The Ballad of Boo

Fyi…I had a BRILLIANT much-anticipated, national treasure of an entry going and then a little old bat shit crazy church lady made me cry. Just so you’re all aware.

Anyhoo…I heart this to itty bitty pieces:

'we need the excuse of a fiction to stage what we truly are.'

This blog has been a brought on a new emboldened state of self, followed intermittently by states of paralysis. A blank blog presents a pressure unlike anything I’ve experienced before. The anonymity of it, certainly enables a bravado to be open and honest in a sense, but then coupled with the vulnerability of sounding like a whiny brat with bad grammar let alone questionable life choices I go blank. And that just gets me through the title.

Feeling the need to expand the girlinthebuff empire, I’ve taken our show on the road to Tucson back and forth a bit which has provided ample time for self-analysis and people watching/judging…err, I am trying to minimize the judging but I’m also a bitter baby right now…so I judge, a lot. But I digress…back to self-anlaysis, fiction, frauds, and true selves…hooray!

There’s a difference between being a fraud and not even knowing what one aspires to pretend to be…I’m just not sure which category I’m in and vagueness, “nebulousness” are par for the course…apologies, again.

I’ve been settling into this state of unsettlement in my life for a bit now…it’s creeped up on me over this year, & now I have this gnawing suspicion that I have done just that—settled that is. Pick your definition and it will suffice. Being a privileged white girl from the upper middle class I tend to have this massive guilt complex in general, apologizing is the norm.  I’m sorry.

I operate in bubbles. Not literally…not like Bubble Boy or the guy on Allen…but I like to keep the different circles I operate in separate and distinct. When bubbles collide they pop and Lord knows I have an aversion to cleaning things up. Maybe this has been indoctrinated from an early age, but people pleasing was something I regarded as a positive trait up until the last couple days. So now people aren’t happy and I’m at a loss…shocking. Bubbles have burst.

So all of this is to say that I am grateful for this blog. I’m not about to go all Eat, Pray, Love on you (you’re welcome—and I’m off carbs right now) but it’s incredibly refreshing to address no one in particular—hence not having the conversation in my head ahead of time to figure out the path of least resistance and popularity. Welcme to crazy town.

So I’m tired, sad and generally unpleasant. But that’s me, that’s the truth and that’s legit. That’s Boo in a crazy nutshell. No apologies. Sorry.

Now watch out little old ladies!!!

Xoxo,

Boo

OkStupid and how internet dating is changing the world

We're all friends here, right?  Well, come closer, just a bit closer, I have a secret to tell you. Not that close, your breath smells of rancid rat guts.

Deep breath.... here it is....

I am an on line dater. Or, I am a member on an online dating site. However you want to put it, I am a virtual dater (damn it, that doesn't FULLY work either)....you get what I'm saying. I've given up on real life dating and moved onto something simpler, from the days of yore.

Following my break up with a father of two who lives in Toronto, following a month of wallowing in my room writing terrible poetry about the sun and how it never shines in my bedroom, following gallons of tears and wine, following thousands of calls to my mother, and finally concluding he was and is an stupid fuck face, I joined an on line dating service.

I'm actually not all that embarrassed about joining an on line dating site. I'm kind of busy. Sort of. And let's be honest, once you join, you kind of craft these ridiculous justifications for doing it. And some are legitimate, others are horse shit.


I was also tired of the one night stands and sexual experiences that leave you empty and unsatisfied (Let's be real here, I actually thoroughly enjoyed those at times....The idea of exploring your sexuality with men and women without the accountability or work is at times an essential part of growing. The theoretical can only take you so far.) I digress as I often do.....I'm having flashbacks and I just want to take this opportunity to thank some of those people for their hard work and for leaving before the sun came up.


It's been, how you say, an experience. The short stint has been rich with douchebags, masochists, pathological liars, sociopaths (oh green eyes, I still miss you late at night when I have more alcohol coursing through my veins than blood-that's love), and men who hate their mothers. Don't get me wrong, there have been some real gems in there as well, but just like in real life, they are far and few between.

Ive also probed my dear friend following the 3 dates that she's gone on in order to collect more ....evidence.

The first date was with a gentlemen who didn't have a car, so she had to drive out and pick him up. The date didn't go so well, for a bunch of reasons. No one person can be at fault, unless they do something wildly atrocious....

