Public Service Announcement: Penguins are NOT Awesome

We’ve reached a place in our blogger/blogee relationship where you get to learn a little something about me and it’s in the spirit of educating and saving lives. So, I begin a story that is 11 years old but I remember it as though it were yesterday.  I’m scarred and I’m changed, but I can stay silent no longer.

I started college as a Marine Biology major. I got my open water diving certification at age 14 in the cold and murky lake waters of the Midwest.  I began volunteer diving at my local zoo and working as an assistant aquarist to get experience in salt water, get some mileage out of my wetsuit, interact with the animals, do some water chemistry (everyone knows a girl well-versed in water chemistry is SEXY), and meet some new cool people. 

I learned a lot while I worked at the zoo.  For example, wear brown clothing if you want animals to approach you (they think you are zoo staff), water temperature, ammonia and pH are critical measures of water chemistry as are nitrates and nitrites.  Sharks swim in regular patterns when in captivity and fresh water fish from the amazon like to rub up against you like affectionate little cats.  Except fresh water amazon fish are huge, and slimy, and not cat-like in any other capacity so it’s actually pretty nasty.  Southern Stingrays can be found as far North as Jersey and as far South as Brazil, and male seahorses give birth.  My final lesson I learned the hard way: penguins are diabolical assholes and will try to kill you (and take your wallet) at the first opportunity. Penguins are blood-thirsty, angry, mutinous even, and I’m lucky to be alive after a thwarted murder conspiracy concocted in the summer of 2000.

Adult Women’s Guide to Dating Volume III: Explain My Ass

I dated this guy in college for a few weeks and then he stopped calling me.  Suddenly.  By no means were we in love but I really dug him.  He had fantastic green eyes and tousled hair and could kiss his FACE off!  I was bummed with the sudden change.  Then I see him on campus one day not long after with his arm draped over the shoulders of a girl I knew from my Spanish lab.  It was clear they were together.  He stopped awkwardly, disentangled himself from her, mouth falling open, and his hands widening in full blown explanation posture.   I smiled and said hello, politely cutting him off before he started, and walked away.  Then, I NEVER THOUGHT OF HIM AGAIN.  Well, until just now telling this story.  You get my gist.

An explanation was irrelevant.  He was dating her and NOT me.  I hadn’t done anything and we weren’t exclusive or serious.  An explanation wouldn’t change the outcome and certainly wouldn’t make me feel any better.  In fact, the only one who generally feels better during an explanation is the explainer.  And that’s super lame. 

This holds especially true with the liars and the cheaters.  You don’t explain your way out of sleeping with another woman.  You can’t.  And hearing the intimate details only makes the burn more severe for the person wronged while simultaneously lessening the burden the cheater has been carrying.  That’s the shittiest math equation ever.  Knowing you went four rounds on the sofa with a 22 year old waitress “but you don’t love her” isn’t going to make swallowing the cheated-on pill any easier.  And that visual is all I am going to see every time you leave the house. 

So, I know what you’re thinking right now.  “What the hell am I supposed to do if I don’t get an explanation?  Do I just stare at him in muted rage?”  The answer depends on the scenario.  There are two.

I give you Volume III in all it’s Glory:
9.  As a grown woman, I will not let myself be subject to explanations or excuses for bad behavior. If a man fails me he doesn’t have the right to try to excuse it away. I will either walk (as in away forever) or I will talk.

• Walk aka The Deal Breaker: If the grievance is unforgivable, the answer to that question is NO.  In a deal breaker scenario you walk the hell away but not before introducing his face to the Eff Chair™.  Make him carry that shit along for the duration.  Don’t let him unload his excuses on you and feel better.  You sure as hell don’t.
• Talk aka The Forgivable: If he forgot to take the trash out, we can leave the Eff Chair where it’s at and spare his face, but the answer is still “No.”  If what he did is still pretty significant I suggest a different tactic.  Instead of listening to explanations that don’t make things right tell him how it made you feel and what you expect in the future.  He agrees or he doesn’t.  It’s not on you to make it right. 

Example: “It hurt me that you lied about going to serve soup to the homeless and got drunk with your buddies at the driving range.  Let’s not make this a habit.” 

Enough said.

Adult Women’s Rules to Dating: Volume II

I am limiting this post to two things.  Because they are two big ones. This isn’t gender biased.  It goes both ways.  I’ve had no coffee yet today and so I’ll be brief and quite irritable about it.

