Filed under: The Daily Dish
“Hi, this is Kitty writing on behalf of MisstressM,
She’s not here right now.
Actually, she’s not even in THE COUNTRY right now.
She’s enjoying the sun and surf in Armenia, as a matter of fact.
MissM will be returning to the real world after the 30th.
So please, leave a message after the beep and let her know how much you’ve MISSED her!
beeeeeeeep……”
Filed under: Save me! I'm a woman | Tags: dating, men, romantic picnics, smitten
Kitty called me this morning at 5:41 to be exact. Why would she do such a thing?
Well, because I might have hinted to her that I was on to something and I needed her assistance. I mean it was no big deal. But I really needed her. And now that it’s over I am no longer worried. That’s all.
Ok. End of story. Thanks for listening.
All right ……… I will tell you.
You see my story begins about two weeks ago. As you may know, I am slave to my work and my clients. You can always find me in one of two places at the office or in Orange County in this one specific client’s facility. So in my absence, Miss T created a dating profile for yours truly, activated the account, and left me to fend for myself. And fending is exactly what I have been doing. So far I have been on a total of seven dates, yes…..thats right. 7. I the span of 14 days. Plus I had few phone conversations with potentials, and we cant forget my undying dedication to my work. So I am struggling to balance this shit out. But I am doing good so far.
Date Number One: Egyptian Boy who only wanted to get laid.
Status: Fired —-he can stay home and do what he does best. Jack off!
Date Number Two: CFO at an Insurance Company.
Status: Fired — Too close for comfort, boring as hell, only spoke about federal regulations, had a heart attack at 41. Can’t be with him because I don’t want him to burst his clogged arteries while I am playing the game of naughty.
Date Number Three: The Boy Who Could
Status: FIRED —- he refused to speak during dinner (he asked me to join him for dinner) after dinner he slid the check to me saying “Dutch?” Fuck that! I paid the whole bill.
Date Number Four: Fat Boy in disguise
Status: Laid off —- Any boy who has bigger boos than I and flings his hand at me is officially competition. CAN’T HAVE that.
I am getting tiered here….
Date Number Five: The one with the beer belly
Status: Ignored —sure…whatever, sweet, funny….but not my cup of tea. There was no chemistry and he was too clingy
Date Number Six: Dennis the Dentist
Status: Assassinated —– I don’t compete for attention. And more importantly I don’t compete with feathered psychotic women.
Phhhhewwww one more to go
Date Number SEVEN: Mr. Romantic
Status: Considering
This is where I got into trouble with Kitty.
Set Up: At a park facing a small pond with ducks and water lilies
Points received: Two — he must have learned it from a book or something
Accessories: Blanket, picnic basket, wine glasses, expensive bottle of my favorite wine, cheese cakes, and barriers.
Points received: Two —- he may have learned this from somewhere but he certainly came prepared. He even had a bottle opener
Perverted moves: None
Points received: Five —- laying on a blanket with a man who was oozing testosterone and him not try anything funny is priceless for me.
Conversation: Kind of shy. I have to admit, I do have an overpowering personality.
Points received: I will give him another two
TOTAL POINTS RECEIVED Eleven —- the boy tipped the scale
I won’t give you step by step details of the date. But I can tell you that he is pretty damn close to being an equal to Lover Cop. Now this Lover Cop person is history, but he did set the bar pretty high for the men to follow. Long story short, the date was awesome, he was gorgeous, he had crystal blue eyes, this chest that I could pour honey over and lick, and the softest lips. Oh my and the biggest hands every time he touched my hair I would practically roll my eyes and purr. He was a little bummed that I will be leaving the country for two weeks and there will be no follow up dates until September, but he made a point to tell me that he is waiting for a call when I return back to LA.
Now…..granted he is awesome, and blah blah blah….I am still who I am, therefore I have no intentions of settling down yet. I have few other boys in my inbox whom I have to go out on a date with. Emmm does not fall in love, and Emmm has no weaknesses when it comes to these male creatures. Now, with all that in mind I have a question. Both Kitty and Miss T were disturbed by it. But I figured I could ask you as well.
Suppose I met another guy, and he happened to look somewhat identical to this above mentioned Lover Cop person, but wasn’t Lover Cop. And supposed the impersonator had the same name as Lover Cop…would it be too weird for me to go out with him? Because we all know where my mind would go.
Yeah I thought so.
Ok my lovelies. I am getting ready to go. I have much packing to do, few conferences to attend…and an international flight to catch. See you all in September. Much love.
