OK, fine. I'm oblivious to reality, and a charging dunderhead at that.

But how could I have missed THIS?!? Arghh.

Apparently a certain somebody loves me... What, really? Shit, I missed the signs again, not that I was looking for them. However, in the end--due to my position, I am in no position. Err, to do anything. In any position. Hum.

This here Fatty (not the cyclist) reigns pseudo-triumphant. Not really. Life sucks eggs & not only blows the sulphur out its ass, but it blows it into my face. Nice one, Universe.

*unfolds middle finger*

 Bumped hands searching for the most perfect nectarines. He sparked and I got jumpy.

 His hair smelled like raspberry jam. The rest of him played tickles, teasing my nose & tongue. He smelled like freshly baked gingersnaps, with thick whipped cream that had been liberally sprinkled with cinnamon.  His skin held a splash of the scent of bay rum. Overwhelmed and beginning to choke. Oh, not again. Turned the wrong way to leave, head down & trying not to get flustered. Left my nectarines behind. "You forgot your fruit," he says. He holds out my bag & suddenly I really take a look at him-- and am filled with the urge to giggle.
 Out of my mouth it goes, unstoppable-- I tell him "Good gracious," he looks just like David Tennant. Snappy, just like that, he replies "No, I'm Alex, but I get that a lot," and smiled. Oh, that smile that could have killed my voicebox not so long ago. Instead, I smiled back & softly whispered, "Thank you for not letting me forget my fruit, dear Alex," and managed to walk away-- with my fruit-- without fainting. Dear Lawd, he was energetically lovely. If my knickers had needed knocking... well, I may or may not have thought about it some more..

 Now I wish I had asked him if he was a baker, or what on earth he had been that made him smell so good. The voicebox is getting stronger. No, really. It is. Slowly but surely.

Cheers & All

  Hmmm, the power of extended networks on the Internets...  I forgot to mention here (though I Tweeted) that a former much-beloved penpal (yes, we actually sent letters, imagine that) contacted me through Facebook. He bopped in just to say "Hey, do you remember me?" I thought it was pretty awesome. He's an Englishman who spent about 20 years in Germany, who is now in Leeds. His letters were so damned amusing. Krikey, he's almost 50, now. Where did the time go??
 
 I also wanted to say that if Hot Pursuit harasses me at work any more, I'm going to talk to my manager about it. I'm NOT going to sleep with the doorknob, I'm NOT interested in dating him, or anything else. He's... greasy, oily, ooze-y (Uzi? *snort*) & even Bounty can't pick up what he leaves behind. *shudder* Ugh, yuck!

 I am thoughtful this morning (oh no, run for your lives!)...  I will be going out & about for a drive, shortly. I have a mid-day shift, and a short one at that, so... despite the fact that I am terribly groggy, I'm going to get my ass moving. Move it, ass!

 Cheers & All

 One of the things I've learned, since having made my decision to be committed to remaining uncommitted, is that if I run across some genuinely interesting, lovable folks-- it is quite wrenchingly sad to have to put a damper on my enthusiasm. *sigh*

 Marriage is not for me-- as is evidenced by the divorce-- but it is a bit depressing to have to admit that I have-- issues-- that also make me very wary of men, in general. Let me tell you, it is an interesting thing to be aware of, the dual need to swoon in lust & run away as fast as my feet will carry me. 

 I'm also fairly thin-skinned and ridiculously sensistive to some things. *le sigh*

 I am at a crossroads, yet again. Do I make the great leap of faith of the heart?  I don't think I have the necessary courage or... tools... right now. So. That's that. I must back away. Run, rabbit-- run.

 I really liked him... a lot. Now I must let him go back to being a comfortable whisper in my brainspace, instead of the rushing cascade of waters that made my heart leap a little. Or a lot. 
 It hurts.

 In Other News, I just don't know what to think about my upcoming excursion with my mum. Maybe I won't think about it, as all it does is cause me extreme anxiety. Maybe... like  said this morning: GROW UP! Thirty-six years of wanting and needing the singular thing that will never be given to me in the fashion that I can't identify, but strongly need, is long enough.

And then... Arghh! Hot Pursuit is still, well, pursuing me. I would consider him for Mr. Right Now except that he comes off as so very insincere with his flattery, blat. He tells me he loves me every time he sees me. I rather don't think so, but then again-- I've been known to be oblivious to many things. Naw, I think I'm making the right call on this one. He just likes to chase, I think. Which is not at all a bad thing in itself, but..... Eh, whatever. What the Sam Hill am I going on about, anyway??