7. As an adult man/woman, I will not tolerate cheating.  If he/she cheats.  They’re a cheater.  And you’re not special if they cheat WITH you.  (And if you contribute to the cheating knowingly, you pretty much suck too.)  Because if they cheat with you, they could just as easily cheat against you.  Cheating is telling.  It’s telling you to walk away.  Or run, fast.  Bitch slapping first is acceptable.  (Or throwing a drink in their face.  I’ve always wanted to do that.)

8.  As an adult man/woman I will not tolerate lying. If he/she lies.  They are a liar.  There is a difference between telling you you look cute in your footie jammies when clearly that’s dumb and where he spent his Friday night when he doesn’t get home until 3 AM when it was supposed to be 11, well… you know the distinction.  Don’t be fooled, or worse, don’t fool yourself and make it okay.  And if you ARE wearing footy jammies.  It’s dumb.  Take them off.

Bottom line: Liars and cheaters aren’t worth your time, energy, or attention.  

Adult Women’s Rules to Dating… Volume I

I like lists, and rules, and lists of rules and so this just seemed the way to go.  In this day and age, it's nearly impossible to try to date like a "normal" person.  I don't even know what that is anymore.  Online dating, distance dating, blended families, it gets really complicated really quick - and that's just the environment never mind finding the right guy!

So, in the quest of love, many, many people have sought out my advice.  Clearly these people don't know me well or they'd know better, but I've started a list.  It was born from the following questions.

Dear Carrie,
I’ve been talking to this guy and he calls me every few days and we’ve gotten drinks a couple times but it’s really hot and cold.  We have a lot of fun when we hang out but then days will go by and I don’t hear from him.  I think he’s busy with work and so I don’t want to pressure him but I like him a lot.  What do I do?
-J.K.

Consumer Watch: The Brands of Boyfriend

When it comes to boyfriends or potential boyfriends there are “types” and I have certainly had my fair share of them.  I have zero qualifications on giving advice on love or anything that resembles love and/or relationships.  My degree is in business and global economy and my qualifications are roughly 17 years of failed relationships.  So, keep reading if you dare. 

Now, I’m not talking about “types” that are relegated to physical categorization like "the muscle head” or the “the academic”.  Those designations are based more on physicality and interests, although for the sake of transparency, any man who has jewels on the ass pockets of his jeans is not welcome in my universe.  No, I’m talking about the brand that comes with how they stack up as a potential partner and how that evolves over time.

There are three buckets of types I subscribe to, mostly because I like simplicity and in my experience of dating for the last 17 years or so, I’ve learned to recognize the differences and how I’ve effectively been doggy paddling in the dating cesspool of life. 

I give you my three Boyfriend Brand Buckets: The Bargain, the Faux Beau, and the Real Deal.

The ironic twist!  Of course there is a ironic twist.  Any one man can be any of these brands, it depends on a variety of factors, their level of interest, their maturity level, their goals, their geography, their options, their emotional state, etc.  There are about a million more variables and factors, but you get my drift.  So, while some men suck inherently, I don’t think that’s why all relationships fail.  In my experience, most of us hang out in between Bargain and Faux for years until (or if) we find the Real Deal. 

Kissing Frogs

No one should ask me for love advice... but people do.  I don't know why, but I reply and oftentimes I actually sound like I know what I'm talking about.  While I have absolutely no experience nor do I have any degree of any kind in this arena, I'm not bad in a pinch or on a budget.  I should be studied actually.  My ability to help others while simultaneously doing dumb things in my own life is probably some kind of new science we haven't discovered.

So, here is a random sampling of what I've received and my blanket response to the question about the relationship status of, "Ehhhh, I dunno..."

Dear Carrie,
My on-again off-again ex is currently in on-again mode.  Things go great until they fall apart.  He has said he wants to move in but then we get in a fight and I don’t hear from him for days.  I don’t know how to make it work.  When it’s good, it’s really good.  When it’s bad, it’s really bad.  What the eff am I doing?
-J.M.

Dear Carrie,
I’m single, in my mid thirties with no kids.  I would LOVE to get married and have babies and the guys I’m dating just aren’t quite there, but I make excuses and stay in them too long knowing it will probably fall apart.  The guy I’m dating now is okay, but I just get weird vibes.  Something is off.  Do I stay?  What do I do to break this cycle?
-D.D.

Dear Carrie,
I’m pretty sure I’m with Mr. Wrong, but is there a Mr. Right?  Not sure the grass is greener…
-R.W.

When I was in college I dated this guy who was REALLY cute but not very bright.  And I made excuses for a few weeks that it was okay that he wasn’t very bright because the hot quotient filled the gaps.  But every time we’d go out and he’s go on moronically about how his literature teacher was so lame for making them read so much, or how he didn't understand why so many credit hours were required for graduation I’d die a little inside. He spoke bro, wore knit caps when it was hot out, and refused to tie his shoelaces.  I'm thinking now that he probably didn't know HOW... my point is, I was settling.  When all you have in common is smoothie flavors you don't tend to make it last.

