mangolassie’s blog

• Leaving Ikea without making one single purchase
• Having only one plate for lunch at the Indian buffet
• Leaving a drink half-full at a dance club and opting for water instead
  

The world is small but apparently not small enough to put me in a room next to you. Will it be a train taking us both to work? Could it be a party to which we're both invited? Perhaps we're meant to converse on the corner of two Paris streets or on a plane over the Indian ocean. Maybe you'll make a comment on a friend's facebook post and surprise me with your wit, or maybe my comment will be the witty one, and yours will be a ploy to gain my attention. In the meantime, css will be my muse. She becomes more willing every day as I become more ardent in my attempts to understand what makes her work. The universe gave me free software for a reason, to focus on the professional before the personal. So I will see you later, on that train or such.

A bearded, bespectacled cutie came up and started talking to me at a local establishment on Friday night. We exchanged numbers. This is the aftermath. I don’t do modern courtship very well. I have an inability to follow rules and recognize whether or not a potential make-out buddy remains “into me” after initial contact. Being out the game for the second half of my twenties did not help. I have a group of girlfriends that I bug for advice when an interesting male crosses my path. I then decide whether or not to willfully ignore the advice given. Not knowing whether or not to expect a phone call drives me crazy, even if I’m not that interested. I. Am. Not. Patient. I guess I just like definitive answers (or as close as one can get from a guy) in matters such as these. Most of my friends follow the “he’ll call if he’s interested” school of thought. Example below is a case in point of that being true.

Wednesday’s Texting Volley
(initiated by yours truly, the impatient one. Names have been changed to protect the foolish and/or inebriated)

Me: out in my kayak. Are you out in your imaginary one?

Him: new phone. No numbers yet! Who is this?

Me: maybe I have the wrong #. Who is this?

Him: Mike

Me: well, if I have to tell you who I am, I guess I did not make that much of an impression. But then again you were drunk. Local Bar...any recollection?

Him: oh you're liz :)! I remember you. But it's a bit hazy. Did we talk about kayaks?

Me: bit hazy here too but as i recall it you mentioned kayaks cause you thought they made you sound interesting? But i may have that wrong

Him: no, that actually sounds exactly like me, well me tipsy anyway:) People love kayaks.

Me: the actual act of kayaking brought the convo back to me so thought I'd say hi

Him: yes, of course, it all makes sense. Well maybe I'll see you sometime :) i'm driving to Indy tomorrow for the 500. Good times. (editor’s note: The Indy?  Ugh...not for me anyway)

Him: In fact I've never kayaked. But I do bike all over eastern Dane Co. So, there you have it!

Me: Mr athletic points to you then. : ) I’m sure western dane co feels much neglected.

Him: Haha. Well there’s only one of me! I used  to bike over there. Very hilly.

So yeah, not that into me but still was an entertaining way to pass a Wednesday evening. I just feel pleased that I put myself out there. Yay me. (which rhymes with my real name - liz is made-up. Though I probably have my real name elsewhere in this blog 'cause subterfuge? not my thing

May Day 2003

My company has all-staff meetings at least quarterly, if not monthly. I am in the corporate/support services side of it so the bulk of the president’s talks do not apply to me directly. Most of the employees sell things, very big things - so big that you can live in them. I’ve developed this little game of assessing how much of his sales philosophy can be applied to dating. Quite a bit, actually. (Hope you've rested up, quote marks, 'cause you need to make yourselves useful in this paragraph.) “Attract, don’t chase.” Your “energy has to be forward and relaxed as you  present yourself.” There was some get this convo started/small talk advice. He recommends the Socratic method: asking questions. Keep your potential buyer (or  in my case - suitors) engaged, connect with them to build trust. Compliments are good to break the ice. He also mentioned that, while he couldn’t carry this off, an “I love your shoes!” does wonders. (That evening the woman behind me on the escalator at school, tapped me on the shoulder to tell me she loved my shoes. Was she trying to sell me something big enough to live in? Did she want to make out with me? I didn’t ask. I just said thank you.) Then you need to follow up with solid information. In a dating scenario, I don't think the buyer's information packet would be required. In fact, it would be creepy. I suppose I could hand out my girlfriend resume. That actually would be hilarious. I might have to do that one time just for laughs.

