I'm becoming a lesbian nun OR Wanted: fake boyfriend.

Seriously. . .



So, an update from my last post. My friend, feeling a bit like an idiot for giving out my phone number to a guy I will never date (side note: if the thought of kissing a guy who has expressed an interest in you puts puke in your mouth, it's probably best not to pursue things), explained to "Tyler" that I was not interested.



Here's what went down:



Friday night. I had a particularly shitty day at work. I had housing arranged for a client (I work with the homeless), who then proceeded to not show up. Homeless = no phone, and I have no idea where the fuck to find you. I drove all around town looking for said client to no avail. Great.

So, I get home from work and am feeling particulary down. My friend calls and says she's got corona in the fridge waiting for me. With limes. Score. Only problem? "Tyler" is there. But, I figure WTF and go anyhow.



I get there and everything is good. We have a beer, we have a smoke. Then "Tyler" has to go home and change out of his work clothes. He's coming back later for dinner. When he's gone my friend explains that she tried telling him I wasn't really interested. That didn't seem to work, so she told him she thought I might be seeing someone in either Kamloops or Vernon. I'm not, but I go to both places regularly, so it's a lie that could work. Apparently he didn't really go for the fake boyfriend routine either.



Flash forward to a few hours later. I'm helping my friend and the owner of the Native Art Gallery practice the song they've written for National Day of Healing and Reconcilation. We drum for a while. Then I give impromptu guitar lessons.



Then, at around 1o:30 "Tyler" feels the need to get more booze. (er, I found out he's got a bit of a drinking problem). So, he's trying to figure out what everyone wants to drink. The rest of us are pretty much done drinking, but he's not getting it. So off he goes to try and get more booze. Only by the time he gets his shit together the store is closed. So back he comes to say his good byes (to go back to his place and drink whatever he can find from the dregs of empties I guess).



So there I am , sitting in my friends living room with my friend, the owner of the gallery, and her husband when "Tyler" takes one of my hands in his, looks into my eyes with desperate longing and asks "can I call you?" To which I reply: "UH..... NOOOOOO!!!!"



I felt like kind of an asshole, but I mean if you don't get the fake boyfriend routine, you need help.



"Tyler" and my friend then proceeded to go outside for a smoke before he left. When my friend got back in she says to me: "Tyler said to make sure I tell you that he says goodbye."



To which I reply: "Did he not get what I said?"



No, apparently he didn't get it.



ARGH! Lesbian nun has never looked so good.

A Public Safety Message

I know, I know this blog is supposed to be for stuff that is musey and inspiring. I keep saying that. Then I keep breaking my own rules. This however, is important.

Ladies and bitches please pay attention. It appears that some members of our sex are not aware of "the code." You know, the one where you are trying to ditch a guy who wants your digits, but isn't getting the "NO" you are giving him cuz he's three sheets to the wind? So instead as you're running out the door to driveaway (because thankfully you had the foresight to see buddy was a creeper after only two glasses of wine and stopped drinking) you yell out "Yeah get my number from (insert name of totally clueless friend)!"

Of course, this little line is code to your so-called friend that she should NOT give out your digits. Instead, she will pretend to have "lost" them.

So why the need for this PSA: I'm at a friend's house. Her neighbour shows up. We hang out, it's fun times. He says he wants to ask me out. I say I like being single and am not interested and plan to stay single. He won't give up. As I'm leaving he asks for my # and I give him the "code" line. My friend gives out my number, after I left! So the next day I'm out in the garden and he calls! Of course I answer. Luckily I really had made plans for that night. Then I phone my friend and she claims she had no idea I didn't want to give out my #. To which I replied: I know my fucking number, if I want to give out I'll do it myself! YEESH!

So now I have a 40 year old (who has two teens!) trying to get into my pants. I turn 28 this summer. Yes I'm single, but PLEASE! I still have some standards. I am barely ready to be a mom, never mind a potential step mom to teens! YOWZA!
But, I digress....

In the sake of research I have relayed this incident to a number of women of different age groups. However, I've left out the part where my friend doles out my #. So far the concensus has been that "get my number from (insert friend)," is infact a code amongst women which means either a) pretend you lost my number or b) you can give them a number, just not mine.

Oh, and because I'm particularly bitchy today: 1) Yes I did try being straight forward with this guy and just telling him I am not interested. Didn't work people.

2) Men: you will forget everything you have read here on this blog. Repeat after me: Me like hockey! Me like hockey! Me like hockey! ME LIKE HOCKKKEEEEEYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!

Mmm caffeine

There's something about that first cup of coffee that makes my morning so much better, especially now that the 20 feet of snow we got this year has melted. That means warmer temperatures, which in turn means I can take my cup of java out onto my balcony and listen to the birds chirp (Ok sometimes that effing crow ruins the effect, but I digress).

I'm not a morning person, I don't want to talk to anyone, but there's still something about that cup of coffee that I love.

I think today I may go for a second cup :)

In wonder

When I was a kid I used to lay on the ground and stare up at the sky, wondering what was really going on above the treetops, and in the sky. Sometimes I still wonder.

Change is good

In the coming week I will be working towards changing Beautiful Muse back to its original intent. That is to post pictures, words, and thoughts which I find inspiring. Besides, my life isn't that interesting. I'm about to hit my late 20s, I'm single, I have a cat. Someone else is already blogging about that.

Mistakes

"Experience is simpy the name we give our mistakes."
~ Oscar Wilde

I've been thinking about the mistakes I've made in life. There's been a few, for sure (OK, a lot!) Sometimes when I'm lying in bed trying to sleep I start to think about the "what ifs."
What if I hadn't done this or that? What if I had done this instead? It doesn't change anything, though. I can't go back and undo what I've already done. Instead I'm trying to let each mistake go. Chalk it up to experience. Find the lesson in it, and then try to find the positive within that lesson.
It's not that easy. I'm stubborn. I hold onto every memory and in turn every memory holds onto me. I'm trying though. And that, at least, is a start.

Bored

So I'm sure half the universe has seen the following note somewhere on CrackBook. I decided to be different and post it here. Read, enjoy, laugh...
v1. Google ''[your name] needs'':
Melissa needs to take a break2. Google ''[your name] looks like'':Melissa looks like Rebecca Romaine (Uh, really? I don’t think so)
3. Google ''[your name] likes'':Melissa likes to call it stink (WTF?)

4. Google ''[your name] says'':
Melissa says “firemen suck!” (No I say good looking firemen can handle this flame anytime :)

5.Google '[your name]' wants:
What Melissa wants, of course, is everything but sex – love mainly, but also that human contact and respect and mutual affection (Um, can I have all this plus sex please. And where is this guy?)

6. Google ''[your name] does''
Melissa does the fishstick

7. Google ''[your name] hates'':
Melissa hates you.

8.Google ''[your name] can'':Melissa can swing her legs a full 360 degrees (Sorry boys, simply not true)

9. Google ''[your name] goes'':
Melissa goes nuts

10. Google ''[your name] is'':
Melissa is a given name for a female. (Duh)

11. Google ''[your name] loves'':
Melissa loves robot jelly shoes. (Yeah, OK)