Twenty Four At Heart

There's Always a Twist

Life is funny sometimes.

Last week I was worried about what I would write about during my surgery recovery.  I knew my life would border on coma-inducing boredom for a few weeks.  My big event each day is taking a shower and smiling at my new (still taped up) boobs in the bathroom mirror as I do so.  Showering exhausts me to the point of needing a nap.  And so goes my recovery ....

I mean, really, what could possibly happen in my always-eventful life if I am just sitting at home day after day?

I just don't think it's possible for me to have a boring life ... or week, for that matter.  Out of the blue, after twenty years of no contact, I got an email from my old college boyfriend this week.  Do any of you remember when I wrote about him (Big Weenie) last March?

Since Big Weenie's initial contact this week we've exchanged a few emails.  I've got to say the whole back-in-touch thing feels surreal.  People from my past live on in my memory as if time has stood still, but now reality has burst my bubble and reminded me I'm not twenty anymore.  For that matter, neither is Big Weenie.

By the way, he's married; I'm married.  

Big Weenie has three kids; I have three kids.

My kids are nearly grown and his are babies.

(For the record, he's older than I am.  I feel a strong need to point that out.)

Big Weenie found me via Facebook.  I opened a facebook account a long time ago, and had never looked at it again.  I simply don't have the time for facebook, twitter, writing 24, and my real life.  Nonetheless, he found me and his email asked, "Want to catch up?"

It's been twenty years ... do you want to catch up?

Inexplicably I felt the urge to laugh and cry at the exact same instant, and yet I don't understand why.

Modern technology is a funny thing, isn't it?  A person's current reality and past can collide in an instant.

I gave Big Weenie a link to Twenty Four At Heart.  The next day I got another email saying he had logged on to 24 and read about my accident.  It had shaken him up quite a bit.

I know a lot of you have had similar experiences.  I've read about people finding lost family members via the Internet.  Some of you have written me emails about reconnecting with old friends and boy/girlfriends after many years of no contact.

I guess I'm looking for feedback today.  Is it a good thing?  Have you had a similar experience?  What are the positives?  What are the negatives?  At what point does it feel normal and stop feeling so surreal.

And, oh yeah, hi Big Weenie!  I hope you still have a sense of humor.  Welcome to Twenty Four At Heart.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Torturer Interview

The following interview consists of questions submitted by my readers for my famed physical therapist, The Torturer.  The interview setting was a cafe where we had lunch yesterday.  I reminded him that all of these questions were not my questions, but reader's questions.  (Readers designated by a Q, his answers by a T).

24:  First of all, thank you for subjecting yourself to this being such a good sport.

T:  Are you going to change all of my answers to say what you want?

24:  I won't change any of your answers.

T:  I am a professional.

24:  I know that.

T:  You don't portray me as being a professional on your blog.

24:  hmmm.

T:  Well??

24:  Why don't we get started now? 

(Torturer rolls his eyes.)

Q:  Are taser guns a legal and acceptable form of treatment at PT?

T:  Dammit, that's exactly what I mean!

24:  Can you just answer my reader's questions?

T:  Everything is legal and acceptable when it comes to you, 24.

Q:  Where can people get a taser?

T:  You have to be a licensed medical professional to get a taser.

Q:  How do you handle your 4 girls and would you like another?

T:  I have a lot of patience.  And no, thank you.

24:  (raised eyebrow)  You have a lot of patience?

T:  Except maybe with you.

Q:  A reader asked if making 24 cry gives you a "chub"?

T:  (laughs) I always have one.

(both of us laugh)

T:  Look at that 24, you're blushing!  I didn't think anything embarrassed you.

Q.  How many years does it take to become a torturer and do you get paid a lot?

T:  Probably about 6+ years, and no I don't get paid nearly enough.

Q:  When hot women come into PT do they get more attention?

T:  It depends on how busy I am. 

Q:  Do you date patients?

T:  No.  Never.  I've been dating people who then start coming in as patients, but I don't date patients.

Q:  Is 24 funny in real life?

T:  We laugh a lot.  She thinks she is.

Q:  Is torturing part of your personality or do you have to work hard at it?

T:  I think I'm a natural born torturer.

Q:  What are you looking for in a woman besides a Sugar Mama?

T:  A big heart, a tight ass, and big tits.  Not necessarily in that order.

(24 mutters "pig")

Torturer looks wounded and adds, "A big heart is important to me."

Q:  Who makes the better patient, men or women?

T:  Women.  Women are tougher.  Men are babies.  Also, men wait too long to come in.

Q:  Do you ever give Money Town women exercises to make their thighs get bigger?

T:  (Laughs)  No, but maybe I should start.

Q:  Are you a compassionate person?

T:  Of course.

(24 rolls eyes)

Q:  Did you know people with marshmallow bodies can be nice too?

T:  Some of my best friends are marshmallows.

Q:  Are the Money Town women as bad as 24 says?

T:  Worse!  Some of them are nice to look at though.  Most are fun to laugh at.  They're all high maintenance.  Well, at least 80% of them.  There's always that 80/20 rule.

Q:  Do you agree with 24's portrayal of Money Town?

T:  Yes.  Absolutely.

Q:  What made you decide to become a torturer?

T:  I'm a hands on kind of guy.  I used to be an athlete and now I work with a lot of athletes.  I like that.

Q:  What's the funniest thing that has ever happened when you were torturing someone?

T:  There was a pretty hot patient.  She went into a private room to put a medical gown on.  When I came in she had put it on with the opening in the front.  She was standing there with her boobs hanging out.  I told her I'd step outside for a minute and maybe she could turn the gown around to face the other way.  It was pretty funny.

Q:  Where were you raised?

T:  Southern California

Q:  What will you do when 24 graduates from PT and doesn't come in anymore?

T:  Have a party.

(24: "ass"  The Torturer laughs)

Q:  What do you do for fun when you aren't torturing someone?

T:  I'm mainly about torturing people.  I have an old truck I'm rebuilding.  I like to read Twenty Four at Heart.

Q:  Do you have a secret crush on 24?

T:  Everyone does.

Q:  Where is 24 the most ticklish?

T:  Someone should ask Briefcase that one.

Q:  Do the two of you ever get along or do you always fight?

T:  (grins)  We get along ... for periods of time.

Q:  Is 24 really your favorite patient?

T:  Of course.

Q:  Are there Money Town women who come to PT just to get close to your hot self?

T:  Probably not.

Q:  What do you do when 24 cries at PT?

T:  It depends on the situation.  Sometimes I hand her a Kleenex.  Other times I give her hugs.  Sometimes I kick her in the ass and tell her not to have a pity party.  It depends on what's going on with her.

Q:  Do you even CARE when she cries?

T:  Of course.  She's gone through a lot.  It's like a marathon and it's my job to get her to the finish line.  It can be painful and difficult to get there.  You fall along the way sometimes.  I help her get up when she falls.  Sometimes I yell at her to get up by herself.  It depends on what I think will be best for her.

Q:  Doesn't it pull at your heartstrings?

T:  I have compassion and empathy.  But it is separate from what I do.

Q.  Do you sleep well at night after hurting 24?

T:  Yes.  I'm helping her.  She's a lot better than she was.

Q:  What is the most bizarre injury you've ever treated?

T:  Hmmm.  It might have been the guy who broke his ankle jumping over a fence while running from the police.  The injury wasn't bizarre, but how he got it was.

Q:  What is the most annoying or stupid thing you've seen a Money Town woman do or say?

T:  Wow.  There are too many to even narrow it down.

Q:  What do you do to de-stress after torturing people?

T:  Torturing people is how I de-stress.

Q:  What do you do if you're really attracted to a hot patient and have to touch her in a lot of places.

T:  I touch her in a lot of places.  Professionally, of course.

