How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

I died a little bit today.The worst possible scenario happened to me. I was devastated and this is why,

This Guy

Dick Van Dyke, you know the guy who was Bert, Mary Poppins’ secret boyfriend, remarried February 29th 2012. Obviously he was afraid to tell because I only found out TODAY! I cried a 1000 tears today because he married this gal

Dick, my ex-boyfriend, married Arlene Silver-Van Dyke. Devastated isn’t close to what I am feeling. It’s deeper. Betrayed maybe?

Here’s the thing…If I had KNOWN Dyke was looking for a gal 46 years younger than him, I would have thrown my hat into the ring. Sure he is as old as my grandpa and his cronies but its BERT! I can put up with a lot for a chance to marry Bert. Maybe this should have been a bachelor show. I would have auditioned. I can sing and dance. I know all the same songs Dick knows. I could run lines with him. I can dress in designer things and work the carpet events. I am mad because he never even had the courtesy to let me take him for a date.

I would have brought him to a table for two, out in the country with adorable waiters and strawberry ice. Maybe strolled along a lovely path that led to a carousel and ask the  driver to step in time and join a fox hunt. Then perhaps race in the derby. It would have been lovely to hear him say to his girl (me) supercagafragalisticexpialadoicous because now his girl’s his wife! IT SHOULD BE ME!

English: Screenshot of Dick Van Dyke from the ...
Image via Wikipedia

Who knew it was okay to marry your grandpa’s friend? Sure he’s old, but he can’t live forever. Chances are his wife will out live him and be rich in the process. But that is not the part I am interested in. I love a man who is a great storyteller. I am not talking about traffic stories or weather stories (long story don’t ask). I am talking about Mary Poppins/Julie Andrews stories, or Chitty Chitty Bang Bang stories or Bye Bye Birdie Stories. Who doesn’t want to hear about Debbie Reynolds?

I feel ripped off. I am an overachiever and would have like to be ASKED to at least compete for the position. SO NOT FAIR!

This now means I need to move down the list. Let’s face facts, George will soon tire of Stacy Keibler. she can’t last forever. I will be in Italy next summer. I will be ready.

That Goes Well With Rice and other M-isms

Geek Squad logo
Image via Wikipedia

Genetic Offspring has a group of friends who refer to themselves as “the Geek Squad”. The say things like “be nice to me, I will be your boss one day.” They are funny x10. They call themselves Wilson (he’s mine), M, Burn A Cabbage, and Yak. There are many others I call Skippy and Sparky – I refer to all of them as Skippy and Sparky – those fellas are on the fringe of the core group of friends.

M is my favorite. He makes me howl with laughter. He is smart – brilliant actually, dedicated to his family, artistic, and creative x10. His motto is “it goes well with Rice”. M claims everything goes well with rice. Being the token Asian guy in the group (his words not mine) he feels it’s his duty to impress upon the importance of rice. One day he helped bring in my groceries and he offered to carry the rice, so I gave him my tiny 3 cup bag. He ranted and raved and was shocked … “That is it? WE have enough rice in our basement to feed all of Africa.” I often grill him about our cultural differences and what it was like to move here from the Philippines at such a young age. Bottom line is, Wilson did good picking his friends.

M came over last night because his ride abandoned him. He had cousins that live by us, but he chose to seek out Wilson’s family for help. First of all, that made me feel great. Secondly, I love it when he visits. He is very charming and charismatic. He needed a ride home because dodge people hang out in the creek at night and didn’t want to walk that far alone. So Wilson and M piled into my car for the 5 minute drive.

He began chatting about how hard it is to find a suitable pompom.

Huh? What for?

For a hat he MADE for his GIRLFRIEND – well, she isn’t his girlfriend yet, there has been no official asking, but they talk every night. I pumped him for all the important info, like…

1) Where is she from?

2)What school did she attend?

3)Is she smart?

1)She is from South Africa but Chinese.

2)She was home schooled and is in school for the first time.

3)Ummm she is Chinese.

Then they fellas talked about how cute she is. So I said, tiny with long straight black hair? M asked if I knew her… HAHA Just your “type” M.

I then changed the subject and said, make a pompom.. His response was YOU CAN MAKE A POM POM? I explain how and invited him over if he needed help.

Wilson doesn’t want me to help. He doesn’t want M to have an official girlfriend. He made a bet with the Geek Squad that all of them would have a girlfriend before M. The bet is a slap – that’s right a slap bet. My son is book smart not street smart….oh the shame.

Wilson, Why would you think M wouldn’t have a girlfriend before you guys? Answer: because he gets carried away and doesn’t play it cool. Yak isn’t there anymore to hold him back and advisehim because they are in different schools.

No offense to Yak – but if you guys WANT girlfriends, listen to M. He has it all figured out. He is charming, goofy, funny, brilliant, kind, thoughtful AND attentive. He will be the richest one of the group because he doesn’t hold back. He is a risk taker. Wilson looked at me and thought….hmmm..

I guess we shall see who is right, me or Yak. Meanwhile, I will wait with ice for the results of the slap bet.

My Worst Valentines Date Ever

Anthropomorphic Valentine, circa 1950-1960
Image via Wikipedia

Lately I have been reading blogs about The Worst Valentines Day EVER. Some have been so sad they made me laugh. That’s right, I have a dark sense of humor. This made me think about MY worst Valentines Day EVER.  It wasn’t today, Honey had dinner catered, and gave me a lovely bouquet of flowers! I am very lucky indeed! No, the worst day was in my single years, many many moons ago.

