Monthly Archives: April 2012

On Mail Order Husbands

This past weekend, I was bemoaning my lack of a dating pool to one of my girl friends.  I don’t even recall how we got onto the subject, except that I think I was talking about how I was so fed up with that dating website, as well as the confusing nature of guys.  Oh I remember now, we joked in passing that one of my previous co-workers at the Retail Store may have been a mail order bride.  [This has absolutely no basis in fact, whatsoever, and I don’t pretend to know the details of her personal life.]  Anyway, we joked about how you would even go about ordering a spouse, and I, being so fed up with the kinds of “men” I have been attracting lately, joked that enough was enough.  I was going to mail order myself a husband.

I thought,  “This ludicrous idea probably has some basis in reality.”  After all, people still participate in this sort of thing, so I was sure that a website to that effect exists.  I decided to do a little digging.  And guess what folks?  Of course a website exists for this type of thing!  This is 2012, and the internet has everything!!

Enter  I was greeted by an aesthetic theme with some handsome fellas near the title bar.

Oooh.  Look at this fella!  He’s so handsome! 

This guy is cute, too!

Well, okay, this website seems interesting.  I bet those dudes cost A LOT of money, and they’re so darn cute, too!  On to other parts of the site to see what they have to offer.

Why, it does feel as though I have been “clicking for love” in all the wrong places!  How did you know?!

This website seems like it could really be the answer to my woes.

After all, this website if NUMBER ONE in “Spousal Order Fulfillment”.  What a neat, politically correct term that is.

Hm.  I wonder how they determine matches?  Oh, a compatibility test.  Well now, that’s legitimate.  After all, every dating website has those, why wouldn’t they include that here?  They wouldn’t just pick random dudes attempting to escape their countries in fear of the local government and in order to become U.S. citizens.  Let’s take a peek at some of the questions:

  1. At a party or large gathering, do you have: a)  Large group conversations with a lot of different people; or b) one-on-one conversations with a few people, known to you? [Hm. Well,  I suppose I would prefer a one on one conversation.]
  2. Do you identify with people who: a) keep a continuous presence of mind; or b) let their minds wander?  [I am not sure on this, so I guess I would pick “a”, continuous presence of mind.  Someone has to keep their wits about them while I attempt to discover new blog ideas, after all.]
  3. Do you prefer to work: a) to deadlines; or b) work? I haven’t worked in 2 years.  [Uuuuh.  Oh.  Well, I have a steady job in which I must meet many deadlines, the most important of which are Court deadlines, so I pick “a”.  That’s a…slightly off question.]
  4. Are you more likely to: a) stay in the “here and now”; or b) converse with imaginary friends?  [What?!  Well to be perfectly honest, I run the occasional dialog through my head but it’s more like that one someecards where one person tells the other that she or he isn’t reacting how she or he imagined he or she would.  That’s not imaginary friends.  That’s just weighing possible outcomes.  I pick “a”, definitely “a”.]
  5. Which of these characteristics do you identify with: a) I enjoy being friendly and helping others; or b) I have been known to torture small animals.  [WHAT?!?!!?!?!  No.  It’s “a”.  That’s messed up.]

  6. Events are more comfortable for you if: a) you can participate in them with your decisions; or b) you can watch from a safe distance behind bushes.  [Okay you know what?!  This quiz is ridiculous.  Just finish perusing the rest of the site, Savanah, so you can report it back to your readers.  They all think you’re a nut job for finding this website in the first place, anyways, there’s no saving you now.]

 Oh goodness…..well those questions were WEIRD.  I wonder who thought up this website and this quiz anyway…


Looks like the diner owner from Two Broke Girls; some random dude in the middle, and sort of a less attractive Steve Jobs with photo-shopped hair and different glasses [yes, I know, that’s a stretch].  I guess that’s not too shady.

 Whatever, they seem like alright dudes.  Except the most normal looking guy, Shahin, was the developer of that whacked-out compatibility test.  Yikes!

They went on and on about their high success rate through out the website.  Let’s check out some of their most successful pairings.

Holy crap!  If Jabba the Hut and Princess Lea  had had a daughter, that’s what she would look like!  

This just keeps getting worse and worse!  That is one scary lookin’ couple!  And it is the ONLY success story they list on their website.  Oh boy…I am losing hope here.

Fine.  I will reluctantly check out the potential “matches”.  I mean, there might be some hope left…they had two REALLY CUTE dudes on the greeting page… right?  Anyone?  Any hope at all?