Q:  Do you make house calls?

T:  Only in very special cases.

Q:  What's 24 like when she's on drugs?

T: (laughs)  Oh the stories I could tell!  Should I tell?  

(24 shakes head 'no' vigorously)

Well, she's a lot of fun when she's on drugs.  She talks nonstop and I don't think she remembers a thing she says.

Q:  Do you think telling 24 she's got a body like a marshmallow motivates her?

T:  OK, hold on.  I never used the word marshmallow.  She made an interpretation of what I said.  After all her surgeries I just suggested it was time to get back in shape.

Q:  What kind of torture do you wish you could perform but can't because it's illegal?

T:  I've been tempted to strangle 24 a few times.

Q: What was the most outstanding temper tantrum 24 ever threw?

T:  Hmmm.  They've kind of blended together.  She's gotten really mad at me a few times.  She stormed out once and didn't come back.  Canceled all her appointments.  I had to call her and talk her into returning.  I don't even remember what I did to get her that pissed at me.  I did something.   

Q:  What do you do when 24 makes you mad?

T:  I push her harder.

Q:  Have you ever yelled at 24?

T:  More than once.  One time I was across the room from her.  24 told one of my techs she couldn't do something I'd just asked her to do.  I was having a bad day and I yelled, "Just DO it!"  There was a little old lady looking on.  A brand new patient.  Her eyes got huge and she looked petrified.  Like I'm an ogre.  I apologized and told her, "I'm sorry.  I don't talk to patients that way.  Only 24.  I've known her forever and she's the only one I talk to like that."  The new patient never came back.  I think I scared the crap out of her. 

Q:  What does 24 do to make you mad? (Author edit:  Besides not following your orders to do things which are beyond her ability and incredibly painful!)

T:  She likes to socialize a lot.  Too much.  She isn't at PT to become best friends with the office staff and all the patients.  It distracts from what she should be doing.  Also, now they all want to chat with her and not do what they should be doing either. 

Q:  So what do the people who work in your office think of 24?

T:  (Sighs)  They like her.  And they like that she brings in treats for them.  (pause)  They don't know her as well as I do.

Q:  Do you treat all your patients like 3 year olds?

T:  Just 24.  If you knew her as well as I do you'd understand.

Girl's Night Out

Before I get into today's post, I wanted to cover a few housekeeping topics.  

First of all, thank you for all the comments and emails lately.  I love how interactive this site is becoming and I love getting to know all of you through your input.  The Torturer has been laid up for a few days.  (He's fine - no worries!)  He will be torturing me today, but I won't be interviewing him until tomorrow.  He has requested lots of alcohol for the interview process.  I will post the interview either on Wednesday or Thursday of this week depending on how long it takes to completely rewrite compile his responses.

Secondly, several of you have given me awards and/or tagged me with memes over the last few months.  I am so honored to be thought of and I love you.  I am also a total flake when it comes to both awards and memes and I am hopelessly behind.  In fact, I'm so far behind in posting about them I am embarrassed to post any now because I'm afraid I will forget one, offend someone, etc.  I appreciate it so much every time you honor me or this website in any manner.  Thank you and please forgive me for my flakiness in this area of blogging.  At some point I will either get caught up or completely give up.

Finally, I have a lot going on right now on the legal front.  My trial date is looming about one week in front of me.  It is occupying an inordinate amount of my time and stressing me out.  I am very behind on responding to emails and on visiting the blogs of many friends.  I hope to be caught up soon.  There just haven't been enough hours in each day to get everything done that I'd like to. 

OK, so now you've heard all my excuses and blah, blah, blah disclaimers.  Are you still there?  Or have you fallen asleep?

My friend Nike has a new job.  She is working in a fabulous, cute, amazing, little furniture boutique a couple days each week.  This is incredibly lucky for me.  Remember last week when I mentioned my half finished house?  Well, Nike apparently has been mentally picking out pieces of furniture she feels would be "perfect" for my house while she's working.  I stopped into her shop to visit her on Friday and walked out with a much needed coffee room table for my living room.  How did that happen?  Now I can scratch one item off my house to-do list.

There's a fun restaurant near Nike's shop and we agreed to meet there for a glass of wine once she got off work.  We enjoy going to this particular restaurant because they have a large outdoor porch and it is a fun, casual place to hang out on warm evenings.  (We still have hot weather here.)  Nike showed up with three friends who also work in the same boutique.  As it turns out, they are wonderful, warm, real women.  You know, as opposed to fake, superficial, plastic women which are a dime a dozen around here.

I arrived sporting a little cleavage and Nike commented she was surprised because she doesn't see "them, I mean it" very often from me.  (T-shirts don't show a lot of cleavage now do they?)  

I had so much fun meeting Nike's friends.  Nike ordered a  glass  bottle  couple bottles of wine.  We sat outdoors in the warm air with a nice, balmy, breeze blowing while we drank our wine.  It's a bit of a blur but one of the ladies made an array of appetizers appear somewhere along the line.  (Have I told you I get drunk if I have more than one glass?!) 

Nike told my new friends about Twenty Four at Heart and they began sharing funny Orange County stories with me.  These women were a kick.  They had me in stitches with accounts of Swingers and Stepford Wives.  I can't wait to hear more of their great stories.  We even talked about trying to infiltrate the Money Town Swingers group just long enough to get a few photos for blogging purposes.  If we do?  Those pictures would be of fully dressed Swingers and we would not stay long enough to see otherwise.  Just in case you're wondering ...

By the way, if I do go undercover and all of a sudden go missing?  Tell the police to "wear white" and show up at local bars to find me.  That's how the Swingers identify each other in the bars.  It's called "Wear White Thursday."  Creative people, aren't they?

Eventually the evening ended.  Nike and I needed a little alone time to get caught up so we made one more stop on our way home.  We went to a bar just outside of Money Town for one more (ugh!) glass of wine.  Can we all stop and spell h-a-n-g-o-v-e-r?

By this time the bar-flies were out in full force.  Nike and I were buzzed enough to whip out my camera.  We wanted to capture our favorite female and favorite male at the bar.  Everyone was drunk enough to not even notice the flash going off.

This cougar woman won our award for best ho outfit of the night.  We got the impression she was out on the hunt for some serious action.  And yes, those are diamonds around her ankle.  This is, after all, Money Town.

 

In contrast, there was a man at the bar who was a stunning example of Money Town trash.  He was out on the hunt too.  He thought this classy t-shirt would help him get lucky with the Money Town ladies.

What do you think ladies?  Doesn't that just make you want to go home with him?  It just gets me hot when guys dress like that.  He might be a multi-millionaire.  Money, however, can't buy class.  Really, who buys this shirt?  And then wears it out to bars to pick up on women?

Nike was trying to take his picture without him noticing.  She decided she would "pretend" to be taking mine and really focus on him.  The problem is Nike was a little drunk.  When I got home and wanted to see the pictures of Mr. Classy, instead I found several shots like this one.

And now you know what a slightly drunk Twenty Four At Heart looks like.

This Will Be Fun!

Today I thought we'd try something a little different.  It won't work unless you are willing to participate, but I'm guessing you'll want to.  I'm hoping you'll want to.

A few months ago one of my readers was corresponding with me on email.  She suggested I interview The Torturer here on Twenty Four At Heart.  It might have been right about the time when he volunteered to be Ms. Plastic's personal trainer.  I laughed at the idea at the time.  More recently we came up with the idea of letting you, my readers, come up with interview questions for him.

Here's The Torturer:

 

Well, not really, but close enough.

Here is some basic information I've given you in the past about him:  He's evil. 

Just kidding.  (Sort of.)

Let's try again.  He is a physical therapist but he now runs a personal training program also.  He owns his own business and people actually have to work for him.  He broke up with his girlfriend awhile back.  Maybe you want to be his next one?

