December 31, 2010 - (CHIP)
Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present ….drum roll puleez, the first DATE REVIEW of 2011.
Oh my.
It occurred on (New Year’s Eve).
His eyes did not light up when I entered the room. He talked about his x-girlfriend and his x-wife after I advised, “I’m not really interested in talking about past relationships”.
He was seated at the bar. I said, “I feel awkward about pulling out my own chair”. He lept up.
(It’s part of my new “technique” to educate men how to treat ME.)
He had difficulty maintaining eye contact. Another fella did this before. I didn't like it. When I refused to see him again he frantically emailed me beseaching:
Why don't you likkkke meeee?
Anyway, my first instinct was to ditch Chip. But....
I was feeling peckish.
He claimed to be a "foodie". But failed to order the heirloom beet salad.
I eyed him, suspiciously...he said:
1. I can’t believe you showed up.
2. You look like Giada from the Food Network.
3. Did you used to be a model? (Yes, double chins are very popular on the runway.)
4. You’re terrific and not a bad date, let’s have dinner.
5. I want to cook for you. Bring your nephews to my restaurant.
6. Grabbing my hand trying to kiss me, “I like you already.”
7. You probably have millions of guys. You use them then spit them out. You’re just dating for fun.
8. Running after me…where are you going? I got you these balloons AND a tiramisu to take home....
I dunno. I got bored.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
It's Raining Men...Again!
The thing about men is...they are everywhere...God love them.
Tomorrow night, I meet this feller. (below).
He owns a restaurant. He's a bit edgy. Stay tuned for the rest of the line up. I think you'll be shocked. I've changed my attitude about dating...every man that shows up, I think, has something to teach me...about myself. I'm gonna look at it like free therapy.
The next guy is below. He's not what he appears to be, which I love about him.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Coming "Out of the Closet"
“Hey Santa! Put on your knickers and come out of the closet!”
How many times have you said THAT?
I did last night. My assistant balked at my use of the term “knickers”. (I thought it was funny.)
I’d planned a holiday event for 550 people. Santa had an oxygen tank. He concealed it beneath his beard.
He was dressing in the coat closet. For some reason, he wouldn’t come out. When I referenced his “knickers” he laughed…then opened the door.
Some people think event planning is glamorous.
I was looking pretty snazzy in my fitted suit. I had a clipboard. I was in charge.
I had 30 volunteers to coordinate, games, a DJ, dancers, food nightmare AND my two nephews who adorably agreed (I forced them) to run carnival games for the children.
Suddenly a tall, EXTREMELY good looking man was standing beside me, smiling.
“I volunteered to help drop off your materials. But now, I can’t leave.”
I lowered my clipboard, for a moment, and smiled back. A few minutes later we were chatting about something and he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.”
“I have no idea why I just did that”, he said.
I began ignoring him. (I had a lot to do.) He left.
But …he came back.
Of course, you know me, I blew him off.
But I thought about it later…considering why I do that? His simplicity and interest- why did it make me freeze?
Then, miraculously, I figured it out.
How many times have you said THAT?
I did last night. My assistant balked at my use of the term “knickers”. (I thought it was funny.)
I’d planned a holiday event for 550 people. Santa had an oxygen tank. He concealed it beneath his beard.
He was dressing in the coat closet. For some reason, he wouldn’t come out. When I referenced his “knickers” he laughed…then opened the door.
Some people think event planning is glamorous.
I was looking pretty snazzy in my fitted suit. I had a clipboard. I was in charge.
I had 30 volunteers to coordinate, games, a DJ, dancers, food nightmare AND my two nephews who adorably agreed (I forced them) to run carnival games for the children.
Suddenly a tall, EXTREMELY good looking man was standing beside me, smiling.
“I volunteered to help drop off your materials. But now, I can’t leave.”
I lowered my clipboard, for a moment, and smiled back. A few minutes later we were chatting about something and he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.”
“I have no idea why I just did that”, he said.
I began ignoring him. (I had a lot to do.) He left.
But …he came back.
Of course, you know me, I blew him off.
But I thought about it later…considering why I do that? His simplicity and interest- why did it make me freeze?
Then, miraculously, I figured it out.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Event Planning for Pot Heads?
I was hired to oversee an art auction. My client was not “typical”. They were a non-profit organization.