Bachelor #1:

1) He has long hair; and 2) my name isn’t Julie.  So, I guess he’s out.

Bachelor #2:

Turns our Fuad is a PARTY ANIMAL AND he is HALF PRICE!  Now that’s a deal right there!

Bachelor #3:

It is quite possible that Mike is in the witness protection program, what with no picture and all. 

Bachelor #4:

Hey, he lives in South Dakota!  Wait a minute… I think these guys are being shipped OUT of the U.S. to other countries.  Those poor, poor women!

Okay, let’s have one last look at some other available bachelors:

I have  no more witty description for the pieces of crap on this “Spousal Order Fulfillment” website.

Oh sweet cheese and rice!  This  is a terrible website.  I can’t even tell if it is a serious website or just some scheme to lure poor, idiotic women to enter their credit card numbers and other personal information so that some sweaty, middle-aged, balding man can commit identity fraud.

You know what?!  That is it.  I am done.  I would rather be single than marry one of these losers.


On What is Irritating Me Today

This stupid mother-truckin’ dating website is really starting to annoy the crap out of me!  It went from being entertaining, which is why I used to check it, to simply irritating.  It just serves to remind me, at this point, of my single-hood combined with my uncanny ability to attract d-bags.

1) I will pretty much NEVER meet anyone from this stupid dating website because I don’t want to be murdered.

2) Dudes with NO HAIR keep messaging me, and it creeps me out.  I don’t like long hair; I don’t like no hair.  I like a lovely head of hair, preferably dark and maybe with a slight curl, that is thick and full and NOT BALD!  Quit it, gross men.  Quit  messaging me.  Just stop.  Right now.

3)  Seriously?!  A SIXTY YEAR OLD MAN?!?!?!  What the……  WTF?!  WHY WHY WHY?!    I AM twenty-seven mother f-ing years old.  Hell to the no.

4)  I have said it before; I will say it again:  SPELLING AND GRAMMAR ARE IMPORTANT.  An occasional typo is human but “wut” is not the correct form of “what”  and try using complete sentences.

What is even more annoying is when I meet someone that I think I have a connection with, IN REAL LIFE, and it goes no where!  Here is a tip DUDES:  Girls don’t like mixed messages.  Do not tell a girl you liked hanging out with her, don’t OBVIOUSLY flirt with, and then NEVER CALL, or hell, even text, since I dislike talking on the phone anyways.  I don’t want to play games; I dislike drama;  I can’t STAND clingy.

Let’s break this down:  be honest, be straightforward, quit trying “to be nice and spare my feelings”.  I will not “go crazy” on you.  In fact, what makes me “go crazy”?  MIXED MOTHER F-ING MESSAGES.

Quit wasting my time.

On Things that Confuse Me [No. 1]

Today, I am perplexed.  I am stuck in a state of confusion.  Some things, it seems,  I just don’t understand, and never will.

Like, in this day and age, people constantly take photos of themselves in bathroom mirrors:

I guess if Abe Lincoln does it….

It seems I am not the only who is annoyed by it, see  here and here, for starters.

 Seriously, people, there are some super cheap digital cameras out there!  There is no need to be taking bathroom pics like this:

Yes, fail for sure.  *shudders in disgust*


Put some pants on you d-bag.  Ps: nice chest patch, did you grow that all by yourself?

 I. don’t. get. it.  Even if you can’t afford a new digital camera – remember how they are really, really cheap these days?!  You somehow afforded a new smart phone.  Right?!  [Except pants-less dude; check out that dinosaur of a phone!]  I am willing to bet that your new fancy phone has a self timer.  Find somewhere to prop your phone up, set the timer, and snap away!  My phone even has a camera near the display so I can take a picture of myself without the aid of my bathroom mirror, like that picture from Iowa with the photo bomber.

I am begging you all!  Stop taking crappy pictures, or rather, try to take less crappy pictures that do not show you in your bathroom mirror!  Try any other pose, at all!


Look everyone, if I can take self-absorbed cool-ish photos of myself, while holding my camera, you can, too!

On Barbie Dolls [A Childhood Memory]

When I was young, my sister and I had a ridiculous amount of toys.  More so than my own child does now.  Maybe it was because there were two of us, or maybe because we have so many relatives, but either way, we had a TON of toys.

Our largest collection was, of course, Barbie dolls.  My sister and I had a lot of them.

I would like to think this is what our collection looked like.

But I know it was closer to this, complete with ratty haired dolls missing all of their clothes.

