Quite Douche

Throwing the word douche around lately just doesn't have the same fun impact it once had for me. I was watching a video clip with Tim Daly and his son and all that kept being sad was too douche, big time douche etc but when Pops uttered "Quite Douche" I couldn't stop laughing. It was a nice new way I plan on using the word when referring to some prick.

Let's try it in a scenario:

"Last month I had some things delivered to Chris on his birthday, you know a cake, some flowers to take to his Mom... you know to let him know I care even though we're 2918 miles apart. Last week it was my birthday and he texted 'Happy birthday to you and that fantastic bottom', what do you think?"

"I was IMing with Chris and I happily let it slip that I put the Los Angeles house on the market and have that job interview in Boston next week. He started a big fight, when I asked him to call me so I could tell him about it. He typed, he never wanted to talk to me again. What do you think?"

"Oh Niki, he's quite douche."

See isn't it a nice, fun with a touch of class way to refer to a thoughtless prick?

I never said I was good at picking the right man for me but I keep on trying.

The Two Tap

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I had the night off from Mama duty. Ah, fuck it. I shot Scott a text that I was free, after all he did say if something opened up sooner then Saturday to let him know. He had some Jazzercise class he was going to but could meet up after. Perfect, I can work late on all the shit I don't do during the day when I am blogging, texting, tweeting, jerking off in my office then run home to dust off the pretty parts and meet up.

Was I nervous? Yes, I had talked rather intimately with this guy on the phone for a couple of weeks and probably built up the situation to be more than it was going to be. But I figured he'll be a little nervous too. WOW was I wrong!! The guy didn't even smile when he walked into the bar to find me sitting there with my RBV (Red Bull Vodka) with lime. I stood up to hug him and I got this polite yet cold embrace. Ouch number one.

Let me back up for a minute... I fucking used Nair before meeting him. I am not that kind of chick. I don't slather on toxic hair remover only to burn the shit out of my overly sensitive, uber white bordering on translucent skin for anyone. Red toenail polish had been applied, hair extra coiffed, light make up but dark lips to give the illusion that I was pure as the driven snow but painted mouth as to say I'll blow you the second I see you. Jesus, it took me almost two fucking hours to peacock it out. I am not ugly but I really wanted all my i's dotted and my t's crossed to meet Scott. He can get everyday, a little scruffy sometimes Niki down the line. The outfit was cute too, jeans, little black vneck t-shirt with a touch of silver shit on it to match my ultra sexy dark silver strappy shoes with just enough peep to see those shiny toes. I was sexy with out being slutty.

I got to the bar that he suggested and we agreed upon about 15 minutes early. Cool little joint in NoHo (North Hollywood). One of those places that you have to know it's there to be able to find it, no name, no address, just a red light bulb over the drab door. It was a Tuesday night so the place was quiet with regulars hanging out in two pockets of groups. Hipster set on the couches casually talking and occasionally pulling out iPhones or Blackberrys to check on whatever needed checking. The "one drink" group hanging at the end of the physical bar with the bartender. These are generally those that live near by, are bored and think I'll go down to Match for "one drink and say hi to Kitty". Yes, the place is called Match and I'm not making that name up.

Kitty, a cute, petite black woman with short blonde hair and a pretty smile asked me "what can I get for you?". I looked at her loveliness and thought if it doesn't go well with him, maybe a few chocolate kisses could be nice. I was so sexually charged to meet him that everything and everyone was turning me on. She poured me a strong drink and noticed she had some horror flick on the big screens on mute. There was some old Squeeze playing on the jukebox. I felt oddly comfortable when I walked in because no one really gave a shit. Here's the thing about LA bars, everyone looks at the door when any one walks into their watering hole and generally the bartenders are too cool for school. But not this place and not my Kitty. It and she was just cool.

I stirred the drink a bit hoping the melting ice would take the bite off the vodka. With sheer panic I realized no one had any idea where I was so immediately picked up my phone and text my friend Hildy. "If I turn up missing tomorrow, let the police know I went to Match in NoHo to meet Scott Pilgrim. Search the net Hildy, he's all over it. I met him on nerve. Tell Bean I love her." It parsed into two messages. To which she replied, "Ooooo, is this the guy you told me about? Wait, I thought it was happening on Saturday night?" I filled her in and we decided if it didn't work out with him or her soon to be husband we'd be old lady roomies down the line. I was feeling good, I had immediate plan B, Kitty and future plan C, Hildy.

