Saturday, December 6, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Steph and I definately wanted to have a long day at City Park on Sunday where we could just relax and enjoy the music, all the way up to watching R.E.M. We both agreed that we are getting along in age, and that maybe edgeing our way up to the front of the stage probably wouldn't be such a great idea. So, we started off seeing Tokyo Police Club (but we were a little late) and we made friends with a woman sitting next to us. Everywhere we went we made friends. I thought it was great that people looked at us and thought, "Wow, these two girls are RAD!" Because we are.
So, after Tokyo Police Club, we saw Lupe Fiasco, who wasn't our cup of tea, but whatever. Then we went to see some lame band at the crap stage, just to say that we at least TRIED to watch a band at that stage, but after two seconds, I looked at Steph, and she immediately read my mind: "Please God, let me out of here."
We headed over to the New Orleans stage, where Quintron was playing. Oh sweet baby Jesus, this guy was WEIRD. Like crazy. Not really making music but more making noises with things that may represent instruments in an alternate universe. Of course, Steph dug him. I looked at her with the same look on my face as before, and she succumbed, but not as willingly as I had hoped.
Then we headed over to watch The Blind Boys of Alabama with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band play. Wow! What enthusiasm! And they have won tons of Grammys. I was impressed. And it was so great because there were a bunch of (hot) guys playing frisbee and just hanging out. It was very relaxed and chill.
Then we decided to head back over to commandeer a spot for R.E.M. We watched Dashboard Confessional, who I really, really enjoyed, and Panic! at the Disco, who were OK.
Then. (Drum roll, please):
That's right, R.E.M. We were so happy, it was like we died and gone to heaven. Here's proof:
Let me tell you. This was probably the most amazing music festival I have ever been to. I haven't been to very many, but this was great. There were all sorts of people and bands from everywhere and a tent dedicated all to local music, and another tent dedicated all to brass and jazz bands. So, not only were there bands like Stone Temple Pilots and R.E.M., but we got to see local bands like Rotary Downs and The Vettes, who were also amazingly talented bands.
So, I got us all dressed up. A small feat for me! It was pretty hard to get myself ready, and the baby ready, and then to get all of our gear into the car (I was thinking of hiring a Sherpa). Then I had to drive in New Orleans traffic. Whew! But then we got there, and Steph and I had a lovely lunch -- thanks, Louisiana Bar Association, for that great gift certificate!
As we were eating, I looked up, and there was a parade passing by! A random parade! There was no meaning behind it. No protesting. Nothing. Just people getting together, playing music for the enjoyment of others. It was truly a beautiful sight. Alas, none of the pictures turned out. The window was my camera's enemy.
After lunch, the baby and I headed home, where we got into our pajamas and took a well deserved nap. It was a long day!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
After living in Idaho for 26 of my 31 years, I thought living in a swing state was exciting: party rallies, actual political candiates visiting the state instead of ignoring you because your vote wouldn't even come close to counting. But now, now I live in Nevada. A blue state. It makes me a little teary eyed.
Congrats, Obama, the 44th President of The United States!
Monday, October 27, 2008
OK. It wasn't that spooky. Or ghost-y for that matter. But it was a fun way to start off the week! For $20, we got two-for-one drinks at a couple of bars (SURPRISE!) and we got to hear some really cool stories about how New Orleans started and used to be. It was pretty gory and violently graphic. So I loved it!!
Here we are at one of the mandatory drinking stops. Errrr, I mean "bathroom breaks." At least, that is how they described it. Because you know, we ladies can hardly control our bladder for AN HOUR!!! So we have to stop and go to the bathroom. Instead of using the vile facilities, we decided to drink. A PBR for me and a Cuba Libre for Steph. Oddly enough, the bartender didn't know what a Cuba Libre was. (You may not either. Don't feel bad. It's a rum & Coke.) But when you are that close to Cuba, and a bartender in the biggest drinking town I've EVER seen, you might want to catch up on your bar lingo.