The Torturer is quite verbal about telling me I'm out of shape and have the body of a marshmallow.  He taught me how to roll a ball again (like a one year old) after my worst surgery.  He has seen my fat dyed orange from fake tanning lotion.  He's also seen my orange feet.  He has tried to teach me to meditate through my pain and failed.  He's totally kicked my ass with some of his personal training shit.

Other fun facts I may, or may not, have mentioned.  I have actually known The Torturer for over thirteen years.  He is a divorced father of four girls.  The youngest two are twins.  The Torturer is 47 years old.  He has a lot of patients from Money Town. 

Many of the Money Town women think he's hot.  They pursue him relentlessly and in ridiculous, but humorous ways.  (He is soooooo going to kill me for sharing that!)  Clearly they don't know him as well as I do.  He says he wants a "sugar mama," but I don't think he really does.  The Money Town women seem to turn him off.  Something about being superficial and high maintenance?  I can't imagine what he means.  

I have sworn at The Torturer, cried on him, begged him to stop hurting me, and laughed until I cried with him.  More swearing and crying than laughing.  I have been drugged senseless in front of him on numerous occasions.  He has repeatedly told me I'm much more fun when I'm drugged up.  He's a real sweet talker, isn't he?

Sometimes he gets angry.  For example, when I throw temper tantrums (who, me?), storm out of PT, and/or quit forever and ever play hooky.  That kind of shit really pisses him off.  The office staff has been given strict orders to never allow me to cancel an appointment or let me leave the building without approval.  (Yes, I am treated like a three year old and I have no idea why he feels that's necessary?!) 

I have possibly verbally abused him when I was in excruciating pain.  For some reason he still puts up with me.  I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he gets paid to do so.   (Note to self: pay The Torturer sometime soon!  Or maybe just sometime?) 

By the way, he isn't ever always nice. 

Here's an example.  (I could give you pages of examples, but I won't.)  Just yesterday he hooked me up to a taser gun and told me to lift my arm.  When I couldn't do it, he shot me with the taser.  When I screamed, "F*$K that hurts!" he said, "I don't care about your pain, I only care about function."

Oh yes, he did.  And I told him right then I was going to publicize his comment for the entire Internet to read.  Even those readers in far away places like India and Vietnam and China now know about it.  (Hi far away readers!)  Was he concerned about bad publicity?  No, not at all.  He just rolled his eyes and sighed.  He does that a lot when he's around me.

And Torturer?  I have no function.  Still. 

Can you believe he's yelled at me?  And scolded me?  He has even been (gasp!) exasperated with me!  Many, many times.

He sleeps well at night after hurting me that same day.  (I've asked!) 

He reads Twenty Four At Heart and tells me when he doesn't like a post.  He's also told me when he thinks "it's the best writing [I've] ever done." 

He's not shy with his opinions.  Clearly.

Why is it when I'm trying to tell you how evil he is, it sounds like I'm maybe part of the problem?  I'm sure that isn't the case.  I'm the best patient the man's ever had.  I just know I'm his all time favorite. 

No, really I am.

You can leave any question you would like for The Torturer in my comments section today.  I will then interview him with your questions and report his answers back to you sometime next week.  You can ask him anything, but I can't promise he'll answer every question.

Have fun, be creative, and don't be shy! 

Money Town Priorities

We left off yesterday with me standing in the Money Town Starbucks with an acquaintance named Jodi.  Jodi is a Money Town resident and was delighted to run into me.  She peppered me with questions regarding my current post-car accident status.  Jodi made it clear I needed her help.  I asked my readers what type of help you thought a Money Town resident like Jodi might think I need.

Can I just stop and say right here that every single comment yesterday brought a smile to my face?!  What an awesome group of readers.  No one got the exact answer correct, but several of you were close with "makeover."  The funniest comment came from Goodfather, who went on a rant about the Howell's from Gilligan's Island.  As you'll see today, Jodi actually had two important suggestions for me.   

Also, once again, here's my disclaimer.  There are a lot of nice, normal people in Orange County.  There are also a lot of very nice people in Money Town.  The normal people, however, are not as fun to write about.  The people who epitomize the spoiled rich are just plain fun to share with you.  I love my real Money Town friends.  Rich or not, they aren't like Jodi.

Jodi inquired first about my arm. 

"I heard your arm doesn't work, is that really true?"

Yes, Jodi, it's true.

Then Jodi wanted to see for herself.

"Well, how far can you lift it?  Can you show me?  Can you bend your elbow?  How do you take care of your kids?  How do you put on make-up and blow dry your hair?"

I can raise it this much.  Yes I can bend my elbow and use my hand.  I can't lift anything, open doors, pull, push or carry anything.  I take care of my kids as best I can and they're still alive so I think I'm doing okay.  Make-up and blow drying my hair are challenges, but I haven't died yet from bad hair.

Then came the questions about the lawsuit.

"Do you have a good lawyer?  I bet you're going to make a FORTUNE off this?!  How much do you think you'll get?"  (All said with a gleam in her eye as if this experience has been a wonderful opportunity for me.)

Can I say something here?  For friends who ask me how the lawsuit is going because they care about me, about the stress of the legal process, thank you.  I appreciate your concern.  It's stressful.  For those acquaintances who want to dig into my financial status, I don't appreciate it.  And I'm an intelligent enough person to know the difference.

And yes, I have a good lawyer.  No, I am not going to make a fortune off of this.  Also, I may get nothing and it's none of Jodi's business anyway.

Then Jodi gave me a look-over and grimaced.  I knew some flattery was on it's way.

"This whole thing has taken a toll on you."

(Thank you for telling me I look like shit, Jodi!  Thank you very much, I appreciate the input.  Jeez, do ya think five surgeries in two years might do that?  Jodi is very insightful!  And thoughtful.  And helpful.  And kind, did I mention kind?)

"I have the greatest personal shopper.  You would love her.  She can even come to your house if you want so you don't have to go anywhere.  She can fix up your wardrobe in no time flat."

The problem with Jodi's thinking?  I like my jeans and t-shirts.  This "wardrobe"?  It's the same one I had before the car accident.  Maybe I even have a few new t-shirts in the mix now.

Jodi did not stop there.  Mentioning the idea of her personal shopper coming by my house reminded her of something else.

"How's your house, weren't you doing a lot of work on it?"

Well, yes I was midway through the process when I was in the accident.  My house has remained frozen in time ever since.  (Half painted, half furnished, not decorated in the least.  It has been more than I can take on.)  In the grand scheme of things, decorating my house has fallen to the bottom of the list of things which are important.

Jodi was aghast.

"You haven't finished your house?"

In Money Town, it is very important to have a showpiece of a home.  A lot of the houses feel cold and unlived in.  My house is nothing, if not lived in.  As far as my half completed decorating?  Oh well.  Maybe someday I'll be able to take it on again.  I'm not there yet.  This seemed to be beyond Jodi's comprehension.  A half-assed house is just not acceptable.

Jodi immediately recommended an interior decorator she knows.  It is a woman who also lives in Money Town "and she's done a ton of people's houses." 

Then came the kicker.  Jodi proceeded to tell me all about the gossip this decorator has passed on to her.  The woman is going from home to home decorating Money Town houses.  While she's working in homes, she's making mental notes of gossip to share with others.

Jodi started to tell me who is having marital problems, who is considering a divorce, who is having teenage problems, and what type of problems those are.  In addition, Jodi knew what quantities of money each family had in the way of decorating funds.  Jodi had specifics.  Specifics about people I know, and some of my friends at that.

I cut her short.  I don't want to hear gossip via anyone's interior decorator.  Thank you very much anyway.  The invasion of privacy crosses a line.  I'm not immune to enjoying a juicy tidbit in the right context, but something is profoundly wrong about trusting someone to work in your home and having them abuse that trust.

