tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125925302809511442024-02-18T21:56:41.214-05:00to be that guySo, this is my life.
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And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.comBlogger1157125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-1898669674314623172015-03-13T16:35:00.004-04:002015-03-13T16:36:31.358-04:00McNaught says...<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">"There will be a few times in your life when all your instincts will tell you to do something, something that defies logic, upsets your plans, and may seem crazy to others. When that happens, you do it. Listen to your instincts and ignore everything else. Ignore logic, ignore the odds, ignore the complications, and just go for it."</span></blockquote>
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tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-53712467878517071502013-11-30T17:55:00.000-05:002013-11-30T17:37:23.948-05:00hemingway says...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I didn't want to kiss you goodbye, that was the trouble; I wanted to kiss you goodnight. And there's a lot of difference."</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: large;">i want that every night. </span><br />
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<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-68723350706538052992013-11-03T14:15:00.000-05:002013-11-11T21:46:21.477-05:00that means he likes you, part IV<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">we all know that Daylight Saving Time is ridiculous and antiquated, but do you hate as i hate, which i do strongly, changing all of the clocks in your house and car? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">so today i'm really thankful because:</span><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>If he resets every clock in your house before you wake up, that means he likes you.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">i think that it may also mean that he loves you.</span><br />
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tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-39647667613408548242013-08-01T20:08:00.000-04:002013-08-01T21:03:37.465-04:00the perks of being a 30-something<span style="font-size: large;">tonight i watched "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" for the first time off the big screen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">i'm a huge fan of this film, just as i have long been a huge fan, and a frequent re-reader, of the novel. the filmmakers have done an amazing job of whittling the story down to the joy and the pain -- not that there's much else in the novel. the film brilliantly captures the spirit of the story that i've read repeatedly. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1AEfdAoss-KxD0BKl3cqpHV1Z7qXfJ1NVgmhj59vIYV_pZvQjx37b4qWope7MOfG9Nr3qcsFMeOw3lTr7_88MYupFmZhrat7f-64PGRFU9DXWV5JjqJHAs3_s1x3bq-6wrB3psMOfU0/s1600/The-Perks-of-Being-a-Wallflower-Screen-Captures-Trailer-logan-lerman-31037796-1280-720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1AEfdAoss-KxD0BKl3cqpHV1Z7qXfJ1NVgmhj59vIYV_pZvQjx37b4qWope7MOfG9Nr3qcsFMeOw3lTr7_88MYupFmZhrat7f-64PGRFU9DXWV5JjqJHAs3_s1x3bq-6wrB3psMOfU0/s640/The-Perks-of-Being-a-Wallflower-Screen-Captures-Trailer-logan-lerman-31037796-1280-720.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">every time i experience this story, i re-live my troubled high school days. the characters and their angst are so familiar that i can't help but reconsider my experiences as a teenager. i don't discuss my experiences with friends, nor do i care to do. i rarely think about that period in my life, except when i read or watch an account of someone else's comparable experience. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">high school is so far behind me; i recently turned 31. maybe it's silly for a high school story to still resonate with the adult me, but it does. i can't help but wonder, as i consider my outlook during past stages of my life, about my outlook toward the future.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">it's easy to look back at high school and college and recognize the importance that we placed on what now seem like insignificant accomplishments and standards. in retrospect, my SAT score and my GPA, while impressive and personally gratifying at the time, have neither come up, nor been effectual in the past decade of my life. as my romantic life has peaked and collapsed; as i have reimagined and realigned my career path, those priorities of my teens and even my college years have failed to prove important in the long term. at 18, i never would have guessed that i would be, at 31, where i am. i never would have imagined my priorities as a 30-somethimg to be what they are. but could i have imagined a 30-something's priorities at all? how could i have guessed?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">tonight, as i finish a glass of sauvignon blanc and finish "The Perks" before heading to bed, i can't help but wonder if my current priorities and goals might be red herrings on my path to a happy adulthood. can i possibly guess my priorities and regrets as a true adult? (by the way, i firmly believe that 30 is the new 20. and "adult" remains aloof.) will i look back, as a 51 year-old, and smirk at the priorities of my 31 year-old self? will the obsessions of thirty-something-hood -- be they losing 20 lbs, making the best impression at work, winning an argument with a roommate, limiting my vodka consumption to three nights a week, or finding the absolutely perfect engagement ring -- in retrospect seem trivial? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">priorities change. life is constant evolution.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">this, i think, is why we should re-read books. as our perspective changes, so do the stories. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">also, don't judge me for watching the movie on this one. i have re-read it. and you can't really read while drinking a bottle of wine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Even if you didn't know what I was talking about or know someone who's gone through it, you made me not feel alone. Because I know there are people who say all these things don't happen. And there are people who forget what it's like to be 16 when they turn 17. I know these will all be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs. We'll all become somebody's mom or dad. But right now these moments are not stories. This is happening.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fbfbfb; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; line-height: 18px;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">* * * </span></div>
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<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-24229501780438565902012-11-29T22:10:00.000-05:002012-11-29T23:00:59.617-05:00a lot to do<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">when i die an old, married man, i hope that people say of me, "He was kind."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">i hope that i die wealthy, but not so wealthy that i've stopped voting Democrat.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">i hope that someone says of me that he or she never saw me lose my temper, not even at work.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">i hope that i am remembered in many funny stories. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">i hope that my body will ultimately have a few tattoos or scars (<i>preferably tattoos, but i still await an image or verse worth permanently markering</i>). </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">i hope that i've married the love of my life, and that we don't die too far apart, for fear of one of us grieving for too long.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">between now and far-off then, i have a lot to do. </span><br />
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tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-35519510624414073882012-11-27T09:09:00.000-05:002012-11-27T09:34:39.572-05:00post(ing) secret(s)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPprKGrRpaU-RiUSMg21-q_PICo_vKwOBxyaC9kouzZ9Ijdilq4itiWqj97zCGfgVAKDCbWcBhyphenhyphenVgItnDxnqbeRayB_6rynxFblRJsVwmnDdXuh5RUuKTw_3oJqYf73dB1eeWpLfWNEEo/s1600/30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPprKGrRpaU-RiUSMg21-q_PICo_vKwOBxyaC9kouzZ9Ijdilq4itiWqj97zCGfgVAKDCbWcBhyphenhyphenVgItnDxnqbeRayB_6rynxFblRJsVwmnDdXuh5RUuKTw_3oJqYf73dB1eeWpLfWNEEo/s640/30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-71415287906003274342012-11-01T12:12:00.000-04:002012-11-02T12:27:03.006-04:00post(ing) secret(s)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgSVLN8qsdpCs-S8ewhVZtPKvzuUH70w7d4YKIpNoeNvEfYQDV3RA1kDvXPCce7mz4sVoHMIjeOKTTYopfxKZZ17ugRkJfAb9SuZcs-ujD3NAo1tDV7a6tMJSbQGYeGaT0x1ysEyQ2cY/s1600/flower2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgSVLN8qsdpCs-S8ewhVZtPKvzuUH70w7d4YKIpNoeNvEfYQDV3RA1kDvXPCce7mz4sVoHMIjeOKTTYopfxKZZ17ugRkJfAb9SuZcs-ujD3NAo1tDV7a6tMJSbQGYeGaT0x1ysEyQ2cY/s640/flower2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-86968097812449694272012-10-15T18:06:00.000-04:002012-10-15T18:45:13.069-04:00had been love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFuYxBzeYbSU6Pg7wxDA0TwhIMi-aPnwSYcDMFP4neiIXmFx6nsI5MyeB0ri0US9Sh4G9F0yf318ij592bZezCikYAulseqXDHoa8VExqJYT1tzO4OF5MQ9NKsmBrDQl_22JvJtwJZ0do/s1600/tumblr_lzp10wqQw21qbw4dpo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFuYxBzeYbSU6Pg7wxDA0TwhIMi-aPnwSYcDMFP4neiIXmFx6nsI5MyeB0ri0US9Sh4G9F0yf318ij592bZezCikYAulseqXDHoa8VExqJYT1tzO4OF5MQ9NKsmBrDQl_22JvJtwJZ0do/s640/tumblr_lzp10wqQw21qbw4dpo1_500.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-18604324109584142172012-08-16T16:04:00.000-04:002012-08-16T16:30:01.040-04:00in summary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_3fWDfvIQMqz4VqnkTtUmN1OXmFofy7DhjWgUJsIZoDIsorlY2Pfk5wI7xLPlP5WbF985cwi-DMztMWHeeqay2j7eRAG5h1ci0oAxXC5PzCv8EmKeAw6LF-zVRZ5AZdJszomny_BIf8/s1600/likesodeep.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_3fWDfvIQMqz4VqnkTtUmN1OXmFofy7DhjWgUJsIZoDIsorlY2Pfk5wI7xLPlP5WbF985cwi-DMztMWHeeqay2j7eRAG5h1ci0oAxXC5PzCv8EmKeAw6LF-zVRZ5AZdJszomny_BIf8/s640/likesodeep.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">yep, i think that just about sums up my blog during its first 6 years. </span></div>
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tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-45879905718163765162012-08-07T11:11:00.000-04:002012-08-07T11:36:25.077-04:00what do they expect?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">when a recipe requires 1/4 cup of white wine...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDi-T-FpT6-FmlA60Ryt6YMdX3NgjEHaEXOjvThsaRzaz2B1oNX3wRikw1RkmAebKyqgHV0JC5Ae8R5zJok1RyncgvtvTvqCdHCtwf0hf4X9_ToYyBpodOOeUt4GZ1-TLf-b7XNozYcnc/s1600/a+dash+of+drunk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDi-T-FpT6-FmlA60Ryt6YMdX3NgjEHaEXOjvThsaRzaz2B1oNX3wRikw1RkmAebKyqgHV0JC5Ae8R5zJok1RyncgvtvTvqCdHCtwf0hf4X9_ToYyBpodOOeUt4GZ1-TLf-b7XNozYcnc/s400/a+dash+of+drunk.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">there's only one thing to do with the rest of the (<i>largest</i>) bottle (<i>i could find at the wine shop</i>).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">this morning i have a headache, but the baked pasta with zucchini and corn was fantastic. BIG UPS to Cassifrass for bringing me delicious, farm-fresh sweet corn from our motherland.</span><br />
