It is 9:48pm Sunday night. I usually post ye olde blog on Monday mornings, but I won't have time to do it tomorrow and by Tuesday the thoughts swimming through my brain this evening may be lost and forgotten...so here I am.
I am exhausted. Physically exhausted. I've finally started my long awaited Yoga Teacher Certification training and it is quite the experience. That's another subject for a future blog, but the point is, although I am beyond tired, I was compelled to climb out of bed and address something...or is it someone? Mr. Sandman...Mr. Sandman can you hear me?
Yes Mr. Sandman, I am talking to YOU. Now, in the song it says "Bring Me a Dream/Make Him the Sweetest That I've Ever Seen"...you know the rest.
So WHAT THE HELL was that all about last night?
I do not appreciate having old boyfriends from the quite distant past coming into my dreams and proposing marriage. No, I do not appreciate it at all. What on Earth were you thinking? And why HIM?! He wasn't sweet. He was a total Jerk!
So, for the rest of you who aren't Mr. Sandman, let me tell you to whom I am referring.
About seven years ago I had a boyfriend, let's call him Joseph, who wasn't very nice to me. He didn't beat me or anything like that, but he was extremely "busy" all of the time and whenever he did have time to spend with me, everything was always on his terms. He totally took me for granted and even though I let him...that still wasn't nice of him.
Five years later (so two years ago) he came back into my life. I figured that since he already knew what I expected from him that this time he was ready to provide. I was wrong. We did an instant replay of exactly the same relationship that we had had before and it ended in exactly the same way which went something like this: He completely cut me off and I went psycho (yes, both times---I'm a slow learner). It wasn't pretty and I'm not proud.
I will never be able to explain what it was about this guy that made him so irresistable to me, but he was. Just one of those things I guess.
So, the second time around, I got over it rather quickly. I mean, I had already had to get over him once, so by now I was pretty good at it. I've rarely thought of him since. I mean, yeah, I'll use him as a reference point when talking to girlfriends about their disfunctional relationships and whatnot, but I no longer pine for him or wish things were different. I know better and as the years have gone by I've sort of been able to be happy that I didn't end up with him. It would have ended by now anyway. We were incompatible in too many ways.
But then last night my goddamn subconscious had to go and scrape the bottom of the man barrel and give Joseph a starring role in a very vivid and hopeful dream! WHAT THE F?!?!?!?! I mean seriously, is that the best I could come up with? Out of all the guys I've known in my life and all of the people in the world I have to dream that HE proposes to me!? Thanks. Thanks a heap.
There's nothing worse than waking from a dream in which you are madly in love with someone and they are madly in love with you, only to find that it's just a freakin' dream and no such thing is true or is ever going to be true.
It's shameful that even in the deep dark corners of my mind that I would still wish for such a thing. And let me tell you, I was ECSTATIC in this dream! I mean, it was like he had FINALLY realized what a gem I was and was ready to do things right this time.
Ugh. Humiliating. I probably shouldn't even be blogging about this...that's how gross it is.
So now tonight, I was lying in bed, trying to come down from Yoga Bonanza...which let me remind you all is a time when my head is clear of all of these ridiculous thoughts...and the dream started to creep back...along with the memories. The good, the bad and the ugly. I knew what was going to happen if I stayed in bed. I was going to dream about this schmuck again.
Well, I'm not having it. So, I am here pleading my case. Leave me alone. Let me rest in peace tonight. That little scar that heartbreak can leave is feeling a bit tender. Let's not rip it open again.
Not tonight.
And if you must...then "bring me a dream" that doesn't make my waking life resemble a nightmare.
Nighty Night
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Pump Up the Volume/Liar Liar Pants on Fire
When a recipe is really easy, the directions usually read:
"Just add water".
Well, I know a very simple recipe for crazy and it reads:
"Just add man".
Lately I've been feeling that unfamiliar feeling that one is only able to grasp during certain times in one's life.
That feeling is called peace.
I've been spending some quality time with friends as of late. I've been working out regularly. I've been eating well. My studies are coming along swimmingly. My trip for Europe is booked.
It's aaaaall good. All of it.
My therapist thinks that our work is done here.
I think..."Not so fast Dr. D".
All I need to derail the whole thing is a man. Yup, like a hole in the head...that's just what I need.
Cause let's face it, peace is a wonderful thing, but...isn't it kinda boring?
Wouldn't it add some color and spice to my life if I were spending all of that quality time with my girlfriends agonizing over something some guy said, or some unreturned phone call?
Wouldn't my mornings be better spent lying in bed for an extra hour (or five) imagining my future life with (literally) the man of my dreams?
Wouldn't we all have more to talk about if I spent a week crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry's and getting fat only to then cry because I can't zip up my skinny jeans?
And wouldn't it be interesting if I stopped studying and then had to cram for that test in September?
IT SURE WOULD!
I hate to bore my readers to death, but this is what happens when there's no man in my life to fuck everything up. It gets quiet.
Actually, there's a Bjork song, I'm pretty sure it's a cover, that dives into exactly what I'm talking about:
it's oh so quiet
shh
shh
it's oh so still
shh
shh
you're all alone
shh
shh
and so peaceful until
(loud horns)
you fall in love
simple
the sky up above
simple
is cavin' in
wow bang!
you've never been so nuts about a guy
you wanna laugh
you wanna cry
you cross your heart and hope to die
...til it's over
and then
shh
shh
You get the idea.
Yeah, that's me right about now.
I say...BRING ON THE NOISE!
******************************************
All of that being said...I'm lying a little bit.
A lot of bit actually.
I totally have a crush on someone.
Oh god. Why me?
Why can't it all just be easy?
Why must I pine for someone?
Why do I have to be a woman?
What can I do, but sit around and wait for this man to notice me?
Why hasn't he noticed me?
It's taken every ounce of strength not to actually jump into his lap when I see him.
If I were a man and things were reversed I'd have asked him out already and I would know if my feelings were just hanging out out here all alone or whether they were going to be reciprocated at some point.
But then again, the shear agony of not knowing is often what makes a crush so sweet. Cause, what happens when you get your answer and you don't like it?
I'm not ready for that.
If that turns out to be the truth...then Jack Nicholson said it best:
"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"
I mean...let's face it...I started my blog today with a total lie.
"Peace" my ass!
I'm freakin' dyin' ova hea.
I feel like I'm in high school.
Every time I see this person the world becomes all minty and fresh...like I just bit into a York Peppermint Patty.
I am serious!
What's a girl to do?
