Uh...

There's this guy who's been stalking my OkCupid profile and journals every day, and has said almost nothing, which is somehow really creepy to me... especially when you see the pictures of him.

The biggest problem with OkC is that when you upload a new photo, a teeny, tiny thumbnail of it goes on the homepage of all people who are looking for someone like you. (In my case, all the photos are of single males who like women.) Why is this a problem? Because of what I previously mentioned... that if you click on someone's profile, you then show up in their list of recent "stalkers" and then they can go check out your goods. The worst part of that whole deal is that when an image is tiny, it often looks interesting or innocuous until you open it up full size and your blood runs cold.

That's what happened with this guy. One of his images was in the cropped, tiny thumbnail square and he was in my age group, so I clicked. My mistake, because it invited the following email:


From: Thorgrym (610 miles)
To: theshecreature
Date: Aug 26 7:37am
Subject: Don't take this wrong...

I won't lie; I was initially curious because you "Stalked" me. So few have done that that I'm forced by my insatiable curiosity to find out more.

But, having done that, I find you witty, charming and fun to read.

Yes, and I find you beautiful, as well, but that is a secondary consideration.

I'm overcoming my shyness to send this--contrary to popular belief, the 'Net does not lessen shyness; it merely reinforces the negative aspects of it by giving one a false sense of security--only in the hopes of one thing: giving you a bit more hope in life.

I expect nothing in return. No communication, nothing. If all I have done is helped you a little bit by complimenting you on your charms, that's good enough for me.

There are far, far too many people out there who do not know their worth. I suspect you may be one of them.

Take care,

Thorgrim




37M, York, Pennyslvania
65% match 72% friend 22% enemy
*shudder*

I'm thinking he's probably an overly handsy gym teacher or he likes to hang out in parks around the swing sets.

Writer’s Block

Last Wednesday night, I couldn't sleep. I was frustrated... VERY frustrated. And I was in pain. But I really couldn't blog about either, because both had to do with a certain someone whom I'd been dating for about 11 weeks. You may have seen him in my top friends spot (he's not there now, so don't confuse Cully for this person, please! he's since been moved out.) I had a literal pain in my neck from the figurative pain in my neck, whom I'd been dating. I really shouldn't kiss and tell, but why should I stop now?

I gotta say, with the exception of one rendezvous where he left me covered in purple bruises and looking like I'd just wrestled an octopus, there was nothing to report... and I mean NOTHING to report... at all... in 11 weeks. And the last time he'd stayed here, about 2 weeks ago, all he did was snore and jump and twitch and fart all night, relegating me to the couch to try to get any sleep at all, which left me with a seriously crimped neck, which progressively got worse, like a slipped disc or something, leaving me walking around with my head tilted to my shoulder. And did he ever so much as help out with a massage of any kind. No. He was an all-around impotent, inexperienced, and ineffectual guy, you could say.

Anyway, I'm not one to keep my preferred readers in the dark for too long, so I thought I'd finally post this entry from last week, which I'd placed on OKCupid instead, because I didn't want him getting a notification before I'd broken things off and had to hear him whimper about not being able to read my blog... because he tends to cry at the drop of a hat. I've finally chosen to drop the axe, however, and free myself from any more nights sleeping with five of the seven dwarfs: farty, twitchy, snorey, jumpy, and sadsack.

Yeah, I know I'm terrible. I'm also still extremely cranky from not getting any for all these weeks and still quite crimped up, so cut me some slack, yous guys.


Why I'm still up... Aug 23 4:08am

I get asked that question quite often by people who are usually up at this same hour, but with the excuse of "I couldn't sleep, but why are you up?"

Well, if I could sleep, do you think I'd be up? No.

Tonight I tried and tried to sleep, but there's been a pinched nerve in my neck/upper back for about 2 weeks now, so no position was comfortable. Plus, I found myself really wanting to drive to an all-night convenience store to buy some Reese's Peanutbutter Cups and a pack of Marlboro Lights (I don't smoke anymore, but I couldn't shake that thought). So instead of taking my life into my hands with the purchase idea, or taking a Tylenol PM that might leave me groggy all the next day, I opted for another plan.

FRESH BAKED COOKIES!

Yes, at 3am.

I've done this before, but usually I can distract myself with something more productive (and less filling). But there are times when I just cannot resist the calling. Like tonight.