"She's just fabulous you must call her," she said.

I'm not kidding.  She said that right after disclosing all the gossip this woman is spreading around.  Personally, I plan to stick with my casual "wardrobe" and my half-ass house. 

I Admit, I'm a Failure

Today I'm providing you with a rambling post.  It might even seem to change directions mid-post.  But it is all in an effort to get you to tomorrow's post.  I know this seems to make no sense.  Trust me, ok?  Just ramble along with me for awhile.  It might end up being fun.  Eventually.  OK, here goes .... 

I don't know why I'm missing girly genes, but I am.  When I was a kid I struggled with this at times.  All the girly girls wanted to spend time shopping and playing with make-up and I wanted to read books, write stories, and play baseball with my older brother and his friends.  Not much has changed over the years. 

I have close, wonderful, female friends but I still turn to my male friends first.  If I have a choice of going shopping or sitting on the beach with a book, I'll choose the book every time.  I'm an introvert, but if I know you and trust you I won't hold back a thing.  I suppose I'm an outgoing introvert.  (I love oxymorons, don't you?) 

I've come to accept myself over the years.  I confuse a lot of other people though.  One of the benefits of getting a little older is you truly know who you are and come to terms with it.  There are, of course, a lot of negatives to being who I am.  I don't have a very nice wardrobe.  I prefer shorts or jeans and t-shirts to any other clothes.  I throw on mascara, but rarely any other make-up so I am far from the most "put together" female around. 

I also don't filter my thoughts very often when I speak.  In other words, if it goes through my brain it most likely comes out of my mouth.  It's a very helpful trait for offending people, and it also allows me to  insert my foot into my mouth on a regular basis.  The positive is, I don't play games.  Ever.  If I'm feeling it, you know it.  Never mind that I might feel differently in a week, you always know exactly where I am right then. 

In spite of my many and obvious flaws, I actually have some friends.  Remarkable, isn't it?  Some of them I've even had for many years. 

Yesterday was a spectacular day here in Orange County.  I spent a good deal of the morning with The Torturer, but he let me leave a little earlier than usual.  (Yay!)  The day greeted me with joy.  The air was crystal clear, and my car thermometer read 93 as I drove away from PT.  I decided to stop at the Money Town Starbucks for an iced tea on my way home.

I ran into an acquaintance while at Starbucks.  She is a Money Town resident and although we are not close friends, we are friendly. 

Jodi seemed very excited to see me.  She was more excited to see me than I was to see her.  Don't get me wrong, Jodi is a nice enough person.  We just don't have a lot in common.  Her Money Town status and possessions are very important to her.  My shorts and t-shirts are not very important to me.  We're very different people.

Whenever I run into someone I haven't seen for awhile the routine is pretty much the same.  It was no different with Jodi yesterday.  I got a zillion questions about my recovery from the car accident.  Everyone wants to know how I am, can I use my arm, can they see me try to move it, etc.  I think they all need to see with their own eyes what I can and can't do.  Maybe this helps them to grasp it all, or more likely, it gives them something to gossip about. 

Then, always, and I do mean always, the questions begin about the lawsuit.  Particularly from my Money Town friends.  Everyone is just dying to know if I'm going to become an overnight millionaire.  They want to know if I'm going to become one of them.  They do their best to see if they can get me to mention a dollar figure.

It gets old. 

I may not have much of a brain-mouth filter, but I do have enough sense not to discuss my finances with casual acquaintances.  My sitemeter tells me I've got a lot of Money Town readers, however.  For all of them, let me offer this.  I am not going to become one of you, and all the money in the world would not change that.  (Please re-read the first four paragraphs of today's post if you need clarification.)  In addition, all the money in the world would not make what I've gone through any better.  In the least.  Lastly, the outcome of the case has not been determined yet.  I may get nothing. 

Stop asking.

Jodi decided she could be helpful to me.  She asked me a lot of questions at Starbucks and determined that my life is a mess and in need of her guidance.  What do you think?  Do you think Jodi was offering to help out with some of the things I can't manage with one working arm?  Do you think Jodi was offering friendship, moral support, or anything along those lines? 

Let's see who can get closest to guessing what Jodi thinks I need help with.  Leave me a comment and tell me what you think the priorities in Money Town might be.  Tomorrow I'll tell you my Jodi story and we'll see who had the best guess.  Think about it for a minute.  You live in Money Town.  Your life is cushioned and sheltered.  A non-girly acquaintance is in a car accident and goes through five surgeries.  It's over two years later, but you decide suddenly, and for the first time, you want to help.  What do you think a Money Town resident would feel is important?      

Another Sex Post?

Remember last week when we were discussing male/female communication, sex, and all that kind of stuff?  One day I even asked my readers what made them feel romantic.  I got tons of input which was followed by a post on foreplay.  Remember?

Since then several of you have sent me some great emails.  Helena sent me a very funny cartoon, but when I tried to format it to share with all of you, the text didn't show up well enough to post.  Some of you sent me stories about your lives and relationships.  I loved reading all of it.  One reader recommended a very (!) hot romance novel for me to read.  I don't normally read romance novels, and it was ... ahem, very graphic.  <Blush>  

By the way, I did finish that book.  <Blush again>

Briefcase was out of town at the time.  After I read it, I had a lot of pent up frustration energy so I spent a lot of time ordering sex toys on the Internet working out on our elliptical.  Who knew a trashy, romance novel could be so good for my health?

Really, all men should probably buy trashy romance novels for their wives periodically.  The one recommended to me was more, um, detailed than most.  It was also, admittedly, mindless.  I don't think the purpose of a romance novel is to challenge the intellect.  It is probably a good thing I didn't finish reading it the day our hot pool boy was coming by.  Shhh!  Don't tell Briefcase I said that!

Note to male readers:  Buy your significant female a trashy, graphic, romance novel once in awhile.  Be home when she's reading it, and especially when she's done reading it.  She can improve her mind with Hemingway on a different day.  She'll jump you when she's done if it's a decent author.  I promise.  Or is that just me?  <Blush, Blush, Blush!!> 

It wouldn't hurt you to read her porn trash book also.  I know, you think it would be boring.  It's so beneath you, isn't it?  Except it might give you incredible insight into what turns women on.  Consider it.  No one ever needs to know you read her book.  If nothing else, you'll learn how to rip a bodice romantically.  Ha!

What happened to this post?  It was not supposed to be about any of this.  I am embarrassing myself all over the place today.  How unusual.

Internet?  For quite some time many of you have been asking for more hot guy photos.  One of my readers, Joanne, sent along some photos.  (Thank you Joanne!)  I don't think she'll mind in the least if I share.  And, I do believe I've said enough for one day.  Enjoy the pics!  Due to all the email responses I'm getting on these pics, let me add the following.  They are twin brothers.  I don't know if they are gay or straight.  And really, who cares?! 

 

 

You're Not Invisible

There used to be a principal at our local middle school ("junior high" in some parts of the country) who coined the phrase, "You're not invisible."  It became a joke with all the young teens because he would say it repeatedly with every school announcement, at every school assembly, and at every opportunity he had.  He started this after the Columbine tragedy.  I believe his intentions were positive.  He wanted to make every student feel they were important, and noticed, regardless of their social clique at school.

So they wouldn't come blow up the school. 

The kids hated it, of course.  The number of "invisible" jokes they came up with staggered the mind.  In addition, the teens all said this particular administrator was a "perv" and before long the jokes ran along the lines of the Invisible Pervert.  Most of us know how kids are at the ages of 12-14, and it isn't ever always nice and/or respectful.  The kid rumors ran the gamut but basically said Mr. Principal spent way too much time with the attractive girls at the school.  Other kids noticed and many were telling their parents, "What?  Does the Perv think he's invisible?  We can all see how he acts with the girls!"