The other bits are true though...even though I'm walking on a cloud half the time these days...I've still got both of my feet planted firmly on the ground. (How is that possible?)
Maybe Dr. D is right and our work here is through. Maybe adding a man doesn't have to mean adding a dash o' crazy after all.
Well, there's only one way to find out...
"Just add water".
Well, I know a very simple recipe for crazy and it reads:
"Just add man".
Lately I've been feeling that unfamiliar feeling that one is only able to grasp during certain times in one's life.
That feeling is called peace.
I've been spending some quality time with friends as of late. I've been working out regularly. I've been eating well. My studies are coming along swimmingly. My trip for Europe is booked.
It's aaaaall good. All of it.
My therapist thinks that our work is done here.
I think..."Not so fast Dr. D".
All I need to derail the whole thing is a man. Yup, like a hole in the head...that's just what I need.
Cause let's face it, peace is a wonderful thing, but...isn't it kinda boring?
Wouldn't it add some color and spice to my life if I were spending all of that quality time with my girlfriends agonizing over something some guy said, or some unreturned phone call?
Wouldn't my mornings be better spent lying in bed for an extra hour (or five) imagining my future life with (literally) the man of my dreams?
Wouldn't we all have more to talk about if I spent a week crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry's and getting fat only to then cry because I can't zip up my skinny jeans?
And wouldn't it be interesting if I stopped studying and then had to cram for that test in September?
IT SURE WOULD!
I hate to bore my readers to death, but this is what happens when there's no man in my life to fuck everything up. It gets quiet.
Actually, there's a Bjork song, I'm pretty sure it's a cover, that dives into exactly what I'm talking about:
it's oh so quiet
shh
shh
it's oh so still
shh
shh
you're all alone
shh
shh
and so peaceful until
(loud horns)
you fall in love
simple
the sky up above
simple
is cavin' in
wow bang!
you've never been so nuts about a guy
you wanna laugh
you wanna cry
you cross your heart and hope to die
...til it's over
and then
shh
shh
You get the idea.
Yeah, that's me right about now.
I say...BRING ON THE NOISE!
******************************************
All of that being said...I'm lying a little bit.
A lot of bit actually.
I totally have a crush on someone.
Oh god. Why me?
Why can't it all just be easy?
Why must I pine for someone?
Why do I have to be a woman?
What can I do, but sit around and wait for this man to notice me?
Why hasn't he noticed me?
It's taken every ounce of strength not to actually jump into his lap when I see him.
If I were a man and things were reversed I'd have asked him out already and I would know if my feelings were just hanging out out here all alone or whether they were going to be reciprocated at some point.
But then again, the shear agony of not knowing is often what makes a crush so sweet. Cause, what happens when you get your answer and you don't like it?
I'm not ready for that.
If that turns out to be the truth...then Jack Nicholson said it best:
"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"
I mean...let's face it...I started my blog today with a total lie.
"Peace" my ass!
I'm freakin' dyin' ova hea.
I feel like I'm in high school.
Every time I see this person the world becomes all minty and fresh...like I just bit into a York Peppermint Patty.
I am serious!
What's a girl to do?
The other bits are true though...even though I'm walking on a cloud half the time these days...I've still got both of my feet planted firmly on the ground. (How is that possible?)
Maybe Dr. D is right and our work here is through. Maybe adding a man doesn't have to mean adding a dash o' crazy after all.
Well, there's only one way to find out...
Monday, March 15, 2010
"In Yo Face!"(book)
I stole that from a friend, but I like it, so there it is.
So, it's looking like my days on Facebook are numbered. I've enjoyed catching up with some folks who I haven't spoken to in years, and it's been nice to have easy access to other friends on a daily basis, but as of late, Facebook has become more of a problem in my life than a solution, and something's gotta give.
First was the incident several months back when my cousin DELETED me cause of something that another family member had posted on her page. Yes, that's right, I hadn't posted it, someone else had. Yet I got deleted. Um...what? Turns out she was confused about an email I had sent her and she incorrectly remembered that private email as a public comment posted for the world to see. And even though we ironed those details out, she never re-added me. We are no longer friends in real life.
Then there are the countless status updates of friends thanking other friends for the "good time" they had at so and so's party, or whatever, or pictures from a night out . Those are well and good...unless you weren't invited. In that case: OUCH!
And let's not forget Tall Dark Handsome Stranger. Would things have played out differently if I had just called the dude? Yeah, in one way or another they most certainly would have. Doesn't mean it would have resulted in a date, but now we will never know because I was too much of a chicken to call him like a normal person. And now I've deleted him. Cause I'm just as much of a jerk as the next person apparently.
How many of us have fallen victim to the "Green Light Stalk"? You know what I'm talking about...you email someone and they haven't responded yet, but you know they are online RIGHT NOW cause you can see that little green light next to their face in the chat window, so you stare at it willing them to Instant Message you and NOTHING HAPPENS! Then they SIGN OFF! It's infuriating!
Or worse yet, you aren't the stalker, but the stalkee and someone lashes out at you because you haven't IM'd them back, but that's only because YOU AREN'T EVEN SITTING AT YOUR COMPUTER! You are most likely going pee, making breakfast, or on a phone call, etc. but that's just not allowed! You MUST respond RIGHT NOW! Or else you are really gonna get it.
I for one don't like to be ignored. I understand. But our sense of entitlement to another persons comings and goings has gotten completely out of control. We are available by phone, text, chat, and twitter these days and quite frankly, I've never had worse bouts of miscommunication. Tone is completely lost because we are trying to communicate in as few words as possible and then fights ensue. It's ridiculous people!
I am guilty of every Facebook sin there is. Green light stalking, having my feelings hurt because I wasn't included in some fun thing, deleting people out of anger, being so vain that I think your status is about me (Thank you Carly Simon). It's got to stop. Not to mention the hours I spend doing NOTHING on there! I can't even tell you how I do it, cause I'm literally doing NOTHING! It's like being sucked into a JJ Abrams plot where time ceases to exist on a continuum.
So, two days ago an ex-boyfriend friend requested me. It was late. I had just gotten off work. I didn't put too much thought into it and I accepted his friend request. Well, when I woke up the next morning there was comment on my page from him thanking me and telling me he liked my blue dress. Harmelss right? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! We aren't friends in real life anymore for a reason! I don't like you! I don't want to look at your picture on my page when I sign on every day! I don't want to hear what you have to say! I most certainly don't hate this person. But...just the thought of him peering into my life on a regular basis (hello creepy!), having an opinion about the things I do and say (nobody asked you)...I don't want that anymore. If I did, we'd hang out. So, I deleted him. And of course I was the proud owner of a nasty email the next morning as a result. AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
I really don't know what to do. I like being able to keep in touch with my sister-in-law. I like that people have access to my blog. And I like knowing where my loved ones are and what they are doing...especially those who are far away. BUT, my feelings have been hurt more times that I'd like to admit. I feel stupid even saying that out loud. What am I, twelve!? And being deleted by a family member when they have about 400 strangers on their page goes beyond insulting. It's a level of "Wow, really?" that can't be measured.