This is a picture of Steph and her Bloody Mary. Now, the story on the Bloody Mary: We were "forced" to wait for the tour to start in a bar where we got aforementioned two-for-one drinks. The bartender asked me what we wanted, and I told her I wanted a Cape Cod. She looks at Steph, who says in a HEAVY Southern accent, "Y'all got Zing Zangs?" But it came out like "Y'all got Zing Zaaaaaangs?" And as I turned to see who this stranger was ordering a drink with me, a totally hot guy standing next to us looks at Steph and asks her what Zing Zangs is. She replies, this time with a little less South in her voice, "It's a Bloody Mary mix. And it's fuckin' goooooooood."
Now, I was surprised that this beautiful man was speaking to us, but more surprised that Steph had picked up a Southern accent, but even more surprised that she said fuckin' to a complete stranger.
I seriously laughed about it the entire ghost tour, and I constantly asked her if Zing Zangs was fuckin' good.
A random shot of the French Quarter, or Vieux Carre, as they say in Nawlins. This is where we started our tour.
I had to post this on my blog even if it is a horrible picture. (My camera is getting the boot. It SUCKS!) But I had to post it because our tour guide had this outrageous story of this house that pure evil and vile things happened here, and we were all engrossed in the story, and then all of it turned out to be fake. But Nicholas Cage owns the house now. Seriously scary.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
So, in honor of all the people who have busted my non-existent balls over the last week: here is the latest in the life of Micaela.
I'm not dating this month. I am too busy. THANK GOD. What with scrapbooking, Apple Hill and a giant trip to New Orleans, I simply don't have the energy to date. And I needed a real break. One that I didn't force upon myself because I was so fed up with men, but a break that I actually looked forward to! And it has been nice.
But I do have a few stories and pictures to share, and they will be forthcoming. Patience is a virtue. One that I do not possess, but one you should.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I said, "If Kate tries one more time to make me feel sorry for her and her dilemma between TWO HOT GUYS I will seriously barf. I can't empathize with Kate. I'm more like Hugo: the dude I'm in love with is either dead or will end up that way."
And I thought this person was going to die laughing. And she didn't criticize my comparison. Instead she said, "At least you aren't crazy like Hugo."
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Fourth date and I were to meet at The Stonehouse Cafe, a cute little place with awesome outdoor seating. I couldn't eat too much because later that night I had a date with many a rib at The Best in the West Nugget Rib Cook Off! (Yum! Ribs!) Anyhoo, I got to the cafe right on time and waited for about 5 minutes when my uncle showed up!
OK, my REAL uncle didn't show up, but my date LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE HIM. Just like my uncle does now. Not fifteen years ago. The same. Mind you my uncle is my mother's OLDER brother. He's 56 years old. I'm 31. My age cut-off for my dates is 42. Now, if he would have strolled in looking just like Harrison Ford does right now, no problem. I'm down with some old Han Solo action. NOT old uncle action because, well, that makes me throw up a little in my mouth.
So, here I am, trying really hard not to laugh out loud, thinking, "This isn't this guy's fault that he looks like my uncle! I'm going to try to make the best of it." Then he spoke. And never shut up. "What color are your eyes?" he barked at me. "Brown," I replied. "Show me," he demanded. I lifted up my glasses, in defiance. What? Did he not believe me? Did he think I had color contacts in? I mean, seriously.
"I'm going to get into trouble for saying this, but I am going to say it anyway..." This was his segue into EVERY sentence he spoke. And I soon came to realize that this was his way of apologizing for the next thing to come out of his mouth, which was inevitably rude and obnoxious. In all actuality, he really wasn't sorry he was going to be rude. He just wanted me to know that he KNOWS he is being rude.
"What's wrong with you?" he barked loud enough for people three tables over to hear.
By this point in the conversation, I was done. I was ready to leave. Then he throws this disgusting and vile question at me, and it was all I could to not reply: "You and people like you are the problem. People who think that just because I am pretty, intelligent, and apparently desperate, I should have a boyfriend. But I do not settle. I will not settle. I will not settle to make society happy and to make myself seemingly happy. I will not settle just to make everyone around me more comfortable at parties and happy that 'I finally found someone.' I will not settle just because society thinks I am supposed to."
Instead, I replied, "I'm picky." And left it at that.
Then his phone rang. He answered it. It was his sister. This is how his end of the conversation went: "Oh, hey! What are you doin'? Me? Oh, I'm here in Reno on a date with a cute little redhead...(to me) are you a redhead? (Me: No, I'm brunette) (Him to the phone) oh, sorry, cute little brunette. What? No, she's pretty. She seems smart and she is easy to talk to. She's cool. She's ...What? Oh, she isn't here. Are you being good? You better. Ok, I better get back to my date or I'm gonna scare her off. Be good. Bye." Then to me: "That was my sister. I told her to be good because she has a drinking problem."