 "That sunofabitch took my pants!" - a line from "The Terminator" film. Gawd, I love this movie. I'm looking forward to the next Terminator movie!

 Off to make a meal & have a nice trapist ale... 
Cheers & All

  

 Just when you think that you've got it figured out, along comes a challenge. You think, from previous experience, that what you call your guns is what you should stick to. Then comes the push, and you feel all whack-a-doo, and you don't know if your guns need to be retired or what.

 Frick! Of all of the times to be truly interested in a man... Gah. I should just konk myself on the head and get it over with. It's inevitable anyway. I'm not his type. Not by a long shot.

 I am a complete nincompoop of epic proportions! Augh. Damn it. Forget it. I can go without. I've made it this long. Besides, he lives a bit too far away, I don't know him well enough to get my collective panties in a bunch, and I keep on trying to remind myself that I'm not his type. Plus (and more importantly) I think he already has someone "in progress." I don't go stepping on other women's shoes.
 *sniffle* But I really like him. For the second time ever, there's someone who shares more than just a few of my passions. 
 Bah, I'm going to quit sniveling. The sooner it's over in my head, the better. Right? Right.

 *sigh* On the upside, Zack Attack uploaded some music for me... I seem to have misplaced every single damned Disturbed cd that I own, and that is... uh, disturbing.

 I need music. Must have music. It's cold in here, damn the weather and its incessant need for blizzards. Up yours too, MinneSnowTa.

 Cheers & All,
Your Crabby Raineth

 


 

 

 People come up to me frequently to tell me that they "just needed to try" what I had eaten, as I become rather enthusiastic about my vittles, especially when with others.  

I had a very wonderful meal at a Chinese food buffet place the other day. I strayed from my gluttonous path somewhat and got a pile of the veggies stir-fried, added some sauces, grabbed a right-proper bowl of rice, a bit of duck and called it good. You know those days when you're so very hungry for something, and you're hoping that what you've chosen is it? Yes, I had one of those days. I was so overjoyed to be eating my food, all with a nice big squeeze of fresh lemon. I could feel the joy spilling over; it simply wasn't containable.

 Sure enough, a fellow customer walked up to me, excused herself for bothering me, and told me she'd never seen anyone eat with as much joy as I obviously was having. "Watching you eat is amazing. It's like... (I could tell she was trying to search for the polite descriptive words)... you breathe it in, and breathe it out. It's like you are a part of it (she frowned, as she may have thought she wasn't making any sense, even though I knew exactly what she meant). You just simply... you enjoy it so much." I thanked her, recommended the hot & sour soup, and continued eating.

Yes, yes I do enjoy my food as much as I can. I prefer home-made meals from as scratch as frequently as possible, but there are some days I can't be bothered to wash a spoon, let alone make a meal.

 Anywho-- I didn't want to be rude to the woman, so I refrained from saying "What you mean is, I treat food like it's sex, and my partner has no hope of surviving as dessert"  (even though I currently have no partner).  Heh.

 La dee dah. What is up with my raging hormones, lately?? Augh. Working with this many women is just... well, some days it's damned awful to be a sensitive human. Blat.


 Cheers & All
 OK, I'm hungry.

 Hmmm.

 I seem to have a knack for meeting people in the oddest of places; or rather the most common of places, whilst doing something totally typical (and frequently ridiculous) of me.
 What's typical is me having a leisurely shop for groceries (remember, I'm one of those freaks who actually loves shopping for groceries, and I used to blithely wander the aisles at 1am, creating marvelous dishes in my head), then realizing I have to hurry it up. There's me, speeding around a corner with a shopping cart at Mach 1, on a dead-run mission for not forgetting whatever it is I don't want to forget at the last minute. You can see it coming. I know you can.
 Apparently I needed to meet Thom ("with an 'h'!"), a lovely and very attractive man from Cromwell ("That's to the left and the middle somewhere, isn't it?" she eventually asks, stupidly) who had a shopping basket filled with bread, a couple of baking potatoes, lemons and lots of fresh fish. Alas, Thom was in my way when I rounded the corner-- and I knocked him & his basket aside with my cart. Yes, I plowed down a 6'2" man. Oh dear. 
 