Filed under: Save me! I'm a woman, That thing that I did | Tags: dating, dentist, emergency room
I don’t like dentists. They freak me out. Make me feel self conscious about my own teeth. When I have to have any kind of a meeting with any dentist I brush my teeth profusely. I almost want to gurgle bleach just to make sure that I don’t miss a speck of germ. Don’t even get me started about flossing.
God I don’t like dentists.
And that is exactly why I went out on a date with Dennis the Dentist. Ok. Well, I maybe went out with him because I wanted to get over my fear of men in white and latex gloves. Sure they are immaculate; sure they are this and that. But honestly they intimidate the daylights out of me. I keep sucking on my lips with hope that nothing shows. Not that I have bad teeth or dragon breath. But I still don’t want anything to slip by.
So I agreed to a HOT date with Dennis the five foot three dentist.
Maybe I should slow down and give you details about him. He is indeed kind of….sort of….. too short for a man. He is also very fragile looking with minuscule wrists and tiny knuckles. But the best part or the hook as I call it, he has a macaw. A Scarlet Macaw. Red, pretty, and obnoxiously loud. I on the other hand have a Blue and Gold Macaw, named Romeo. Romeo is a well behaved 10 year old macaw that loves kissing you when you give him a treat, or he gives you a high five when you pick him up. His Scarlet, was named Cramer with a high-pitched scream and constant hunger for fresh fingers.
Our date? Starbucks. Our guests? Two macaws, one male and one female. Match made in heaven if you asked me. Our conversation? Nothing too spectacular.
“What does your bird eat?”
“Fruits, veggies, nuts, and the occasional chicken drumsticks.”
“Ohhh, how long do you keep him in his cage?”
“Romeo doesn’t have a cage?”
“Ohhh, so he roams the house?”
“No, he chills out on his perch. The last thing I want to do is scrub bird poop from my furniture.”
“Do you take showers with him?”
“Do I what?”
That is a basic conversation that Dennis and I had. Needless to say I spent two hours sitting in the scorching sun with my date and our birds. Romeo wanted nothing to do with Cramer, he found her annoying and I found her nipping at my fingers uncomfortable. She would wait for the opportune moment and strike at me. My bird would sit closer on my lap and occasionally would nudge me on the elbow as if telling me “Mom, she is crazy. I can not date her.”
All of this happened while my date sat in his chair comfortably with his short legs crossed and sweat like he was melting. Not just the occasional sweat bead, but he was profusely perspiring. He would take out rolls of balled napkins wipe the sweaty riverbeds off of his face, roll it up into neat balls and shove it back into his pocket where he initially discovered the white balls of awesomeness. I just watched him, hoping that he wouldn’t discover that I had a mouth full of cavities and that occasionally I forget to brush my teeth at night. But I let him go on, simply because I already knew there was no hope for me, but I wouldn’t mind if my bird got to score with a sassy woman dressed in red.
All was well, until I reached out to pet the untamed beast. And at that exact moment I lost sight of her beak disposition and had my knuckle trapped in a beak capable of delivering 3000 pounds of pressure per square inch. The first thought in my mind, was “Ohhhh shit this hurts.” The second thought was “Fuck! If Romeo ever bit me like this I would cook his ass and have him for dinner.” What did my courageous date do?
Scream “You cockroach let her go.”
Who calls their pet cockroach? If I had to scold my bird by calling him a nasty pesky roach I would first burst into uncontrollable laughter then tell him no. Needless to say, Cockroach eventually let me go. She was not disturbed by it, but my bird had this look of shock on his macaw eyes. My index finger throbbed with unexplainable pain, blood began flowing to the surface and Dennis kept repeating under his breath, “Oh my God are you ok?”
“Yes, I am fine” I managed to respond while doing my best not to hiss at him out of pain.
“Oh my God. You are not ok. I can see your finger.”
“I am fine” I threw my purse in the back seat, perched Romeo on the back of the passenger seat and slowly make my way into the driver seat as my finger began to swell and blood started gushing out from the opening of Cockroach’s beak piercing.
I had two choices; wait for my finger to fall off from its socket or go to the emergency room and have a hot intern patch me to pieces. So emergency room we went with my macaw at toe. I sat in the emergency room with my finger throbbing and my well behaved bird perched on the chair, he would occasionally look up and make small talk with the thug sitting next to him. Finally I was seen, by a hot doctor wearing minty green scrubs.