I doubt if the man really was a perv because surely a teacher would have reported it if he was.  (? "Mom logic" or denial ?)  However, I told TR I was writing about him today and her response was, "That guy was a creep and a perv."  She hasn't seen him in seven years and her opinion still seems strong and sure.   

Yesterday a girlfriend of mine told me she is invisible.  The resignation, sadness, and grief in her eyes showed as she said it.  The words,  "You're not invisible," were out of my mouth faster than you can say Perverted Principal.  I was going to write something funny and light today, but I can't shake her words.  I am haunted by them now, hours later.  I am stymied by my inability to prove to her that she is, in fact, the exact opposite of invisible.  She is vibrant.

I will call my friend Sue.  Sue is someone I met around nine months ago at physical therapy.  Like all the patients there, she has some health issues.  She has come and gone a few times, and is currently back at PT.  I am in my forties.  She is older than me, I would guess in her late sixties.  Sue looks better than most women do in their early fifties though.  I really mean that, she looks great.  She exudes energy, and joy, and her laughter fills the place every time she is there.  She has a fantastic sense of humor.

Selfishly, I admit, it is easier for me to go to PT when I know she'll be there.  We laugh together.  We give the technicians and The Torturer a hard time.  She is my partner in crime.  We are a comedy team.  Or so we think.  The Torturer repeatedly tells the secretaries to stop scheduling us at the same time because he "can't take it" when we're together.  He doesn't mean it.  He sees the smiles on our faces and we make him smile too.  It makes everything easier when Sue is there.

Sue has been one of my biggest cheerleaders.  No matter what she has gone through, she is constantly checking on me, my progress, and cheering me on.  She watched me go through some of my roughest days.  She actually went up and scolded The Torturer once when I was going through the worst of it.  Sue was irate.  She told him he'd "better not" make me cry "one more time" because she was DONE watching him hurt me.  How's that for a friend?  The Torturer looked shocked that he was being angrily chewed out by a patient on my behalf.  The memory makes me smile to this day.  I think that is the day we officially became friends.

Sue feels invisible.

She says you get "to an age" and no one even sees you anymore.  At all.  She was referring to life in general, but we also talked specifics.  She's not married and she said it would be nice "just to have a companion."  She thinks all the men are looking for young hard-bodies.  She said men don't even see her in front of them.  She laughed and said, of course, she is looking at all the young hard-body men too.  She's particularly fond of men with nice asses.  (Who isn't?)  In addition, "Give me someone pre-prostate problems," she said.  Yeah, she's nearly seventy and she wants a man who can deliver like a 30 year old in the bedroom.

Do you see why I love her? 

Sue and I also discussed how hard it is for a woman her age to get hired by anyone.  I mentioned my concern about getting back in the work force.  Who will hire me with one working arm?  (The answer is no one.)  She countered by saying employers find all sorts of reasons not to hire her.  "They're afraid I'll drop dead on the spot," she said.  She meant it.  Her disability runs out in a few months and she's afraid she'll never find another job.  Her fear is real.

Before we parted for the day, Sue was urging me to live my life to it's fullest.  The unspoken was, "before it's too late and you're invisible too."  She is one of the most alive, vibrant, funny people I know.  She carries a huge presence everywhere she goes.  She feels invisible.  I just can't get over it.

Readers? 

Just For Smiles

Happy Labor Day!  I don't expect a lot of readers today since it's a holiday here in the U.S.  I wanted to have something here for those of you who do show up though.

Since we've been having a lot of discussions about sex, the gender gap, etc. lately, I went looking for pictures along those lines.  All of these were found on the Funnyjunk website.  This first is an example of how early male curiosity begins.  The second photo proves that men are "all the same", royalty or not.  The last photo is just a picture of a (?) couch.

 

Lascivious vs. Affectionate

How nice would it be if we could solve all the male/female communication problems right here on Twenty Four At Heart?  Or maybe just minimize the gender gap somewhat?  Earlier this week I opened a can of worms when I discussed (here and here) an article I read which stated men read sex into the majority of female communication. 

The posts brought forth a lot of emotion and a lot of varying opinions.  Some of it was funny, some of it was angry, and some of it was heartfelt.  Every comment and every email I received made it very clear to me that the sexes are miles apart in many ways.  I hate to speak in generalities, but in a blog forum, I have to.  Individually you and I could sit down and discuss particulars, but I am not able to do that here.  That's disclaimer number one.

Disclaimer number two is that I have always had a fair number of male friends.  I attribute it to growing up in a neighborhood with a lot of boys and very few girls.  I relate well to men.  That being said, I have many platonic male friends even now.  If I'm misguided in regard to those friendships (and I don't believe I am), I'd rather stay oblivious and continue viewing them in the light I currently do.

Disclaimer number three:  To my male readers ... I am quite sure that you are all wonderful partners to your significant others.  None of the generalities about men in these gender gap posts are pointed at you specifically, so please don't get defensive.  I am quite sure you court your loved one with sweet words and tender touches and that none of this applies to you whatsoever.

OK, have I covered my ass now? 

To the female reader who asked me why men like blow jobs?  I am not a man, so I can't speak for men.  If I had to hypothesize, I would say because it feels good.  Just a wild guess.

Regarding the question about butt cracks possibly interfering with the style/look of your dress when you go commando, I refer you back to my response in the comment section of yesterday's post.

To all men everywhere?  There was a recurring theme in the feedback I got from women.  We hate to be groped.  Hate it.  I'm sure you never do this, so please tell all your male friends who may not be as enlightened as you are.  When we are standing in the kitchen slaving over lovingly preparing a meal for you, don't walk by and squeeze our ass so hard we jump in the air.  Also, we aren't cows and don't get turned on in the least when you can't resist reaching out and squeezing our tits hard enough to milk us. 

Not that Briefcase has ever done anything of the sort.  Ahem ....

Men?  What is it with the groping?  Is it a turn on for you?  Or do you mistakenly think you are turning us on?  (You're not, I guarantee it!)  It reminds us of 6th grade when 12 year old boys would sit in a corner pointing and exclaiming, "Look, boobies!" and then try to cop a feel as we walked by.  The groping needs to cease and desist.  It's in your best interest, I promise.

Willy wagging.  Just.Stop.It.  Shaking it at us?  It's not a turn on.  You may find it highly amusing to touch your junk, shake it around and chase us around the house.  It does not increase our libido, okay?  Not in the least.

The crude comment.  If I say I'm thirsty, and you reply with a smirk, "Oh I can give you something to drink."  Do you think I will reply, "Great idea, thanks!?"  Is that what men perceive as foreplay?  Do you think I instantly appreciate the suggestion to quench my thirst and get all excited thinking about it?  Because, if so?  You're mistaken.  I received lots and lots of comments from women regarding their frustration with the crude comment.  By the way, a little dirty talk at the right time is not the same thing.  Two different entities.

Groping, willy wagging, and the crude comment are all aspects of male behavior that women would like to see disappear.  If you are a man and you want to leave a comment and tell me how your wife/girlfriend gets turned on when you say something crude to her out in public, wag your willy at her at the dinner table, and then honk her tit as she walks by, then fine.  There are exceptions to every rule.  But my guess is that you just think she gets turned on by it.

Women stated repeatedly they don't get nonsexual affection from their significant other.  "Why can't he give me a hug without turning it into a grope?" was a recurring theme.  Holding hands, hugging, touching without sex, was high on my female reader's wish list.  Nonsexual physical contact seems to be something women crave, but don't get.