As an adult in the dating world we’re met with a lot of the same bullshit and we know better but we don't do anything about it.  We’re lonely, we’re bored, we want babies, we’re tired of the game, we are too lazy to leave, or our biological clock is ticking so loudly we can’t hear anything else.  It's okay to admit that it isn't what you want anymore or maybe it wasn't even what you wanted in the first place.

Don’t be angry when your frogs hop offs your lily pad… be grateful.  Cut your losses and move forward.  You probably learned something, right?  Maybe my college boy wonder learned how to tie his shoes!  You can't waste your time wondering what could have been either, your frog might be another woman's prince charming - sometimes that is how the actual fairy tale ends.  He doesn't have to be an asshole to be wrong for you.  A relationship not working doesn't mean one of you has to be a villain.

The bottom line is that you’re going to be wrong.  A lot. That’s the deal. In fact, you’re wrong 100% of the time, until you’re right.  And that means you could wind up kissing a lot frogs first.

Eff It: Talk to Me

My daughter speaks English and pre-teen girl.  Pree teen girls consists of words, shortened versions of words (see: totes for totally), abbreviations (see: OMG), numbers (see: LUVU2), emoticons (see: :-P) and pictures of her making duckface. And duck face, I hate the duckface.  Stop with the duckface!  It's almost as bad as twerking! (I swear that is the only time I will reference anything related to Miley Cyrus.  Ever.)  So, I spend half my life trying to decipher what the hell she is trying to tell me in our phone conversations and while I use many of those standards and am a textaolic by admission, when my daughter texts me from upstairs in our home, "OMG mom, I'm starrrrrrving.  Bring me a snack?  Totes LUV U!"  I'm drawing some lines in the proverbial sand.

We're creating a generation of kids who can't manage interpersonal relationships.  There is a decided lack of communication skills.  Be it texting, IM’ing, Gchat, and email, the trending towards non-verbal communication is troubling to me.  There is a lack of familiarity, there is a lack of intimacy, and there is a high risk of mixed or crossed messages.  Consisting of shortened sentences, acronyms, and abbreviations sent a charming 160 characters at a time they are 1/10th of a real conversation.  I'm just as guilty!  #Icanholdentireconversationsentirelyinhashtag

But I'm increasingly becoming a mom that is over the texting age as the primary method of communication in relationships of any kind - especially with my kids.  I like to talk to people in person and on the phone.  I’m the girl that picks up the phone instead of sending another email when I need something at work.  I’m the girl who calls people I care about and like spending time with so that I can hear them TELL me how they are doing.  They aren't long calls, mind you, and I don’t like talking on the phone for hours, I’m a busy girl, but there is something missing in how communication has DE-volved.  Texting, while convenient can also be so incredibly impersonal and so incredibly LAZY.  I've been guilty as charged myself, but we're facing a brand new day in my house.

Tween House Texting Rules:
1. If what you want to say is more than seven words, come talk to me or call me.  Don't text me.
2. If we are in the same building (see: our house) come talk to me.  Don't text me.
3. If what you have to say is important, come talk to me or call me.  Don't text me.
4. If we're talking, you're not texting anyone else.  Be present in our conversation.  Texting can wait.
5. English may not be the language of love, but it's a language.  Honor it.  Use punctuation, capitalization, and abbreviations are okay so long as I can decipher what you are saying easily.
6. No texting after bedtime.
7. If you make duckface, I'm breaking your phone.

Eff Returns

Eff it.  I'm coming back.  Stay tuned.

Really?

This JUST arrived in my inbox. 

Mind you, I don’t have the time to even begin to go into all the things my brain wants to say…

Confessions of a Bacon Lover

My Facebook wall is a veritable museum of bacon goodness.  A wonderland, really.  Friends regularly post bacon products, pictures, and recipes to my wall, which delights me to no end.  

A friend recently sent me a Bacon Swag bag full of bacon candy, popcorn, thick cut maple fusion bacon strips, and my new favorite t-shirt!  Style points go to a guy who recently gave me 5lbs of bacon on our first date. 

I was asked today, and not for the first time, “What is the deal with you and bacon?  Do you really love it that much?” 

The short answer is: YES, I love bacon.

Eff Valentine’s Day: My Rant for YOU

I know what you’re thinking… here comes a Valentine’s day fuckfest of a rant from an angry, bitter, and perpetually single white woman.  And I won’t pretend I didn’t start and delete a post like that about a dozen times, but that’s really not my message.  So, I’ll rant, and I’ll rail a bit, but it’s not against anyone, especially not mankind.  My rant is actually for you.  So suck it, Valentine’s Day.  It’s not about you anymore. 

