posted by curly mcdimple @ 12:23 AM :: permalink :: ::
November 25, 2007
stay out of the light
I hope you all had an enjoyable holiday. I had a lovely time with the McDimples, as always. Because I'm a bitchin' aunt, I braved the crowds and took The Adorable Seven-Year-Old Niece to the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Here are a few snaps from the event...
Um, is it just me or do Abby Cadabby, Scooby Doo and Snoopy all look like they're off to meet their maker?
Oh and speaking of sick and twisted, here's a random pair of shoes mashed under a gate...
I have many questions. For example, what happened to the person wearing them? Is this the punishment for being the last one out nowadays? Slamming the gate down on a person who isn't stepping lively? Is labeling someone a "rotten egg" too passé? Sheesh, that's harsh.
For your further entertainment, here's a great story of a family who celebrates "Snoopy Thanksgiving" every year. Complete with pictures of the unconventional feast! How awesome is that?
My lovely girlfriend (tee hee hee. I looooooove saying that) was kind enough to treat me to a manicure/pedicure for my birthday. Yes, I realize my birthday was last month. See, we planned to get our digits all dolled up a few weeks ago but I was stricken with the sinus funk so we had to postpone our pampering trip. We finally hit the salon this weekend. Check out the results:
Heads up! Blogger has been playing a maddening game of switcheroo with my most recent post. Sometimes an older typo-riddled version of it wrestles with -- and defeats -- the more recent cleaned-up version. It's like a shell game with very embarrassing results. Oh the shame of dangled participles and errant spacing!
Honestly, I do try to keep things tidy around here so kindly disregard any egregious assaults on the eyes and/or the English language. Blogger is to blame. It's not me nor my questionable handle on grammar... um, you know, in this case...
So I suppose it's about time for an update on the Glamour Puss situation.
Well, she's awesome. But you already know that because I've said it before. Several times, as I recall. But what you don't know is that I can now officially retire the "Dating" tag on posts related to her.
Translation: Curly and Glamour Puss sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Non-Third Grade-like Translation: She's officially my girlfriend.
The way we came about the decision was neither grandiose nor all that slick. But then again, the genesis of our relationship was neither of those things so it's only fitting that our coronation as a couple follow a similar socially-awkward path.
Some background...
I met Glamour Puss over the summer. When she caught my eye, I didn't dare make a move. Instead, I sort of "bookmarked" her for later consideration. I had no doubts that I dug her. I thought she was gorgeous from the get-go but I wasn't quite ready to pounce because, well, um, if I'm being honest, I'm too much of a pussy to pounce.
So, over the course of a few strictly-platonic emails, I began to develop a bit of a crush. Or, more accurately, I decided within hours of meeting her that Glamour Puss WOULD be mah woman and it was merely a matter of time before it came to pass.
So I set forth on a mission to get to know her better. I recruited friends to accompany me to events and activities where I knew I'd see her. My plan was to merely get on her radar and plant a few charm seeds with each interaction. A cute smile here, some witty banter there and before long, the time-release magic of my personality would kick in and she'd be equally smitten... Or, you know, so I hoped.
As planned, I ran into her a couple of times but didn't launch a full-scale assault. I took my time. I exhibited uncharacteristic patience and restraint. Actually, I had worked myself into a bit of a lather and I knew I'd be bitterly disappointed if I found out for certain that Glamour Puss wasn't quite ready to bump this jelly. Even though I was delaying possible gratification, it was more important to stave off possible rejection. So I clung to the warmth and safety of hope for just a little bit longer.
I made no moves. I just showed up at events and either waved at her or exchanged a quick hello. I would later find out that one of her friends called my approach "stealth." It was a much nicer way of saying that I was a hapless retard about the whole thing.
A few weeks later, the stars aligned and we found ourselves sitting shoulder to shoulder in the back garden of a pub. We chatted for a few hours and I seemed to be making headway. I was ready to unveil a portion of my interest.
As the evening wound down, I told Glamour Puss a wee fib and said that I would be walking in the same direction as her to catch a bus home. In reality, I walked about 15 blocks out of my way because I wanted to keep talking to her. I had also hoped that somewhere in that time and distance, I'd sprout a pair and ask her out on a date.
And I did. With a stammer in my voice and nary a hint of game, I mumbled something about maybe getting coffee sometime. When the notion wasn't shot down, I followed up with an equally wobbly request for her number and, much to my delight, Glamour Puss obliged. I contacted her a few days later and we made plans to have dinner.
It was the night of our date and after a healthy round of post-dinner smooching, Glamour Puss confessed that in the days prior, she wasn't entirely sure our evening out was officially a date. See, in my quest to pad myself from possible disappointment and not reveal too much of my hand, I had left plenty of room for confusion... 'Cause I'm smooth like that. However, any doubts were quickly laid to rest when, shortly after the dessert course was consumed, our faces were stuck together in one of the hotter first-date kisses on record.
So, fast forward to my birthday party a few weeks back... Glamour Puss's friend was in attendance and she casually busted out the "G" word in reference to me. She then quickly followed up with, "Wait, are we using that term yet?" Glamour Puss and I looked at each other and sort of shrugged.
Me: "Are we girlfriends?" Glamour Puss: "I don't know. Are we?" Me: "I dunno. Wanna be my girlfriend?" Glamour Puss: "Sure." Me: "Um, yeah, so I guess we're using that term."
Not exactly an "In Your Eyes"-blasting-from-the-radio type of moment but who cares? The result is the same and just as satisfying. At long last, I -- the perpetual single, the loner, Dottie, the rebel -- got the girl. Correction: I got the woman... an evolved, mature woman who is all sorts of lovely and amazing. She's beautiful, intelligent, talented, kind and generous. She possesses a wonderfully dry sense of humor infused with a healthy dose of cynicism. She likes that I'm a doofus. She charms me without even trying. She inspires a goofy grin on my face and a persistent good mood, two things that have often been in short supply in my life. She makes delicious baked ziti. She encourages me to eat organic. Oh and she has bone structure to kill for and quite possibly the sexiest mouth I've ever seen. Hubba hubba.
So yeah, that's what's new with Glamour Puss. She's, like, cool and crap and I really dig her. Go me.
Update: Points are awarded to The Lovely Jess for identifying the title of this post as a song by Reel Big Fish. She's a clever one, that The Lovely Jess. My references are never lost on her... um, except when I cite showtunes. She has no interest, you see. Anyhoo, "She Has a Girlfriend Now" is one of my favorites and as a big ol' lez, I consider it an anthem of sorts. Kindly give it a whirl, won't you?