The first indication this would be, um..“different”? It took place in an “alternative” coffee shop.
“I’m okay with “alternative”...despite being conservative.
I’m complex like that.
Some of the artists didn’t show up. My team represented them at their “art stations”. I held out for the artist that sketched lovely drawings of whales...and a couple of Jesus portraits.
I respectfully placed his bio in a cracked plastic frame. There was a reason he hadn’t shown up.
He was incarcerated in the State Penitentiary.
He wasn’t the only one.
I cajoled a volunteer to rep the artist that crocheted….wait for it….lingerie. Hilariously, the cup sizes of the bra didn't match, not even close. The panties (yellow and pink yarn) were thong-style.
After minutes of misrepresenting MY artist, I joined my young volunteer and her unsellable lingerie. She was with an older gentleman (my age) I assumed was the artist.
“Interesting lingerie set,” I commented. “Those leather pouches are cute too”.
“Have you seen the other side of the pouches?” the man asked. He flipped one over, revealing a depiction of a marijuana leaf. (He’d been concealing the leaf in order to increase sales.)
“We have matching lighters, too” he smiled.
I burst out laughing. The young volunteer planner (a University of Denver student and my protege) interjected, “Charmaine, I’d like you to meet my father, Jerry”.
“Are you a professional pot-head?” I asked.
“I’m an archeologist” he corrected.“ I have a business with 20 employees. I have a Vineyard in the mountains. I'm NOT the artist.”
“This small leather pouch is perfect for a crack rock” Jerry said to a customer.
We laughed... punch drunk. His daughter watched us, rolling her eyes affectionately.
I whispered, “The customers are going to think we’re high.”
“I know,” he giggled, “Isn’t it great?"
The first indication this would be, um..“different”? It took place in an “alternative” coffee shop.
“I’m okay with “alternative”...despite being conservative.
I’m complex like that.
Some of the artists didn’t show up. My team represented them at their “art stations”. I held out for the artist that sketched lovely drawings of whales...and a couple of Jesus portraits.
I respectfully placed his bio in a cracked plastic frame. There was a reason he hadn’t shown up.
He was incarcerated in the State Penitentiary.
He wasn’t the only one.
I cajoled a volunteer to rep the artist that crocheted….wait for it….lingerie. Hilariously, the cup sizes of the bra didn't match, not even close. The panties (yellow and pink yarn) were thong-style.
After minutes of misrepresenting MY artist, I joined my young volunteer and her unsellable lingerie. She was with an older gentleman (my age) I assumed was the artist.
“Interesting lingerie set,” I commented. “Those leather pouches are cute too”.
“Have you seen the other side of the pouches?” the man asked. He flipped one over, revealing a depiction of a marijuana leaf. (He’d been concealing the leaf in order to increase sales.)
“We have matching lighters, too” he smiled.
I burst out laughing. The young volunteer planner (a University of Denver student and my protege) interjected, “Charmaine, I’d like you to meet my father, Jerry”.
“Are you a professional pot-head?” I asked.
“I’m an archeologist” he corrected.“ I have a business with 20 employees. I have a Vineyard in the mountains. I'm NOT the artist.”
.
“Okay people.” I barked. Let’s sell some a marijuana pouches! Bonny, please model the crocheted lingerie. Don't look at me like that."
“This small leather pouch is perfect for a crack rock” Jerry said to a customer.
We laughed... punch drunk. His daughter watched us, rolling her eyes affectionately.
I whispered, “The customers are going to think we’re high.”
“I know,” he giggled, “Isn’t it great?"
Monday, November 1, 2010
I married a ZOMBIE!
Some things go without saying...
Take your eyes off the knife and I'll tell you something...
I've never cared for my profile...(I have chin "issues".) And I didn't really marry a zombie.
...and I love Halloween.
Most witches (so you know) need help. I prefer zombies.
So I made some.
"Wanna' be a zombie kid?" I asked.
...then poof! Zombie.
Could he be a Zombie model? "Hell yes," I cackled. When you consort with Zombies you begin using bad language.
...another zombie appeared from beneath a bloody grave.
My sister whispered, "Man oh man, weird things happen when Charmaine is here"
We stared back, blankly, and went outside to play "I'm Melting".
