2008. Good Riddance!

I haven't showered in days. My hair is dirty. I have acne on both cheeks. The place is a mess. I haven't cleaned the dishes. I look like a monster. I might even be aromatic. What's that smell?
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Last night I made Turkey Stock. In the middle of this process I fell asleep on the couch. It cooked for 8 hours. (woops) It was on a slow simmer. When I awoke the windows were coated with steam. There can be no mistake, I smell like turkey.

I was feeling a bit down, laying on the couch with a blanket pulled over my head (it smelled like turkey). And what to my wondering eyes should appear?
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Twas the presence of Evil, hell yes, he was here.

I waited, paralyzed. Knock Knock. I ignored it. Then he just walked in. God DAMN-it!!!!
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I stared at the wall not hearing a word he was saying descending into a palpable depression realizing that after 7 years of celibacy, I managed to contract a sexually transmitted disease. The kind that won't go away. It's called Evil Surfer Dude.
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Springing to life, for a second, realizing this might be a potential blog moment, I snapped his picture, then asked him to leave. (I can't even LOOK at the picture)
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Later, I managed to drag myself to the most magical place on earth, Albertsons in Corona Del Mar, for vegetables to finish my soup. I looked like shit. From the corner of my eye I thought I saw my favorite checker, Big John, cutting his eye at me. I walked passed hoping I'd been mistaken... "Hi Char! Are you doing anything for New Years Eve?" He inquired. "Nope." I said. "Ok. I'll be over at 10:00 pm" he replied.

The people in his line laughed. I smiled thinking, I could do worse. With a little dental work and a new hip, he might be alright.

Happy New Year. (Sobs into Chardonnay)

The Younger Man.

Huh? Why is this guy interested in ME? He's 37. Departing from my rule to strictly date men who are hideously ugly (so they'll be nice to me) I gave him my number.

I'm no "Cougar". But um, before cougars were invented, I dated a younger guy.
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When I broke up with him he began throwing pebbles at my window, pounding on my front door weeping. It was all very dramatic. At the time I'd read (ok skimmed) the Birth Order book which suggested the eldest female sibling of a family was the perfect match for the youngest male sibling in another. Total crap.
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Here's the thing. Mitch did my laundry. He would come over, pick it up, wash and fold it, then return it to me.
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Evil also did my laundry. He wasn't trying to be helpful or provide evidence of his adoration. He was merely so anal retentive he couldn't abide watching me put clothes in the washer without turning the shirts right side out or failing to fluff each, individually, before placing it in the dryer. Because he was so fastidious, when I did laundry in his presence I became maniacal. I would grab it, throw it around, pick articles that had fallen to the ground and slam them into the washer. It was a performance that produced results. a
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Evil would fold each piece of clothing meticulously, as I watched...mouth agape. This generally resulted in me grabbing my thong underwear out of his hand screaming, "You don't need to fold UNDERWEAR, you freak"!
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I've been single for 5 days. Already I'm reminiscing about Evil. Have I become one of THOSE women? Sweet Jesus. The next thing you know I'll be surrounded by cats.
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I'll post his Profile in my comments section because it bored me. I don't want to bore you too.

"Pick My Next Date" RESULTS

You came. You voted. The hunky surfer wins! (booty dance)

Bachelor #1. Eleven (11) votes
Bachelor #2. Three (3) votes
Bachelor #3. Four (4) votes
Bachelor #4. (Smelly Shelly's Dad) One (1) vote
Bachelor #5. (Evil Surfer Dude) One (1) vote

For those of you that refused vote, I'm not naming names, Mike, Hedgie, Pacing in the Panic Room, LL, Comedy Goddess, Mama Dawy. P.O.M and Tammy, it's a numbers game.

On the first date, the minute your eyes meet, you know. (When I first met Evil's gaze I thought; "JESUS this bastard is U.G.L.Y." Then he grew on me.

We ate lunch then strolled on the beach. To access the beach we had to descend a flight of stairs. I was wearing (look-at-me-I'm-a-hooker) platform shoes. I also had a torn meniscus. Because of the pain, each time my heel hit the stair I exclaimed, "Mother F*cker". (I said it approximately 30 times.) I could have said, God D*mn Mother F*cker, but I'm a lady.

It turned out that Evil had a penchant for profanity too. (Whew) Hey, I can control it. I mean, I use it...er, occasionally.

