Leaving on a jet plane...

I am leaving for a week-long business trip this Saturday, and I won't be back for a whole week.

Not that I am posting all that much these days that you would notice; but, I thought I would let you know anyway, as I am sure a good post will await you upon my return.

In the meantime, let me introduce you to my newest purse obsession.

Super Secret Readers, meet purse. Purse, say hello to my Super Secret Readers....

L.A.M.B. be thy name.

Happy Halloween

In lieu of participating in Company X’s annual Halloween celebration last Friday, I decided to take a “mental health” day off from work and spend an afternoon of shopping and manicures with my mom.

Rather than go to our tried and tested mani/pedi spot, my mother insisted on checking out a newly-opened nail place that she had recently discovered in search of “a better deal.”

Ignoring for a moment that my mother’s “Magic Nails Salon” was located in the city’s oldest part of town, I accepted her proposal without protest-as I am flexible like that, and she was fitting the bill; however as soon as we pulled up to the store front, I had the sinking suspicion that any money we saved on manicures would quickly be spent on necessary, post-manicure tetanus shots.

My suspicions were, unfortunately, confirmed when we pulled up to the structure where the nail salon was located. Before housing nail salons and other such shops, the building itself had probably served as a two-family home; so long ago perhaps, that by the looks of the place, some of the town’s founding settlers had probably lent a hand in its construction.

Once we entered the store, I was quickly assigned to a small man-icurist named Kevin, who silently led me to his booth, where I was instructed to remove my rings and sit down.

For a blessed while, Kevin completely ignored me, choosing instead to converse with another salon employee in Vietnamese. This discussion lasted for quite a while, with Kevin breaking from the dialog only once to exclaim, “I don’t care if your husband’s a doctor!”

Finally, he turned his attention back to me and spoke.

Kevin: Are you married?
Westchester: Noooooo….
Kevin: …….Oh my, you have short nails! No, these are no good. You want me to put tips on them?
Westchester: No, no. My nails are ok.
Kevin: (Pause) No, these are not ok. Let me put on tips. You give me three months, and I can have your nails as long as MINE!

And with that, Kevin threw down the nail file he was holding and matter-of-factly fanned out his nails for my viewing pleasure. Each tiny digit was adorned with dramatically long fingernails-whose extreme lengths were only to be out done by the longest nails that adorned his pinky fingers. Kevin’s eyes flared with pride, and I bit my lip to hold back the screams that so desperately wanted to come out.

At that point, my mother shouted over her shoulder that I was a life-long nail biter, far beyond any sort of nail-biting redemption.

Kevin slowly shook his head in sad resignation; my short nails a personal affront to the very long, very cat like nails he had worked so hard to cultivate on his own hands.

MUCH Needed Update Post

Hi all! So sorry for the REdiculous lack of posting.

First Company X was cracking down on Internet use.

Next I started having writer's block.

Then I went on vacation for 2 weeks!

And now.....well, let's just say I am going to give it my all to get back in the game!

What prompted this return to Internet "journalism," you might be wondering? Well the answer to that can be summed up very easily.....I saw a naked guy walking down a busy street in downtown Milwaukee the other night-and thought you should know!

For a long time, I thought I was the only one who saw the slowly meandering marauder, however, no sooner had he made his way within visible distance of one of the bustling corner bars that I heard a woman's scream. At that point, the man looked confused, turned on his heels, and continued his lazy evening walk elsewhere.

What happened to the naked guy, one can only guess. However, I hope he is ok. It takes balls to walk down a busy city street, naked-and while, I am fairly certain he was seriously f'ed up-I have to hand it to that guy!

Four states in three days, and that ain’t bad.

The saying goes, “what happens in Evansville, Indiana, STAYS in Evansville, Indiana,” and this is especially true when you are attending a wedding and reception in a casino.

Yes, this past Friday, Jazzy A, Foxy Sunshine and I took a road trip down south to attend the much-anticipated nuptials of college friends Allison and Mathew (spelled with only one T, a lesson I learned the hard way after I had already addressed their card in black ink).

In our down time, Foxy, Jazzy and I crossed the bridge into neighboring Kentucky in hopes of hitting up the county fair (this means that in the course of three days, I was in Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, AND Kentucky. 4 states in 3 days! Now THAT’S living!). Unfortunately, the fair was an evening thing, so the girls and stopped for lunch (corndogs!!) at a Sonic Drive-In burger joint before heading home to get ready for the wedding.