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<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-83177850300467491752012-07-22T16:04:00.000-04:002012-07-22T15:57:02.714-04:00"subconscious." by Calvin Klein<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i try not to give away too many of my dating secrets, but last night i shared one of my tricks with some friends, and they liked the idea. i figured i should share it with all y'all and ask if you think it's crazy or creepy. you're always so great about commenting and e-mailing me with honest reactions to my confessions.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i don't think that what i'm about to tell you is creepy -- if i did, i wouldn't be sharing it with the blogosphere -- but i admit that it's somewhat manipulative. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">we all know that our memories are closely linked to our senses of smell. for years, i've tried to harness that link to subtly manipulate the guys i like. when i'm getting to know someone new, someone i really like, i make sure to always wear the same cologne around him. this might seem like a no-brainer to you if you have one cologne or perfume and wear nothing else; however, if you're like me and have a collection of scents, you can try this tactic. i think that people will subconsciously associate a familiar scent with good times, such as when a romance is blossoming. to be able to remind someone of your first kiss or your first night together, even a year later, could be very powerful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">an aside about scents: i have about 7 or 8 colognes in rotation. while that may be excessive (<i>shopping for fragrances is something that i really enjoy</i>), everyone should have<b> at least two</b>, because a scent that's great in the winter isn't necessarily great in the summer. for example, i wear a heavy, strong Versace cologne in cold months but would never wear it on a hot summer day, when perspiration can make a strong fragrance overpowering and unpleasant. for summer months, Clinique and Nautica are my go-to's. this is important stuff, people.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">by way of illustration, i'll tell you about my courtship of my ex, A, several years ago. our relationship began as a friendship, mostly because i didn't know he liked boys, but the first night that we kissed i was wearing Dolce & Gabbana. it was a great night. fun and memorable. after that, i made sure to wear the same scent every time we went on a date. despite finding other great colognes and wearing them around him socially, i never failed to wear D&G when we had one-on-one dates. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">does this seem crazy? it makes so much sense to me, i'm almost religious about it. recently, the effectiveness of this tactic was confirmed. the first night that i knew i'd be sleeping over at the Doctor's house, i wore a great TokyoMilk scent that i've loved for years but rarely wear in public because it's a fairly feminine scent. the first time that he slept at my apartment, i spritzed myself with the fragrance before bed. last week when the now long-distance Doctor visited me at home, he told me he always loved my smell. little does he know, i orchestrated that. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">another ex once told that me i always smelled like fabric softener. i did, but only around him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it's not my goal to have a distinct scent for every partner in my life. in fact, it's not my goal to have more than one boyf. my goal is to meet my future husband and, some day down the line -- five or ten years from now -- still be wearing a scent that will remind him of when we first met, when we were young and new in one another's life. i just hope YSL never stops making my favorite cologne. that's a potential risk with this trick.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so what do you think? am i insane? manipulative? do i just have too much time on my hands, making me mindful of these things?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">oh, by the way, don't tell anyone. i don't want the men of Maryland catching on to my wiles. our little secret.</span><br />
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-49035970782726341252012-07-22T15:03:00.000-04:002012-07-22T15:15:00.160-04:00post(ing) secret(s)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5B_MV4HaPLox6MdTej5VkhEAUFaIw3uJ9Xhvkx7kLkIhq6o-wGqOT_sQf5y-qxS9LstrgNJ_hT4sIkYpbNq9VizI2M6XLloAJNyvoN7WadW6OC38n1ovueuE3SJ8NvI86qY-J22Ob_M/s1600/totalimersion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5B_MV4HaPLox6MdTej5VkhEAUFaIw3uJ9Xhvkx7kLkIhq6o-wGqOT_sQf5y-qxS9LstrgNJ_hT4sIkYpbNq9VizI2M6XLloAJNyvoN7WadW6OC38n1ovueuE3SJ8NvI86qY-J22Ob_M/s640/totalimersion.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it was the cool thing to do among my high school friends. i hope some of them have gotten over it by now. wherever they may be.</span><br />