Now that we've talked about a few things women don't like, I'd like to hear from my readers what they do like.  What does foreplay mean to you?  I'd like to hear from both men and women.  What gets you in the mood?  What would you like to see your significant other do?  What makes you feel romantic?

A Gender Gap

Yesterday's post regarding male/female communication set off some strong emotions among my readers.  There were male readers who were downright offended at the idea they would sexualize most communication from females.  At the same time they acknowledged they "think about sex a lot."  One real-life male friend told me the article's statistic stating men are thinking of sex 80-90% of the time during a conversation with a female is "probably on the high side."  He didn't, however, sound as if he thought the statistic was on the high side by much.

I also got an email from a male friend asking if I was referring to him in that post.  Did he not read my disclaimer at the beginning of the post?  No, I was not referring to anyone in my life with that post.  The idea came strictly from the article I read.  Thank you very much ....

Surprisingly, most of the female readers who left comments or sent emails felt that men do, in fact, see life through sex-tinted glasses.  I realize most of you don't take the time to read through comments so I've posted the highlights for you here today. 

I was up late last night retrieving my daughter at LAX airport from her summer abroad.  Due to lack of time. I haven't linked every author to their comment, but you can click on yesterday's comments if you would like to see who wrote what.  I hope all my commenters will forgive me this lack of blog etiquette for this one occasion.  TR is finally home after her nine week trip and we were up to all hours celebrating her return.

From a female reader:
My husband is a case in point. I can't even make a casual comment like, "I'm hungry" without him grabbing his groin and going, "I've got something for you to snack on, baby." He's 54 years old, for God's sake ....

From a female reader:
I am so sick of every single comment being a sexual innuendo and every touch turned into a sexual grope.

From a female reader:
I think men get married because they want a regular sexual partner. Women get married so they have a companion. Those goals are at odds, and no wonder 50% of marriages end in divorce. I mean think about it -- women don't want to have sex with their husbands unless their husbands spend time with them; husbands don't want to spend time with their wives unless their wives have sex with them. Not compatible goals, I'm thinking.

From a male reader:
The article you were reading sounds silly...and completely idiotic. They obviously interviewed a high school football team for their content!

From a male reader:
I think that magazine was written by 13 year old boys. Men don't think like that. Sure, we flirt and can do a double entendre on occasion. But I stopped looking for sex in every remark sometime after I graduate jr. high.  We do think about sex a lot.

From a female reader:
When I tell my husband I'm tired, he tells me I need a little protein, and you know what he means.   ewwwww. Just what I need, a little ***hair on my teeth before I go teach kindergarten. yuck.

From a female reader:
Oh YES! They are never NOT thinking about sex. Especially blow jobs!

From a male reader:
That article takes it too far. Yeah, if you say you're wet, I'm gonna pay attention. But if you ask how I am, I assume you want to know how I am. Give us guys a little credit.

From a female reader:
I thought when I was saying "how are you" to a guy friend, what I really meant was "god damn, do I want to blow you."  I guess, maybe, I just really wanted to know how he was.

From a female reader:
Perhaps I live in a bubble where men and women can be friends and can associate freely without sex being involved... but it is my bubble and I like it!

My favorite comment left by a male reader (Neil from Citizen of the Month):

This is my first time at this blog, but being a male, I have the feeling that you were writing about me when you wrote it, and I think you totally want to have sex with me. Am I right?

And my favorite comment left by a female reader (Margaret from Nanny Goats in Panties):

I would think it would depend on how much of a sextard the guy is.  (Neil???)

Sex and Hello Are Not The Same Thing

Family members?  Go away.  You can come back in a few days.  I'm talking about stuff you don't want to hear this week. 

To all my readers, if sexually explicit references offend you, please come back on Tuesday.  To my male real-life friends, this post was not written about you.  

I recently read an article discussing the communication gap between men and women.  I found the article amusing.  Unfortunately I was leafing through several magazines at the time and I don't recall which one the article was in so I can't quote my source.  I hate it when I do that.  The article made me laugh, but it also left me concerned.  Many of my favorite friends are men.  If the article is accurate, my friendships with men might be in trouble.

According to the article, men read sex into just about every form of communication a women transmits.  Here are some examples. 

I say "hello" and he thinks, "She wants me."

I ask, "How have you been?"

He thinks, "She can't leave me alone ... she wants to give me a blow job!"

In reality?  All I'm thinking about is running to the store for tampons after we finish our pleasantries.  Maybe I'm thinking about the dirty kitchen at home.  Your personal pleasure stick?  It's not really on my mind.  I hate to break it to my male readers, but that's how women think.  We are mentally running through our to-do lists during our every waking moment.  Sometimes even during sex if you aren't performing well enough don't distract us enough.  (Distract us, distract us!!)

I wish I had the article in front of me as I write this, but the statistics quoted were staggering.  During a brief male/female conversation they say men are thinking about sex or sexual references 80 - 90% of the time.  For women, I think it ranged around 10% of the time.

When I'm at physical therapy and I say, "I'm really wet!" I am referring to the bag of ice that melted on me.  The man sitting across from me, however, is instantly alert and extremely attentive.  In fact, he's falling all over himself to start up a conversation.  We are not on the same page.

When that same man says to his PT, "Hey, stop rubbing my thigh you just gave me a hard-on," I definitely glance over.  (What?  You wouldn't??)

The difference being, he is clearly making a reference to something sexual and I absolutely am not.

If I send an email to a male friend saying, "I was thinking about you today, how are you?" it does not mean I want to do you desperately this very minute.  Also, I'm not sitting at my laptop thinking about giving you head.  (Sorry, I'm sure it would be a titillating experience and all, but ...!)  No, it just means something reminded me of you and I thought I'd check in to hear how you are.  That's all ... honestly.  And by the way, I hope you're doing great.

According to the article, a female complimenting a man is interpreted by the man as hot, steamy, moaning, desire.  (Okay, so I got carried away and threw the word "moaning" in.  Don't ask.) 

I'm now afraid to even say, "I like your shirt" to a male friend.  I don't want him to think I'm gearing up to strip off his clothes, rub myself all over him, and start sucking on his ... earlobes.  Really I'm just thinking his shirt might look nice on my son, RC.  Or maybe I'm thinking it's the same shade of blue I'd like to paint in my upstairs bathroom.

I tend to be a complimenter, but not an insincere one.  I'm very genuine about giving compliments.  I know most of us don't get patted on the back nearly as often as we deserve.  I make a point of praising people on their positive traits.  In the case of my male friends, are they interpreting those compliments as lust on my part?  This particular article  says yes, they are. 

If a male friend tells me he fixed a broken pipe and I say, "It's great you're so handy," does he think I'm saying, "I want those handy hands on me ... now!?"  Or maybe, "I want and need your pipe!?"

If he spends a day working on his car, I might tell him that's an admirable trait.  Does he instantly think I want him to lube my engine?

What if I say, "I really enjoy our conversations, you stimulate my mind?"  Is he thinking, "She said I stimulate her.  I'm a stud.  All I have to do is talk and she's all hot and bothered."  Is he thinking sex toys while I'm thinking Obama's economic recovery plan?

What happens when words like come, head, member or "throbbing member" innocently occur in conversation?  (Oops ... maybe not throbbing member, what's wrong with me today?)  The article said men will focus on those words in particular, females may not even hear them. 

I'll be honest.  I don't want to believe the magazine.  If the article is true, I don't know how comfortable I can feel with my male friends.  I treat my male friends like I would a best girlfriend.  How do I know if the article is true though?  I only have my own very female perspective.  I think I have strong, nonsexual, male/female friendships.  Am I kidding myself?  Do men read sex and lust into every communication with females?

You Name It!

I didn't expect such a huge response from my post about funny names the other day.  I received an overwhelming number of name submissions.  I was left wondering why all these men named Dick don't go by Richard or Rich instead?  Especially if they have a last name that makes them the constant butt (pun intended) of jokes.