 I gasped in horror/amazement and offered a gazillion apologies; it's not every day that I can unbalance someone his size without injuring myself.  Fortunately he wasn't angry with me, and the lemons and taters hadn't rolled too far.
  I chatter very fast when I'm acutely embarrassed, and well... I was chattering gaily. "Oh! Chervil with the fish? Perhaps tarragon? A little bit of dill & sour cream? Wait a minute. This looks like fish and chips stuffs. Is it for fish & chips? Do you have the malt vinegar" Blah blah blah. I must have been about 18 shades of red, but he had the good grace to simply pick himself (and his produce) up and be kind. "Hmmm. Yes, quite. Well then... Excuse me? Oh. Where is the vinegar, please?"  Ahhh, food. Every time. Magically, I am calm and composed. "Ahh, you're British," I say. "Are you making food to remind you of home?" And onward...  Sometimes I am just plain ridiculous. However, I really do love meeting new people. I just become... too nervous. Then I talk too much. Some will give me a look, and slowly inch away. Others just figure I'm one of "those people" and humor me. *sigh* Anyway.

 I learned that the secret to really good fish & chips (I adore good fish and chips, Oh Lawds I do!) is really fresh fish, certain types of potatoes (I don't think we have most of them, in the States-- at least not in Minnesota), good fresh frying oil/lard (oy, lard!?!)-- and of course the type of beer! Surprise, surprise, Thom will end up using crappy old Budweiser. Apparently his friends told him that the "sweetness" of it makes beer batter do miraculous things. Urk, what? Bleah. Budweiser is not my favorite. Don't listen to them, Thom! Run away!

 Anyway... He was lovely to talk to, and was very nice to the rude American lady who knocked him over (me). I hope his American Budweiser-drinking friends/hosts enjoyed their meal!  They will miss him when he goes back home next week. I already miss him, and I don't know him. I figure anybody who'll recover so gracefully from seeming disaster AND give you a great recipe for fish & chips AND be British-- well, they can't possibly be all bad.

 And that... is a damned long post for a short subject. I wasn't attracted to him. Nope, not even a little bit. *konks head on table* Gah! I'll soak my head now and maybe come back later.

 Cheers & All

 

 Holy Crap.

 There are some days that I love it when I'm not paying attention. When I crash into somebody & falling onto me arse in slow motion, the fact that all I can manage to think of is that they're intensely breathtaking in appearance & smell vaguely of bay rum and chocolate chip cookies is a very telling thing. It's not even close to that trying time of the month.
 What comes out of my mouth next is a regrettably uninspired comment of "Holy Geez!" Of course, they're thinking about what injuries I might have sustained, as they are about a foot taller than me, and I went down first, in a flurry of flailing arms and squawks that could have passed for bird speech.

 I just want to say that getting mildly squashed by people isn't always a bad thing.

 Cheers & All

 Thanks to stumbling my way to a blog kept by Mr. Parkour, I am now wishing that I was about 10 years younger, in better shape-- and that I would magically be overseas when B13-U (Banlieue 13- Ultimatum) is released!
 
 I got to see some sneak peeks of a few scenes.... OH! I don't care if things here & there have gone awry with makeup, placement, continuity, etc... The onscreen chemistry between these two men is absolutely fantastic. I have read that Mr. Belle & Mr. Rafaelli became friends during the making of the first film-- I am so happy that this seems to be true! How fortunate is that? Gain a friend & make a fast-paced, entertaining film that borrows from everybody, yet remains its own. The first film just wouldn't be the same without the many faux pas and rotten continuity & signs that one of the two actors had been laughing his ass off in the previous serious cuts. It's the actors that give the movie its charm. Well, maybe being French has something to do with it, how do I know?
OK,I also find both lead men completely & overwhelmingly attractive. So sue me! I also really liked the tank (Tony D'Amario) who played K2; sadly, according to IMdB, he died of a heart a heart attack in 2005. Damn. In the commentary of the film, he came off as a really sweet guy. *heavy sigh* We really, really need sweet guys.

 OK. Dear Universe and it Contents: In my next life I would really like to be proficient, fluid and focused in at least three forms of martial arts. I would like to be able to make a living writing books. I would also like to be a stunt driver-- who occasionally finds myself falling out of "perfectly good" airplanes while wearing a parachute.  P.S. If y'awl can fit it in, I would also love to play the violin, piano & cello & compose music. Thank you, your Raineth.

Cheers & All
 

 Dang it.

 Don't you just hate it when you find the perfect man, but he's about one lifetime too late/too early? Gah, what a complete bummer.

 He's a country man by trade, location & attitude, who is a few years younger than me. I met him when I went to visit A. & M., and I liked him straight away. I mean, who doesn't like a man who has designed & then built his home, using his own two paws? He has the sweetest pre-teen daughter, has been married & subsequently de-married, and is now a very picky man. Well, with good reason. Comes a time when it's safer to run like Shenanigans than be with someone else. Plus he's got to think about his daughter...

