Have I told you…

…that I love a man on a Harley?

mmm… LOVE.

Not really the jowley, old men with big guts barely held in by Levi’s that fit his gut twenty years ago, more cute, roughened, “I want to take you for a ride” guys.

Not so much this…

But a little more this…

Not this…

Definitely this…

Mmm… old school skull helmets coupled with custom handlebars. Swoon.

Take me on a ride, baby.

douche nugget

also known as a little nugget of douche, douchwad, buttface head, and you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Today I went running, as you very well know. I was excited about it; in a good mood, in fact.

I was running along our lovely 8 ft. wide cement path that wraps through a park on the bay and along the coast. It doesn’t really ever end and is populated with runners, bikers and Rollerbladers traveling in both directions.

I was running on the right, about a foot and a half away from the edge, minding my own business. The path tonight wasn’t too crowded. I was rocking out and enjoying the sunset.

I had hit my stride and looked up. None other than Douche Nugget himself was running trotting toward me. His Muscle Milk manliness took up a good amount of space, and his tapered sweatpants begged to be returned to the eighties. Oh and his heels didn’t touch the ground. Dude, lose the sweatpants and buy some fucking tights if you want to be a fucking ballerina.

Weird though, that’s not really what phased me. What made me cock my head to the side was the fact that he was RUNNING ON THE LEFT.

WHAT?

Get this: HE WAS RUNNING ON THE WRONG EFFING SIDE.

Then, Douchey McDoucherson had the balls to wave ME off to the side. Like “Uh, Hi, You’re in my way” only he didn’t say anything. Instead he shooed me away with a simple hand gesture…. that looked a heck of a lot like A HANG TEN. I GOT WAVED OFF BY A HANG TEN? The guy didn’t even have the decency to use 2/3 of his fingers. Motherfucker.

So I shot him a “You’ve got to be kidding me” look and ran around him. Why? Because all of that oozing douche could have been contagious.

Farm this.

There is a pattern. I quickly became obsessed with Pioneer Woman after reading her love story. She single-handedly renewed my faith in love.

Then there is Penelope Trunk. She is smart, funny, and fabulously sensible. The story about her and her farmer was amazing and I quickly gobbled up every tidbit she divulged. I just downloaded her audiobook. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Then as a result of all my farmer research (via following these two women), there was an ad that popped up for Farmersonly.com.

Yes, I did. I clicked. I was curious.

Then I realized that is never something I will ever again admit to doing. EVER.

Running out of time

I love the days when I just HAVE to go for a run. When there is barely enough time to justify it as working out, when I should be doing more important things, and when I need to be showered and on my way within the hour.

But I love the run. I love the songs. I love the last minute decision where I came so close to bailing out, BUT I DON’T.

Instead I pull back my hair, shove my keys in my pants and hunt down my iPod.

Then I run, determined. Because if I managed to get my ass out here, I might as well make it worth it.

blog who?

I’m recapping backwards because I don’t remember where I left off.

Had a reunion with all of my friends that I made during a brief study abroad stint in Siena, Italy. They are fabulous, we are fabulous, and we drank more in those four months than most people do in their entire college careers.

So, true to form, they came to San Diego, and we drank. Lots. All day. Adults call it a barbeque. We called it the Drinking Olympics. I won in both the beer pong and bocce ball events. The French have nothing on me when it comes to trash-talking. I can’t help myself.

Before that, there was a work conference in Long Beach, CA. I reunited with an old friend, who seems so together and right with it all. I envy her. We ate a lot. With a little help from a veteran in my business, I was re-inspired. Maybe work won’t suck this week.

I finished the last book in the Twilight Saga series, Breaking Dawn. Amazing. I am pretty sure there will be more.

I have had a movie sitting by my bed for 4 weeks and it still has not been watched. I am also determined to watch season 1 of GG before it comes back on.

Hoff and I have been texting. People keep telling me how nice he is. Nice doesn’t replace a spark. I am just not feeling it.

I have had a short fuse the last few months which I attribute to stress from work and money shit. I got pissed at my Dad the other night for trying to help. NOT GOOD. This needs to be remedied, so I am upping the workout routine. It always makes me feel better.

DEBT. When will it effing GO AWAY? Looking for a second job.

some days

Some days the day just moves. It goes at the perfect pace, no faster or slower than I expect it to move.

Today was one of those days. There was time for the beach and grocery shopping. Time for green tea lattes and laundry. Time for reading, baking and showers.

Some days I am organized and flawless. Some days are easier than others.

I know that the days when it matters, don’t usually end up being my some days.

However, I appreciate that on days like this, a little boost of easy made today a some day.

Breathing Easy

I went from work to hang out with Pants tonight. I miss her from college and was excited to just chat, swap stories and calm each other’s angst about the future.

We saw Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 and giggled the whole way through, especially every time Leo was on the screen. Swoon-worthy for sure.

I drove home and was breathing comfortably. I have been reconsidering my career choice and looking for extra work on the weekends and today, finally, I felt like I was moving in the right direction.

Nothing changed, but I felt that for a second I could stop looking to see “what’s next?

Looking at where I am in my life, I am having a good time. I enjoy the days as they come. Pants and I agreed that our problems seem so trivial compared to those of other people my age. Divorce? Moving in with Cesar the Peruvian line cook at Macaroni Grill after three weeks? Yikes. I’ll take a little bar makeout session any day.

Postponed

Does no spark now mean no spark later?

Hurt hurts more

on the other side.

I am sure of that. I have been there plenty of times.

I am worried now. I liked the idea of Hoff and I, but I liked it better when I didn’t know bad kissing was a part of the equation.

I can already feel myself forming the reasons in my head. We can’t do this because he lives two hours away and I won’t do long distance. Been there, done that.

We can’t do this because I don’t need an everyday boyfriend. I did that once too. Turns out I like my life better this way.

We can’t do this because I need passion and a little bit of spark.

Can we just take it slow? Let’s not try to make anything of it? Why can’t it all mean nothing?

I don’t want to lead him on.

sparkless in the darkness

AKA Slow Motion: Part 2

I saw Hoff on Saturday for the Padre game, where we had a great time. I smiled quietly to myself (yes, I usually smile loudly) when after a beer or two, he opened up, talking candidly about his family and his students.

Oh the amount of work it took to get to that point.

We move at different paces. Mine: quick, hurried and always just a little too eager. His: shy, reserved, slow to make a decision, slow to MAKE A MOVE.

I saw him again after he drove two hours to come stay with me in SD. He lives in his hometown and doesn’t have much to do until school starts, so I invited him to come hang out at my place. We went to the beach, out for drinks, and cuddled on the couch. We made out a little bit that first night and the next day were back to platonic pals all over again.

Tuesday day? Fabulous. However, Tuesday night in the sack wasn’t so happening. Kisses were sloppy and fingers were fumble-y (I can hear all of you cringing, thank you very much). There is going to be some major tongue tutoring if this is going anywhere.

The slowness, go-with-the-flowness that I love about him does not translate well in the bedroom. I’m a little more do me up against a wall in a passionate moment, and I’m not sure that thought has EVER OCCURRED to him. I want effing fireworks.

I get that it might just come with time. Clearly- if everything else has taken this long. I mean, I’ve known the guy for 3 years, maybe the sexiness will come in another three.

Patience is a virtue. And me and my sloppy kisses are patiently waiting in the dark.