I can't list all the names you sent me, but here are several in no particular order.

Stormy and Wendy Weather (sisters)
Mona Lisa Smith
Rusty Nail
Bunny Hare (who had a brother Rabbit Hare, a reporter)

Dick Seaman
Dick Uranis
Helen Hooker
Ima Whore
Ima Pigg

Mary Dicklich
Dick Johnson
Mr. Bonar (a Middle School principal, can you imagine?!)
Seymour Pecker
Phil McCracken

Jack Imhoff
Dick Dick
Candy Barr
Clay Money
Iletta Pew

Dr. Wry (say quickly - opthamologist)
Dr. Payne
Happy Dicks (a neurosurgeon)
Dr. Hacker (seen for a cough)
Dr. Au (allergist/needles!)

Dr. Bracey (orthodontist)
Mrs. Butts (a teacher)
Major Butts
Dusty Broom
Justin Case

Dick Chase
Brandy Wine
John Wacker
Mike Hunt (say quickly, repeat)

Beaver Liquors (a business, but worthy of mention)
Fu King (Chinese restaurant, Cooperstown, NY)

In addition, people submitted other name oddities.  As an example, the surgeon who performed my first three post-car accident surgeries was named Thomas Thomas.  What was his mom thinking?

Others you submitted:

Richard Richard
Johnny Johnson
Tracy & Tracy (first names of a married couple)
Leslie & Leslie (same)
Jean & Gene (same)

If I didn't include a name you sent in, I apologize.  My fingers are worn out from typing!

I don't normally post on weekends, but tomorrow I will post the responses from a fellow blogger I recently interviewed. 

On Monday I am going to be taking a humorous (!) look at male/female communication.  Honestly, it is a wonder the two sexes ever communicate at all.  According to an article I recently read, men read sexual desire into almost all female communication.  If that's the case, I'm in big trouble with some of my male friends .... 

Hmmm - maybe not so big?  I'll have to take a better look.  Ha!  Just kidding!

Have a great weekend!       

Losing a Friend?

The last two years have been a huge transition for me with my friends.  Since my car accident I have lost friendships with many people I felt close to two years ago.  People don't always rise to the occasion when faced with friends dealing with adversity.  A lot of people run away as fast as they can.  Even people you love dearly.  It was a surprising fact which hurt me immensely following my accident. 

I look at the friends I have now differently.  I value them more.  I look deeper for true character instead of being content with superficial charm.  If that means fewer friends, but truer friends, I can accept it.  I know the people who stood by me the last few years, and in turn, I would do anything for them.  Anything. 

The others?  Not so much.

This week, I may have lost a friend I've had for several years.  It makes me sad because I genuinely care about this person.  This is a friend I've confided in and looked to for advice for many years.  Someone I've respected and trusted.  Someone I've counted on without ever realizing I counted on her quite so much.  Someone I thought, it turns out incorrectly, I could share just about anything with.  (And for my regular readers, no it's not Nike.) 

I told this person about something that happened to me when I was very young.  Something I've not felt comfortable sharing with many people in my life.  It was not about something I did, but rather about something that happened in my life.  I didn't feel like it was as major of a disclosure as perhaps it was.  It was so many years ago, it feels like a part of someone else's life now, not mine.  

My friend informed me she was left feeling uncomfortable and wished I hadn't told her.  I was embarrassed.  Who wants to make a friend feel uncomfortable?  Also, who wants to put themselves out there with a disclosure and be rejected?  It's a risk to share some things; it takes courage to bare your soul. 

After she informed me of how she felt, we both felt uncomfortable.  Strained.  Awkward. 

I hadn't anticipated her reaction.  Obviously, I wouldn't have shared the information if I had. 

I apologized.

My apology was followed by ... a dose of more uncomfortable and awkward.  For both of us.       

I can't erase the fact that the subject was brought up.  I took a risk, without realizing it was a risk, and it fell flat.  I've either lost the friendship or, at the very least, I've lost a dimension of the friendship. 

I also know that I will never have the courage to bring that particular topic up with anyone again.  No matter how many years go by. 

Do you have a friendship you mourn the loss of?  What happened and why?  Or maybe you have a story of a friendship that was reconciled?  I'm feeling sad today.  Make me feel better - share your story in the comments section.

Tomorrow I will publish a selection of the very (!) funny names you submitted. 

 

Money Town Gossip With a Side of Margarita

Last Friday night we decided to wander down to Rosie's for dinner.  If you watch The Real Housewives of Orange County, then you know the real name of the restaurant is Rose Canyon Cantina & Grill.  All the locals call it Rosie's.  It is located in a nearby canyon and it is a dive.  It is a dive with horseshit outside rustic ambiance.  I remember being shocked to see it featured on the TV show.  Bikers, transients canyon dwellers, and the Money Town crowd all gather together at Rosie's.  

 

Wouldn't you think they would pick an upscale restaurant for a TV show?  But Rosie's is a favorite around here if you don't mind rats because it is just a comfortable place to be.  The food is pretty poor only okay, and you can say even less the same for the service.  For some reason people still like to go to Rosie's.  The margaritas and the outdoor patio (which is lit up by Christmas lights at night) might have something to do with it.  It is a comfortable place to just hang out.

TR is home from college (driven home - no more train rides!) so Briefcase and I went to dinner with all 3 of our kids.  That never happens anymore.  We had barely set foot in the door when we were greeted by acquaintances from Money Town.  They were so happy to see us.  Were they happy to see us because they love and adore us?  No, definitely not.  They were happy to see us because right now, our family is the source of gossip in Money Town and they wanted scoop.

Wouldn't this be an interesting post if I had some juicy secret to reveal about Briefcase and I?  Secrets about lovers, imminent pregnancies or divorce, latent lesbianism amongst the grandmas, or possibly news that my youngest child has fathered a new species?  No, you see, in Money Town it doesn't take much of anything to get them all talking.  Today's topic?  Briefcase and I have disbanded the elite baseball travel team we have run for years.  The team was kind of a big deal around here.  (Yes, you may now YAWN!)

In most communities this would be a non-event.  No one would care, notice or comment.  In Money Town, where many families have either played for our team (a few), wanted to play for our team (many more), or wanted to see our team fail (most of them) - it is big news.  Money Town people are exceedingly competitive.  If their kid can't make an elite team (or didn't do well if they were briefly on the team), then you can damn well count on the fact that they are wishing the team to fail.  The people around here who care the least about our earth-shattering news?  Well, that would be us! 

We are so burnt out by egotistical and difficult sports parents that we are friggin' overjoyed to be done.  Which is not to say we regret the many years we were involved.  We have a lot of fond memories of asinine fathers screaming at their kids and the coaches.  We also have many phony good friends from the experience.  There were some wonderful and absolutely bizarre families involved with us over the years.  But the non-wonderful ones?  Well, that's the reason we're done.

The acquaintances at Rosie's barely took a breath before they told us, "Everyone is talking about you disbanding The Team and what you might do next!  We just came from XXX and that's all anyone can talk about!  The Team just won a State Championship, why would you DO that?!"  They then prattled on about all the different options they have decided we must be thinking about.  They kept their eyes steady on mine, wanting to read my reaction.  Hoping to read, "That's it!" if they guessed our "top secret" future plans so they could go tell the rest of Money Town and be first with the news.  The truth?  They have put a lot more thought into our future plans than we have.  We simply wanted out. 

Are you listening Money Town?  We have no future plans!

We finally managed to extract ourselves from the baseball parents and get seated.  Only in Money Town would something so small, turn into something so big.  So "everybody's talking" about this innocuous announcement?  Well, in that case, it's definitely margarita time ... with salt please!       