We come to the part where he walks in, he looked handsome but I knew what he looked like from the video's online I had googled earlier the week before. He has his own business that involves a certain niche market that deals with entertainment and celebrities from time to time. No it's not porn. He had on these dark brown cord like pants and a black t-shirt. Doesn't sound as good as it looked but he looked good. He's got an eighthead which he called it so I am not being unkind. Besides my brother has been bald since 17 so I know what a sensitive subject that can be for a man. A goatee and a few extra pounds but that's not something that has ever bothered me about a person. I did notice later when we moved to the couches after he ordered his tequila and ginger that he kept pulling at his shirt right at the belly part as if to say he was uncomfortable about his size. But I just thought he was adorable.

He asked me if I was nervous, I answered honestly and then I asked him if he was to which he was honest too. "No, actually I almost canceled. I'm really tired." Ouch number two.

Fuck me no smile, almost a blow off. Ok Ok don't over think it, I started chanting in my brain. I try a new approach. "Can I just say I think you're very handsome." And here's the reply and red flag, "Thanks, and thank God you look like your pictures."

Dudes, I was so like, really?! Really?! Did he just say that. For my young friends reading, um that means two things 1) he doesn't know how to compliment a woman and B) he's an online serial dater. (Yes 1 & B were on purpose.) Of course writing this in hindsight, I understand that now but at the time I wasn't as quick, I simply thought he was being jerky. Now for all my experience woman reading, why do we continue the evening at this point? Because the situation and the jerk then becomes a challenge to get the compliment, be the one pussy he can't live without and him to never have a need to online date or date at all again; for I am the one and I will make him see it. Retarded thinking and yet so many women have done this and the following things.

More to come...

Jamie...finally

I fell deeply in lust with my daughter's father making out one night to Jamie Cullum's Twentysomething. At the time I did confuse it with love but I knew I was no longer in love or lust when we actually saw him live at the Hollywood Bowl years later. The lack of trust and disrespect had already rooted itself so intensely that it had broken our foundation. There was nothing left to repair. The morning after the cocktails, moonlight and bad sex (of course there was sex, isn't there always at the end) I was sad thinking that every time I would hear that album I would think of such a ridiculously failed, flawed and unneeded relationship that it was... except for our girl.

You're sitting there reading this thinking this is all about the baby daddy but it's not.

Simply put, I want to fall in love again. I received an email with the latest Cullum album about to "drop" The Pursuit. I took a listen to it and it reminded me of that second album of his that brought me such pleasure one night. I hope it's as good; wasn't a big fan of the last one. Don't get me wrong it was good for the direction he was taking but too big, too over produced. This one has that analog tape mix sound like Twenty did. And the first video looks like a take on a Wes Andersen flick. Some of my favorite movies.

I feel like Jamie is finally back to basics and maybe I am too...finally.

That is all, now go back to surfing the net while at work!

I'll fuck it up anyway

So back to the online dating board. Puke. Recently, I went back on one of the more fun sites to add my profile. Match is just too fucking uptight for me. Or maybe bland is a better word for it. I prefer the dive bar vibe of interweb courting.

I found this guy's profile and could not stop thinking about it. I mean could not stop for days. It was funny, irreverent, sort of sad in a I have had life altering moments kind of way and it seemed genuinely honest. I have never read an online profile that said I like TV. Generally, it's "I don't have a TV" or "I only have my three shows otherwise TV rots the brain and I prefer NPR" bullshit. Really?! Then riddle me this you liar, why the fuck are there like 4000 channels now? Because no one is watching? Give me a break.

I think it was either the thumbnail size picture of him in a astronaut suit with a puppy or the caption about his cocker spaniel being a killer, or the part in his bio where one is asked their favorite sex scene to which he answered "all of them" that got me. I hadn't purchased a "silver or gold" membership yet just signed up for free hence the tiny pics. I could however "flirt" with him and "hotlist" him but not email with him or see full size snapshots. Besides I promised myself that any guy would have to do all the pursuing but I could let him know I was interested. So I hotlisted him, hit the wink icon, hoped for an email and wondered if he was remotely good looking. Mind you this was days after looking at his profile. I figured if I am thinking about it this long then I must want to meet this man.