“Your bird get hungry?”
“No my date’s bird decided I was not a match for her daddy.”
“Uhhhh date? That’s a little freaky. “
“Awwwwwwwww…..Boy! you gotta be gentile that hurts.”
“How strong are their beaks.”
“About 3000 pounds of pressure per square inch.”
“Might as well as stick your hand in a crocodiles mouth.”
“I was fresh out of crocks. I will see to it, that my next date fancies reptiles with giant teeth.”
“So you really were on a date?”
“Awww fucker that stings.”
“You have a potty mouth.”
“The odds are stacked up against me. You want me to praise you for hurting me even more or you want me to tell you how I feel?”
“How you feel. But don’t scold me.”
“if I were to scold you, I would call you cockroach.”
“No I like fucker better, we have to x-ray your finger.”
“Why is it broken?”
“I don’t know yet?”
“What do you mean you don’t know. I can move my finger, so it cant be broken.”
“Good point.”
“You single?”
“No”
“Damn that woman.”
“No, its damn that man.”
“Hot dang it, even men are competing with me.”
Needless to say, hundred dollars later, 20% coinsurance for a $2000 emergency room visit, I think I may have to tell Dennis that we are not a match. Come to think of it, I am not going to brush my teeth tonight, just to have closure.
Filed under: The Daily Dish
I know. I know… I have to write. And after I write I have to actually read.
You know that thing where you scratch my back and I scratch yours. Or where you give me a mind blowing orgasm and I will give you one as well. Well, I haven’t been so good at that lately.
I know! I am working on it. Give me time…sheesh!
But first I have to iron out details with a job that wants me to be MORE dedicated, and then I have a bone to pick with the guy who came up with the idea that a typical day should have 24 hours.
24 hours? Are you kidding me? Exactly what do you think I can accomplish in 24 hours?
That’s right. Nothing!
But I did go hiking the other day. This time I was a good girl, I did not take pictures of a hot guys asses. I didn’t harass skinny people. And better yet, I kept my mouth shut.
Well until I came across this little fella.
What do you think it is?
No, its not a bird, its not even Superman. It’s a lizard. But the general population in Santa Monica who happened to be hiking that day didn’t know this.
I kid you not this is the conversation I had while I attempted to creep up on the slimy looking reptile.
Blondie: Oh my God is that an alligator?
Me: Shhhhhhh…..Wait…what the fuck? Did you ask if this was an alligator?
Blondie: Yeah is that an alligator?
Me: Ehhhmmmm. No! Alligators have different snouts and live in swamps. We are in the desert.
Blondie: They bite.
Me: I would too if you were standing around.
She huffed and ran past me. Until I was greeted by a BIG Homegirl who could kick my ass.
Homegirl: Is dat a lizard?
Me: You gotta be kidding me.
Miss T: No, it’s a new species of land sharks. They are poisonous.
Homegirl: Daymn girrrl. Ya hear dat! Letz go.
Now you tell me. Which species of alligator or land shark does he belong to? But if you look at him closely he does resemble a sea hawk without wings.
Filed under: The Daily Dish
So few days ago, I was being all so innocent because I am nothing but innocent. Sitting in my lonesome at the office and watching work pile on my desk like there was no tomorrow when I received an interesting and mind provoking text
message. Which I am here to share with you.
It was from a boy who I met at a place I won’t disclose and went out with him once which I wont tell you when. But things kind of didn’t work out.
You know that saying “Timing was not right”. Well, it applied to us in this situation. So instead of molesting one another we became text message and email buddies. It worked out just fine.
I swear, there were no clear hints of anything naughty. Sure from time to time we may have teased one another, but that was all. I swear….. Even I was being a good girl. Shocking I know.
Until the above mentioned text message that is. All nice girl and gentleman behaviors went out the window.
You see, few days ago I may have been tad bit down in my spirits and I may have sent him and all of my loyal text message compadres a message asking who their Goddess is. And of course, as usual the conversation with this one said person took on a different turn and somehow became a two day ordeal. The short of it is that he told me that he worships his Goddess, which in his case is me, in his own way. And when I probed him for answers and proof that there is a sacred ritual for my worship he sent me THIS.
I know….I know…..I know…..brace yourself. And girls stop giggiling…..boys, I don’t know what to say if you have bit of issues with this said male and his clear display of Pride and Joy.