Lawyers and Legal Crap

I am having a stressful week.  I shouldn't tell you why, but I will.  I am up to my ears in legal crap this week.  Legal paperwork and legal meetings.  I don't think I am allowed to tell you why that is true.  There is some absurd rule with legal cases that if you talk about them you die ... or something like that.  I have actually had dreams/nightmares that I accidentally slip-up and have a lengthy conversation on the case only to be marched out in front of a firing squad for execution.  No one really needs to impose this "no talk" rule on me, because the fact of the matter is that I don't know what I'm talking about in legal terms enough to make any sense whatsoever anyway.  And anything I might say is probably some huge misinterpretation or misunderstanding on my part of what is really going on.  The point being, I am pretty much a worthless source of information even on legal matters I am involved in.  Oh - and yes, I was in a pretty bad car accident nearly two years ago.  Some asshole guy ran a stop sign and ... Oops ... was I not supposed to say that? 

I worked in a law office for 3 years while in college to help pay for school.  I ran errands like making bank deposits, running documents to and from the courtroom, helped out with bookkeeping, etc.  Whatever they needed on any given day I would do.  The office I worked for paid well and was flexible with my hours which was always a huge help around finals.  I enjoyed the job and I especially enjoyed that the Senior Partner in the firm owned a Porsche which he gave me free use of.  He was the nicest boss.  I even got to take it on weekend trips and I have loved Porsche's ever since.  I considered going to law school because I made so many lawyer friends while working there and I had a strong academic record.  However, financially it did not seem to be an option for me at that point in my life.  Instead, my college boyfriend (not Briefcase) went on to law school and I was the supportive girlfriend but did not go myself.  Supportive girlfriend - yes, the expression makes me gag even now!          

Because of my law office experience, I really thought I liked lawyers.  I know you hear all the lawyer jokes and blah, blah, blah, but I have never had any legal headaches.  I made a lot of lawyer friends through that job - some of which I still have many years later.  In fact, my son, PR, is named after a lawyer friend I met at that point in my life.  As the years have gone on I have had many other friends who are lawyers too and I have always had respect and appreciation for the fact that they had to suck up the years of law school and get through bar exams to accomplish their goal. 

A few years back I heard that my old college boss (Mr. Senior Partner with the Porsche) was serving time in prison.  I was SHOCKED.  I was more shocked when I found out why.  Apparently he was convicted of embezzling funds from clients.  I immediately flashed back to when I would run from bank to bank depositing money from one account to another for him.  I never knew why I did that - he just told me to.  Did I aid him in embezzling?  What about the bookkeeping I did for him?  How long did he embezzle for, and when?  Was it taking place when I worked there?  To this day I don't know the answer.  I do remember some elderly clients that he managed trusts for and I have been told that those were indeed some of the accounts he dipped into ... supposedly with the intention of eventually repaying.  I was young and naive, and possibly he used me to help him.  (Hmmm ... should I be writing this?  Can I be arrested all these years later?)   

The discovery of his crime and resulting imprisonment was my first experience with lawyer-friend let down.  This is someone I had looked up to and respected.  I felt betrayed - who WAS he, really?  Obviously he was not the man I thought he was.  And had he really used me to help him?  If so ... how could he have pretended to be my friend and mentor?  Now, many years later I have had other experiences of lawyer-friend let down.  People I thought I knew, trusted, and respected as friends who turned out to be shallow, fake, insincere and intentionally hurtful.  I realize that in any profession there are good and bad people.  Sincere and insincere.  When it happens with a lawyer though people act like you should expect it ... it is their profession to manipulate facts, so why be so surprised when they try to manipulate you?

That brings me to now.  Sitting here stressing over legal papers strewn everywhere.  Staring bleary eyed at ten-part question after ten-part question written in legalese.  Wondering why the hell lawyers can't just ask a simple ten word concise question like the rest of humanity?  I can't think of a single positive thing to say about lawyers at the moment.  I am also stressing over the legal meetings I will be sitting through this week.  How many times will I need to ask, "Can you repeat that please ... in English?"  How many times will my lawyer remind me during those meetings, "A simple yes or no answer is always best"?  The fact is ... a simple yes or no answer is almost impossible for my willful, stubborn personality.  Will I be able to control my tendency of being a smart ass?  How about my sarcastic sense of humor?  One of my current lawyer friends cautioned me against "trying to out think the lawyers".  Clearly he knows me too well, because how can I NOT be thinking a few steps ahead when I know they will have "crafted" their questions in an attempt to manipulate the answers?  Today I procrastinate working on the remainder of this mountain of legal paperwork (yet again) by getting another coffee refill, changing the play list on my iPod, writing this blog, and glancing at the clock while pondering how many more hours of work I still have ahead of me.  Coffee anyone?                  

   

Can Men and Women Be Friends?

This weekend I spent an afternoon with my long-time friend, Nike.  Nike and I have known each other for about 14 years.  We met when our firstborns ended up in the same kindergarten class.  Two years later our second born kids also shared a kindergarten class and the boys became close friends.  We live about a block apart but in different neighborhoods.  Our families have gone on vacations together over the years and shared many kid and adult activities together also.  Every summer we have a tradition of meeting down at the beach early on Friday evenings.  We hang out and watch the sunset while we chat and nibble on appetizers, maybe sip a cocktail ,and then we head off for dinner once darkness arrives.  I savor those summer evenings.  Nike is the type of friend that you know you can call up in an emergency and count on without hesitation.  She and I are very different in many ways but the bond of friendship runs deep.

Nike had a birthday last week so, as we always do, we went out to celebrate.  It was supposed to be drinks on Friday night, but kid events intervened and we ended up out for lunch on Saturday.  Lunch itself probably only took 20 or 30 minutes.  The conversation, however, went on for 3 hours.  Three hours of catching up and it had only been a week since we had seen each other.  Our conversations tend to cover everything from day to day life to deeper issues on life, marriage, politics, personal convictions, etc.  Nothing is off limits.

The big topic of the day was a discussion of male/female friendships.  Nike and I find ourselves on polar opposites regarding this.  It is a discussion I have been having with several people lately and I find the responses from everyone very interesting.  I decided it would be a good topic to bring to the blogoshpere so I have been informally polling friends for their opinion. 

The question is ... can men and women have successful friendships that are JUST friendships?  I say yes - absolutely.  Nike says no - absolutely not. 

I named off some men that I know have been in Nike's life for years and she insists they are not friends.  They are husbands of friends, but not her friends.  I grew up in a neighborhood of mainly boys and have always had close male friends.  In fact, I have always felt like I relate more to men than women and can't imagine not having my male friends in my life.  Not that I don't cherish my female friends because I absolutely do.  However, I have always been able to turn to male friends and feel a connection that is not impacted by any of that girly stuff that can get in the way.  I am not a girly girl and never have been.  Men tend to be honest, real, blunt ... qualities I appreciate.  Possibly it is the way I grew up, but I can't imagine life without my male friends.   

I do believe that male/female friendships are probably easier to form and maintain prior to marriage.  I also believe that male/female friendships in the work place are more likely to last over time just because there is ongoing contact to help maintain those friendships.  However, I do believe that it is entirely possible and beneficial to have opposite sex friendships at any point in your life.  Granted, if you are married you have to be with a spouse who is not threatened by opposite sex friendships.

In talking to people about this subject I have heard every type of response imaginable.  From one man who told me, "Sure I can have female friends, but I still want to #$% them.", to another who said, "I've had female friends with no sexual undertones MANY times in my life."  One woman told me she has given up on having male friendships because, "Men always ruin it and try to make it something else."  Another girlfriend told me she has several male friends that she counts on as her closest confidants.  What do you think?  Do you have successful friendships with the opposite sex?  Do you believe men and women can be just friends?