All I can think is: "God, please let a spaceship land, abduct me, anally probe me, and leave me for dead, because that will at least be less painful than this conversation."
Thursday, August 14, 2008
1) All I want to do is get a decent boyfriend, much like all they want to do is get off the island.
2) Lame ass men = The Others.
3) It LOOKS like there is hope, but every time something good happens, someone goes and fucks it up. (i.e.: a submarine mysteriously appears, and then it gts blown up. Much like I think I am going out with a well-educated man who owns his own home, who actually turns out to be an apartment renter with a cat.)
4) Dating world: every (wo)man for himself. Same on the island. Oh, they may TALK like they are trying to help each other out, but everyone really is only in it for themselves. Just like dating.
5) In other words, dating and being stranded on a deserted island are very much the same: they both suck the hope right out from your soul. But you keep trying, or die trying. Frankly, right now, I would rather be stranded on that crappy island than stranded in this crappy dating world I call Reno.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
However, this little program maybe the answer to many of my dilemmas. No longer will I have to suffer through dates who aren't serious about being in a relationship. No longer will I have to worry about the dreaded children conversation. No longer will I have to worry about "getting to know" the men before the first date.
Who knows. Possibly I have shot myself in the foot. I might have made the biggest mistake of my life. I might be setting myself up for only more heartache. However, my motto, if I ever had one is: "At least I can say I tried it."
Monday, July 28, 2008
I got to see a lot of familar faces, and some not so familar, like new additions to my bunch of girlfriends' families: And I got to watch Aidan do some of his favorite things:
1) Play with the hose.2) Play with Aitxetxe.
I seriously had a lot of fun with my little buddy. I hope everyone who was there had as much fun as I did!!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
That being said, Enjoy!!
Sunday, July 13, 2008
I thought, "I have a list! I should update it again." It seems so simple. We'll see. I'm quite the pessimist right now when it comes to men. I guess what I am working on right now is just trying to be nicer and more approachable to strangers, men and women alike, because I want to put forth a friendly persona. I have to practice that.
Here's the new list.
1) He must be pun-ny. I have no idea why, but stupid lame puns make me laugh. Hard. Don't ask me why; it just is.
2) He must have decent looks. Do I care if He is not of the "correct" height to weight ratio? Shit no, because then I would be a hypocrite. But I must be attracted to Him. My barf reflexes are not that great.
3) He must have passion. And I don't mean He has to be passionate toward me, just that we share the same passions (or some of the same passions). Life, music (not JUST Bono), movies, books. He has to enjoy going to the movies and watching movies. He has to like movies. He must like to read something, even if it is magazines or the newspaper. Never do I want to hear out of His mouth, "You're always reading. Why don't you spend more time with Me?"
4) He must appreciate me for who I am. Duh, right? Well, I may think so, but most of the men I have dated seem to think that I should be thankful for the small amount of time and attention they give me. Think again, assholes.
5) He must be funny, in addition to pun-ny. And He has to appreciate my humor as well. Never do I want to hear these words ever again: "You're not as funny as you think you are, Micaela." Because then I will be forced to reply, "Well, dumb ass, you have a horrible sense of humor. How's this for funny: GET LOST." He might not like that.
6) He must be smart. At least as smart as I am.
8) He must travel well. In other words, travel well with me. I like to travel. Nay, I LOVE to travel. And while on this last trip to New Orleans, I realized that my future partner must be able to travel well with me. Surprisingly, most of my exes have possessed this quality, but it still must be on the list as a must have.
9) He must be aware of certain social niceties. Such as, after two dates and He is still interested in me, He must be aware socially enough to realize that I will not wait around for Him to call me, and that He must put forth an effort for me to actually realize He is interested.
10) He must like to/want to hang out with my friends. And vice versa.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Since we had such a wonderful time last year at the Lake, we decided to go again this year. however, we did not check the weather reports or think that maybe since the entire state of California is on fire, that maybe, quite possibly, it would be smoky.