So the real question should be, "why cookies at this hour?"

The answer is simple. I'm sublimating. What I really want is sex. Of course, any glimpse into the tests I've taken should quickly reveal an on-going theme.

The problem stems from an extended period... nearly a year now... of settling for less than my libido would desire... a LOT less. Like the 7-month relationship with a developmentally-arrested perpetual 12-year-old who preferred comic books to sex, followed by 2 months of attempting to be celibate, followed by another much briefer dating relationship with a man who takes enough anti-depressants to kill a horse's libido and apparently less knowledge than a boy half his age (I met him on here, and if he reads this... sorry! At least I'm not identifying you!).

Anyway, after 2+ months of nothing at all with that and very little with the other, I'm about to jump out of my skin. I've even come close to calling in a stunt cock.

No, I'm not soliciting. Please don't offer. I'd prefer a real relationship.

The only similarity between those two men is that they're both Pisces men, born in 1970, and went to high school in the Bronx. Maybe something was put in the water in the 80s there?

It seriously makes me want to reconsider the many offers that have been made by guys in their early 20s. I think that they've learned what guys in their mid-30s have forgotten: women 35-45 have RAGING hormones! Seriously. We're the equivalent of what you boys were at 17... you remember how bad that was, don't you? Now think about that combined with all the sexual mastery and know-how that an additional 20+ years can bring. I'm like a deadly weapon.

So here I sit, surfing pictures of cute guys, which only makes it worse... forget about porn, because that is just too painful to watch. And toys or self-pleasure only go so far when you're craving the heat and sweat and passion of the real deal.

I also have too much self-esteem to troll the "intimate encounters" sites. That's like Darwin's Waiting Room in those places.

So I've polished off half of the dozen cookies that I baked. I don't even know how long that tube of dough had been in my fridge, because the expiration date was for March 2007. Wait -- March? Well, I'll be damned! Even my sublimation is a Pisces.

No, I'm not really into Astrology... I'm just searching for connections while riding a sugar high and still horny as hell in the middle of the night. Give me a break.

Anyone else in the same boat want the other 6 sugar cookies? I can't say they "hit the spot," but they weren't terrible either.

The child formerly known as...

Tonight I had to help Malachi print out an assignment, which happened to be a letter to a fictitious student named "Fred" who just started his first year of middle school somewhere else. I guess teachers have stopped caring about having kids make real penpals in far away places, since those dicks rarely write back (yeah, I'm talking to YOU, Jagriti Chattergee... 25 years later and I'm STILL waiting).

He did just fine on the assignment and the body of the letter contained the usual pablum about teachers and fun things at his new school. What confused me, however, was how he signed it:

Yours truly,
Vince Ryan

I looked at the assignment sheet, which very carefully detailed the layout of a proper personal letter and also contained the fictitious addressee's information. Yet in all of that, nowhere on that sheet was the name of a fictitious writer.

So I asked, "Who's Vince Ryan?"

Staring rather embarrassed back at me, Malachi sheepishly replied, "Um, th-that's me. Yep."

"Malachi... were you supposed to make up a character for this assignment?"

"Nope, that's what Ms. F calls me."

"Hang on... what?!"

"She calls me Vince, so do a few of my friends."

That's when I had a flashback of something strangely similar that I went through two years ago when Aidan had her class, and he'd come home announcing that he told his Language Arts teacher that his nickname was "A.J." because those are his initials and some other kids had names like "D.J." or "J.T." ... and then I had to explain to Aidan that nicknames are what parents call a kid at home, and those other kids were combining their first and middle initials, which wouldn't work for him, as his are "A.T.," and so I had him go back the next day and straighten things out with his teacher.

So I asked Malachi, "Did Ms. F ask you on the first day of classes if there was a nickname that you'd rather go by?"

"Yes, and my friends wanted me to have a name that sounded like it would go with playing the violin, so they chose Vince... I added the Ryan part."

Having a good laugh, I said, "But your name doesn't have ANY of those names in it. If your name was Christopher, your nickname would be Chris. Or if you and your dad had the same name, yours might be a little different so things wouldn't be confusing at home. There isn't even a Vince or a Ryan in our whole family, and unless you have another personality or an acting career that I don't know about, you need to stop telling people to call you this. Now do any of your other teachers call you Vince?"

"No, just Ms. F."