Red Flags Revealed

So Eff.  It’s almost Valentine’s Day and have absolutely no plans that involve any kind of romantic anything.  It's true.  Nothing like running your single flag up the flagpole for everyone to see.  And speaking of flags… I have a new friend/knowledge dropper I’d like you to meet. 

You’ve already been introduced to my friend Tristan and his timely insights into men’s emotionally retarded tendencies was a good one… but I also have another source of wisdom on my dream team of dating advisors.  I am pleased (and thankful) to introduce you to one of my new friends and 1/2 the brain power of the site 100 Red Flags, Ryan Luedecke.  His site is dedicated to listing 100 red flags as to why women are single.  Their knowledge is vast, their insights are compelling, and their use of the eff bomb is always well-placed.  These guys are good, and thankfully I follow instructions well.  (I am also guilty of far too many of their red flags so I have my work cut out for me… I’ll let you guess which ones.  Hint: I did NOT go to Notre Dame.) 

For their first ruminations on love (or lack there of) I told them to take it easy on me and lay down some first date red flags… Ryan delivered in spades. 

Tristan Speaks: The Eff Calvary Has Arrived…FINALLY

When I was nine I made this boy I liked cookies because I thought he was cute.  I made them from scratch and by myself watching them rise slowly in the oven, making sure they were the perfect shade of brown.  I wrapped them carefully in a paper bag I decorated with little pink and red hearts I cut out of construction paper and glued them meticulously into patterns on the side of the bag.  I was so nervous walking up to him to give him the bag I almost peed my Rainbow Bright underwear. 

When I presented them to him with, “They’re chocolate chip macadamia nut, you’re favorite.”  He unceremoniously took the bag, ripped it open, stuffed two in his mouth, and walked away.  I was devastated.  He was oblivious.  And so that same pattern would play out over my adult dating life from the petty: unreturned phone calls to the extreme: sleeping with other women without my knowledge or permission.  It’s been a vast spectrum of dumb ever since. 

Eff Conventionalism: A to B is Lame

A friend sent me this picture last night.  When I read the bottom part the first time, I totally heard Morgan Freeman's voice saying it like, "What. (pause) The Hell.  (pause) Is Happening”.  (Like, without a question mark at the end.  A period.  And calm, because he’s Morgan Freeman and it just sounds so bad ass how he says it.)

Then I thought of OTHER celebrity voices saying the same line.  Alec Baldwin’s silky, snobby voice saying it all condescending, “What the HELLLL is happening”?  then adjusting his cuff links with elegant annoyance. 

Vincent Price’s version was pretty awesome in my head too.  More sinister and with his evil laugh at the end.  Liam Neeson’s accent made it kinda cool, but he was more angry about it when he said it, like how he was in the movie Taken, and his voice rose with each word like, “WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING!”  And I pictured him on his knees and looking at they sky shaking his fists at God.

Peter Griffin from Family Guy was pretty rad too.  I did all the characters of Family Guy actually.  My daughter was sitting next to me when I did that.  She kept asking me, “What are you laughing at”?  When I would giggle to myself. 

Michael Jackson said it all scared and hurried like, “whatthehellishappening” and then did a spin and grabbed his crotch.  There was the guy from the All State Commercials, whose name I don’t know… (at this point I then tried to name all the shows/movies he’s been in and yet I’ve never known his actual name.)

So, these incoherent ramblings have nothing to do with the actual picture’s content which I think was her point in sending it, but I know she’ll appreciate that I spent 30 minutes doing bad celebrity impersonations of the same line in my head for entertainment purposes.  That could be why I’m not in the A -----> B category. 

In unrelated news, I’m easily distracted. 

Happy Friday.  (Said in the voice of Morgan Freeman.)

How Being a Girl Makes Understanding Dudes a Challenge: A Cry For Help Answered

While my life itself hasn’t exactly been a “how to” tutorial on awesome decisions in the love department, I’m actually a pretty smart woman with a high dose of common sense.  I could go on here announcing my credibility as a “not crazy” woman but I will just leave it at this: I’m not an idiot.

There isn’t any ONE thing I feel like I need to know.  No lifelong challenge or sudden onset issue that has me stumped.  It’s sort of all of it… I mean, it’s been argued that men are simple creatures, and while I agree, I’ve always wanted an inside advantage into the male mind.  All its charms and simplicities fascinate me and admittedly, I am a strategic thinker and any advantage is one I’d like to know about.  I have a lot of male friends and training partners and they have all been helpful mentors in my  less than graceful navigations of the dating world. 