We made a lot of our own Barbie clothes.  You would think I would be a master seamstress, but no.  Oh sure, I can sew a ragged line across a hole in the armpit of my own shirt, but beyond that, I am useless.  [And too cheap to buy a sewing machine.  You see my problem, here.]

We also treated our Barbies poorly.  We often popped there heads off by accident, and then would shove them back on resulting in a freakish fat-headed Barbie with distorted features.

We also cut their hair off.  And when we did not like the hair cut we gave our dolls, we would cut some more. 

Eventually they looked like this.  Little did we know, you can replace their hair with a little hard work.

Instead, we would attempt to replace their heads with others by heartlessly ripping their heads off  and shoving a new one back on resulting in that smashed look I mentioned earlier.  Even if we had re-rooted their, I am confident in saying they would have had glorious new hair, but still have had smashed faces.

We also did not own our own Barbie doll house.  My sister and I spent many hours constructing our Barbie “houses” with old textbooks that we for some reason owned.  I do not have a clue why we had so many old text books now that I think back on it because neither of our parents went to college or were school teachers.  So we had rugged outlines of rooms out of books, that we propped open and stood up, on the floor of our room, and we had the bare minimum Barbie furniture, like maybe a bed and a closet, and I distinctly remember a bathtub/shower thing.  [I remember because I once melted crayons on the lightbulb in my lamp and when I couldn’t get the crayons off of the bulb, I put Windex in the tub part and tried to clean the bulb off.  This resulted in shooting sparks and my lamp going up in flames.  We were poorly behaved little snots overly-curious children, at times.  I would like to think the lightbulb is the original Crayola Crayon Melter.]


There’s no image for my lamp starting on fire.  That would be evidence, sillies!  

 Obviously, I did not learn to NOT play with fire until much later in life.

On What I Did with My Weekend

I have just gotten home from an almost-four-hour long drive home from Iowa,  where I spent a much needed weekend away from Mankato, and catching up with one of my very best friends.  It was amazing.

We ate (gluten-free noodles, say what?). We gossiped.

We shopped a bit, including, tried on shoes.

Fila Skeletoes are difficult to put on, and they are slightly hideous.  I did NOT buy them. 

We drank a bit.

“Twirly straw, braces, and vodka.”

[I have previously stated that I no longer drink vodka, but there is an exception to every rule.  Like when you visit your friend in Iowa.]

We saw some chick cut her foot in the bar and bleed all over the place.

I was unable to obtain a photo of the blood despite valiant and varied efforts, so here is a picture of  us being photo bombed by a rando in the Iowa bar.   Say ‘cheese’!

It was one of the better weekends I have had in a very long time!

On the Reasons I De-Friend People [at least on Facebook]

Once in a while, I cull my list of Facebook friends.  I have 215 Facebook friends currently, and I don’t even talk to one-fourth of them.  I don’t even see one-fifth of their posts, comments, or what-have-you.  I am not about to go and delete the remaing 150 or so people to whom I do not speak, but I probably could, and neither I nor those people would notice.  But really, I delete people for three main reasons:

1) I am no longer friends with that person in real life, and I do not want that person to be creeping on my Facebook page seeing what I am up to, or whatnot.


2) I am tired of seeing that person’s super self-destructive tendencies pasted all over my Facebook new feeds exclaiming over the latest mess he/she has managed to get his/herself into or wondering why everyone hates him/her or just being a general annoying mess.  I do not need to see that on a daily basis.


3)  We are no longer friends in real life, and I need to prevent MYSELF from Facebook stalking that person.

It is usually the last reason.  [Also why I delete phone numbers from my phone.  Apparently, I have a self-control problem.  I am working on that.  Heh.]

On My Heartfelt Gratitude

When I jumped headfirst into the blogosphere, I figured on a few loyal readers in my family and some close friends.  I had no idea.  I may not be Freshly Pressed, but I am not really aiming for that.  What I am grateful for is that people read what I write, at all.  I try to write something that makes an impact, whether its funny or heartfelt or just something to which someone can say, “Oh I hate when that happens, too!” Something people can identify with.  I hear postive feedback quite often, and that is amazing!  In fact, I have only heard two actively negative comments, and I moderated those suckers right out, as they weren’t constructive criticism.