What we found particularly amusing was that the guy emailed here  AFTER THE DATE   to tell her how awesome the date would have been if SHE weren't so nervous. Laundry list of things he would have done to "knock her socks off" had she not exhibited anxiety....on a first date....with someone she met on line...and who could be  serial killer.....In the words of Gob...COME ON.

Dude also acted put off and judgmental when she refused the generous invite to his basement apartment/room in his mothers basement following their less than successful date. 

The other dates were less abrasive, but they all ended in -dude likes girl, girl thinks dude is ok, maybe friends? dude still tries to kiss girl, girl turns, dude gets cheek....burnz.

She has another date tonight....I know....I know...I cannot wait for the outcome either. They really are like mini-novellas. And plus, the action that I am seeing is nil, so I've made a very concerted effort to live vicariously through my friends.  I have a friend who models, soooo, potentially I could say I am "vicariously modeling."  I also have a friend who is a dr. soooo....I think we can all see where this could potentially go.

OK ok ok ok (eddie izzard fans out there?) where was I?

...how internet dating is changing the world. Aside from the obvious incredible stories women and men come away with from these experiences, as well as the ability to view and read about jackasses, douche bags, megalomaniacs, egotistical jerk wads and the list goes on (the hope is, that you will find all of this amusing and not depressing. I wouldn't say its indicative of an increase in these types of individuals, just more that we can now access entry into their perverse stupid minds), internet dating, the new millenniums' Yenta, is fundamentally altering how we date.

How so?

• We have a new screening process, that we control...sort of. Much of this of course is predicated on whether or not the individuals are being honest as to who they are.

                        And we loop back to the whole serial killer thing...ASK HIM/HER is HE/SHE is a
                        fucking  killer.....this DOES NOT make you look crazy, only smart, savvy, and   
                        obsessed with serial killers. It's a good thing.
                      

            

• We can have thoughtful conversations with people via email...we have the ability to erase what we say and come up with something even more delightful, even more witty, and we can google/wikipedia information to bolster our intellectual appearance. Seriously though, this is yet another mechanism for weeding the douches out and laying a foundation for a possible face to face. Its equally as challenging crafting interesting questions, answering in your own voice, and ultimately the same feeling and sting of rejection is there if they never respond.  
• This gives us practice if we ever decide to date in a more "traditional" way. 
• For some of us, potential suitors existed in very specific scenarios. For example, I've been doing the facebook stalking (just like any healthy well adjusted fulfilled individual) and many of my "friends" are marrying or dating people from college. So, college is one of those spaces that we meet suitors. Work, school, friends. These are generally the institutions that create spaces for people to meet up, greet up, and fall in love. But often this means that they are somehow networked into your pre-existing web, which is not a bad thing. My claim is just that internet dating (maybe I really just mean the internet) is changing the world....and expanding our social networks in meaningful ways (not accumulating 6.5 trillion friends on Facebook) is one of those things we couldn't do 5 years ago.  

The list could go on. I was formally trained as a social scientist....meaning I should have picked a side and stuck with it, tested my hypothesis, measured my variables,  given  you all that voodoo crap, but I didn't and I actually now think that maybe internet dating is neither good nor bad, just different.  There's no question though that its playing a fundamental role in altering the human experience.  I know I know, not everyone's using it, but enough people are (at least here in America), that my "sample size" is large enough.

Internet dating gives us the freedom to choose, makes dating more "convenient" and simpler in a way. It goes beyond traditional social networks,  decreases  limitations,  provides us with protection from the cruelty of a few "playas" -not like the word beach, but you know, "the Situation" and the such. And there's a romantic element as well-we write more, we return to wooing through the written word. There's something comforting about that....and its always interesting to see how history repeats itself.

Boo, where have you been? I could have clearly used some help here....instead I unloaded a garbage dump of thoughts. Sift through it assuming you're prepared with a haz mat suit, a nose plug, and a bullshit meter.

The Wine-o's take a breather

‎Oddly enough, following the entry about really sticking with the blog and celebrating our dedication, we collapsed into silence. Our apologies. To our one dedicated follower. Bless you O' Canada.

I can tell you from my end, I've been spending far too much time watching "When Harry Met Sally" and "Romeo and Juliet" and feeling particularly sorry for myself. More so than usual. Anyway, beyond concurring that love is absolutely a cruel joke played upon us by the gods and deciding I'll get what she's getting, I've been reclusive. Not JD Salinger reclusive, for the record. 