As you might imagine, the nuptials were lovely. With a 7:30PM start time, this was to be an evening ceremony. The church was illuminated by candlelight with the last bits of light from the setting sun streaming through richly-colored stained glass windows. The bride wore an elegant champagne-colored gown and long flowing veil, the groom was dapper in his black tuxedo, and the wedding party looked wonderful in tuxedos and floor-length, chocolate-colored dresses.

After the ceremony, the newlyweds marched out of the church to songs from the original Starwars trilogy, a choice that surprised me until I glanced over and noticed an audience member had donned a Chewbacca mask. This, I later learned, was a tribute to the groom.

Next it was onto the Aztar Casino for drinks, dancing and warm appetizers.

All in all it was a wonderful weekend! I got to spend time with some of my dearest friends, and I was able to attend a really fun wedding, with lots of personal touches (see: Chewbacca mask).

The one down side was the total of 16 hours I spent in the car, because, as I can assure you, road trips are not my favorite thing. Here are some photos from the 12-hour portion of our drive that we spent in the winding, and ever-varied landscapes of Indiana:

Congratulations again to Allison and Mathew! And as I signed in your official wedding guest book, "May your lives together be filled with happy endings, and may you always live by a Super Target." Also, thanks again to Jazzy and Foxy for an unforgettable weekend of fun-can't wait to see you in Milwaukee in the upcoming weeks!

Try not to panic...

I have been warning people about THIS GROWING THREAT for months, maybe now people will finally start listening to me!

A land war has truly begun.

Happy Monday!

Charlotte's Web 2: The Reckoning

For the third summer in a row, there is an outbreak of spiders in my apartment.

That’s right, spiders. And for the past three years I have bravely weathered this annual infestation with the type of fortitude and courage that is exhibited in absolutely NO other aspects of my life. Usually, when faced with a dilemma, I tend to approach the trouble as a toddler might weather a trip to the mall: with a lot of whining and/or pleas for hugs.

That’s not happening here though. No sir! These days when I spot a spider, I fight every urge to whine; and instead, immediately jump into action with the help of my Bissell hand held vacuuming device. Search and destroy! I am an unstoppable force.

At this point in the story, some of you (the LOSERS) are probably feeling sorry for the spiders. You are probably thinking that these little guys are just minding their own business on my ceiling, and have done nothing to deserve such a dramatic and (likely) painful death within the churning underbelly of my electronic cleaning products. Well stop!

These mini-nemesi are far less disadvantaged than you might think! Far from it! In fact, the spiders in my apartment have two major advantages going for them, which often make my size advantage a lot less advantageous.

Spider Advantage One: The spiders in my apartment are sprightly, and can often jump into a good hiding spot long before I even have my vacuum cleaner out of the closet.

Spider Advantage Two: I have unusually poor hand-eye coordination for someone my age, and even when I do get my vacuum out in time, it is often a short-lived victory, as I usually miss my target by several feet on my first offensive attack. At that point, the spider will flip its little legs off of the ceiling and fall somewhere behind my refrigerator and wall, or directly onto the top of my head.

As you can see, neither of these scenarios could be considered a victory for yours truly-by ANY stretch of the imagination.

All in all I have to hand it to the little guys. Considering I am around 1,000,000 times their size, they usually put up a pretty decent fight. If something 1,000,000 times MY size tried to vacuum me; well, let’s just say there would be a SIGNIFIGANT and noticeable drop in the number of postings on this blog…..

Weekend Smackdown and/or plea for readers.

I have been in a creative slump.

I am not sure what exactly contributed to said slump, but I would be willing to guess it had a little something to do with Company X. Coworker X, on the other hand, is just fine. In fact, just the other day, we had an animated talk debating which of us was the better athlete; and, like so many of our chats, this one ended with a threat from me having a little something to do with a shiv and Coworker X in a dark alleyway.

Moving on, I had a great weekend. On Friday, I met some girlfriends at The Hi Hat for cocktails and people watching (cough, judging). The next day, I awoke early to get ready to attend a bridal shower for good friend, Beaker Callahan. This September, I will be proudly standing behind Beaker as the maid of honor in her wedding, and this is the only shower (aside from her bachelorette party) that I will be able to attend. During the course of the shower, I dazzled the crowd with performances of my entire magic trick repertoire. The more impressive of my two tricks involves the disappearance of a sugar packet, followed by its immediate reappearance in someone’s bra. This usually goes over well with adults, but perhaps should have been altered for the sake of my singular audience member- Beaker’s six year old niece.