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-46458188427987902112012-07-14T17:05:00.000-04:002013-11-03T15:36:08.476-05:00the next ironic chef<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i haven't been posting often on here, as i haven't had many new adventures as of late. my dating life isn't very exciting, and aside from bidding adieu to a certain person who i'm sure you're all sick of hearing about, my social life is equally uneventful. work is enjoyable but keeps me busy and running all over the place. the Jetta is my third home now. the second is this filthy little dive bar where my girl Faye and i can sit for hours, drinking pitchers of cheap beer and listening to random tunes on the jukebox. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">today i'm writing because i actually have a new adventure to tell you about.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">tomorrow i'm teaching a cooking class.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i know, right? how ridic. aside from a few adventures<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2010/02/semi-hard-morning.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">like this one</span></a> </span>and <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2010/02/q-what-could-be-better-than-cheesy.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">this one</span></a> in my Philadelphia kitchen while on "sabbatical" in the past, i don't cook. all my friends know that i don't cook. that's why i gravitate toward people who do -- so that they can cook for me. i know my way around a bar and can create magic with a cocktail shaker, but kitchen appliances are foreign territory to me. so why am i now sitting at my kitchen island, surrounded by bags and bags of produce, psyching myself up to learn some cooking techniques to share with strangers in the morning?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">if this story were to impart a moral, it would likely be this: beware your own over-confidence. when my boss came to me to complain that the two chefs who teach weekly cooking classes for my company are both unavailable for an upcoming event, i shouldn't have said a word. instead, my arrogance spoke up: "It can't be that hard. You should teach it." </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I can't teach the class," he responded. "Could <i>you</i> teach a class about growing and cooking tomatoes?" he asked incredulously.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"I could teach anything if I had the information."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and with that, i unwittingly volunteered to teach a class about growing a food that i have never grown, making sauce that i have never made, and creating culinary masterpieces that i have no desire to create, using techniques that are foreign to me. all of which is happening tomorrow morning.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">sure, i tried to find someone else to teach the class. i asked everyone i knew who has ever eaten a tomato if they'd like to teach the class. i tried to get out of it without appearing insecure or as though i'm not a team player. my efforts failed, so ultimately i embraced the upcoming adventure. i view it as a role and myself as an actor. i will be lie-telling all morning about my gardening experience (<i>i have a phone date with my mom scheduled for this evening so that she can tell me all about gardening and growing tomatoes</i>), and i will -- as they say -- fake it 'til i make it. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i have just returned from a trip to Whole Foods, where i spent $50 on tomatoes and walked around like a lost puppy, looking for chives and leeks. in fact, i was just about to ask a hipster employee, "What does a leek look like?" when i remembered the blue yarn leek soup scene in Bridget Jones' Diary and thankfully recalled the look of her raw leeks before i had to embarrass myself with that alliteration.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the oven is pre-heating for some serious veggie roasting that's about to go down, and i'm mentally embracing my upcoming starring role as Chef Matthew. at this point, i'm even a bit excited for the challenge.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">as i see it, i have a few things that will work in my favor tomorrow:</span></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">1. my aforementioned over-confidence and arrogance. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2. teaching isn't difficult. some of the dumbest people i knew in high school and college are now teachers. i've been on dates with teachers who can barely speak or type English. no offense to any of you dummies who teach dumb children, but it doesn't take a genius to process information and regurgitate it to other, less informed people.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3. the class attendees are mostly middle-aged women, and for whatever reason, middle-aged women tend to find me very charming. once a woman hits her 50's, i'm suddenly her type. just a few weeks ago, i had a 70-year old woman basically hit on me, saying, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I love you in those glasses. My husband wore horn rimmed glasses, and it still gives me a little tingle to see a man in them." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">true story. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i felt uncomfortable thinking about her tingle. i often wish that 30-year old men would react to me the way that old women do.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">4. my experience with ambiguity. i've been in this position before. as a teenage camp counselor, i was expected to teach children to drive canoes on top of water. i had never been in a canoe, and i don't particularly like water. i'm an awful swimmer, and stagnant lake water makes my skin crawl and itch. even the ocean seems filthy, and i don't like to be in it. anyway, i taught canoeing for several summers, and i still maintain that no child died due to any fault or negligence of mine. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">5. i now have a working oven. this final point may seem random, but as of late my oven has not been functional. you see, late one night in the near past, <i>someone</i> came home from a bar where <i>someone</i> had too many wodka drinks and tried to re-heat some very cheesy pizza in my oven. here's the abridged version of the story: cheese all over oven floor, oven not cleaned, roommate of said person tried to use oven a few days afterward, actual fire started in oven, fire extinguisher grabbed but instructions were so complicated it was not used, flames and smoke, yada yada yada, oven had to be cleaned well by me this morning to prepare for roasting i'll be doing this evening. roommate is still displeased with me for what i did to the oven. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so here goes. i just made myself a cocktail, and i'm pulling out my borrowed mandoline and other mysterious kitchen tools to begin prepping for tomorrow's class. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAtT4HQ71exXWR8IKC8JlHEEtN0BS1iipGmV5DCwCeoAWnYn_hDoo8QBN4LvOylnWc2F_lFEPSijw4LALjGa0HVqcs4NFeYHX7yidU-7n7z-r4uPYdxc4kQtM8-3OlQ970NQxbCsO3Lo/s1600/roasted+tomato+soup+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAtT4HQ71exXWR8IKC8JlHEEtN0BS1iipGmV5DCwCeoAWnYn_hDoo8QBN4LvOylnWc2F_lFEPSijw4LALjGa0HVqcs4NFeYHX7yidU-7n7z-r4uPYdxc4kQtM8-3OlQ970NQxbCsO3Lo/s400/roasted+tomato+soup+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i have a fun night of roasting ahead of me. wish me luck! </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlFWBmrFxnID8WDEXvx5PS1hjclBEtof7XYEThrj0OnIkxs-3BQ4Id9K-x0lz-bm8QPsTcQSQOoV5Nr2cXouccA1nCGvUirfx-xAdJ1PQomLoen8Cz9zZq6KhxH4SFY3W7t770ekmeVM/s1600/roasted+tomato+soup.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlFWBmrFxnID8WDEXvx5PS1hjclBEtof7XYEThrj0OnIkxs-3BQ4Id9K-x0lz-bm8QPsTcQSQOoV5Nr2cXouccA1nCGvUirfx-xAdJ1PQomLoen8Cz9zZq6KhxH4SFY3W7t770ekmeVM/s400/roasted+tomato+soup.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i'll let you know how well the class goes. i have no doubt that it will be a great success because, well, see bullet point no. 1, above.</span><br />
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<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-45443888768883205002012-06-28T18:06:00.000-04:002012-06-28T18:59:27.856-04:00always on the road<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Once you realize that the road is the goal and that you are always on the road, not to reach a goal, but to enjoy its beauty and its wisdom, life ceases to be a task and becomes natural and simple, in itself an ecstasy.</span></blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />- Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-60499509982987850932012-06-14T18:06:00.000-04:002012-06-14T18:19:46.039-04:00what you missed<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">this has never been my favorite thing to do, posting an informative catch-up post after not blogging for a considerable amount of time. unfortunately, it's the best way to get back in the saddle after time away from you.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the reason that this isn't my favorite thing is because not much has been happening anyway. i don't really have much to share. there, that's my disclaimer. you can stop reading now, because there will be nothing interesting below. regardless...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the short version is, i've been staying very busy with work and the gym and shopping and dating, and i love Girls, and life is generally very good.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the long version is, work is sometimes frustrating and stressful, but i never dread going there. i try to have fun and try to ensure that my co-workers have fun, every single day. not to sound arrogant or anything, but if i were to leave my job, about 80% of the people there would either quit or kill themselves or both, in that order. i'm confident about the percentage because they've all told me so. <i>wherever you stand, be the soul of the place.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i still think one or two visits to the gym per week is sufficient, though i've been visiting mine more often as of late because that's where the tanning booth that i pay to use is located. i know that tanning is bad, but it's important for pasty pale people like me this time of year, even if it means going to that awful place called the gym. oftentimes i cannot fathom even getting out of my car to walk into the gym after a long day at work; however, i convince myself to stop in and even work out for about 20 minutes just so that i can tan. only once could i not bring myself to work out, or even put on workout clothes, so i scanned in at the gym, tanned, and left. my entire drive home, i was certain that every single man in the gym stopped what he was doing, set down the weights, and watched me walk out without doing any sort of workout. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i would like to add that, in a continuing effort to look 25 forever, i make sure to apply SPF 30 to my face and neck before tanning. this has not yet resulted in any awful clavicle tan lines. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">shopping -- well, in the past year or so (<i>read: ever since quitting the law firm job that paid for my addiction</i>) i've developed a great deal of self-restraint while in malls. my few remaining weaknesses are J. Crew, Banana and Yankee Candle Company. i am powerless against sales on seasonally appropriate chinos and candle scents that might make my house smell as though it's clean. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">finally, an update on my dating life... i sometimes feel that i write about dating too often on this blog. as if that's all i care about, or as if it's the only thing going on in my life. well, it's not. sometimes i rent movies and watch them alone. also, until i recently began a month-long alcohol detox at which i am currently failing, i liked to drink with friends often. having said all that, most of my time spent socializing with other humans outside of work involves dating. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">to catch you up, i've been hanging out with Brad for just over a month now. i haven't previously told you anything about him, because it's not exciting in any way. occasionally Brad provides me with a funny story to tell friends and coworkers (<i>such as when he was upset with me for using "drugs," but only until he Googled Ambien to find out what horrible illegal high i was enjoying</i>) or a fun time together at a bar or, in the case of this past Sunday Funday, at a casino. Brad is a great guy, and i'm trying diligently not to lead him on. is there any harm in casually dating someone while keeping an eye out for Mr. Right? i tell myself that there is not. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">that's pretty much it for my dating life. oh,alsoiguessishouldmentionthati'veseenthedoctortwicethisweekinorderto"saygoodbye"beforehemovesfar,faraway. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">finally, i love Girls. since Cassifrass gave me her HBO GO log-in, i've been watching a ton of my old fave, <b>Curb Your Enthusiasm</b>, catching up on the nudity of <b>True Blood</b> before it came back, and thoroughly enjoying the new series <b>Girls</b>. it's often laugh-out-loud funny but, within the same episode, can be so raw and self-reflection-inducing that a weaker man might be tempted to cry. if you haven't yet seen it, i highly recommend it. </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/U3y0TH4MLxg?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and that's what you missed on -- ME!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-143097537420343822012-06-08T10:10:00.000-04:002012-06-08T11:04:32.494-04:00post(ing) secret(s)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRuIXbc6_smk70w86VfpyfHy53NFy8bgydk_IeIvn7PnnWcCmfSyWDjTx7gt8zF7TOoChrDf88uwS1SYcmoeccnBvH5WtHm7tMUpFzFp0G2wTpbj2L0ba3hnoyBcNvO6CPUN6V6xuTgI/s1600/PetSecret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBRuIXbc6_smk70w86VfpyfHy53NFy8bgydk_IeIvn7PnnWcCmfSyWDjTx7gt8zF7TOoChrDf88uwS1SYcmoeccnBvH5WtHm7tMUpFzFp0G2wTpbj2L0ba3hnoyBcNvO6CPUN6V6xuTgI/s640/PetSecret.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">you, too?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">for me it began in childhood, as a defense against monsters and bigfoot. yeah, bigfoot. so what? wanna fight about it? i was terrified by the movie Harry and the Hendersons. gave me nightmares. plus, our house was surrounded by forest. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">two decades later, my under-cover sleeping habit is more about comfort/noise than self-defense. even in uncomfortably warm weather, i have to be under the sheets. </span><br />
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<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-55925504308384633362012-05-22T21:09:00.000-04:002012-05-22T21:31:41.010-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNv0Dj-SWhNbMxpUlFoJdiLIcXOJEtEukGhJPTANlP4LsjY8GYaHFqMPLwX4s6wUNIdZ5zl7NdC5-bNv060v_ioWC64gM3RDFhvdZYIhhdDzI17663nSkcoAAYkKPvasoQjK0g0i6-u4c/s1600/old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNv0Dj-SWhNbMxpUlFoJdiLIcXOJEtEukGhJPTANlP4LsjY8GYaHFqMPLwX4s6wUNIdZ5zl7NdC5-bNv060v_ioWC64gM3RDFhvdZYIhhdDzI17663nSkcoAAYkKPvasoQjK0g0i6-u4c/s640/old.jpg" width="492" /></a></div>
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-16682209259521454402012-05-22T20:08:00.000-04:002012-07-14T17:27:17.268-04:00tolle says...<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You are the universe, expressing itself as a human for a little while.</span></blockquote>
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</div>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-49173197435201414602012-05-14T11:11:00.000-04:002012-05-14T11:11:00.526-04:00post(ing) secret(s)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zG2GJJDdGbwwt5buLvzdYTjNh26L6_ygPz26ccnM6AoLyOCTI2mbyckJe4e_JCkInU-ejW0tcWqRxyXlB5zXEosSEzxXEganJbNKGRh8MTVfXxEDoN6WOl2H8Lz_D32doYYLWx0swpY/s1600/queenofhearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zG2GJJDdGbwwt5buLvzdYTjNh26L6_ygPz26ccnM6AoLyOCTI2mbyckJe4e_JCkInU-ejW0tcWqRxyXlB5zXEosSEzxXEganJbNKGRh8MTVfXxEDoN6WOl2H8Lz_D32doYYLWx0swpY/s640/queenofhearts.jpg" width="410" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">for you.</span>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-54498703812285114462012-05-05T14:22:00.000-04:002012-05-05T14:58:31.318-04:00we're bad people, part XIX<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">for years, i've been using this blog as a sort of confessional, where rather than a priest sitting on the other side of a screen, i've trusted that you non-judgmental blog readers were withholding judgment while sitting in front of your own screens. for example, i've confessed awful, awful secrets about my <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2008/05/father-forgive-me.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">musical preferences</span></a>. over the years i've confessed many strategic secrets about <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2010/04/every-now-and-then-in-life-of-single.