 Anyway. So. A very good man does exist. I'm so happy to be witness to it! It gives me a nice boost. I hope that he ends up with with a most extraordinary woman who loves the living shit out of him, and he returns the feeling.

 I'm off to bed. Early day tomorrow.

 Cheers & All

All things considered, this day could have been quite disastrous-- but ended up being just fine.

I was the only manager on duty today, and it was incredibly busy. Blat! Not that I don't like busy-- busy is good... but not when you're short two key people. The loss of two really makes everyone nervous, lemme tell you.

Then the computers were being wonky. We were short on change. I nearly locked myself out of the office three times in my hurry to get to three different places at once. The floor was a disaster. I couldn't find necessary paperwork for an important series of transactions. One of my cashiers, a very young man that's a bit large on attitude, was driving my primary cashier crazy nuts and didn't want to complete assigned tasks. Hot Pursuit and Fozz E. Bear both showed up at the same time, vying for my... whatevers... and I had to go hide in the office. No, I really did. I just couldn't face that kind of crappio at that hour. I swear I could have watched my hair turn white in distress.

And then, like a shiny light at the end of a bleak fricking tunnel, two volunteers showed up and announced that they would be staying until close. Holy Hannah & her snappy garter! We were saved. I may or may not have worked them nigh to dead feet, but they helped us 1000%, and made everybody breathe easier. Breathing is good for humans.

When I got home, I had  a lovely pasta & bread dinner in the light of the dying sun (granted, I had to wear a sweater due to the slight chill, but Oh Well), and I watched a little bit of 'The Wind that Shakes the Barley,' which was far too depressing to watch on such a nice evening.. I decided to have a glass of wine & catch up on blogs instead. 

Now...  now I am  ready to go to bed. I am listening to a fantastic English Ladymass by Anonymous 4. I want more of their music! It's good for the brain, today.

Cheers & All

 I was right, he wants more than I'm willing to give at this time. I may or may not have seriously balked when he mentioned the word "love." Be smooth, but don't be so smooth that you slide right away from the prize.

 At least he was up front about that part. *snort* What I couldn't get out of Hot Pursuit was whether or not he's still seeing his last girlfriend. Grrrr, quit the evasion-- it means "yes"!  I'm not OK with tromping on another woman's toes, let alone OK with doing stupid shite to incur her wrath. Just the fact that I allowed an embrace (no, not that kind, shush!) would be enough to send some women into a rage. Balls of Ireland, just the mere sight of another woman has possessed some women to murder another woman... and the man. No thanks.

 But he sure can play... It was so very good to hear live music again! Oh yar... Hot Pursuit is a bonifide musician, Hendrix/blues style. Aahhhh. I miss my musicians. I was serenaded, even.

 However, both our pants stayed on.  "For my will is as strong as yours, my kingdom as great... you have no power over me." ~Labyrinth~

 I have no idea what I'm really doing, but don't tell him that. I can give him my support, a taste of my warped sense of humor & my dry wit-- but nada y nada for, uh, "relations" if The Other Woman is still in the picture. He didn't quite get it, that women get hurt over these things-- even if it's long since over. Dur, men can be so danged doofus. It just kills.

 I like him otherwise, though. Not enough to stay, even if The Other Woman was out of the picture (so to speak). We'll see. Who knows, I might just hightail it at any time; I get that way.

 Anyhoo. The meeting (I'm not going to call it a date unless we eat!) was good. I know more, and so does he. Now I am tired, and I must sleep-- I open the store by myself tomorrow (ulp). Fricking 8am. What do they think I am, a morning person? Blat.

 Cheers & All
 

 Flarp. Long retarded day, blat.

 I felt like crap at work, and I'm not feeling a whole lot better now, but Oh Well, it's actually time for bed.

I'm entirely too tired to be awake... However, I need to think. Thinking and sleeping have never coexisted painlessly with me. Ugh, my brain must stop. 
 
 After work tomorrow, I'll be spending a few hours with Hot Pursuit. I talked to him for a wee while on the phone... interesting human, so far. 

 He's all about the "hot" part of the pursuit, though. *sigh* I'm not adverse to it; I'm just not interested in it, right now. 

 OK, off I go to bed.

 Cheers & All 

I was apologetic and sincere. He's still interested.

Damn, does that mean I should consider waxing?? *snort, guffaw*

We have a "get to know you" date set up for Wednesday (what does that even mean?? I'm not planning on anybody getting into these pants without presenting a clean bill of health, thank you very much. I have to live in this body for a long-assed time, after all). Hmmf. Do I trust men? Hell no. Do I hope to trust them again, someday? Hopefully.

Cheers & All