Dating Singles Over 50

So, I’ve been receiving emails lately with the nefarious subject line of “Dating Singles Over 50” in its content.

I am always curious and somewhat paranoid about Internet cookies and tracking and such, and often wonder how exactly someone has targeted me as a specific audience for a particular product, site, contest, etc.

I do understand that my email address is likely on some Master List somewhere, and all the hounds of the universe have access to it.  Thus, I am chosen by Makin$fromHomeGuy52392 as the perfect recipient for instructions on how to eNlarG my pENiIs… however, some of these emails just go too far.

This ‘Singles Over 50’ thing really sticks in my craw (there‘s a modern and young person thing to say, Catherine).  Ditto that for emails about AARP.  Sure, I may be single, but I am not 50, nor am I interested in someone over the age of 50, and, if I were over 50, I certainly wouldn‘t be admitting to it and clicking the email.  Not for a very, very, very long time, at least.  I’m barely able to admit to being over 40.

I once tried a famous on-line ‘relationship’ site (not really a dating site, I guess?),  and among my first set of “here’s what we found for you based on 1377 points of matching criteria!” matches was a man who was somewhere well over 50, looked like a Grandpa, and had a cane.  I remember scanning the profile photo and talking to myself, because the photo was one taken at a wedding;  it included a bride, a groom, and the cane man.

“Well, it can’t be a profile for the groom-- who the hell would post his wedding picture on a dating site?  Can it be the grandpa guy?  Tell me it’s not the grandpa guy!  Oh my god, my perfect match is a grandpa!  I’m so old!!!”

The Ladies' Room, Emergency Situations, and What to Do About Them

Hmmm.  I'm starting to sound slightly obsessed about bathroom stuff, aren't I?  I know I said I would wait a week or two before posting on this.  I lied.

Sooo, the Ladies' Room.  Yah.  I have a thing about that, too.

I have told only the people very close to me (and now, I'm sharing with you.,,.don't you feel blessed?) that, I would rather run to my car and poo my pants than be forced to have an 'emergency' situation in a public (particularly a work-related) Ladies' Room.  (catchy opening, eh?)

I am gently referring to these as 'emergency' situations, because there is absolutely no reason, whatsoever, that anyone should be taking a leisurely poop in a public/work related restroom.  None.

The thing is, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that no one cares if you have an 'emergency' situation in the bathroom, it is universally untrue, and we all know it.  I'm sure that any number of you can recall whispered conversations about what the hell was going on with Mary who was in there for 20 minutes after lunchtime and left a cloud of green gases hovering in the air for much of the day after her departure.  Or the time you saw what suspiciously looked like your coworker Dan with his pants down and a newspaper and cup of coffee on the floor in his stall.  Or the time you could swear it was Carla's shoes you could see in the handicapped stall (preferred location of all 'emergency situations'... I guess people like to spread out and make it into a little vacation in there) when the toilet flushed approximately 4 times while you were in there doing specifically and emphatically non-emergency things.

Day trip...

Well, I hadn't planned on making this blog into one of those that recounts my daily activities....

For one thing, it just doesn't feel like 'me', and since I don't fully understand the whole world of blogging, I still don't get why anyone would want to read a person's blog of daily activities, even if the person is a movie star or Mother Teresa.

Second, my daily activities are not generally blog-worthy.  Nor are the activities of my son, my cat, or the neighbor's dog/horse/llama.  I highly doubt that anyone would be interested in reading of my glamorous and fun-filled days of napping, doing the laundry, doing the dishes, napping, sometimes cooking some really fantastic meals, playing WoW, and doing more laundry.

Despite the fact that I am presently making some very delicious caponata of which I nearly ate all the olives before they made it into the pan, have a glass baking dish containing white socks and an undershirt drying in the heated oven because our dryer no longer actually dries anything (Spenser asks, "Oh, is this a new recipe you're trying out?"), and my kitchen sink which was empty twenty minutes ago now contains 2 dishes, 3 glasses, and 3 utensils since my son greeted the day, I hardly consider this worth expanding upon.

I will, though, tell you of a Bad Thing I did yesterday, while taking a day trip into Brooklyn with my mother.

Exploration and Updates..?

So, a friend of mine, whose name rhymes with 'cleric,' was moaning and complaining that my blog background was hurting his eyes and preventing him from properly reading and enjoying my witticisms here (I'm exaggerating a little.  We'll call it poetic license).
I decided to do a little exploring into the world of blogs, check out other site designs, and woefully compare them to my starter situation.

