The art of having fun

It's a masterpiece! I'm referring to the seahorse 'birthday plate' I made on a recent trip to color me mine. If you've never been there, you're sooooo missing out! Now my guests are going to feel so special when they come over for dinner.

Also, I'd like to make it clear that I had NO part in the creation of the coffee mug. It was solely painted by my sister Theresa. You really need to see it in person to get the full effect. It's lack of creativity and poorly executed brush strokes just don't translate as severely in photos. Shhhhhh.... don't tell her that - when she asked me what I thought, I told her it looked 'divine.' Hope she doesn't check my blog today.

who knew?

Call off the dogs, the hunt is over! I'd like to announce that I've just been on the perfect date. Who is this irresistible catch I'm boasting about? Well, to my surprise, it's none other than...me? While dining solo recently, it dawned on me that I was having a ridiculous amount of fun. I asked myself... "am I the perfect date?" I went down the checklist:

Punctuality - right on time (double points).
Restaurant selection - Exactly what I was in the mood for!
Good conversation - My internal dialogue got off to a slow start, but when the guy wearing sketchers walked in... forget about it!
Chemistry - Check.
Hotness factor - Well...when someone else comes up and hits on your date while you're on the date... always a good sign.
Did I just get straight A's? Sweet!

It should have come as no surprise as I recalled a previous conversation my mother and I had...

Mom - Physically what do you look for in a man?
Me - Tall, brown hair, smokey eyes, olive skin, a lean, muscular body...
Mom - Like...you?
Me - Exactly! I'm looking for the male version of meeeee.
Mom - You're weird.

Eureka! All my horrible dates are now making sense. How could anyone possibly follow perfection? Frankly, it's a load off. I can finally unleash the burden of all the times I said "it's not you, it's me." I wasn't lying, it was the truth! I must say, I'm almost disgusted at my self righteousness; never thinking I had a hand in the matter. How narcissistic!

Thanks for the memories...

If you're on my daily call list, you've already heard of the bum that visited me at work yesterday. One of the many perks of being located on Pico blvd is the number of mobile homed customers who frequent our business. As Sweetpeas will be relocating to Santa Monica this summer, I thought it would be fun to rank my top 5 bum experiences there.

Five - To this day, I have no idea who this bum is. In the middle of the night this THIEF broke into our store and and stole MY brand-new jar of Nutella! The evidence came back inconclusive, but as far as I'm concerned... the investigation is still open.

Number four would have to be the one arm dude that ALWAYS comes in asking for change! After realizing politeness was getting me nowhere, I had to show him I meant business by yelling "get the f**k out!" I haven't seen him since our last run in where I threatened to hurt him. I hope he is doing well :)

Number three is near and dear to my heart. After falling into numerous displays, yelling at the Heidi Swap rhinestone collection and licking one sheet of paper - he reached into his trench coat (where I assumed he had a weapon) but instead pulled out a vintage Diana Ross Record. He claimed he was her drummer until the music industry "sabotaged and pushed him out of the business." Tragic! Had he had any $$$ I would have totally given him the number to my therapist so he could sort out his looming emotional issues.

Number two -- Although they pay taxes, own real estate and have the capacity to shower at their leisure, I still consider the vast majority of men who come into my work to hit on me as bums. Especially since many of them have girlfriends/wives (that they've come in with before). How did they know nothing entices me more than a philandering man! Am I that transparent? Let it be known that my quality of customer service is temperamental.

By leaps and bounds the top spot goes to what we like to call 'the night of the bum.' While drinking champagne late into the evening, a bum broke into our back room, pulled down his pants and... well, we drunkards stumbled out the front door and screamed for help. While he held himself hostage inside our office, the bad-ass LAPD busted in and drug his broke-ass out swat style. AWESOME. I wish every night was as eventful as 'the night of the bum.'

I ain't mad at 'cha

This past year I've been trying to implement the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" mentality into my life. Recently, I was put to the test when being pulled over for a driving whoopsie. Instead of trying to talk my way out of the ticket, I accepted that I indeed was in violation and needed to embrace whatever repercussions that came my way. While being written up, I oddly felt a connection between me and the officer. I informed him that, I too had dabbled in Law Enforcement. While being 'hall monitor for the week' in the 5th grade, I took my responsibilities quite seriously as well. My motto was simple: no pass... no pardon... period! I let him know, I wasn't mad at him -- how could I expect someone to offer me a courtesy that I too was incapable of extending. Unfortunately, the officer didn't see our similarities and made it very clear he didn't give a f**k about my story. Oh, I guess that's the chance you take when you put yourself out there. Darn... thought I had made a friend.