Professional Purgatory

I'm at a point in my coming-out-of-retirement job search that is nothing short of awkward. Uncomfortable. Uncertain.

I don't like it.

I imagine it's a lot like dating a few different guys at once -- one of which you really, really like, but you're still unsure about how he feels. If my job search were a relationship, this is where I'd be with Suitor #1. Let's call him Barry.

Barry and I have flirted before, but we've been on 3 actual interviews dates. He's out of my league, but I'm going for it anyway. Sure, it seems like he might be ready to make it official, but he moves soooo slowly. All my cards are on the table and the final decision rests with Barry now. It's a waiting game. Will he call or won't he? Should I wait? How can I not? I NEED TO KNOW WHERE THIS RELATIONSHIP IS GOING, BARRY. I know you told me you need more time, but I'm dying over here.

In the meantime, there's Suitor #2. We'll call him Sam. Sam and I are going on interview date number 2 this week, and I'm still sorting through my feelings. He means well, he tries hard and he's made it clear we could be together for the long haul. He's got a lot more money than Barry, but less personality. And I don't know how long he's willing to wait while I wait for an official proposal or rejection from my first love.

Then, there's Suitor #3: Miles. Miles is like my boy toy. I'm not terribly interested in him, but I like having him around as an option. We've got our second interview date this week too. Dude can't really afford my tastes, but he adores me and I like the attention. I'm charming the pants off him and using his affection to fill the void I feel from Barry's silence. I know. Pathetic.

Finally, there's Potential Suitor #4. Carl. We have a mutual friend and even though I know nothing about him, that's good enough for me to keep him in the running. She likes him, I'd like him. We could be great together.

And as if this isn't enough of a mind fuck, I'm still giving my number out to other suitors too. Maybe "The One" is still out there.

Or maybe I'm just ridiculously neurotic.

Either way, I'm hoping this mess with all be straightened out within a month so I can get the hell out of professional purgatory. I guess I'm just not meant to play the field.

Senior Bachelorette: Drunk Grandma Edition

On Monday, we watched a bit of The Bachelorette. It inspired us to pimp out my grandma for a Senior Edition of the show... So, we pumped her full of wine and asked her a bunch of questions.

This is totally unedited (and thus awkward), but it's just one of our family vacation amusements.

Enjoy.

PART 1

Senior Bachelorette: Grandma Roz Edition from David on Vimeo.


PART 2

Senior Bachelorette: Grandma Roz Pt 2 from David on Vimeo.


Also... we have another video full of Grandma's life lessons. Consider this fair warning.

It's time

Well, family vacation is here once again. Time for my fam (minus my sister) and Dave's fam (minus his dad) to venture off to Virginia Beach.

It's a little awkward to take a vacation in the midst of, well, your retirement-vacation, but whatevs.

On Wednesday, we drive to Cleveland.
On Thursday, we celebrate my niece's 7th birthday.
On Friday, the boys go to an Indians game.
On Saturday, we wake up at 4am and begin the road trip to the east coast.

Then it's a week filled with sand, sun, good food and too much booze.

But not my sister.

Like I mentioned, my sister has chosen not to go this year, which is...sucky. Back when she was using, she came on vacation and was AWFUL to my uncle's family. Specifically my aunt. No one was blameless in their volatile relationship (and I had my fair share of issues with my aunt as well), but Carrie crossed the line. Big time. I would have thought it would have done irreparable damage to the family, but I would have been wrong. Forgiveness is a powerful thing.

Last year, Carrie came on vacation for the first time without a single drug in her system. My aunt was not there. I think it went really well and was a great primer for this year.

This is what I woke up to at one point on our fishing trip.

Our little chef

With mom

In the middle of it all

This year, my aunt WILL be there and my sister has decided not to join us. I just don't understand it. The house we're staying in was built for two families, so there's plenty of space. Carrie would have her own bedroom she could escape to whenever she needed. Hell, she could escape to Dave's family's condo if she wanted! She's also the only of us kids with a steady job right now and she's kicking ass in the kitchen she works at. She's in such a good place. There's nothing to feel down/defensive about. So why not spend time with the family for a week?

I even suggested she just come for 4 days and then fly back home on her own. She was interested in that, so I don't know why that didn't pan out.

It will be an interesting year at the beach, I guess. I'm still looking forward to it, but... it really won't be the same.

My own ghost adventure

I can't be sure, but I think I might be haunted.

The other night, sometime after 12am, I woke up to Dave kneeling at the end of the bed. One of the dogs was down there, so I assumed that he was probably moving her or something of that nature. (She tends to take over his side quite a bit.)

I felt the end of the bed moving as if Dave were fidgeting down there FOR NO REASON. I dislike being woken up, so I figured I'd squint open my eyes and give an exasperated sigh that meant, "Stop whatever the hell you're doing and go to sleep."

I opened my eyes and saw his outline -- his hair looked messy and he was facing me -- and even though he couldn't really see me in the dark, I rolled my eyes. Then I did my sigh and flopped over on my side, facing his part of the bed.

And that's when I noticed Dave sleeping peacefully right fucking next to me.

WHO THE HELL WAS ON MY BED?

The foster dog does not have a human face with messy boy hair, so it wasn't her. How freaky is that?

Even more freaky when I remember two nights earlier when I felt Dave touch my stomach while I was half-asleep. I peeked open to see him and, once again, he was passed out next to me. I brushed it off thinking that it must have been one of the dogs (their paws turn into human hands at night, right?) and went back to sleep.

But now?

I don't know.

I'm gonna have to call Zak Bagans to investigate.

Not pregnant, just PMSy

While watching Dexter last night, this thing made an appearance on my screen.

Me: What is that for?

Dave: Warming bottles. Because I guess microwaves aren't "good enough" anymore.

Me: Oh, that's right.

Dave: Dumb. Just use a microwave.

Me: No, Dave, microwaves seriously don't heat bottles evenly.

Dave: Oh, please. That thing is pointless.

Me: NO IT'S NOT. Microwaves don't heat evenly!

Dave: Come on.

Me: SHUT UP, DAVE, WE'RE GETTING ONE.

Dave: Uh, what?

Me: DEAL WITH IT.

Dave: No. We're not buying one. Ever.

Me: IT'S A NECESSITY. I'm buying it tomorrow.

Hi, I'm Lisa and I'm PMSy today.

Who-dy what-y?

These are the last few @ replies I've gotten on Twitter.

Spambots and someone who thinks I am her "BF," which I thought meant "boyfriend." And, no, that's not the first time that's happened.