My Irish mother swore like a sailor. Since the people in my family were educated (physicians, attorneys, intellectuals, etc. ) I thought evidence of an advanced degree meant pronouncing the "F" word correctly. Irish people have mastered it. The effect is that it's delivery is as offensive as possible. I'm no Noam Chomsky but I think it's due to vestigial remains of the guttural articulations (sounds-like-grandma-is-extracting-phlegm) sounds commonly heard in Gaelic. I will never get it right. (Sigh)

On the beach we accidentally invaded a wedding video. We walked within inches of the video camera, peering directly into it before realizing what we had done. The bride said, "I do" and then Charmaine's enormous head is in the frame. Evil grabbed my hand and we fled, giggling.

Further down the beach we climbed up an abandonded life guard stand. To this day, at age 47, I cannot resist the temptation of an abandoned life guard stand. Especially ones with signs reading, "Keep Away" or "Do Not Enter".

Walking back up the stairs Evil pinched my bottom, "You're right. You don't have a butt." he said. Then he pinched it for the next 6 months until Christmas day when, gazing at him, I had the exact same thought I did when I first looked at him.

Here is my shameless add on plentyoffish.com.

I am a playful, zany, intelligent hard working woman. I'm a little artistic and an independent thinker. (It's difficult to discern if I'm to the left of Ralph Nader or to the right of Attila the Hun) - but only when I'm being tricky.

I like physical and mental challenges, my own space and invading other people’s space. Some of my skills include walking on water, reading minds and levitating small to medium sized objects, but I don’t like to brag about this.

If YOU were on a dating website (even if you're married) what would YOUR profile say? There is a prize involved. The winner is going to get something GREAT. My first blog award. Possibly one of Evil's Christmas presents. I can't decide.

Pick My Next Date

Ladies and Gentleman, a new (Sundays only) feature. (Cue applause)
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I offer you the men currently asking for dates.

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YOU decide. (After Evil Surfer Dude, clearly I can't be trusted.) All you have to do is vote for your favorite. The majority rules.

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When you read my "date review" you will have the unmitigated pleasure of knowing that whatever happened to me was entirely YOU'RE fault. If it works out, you're invited to the wedding. This could get us on Oprah, people.

Bachelor #1. (Professional Surfer)

Profile:

Thought I would give this a try !! I really don't need to find the "perfect" soulmate, "although that would be ideal", just someone that's fun, light hearted and easy going. Someone who's independent but not overly driven to get "there", it's the journey not the destination:). I try to live each day as if it's my last, incorporate the Golden Rule and if I screw it up, I wake up and try again. I know this is asking alot, but if you can tolerate living a fun, exciting, and carefree lifestyle, you might be interested..:). I'm really easy going, soft spoken, friends tell me "incredibly patient",I'm basically just a pretty loving guy - However, "I will protect you if need be...of course!!!":-). If your interested, send me an email and I'll do my best to reply. I just wanted to add this, if you are really looking for that "guy" I just might be the one, I really want to give myself to someone and care about what they think and what their hopes and dreams are and share mine with them. Relationships can work, it's not hopeless!!

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Bachelor #2. (Insurance Fraud Investigator)

Profile:
I’m a straight forward and honest man with very strong family values. I'm an adventurous person who enjoys traveling abroad (when I can afford it) and being on the go. I work out at the gym 3-4 days a week, as keeping in shape is important to me. Looking to meet someone to have fun and laughs with... make friends... and then see where things go from there. Physical attraction is important no matter how shallow it may appear at first. I'd like to meet somebody with ‘tons of spirit’ and loves life!!. Doesn't matter if you work out at the gym or not, however pride in how you look, how you carry yourself, having integrity, a sense of spirituality, passion and humility are all a major plus in my eyes. There is so much more to me that I can not cover here. If you are interested, please drop me a line. PS, If you need a reference or check my background, please let me know and I will get you in contact with my mother as she was the one that put me up to this. (LOL) :)

Bachelor #3. (Film Production)

Profile:
I had to sign up to meet you, and now here is this box, mocking me with questions. Ok, last count I had the correct number of appendages. I am slightly more interesting than I appear in your rear view mirror. I don't believe everything I think.I possess a keen appreciation for beauty in all forms, connecting me to the universe. I care deeply about my son, the union of man and woman, self-expression with pen (ok, computer), my sport, and more (yes, more).In search of a loving, lasting relationship for a warm and blessed journey.

Herb Roasted Turkey Breast

Another "Middle Aged Dating" break-up. You know what that means…Time to cook!

I sent every last scrap of the 13 lb. Christmas Turkey to the turkey I was dating. I was so angry at the time (I didn’t tell you the half of it) I gave him every last morsel.