Saturday night I met up with Petal Personality, Keanu Personality, Darling Peterson, Wakefield and Franklin Serious for a birthday celebration for Wakefield. I brought Wakefield a birthday card that prominently featured a little boy picking his nose with a note inside explaining that I had picked the card myself.....perhaps this joke really is only funny to me.

At around 3AM, I traveled the road less taken (acting responsibly after a long night of drinking) and declined invites for a late night snack at Ma Ficher’s so I could catch some much needed shut eye before hitting Sunday morning’s 11AM boating trip that I had committed to weeks before.

No sooner was I home, than I made an executive decision to take a brief nap on my couch in order to muster up the much-needed energy I would need to cross the last 10 feet of my apartment into my bedroom.

The next morning, I awoke to discover that my couch is not as comfortable as I had once thought and that I can nap, afterall, but only after I have been subdued by a heavy combination of Miller Lite,a big glass of Vodka and Cranberry juice, and exactly three Ego Waffles.

As you might expect, Sunday came fast for this little blogger, and I was slightly less than thrilled at the prospect of boating on the Milwaukee River. But, I hosed myself down, ate a few rice cakes/chugged a can of Diet Coke and headed off to the marina. After 5 hours on the river-two things are now clear to me.

1. Farmer’s Tans can affect anyone at any time-even the pale, closeted bloggers with a penchant for shiny objects and nothing short of SPF 55.

2. The Milwaukee River smells a little bit like fish and regret.

Well, now that I have broken that writer’s rut-o-mine, perhaps you can look forward to some more updates from your’s truly; or at the very least, some carefully-executed Microsoft Paint art!!!!

Dream a little dream 4

After a long day pretending to work, sleep always comes easy to this weary blogger.

My head hits the pillow and I am down for the count, slowly falling into a deep and dream-filled sleep.

Like you, I spend my nights in a dream world where I have the power of flight, and enjoy sunny afternoons soaring high above the clouds in an effortless journey into the sky. Other nights my entire town has been overrun by vengeful zombies/creepy government agents/merciless vampires; and somehow, I am the last surviving townsperson yet to be eaten/made to work in a polling station/turned into a vampire.

I realize this is all typical dream stuff, really. Although, I am not sure which of those dreams is less realistic: the idea that I would be able to fly, or that I would somehow be the last living survivor of a battle against some dangerous threat to society? Something tells me I have a better chance of sprouting wings from my spinal chord than ever living to see the end of a war against the supernatural, but you never know.

Lately, however, my dreams have taken a turn for the seriously boring, and it is really beginning to depress me! Last night, for example, I spent the better part of the evening encased in a dream that featured your’s truly reorganizing a medicine cabinet. That’s it. That was my dream. I was in a bathroom, reorganizing the shelves of a medicine cabinet.

What the hell am I going to do about all of these delusions of grandeur of mine, if I can’t at the very least live the life of a famous/interesting person while I am asleep?

Stay tuned for an exciting follow-up post detailing the ancient and fabled art of choosing the right shelving paper…..

It's not me, it's you.

Last night my latest crush "friended me."

"friended (verb) : When a girl or boy you have been on a few dates with decides they just want to be friends. Once you are 'friended.' you are not allowed to be romantically interested in them. Friending can appear to happen without warning." (Urban Dictionary)

This serves as a sad little end-of-the-week blow to yours truly's otherwise grandiose ego.

Never mind that the guy made widely close minded remarks on our first date declaring that he would never date a person of my political persuasion, or that he liked to interrupt me when I was weaving one of my famously entertaining yarns.

The fact of the matter is, that I did not have any say in the matter-and that disappoints me.

On another note, I have 5, count them, FIVE spider bites on my left leg-does this mean I am going to get super powers? Because, in the event that I DO get powers, I will probably have to take the contents of this blog in a slightly different direction. For example, rather than agonizing over my latest crush or whether or not a squirrel is going to ambush me from a tree above my head- I will have to change my approach to topics addressing new concerns; namely, the everyday hassles of a person with superpowers.