I don't know how much longer I'm going to last. I might just keep a few tried and trues, but even so...I still see things that irritate me on the most beloved of my peeps pages. I'm not sure I need all of this bullshiz in my life taking up space in my brain when I should, would, could be thinking about other things.
I might just need everyone to get out of my face(book).
So, it's looking like my days on Facebook are numbered. I've enjoyed catching up with some folks who I haven't spoken to in years, and it's been nice to have easy access to other friends on a daily basis, but as of late, Facebook has become more of a problem in my life than a solution, and something's gotta give.
First was the incident several months back when my cousin DELETED me cause of something that another family member had posted on her page. Yes, that's right, I hadn't posted it, someone else had. Yet I got deleted. Um...what? Turns out she was confused about an email I had sent her and she incorrectly remembered that private email as a public comment posted for the world to see. And even though we ironed those details out, she never re-added me. We are no longer friends in real life.
Then there are the countless status updates of friends thanking other friends for the "good time" they had at so and so's party, or whatever, or pictures from a night out . Those are well and good...unless you weren't invited. In that case: OUCH!
And let's not forget Tall Dark Handsome Stranger. Would things have played out differently if I had just called the dude? Yeah, in one way or another they most certainly would have. Doesn't mean it would have resulted in a date, but now we will never know because I was too much of a chicken to call him like a normal person. And now I've deleted him. Cause I'm just as much of a jerk as the next person apparently.
How many of us have fallen victim to the "Green Light Stalk"? You know what I'm talking about...you email someone and they haven't responded yet, but you know they are online RIGHT NOW cause you can see that little green light next to their face in the chat window, so you stare at it willing them to Instant Message you and NOTHING HAPPENS! Then they SIGN OFF! It's infuriating!
Or worse yet, you aren't the stalker, but the stalkee and someone lashes out at you because you haven't IM'd them back, but that's only because YOU AREN'T EVEN SITTING AT YOUR COMPUTER! You are most likely going pee, making breakfast, or on a phone call, etc. but that's just not allowed! You MUST respond RIGHT NOW! Or else you are really gonna get it.
I for one don't like to be ignored. I understand. But our sense of entitlement to another persons comings and goings has gotten completely out of control. We are available by phone, text, chat, and twitter these days and quite frankly, I've never had worse bouts of miscommunication. Tone is completely lost because we are trying to communicate in as few words as possible and then fights ensue. It's ridiculous people!
I am guilty of every Facebook sin there is. Green light stalking, having my feelings hurt because I wasn't included in some fun thing, deleting people out of anger, being so vain that I think your status is about me (Thank you Carly Simon). It's got to stop. Not to mention the hours I spend doing NOTHING on there! I can't even tell you how I do it, cause I'm literally doing NOTHING! It's like being sucked into a JJ Abrams plot where time ceases to exist on a continuum.
So, two days ago an ex-boyfriend friend requested me. It was late. I had just gotten off work. I didn't put too much thought into it and I accepted his friend request. Well, when I woke up the next morning there was comment on my page from him thanking me and telling me he liked my blue dress. Harmelss right? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! We aren't friends in real life anymore for a reason! I don't like you! I don't want to look at your picture on my page when I sign on every day! I don't want to hear what you have to say! I most certainly don't hate this person. But...just the thought of him peering into my life on a regular basis (hello creepy!), having an opinion about the things I do and say (nobody asked you)...I don't want that anymore. If I did, we'd hang out. So, I deleted him. And of course I was the proud owner of a nasty email the next morning as a result. AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
I really don't know what to do. I like being able to keep in touch with my sister-in-law. I like that people have access to my blog. And I like knowing where my loved ones are and what they are doing...especially those who are far away. BUT, my feelings have been hurt more times that I'd like to admit. I feel stupid even saying that out loud. What am I, twelve!? And being deleted by a family member when they have about 400 strangers on their page goes beyond insulting. It's a level of "Wow, really?" that can't be measured.
I don't know how much longer I'm going to last. I might just keep a few tried and trues, but even so...I still see things that irritate me on the most beloved of my peeps pages. I'm not sure I need all of this bullshiz in my life taking up space in my brain when I should, would, could be thinking about other things.
I might just need everyone to get out of my face(book).
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
John Hancock
Aah the power of suggestion
So very tried and true
But when I said "You WILL Bring Me Flowers"
I did not mean from YOU*
They showed up on a Wednesday
In front of my whole crew
I thought they were from Mama
Cause that's what she likes to do
Now I find it most embarrassing
Though the gesture is what stands
Flowers from your Mama
Don't smell as sweet as from a man
But alas there was no card
And that's not how Mama rolls
So for three days I thought hard
This is how that story goes:
Day one: Suspecting Mama
For she loves her baby through
Day two: Suspect Ex-Lovers
But which one's most likely to?
Day three: It dawns upon some
It's Keith, it's Keith, it's Keith!
I dare say sha'nt believe it
For that is beyond belief
Could it be "Tall Dark Handsome Stranger"?
Could it be "New Crush"?
Could it be "Old Boyfriend"?
An old friend getting back in touch?
Regardless there was hoping
And debating and the like
But on day three he did come forward
And said flowers were from Mike
Now Mike is a nice guy
About the nicest you could meet
And to receive some flowers
Is undoubtedly a treat
But Mike is not the guy for me
And this I know is true
I wish him all the best
And there is nothing more to do
But I will say for those three days
Oh The Possibilities!
Next time dude, just sign the card
To save one from hope of these!
The last thing you want a girl to do
When you send her flowers
Is find out that they are from you
And cause her tear drop showers
Now you may say I am ungrateful
But I promise you, no way
I asked for flowers and I got 'em
Now what more can I say?
*This blog and this poem are meant for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to hurt "Mike's" feelings. There was just no way in hell I wasn't going to address this in my blog.