This is the one picture I got of the fireworks. My roommates got WAAAAAAY better pictures, and when I get copies, I will share them with you.
I hope you all had a lovely 4th of July!
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I replied, somewhat flippantly, "It's telling me to chill the hell out."
Then I laughed and screamed, "OK, universe, I hear you!"
So, I made myself a pact. I will chill the hell out. I will no longer worry about being alone forever. (This will prove to be impossible, but something that I can work on forever. Eternity. Infinity. Plus one.) I will do what I want, when I want. I will read more books. I will play more video games. I will write more blogs. (About what, I am not sure, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it.) I will play more. I will save up for my Prius.
I will worry less.
In other words: Universe, LAY OFF! I get it. Now, leave me alone and go bug some other super hip girl.
Friday, June 20, 2008
I had emailed Freak (I could come up with a more clever nickname, but this one just sums it all up in one simple word, and I think it appropriate) a month ago. I never got a response. Whatever. It happens all the time.
Then I got an email last Saturday morning. Here is an excerpt:
"I feel awkward approaching you after such a long period of time but I really do have a good excuse. And if all good relationships are predicated on trust then I will hope that you will trust me when I give it to you. But if you want it (the explanation) you will have to email me back to get it. But I will say this much; just because it looked like I was active on Match at or around the time you contacted me doesn't mean I was. Please email me back. I am very interested in seeing if we have more in common than a love of humor (I really am a riot to be around when I got my comedy mojo game on)."
I responded: "OK, I'll bite. What's the deal? And I don't like to do the whole, let's email forever thing."
He replied that he didn't either, and we exchanged phone numbers, and set up a date.
Freak was freaky. To put it mildly.
1) He is a vegetarian because he doesn't want to hurt any kind of animal if not absolutely necessary. OK. Sounds good to me.
2) He likes "his" women to be submissive in bed. And he likes to abuse them. OK, so you won't eat a steak, but you will beat your girlfriend?
Like I said, he's a Freak.
So I got home and emailed him my normal polite response to any freaky date I have: Hey, nice to have met you, but we won't make a good match. (Read: Hey freakzaoid, lose my number, wish I would have never met you, and I wish I would have never wasted a perfectly good Saturday night hanging out with the likes of you, asshole.)
He responded with THIS little tidbit:
"I honestly, sincerely thank you for giving me an out, its hard when you are a considerate person and don't know how to tell people no, (that's what got me into that last situation, should have kicked her to the curb the first day I met her.) I tried to provide an out to you as well with some of my behaviors, I'm an actor at heart and all of life is a stage. By the way, I don't know how many women you've been with (I assume none) but you can't believe how many women are REALLY into being dominated. I am speaking from direct experience. I don't want to argue this with you, or belabor the point, but I know I am right about this. "
FREAK! Seriously, thank you for giving YOU an out? Did you not read the email message I sent you that said LOSE MY NUMBER, ASSHOLE? Did you not hear me when I said I had to go home because it was time for bed? Who says that on a first date who is interested in YOU? No one, that's who. And what does me being with other women have ANYTHING to do with how you like to dominate women in the bedroom? And since when is this kosher first-date topics of conversation?
Good God, what a freak.
Friday, June 6, 2008
2) all the people who stood on the sidewalk WATCHING and not doing anything.
3) Rush, Bill, etc.
4) The guy who invented conservipedia. A quote from my sister after I asked her what it was: "They [the conservatives] thought wikipedia was too liberal so they started another one for conservatives. Did they not realize that you can add your own shit to wikipedia, thus making it less liberal than you believe it to be? The whole friggin point of wikipedia? Christ almighty." God love my sister.
5) The lady (and others like her) who talk on their cell phone while in a public restroom. I have a friend who told me this is a particular problem in men's rooms. But seriously, as I am using the restroom, I do NOT want to hear about how Sandy's dad isn't doing well and whether or not Jessica should date that guy or not.
6) Flakes. I hate flakes. Why disappoint me later when you can just disappoint me now?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Even though I stopped watching when Duchovny left the show (because as we all know, the shows where Mulder and Scully are apart kinda suck), I was convinced by friends and the upcoming movie premier to catch up on what I missed.
I missed the last two seasons of a kick ass show.