Anger makes me “giving”.

I woke up this morning dying for a Turkey sandwich, All I had was a bare turkey carcass. I skipped to the market and bought a Turkey Breast Roast.

After slaving for days on the original turkey I decided, forget that! I’m gonna wing it.

Herb Roasted Turkey Breast
2 ½ lb. Turkey Breast Roast (skin on)
Onions
Carrots
Celery
Thyme and Sage
Olive Oil
Butter
Chicken Stock
White Wine

That's it. Chop the vegetables, throw them into a roasting pan and place the roast on top because you can’t find your roasting rack. Drizzle with olive oil, salt, pepper and TONS of Thyme. (Seriously, you can’t over do it.)

Look. I have too much Thyme on my hands.

Pour in some chicken stock and a little white wine. Rub a bit of softened butter on the roast with copious amounts of salt, pepper and Thyme.

Don’t strain yourself.

(I don’t know why I’m like this.)

Drink some wine. Rub roast with softened butter. Roast at 350 for 45 minutes. Baste. Another 45 minutes and…

Be still my beating heart.

The house smells like heaven, turkey sandwiches for days, "Evil" is gone and there is peace on Earth.

PS: I won another photo caption award. I tend to win when there is ZERO competition. This one was held by "Crotchety Old Man".

Gift Mountain...Revealed.

Remember Gift Mountain? The packages were from (Evil Surfer Dude) the man I was dating. They sat for days causing me to speculate about the contents: Perfume, fluffy robe, a new pair of Ugs?

Evil Surfer Dude handed me the first package....

#1.

Wrinkle Cream with glycolic acid? You shouldn't have. Really, you SHOULDN'T have. (If I'd known this was coming I would have countered with a package of "Extra Small" Condoms.

#2.

Tupperware? The cheap fake Tupperware? How did you know? It's what I've always wanted.
#3.

Aluminum pots. Even if hit Evil over the head with one it wouldn't hurt. I have Circulon. It's cast iron. I could put him in a coma with a tap to the forehead. Maybe the perfume is coming next?

#4.

How romantic. I gazed down at my knife set, then at Evil's jugular.

#4.

The finale. All I could say was, "Evil, did you ever consider ASKING me what I wanted?"

Other gifts included a Salt and Pepper shaker and a hideous $8.99 black plastic wall clock.

Charmaine: What made you choose a black plastic clock?

Evil: It's matches your keyboard.

Charmaine: My keyboard isn't black.

Evil: The bench is.

Charmaine: You bought a clock to match the bench below my Keyboard?

Evil: Yes.

After the wrinkle cream he could have offered me a black diamond and I would have thrown it at him. I packed up his left overs and pretended to fall asleep on the couch. He left. The minute he was out the door I miraculously sprang to life to life and called a friend.

Then I emailed Evil and broke up with him. "I'm not your mother" I said. "Where did you get this stuff anyway?"

"K-mart" he responded.

The Booty Call Update AT LAST!

There was a knock at the door. It was Evil. I answered in a crimson negligee wearing my chestnut hair extensions, which make me look 10 years younger, at least. The sound of smooth jazz filled the air. The lights were dimmed. Votive candles sparkled on every table. The delicious aroma of herb crusted prime rib that drifted in from the kitchen suggested that, oh yea, we were staying in tonight.

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As soon as I opened the door he swept me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. I had no idea a Booty Call could change my life. It was fantastic!!!
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(Throws crack pipe accross room) Let's try again, shall we?

There was a knock at the door. Evil walked in and made a U-turn. “I need to get something from my car” he said. When he returned he had a gift bag containing Christmas presents.

How sweet...

Then this.

And this...

He continued until: Does this mean I have to get HIM something? Another view. (faints)

Evil is the cheapest man I've ever met so why do I have a gift mountain? I had mentioned that I needed a poinsettia and he brought that too. Wha? He's LISTENING to me? This is not Evil, this is an alien.

“Why did you do this and where is your mother ship?” I demanded.

Then he took me to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. Compared to where he USUALLY takes me, it was the Ritz.

We returned to my house, watched a movie and then he left.

Tsk….tsk…you vulgar people (you know who you are and that I love you for it). But saying a thing and doing it are two separate acts.

Below is the gift I got him. It's a shirt. (I mean, I HAD to.)

Not only can I rap, but I can wrap...

And this. It's a $10.00 gift certificate. Whose cheap now? (Hey, quit looking at my hand. I'm NOT a hand model.)