i.e. Why I no longer like St. Patrick's Day

These are big words for a girl who once lived in Ireland. I was going to meet the guy I met on okcupid for our second date, scheduled the Sunday before St. Pats. He asked me what I wanted to do and I was all for anything except Madison’s St. Patrick’s Day parade. Last year I was in Chicago for the parade. Spent the eve of the parade eating too much fried food and drinking cocktails in Bucktown. This left me with a sore tummy that kept me seated in the pub balcony. I had a great view of my boyfriend at the time flirting with a woman, friend of a friend, who looked resplendent in green. I went home at 2 a.m. with our host and two other friends to our host’s condo. My ex thought I was making up my stomach woes and told me he was staying out with the others. I barely slept, waiting for him to return, which he never did. He crashed in our other friends’ hotel room, neglected to let me know this. I never got a response to my call and text, finally getting a text response from one of my friend’s at 5 a.m. saying he was there. So yeah, the parade found me tired, cold, somewhat hungover and pissed. And I missed the green river…again. I lived in Chicago for two years and never saw it then either. The ex finally tried to make contact during the parade between noon and 1 p.m. For some strange reason, I didn’t feel like answering. I didn’t see him until 3 p.m. in the afternoon. This whole experience did not make for a pleasant association with a previously fave holiday. Let’s return to St. Patrick’s Day 2009, shall we? So I suggested a museum and drinks instead. We headed to the Chazen, talked art in a friendly non-pretentious way, and then headed to the High Noon for Trad Irish Music and Irish Dancing. Afterwards we grabbed dinner and then he kissed me when I dropped him off by his car. He’s not shy - he also hugged me after the first date. This is perhaps where I went wrong (or rather where I distinguished myself as not easy). My part in both these equations is awkward. That’s just the way I am until I get to know someone better. I’m likely never going to be the sort of girl to make contact with your tonsils on the second date. Okay, so there was that year or so in my mid-twenties where I gave this approach a shot. I’ve since determined that it was very much not my style. Before this kiss, I mentioned that the High Noon was turning into my official St. Patrick’s Day hub of 2009 since I was heading there for the Kisser’s show on the actual St. Pat’s Day. I invited him and strangely he showed up albeit with a perplexing disinterested attitude. He left at 11 p.m. since there was a looming deadline, asking me “If I was sticking around.” I said “yes” not realizing that perhaps this was code for “let’s go outside and make-out” or even more likely “let’s go f*^K.” He mentioned getting together the following week. Not hearing a thing by Wednesday I sent a little exploratory e-mail, “how was your weekend etc…” After a day without response I get a “you’re great (damn straight I am) but let’s just be friends” e-mail. Sure, do you know what I do with my friends? Kick them in the balls, hard. No, I’m not really that angry, just disappointed. And perplexed that he was the one that pursued me for the most part. Not that a strong pattern can be determined after such a short time, but damn. Ok, so his “looking for” included “casual encounters” as well as “short-term and long-term dating” but I assumed he had read my profile and the fact that “casual encounters” were not listed there. So my synopsis of the whole experience is that I was determined cute but unlikely to put out with haste. True. Okcupid and I have since parted ways, not really because the above experience, but mostly because of the messages I’ve received from 47-year olds in Illinois, skeet-shooters and other questionable characters. I just don’t have the time to think of polite ways to say, “I am not into you AT ALL.” Read my profile, guys. Or rather don’t ‘cause it’s too late – account deleted. I think I will stick with the friend-approved potential dates when I return to such endeavors. For now, I have much to keep me occupied, between freelance, schoolwork, training for an 8k run and a 44-mile kayak excursion. So yeah, suck it boys that don’t like me back!!! I reserve the right to compare you to fish, buses and other unflattering things. And maybe, just maybe I'll find it in my heart to wear green by March 17th of next year.

...with more than a touch of that memento mori my art history prof was always going on about. Two more songs I find myself listening to on repeat.

Death - the ultimate in unrequited love?

Kris and I were waiting (not so patiently) in Maharaja for Gia and her boyfriend to arrive. We got in position to sprint to the buffet as they walked in the door. Gia was our little Indian food virgin and Kris and I left her in the dust while we piled up our plates at haste. Was that rude? She did have her helpful bf to help her figure out what was what. Then we were silent while we filled our bellies to prep for our afternoon of drinking craft brews at the FestivAle benefit. FestivAle was packed - we started with the Fauerbach. It wasn't really a strategic choice - it was just closest to the door. And it was good. We had herbal ale, cherry porter, Indian pale ales and on and on. Earlier in the week I had forwarded the ladies the Ale Asylum's newsletter which hinted at full sample glasses for those who mentioned reading about the event in the newsletter. Kris mentioned the newsletter and....boo...regular sized sample. Oh, well. There was no shortage of beer. My tummy was hurting but nothing a sit-down in the balcony couldn't cure. Kris used this opportunity to write out her list of worries. Why, you ask? You'll see. At last my belly settled and we ventured down into the crowd which had thinned considerably since we first arrived. As had the beer supply, the Blu Creek blueberry ale I wanted to try was out. We meandered towards the stage, sampling a couple more brews in the process. It was raffle time. The tall man on the stage was holding up the thermal Ale Asylum shirt that Gia and I had been coveting at the Ale Asylum two weeks ago. And who gets called? Why Gia's boyfriend, that's who! And of course he gives her the shirt. Next is the tank top. And who wins the tank top! Kris! It's adorable with an "Asylum Angels" theme. She gives it to me - yay! Not necessarily 'cause she's nice (though she is) but 'cause it wouldn't fit over her ample bosom. My less than ample bosom is thrilled! Then starts the name drawing for the rest of the six-packs that weren't won in the ring toss. There's loads of these. Gia's boyfriend is called again and then the very next name is Kris's! They had some kind of synergistic gambling mojo together, throwing their tickets in the bowl while Gia and I used the facilities. Rewarded, perhaps for gifting us their Ale Asylum garments. We sat back and enjoyed The Dirty Shirts play bluegrass after the tasting ended. I would definitely see them again, they were really good and I don't think I thought that just 'cause of the beer buzz. The bass player was hilarious and Kris and I were impressed. As they finished, we grabbed some High Noon Saloon matches and headed off to Vilas Park. We were off to observe Get Over It Day, a couple days early. We chose Vilas since it had covered shelters where we could set our worry lists alight if the rain didn't let up. Fortunately the rain was on a break and we lit our lists on one of the bridges, watching them burn in our hands until we couldn't hold them anymore. Then we let them drop into the icy water below. Kris and I enjoyed the ritual burning so much that I grabbed my beer tasting literature from my purse and gave her some and we continued burning things. Yeah, we're both pyros. We also have matching pajamas but that might be a story for another day.

Things to get over