So very tried and true
But when I said "You WILL Bring Me Flowers"
I did not mean from YOU*
They showed up on a Wednesday
In front of my whole crew
I thought they were from Mama
Cause that's what she likes to do
Now I find it most embarrassing
Though the gesture is what stands
Flowers from your Mama
Don't smell as sweet as from a man
But alas there was no card
And that's not how Mama rolls
So for three days I thought hard
This is how that story goes:
Day one: Suspecting Mama
For she loves her baby through
Day two: Suspect Ex-Lovers
But which one's most likely to?
Day three: It dawns upon some
It's Keith, it's Keith, it's Keith!
I dare say sha'nt believe it
For that is beyond belief
Could it be "Tall Dark Handsome Stranger"?
Could it be "New Crush"?
Could it be "Old Boyfriend"?
An old friend getting back in touch?
Regardless there was hoping
And debating and the like
But on day three he did come forward
And said flowers were from Mike
Now Mike is a nice guy
About the nicest you could meet
And to receive some flowers
Is undoubtedly a treat
But Mike is not the guy for me
And this I know is true
I wish him all the best
And there is nothing more to do
But I will say for those three days
Oh The Possibilities!
Next time dude, just sign the card
To save one from hope of these!
The last thing you want a girl to do
When you send her flowers
Is find out that they are from you
And cause her tear drop showers
Now you may say I am ungrateful
But I promise you, no way
I asked for flowers and I got 'em
Now what more can I say?
*This blog and this poem are meant for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to hurt "Mike's" feelings. There was just no way in hell I wasn't going to address this in my blog.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Island of Lost Men
So, last week I mentioned meeting a "Tall Dark and Handsome Stranger" and I had questioned whether or not that meeting was "To be continued"...Well...I guess it's not. After said stranger gave me his card at the MOCA party I assumed that that meant he wanted me to contact him...I mean what else was I supposed to think, right? I emailed him on Facebook and said "It was nice meeting you yada yada" and he emailed back asking how the rest of the night turned out. I told him, he responded, then I responded to that...and now, you guessed it:
Crickets.
Chirping.
That was a week ago.
Over the last few days, like all women do, I've asked all of my girlfriends (and boyfriends) what the the deal is with this nutso scenario. Here is what they've had to say:
Girl 1: He probably only dates girls in their 20's.
Me: Please hold while I go kill myself.
Girl 2: He's probably gay.
Me: Um...
Guy 1: Maybe he's shy.
Me: Shyness isn't one of the topics covered in "He's Just Not That Into You" or "The Rules".
Girl 3: Burn "The Rules". That book should be banned.
Me: But I already memorized it...
Guy 2: He' probably just really busy.
Me: I'm pretty sure that's French for "He's just not that into you."
Guy 3: I think you just attract assholes.
Me: Thanks. That's nice.
I think it would be nice to know what happened between the night we met and that last email to make a guy decide that he doesn't even want to take me on one date just to see what it would be like? Why was he "into me" one minute and not the next? I find that when you don't know the answer to this question it will just nag and nag at you til you just wanna rip your hair out. Perhaps I can learn something valuable from the answer. After all, back in second grade, I was told that there are no stupid questions. And I'm not the only person that's faced with this either. I hear these stories from women over and over and over...and over...and (you get the picture).
A girlfriend of mine, let's call her Z, loves to tell me this story of an amazing date that she went on with this one guy. She really liked him and thought that they had totally hit it off...then, she didn't hear from him for a week. Sounds familiar right? Yes, cause we've all been there. But what makes this story different is that after a few more days this guy did something completely unheard of. He called Z and said to her, "Hey, I'm sorry that I sort of just disappeared. I think you are really great, and I had a great time hanging out with you, but I've decided to give things with my ex another chance." Now, this guy did not owe Z this explanation. People are free to come and go in and out of our lives as they please, but what this did for her was let her know exactly where she stood and that she hadn't made some ridiculous dating blunder. She was free to move on without ever giving the experience a second thought...except maybe this: "Wow, what a stand up guy. That was nice of him."
Yes. It was.
My thing is this, I was minding my own business the other night. I was not making eyes at this guy. I did not approach this guy. I was just living my life...and then he came up and invited himself into it...Twice. And when he gave me his card he said something like "Hey, I have a great group of friends who live out in Venice. It would be great for you to come hang out some time". Now, I don't know about you, but I read that to mean: "Hey I have a great group of friends who live out in Venice. It would be great for you to come hang out some time." Call me crazy.
Speaking of crazy...how come a person can just not respond to an email, which last time I checked is bad manners and kinda rude, but if you care enough to ask them about it you are considered psycho? Isn't that sort of a leap?
There's a great Sex and the City episode where Carrie gives her number to that alcoholic and he never calls her. The following scene unfolds like so (this is not verbatim, but from memory, so forgive me if I don't quote it exactly):
Carrie: ...and he hasn't called.
Miranda: I give him three more days and then send him to "The Island of Lost Men".
Carrie: I don't want to send him there, he was so cute. (Gasp) Maybe he thinks I'm ugly!
Miranda: Oh my god, a guy doesn't call you and now you're ugly?
And this is the exact conversation that a cricket chirping (aka-silence) situation will bring forth. Carrie knows she's a great catch so it's hard for her to imagine why this cute guy who she had a fun coffee with doesn't want to pursue something further.
And that's exactly how I feel...minus the coffee.
I know I'm not ugly and he certainly WAS cute, but I think he's about to take a little trip.
Bon Voyage!
Crickets.
Chirping.
That was a week ago.
Over the last few days, like all women do, I've asked all of my girlfriends (and boyfriends) what the the deal is with this nutso scenario. Here is what they've had to say:
Girl 1: He probably only dates girls in their 20's.
Me: Please hold while I go kill myself.
Girl 2: He's probably gay.
Me: Um...
Guy 1: Maybe he's shy.
Me: Shyness isn't one of the topics covered in "He's Just Not That Into You" or "The Rules".
Girl 3: Burn "The Rules". That book should be banned.
Me: But I already memorized it...
Guy 2: He' probably just really busy.
Me: I'm pretty sure that's French for "He's just not that into you."
Guy 3: I think you just attract assholes.
Me: Thanks. That's nice.
I think it would be nice to know what happened between the night we met and that last email to make a guy decide that he doesn't even want to take me on one date just to see what it would be like? Why was he "into me" one minute and not the next? I find that when you don't know the answer to this question it will just nag and nag at you til you just wanna rip your hair out. Perhaps I can learn something valuable from the answer. After all, back in second grade, I was told that there are no stupid questions. And I'm not the only person that's faced with this either. I hear these stories from women over and over and over...and over...and (you get the picture).