First, some creeper showed up and spammed all my posts by talking about his supposedly giant “man parts”.  When you have to brag, I will never believe that your man parts are large, and I never want to purposely convey false information to my readers.  😉   Second, when I said I disliked brown M&M’s and that my favorite color is black, I was accused of being racist by someone, anonymously of course.  I did not respond then, but what I would have said is as follows:

“First of all black is not a color and brown m&m’s are just as edible. [I know that. Brown M&M’s are simply BORING! I still eat them, silly!]  I once took a 100 level pysch class and i think you are subconsciously racist.  [I highly doubt that I am racist, as my past relationships read like an United Colors of Benetton ad.  And I, too, took psych 100; you do not learn to classify racism.  I still have my book, would you like to borrow it?]  Insofar as not being able to mentally handle eating brown m&m’s. Do they remind you remind you of blacks, mexicans, cubans, and canandiens (canadiens aren’t really ppl though)?  [Again, brown M&M’s do not, in fact, remind me of any race of people.  What does it say about YOU that YOU drew that conclusion?  Oh and, way to spell Canadian correctly.  I also think my CANADIAN readers might have something to say about you classifying them as non-people.] “*

*they are italics [I am bolded]

I have a steady following of Facebook friends, as well as a small set of those from the WordPress Blogosphere.  Wordpress has made me a bit of a statistics junkie by allowing me to follow how many views I have received in day, and the overall total views, as well as from where in the world my viewers hail.  And since I reached all-time high number of views in one day today, I wanted to share my excitement!  106 VIEWS IN ONE DAY AND 2,560 OVERALL!!!!!  WOW!!!!

That is pretty darn exciting!

And really everyone,  THANK YOU!!!

On My Son’s Father

When I first began writing, I wrote about what I think love should be like: madly passionate, takes my breathe away, far above the realm of mediocrity.  I believe that.  And when I wrote about Aaron* and supernovas, that is what it felt like to me, at the time.  But I also believe that love should be steady, and familiar, too.  In my short time here on Earth, I have experienced a fair amount of loves.  Burning, crazy, frantic love, as in the supernova kind I experienced with Aaron, my son’s father, and one other person whom I have yet to share with you; the love of a parent for a child; short-lived love; soul-similar love, as when you meet someone you know is similar to you in many, many ways and you’ll be there for that person no matter the time or place; comfortable love,  like wrapping yourself up in a warm blanket all cozy on a winter’s day.  I suppose if there is a thing akin to true love, other than the pure maternal love I have for my child that is, rather true love in a romantic sense, it would be all of these loves all at the same time, but I think I have yet to experience it.  Some days I feel I might not ever get to, but I plan to hold out for that, though I also plan to just experience what life has in store for me these days.

I said before that one short year ago, I was not as mature as I am today.  It is hard to imagine that one could change so much in such a short time, but I promise, it is true.  What started the change was huge!  Heart-wrenching.

I was in a four-year relationship with my son’s father.  At the best of times, I cannot say if our love was the comfortable kind or the supernova kind, but through out the course of our tumultuous relationship, we ran the gamut.  We were that terrible couple nobody likes to go out with because he reacted jealously whenever I spoke to any other male, and we both picked fights in public places because of it.  I seemed to be under the impression that fighting was a sign of things working because, I mean, we were “communicating” after all.  I blame romance novels for setting up the expectation that after a big fight, people will make up and live happily ever after.  Now, I know that is not the way it works, but this was the me of four years ago, who still thought this way last year, apparently.

He broke up with me New Year’s Day, 2008.  I was utterly destroyed.  I cried uncontrollably on my bathroom floor for almost an hour; I couldn’t catch my breath.  I should never have been surprised that that was coming; as I said, we fought.  A lot.  For six months after that, I tried to move on, but he had changed HIS mind again and again, alternating between loving me more than ever, and then hating me for hurting him.  It came as a surprise that I would not take him back right away when he had been the one to let me go.

But we did get back together,  and it was comfortable love after that.  Like pulling on my favorite old sweater.  It fit fine, a little baggy, but toasty and warm.  Comfortable.  Time passed; we had our son.  It was the culmination of all of our kinds of love, born in a 9 1/2 pound human being that neither of us could love more if we tried.

Unfortunately, we lost track of our love for each other; and no matter the love for our child, I was unable to reconcile myself to a loveless life.  You CANNOT force yourself to feel something that is no longer there.  And believe me I tried.  I spent multiple nights trying to justify staying, trying to force myself to feel, trying to understand where I had gone wrong.  But you know what?  There was nothing wrong with me.  It was quite simple:  I was unhappy because I was no longer in love.  I was in a relationship that was not a relationship any longer.  I had a roommate whom I happened to have a child with.  Our paths crossed for important events: birthdays, holidays, trade-off times for who was awake with our kid, but we did not do anything TOGETHER anymore.  Watching TV doesn’t count, seriously people.

