. Or he’s desperate. Huh.

Some of you, ok ONE of you, expressed an interest in the details of my profile. (The rest of you are under no obligation to keep reading.) Here’s a snippet…

I'm on cold medicine in this picture.

I’m on cold medicine in this picture.

(I couldn’t decide on an opening line, so I chose both. I’m like that with restaurant menus, too.) But, wait! There’s more…