A girlfriend of mine, let's call her Z, loves to tell me this story of an amazing date that she went on with this one guy. She really liked him and thought that they had totally hit it off...then, she didn't hear from him for a week. Sounds familiar right? Yes, cause we've all been there. But what makes this story different is that after a few more days this guy did something completely unheard of. He called Z and said to her, "Hey, I'm sorry that I sort of just disappeared. I think you are really great, and I had a great time hanging out with you, but I've decided to give things with my ex another chance." Now, this guy did not owe Z this explanation. People are free to come and go in and out of our lives as they please, but what this did for her was let her know exactly where she stood and that she hadn't made some ridiculous dating blunder. She was free to move on without ever giving the experience a second thought...except maybe this: "Wow, what a stand up guy. That was nice of him."
Yes. It was.
My thing is this, I was minding my own business the other night. I was not making eyes at this guy. I did not approach this guy. I was just living my life...and then he came up and invited himself into it...Twice. And when he gave me his card he said something like "Hey, I have a great group of friends who live out in Venice. It would be great for you to come hang out some time". Now, I don't know about you, but I read that to mean: "Hey I have a great group of friends who live out in Venice. It would be great for you to come hang out some time." Call me crazy.
Speaking of crazy...how come a person can just not respond to an email, which last time I checked is bad manners and kinda rude, but if you care enough to ask them about it you are considered psycho? Isn't that sort of a leap?
There's a great Sex and the City episode where Carrie gives her number to that alcoholic and he never calls her. The following scene unfolds like so (this is not verbatim, but from memory, so forgive me if I don't quote it exactly):
Carrie: ...and he hasn't called.
Miranda: I give him three more days and then send him to "The Island of Lost Men".
Carrie: I don't want to send him there, he was so cute. (Gasp) Maybe he thinks I'm ugly!
Miranda: Oh my god, a guy doesn't call you and now you're ugly?
And this is the exact conversation that a cricket chirping (aka-silence) situation will bring forth. Carrie knows she's a great catch so it's hard for her to imagine why this cute guy who she had a fun coffee with doesn't want to pursue something further.
And that's exactly how I feel...minus the coffee.
I know I'm not ugly and he certainly WAS cute, but I think he's about to take a little trip.
Bon Voyage!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Hollywood Schmollywood
So, in an effort to "get out there" and broaden my dating horizons, I decided to join MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art) so that I could attend their annual party. Don't get me wrong, I mean, I joined for the art too, it's just that the added bonus of exposing myself to new people AND having something worthwhile to do on a Saturday night were the push that I needed to do something I've been wanting/meaning to do anyway for quite some time.
I did the right thing.
I have been bitching and moaning about how "this town", Hollywood, sucks so badly and is not a place for a single woman in her 30's for soooo long. And while it's completely valid and true...all I had to do was drive 2 miles East to solve the problem.
I stopped going out in Hollywood a few years ago when I was standing in what is now Bardot (it used to be the Spider Room) when I realized that every single person there was 10 years younger than me. It was a bad moment. Nobody ever tells you that this is what is going to happen and it is a slap in the face by a cold wet hand let me tell you.
I've dragged myself out for the odd birthday hear and there, or the odd adventure (saw an amazing DJ-Nosaj Thing-one night at some ghetto ass club in Eagle Rock), but other than that, as a personal rule...I just don't go out. There's just nothing it for me at this point. Drinking just for drinking's sake is simply not something that I enjoy anymore...I mean it was fun for about the first 15 years of my post adolescent life, but...after a while...something else needs to happen. I guess this is why people in their 30's do so much coke...I mean...at least it's "something else".
But, a few years ago I was invited to the MOCA party by a guy that I was dating and although he was the worst possible company and did everything in his power to annoy me that night...I still had a great time and I never forgot it. There's nothing quite like walking through a museum with a bunch of people who have a buzz on.
I invited my friend Meg to accompany me on my downtown adventure and I have to say...it was one of the most fun nights I've had in 10 years. Thanks Meg!
Now, due to the fact that I never go out...I do not have any "going out" clothes. This is kind of a problem. I was tempted to buy something, but since I'm about to embark on seven weeks of intense yoga training, I know my body is going to be changing drastically in a few months and I really didn't want to spend the money on something that I know I will never wear again. So, I decided..."F#$% IT!...I'll just wear jeans". I am so glad I changed my mind.
I have this one dress that I bought two xmases ago. It's Electric Blue. I wore it instead.
Two different people had recommended a restaurant downtown called "Bottega Louie" and this is where Meg and I had dinner. SUCH a good choice! The place is HUGE and there are no dividing walls. You can see everyone and everyone can see you. And we were ALL looking, plus, the place pretty much only employs hot dudes (and a few hot chicks as well--but yeah, mostly dudes), so we were immediately happy.
There is nothing more validating than walking into a room full of people and being stared at by everyone. Unless they are staring because you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe, or a booger hanging out of your nose. In Hollywood, people "steal glances" in the hopes that they don't ruin their "cool" facade and actually look interested in something or someone besides themselves, but here, it was very much what "going out" should be. People were interested in what was going on around them and weren't afraid to have a little fun with it. We were no exception.
We each had a Peach Bellini (fresh peach puree!) and we settled in to wait for our table (no reservations). We didn't wait long and the waiting was just as fun as the rest of the night because of all the people watching and flirting that was going on. We were giddy. There's no other way to describe it.
Dinner was pretty good, but if you go to this restaurant, don't bother with the Pork Chops. They were boring. But be sure to try the Portabello Fries. Yum!
After dinner it was off to the Museum. Now, I guess what's so great about these events for me is the people. You've got all different kinds of people. When you live in Hollywood, you kind of forget that there even ARE different kinds of people. There were kids, dudes with dread locks, girls in cocktail dresses (that would be us), moms, dads, hipsters, burnouts, professionals, whatever. And they all have one thing in common. They appreciate art. Not a bad building block for a social situation to have something like art in common with the person standing next to you. And certainly more refreshing than being in a room full of people who are simply desperate to be on television...even if it's just to sell tampons or Viagra.
There was one sad fellow who followed us around all night. An older gentleman who never quite got up the courage to talk to us and who's demeanor was creepy enough that we never initiated conversation with him either...even though we felt bad. Sorry creepy guy...maybe next time.
The art was what you would expect, a little bit brilliant, a little bit over our heads, a little bit unnecessary, and a lot a bit "I coulda done that"...or a dog with paint brushes attached to his feet...either way. I love that about modern art. And clearly, I'm not alone.
At one point a very Tall Dark and Handsome stranger came to enjoy one of the installations with Meg and I (now we're talkin'). I liked his approach: Confident, but not cocky, friendly, easy, and brief. Nice.