In college, I used to have The X-Files parties. Every Sunday, my girlfriends and I would convene at my apartment and we would turn off all the lights and watch the show. (Obviously, these were the days before the DVR, another thing that makes me happy.) We would sit quietly and only speak during the commercials. If the phone rang, I would pick it and slam it down, as Amanda once learned the hard way. During one season finale, I had a huge party and imbibed in a little too much red wine and passed out before the ending of the show. I missed the entire last episode and had to wait a whole summer to watch it. I caught the episode in Spain, but I understood as much of it there as I did in my drunken stupor. Ah, those were the days.
But when Mulder wasn't going to be a part of the show, I couldn't watch. I couldn't condone what Duchovny was doing! The horror. Leaving me to wonder what will happen to Scully, all alone. Who will save her when she goes to far to prove Mulder wrong? Who will tease her when she has a crush on a random vampire (played by a smoking hot Luke Wilson?) Who, my dear readers, will Scully flirt with in her Scully way? I couldn't bear the thought.
By the time Duchovny decided to come back to the show, I had already missed one season and couldn't get back into it to finish the series.
Now with the invention of Netflix (yet another thing that makes me happy) I can watch whatever TV show I want. And I do.
I simply can't get enough of it. Very rarely do I yearn to watch more of a TV show like I do The X-Files. I wait for my lunch to roll around so I can watch an episode. I don't go out to buy my lunch; I eat whatever is in the fridge so I don't waste precious minutes of my TV-watching hour. I start and wonder if somehow I can watch the rest of the episodes at my desk without anyone noticing.
I yearn for the day Mulder comes back on the show, but for now, I am happy watching one of the things that makes me happy.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
They put on an amazing show, and here are some of the pictures of our fantastic day & night in Berkeley.
I know, I know, you are all wondering why I would do such a thing, considering how successful it has been!!
But seriously. I have come to the realization that all of the rejection that online dating entails is really getting to me emotionally and physically, and frankly it is starting to affect my true friendships as well as my work.
One can only go on so many dates without success before one goes bat-shit crazy. I have gone bat-shit crazy. At least I am intelligent enough to realize that if someone were to institutionalize me, they wouldn't be wrong.
Although the Year of Yes would work for some people, those people are not me. I just simply cannot keep putting myself out there for the rejection that is waiting for me. Right now, my mind needs a break.
But keep posted. I will still be doing things. Just not a lot of dating things. Have a wonderful day, and remember how important all the relationships in your life are, not just the ones you had once or the ones you wish you had.
Monday, May 26, 2008
He asked me where I wanted to go, but I told him that I didn't care. I'm here in Reno all the time, and if he wanted to go someplace in particular, I had no problem with that. (Besides, I am always looking for new places to Yelp about.)
He chose Italian, 7:30. I arrived at said destination looking quite beautiful. Really, it isn't often I leave the house saying to myself, "Damn! I look GOOD!" Anyway, I arrived, looking mighty fine, and a man comes out of the restaraunt and introduces himself as Mr. Geologist. I did a double take.
It was the infamous bait and switch.
He looked NOTHING like his picture. NOTHING.
Honestly, he looks a lot like my brother-in-law, and while Nater is quite handsome, I have a hard time not thinking of him as my kid sister's husband. I.e. YOUNG.
Mr. Geologist brought an excellent bottle of wine, which I appreciated, and was great. The food was amazing and the service was fun and lively. (See review on Yelp.com) Dinner was nice.
I thought to myself, "I can get over the fact that he looks like a baby. Beggars can't be choosers."
So, that night I went home and found an email sitting in my inbox: I had a great time; we should do this again sometime; maybe next time I can cook and we can watch a movie; etc. etc. I replied that I had a great time too and was looking forward to seeing him again.
The next day, another email: "I'm free anytime this week, just let me know." I emailed him to tell him that Monday night I was free for dinner and a movie. This was Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon I called to talk to him and to confirm for Monday night.
I haven't heard back from him since the email I got from him Sunday morning.
Seriously, I am starting to wonder if every man I date gets some exotic flesh-eating disease and can't call me. Their fingers are rotting off; that is the only explanation I can come up with. Why else would they take the time and trouble to invite me over if they aren't going to make good on their word? It isn't that hard to just not email me at all.
Friday, May 23, 2008
I have date #6 tomorrow, so we'll see. More to come soon.