I’ve blogged about My Boys in my other blog last July just before I turned 30.  (You know the serious one where I don’t use the eff bomb.)  I know some pretty rad guys who aren’t in my dating pool who have always been quick with feedback and insight for me. 

Eff Sleep: Pipe Dreams and Other Dream-like Things I’m Too Tired to Understand

The other night, I was sleeping soundly and I woke up suddenly to a text message and realized I was dreaming of doing Kettle bell swings with a giant clock ticking off the minutes.  I’m a dreamer, not in the John Lennon sort of way, but in the whilst sleeping some crazy shit happens behind my eyelids. I also walk in my sleep, talk, and sometimes even do lunges. Okay, that happened once, but it freaked me out a little bit anyways.

I also regularly wake up to the imagined “bing” of a new incoming message or meeting reminder on Outlook (I have four email accounts) or formulate emails responses during my dreams that are sheer genius.  I’m always running late in la la land  (but that’s sorta true in real life as well.)  I am also regularly chased, or chasing, being hunted, and for some reason alligators are a common character in my dreams.  Sometimes they smoke cigarettes.  I have no idea what that part means.

Eff and Other Words does E-Cards: Suck it Hallmark

Last year on Valentine’s Day I was single and I was not the happy recipient of a boyfriend love fest card/flowers/chocolates like a lot of the women I know.  In fact, I don’t even remember much of it – I’m fairly certain I blocked it out or drank my way through it all.

This year will be different… not because I have a date.  I don’t.  BUT, I have some fantastical ways to tell the significant and insignificant others in your life how you feel.   Courtesy of, and EFF approved, I’m introducing a FREE line of e-cards to be shared en masse.

There are cards being added each day and I assure you there will be one for you and the one you love/don’t love/dislike a great deal/just want to make out with in the mix somewhere.

So check out the page HERE and make it an Effable Valentine’s Day! 

I know I will. 

The Break-up: On Skype… Because of Twitter

Ah, remember the days when dating meant waiting anxiously by the phone waiting for it to ring? The wondering if he would call the next day or three days later when you’d been pacing furiously wondering if he really liked how your hair looked in the moon light.  Now, with a fully charged smart phones the wait is over.  It’s immediate feedback, immediate interaction, immediate gratification… but why does it feel so personally impersonal? 

Last year I was dating someone who lived in another state.  We’d been able to get together a few times and we always had a great time.  Long distance relationships are tricky and he admittedly didn’t like talking on the phone.  With the plethora of digital platforms, we began using Skype, Facebook, Twitter, and text to stay in communication.  At first, it was fun seeing what he was up to and with mutual friends we were able to interact and text all the time when we were apart. 

Eff SOPA and PIPA

I’m a blogger. A creator of new content and a voice in a sea of millions.  My shit is hard enough to find as it is, but the proposed SOPA legislation would make that even more real and even more lame. 

I don’t know HOW to black out my blog because I can barely use my iPod, but if I could I would except that it would be like any other day with my mom and four friends reading my drivel. 

Internet piracy is bad.  I get that.  In fact, I think something needs to be done.  But if you censor the internet, the pirates still win and the joy of “Eff” will be lost to the world.   I will be DAMNED if I will live in a world where Twitter, Facebook, or Pinterest are no longer.  Pinterest alone is hours of daily entertainment for me. 

Don’t let the government stifle the independent artists ability to speak out and speak up and for God’s sake… to drop the Eff bomb.  That’s right.  The Eff bomb.  It will become censorship-alooza.   I say FUCK THAT.  What do you say?

 

Who’s striking and why?  Find out HERE. 

Want to do something about it? Go HERE.

Eff Parenting: The Household Staff

Managing a household with growing children can be a challenge.  My girls are expected to help out around the house and I refuse to do things for them that they can do for themselves.  They don’t always appreciate the expectation. 

So, when my children ask me to do things for them that they can clearly do for themselves, I've taken to telling them, "I'll notify the household staff".  I then pretend to call someone on an ear piece, conduct a sometimes lengthy imaginary conversation, and then relay to my children with feigned disappointment that I've been told, coincidentally, we don't actually HAVE household staff.

My younger one, Cate loves this game.  Full of hope and naiveté that such a staff is on standby somewhere she waits patiently and listens. My older one, Taylor immediately rolls her eyes and walks away. I'll sometimes write it down for her and then stop by her room with it, and tell her someone has left her an urgent message. She dislikes that a great deal.  I use lots of smiley faces and stars in the note.

I’m making my children more self-reliant… one sarcastic conversation at a time.