We were asked by one dude if he could take our picture. Why yes you can! And throughout the night, about every five minutes or so, someone would complement either my or Meg's dress. Double nice. (I was told by two dudes who claimed to be writers for the LA Times that I would be mentioned in the party review as "The Girl in the Electric Blue Dress"...I haven't seen anything yet, and they could have been bullshitters, but it was nice to hear either way. If I don't see anything by Sunday...I'll assume they were just really drunk).
As the night was coming to an end...or so we thought...we simply had to rest our feet. I hadn't worn heels since October.
We happened to sit next to a group of friendly folks who ended up inviting us to follow them to their next stop. Now here is one of the great things about this night...from start to finish there was never a point where Meg and I disagreed on what the next plan of action was going to be. It was the most smooth sailing I think I've ever had with another person hanging out on a night like this. There was never a time when either of us felt that the other was asking us to do something the other didn't want, or making a choice that hindered something the other person did want. We were so completely on the same page...no coercion necessary. It was nothing short of perfect...ANYHOO!...we decided that it might be fun to keep the night going since it was going so well and we decided to follow them to The Edison.
As we were leaving, the Tall Dark and Handsome stranger from earlier in the night offered me his card. To be continued?.... ;)
Our walk to The Edison had barely gotten underway before I had to take my shoes off. GROSS! But I was crippled by this point. I had been standing in stiletto's for over four hours and no matter how much I want to BE Carrie Bradshaw...alas...I am not...and the shoes came off. So, yeah, I walked downtown Los Angeles with bare feet. Feel free to judge. It was sick.
We were turned away from The Edison because of the the guys in our group was wearing a pair of Chuck Taylor's. Oh well. I get it...and I have to say, I like the idea of a strictly enforced dress code. We've become too casual as it is...I like a place with standards. Which brings us to The Standard, where they wanted us to pay twenty bucks to get in. Yeah, I don't f^@%#& think so.
So, we ended up at The Library Bar, which at this point was as good a place as any. Walking through downtown...well, walking PERIOD was super fun (don't get to do too much of that in Hollywood either), but it was time to hang our hats somewhere. We did a shot of Patron Silver (my suggestion) and settled in. It was refreshing to talk to people who weren't in the entertainment business. One of the guys was a political activist and the other two people...I don't know WHAT they did. And that just goes to show you how much fun we were having-you know-that we didn't even have to get into the whole "what do YOU do?" thing. We talked about music, the old San Francisco DJ scene, politics, and a whole bunch of other stuff...and then (drumroll please)...they offered us mushrooms (sound of record scratch). WHAT? We politely declined. I mean, I'm sorry, but last time I checked, I was wearing a cocktail dress and stiletto's...not a flannel and a pair of Dickie's...is this a camping trip or a Saturday night in the city? MUSHROOMS? Good grief people.
Shortly thereafter they told us of a party that they wanted to go to. Their friends apparently had this great place downtown with a hot tub. Well, I am a SUCKER for a hot tub. You can ask pretty much anyone...if a hot tub is in the mix. I'm not one to be a party pooper. I don't know what my deal is (maybe cause I was born in the 70's?), but I freakin' love hot tubs. Always have. Can't wait to have one of my own someday.
Well, when we got to this "party" it turned out to be just a couple sitting in their living room watching T.V. with their two dogs. Um...where's the hot tub? They lived in an apartment complex and being that they had security on duty, and we were all pretty tipsy (or trippin' on shrooms), there was no way that was gonna happen. So, we had to do "something else"...and that's when they offered us coke. We were still in LA after all...but No Thank You.
So, the night came to an end. But not before one of the girls in the group decided that my hair looked like salt water taffy or something, cause she proceeded to lick it. Um. Buh-bye now.
All in all it was a fun and interesting night. We met a lot of people. And even though this particular group was partying like it was going out of style, they were still fun, intelligent, friendly, and a nice change of pace from the norm.
So, the lesson learned is...LA doesn't suck. There are places where you don't have to be a twenty-something celebrity to be relevant.
And to be fair, I suppose it's possible that Hollywood doesn't suck either, it just depends on what you're into.
I think I'm onto something two miles East.
I did the right thing.
I have been bitching and moaning about how "this town", Hollywood, sucks so badly and is not a place for a single woman in her 30's for soooo long. And while it's completely valid and true...all I had to do was drive 2 miles East to solve the problem.
I stopped going out in Hollywood a few years ago when I was standing in what is now Bardot (it used to be the Spider Room) when I realized that every single person there was 10 years younger than me. It was a bad moment. Nobody ever tells you that this is what is going to happen and it is a slap in the face by a cold wet hand let me tell you.
I've dragged myself out for the odd birthday hear and there, or the odd adventure (saw an amazing DJ-Nosaj Thing-one night at some ghetto ass club in Eagle Rock), but other than that, as a personal rule...I just don't go out. There's just nothing it for me at this point. Drinking just for drinking's sake is simply not something that I enjoy anymore...I mean it was fun for about the first 15 years of my post adolescent life, but...after a while...something else needs to happen. I guess this is why people in their 30's do so much coke...I mean...at least it's "something else".
But, a few years ago I was invited to the MOCA party by a guy that I was dating and although he was the worst possible company and did everything in his power to annoy me that night...I still had a great time and I never forgot it. There's nothing quite like walking through a museum with a bunch of people who have a buzz on.
I invited my friend Meg to accompany me on my downtown adventure and I have to say...it was one of the most fun nights I've had in 10 years. Thanks Meg!
Now, due to the fact that I never go out...I do not have any "going out" clothes. This is kind of a problem. I was tempted to buy something, but since I'm about to embark on seven weeks of intense yoga training, I know my body is going to be changing drastically in a few months and I really didn't want to spend the money on something that I know I will never wear again. So, I decided..."F#$% IT!...I'll just wear jeans". I am so glad I changed my mind.
I have this one dress that I bought two xmases ago. It's Electric Blue. I wore it instead.
Two different people had recommended a restaurant downtown called "Bottega Louie" and this is where Meg and I had dinner. SUCH a good choice! The place is HUGE and there are no dividing walls. You can see everyone and everyone can see you. And we were ALL looking, plus, the place pretty much only employs hot dudes (and a few hot chicks as well--but yeah, mostly dudes), so we were immediately happy.
There is nothing more validating than walking into a room full of people and being stared at by everyone. Unless they are staring because you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe, or a booger hanging out of your nose. In Hollywood, people "steal glances" in the hopes that they don't ruin their "cool" facade and actually look interested in something or someone besides themselves, but here, it was very much what "going out" should be. People were interested in what was going on around them and weren't afraid to have a little fun with it. We were no exception.