That being said, I would like to say. STUPID STUPID STUPID me. How did I let THAT slip by me? I mean come on can you imagine? I mean……dang look at that. And if I may also add he is not holding his male parts by the tips of his pinky and thumb he has a full grip and there is still some….I mean A LOT left over.
I may have to brand his ass one of these days. Be prepared for stories!
Filed under: The Daily Dish
So yeah…The Boy and I are no longer. We have been no longer for quite some time now. It started off with me developing an inkling of emotions, and then it developed into a fear that it may not be something he was looking for.
So naturally….well no….naturally is never a word with me. As tradition would have it I started pulling away from him slowly, and then anytime we had a date his friends were invited which totally screwed up my mojo which then fucked up my concentration and I could no longer concentrate on the part where I should not fear the FEAR. So I started to withdraw even more. And then I stopped accepting invitations where it mostly involved sex and large amounts of time spent with his friends. My response was canned and quite possibly cold, I would just say “Yeah, have fun I will see you later.”
And THEN the telephone calls became lax. First it was random calls with short lived conversations, which later developed to short and abrupt text messages to completely no correspondence what’s so ever.
Somewhere in there I should include my hectic work schedule, and obsessive worrying over the Client from Hell.
Needless to say, The Boy and I are no longer. But hey, I am proud of myself. I broke my tradition as far as not throwing the “relationship” in the gutter after week two, which of course I am infamous for. Its like I get ants in my pants after week two.
My darlings, here are my questions “Do I”
A) Move on and concentrate on my account from hell? And school with schedule more fucked up then the account from hell.
Or
B) Do I reconsider my singlehoodness (if there is such a word) and consider dating again?
No question about it. I need the physical contact, I need the communication, and we all know that I am a testosterone addict.
But here is the absolute twist.
I met someone yesterday. For the lack of creativity we are going to call him Son of a Bitch. But that was not really how I felt about him up until few hours ago. I really liked him. I thought he was HOT. And the best part, the guy did not allow me to bully him around. Which is a big….I mean BIG plus. Long story short. Ginormous Boobs is having a party tonight, which I plan on attending. He asked if he could join and I thought about it only to say yes.
WAIT….that’s not all. The best part is because there will be heavy alcohol usage involved I planned on staying at the Beach House. And if he is my guest, he had to stay as well. So I had to put in the disclaimer which clearly said,
“Just because you are spending the night with me, it does not automatically guarantee you sex. If those are your expectations, please know that the answer is NO.”
Do you know what he said? “Are you serious? That’s not gonna work”
Yup! I think Option A is my best bet for now.
There you have it. More proof that Emm is incapable at this relationship thing and she should resort to using and abusing men until she is satisfied.
Filed under: The Daily Dish
You know, I find people who bounce around skipping and singing “Happy Happy Joy Joy” annoying. Not just a little bit. But there is seriously high level of annoyance built up in me.
I want to ambush them and smack them upside down their heads with a bologna. Nothing too violent. Just serious abuse by the most phallic looking food related content. That’s all.
It’s just something that has been at the back of my mind for sometime now. And I would not mind taking out my frustration on annoying people.
Can I? Ohhhh please! I mean pretty please!”
Filed under: Save me! I'm a woman | Tags: damn bastards, I hate my job, meetings, Money, overworked slave
Let me tell you what I find irritating.
No, that was said very politely. Let me tell you what pisses me off to no extent.
Nahhhhh…..that was nice yet again. Let me tell you what has me wound up and pissed off to no fucking extent.
You see, for the last three months I have been working like a bee on acid. 10-12 hour days are nothing for my work schedule. I was ok with that, until they started touching my days off. I have a serious problem with the fact that some rich ass mother fucker wants me to use up five days out of my seven days working for him, and then says, “Ohhhhh that’s not enough. I need Emm to work for me on Saturdays too so that my company can outshine the completion”
Yeah I have a problem with that. In all reality I depend on the paycheck that they dangle in front of me. So I suck it up and do my job. The problem with me is that I do it so fucking well that everyone wants me to work with their giant accounts.
This summer, I only have a day and a half off.
I am not fucking kidding you. I have this Saturday available to me after 4 and the whole Sunday. How fucking generous of them.
But you see this is what pissed me off the most.
Yesterday in the midst of chaos the president of my mock job of a company looked at my boss and said. “We gotta come up with a way to have all 3000 employee kits made by Thursday.”
Boss – I agree.
Me – Lets sent it to a printer and they will have the kits ready for us.
President – Yeah but how much are they going to charge us?