As darkness fell... our haunted mansion sprang to life. Fog swirled, tinted with goulish green light. Music from "Halloween" blared from a cracked window. My brother-in-law sat beside the front door..then freakishly...moved. A little girl, dressed like a bumble bee, shrieked.
"You should NOT scare small children" my sister scolded.
"We won't do it again, " I said witchily
I advised my zombie's: "Scare the hell out of the next batch of kids." If they're little, go for the parents.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq6pekM6sZQ
As darkness fell... our haunted mansion sprang to life. Fog swirled, tinted with goulish green light. Music from "Halloween" blared from a cracked window. My brother-in-law sat beside the front door..then freakishly...moved. A little girl, dressed like a bumble bee, shrieked.
"You should NOT scare small children" my sister scolded.
"We won't do it again, " I said witchily
I advised my zombie's: "Scare the hell out of the next batch of kids." If they're little, go for the parents.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq6pekM6sZQ
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Beanies...Oh Baby!
It happened.
I purchased an article of clothing from Walmart.
It’s not that I'm a snob. (Okay I was.) One of those has-no-money snobs, living in a neighborhood she couldn’t afford.
We’re the worst kind.
I’m currently a volunteer Event Planner for a non-profit organization. (Good-bye Europe.) I visited Walmart to ask the Community Involvement Coordinator for a donation.
She gave it to me.
I don’t hate Walmart anymore.
I bought a turtleneck with matching beanie as an expression of gratitude.
AND a circular loom. I’m knitting beanies for the entire family.
My nephews and I knitted for hours.
Brody (age 11) whispered: “Charmaine, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Love is simple. It requires little…involvement...and respect.
Love,
Charmaine
I purchased an article of clothing from Walmart.
It’s not that I'm a snob. (Okay I was.) One of those has-no-money snobs, living in a neighborhood she couldn’t afford.
We’re the worst kind.
I’m currently a volunteer Event Planner for a non-profit organization. (Good-bye Europe.) I visited Walmart to ask the Community Involvement Coordinator for a donation.
She gave it to me.
I don’t hate Walmart anymore.
I bought a turtleneck with matching beanie as an expression of gratitude.
AND a circular loom. I’m knitting beanies for the entire family.
My nephews and I knitted for hours.
Brody (age 11) whispered: “Charmaine, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Love is simple. It requires little…involvement...and respect.
Love,
Charmaine
Thursday, October 7, 2010
My Blog into a Movie???
"Huh?"
...was my engaging response when a producer from Blue Orchid films called me about adapting my dating shennanigans into a film. "You're story is very current" she said.
Back in the day I was dating frequently. The middle aged men...well, it was like there was something WRONG with them. In a cute way.
I merely chronicled what happened...and it was funny. (You'll have to scroll down to my ancient history.)
The producer and I talked for a couple of hours.
She waxed on about Demi Moore for the lead (she's looking for work don't ya know) pitching it to different studios which she would require I attend, some innane subplot that sounded like HER on-line dating experience. (We discovered we'd both been contacted by the same ER Physician living in Malibu on match.com) I'd rejected him, she'd dated him with less then optimum results.
She'd lied about her age.
The story line would be a journalist internet dates to find material for a story...ends up falling in love and getting heart broken.
"That's not my story" I said.
"It's kind of a boring story" I said.
"My story is better" I said.
You're not supposed to say that when a producer calls you.
...was my engaging response when a producer from Blue Orchid films called me about adapting my dating shennanigans into a film. "You're story is very current" she said.
Back in the day I was dating frequently. The middle aged men...well, it was like there was something WRONG with them. In a cute way.
I merely chronicled what happened...and it was funny. (You'll have to scroll down to my ancient history.)
The producer and I talked for a couple of hours.
She waxed on about Demi Moore for the lead (she's looking for work don't ya know) pitching it to different studios which she would require I attend, some innane subplot that sounded like HER on-line dating experience. (We discovered we'd both been contacted by the same ER Physician living in Malibu on match.com) I'd rejected him, she'd dated him with less then optimum results.
She'd lied about her age.
The story line would be a journalist internet dates to find material for a story...ends up falling in love and getting heart broken.
"That's not my story" I said.
"It's kind of a boring story" I said.
"My story is better" I said.
You're not supposed to say that when a producer calls you.
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