We each had a Peach Bellini (fresh peach puree!) and we settled in to wait for our table (no reservations). We didn't wait long and the waiting was just as fun as the rest of the night because of all the people watching and flirting that was going on. We were giddy. There's no other way to describe it.
Dinner was pretty good, but if you go to this restaurant, don't bother with the Pork Chops. They were boring. But be sure to try the Portabello Fries. Yum!
After dinner it was off to the Museum. Now, I guess what's so great about these events for me is the people. You've got all different kinds of people. When you live in Hollywood, you kind of forget that there even ARE different kinds of people. There were kids, dudes with dread locks, girls in cocktail dresses (that would be us), moms, dads, hipsters, burnouts, professionals, whatever. And they all have one thing in common. They appreciate art. Not a bad building block for a social situation to have something like art in common with the person standing next to you. And certainly more refreshing than being in a room full of people who are simply desperate to be on television...even if it's just to sell tampons or Viagra.
There was one sad fellow who followed us around all night. An older gentleman who never quite got up the courage to talk to us and who's demeanor was creepy enough that we never initiated conversation with him either...even though we felt bad. Sorry creepy guy...maybe next time.
The art was what you would expect, a little bit brilliant, a little bit over our heads, a little bit unnecessary, and a lot a bit "I coulda done that"...or a dog with paint brushes attached to his feet...either way. I love that about modern art. And clearly, I'm not alone.
At one point a very Tall Dark and Handsome stranger came to enjoy one of the installations with Meg and I (now we're talkin'). I liked his approach: Confident, but not cocky, friendly, easy, and brief. Nice.
We were asked by one dude if he could take our picture. Why yes you can! And throughout the night, about every five minutes or so, someone would complement either my or Meg's dress. Double nice. (I was told by two dudes who claimed to be writers for the LA Times that I would be mentioned in the party review as "The Girl in the Electric Blue Dress"...I haven't seen anything yet, and they could have been bullshitters, but it was nice to hear either way. If I don't see anything by Sunday...I'll assume they were just really drunk).
As the night was coming to an end...or so we thought...we simply had to rest our feet. I hadn't worn heels since October.
We happened to sit next to a group of friendly folks who ended up inviting us to follow them to their next stop. Now here is one of the great things about this night...from start to finish there was never a point where Meg and I disagreed on what the next plan of action was going to be. It was the most smooth sailing I think I've ever had with another person hanging out on a night like this. There was never a time when either of us felt that the other was asking us to do something the other didn't want, or making a choice that hindered something the other person did want. We were so completely on the same page...no coercion necessary. It was nothing short of perfect...ANYHOO!...we decided that it might be fun to keep the night going since it was going so well and we decided to follow them to The Edison.
As we were leaving, the Tall Dark and Handsome stranger from earlier in the night offered me his card. To be continued?.... ;)
Our walk to The Edison had barely gotten underway before I had to take my shoes off. GROSS! But I was crippled by this point. I had been standing in stiletto's for over four hours and no matter how much I want to BE Carrie Bradshaw...alas...I am not...and the shoes came off. So, yeah, I walked downtown Los Angeles with bare feet. Feel free to judge. It was sick.
We were turned away from The Edison because of the the guys in our group was wearing a pair of Chuck Taylor's. Oh well. I get it...and I have to say, I like the idea of a strictly enforced dress code. We've become too casual as it is...I like a place with standards. Which brings us to The Standard, where they wanted us to pay twenty bucks to get in. Yeah, I don't f^@%#& think so.
So, we ended up at The Library Bar, which at this point was as good a place as any. Walking through downtown...well, walking PERIOD was super fun (don't get to do too much of that in Hollywood either), but it was time to hang our hats somewhere. We did a shot of Patron Silver (my suggestion) and settled in. It was refreshing to talk to people who weren't in the entertainment business. One of the guys was a political activist and the other two people...I don't know WHAT they did. And that just goes to show you how much fun we were having-you know-that we didn't even have to get into the whole "what do YOU do?" thing. We talked about music, the old San Francisco DJ scene, politics, and a whole bunch of other stuff...and then (drumroll please)...they offered us mushrooms (sound of record scratch). WHAT? We politely declined. I mean, I'm sorry, but last time I checked, I was wearing a cocktail dress and stiletto's...not a flannel and a pair of Dickie's...is this a camping trip or a Saturday night in the city? MUSHROOMS? Good grief people.
Shortly thereafter they told us of a party that they wanted to go to. Their friends apparently had this great place downtown with a hot tub. Well, I am a SUCKER for a hot tub. You can ask pretty much anyone...if a hot tub is in the mix. I'm not one to be a party pooper. I don't know what my deal is (maybe cause I was born in the 70's?), but I freakin' love hot tubs. Always have. Can't wait to have one of my own someday.
Well, when we got to this "party" it turned out to be just a couple sitting in their living room watching T.V. with their two dogs. Um...where's the hot tub? They lived in an apartment complex and being that they had security on duty, and we were all pretty tipsy (or trippin' on shrooms), there was no way that was gonna happen. So, we had to do "something else"...and that's when they offered us coke. We were still in LA after all...but No Thank You.
So, the night came to an end. But not before one of the girls in the group decided that my hair looked like salt water taffy or something, cause she proceeded to lick it. Um. Buh-bye now.
All in all it was a fun and interesting night. We met a lot of people. And even though this particular group was partying like it was going out of style, they were still fun, intelligent, friendly, and a nice change of pace from the norm.
So, the lesson learned is...LA doesn't suck. There are places where you don't have to be a twenty-something celebrity to be relevant.
And to be fair, I suppose it's possible that Hollywood doesn't suck either, it just depends on what you're into.
I think I'm onto something two miles East.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Butterfly Effect
IKEA is on my shit list.
I went to return a rug there last week and because I had opened the package I was told I could not make the return.
Um, what?
Me: How am I supposed to know what it looks like in my apartment?
IKEA Bitch: We have floor models.
Me: Is my apartment one of the floor models?
IKEA Bitch: (sound of crickets chirping)
I was also told that because I had ripped off the tags (the greatest of all mortal sins according to IKEA) that I had made the rug impossible to re-sell.
Um, what?
Because the next person who would want to purchase this rug would be really sad that THEY wouldn't get to rip the tags off?
Me: I don't understand what that has to to with anything.
IKEA Bitch: You must return the item in it's original packaging.
Me: It IS in the original packaging!