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">my dating life</span></a>. today i have to confess a truly heinous secret. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">by now, you know a lot about the doctor. we're <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2012/03/hunger-date.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">no longer dating</span></a>, but we are developing a very nice friendship while he remains in the country. what i may have failed to mention to many of you is that the doctor is Muslim and has never imbibed a drop of alcohol in his life. believe it or not, i didn't have much of a problem with this while we were dating (<i>i know, right? this would usually be a deal-breaker, but when you fall for someone...</i>). he's a fantastic designated driver, and he was always able to dance and have fun with nothing more in his system than a Redbull. i've always found that impressive, since i need at least 9 oz. of vodka in my body to even look toward a dance floor. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">last night, D and i decided that we weren't impressed. for whatever reason, after a few drinks, we decided that it was time for the doctor to experience alcohol. we were determined to make this happen. when he arrived at our apartment to "pre-game" before going out, i offered him a cocktail. no dice. D, our buddy Mike and I had lots of wodka while the doctor drank water. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">when we arrived at the bar, i once again offered to get the doctor a drink. no dice. he said he'd have his usual, a Redbull. it was at this point that D lost her patience. she went to the bar, ordered drinks for me, Mike and herself, and then asked the bartender if she'd pour some vodka into a Redbull can. the bartender, who has had a crush on D for a while, was happy to oblige. events like this are just one of the reasons that D is my BFF and the love of my young life.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i'd like to take a moment to again ask you to please withhold judgment. if you believe in Allah, that's fine. mazel tov. i'm sure he loves you with a firm hand and makes every day special for you. personally, i believe in a loving god who wants us to enjoy all of the fruits of the earth, including wine, which the prophet Jesus drank, presumably in excess. i don't like to drink wine, because my teeth are very white and i want to keep them that way; therefore, clear and pure vodka is my drink of choice. my point is, i don't think the doctor will burn in hellfire for drinking alcohol unwittingly. i'm sure he'll still receive a dozen young virgins at heaven's gates, as promised in the Quran. too bad he won't want to touch any of them. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">back to my story: i can't believe that the bartender did it, but three times throughout the night she poured out half the can of Redbull and filled it with vodka, after which she swirled it to mix the caffeine and sin, and then inserted a straw for the doctor. and he never even noticed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">by the end of the second Redbull, he was dancing energetically. i laughed uncontrollably as we danced. by the end of the third, the doctor was having a heartfelt conversation with D about life and dating. somehow he never noticed that, for the first time in his life, he was drinking alcohol. i guess if you have no frame of reference.... </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">this morning i texted the doctor to make sure that he was alive and not in prison. he's fine. a bit of a headache, and he has no idea why, but he's fine. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">like i said, we're bad people. too bad i'm incapable of feeling what you people call "guilt." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it was a fun night. allegedly, we had hot dogs in the wee hours of the morning. and i feel better after confessing this evil deed. the end. </span><br />
<br />
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-76145254581428878692012-04-17T08:08:00.000-04:002012-04-17T08:59:14.682-04:00post(ing) secret(s)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">i like to think i'm a fairly sane and well-grounded, but i share this person's ridiculous fear. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXAokyBu1hl3yz_CaDiKd9EF2WeXtTdpH5O72koO6UO-noEwnYlH4g-fdBTKXTHrKyaKHoUkRatr4RFWvA2Ek93Ub9h7yUSmn8KiGZZ3fOj2P8Nbfog3a1AoPufcoQ6rHebK7FoRakeA/s1600/tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXAokyBu1hl3yz_CaDiKd9EF2WeXtTdpH5O72koO6UO-noEwnYlH4g-fdBTKXTHrKyaKHoUkRatr4RFWvA2Ek93Ub9h7yUSmn8KiGZZ3fOj2P8Nbfog3a1AoPufcoQ6rHebK7FoRakeA/s640/tub.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">otherwise i'm afraid of nothing. well -- snakes are scary. so are horses. and i'm afraid of contracting rabies, but only after seeing that awful film, I Am Legend.</span> <br />
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-72464694870199490172012-04-12T16:04:00.002-04:002012-04-12T16:15:31.379-04:00day says...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“I like joy. I want to be joyous... I want to smile and I want to make people laugh. And that’s all I want. I like it. I like being happy. I want to make others happy.”</span></blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />me too, Doris.</span><br />