I was at a dance and my friend introduced me to the very tall, strapping giant of a man from Newfoundland-let’s call him Newfie. I prefer tall men because I am rather tall myself. With heels, I need my fella to be at least 6 feet tall so I don’t tower over him. Newfie happened to be close to 6’5″. This meant I could wear my coveted 80’s pink pointy stilettos! I loved those shoes. As luck would have it, after several nights of phone calls to “get to know me”, Newfie invited me out for dinner. He lived in the Old Strathcona area and suggested we head over to Chianti’s for Valentines Day Dinner. I thought “how perfectly lovely!”

He came to Alberta looking for work. Being an out of work Cod Fisherman, he figured he would see if he could find work in Alberta. I am not sure if he noticed, but Alberta is a Land Locked Province, The Rockie Mountains to the West and Saskatchewan to the East. Not a Ocean around, certainly no change of catching Cod. This did not deter him, he found another Newfie to take him in and give in shelter. Apparently they look after each other like that. Admirable qualities of course! I was living out of town at the time and suggested I come to his place and we could go to the restaurant from there. This was a most agreeable arrangement.

I arrived promptly at 7:00 PM. This was the agreed upon time. I looked fabulous. Pink shoes! Damn they were awesome! My hair looked huge ( it was the 80’s) so it also looked fabulous! In those days I could turn some serious Flock of Seagull looking heads! I rang the doorbell, and Newfie opened the door in his boxer shorts and undershirt. Seriously? He was brushing crumbs off his belly as he leaned in to kiss me, I quickly turned my head and received it on my cheek. Had I been the girl I am today, I would have walked back to my car and drove away into the sunset. Sadly, I was stupid in those days and asked why he wasn’t ready yet. He replied with, “Oh, we are still going out?” Hmmm, hindsight tells me that was his “sexy” look and he was looking for some action. I said, “YOU invited me out for Dinner! Of course we are going!” I waited at the front door, afraid to venture any further due to the funky smell coming from the front room.  Again… Today’s me is thinking “You were SO STUPID!”

15 minutes later, out he came wearing jeans, a plaid shirt with a plaid flannel coat and work boots. Well at least he wasn’t wearing wellies. I then asked where was his car, in the front or back? He laughed at me, “I don’t have a car! Do you know how much those cost? We can take yours or we can walk.” I knew Chianti’s wasn’t that far, maybe 5 blocks. There was NO WAY I was driving on our first date, I had principles! Again… Today’s me is thinking “Stupid Stupid Stupid!”

We set out walking to the restaurant, 5 blocks away. Me in my 6″ Pink Shoes with Extra Pointy 80’s style toes. By block #3 I could feel blood pooling in my shoes, by block #4, I was limping. Did he notice? No, are you kidding? The guy mix and matched plaid for crying out loud.  We get to the restaurant, ON VALENTINES DAY, and the Maitr d asked for his name, he gave it. Maitr d said “I don’t see your name on the list”  I’m thinking “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Valentines Day and NO reservation?!” Newfie asked “why would it be on the list?” I’m thinking at this point he is not the brightest bulb in the box….yet I stayed. What does that say about me?!?!

I asked the Maitre D if my Greek friend was working, soon he came out and I asked him to give me a table. He looked at my date and whispered in my year, Charity Dinner? Ha Ha thanks Greek Friend, but he found us a table. Newfie ordered a HUGE amount of food. HUGE! of course he was a big guy but he ate like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a long time. The bill came and he looked it over and said, “wow, it sure is expensive here, thanks so much for taking me out to dinner.” ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?! This is where I drew the line. I said,” YOU invited me, that means YOU pay, or at the very least, you pay YOUR portion!” He explained that since I knew he was out of work, it was assumed that I was paying. This was one of those WTF moments. I handed over my card, paid and walked out, not waiting for Newfie who was in the men’s room stealing soap and towels.

He caught up with me two blocks later, due to my slow pace caused by bleeding toes, and told me he had called his mom earlier that day. He told her he found his true love. I ask, oh really, then why did you ask me out? He said, oh silly girl, I love you. WHAT?!?!?! We knew each other two weeks! He said he could hardly wait to hang out on his Chesterfield, eating what I cooked for him and drinking beer. He said I made him so happy. I froze. I was literally petrified. I could see myself like a cartoon character wearing curlers and an apron with a kids hanging all over my legs and a cigarette hanging out of my mouth. At that moment I want to run, but my feet we in no condition to move faster than a snails pace. The walk to my car was so excruciatingly slow and painful listening to his plans for our future, I was ready to hurl myself into the river. He talked about moving into my place at the end of the month so he wouldn’t have to pay rent anymore. That way I could take care of him. I actually snorted in disgust at that comment. I thank the heavens above that he never knew where I lived. I have no doubt he would have called a cab and moved in the next day.

When we reached my car, he made a move to get in. I said, Uhhh no, I have to work in the morning, someone needs to earn a living! He said you are so right sweetie. BLAH! I got in and drove away. Never to see him again. The next time he called, I said “you have the wrong number”. He either bought it, or knew it was me. I’m guessing he really thought he had the wrong number.

Now, can you top THAT worst Valentines Day ever? I didn’t think so. I win.

Happy Valentines Day!