Mini Me

Christmas was a blast. Charles and I set out for my mother's place and made it there without event. My car, however, died while I was away, so I am now the proud owner of this little number:

I have been salivating over this car for quite some time, so I figured there was no time like the present to dive in and break me off a piece.

It's fully loaded, too, with heated seats (which Charles loves) a sunroof, and basically every other bell and whistle I could desire. And SO much easier to park in Baltimore City even than my old beetle.

Methinks I shall be taking more road trips in the coming weeks!

Fill up my stocking, fat man!

I'm stuck at work on the day before Christmas Eve, and other than the fact that I'm annoyed as hell that I can't be at home with Charles and wrapping up all the baubles I've bought my near and dear, I'm managing okay. My boss--a truly psychotic woman--is off for the day shopping at her high-end retail favs and the only people around are the mailroom guy (KIND of hot, actually), the front desk girl, and a few people in a nearby office. In other words, I'm blogging, online shopping, and furiously checking e-mail.
Speaking of which, my mom just e-mailed me to ask if I wouldn't mind leaving Charles at home when I come to visit her this holiday. The nerve! Everyone who knows me knows that if I'm going on a long trip, the cat comes with me. I can't be in some foreign land (or state) without my Charles. So anyway, I told her that if she didn't want him along, I'd have to stay behind as well. That seemed to set her on edge, but she'll get over it. I figure if I have to put up with her weirdo boyfriend, she can roll with my French furry feline.
So mailroom boy just traipsed by my desk and winked at me. You know, he asked me out for drinks once, and I said no. I think I was feeling all above it at the time (he IS younger than I am, after all), but considering the lack of interesting men in this town, I'm not beyond having a cute man take me out for some free liquor.
Must go flirt. Happy Ho Ho Ho to you!

And speaking of ass...

...it's cold as one outside. Apparently winter is here in full-force, and I, a heating bill Nazi, am paying for it. Charles de Gaulle (my cat) and I have been burrowing under down comforters and wool blankets at night, but getting up in the morning to shower is like walking across the tundra in your pajamas. It's not fit for man (okay, woman) nor beast (poor Charles) in here!

That being said, I'm drinking a lot of tea and cocoa and the occasional (does twice a day count as occasional?) liquored coffee. Hey, at least if you're going to be cold, you don't care! I contemplated buying Charles a sweater at the pet store, but methinks he'd scratch my face off if I tried to put it on him. Cats really aren't into 'outfits.'

This weekend I went down to Fells with some friends from work and had a few drinks at some bar (who remembers the name?) and nearly fell on my ass (there's the ass again!) when we were leaving the place. It was late and cold and icy as hell, and, well, when you've had one too many, you aren't really paying much attention to where you're going. Let's just say I'm thankful that there was a designated driver (walker) in the bunch, because I needed some steadying. Who am I with this adolescent 'out till all hours' mindset? Mature people drink at home. This is what I keep telling myself.

Irish coffee anyone?

Christmas shopping bites ass

This weekend, I fled to the suburbs to do some much-needed holiday spending. Because I drive an old VW beetle (looking to get a new car soon), I normally have no problem with tense, tight parking situations. This time was very different and not at all pretty, as I was nearly slammed into no fewer than six times in the parking deck at the Towson mall. I hate that damn place, but what can I do? They have an Anthropologie AND a Crate and Barrel all in one location!

So I'm wandering around looking for gifts for my mom and two best friends, and I realize that this woman is following me. And not casually, either. She's in hot pursuit, although I can't figure out why. And she was talking loudly enough that I could tell she was carrying on a full-blown conversation with herself. Finally, in a surge of confidence (or insanity), I swing around and ask her, "Can I help you with something?" She just points down at my purse and mumbles something to do with 'Margaret.' So I look down at my bag (which, apparently, was setting off something in her very confused brain), and I'm like, "What?" She just pointed again, mumbled again, and then just stood there waiting for me to walk so that she, apparently, could keep following me. I don't know what the hell that was about, but finally, I managed to dodge her in the food court.

About two hours later, after nearly beating several fellow shoppers (ha!) and dropping several hundred dollars on all my loved ones near and far, I was making my way back to the Nordstrom parking area, and I saw the lady again, following around some other woman. Purse fetishist? Catching glimpses of the much-missed and seldom-seen 'Margaret'? Who knows? I was just glad it was someone other than me who was bearing the burden of her weird behavior.

And wouldn't you just know that when I got back out to my car, the person next to me had parked so close that I had to crawl in the passenger side and over the gear shift (literal pain in the ass). Don't think I didn't leave a nasty, fuck-you note on their car!!

Ah, the holiday spirit lives!

No one would ever accuse me of being inhibited....

After much time, space, and a name change, I'm back to the blog world (no hints as to my former life!). I'm hopeful that my days of West Coast living, bar-hopping, and bad boyfriends are OVER. I'm back on the East Coast again - in Baltimore, Maryland, of all places - where I have taken up residence as a cat-owning, cocktail-drinking loner (okay, maybe not totally) who writes and draws and wanders around old neighborhoods on weekend afternoons just to look at the architecture. I'm working in an office downtown answering the phone of this totally insane woman (I'll speak no more about it than that) just to pay the bills, and I'm trying to get my head around this town. I'd been to Baltimore a few times as a child (I grew up in nearby Pennsylvania), but I never spent any real time here. To be honest, I'm not really sure why I moved here, except to say that I found this fabulous apartment in a converted row house, and two friends of mine are in the area and they convinced me I should pack up my shit and settle down.

I guess I'm in hideout mode these days because I've been on three bad dates in the last week, and it's making me realize I want to swear off men for at least the next six months while I figure out my game plan. The men in this town are enigmatic at best. Not nearly interesting enough so far for me to tolerate their adolescent bullshit. If you're 30-something and still trying to get women to flash you for a drink, you need to reconsider yourself. Last weekend, I went with this guy on a blind date to the Redwood Trust, and, after one too many drinks, he actually propositioned me for a threesome with one of his buddies. Apparently, he took me for a fool.

I turned immediately on my heel and walked out of the club, got in a cab, and beat a hasty retreat to my apartment, promptly called my neighbor and informed him that he is on sleaze-watch (unfortunately the ingrate knows where I live), drank a glass of merlot, and went to bed.

Did I mention that I'm over my West Coast life? That is, in all sincerity, the last time I let a coworker fix me up on a blind date. No, let me be more specific: that is the last blind date I'm going on. Signed, sealed, delivered. I'm over it.