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</div>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-56611245166274771922012-04-10T08:08:00.001-04:002012-04-17T10:06:05.150-04:00IF<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size: large;"><br /></span></blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you can keep your head when all about you<br />Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,<br />If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you<br />But make allowance for their doubting too,<br />If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,<br />Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,<br />Or being hated, don't give way to hating,<br />And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,<br />If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;<br />If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster<br />And treat those two impostors just the same;<br />If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken<br />Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,<br />Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,<br />And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:<br />If you can make one heap of all your winnings<br />And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,<br />And lose, and start again at your beginnings<br />And never breath a word about your loss;<br />If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew<br />To serve your turn long after they are gone,<br />And so hold on when there is nothing in you<br />Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"<br />If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,<br />Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,<br />If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;<br />If all men count with you, but none too much,<br />If you can fill the unforgiving minute<br />With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,<br />Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,<br />And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!</span></blockquote>
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<br /></div>
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Rudyard Kipling</div>
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</div>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-62016536514042520552012-04-09T16:04:00.000-04:002012-04-09T16:29:04.109-04:00salinger says...<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting.</span></blockquote>
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</div>tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512592530280951144.post-31272816383136901622012-04-01T13:11:00.004-04:002012-04-01T14:22:31.602-04:00on letting go. a reminder.<span style="font-size: large;">because last week i re-read (<i>yeah, i'm a habitual <a href="http://tobethatguy.blogspot.com/2008/12/like-savage-underneath.html" style="color: #0b5394;">re-reader</a></i>) <b>Eat Pray Love</b>. and because the same part(s) that made me cry the first time and the second time made me cry the third time (<i>no, <b>you're</b> a girl!</i>). so i'll just share again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">re-blogged from September 25, 2007:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;">What I had wanted for so long was to have an actual conversation with my ex-husband, but this was obviously never going to happen. What I had been craving was a resolution, a peace summit, from which we could emerge with a united understanding of what had occurred in our marriage, and a mutual forgiveness for the ugliness of our divorce...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I climbed to the top of the tower... the sun was going down right now. The breeze was warm. I unfolded the piece of paper the plumber/poet had given me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had typed:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1. Life's metaphors are God's instructions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2. You have just climbed up and above the roof. There is nothing between you and the Infinite. Now, let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3. The day is ending. it's time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that was beautiful. Now, let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4. Your wish for resolution was a prayer. Your being here is God's response. Let go, and watch the stars come out - on the outside and on the inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">5. With all your heart, ask for grace, and let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6. With all your heart, forgive him, FORGIVE YOURSELF, and let him go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">7. Let your intention be freedom from useless suffering. Then, let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">8. Watch the heat of the day pass into the cool night. Let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">9. When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It's safe. Let go.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">10. When the past has passed from you at last, let go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With great joy.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">... And then, to my surprise, still in meditation, I did an odd thing. I invited my ex-husband to please join me up here on this rooftop in India. I asked him if he would be kind enough to meet me up here for this farewell event. Then I waited until I felt him arrive. And he did arrive. His presence was suddenly absolute and tangible. I could practically smell him.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;">I said, "Hi, sweetie..."</span></blockquote>
<br />tobethatguyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01488376616686814691noreply@blogger.com0