"Has she been calling you that since the first day of school? Like when you raise your hand, she says 'Yes, Vince?'"

"Maybe."

That did it for me. Aside from the fits of giggles and then running upstairs to tell his brother and sister of these shenanigans and share the laughs with them, I finally calmed down enough to fire off an email to the unwitting teacher.

Hi there, Ms. F--

This is Malachi's mom and I just learned something kind of funny that I needed to clear up with you.

Apparently on the first day when you asked if anyone went by a nickname that they'd rather be called, Malachi thought he could give you any other name -- sort of like your class was a role playing game. When I saw his letter just now and asked if the signature of the letter ("Vince") was part of the assignment, that's when he told me that's what you call him and what he goes by in your class. I had to explain to him what nicknames actually are in real life, because he seems to just be going by this made up name in your class only. He says some of his friends call him this, but honestly, this is the first time that any of us here have heard of it. He goes by Malachi by me, his dad, his siblings, and all friends who call this house. I'm sorry if he's confused you. I just thought I should clear it up and hopefully you'd get a bit of a chuckle out of it as well!

--S

P.S. You also know me as Aidan's mom, but of course in this case, the two identities are appropriate!

This is what happens when kids grow up with role playing games and believing it's okay to create a new identity for yourself at the slightest suggestion. Of course, I really shouldn't be surprised. This is the same child who told everyone that his real family was from Mars from the time he could talk until about age 4... described life there in great detail, too, including how the gravity squished everyone's bodies into an apple shape and how they would bounce and roll around there, later adding that they were originally from Jupiter, but had moved to Mars shortly after he was born.

He still gets embarrassed when I tell people that story. I can't wait to meet his first girlfriend!

25 Sentences About Me

25 sentences about you

Finish the sentences:

1. I've come to realize that my ex is :
a mistake that I do not wish to make again.

2. I am listening to :
my inner dialog, as usual.

3. I talk :
to myself... a lot.

4. I love :
puppies, ponies, fainting goats... oh my!

5. I have :
a very active imagination... you should ask me about it sometime.

7. I lost :
my mind years ago... have you seen it?

8. I hate it when :
condiments touch the cheese on a sandwich.

9. Love is :
still a theory I'd like to test one of these days.

10. Marriage is :
something I want to try again, but only if I meet the right person this time.

11. Somewhere, someone is thinking :
dirty thoughts about me.

12. I'll always be :
over-educated and under-paid, it seems.

13. I have a crush on :
one of the instructors at my kids' Tae Kwon Do academy, but he's married and much, much younger than me, so it's just a crush.... no more, no less.

14. The last time I cried was :
when I read a friend's memoriam to his good buddy and fellow comic book artist, Mike Wieringo, who passed away suddenly this week at the age of 44.

15. My cell phone :
has a brand new phone number after more than a decade, and it starts with 404 now... so If you want to reach me, you'll have forget about the 678 number and ask for my new digits, because I have no idea how many of you are still trying to reach me on my old number!!!

16. When I wake up in the morning :
I always want more sleep.

17. Before I go to sleep at night :
I always want more hours in the day.

18. Right now I am thinking about :
where that person is who's thinking dirty thoughts about me and wondering why he's keeping those thoughts to himself?

19. Babies are :
totally and completely awesome... as long as you're having them and not me!

20. I get on Myspace :
far too frequently.

21. Today I will :
go to the gym, not just think about it.

22. Tonight I will :
take the kids to Tae Kwon Do and then pick up the lawnmower from my mother's house, so Malachi can finally mow the weeds tomorrow morning.

23. Tomorrow I will :
probably end up doing half the mowing, because Malachi will be too busy trying to run things over rather than pay attention to all the parts of the yard he's missing.

24. I really want :
a puppy... a pony... some fainting goats... a riding mower... all the various remodeling projects in my house to be finished... peace, love, and happiness.

25. The person who is most likely to repost this :
is me... but I already did.

Left is right

I had no clue until someone told me just now...

Left-Handers' Day 2007

And here I'd ignorantly squandered my day using right-handed scissors and greeting people via the status quo handshake standard. I'll make it up next year by writing rather than typing as much as possible with my wrist all curled over my words and by forcing everyone else to shift their fork hand to accommodate me at the dinner table, instead of the other way around!

Cheers, fellow southpaws!