For starters, how can I harness my super powers to see maximum results from exercising without having to put forth maximum effort? Is there a way these new powers of mine can ensure that only the best spam e-mails make their way into my e-mail inbox? Should I change my blogging tag from Little Miss Westchester to SUPER Little Miss Westchester? How about a discussion about how my new cape looks better with sneakers rather than the typical female super hero boots! Then there will be the inevitable diatribes regarding my efforts to find new ways to use rhinestones as weapons (in addition to their value in t-shirt making and arts and crafts projects).

Clearly, I have a LOT to think about.

Squirrels: 0, Little Miss Westchester: 1

As you know by now, I hate squirrels. They are annoying, strangely aggressive, and they have pointy teeth (see: Top Three Fears_Vampires); which was why I was both thrilled (and disgusted) to discover a dead squirrel lying on the ground near my apartment building the other night.

Thrilled, because that is one less squirrel that I have to worry about jumping on my head from some dastardly perch in a tree; and disgusted, because well, the dead squirrel was missing its head. Its little body frozen in what I would image was the grips of terror (although I can't be sure, because there was no head, and thus no facial expressions upon which I could base these claims).

Ultimately, I can't be sure how the little guy met his (very-timely) end-but my gut tells me it had something to do with another animal removing its head. Well that, or the deceased read my blog and was so overwhelmed by my distaste for his species that his head just kindof popped off and rolled away.

Either of these seems like a realistic scenario-so I guess we will have to chalk this up as just another one of the cosmos’ great mysteries-fated to remain unsolved.

Guide to Impressing a Female Parrot, and other useful information.

If you are like me, you are probably very good looking and have big breasts. Oh, and you really hate spam e-mails.

Correction, you USUALLY hate spam e-mails.

Until today, I would spend good portions of my mornings begrudgingly weeding through my In Box, deleting anything that looked shady, and silently cursing the day I ever entered my contact information into that free porn site. That was until this morning, when I received an e-mail from one “Lenora Rudd,” subjected, and I quote: “Impress yourself, Impress your woman parrot.”

Immediately, I (electronically) ripped open the unsolicited correspondence; and (for the first time ever), was literally unable to contain my excitement over the spastic musings of a crazy stranger who intends to defraud me.

Here is what Lenora Rudd had to say:

“If you expect to gain info concerning in which manner you may extend a new dimension for your rod, you've got to see our site.

Caution delicate material next:
laid
quiz
squint
.cesium
dash
spunk
groove
bit
hal
idaho
oilman
fallen
!
Zoo”

Of the “delicate material” in the list above-a few key words stood out to me.

1. “Quiz” – Where is this quiz, and what will the results tell me about how to impress a female parrot?
2. “Hal”- Who is this Hal character? Is it a friend of Lenora’s? And what does Hal know about parrots?
3. “Idaho”- Does Hal live in Idaho?Is he in need of rescue? I am sure I would want to be rescued if I lived in Idaho too!
4. “Oilman”- AH, it is all coming together now. !!!!!????!!!!

Needless to say, the e-mail shed very little light on how one could impress their female parrot-but, I was pleased to see it made mention of Idaho-which in my estimation, it the most forgotten state…after Nebraska.

After opening that little gem, I got to thinking there might be more useful information that could be gleaned from spam. So without further delay, I proceeded to read through all of my spam e-mails in search of a holy grail; and let me tell you, I struck gold!!!

According to Mr. Koffi Adams, the scribe behind “CONTACT DONALD JACK IMMEDIATELY,” $800,000 has been transferred into a bank account by a newly-found friend of Koffi’s in Mexico; and, if I provide my full name, home address, and cell phone number to Donald Jack, Koffi Adam’s male secretary, that money will be mine. ALL MINE!

My money prayers have been answered-and now I will finally be able to afford a condo overlooking the lake, and that talking monkey I have always wanted!

Not ready to make nice, Time Magazine.

Time Magazine recently published its list of the most "influential people in the world." Immediatly, there was much debate over the magazine's decision to exclude the President of the United States from the list in lieu of well, a bunch of people I have never heard of.

Surely, George Bush has more influence than say, NBC's quirky comedienne Tina Fey (although I will conceed to their inclusion of Justin Timberlake because he makes me feel all funny in my mommy parts). But frankly, these are little matters compared to the two things about this list that have me all up in arms.

Firstly, for the second yeat in a row, no one from Milwaukee made the list... no wait, screw Milwaukee, I didn't make the list! Me, Little Miss Westchester! To this I say: whatever Time Magazine. Maybe I didn't want to be on your stupid list anyway.