IKEA Bitch: No, you ripped the tags off.
Me: Tags and Packaging are two different things.
IKEA Bitch: Me no speaka de english.
I was then directed to the "Customer Care" line...
...where I was greeted by a very "Caring" automated message.
Me: EXCUSE ME!!!! Can someone tell me how to reach a LIVE human being?
New IKEA Bitch: Oh, I don't know.
Me: Well, I don't work here and YOU do, so find out for me. NOW!
New IKEA Bitch: Me no speaka de english.
I had to leave the store before I opened fire on hundreds of innocent victims with my imaginary "I HATE STUPID PEOPLE" Machine Gun...which along with everthing else that I own, had also been purchased at IKEA.
I have a call into Corporate as well as an email into their "Contact Us" site which is a copy of my glorious Yelp! review. I hope they enjoy.
I'm really not willing to let this go until I've spoken with the CEO personally.
That's just how I am.
You see, it's not really about their policy so much, but the terrible way in which I was treated...which was basically as though I were stinky and homeless and had dragged some ripped up old piece of nasty fabric from some dumpster somewhere.
I had my receipt. I had replaced the UNUSED and in perfect condition item back into it's "Original Packaging" just like their return policy stated I do. AND I have spent THOUSANDS of dollars at this store over the years.
It's just no way to treat a loyal and valuable customer and I need someone who ISN'T paid minimum wage to know exactly what the hell is going on down there at their stores. I'm sure someone with an IQ higher than 80 would be appalled that their customers were being treated in this manner, it's just a matter of getting one of those people on the line.
I'm not altogether sure that anyone with an IQ over 80 even works for IKEA...
On an even bigger level what is REALLY and TRULY bothering me about this whole thing is how the humanity is sucked out of every transaction between actual HUMANS these days. Anyone could see that I was an honest person who clearly shopped at that store a whole bunch (my receipt had tons of other items on it and the bill was quite high). If we had been able to just relate person to person, there wouldn't have been a problem. But, because a few ASSHOLES have to ruin it for the rest of us and take advantage of THE SYSTEM, certain RULES are then put in place and are enforced even when they don't make sense. And it's not just IKEA, it's everywhere.
Most large corporations, government machines, etc. fail to see the bigger picture. They fail to see how little things like this further separate us as human beings and create unnecessary tension and negativity in the world. Because of a stupid rule that makes no sense, three perfect strangers were thrown into a conflict...a conflict that carried negative energy from that situation into the next and into the next and into the next for the rest of the day and depending on how many people each of us were in contact with that day, THOSE people were then likely affected as well...and so on and so on and so on.
Is it really worth it? Would it make more sense just to do what EVERYONE knows is right and just let me return the stupid rug, get something else that will make me happy, save those two poor IKEA Bitches the time and energy of arguing a point that makes no sense and we can all move on with our lives?
It could be argued that I'm the only person not moving on, but it's really not like that.
I CAN see the bigger picture.
And I want to do my part to make it a prettier one.
I went to return a rug there last week and because I had opened the package I was told I could not make the return.
Um, what?
Me: How am I supposed to know what it looks like in my apartment?
IKEA Bitch: We have floor models.
Me: Is my apartment one of the floor models?
IKEA Bitch: (sound of crickets chirping)
I was also told that because I had ripped off the tags (the greatest of all mortal sins according to IKEA) that I had made the rug impossible to re-sell.
Um, what?
Because the next person who would want to purchase this rug would be really sad that THEY wouldn't get to rip the tags off?
Me: I don't understand what that has to to with anything.
IKEA Bitch: You must return the item in it's original packaging.
Me: It IS in the original packaging!
IKEA Bitch: No, you ripped the tags off.
Me: Tags and Packaging are two different things.
IKEA Bitch: Me no speaka de english.
I was then directed to the "Customer Care" line...
...where I was greeted by a very "Caring" automated message.
Me: EXCUSE ME!!!! Can someone tell me how to reach a LIVE human being?
New IKEA Bitch: Oh, I don't know.
Me: Well, I don't work here and YOU do, so find out for me. NOW!
New IKEA Bitch: Me no speaka de english.
I had to leave the store before I opened fire on hundreds of innocent victims with my imaginary "I HATE STUPID PEOPLE" Machine Gun...which along with everthing else that I own, had also been purchased at IKEA.
I have a call into Corporate as well as an email into their "Contact Us" site which is a copy of my glorious Yelp! review. I hope they enjoy.
I'm really not willing to let this go until I've spoken with the CEO personally.
That's just how I am.
You see, it's not really about their policy so much, but the terrible way in which I was treated...which was basically as though I were stinky and homeless and had dragged some ripped up old piece of nasty fabric from some dumpster somewhere.
I had my receipt. I had replaced the UNUSED and in perfect condition item back into it's "Original Packaging" just like their return policy stated I do. AND I have spent THOUSANDS of dollars at this store over the years.
It's just no way to treat a loyal and valuable customer and I need someone who ISN'T paid minimum wage to know exactly what the hell is going on down there at their stores. I'm sure someone with an IQ higher than 80 would be appalled that their customers were being treated in this manner, it's just a matter of getting one of those people on the line.
I'm not altogether sure that anyone with an IQ over 80 even works for IKEA...
On an even bigger level what is REALLY and TRULY bothering me about this whole thing is how the humanity is sucked out of every transaction between actual HUMANS these days. Anyone could see that I was an honest person who clearly shopped at that store a whole bunch (my receipt had tons of other items on it and the bill was quite high). If we had been able to just relate person to person, there wouldn't have been a problem. But, because a few ASSHOLES have to ruin it for the rest of us and take advantage of THE SYSTEM, certain RULES are then put in place and are enforced even when they don't make sense. And it's not just IKEA, it's everywhere.
Most large corporations, government machines, etc. fail to see the bigger picture. They fail to see how little things like this further separate us as human beings and create unnecessary tension and negativity in the world. Because of a stupid rule that makes no sense, three perfect strangers were thrown into a conflict...a conflict that carried negative energy from that situation into the next and into the next and into the next for the rest of the day and depending on how many people each of us were in contact with that day, THOSE people were then likely affected as well...and so on and so on and so on.
Is it really worth it? Would it make more sense just to do what EVERYONE knows is right and just let me return the stupid rug, get something else that will make me happy, save those two poor IKEA Bitches the time and energy of arguing a point that makes no sense and we can all move on with our lives?
It could be argued that I'm the only person not moving on, but it's really not like that.
I CAN see the bigger picture.
And I want to do my part to make it a prettier one.
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