Me – Roughly around 3 grand.
Boss – Wow!
President – That’s steep.
Me – I understand. But I am EXHAUSTED.
President – Why don’t we meet tomorrow morning and talk over the details, I gotta take my daughter to her softball game in few minutes.
Me (taking a serious deep breath, because if I hear “meeting” one more time I am going to kill someone) – What time?
President – 6:30
Me – AM or PM?
Boss – AM
Me- Ok
Do you know what time it is now?
It is 8:00 in the morning.
Do you know that I was here at 6 and 6:30 came and passed, 7:00 happened, 7:30 flew by, and 8:00 snuck up behind me and none of the mother fuckers showed up.
None…..zip….zero….NADA!
I am on the verge of tears. I am exhausted, burned out. And frankly I don’t give a flying fuck who prints, and folds 3000 brochures or even puts together 3000 employee kits.
Anyone want to create Emm’s unemployment charity fund, because I am ready to walk out.
Filed under: Save me! I'm a woman | Tags: being searched, cops, flirting
So I got searched the other day.
I know…..I know…what you are saying. But I swear to you, this time I was innocent. Almost 99.989999999% innocent.
I don’t mess with cops, for one simple reason. The bastards think they are Gods and they sometimes act like they are indeed Gods. And frankly, I have better things to do than hang out in jail.
It never fails though, regardless of the caution I use I am still exposed to them. I can’t shake off the uniformed men out of my life.
Anyway, I know you are at the edge of your seat waiting for me to tell you what I did to get searched.
NOTHING….No really, I SWEAR, I did NOTHING.
I was on my way to the airport, international airport to be more specific and the officer standing in the corner waved me off, and like a good girl I obliged (because he was young and HOT) and his little scrawny partner with random pluckings on his face (I think he called the fuzz on his face mustache) walked over to my car and said, “Miss, we are doing random car searches. May we search your car?” First of all so not fair. I wanted to talk to the hot one, not the short dude with the mop on his face. But sure, I guess whatever. What was he going to find? Files? Or pencils?
Anyway, here is a lesson for you.
Rule number one (and only RULE #1)…..If you don’t have a dead body in the car, you always say yes. Even if you say no, they will still search. So just say yes. And if you do have few unreasonable things in the trunk, make a point to disclose them. The boys may look at you with tiny bit of respect.
So here I am, standing on the grass in a suite, with my heels sinking into the mud, with a smug smile on my face and my fingers crossed as they search my car. Did I look suspicious or something? The only thing I was guilty of was whistling at the first one and thinking to myself “Damn…..look at that ass. Too bad he is a cop”
I don’t date cops. I think they are too much of a headache.
So anyway, it took the guy with degenerated hair follicles few minutes to go through the contents of my car only to wave me to him with his short stubby fingers.
I ignored the little guy with horrible job of a mustache and looked at the hot stud next to me. And said, “That’s it?”
- “Yes, its just customary. You are free to go?”
- “Really? Just like that?
- “Yes Ma’am”
- “ That’s all the search I get?”
- “Why?”
- “I mean, no strip search?”
He burst out laughing, and as soon as he had cooled off and whipped away the grin from his face he said. “No, not today.”
I mean what does a girl have to do to get stripped searched these days? Gees!
Filed under: Bitch time, Save me! I'm a woman, dating | Tags: dating, men, woman's frustration
What am I looking for? I am not looking for anything. It is what I am not finding.
I have battled with this subject matter for several years now and I am beginning to think that my standards are set too high and the bar is unreachable. Either that of all of these losers are short and incapable of seeing, let alone recognizing the basic needs of a woman.
I will be first to tell you that I am not simple woman. I am one of the complicated ones with twists and turns. Simple is boring, it’s bland and unflavorful. I am far form all of those. Purposely because I like standing out and being identified as different.
I don’t do the psycho, whiney chick thing. I don’t fall in love at hello, I don’t have any ticking biological clocks anywhere in the vicinity of my being. I hate being smothered; I have my own life, my own money, my own friends, my own universe. I just need to share it with someone.
And this is exactly where I am faced with my dilemma.
SOMEONE….
I have yet to find or even identify this “someone: worthy of anything. Let alone all of me. I can not believe the amount of male scum there is on the face of the earth. And if miraculously he is not scum then he is someone I have no desire for. It’s screwed up regardless of how I look at it. I am beginning to give up on this relationship and love thing.
But I want to experience it at least once in this lifetime.