Secondly, and perhaps more disturbingly, Nickleback* didn't make the list either!

What a bunch of bull.

There, that's more like it.

*Kidding!

Happy Hump Day Bitches!

If you don't watch NBC's The Office on Thursday nights, well, frankly I don't know what to do with you. But if you DO watch the show, than you will truly, TRULY appreciate today's clip. Enjoy.

CLICK HERE to hear Andy serenade Jim on their way to a sales call.

Tale of two cities.

This was a great weekend.

On Friday night, I accompanied Rachel California and Laney LaRue for the grand opening party of Milwaukee’s Intercontinental Hotel. In addition to a spirited performance by Milwaukee’s pop darlings The Gufs, there were free drinks, free food and respectful conversation all around. After the girls and I sampled all there was to sample and the band had finished their set, we headed up to the after party, where I somehow started talking to some model named Stacey and her kooky boyfriend Todd.

Attempting to court The Gufs.

To onlookers at the party, it might have appeared as though Stacey, Todd and I had known each other all of our lives-perhaps spending our childhood summers together in Lake Geneva. Learning to ride our bikes side by side. And don’t get me wrong, Stacey and Todd were nice and all; but looking back, my enthusiasm for our conversation was more likely rooted in the enthusiastic mix of beer, wine, and champagne I was drinking all night, rather than our chat about Todd's photography. This, of course, is just a guess.

Eventually the party came to an end; and, after exchanging woeful goodbyes with my new best friends Todd and Stacey, Laney, Rachel and I headed home.

Back in my apartment, my champagne euphoria quickly spiraled into something a little less…euphoric, resulting in several unintelligible drunk texts, a well-intentioned drunk dial to Coworker X, and a few purposeful trips to the bathroom once my otherwise sturdy bedroom began spinning violently around my head.

As you can imagine, I would have liked to have spent the better part of Saturday with my head under a pillow in a self-sustained cocoon of darkness made up entirely of a plate of peanut butter toast, some Advil, and a complex straw unit set up to allow me to drink water without ever having to move my head or body in any way. But, the show must go on, and I had a $3.00 Megabus to Chicago to catch! Yes, I spent my Saturday and Sunday visiting my old college pals and I Felta Thigh sorority sisters: Peppermint Patty, Jazzy A, Nurse Blondie, Foxy Sunshine, Miller Time, and the incomparable F’n Early!

After Jazzy picked me up at Union Station, she proceeded to take me on a lovely tour of downtown Chicago’s Millennium Park. There I marveled at my reflection in the Cloud Gate statue (which basically looks like a big silver bean), and spent the better part of a half hour imagining my face within The Crown Fountain impressive video display. Next it was onto Weed Street’s Sangria Restaurant for some delicious Tapas and, you guessed it, Sangria. Delicioso.

Here I am on top of the Bean!

In what seemed like no time at all, it was 3:00PM Sunday afternoon, and I had to hop back on the bus back to Milwaukee. I was sad to see my buddies go-but the adventures of Little Miss Westchester must go on; with your girl steadily growing a little older, a little wiser, and hopefully next time, with a little less of a champagne hangover.

Kicking zombie ass and taking names!

If you are cool like me, you probably spend several hours a day thinking about how much fun it would be to be a superhero and to successfully defend your city against zombies.

I will be the first to admit that once you start down that path of thinking, it is a very slippery slope. One minute, you're reading Max Brooks' The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead (Paperback Edition); and the next thing you know, you are spending hour-long lunches debating the very real likelihood of a zombie outbreak with your coworkers that almost always end with you storming away from the table shouting, "It could happen!" Soon you're spending entire Saturday afternoons at the sewing store reviewing fabric samples that might someday lead to a hero costume unlike anything Hollywood has seen before!!!!!!!! (Sigh.)

The sewing store aside, I was very excited when I found this interactive website that lets you design your own superhero and superhero costume!

How bad ass am I (and yes my superhero weapon is an explosive ball of flames)!?!

CLICK HERE to make a superhero of your own!

Vacation: So close, yet so far away.

I am not going on vacation until August. Mid August. The wait is killing me. All I want to do right now is eat delicious sea food, stare out at the ocean, and sit on the beach under an appropriately large umbrella so as not to expose my pasty-white skin to the sun.