The hardest thing I have ever done was coming to the decision to not be with my son’s father anymore.  For months afterward, I second-guessed myself.  He had said many hurtful things to me.  About how I am selfish, a terrible person, I was doing the wrong thing because I was always supposed to put my family’s happiness before my own, including his.  [For the record, I will always put my child first, but I will never compromise myself for someone else, other than that.  To ask that of someone, that’s not love.]  When I looked into the future with him, all I could see was a dark tunnel of unhappiness, but when I looked into the future without him, I could only see uncertainty and possible financial hardship – but the trade off was happiness for myself, and as a result, for my child, too. [I am firm believer that if the parents, or parent, is unhappy, so too will the child be unhappy; no matter how good you think you are at covering that up, you’re probably not as good as you think.  Children are smart.]   I couldn’t do it.

It has been a bit over one year since I made that decision, and I feel… fine.  It has taken hard work, and yes I cried while writing about this, because it will always be close to my heart, but I am there.  I am okay, and I know I made the right choice for all of us.  We get along, because we love the same little human being we created, and because we love our Q, we respect each other, and it is okay to be apart and raise a child.

So to sum it up, at first I was all:


“Regrets collect like old friends, Here to relive your darkest moments.  I can see no way, I can see no way…And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’tSo here’s to drinks in the dark, at the end of my ropeAnd I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hopeIt’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat.”

But now, I am all:


Yes, they are over.

I am pretty sure Florence has a song for every feeling I have ever had.

*Remember how I changed his name for anonymity’s sake?

**I am betting R remembers it differently, maybe she’ll share her take on it someday.**

On My Excuse for Not Writing Much This Week

I have completely run out of ideas this week for writing.  It cannot be that I have run out of topics.  Can it?!  I mean, I should have 27 YEARS of stories to tell, right?!  Not this week.  This week I have exhaustion.  Complete, utter exhaustion.  A lot of things have happened this week, but at least they are not all exhausting.

For one, my poor little Q-bear has been having asthmatic attacks, and I have had to be up with him at night doing nebulizer treatments, and seriously, that is so difficult!  I have had roughly six hours of sleep each night, with no catch up.  Ugh.

For two, I am pretty sure I will never have a quiet day at work ever again.  Which is completely fine, but I sure would like to catch up and surpass the projects that are given to me so for just one hour, I could complain about being bored.  Ha!  But on another note, at least I have a job that I like!

For three, a cute guy from the not too distant past got back in touch with me.  I mean, it may not mean anything, but who cares?!  It is really fun just talking to him again.  I have always had that little “what if” floating around in the back of my head.  Like, what if we had kept in touch?  Or, what if I do not win this game of Words with Friends?!  Ha.  Well, either way, it is fun just talking to him.

What else… hm, well other than writer’s block, there are not many other things I want to write about, I guess.  But I promise I will get my groove back shortly!


*UPDATE*  I am quite sure that I jumped the gun and getting excited about number three, but Words was fun, while it lasted.  😉

On My [Not So] Secret Love

Apparently today was the day to write about peanut butter cups.  I learned about this from Jamie who may, or may not, have been just a little upset that no one told her in advance of today’s specific writing topic.

But I am not going to write about peanut butter cups – though I do love them, and if Peanut Butter Cups was a man, we would be married, and my name would become Savanah Cups, and we would live happily ever after.  He would be classically tall, dark, and handsome [read: taller than me is not hard, I’m only 5’3″; dark – usually in referenced to skin tone (inception-style read: no pasty, gross, pale, gothic, ghost-y men allowed); handsome, well really everyone is attracted to different things, but all would agree Peanut Butter Cups is handsome]; and lastly, playing guitar or per hap drums would really make me happy.  [In my peanut butter cup family band, I will be the singer. 🙂 ]  Oh, and we would have a family band, as Q has really started to like playing his toy keyboard.


Um.  I guess that means I am team Jacob?  

Nah.  Jacob still looks like an alpaca and Edward still looks he got hit in the face with the back of a shovel.

Whoa!  I was not going to write about Peanut Butter Cups.   Secret’s out now.  I am in love with Peanut Butter Cups.  Le sigh.

Expect romantic updates soon.