Anyway, before this spirals into a  series of blogs where I wax poetic about my comparably charmed life, I leave you with this. Because, hipsters....well when they are as self indulgent and unaware as this joke makes them out to be.....suck.

"How many hipsters does it take to change a light bulb?”
 

“It's a really obscure number, you probably haven't heard of it.”

-Boobs

Manny Poppins and other musings

Well kids, I finally determined how much "too much wine" actually is.  The details shall remain details, to be journaled about and discussed while horizontal on my therapists couch, for I am afraid if they were to come out you would see me in a different light and this blog would lose all credibility. OR sharing them would gain us credibility and legitimacy and prove once and for all, our life decisions are questionable. I spare you though. I've got my reasons. Lets just say I woke up at 10am fully clothed, heels on, and several dollars lighter. The biggest disappointment was having missed four 3:30am booty calls. I have a lot to make up for in the next week.

On Friday, Girls in the Buff celebrated its one week anniversary. BOO! We made it! I find this significant because I tend to pick up "hobbies" only to put them down an hour later. I have approximately 16 unfinished scarves, 3 model airplanes still in their boxes, a train set barricading a room in my parents house, 5 unfinished paintings, and let's not even get started on the ant farm/graveyard. But here we are, our first benchmark....one week and a handful of days. And we are going strong. Don't worry, there are more sordid stories stored on our BBM, texts, and emails that shall leak out in the weeks and months to come. Point being, we're dysfunctional, we have plenty of fodder for the masses.

I'd like to take a minute to apologize to the folks that have googled the following and ended up at our blog, extremely disappointed I am sure-girls in the buff, chicks, buff, boobs,tits,in, the etc. We've had a good amount of traffic through the blog, but I remain confident that most of the traffic has been caused by a few lonely folks seeking adult entertainment and instead  finding themselves here-a self described self indulgent window into the psyche of off kilter, intelligent, yet insane women attempting life.  Please don't hate us. Our intent was NOT to dupe you...though we are reaping the benefits.

So, in a series of losses this week, green eyed sociopath (real loss?, not sure), dignity (see "too much wine" commentary), favorite earring (see "too much wine" commentary as well), I lost my Manny. For those of you not in the KNOW, Manny is Man Nanny.  I am not wealthy, I might even be kinda poor depending on what guidelines you use (the guidelines set forth by the Federal Government or Cosmo), but yes, I had a Manny (Think Tony Danza only 6'5, Puerto Rican and stunning. I never did catch him in the shower, though believe me, I tried. Oy, I just aged myself.). I am in my late 20's, I have no kids, save the infant that I turn into after a few bottles of wine, I rent, my phone gets turned off once a month, and I have a dog. I need a Manny.

Let's begin at the beginning. My dear beautiful friend Rico (anonymity is crucial here, who would want to be associated with me?), was headed off to school in Toronto to get his N.D (Nature Doctor, like dude who plays bongos to stop the profuse bleeding from your femoral artery following a horrible wild bear attack, or dude who uses pins and shit to heal pain and anxiety, blah blah blah). At the border, however, Rico was turned away, he was told NO, you cannot enter this country and learn.  So, Manny Rico found his way back to our house and sadly set up a bedroom and a life, anticipating his stay would last for an eternity (read: a few months).

This is boring, I'm going to skip a few weeks.

Rico wanted to give back to the house for my roommates incredible hospitality (I'm fairly inhospitable and toxic and bitter), so he did our dishes, walked my dog, and cooked. FOR FREE. I suggested he wear an elephant banana hammock, BECAUSE OF HIS DEEP LOVE FOR ELEPHANTS, but he opted out. That was my addition to the relationship.

Rico found his way back into Toronto last week. I cannot say how or when.....or whether it was by legal means, but he went back. Which means he's doing more astrology than dishwashing, more smellotherapy than dog walking.

So, this weekend I watched sadly as the dishes took over the kitchen and a segment of the bathroom, dog moped around the house, my bed went unmade, and my life turn to shambles. I blame it all on the loss of my Manny Poppins (see "too much wine" commentary as PROOF).

My Manny lies over the border, My Manny lies over the lake......Please bring back my Manny to Meeeeeee.