Rather than reporting on the status of Coworker B’s now-year round Christmas countdown; thus sending me into a limitless rage that will last me well into the afternoon, I should instead be thinking about the wonderful vacation that awaits me…in 4 months.

Only 109 days to go!

Meanwhile, on my way into work this morning, I saw two small bunny ears standing at attention in the middle of the road. Where the rest of the small cottontail was, is really anybody’s guess. Logic tells me, the bunny decided to give his ears a rest after spending a little too much time with his mother….but only the bunny can really know for sure.

So really, if anyone SEES a bunny hopping around without ears…or a scalp-please inform said bunny that the ears are doing fine and are, at present, in the middle of a suburban road in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

Strangers in the Night

In what will probably turn out to be a catastrophically bad decision on my part, I have decided to go ahead with my plans to read Stephen King’s collection of short stories, “Everything’s Eventual.” My fear of the dark notwithstanding, this should prove to be a giant mis-step on my part for many, many reasons.

Firstly, I have an unusually-active imagination, especially when I am alone in my apartment (which happens quite a bit actually, as I live alone and rarely entertain). Last night, for example, even after I had checked and then rechecked all of the closets in my apartment for hidden marauders and/or knife-wielding psychopaths, I still managed to lay awake for OVER an hour in my darkened bedroom waiting in expectant terror.

Gripping my sheets tightly, my eyes darted around the room sure that at any moment a ghost (that I was certain was lurking somewhere behind my Lasko 18" Oscillating Pedestal Fan and my collection of Sex and the City DVDs) would ghoulishly reveal itself to me. Oh I fell asleep eventually, exhausted, and resigned to the fact that I might be killed in my sleep by an unseen foe or a really well-hidden marauder.

What set me off in this dizzying spiral of paranoia, you might ask?

Oh, a teaser for an upcoming episode of the WB’s “Supernatural,” that I accidentally watched before turning in.

Sadly, last night’s debacle is nothing compared to the widely-preventable fallout that resulted in a viewing of The Ring during my senior year of college. Let’s just say that after three sleepless nights and a couple of really cranky days, I did not make my situation any better by visiting the film’s official website or by moving my mini-television out into the hall.

Normally, I avoid scary movies and literature of this nature like the plague-but while catching an evening showing of Grindhouse the other night, I saw a preview for 1408-a movie based on one of the short stories within “Everything’s Eventual.” A quick glance over to my movie-mate Moody St.Clair and it was clear I would NOT be seeing that movie; the trailer scared the crap out of me. But for some reason my mind is making an exception for the book; and like a bird flying towards a window it cannot see-I plan to read every last page, and deal with the long list of shadowy consequences that are sure to follow.

Now would probably be a good time for me to invest in a Starbucks gift card, or to finally give in to that sponsorship deal with Redbull.

Overheard in the Office 5

Little Miss Westchester: I have a crush on a 29-year old man with three kids ages 3, 7, and 9.

Laney LaRue: Is he married?

Little Miss Westchester: No.

Laney LaRue: ....that's still not ideal.

As good as it gets...

When I am not promoting good friend, Kash Money's fabulous hand-made cards (that you can purchase and/or check out HERE), I am longingly browsing the genius cards at uncookedland.com. They are pretty funny, and wrong in ALL the right ways.

Cards I am seriously thinking of purchasing include (but are not limited to):

(The best part about having you as a friend is that I can borrow your lip balm and not worry about getting herpes.)

AND

(If there was an award for the best friend in the world, I'd make sure you'd get it. Even if it meant having unprotected sex with the judges.)

C.R.U.S.H.

What I am about to say should not surprise you. In fact, if you have read any of my previous postings you will probably just shake your head and affectionately reply, "Oh Westchester, you crazy, loveable bitch." And your sentiment would be right, although I wish you wouldn't swear.

But as you might have guessed, I have a new crush. Coworker X has just not stepped up to the plate, so he will just have to be a friend; until such time as he DOES ask me out, in which case his friend status will have to be reevaluated. But new crush, oh new crush just oozes possibility.

Now comes the delightful, process of navigating the flirting/pre-dating phase and trying to figure out if he likes me in that way. The reality is I am bad at interpreting the behavior of men, which always leads to confusion; and, if the crush I had on Rico Suave a few summers back is any indicator, it also does not help that I have absolutely no gaydar.

Stay tuned!