One of the first blogs I came across had a photo at the top, of something that looked like a baby in a cage.  I thought that perhaps this was a blog devoted to human rights in Third World Countries or something of that nature.  I looked a little closer when I saw that the caption on the photo was not referring remotely to human rights.  I further noticed that it was not a baby in the picture, but likely an adult.  Perhaps female.  And there were some unidentifiable gadgets in the cage with/on her. 

I won't give any further mention to this guys' posts, but, honestly, what the hell is wrong with people?  I guess that my early perusals of an interminable number of blogs on bread baking and dog shenanigans didn't sufficiently prepare me for the fact that there are some strange (sick) personalities out there.

Anyway, thanks to Eric-rhymes-with-cleric, I was forced into discovering a whole new world of templates and pictures and designs that can be used.   The background and layout will likely change multiple times before I find something not only that suits me perfectly, but also one that doesn't induce headaches or seizures.

I hope to successfully add something eventually to the 'About Me' section, and attempt to make this whole experience a little more enjoyable for the reader.  Maybe I'll even add a saucy photo of my cat, Mario, who is extremely handsome and photogenic. 

I'm reeling you in, I can feel it!

On Going to the Gym, or Pretending to do so, Just for the Purpose of Tanning

So, I have a confession to make.

I am one of those bad people who enjoys and worships the sun.  I am too old and too wise and too fair to still be in this group of people, but, oh well.  It's my bed/grave, you'll have to deal with it.
When I am unable to directly worship the sun (wintertime, par exemple), and sometimes, even when I'm able, I use alternative methods, and by that I mean, tanning salons/tanning booths. 

I won't go into the spiel on how going to a tanning salon is like my private zen time, or how I can forego the use of most makeup because my skin is glowing (so what if it's because I'm irradiating unnaturally?), or how I just feel "prettier" when I've got a bit of color.
Tanning, of any sort, is very bad.
Don't do it, kids.

Anyway, I like it, however bad it is, and I try to keep it minimal.
I happen to belong to a gym in which my elite membership allows me to enjoy unlimited tanning services along with the usage of the gym equipment and facilities.
I have to admit, that the only motivation I have for actually working out, most times, is knowing that I can go tanning afterwards.  So you see, tanning may have its healthful benefits after all.  Right.

There is a problem, however, which can happen at any time, but generally is more likely to pass when the weather starts getting nice and/or when I have been completely neglecting my gym attendance for weeks/months at a time.

Scenario:

I am feeling that I need to get a little color.  I haven't been to the gym in months.  The sun is shining outside.

Now.  I could just take a long and invigorating walk in the neighborhood, thereby getting my required daily exercise AND a dose of the real sun.  The problem there is that I don't want a farmer's tan (I can't find my bag of shorts, and anyway, my legs are too white), and I don't want the possiblity of having to be social or friendly with someone in the neighborhood (which also means I'd have to look somewhat presentable and wear a small amount of makeup, so as not to frighten them). 

I could just hang around in my backyard or driveway, but the yard is directly facing the street, and there is no fence.  And, uh, no lounge chairs.  So, I'm going to look pretty moronic just standing there in the middle of the yard, doing nothing but holding my arms out and staring slack-jawed at the sun in a slight state of undress.  I suppose that I could sit in a chair and read a book, but again, keeping up appearances and all that.  A lone book-reading gal sitting on a chair in the middle of a sunny yard is a little off.  Not to mention that I would still have to do an extensive search for my bag of shorts.

Of course, I COULD just go to the gym, sign up for my faux sun session, and that's that.  I'm paying for it, what do I care, right?

Oh, wrong, wrong, wrong, my friends.

Bathrooms With Windows

Right.  So I've already admonished myself in my first post about using 'poop' references in my posts, but this is a slight variance on the subject, and has more to do with bathrooms, and the windows within.

Now, I don't know if it's just me, or if my imagination is too wild, or if I've seen too many peeping-Tom type of movies, or perhaps I have viewed too many 'interesting' things in windows whilst out walking... but... I have a thing about bathroom windows.