A couple of days later he hotlisted my sweet ass and flirted back but no email. I saw he too was a free user. I scoured the web native application for how one can email without plopping down $22.95 for a month's membership. I didn't realize but uploading pictures gave me credit points which I could use for emailing members. So I broke my first rule and sent him a note with my real email, well one of seven addys I have, figuring maybe he's not nerve.com savvy. He actually replied thanking me for my email and saving him the $22.95. I continued reading and thought I was reading something I wrote. It was, except for the actual words, completely my style, tone, rhythm. It was so off putting that my response seemed disjointed, full of contempt and non sequitors. He replied and asked me for my number. What, didn't I scare him off with my bitchiness or the fact I have a child? I replied with it, he called a few hours later.

I am fucking retarded about Scott! And I haven't even met him. It's the tone of his voice, our morning text and late night calls. I do know what he looks like because he's all over the net. Yup I googled him and I told him I did to which he said he did the same. I know I'll fuck it up but god damn there is something about him and I really think he may be... and I haven't felt this way about anyone since Robert and that was almost 20 years ago. I am nervous to meet him this weekend. I am older, insecure in some ways and more secure in other ways.

I know I started this all wrong but what if I am right about him?

Have to start the story somewhere...

I just wanted a glass of water not the truth at 5 in the morning. But obviously that wasn't true when I saw his journal peeking out of the bag on the floor next to the front door. It was not right of me to read it but I was sick of the nagging feelings in my gut. Things were already so fucked up between us and horrible atrocities what more could there really be to learn. Times had been kind of nice lately and I told myself I was looking to see something nice written about me.

In black ink on white paper the words jumped out of the last entry like syringes filled with liquid shock and anxiety mixture piercing my skin and injecting me into nausea. Ironic I use medical terms to describe my disgust but I'll get to that in a minute. Words like "another visit, new technique, enormous tits, pound that pussy" made my eyes being to vibrate. That fucking whore, that fucking whore was all I could think with my mouth open and hands to my lips. Of all the people he could stick his prick in, it had to be the one female friend I had been confiding in for the last 8 years since moving to this cesspool of immaturity and insecurity. (Yes, I am talking about Los Angeles.)

The entry had been dated 12/8 noting the latest encounter had taken place a week ago. Which meant Thanksgiving. The one where my Mom flew in, his parents and our friends all broke bread. All except this cunt. I had been distrustful of her in the past but my stupid ass always likes to believe people make mistakes, learn from them and grow to be a better person that doesn't repeat those errors. Or at least recognizes them right away and tries to correct in the moment. Shit I have made a 1000 mistakes, blunders, dumb remarks and I am sure I'll make a 1000 more but I try to learn and modify so the next faux pas isn't so destructive. Therefore, I remained her friend through the lies, inconsistencies and pain inflected. For that I take my shame in not listening to my instinct that she was a bad person at the core.

10/21/09
I had always planned to come back to this one day and finish this entry but I choose to stop writing here although I could go on for days... but what's the point. It gives power to a horrible time, disgusting people to which I have since moved on... oh and for anyone that was curious about the syringe remark, the whore is a doctor. And she is a whore but something I recently realized, when she's all done being rode hard and put away wet, is what will she have in her world to be proud of? Being a sloppy second her whole life, (this wasn't her first time with these shenanigans, other pals have come forth with similar stories) no kids that love her and no friends. I hope she does become a better person but I can't say I think she will. I know too much about her mental defects to think she can ever change or even learn how to, too far gone. Farewell, good luck and God Bless your sad soul.

As for La Douche, I have to have a relationship of civility because I will know him the rest of my life. We have a child together and without a doubt she is the best gift he every gave me, the only one that matters so I forgive myself for loving someone so thoughtless.

Capra Got it Right!

