Breaking the Rules

I have a personal rule not to blog about guys I date or my job. I'm breaking one of 2 rules tonight - and it's about the boys not the criminals!
So first of all: I HATE dating. Hate it. It's like a long job interview and sometimes what you think you're applying for is way different than what the applicant meant to advertise for. The only good thing I can get out of it is free food and cheap entertainment. So let's take a quick road down "I hate dating and this is why" memory lane from the past year:



*Hot Detective: What a man to resist! Broke my heart a little bit but I stuck to my guns. On some level I think he was the devil and I somehow resisted temptation. But as time went by I see that he's hilarious, vulnerable and acts like a middle school boy who can't control the monster in his pants. He's fun - perhaps we'll go out for a drink again soon. I love to laugh and reject sexual advances.

*Pervert Pilot: My mistake here. I think I just needed a distraction from the Hot Detective. When I look back this guy really creeped me out - but I can be cynical so I figured to give it a chance. One thing I learned this year is to *always* trust your gut and your first instinct. Oh, what made him a pervert? Well he said...I can't even repeat it. I love pervert humor when it involves humor. When there's no joke it's just creepy. *shudder*

*Dirty Virgin: Again another distraction from someone I won't include on my list. Fun guy but his laugh was horrible. I felt so bad for the other people in the theater. But he made me laugh outside of the theater and could be very sweet. But really, what's the point of being a virgin if you've been so dirty? This whole legalism thing has got to go - if your heart's not in it then it's not worth the dedication. Oh, and he really didn't treat his dog well.

*Chubby Redhead: Very nice guy. No physical attraction. Fun to hang out with - but he reminded me of a buddy from high school I'd hang out with, not someone I'd date. Derek has this theory that I only date guys that treat me like crap - and I think he bases that theory from my boyfriend from 11 years ago. In reality he's just pissed that my crappy ex-boyfriend from 11 years ago was way taller than him, but I digress...(I'm gonna pay for that comment)
Anyway - Chubby Redhead picked the hardest hike of them all. Long story. But the end result on that trail was don't put your arm around me like you're the man after you left your balls at the trailhead. Just saying.

*Dreamy Husky: This is still fresh. Very nice guy and his calm mannerism was contagious. I could feel my icy heart start to melt. But I don't get this whole polyagmy dating thing (Derek's term that I stole). Another hard decision but I stuck to my guns and broke a little piece of my heart. It wouldn't of worked out anyway - I don't think he realized how much I appreciate dirty humor and love to cuss.

So really, I hate dating. It's weird. There's always these new rules that pop up that I wasn't aware of. I always thought things were more simple and traditional. Like the guy pursues the one girl he likes and the 3rd date is the make or break date. And I always go at least 3 dates - makes for better stories.

Plus I like free meals.

First Place!

Surprise Surprise I saw my old friend Jessica at Big D's this weekend! She's amazing folks - not only is she beautiful, smart, funny, tricky (damn grass game), a Doctor, a mother of twins and wonderful wife - but she is also ....*drum roll*.... Spanaway Junior High's past dancing queen!

Oh yea, put on a little Red Hot Chili Peppers and 8th grade comes back to her along with her sweet dancing moves!

(Reunited and it feels so gooooood!)

It was SOOO stinking good seeing you Jessica! What I got you gotta give to your Mama! What I got you gotta give it to your Papa! Everybody join the chorus now!

(Dr Jessica at work...really)

(Jessica's Halloween toes!)

On another note: Shout out to Elle and Jesse for the DELICIOUS dinner and bottle of wine post-run. I can't wait to see more of Ava's art - Red *is* my favorite color - she's a girl after my own heart.

And on another another note: Alan the Ogre is not convinced when I tell him that my faithful blog readers really don't think he's an a$$hole! It was pretty classic when Jessica could tell who Alan was right away by his texting though. Can't say I don't make a good point! But to know Alan is to adore Alan. Except when he's texting. Just saying...

Mouse Toe

No, not camel toe. Pervs. Mouse Toe. I indeed have a broken toe that originated from a mouse.

(Left set of feet, right foot, second toe - pure guilt in the streets of Antigua, Guatemala)

It's a sad story from my youth yet a constant reminder every time I take off my socks, get a pedicure, put on my flip flops, etc. Sometimes I look that broken toe right in the eye and take a picture of it without hiding it. I mean, the mouse lost it's life and I gained an ugly, disfigured toe. I feel the humility is earned. What's even worse? I can't even remember the mouse's name...

(Right set of feet, right foot, second toe - pure guilt on the coast)

When I was in grade school I had pet mice. I also had pet cats. It's not the easiest combination especially when you had determined cats like mine yet mice like mine that had freedom. Once a day I would take a mouse out for a walk out in our front yard. Not joking - I treated those mice good! I'd give them peanut butter jars, build them mouse forts and took extra measure to protect them from my cats.

One of these extra measures was to put a five pound dumbbell on top of their hard wire top. Something way too heavy for curious claws to flip off. So picture this: 10-year-old Krista, home from church on a sunny day with the impulse to share that sunny day with her beloved white mouse. Young Krista takes the dumbbell and places it on top of her dresser and takes her mouse out of the cage. She's just about to put her mouse on her shoulder (the mouse's preferred mode of travel is not in hand of course) and before she can make this hand to shoulder exchange the dumbbell, falls hard, on her toe. And that's where things went bad...

(Post-hike, right foot, 2nd toe - pure guilt and mangled feet on the Pacific Crest Trail parking lot)

So young Krista had no idea what struck her at first but it was pain, pure unexpected pain. She does the silent scream accompanied with the full body tension. You know what was tense the most on Krista? Her fists. Especially her left fist with her precious mouse inside it. Once she realizes what happens she looks at her mouse and sees it's head sticking straight up with the life squeezed vertically out of him. She tries to run out of her room but can only hop on one foot down the hallway to her family. Each hop is accompanied with the climbing realization of the situation: She broke her toe and killed her mouse. So of course as soon as she sees her family she cries "I broke my toe and I killed my mouse!" They just stare at her. For some reason, she throws the mouse at their feet. Don't ask me why - I'm big Krista, I can only speak so much for young Krista.

(Right foot, 2nd toe - pure guilt shared with the sea stacks)

The rest of the day was a blur. Her brother buried her mouse in thet pet cemetary and her Dad had her soak her foot in cold water. Then hot water. Then cold water. Dad was pretty determined that young Krista's toe wasn't broken and that all it needed was hot/cold water treatment and then she can run it off. A week later the doctor disagreed and my grotesque, broken toe was born. Ever since the bone sticks up vertically to the sky just like her mouse's head when she squeezed the life out of it. It even rubs against the top of her shoes and breaks the skin. No, it's not a blister, it's mouse punishment that you see on the top of my second toe.

I found a picture of this mouse on the internet. Look how fragile and trusting it is. Just like I'm sure my mouse was. I personally revoked my rights of mouse ownership after that day.

But while were on the subject - I should really expand this story and tell of how much my parents refused to take me to the doctor growing up: Walk it off, rub dirt in it, soak it in water, put a cold towel on your forehead, etc. I even had to steal my Mom's credit card and drive myself to the doctor with a 104 temperature after 3 days of putting a "cold towel" on my forehead. But, I digress.

RIP Mouse-whose-name-I-can't-remember. There will never be another...