When I walk into the bathroom that is not my own, and I see there is a window which is inevitably right near the toilet (alas, most bathrooms are not big enough for anything to not be right near the toilet), I stare at it with a bit of shock and dismay, when I notice that there are no blinds pulled, no curtains drawn, no 'frosted' effects, or anything to ensure the privacy of bathroom goings on.  I know, that was a very long sentence.

I will look out the window, to see exactly who might be privy (heh) to my bathroom activities, whether there is anyone lurking around within a mile or two (holding binoculars, no doubt), and then further investigate whether there are shades to pull or any devices to use as a blocking mechanism.

I don't know that most women necessarily notice the potential danger of an unobscured window, since they sit down (shocking, I know) during toilet activities, and probably figure that the most that will be seen is their head.  That is, if they're thinking about it, at all. 

I generally suppose that men might likely consider it, but think nothing of it; hell, they may even be FACING said window when doing their stand up business at the toilet.   I'm guessing, though, that they don't care much, seeing as how most public Men's Rooms are a place of jolly fun and comradery with men lining up next to each other and discussing various activities whilst in their very un-private posts.

I don't understand it.  In my own bathroom, there is a window near the toilet, and there is a screen and a curtain which can be drawn.  I do actually leave the curtain and window open during the summertime, but I do go through lengths to assure that no one knows exactly what I am doing in there (if it's actual toilet business, as opposed to, say, laundry).

At night time, I sometimes will not turn on the light.
During the summertime, I will actually sometimes close the curtains AND the window, so that no one in the vicinity would know that I was purposefully closing the curtains for privacy, and then snicker to themselves when they hear the toilet flush.  (dangerously paranoid here, Catherine, you know this)
If it is daytime and I am pretty sure no one can see me anyway, I will sometimes bend down and pretend to pick something up, and then crouch over to the toilet.  Tricksy, eh?

This is all certainly ridiculous, I know, and I'm not sure where this intense need for bathroom privacy was born.  I didn't grow up in a house where it wasn't respected.  I've never been burst in upon.  I've never had a horrifying nor deadly experience in a bathroom.  Or, any other room, come to think of it.
I actually admire people who are very clear about their bathroom intentions (I'm talking about the number 2 kind), and then announce that the bathroom should be avoided after they've left.

I guess I consider the bathroom to be like a sanctuary.  It's my own private little place, and I'm doing my own private thing, and I don't want anyone else to be aware of it.  I suppose that in this world where everyone knows some of your business due to loud cell phone conversations and internet cookies and the like, I need to hold on to this one last bastion of privacy available to me.

For now, I will say, if you ever invite me to your home, there had better be curtains in there.  The kind you can actually close and not just swags that can't be undone.  And, you can rest assured that there will be multiple modes to ensure your personal privacy if you ever need to venture into mine.

Some day, perhaps next week, I will discuss the evils of public ladies' rooms, and my rules for engagement there.  Until then, close your curtains.  People with binoculars are watching.

Eeks.

So, a friend of mine (/whistle@Jo) suggested I should explore the world of blogging as a way of expressing myself whilst making potentially millions of dollars.

I am, pretty much, the n00biest n0Ob out there when it comes to blogs, and, admittedly, had to ask her for a bit of a training course as to what they were, how they worked, and why, why... why the hell would anyone read them.

I'm sure you're thinking (rather prematurely, I daresay), "well, you can forget about the 'potentially millions of dollars', sister.  This blog blows."  Well, okay.

It's funny how you think, "Well, $hit, I've got a crap-ton of things I can write about!  I can write about toilet paper, and it would be funny and intellectually stimulating, dammit!"  (Catherine, you might want to avoid a lot of "poop" references in your first post), and then you sit there, looking at the POSTS: 0 blob, taunting you in the middle of your screen, annnnnd.... hmm.  What was so great about toilet paper, anyway?

I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to arrange things here, and I'm sure you don't give a hoot about any of that, but you know, Mr. Naysayer, I've got to start somewhere, si?  So, here it is.  My first post.

No specific plans for a "theme", this is just going to be life observations and sometimes rantings from the mind of yours truly.  Now, what do I write to close this out?

"Enjoy the ride!"
 Dumb.
"Hope you like it!"
Dumb.
"Join me on my journey through life's funny little turns!"
More dumb.
"Send me a bajillion dollars so I don't have to look for a job that I don't really want to do and I'm begging you to be sufficiently intrigued so that I'm not a total failure in what merely amounts to me putting my wacko thoughts onto a virtual page!"
Hmm.

I like it.