My girl, Bean we'll call her, loves Curious George and all I heard was "George! George! George!" when I would ask what she wanted to be for Halloween... I spent countless minutes online looking for a "George" costume only to find them too small. So I broke down and took her to Hollywood Toy & Costume in the heart of Hollyweird; they certainly would have to have it in her 2T size. Me in my Saturday morning Mom outfit, jeans and a T with a cap slightly cocked to the side. Bean of course now understanding she can wear whatever she wants and I let her on the weekends, donned her jeans, hot pink belt, Abby Caddabby (sesame street character) shirt, pigtails, pink shades and my favorite... white & pink snow boots with white sparkling fur. I swear to Buddha it was about 90 degrees that day but she had to wear those mukluks and who am I to interfere with a girl’s sense of fashion. But I think my treasured moment was when we were strolling down the boulevard of dreams and she decided holding my hand was un-cool and thrust her hands in her pockets and sashayed over the stars of Fred Astaire and Jackie Chan. I was irritated that we were walking and she is supposed to hold tight to my protective grip but tickled crimson that she was becoming her own America's Next Top Model except she's smart, genuinely funny and not on a dumb reality show.

As we attempted to try just about every costume in the shop, I remember a lot of "no" and "take it off". I was becoming warm with frustration but remained calm to the on looker. The clerk, Victor, was working hard to help but the George there was too small, the lady bug boring and the princess dresses falling flat. I gave up and said “well I guess today's not our day”. And as we started the sad Charlie Brown Halloween walk there it was, "Mommy look"... She tried it on, no fuss, patiently sat in my lap waiting for her turn to look in the mirror and when she did, she grinned from ear to ear, thoroughly examined the outfit then began to dance in it. Victor and I shared a look, a smile and as I said "I'll take it", he asked "should I ring it up?"

Finally Halloween was here. She kept singing “Happy Berfday Halloween” and in an odd way her song was right since technically it was the Celtic New Year. We walked down Bryce off Broadview and it was like a rock concert for kids. The street was over flowing with little Batmans, Snow White by the dozens, Ninjas and fairies of all varieties. As we headed to the first porch with purple plastic pumpkin in one hand, this time she was not so defiant, more the nervous little puppy her character suit portrayed, her other paw squeezing me tight she shyly whispered trick or treat. Without skipping a beat the older man in the tie-dyed shirt and baseball hat kneeled down to her level and said, “Rut-Ro its Scooby-Doo!”

As we made our way back up the other side of the street, Dad playing Shaggy, I playing dorky Mom with the camera and Bean as Scoob, we got to witness her shift in comprehension. Evident when she said, “go to nother one” and comfortably walked past fog machines and strobe lights on her own to say I got a Scooby and point to her little suit. All the pieces we’d been talking about finally being put together to create her first trick or treat adventure. I slowed my pace to watch Dad and daughter walk hand and hand, black spotted brown fur with a wagging tail a little droopier then when we began and I felt tremendous joy fill my soured soul. I snapped a quick picture of them because I never wanted to forget that memory and if I do that picture will cross my path and I’ll probably well up again. There’s a reason they are called once in a lifetime moments.

We sat on the floor in the living room just as I remembered doing with my Mom and poured the Scooby snacks on the floor. Still in her costume but the head piece now pulled down and weighing heavily around her neck, I kissed her sweaty sweet smelling head and whispered I love you. I carefully examined the loot for razors and any hazardous materials nothing except for a stale ass 6 month old chocolate Easter egg. I threw that one out obviously. We shared some M&M’s and she asked for more. It was late and I really don’t like her eating sweets but damn it, it was Halloween so I said one more. She considered each piece looking, looking…”dis one”. Perfect, a Baby Ruth for my baby. She sat in my lap again patiently waiting as I opened it. I watched as it melted in her hands, smeared on her face, the imprint on my jeans as she used my leg to push off to stand, turn and face me. I asked her if it was good to which she grinned that grin again only this time full of gooey teeth and with a sugar high loudly exclaimed “YES!” She jumped on me, hugged me tight, pulled back and kissed me so hard I now had chocolate on my lips. “Nother one?” I laughed from my heart.

At that moment I felt as if I had just found Zuzu’s petals in my pocket only mine were chocolate kisses.