This guy was as predictable as a carousel. Bright lights and painted horses, with music any girl would be privileged to hear all overcompensating for an inflated Pride and a feeble personality. Boasting and posting as a noble Steed, he was merely a barnyard pet. Straight from a dating site, he texted this juvenile narrative, which in this message, he cast me as the lucky female role. Although I could have made this up, my story would have been much more elaborate and convincing... Here are his words. I want to be sitting on your porch when you come in from work tonight. I'm sure you'll be tired and maybe even a little grumpy but I'd just give you a really long, tight, warm hug. I'd glide my fingers down the back of your arm and lace my fingers inbetween yours holding your hand and with my other hand I'll gently place it on your neck and just give you the most passionate kiss ever. I'd just wrap my hands around your hips and pull you really close to me I'd just look into your eyes and give you a cute nose kiss and then tell you to go grab a change of clothes. I'd sit on your porch until you came back out. And I'd just embrace you with another hug and whisper in your ear. I'd hold your hand and we'd walk to my car so I could drive you back to my place. we'd go into my room and I'd just collapse on that bed pulling you on top of me. I'd wrap my arms around you and just adore that gorgeous smile of yours. I'd begin to make out with you for a few minutes doing nothing more than resting my hands on your hips and gently feeling your ass. I'd stand back up and I'd tell you to get comfortable so I could give you a massage. I'd step out of the room to grab some lotion or something and come back in to find you in nothing but your bra and panties. (I'd loose my mind 😍) Although his imagery was quite colorful, I'm not the slight bit interested in his copy and paste, pick animals with white sprinkles carousel.He only supplies the animal crackers (in my soup), so you'll have to create your own happy ending for this one.....
https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/frosted-animal-cracker-carousel-cake-5238246.amp
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SQUISHDaddy long legs deceaseA couple things guys never seem to learn about me (or don't care to):
This guy again, wasn't my type. He was military-- apparently I haven't learned this lesson with the LAST FIVE. He was much older (yet, not the oldest I've talked to) and he was painfully sweet in his ways. He seemed to be from a generation where women jump when their prospective man says, "red mushroom!" O-kay, o-kay.... that's only in Mario, but hey! At least it's clear, I am no Peach. He was the guy that sprinkled me with compliments about my "luscious legs" and pleaded for me "to allow him" to take me out. Texting does it again.... This guy made minimal effort to get to know me and attempted to set a date either moments or hours before his convenient time. After his 2nd attempt, this was our encounter: I was retracting interest before this thread of messages stitched through this particular day, but it became offical at 4:15 am.Splat! Mr.. Daddy Long Legs lost more than a number....
Remember when I said I dumped the dating site and I still had a few leads I exchanged information with before deleting it? This 24-year-old was the last one left, and funny enough, he looks like this hottie pictured above. Thank you male Vanna. To start this date off, I was HELLA late for a not-so-important-date. Hardly time to say hello, goodbye- I was late, late late! How could I have been so disrespectful? I warned him that I NEVER get my hair did (felt oh-so glamorous) so I was unaware that coloring your natural hair took hours upon hours. Once my mermaid hair was vibrant and flip-worthy, I called him to inquire of his location and profusely apologize. He was surprisingly understanding and sent me a location to meet where we could walk on the beach. I'm not a girly girl that would normally complain "oh my hair!" but... I did JUST get it done. Not only would no one else get to see it in its shiny glory, but it wasn't even worth it! The conversation was prompt, and to the point; boy was on a mission. Yes, he was merely a boy. The way he asked to hold my hand under the full moon crafted an eerie air around us. I began mentally planning my escape route when I felt a sense of desperation in his tone and body language. Since I had no restraint to hold anything back at 9 o'clock with a stranger on a humid, no-breeze night on the beach, I made a comment that he seemed a little "girl deprived." "I am girl deprived," he confessed. "But... you must be boy deprived if you haven't had a boy friend since December." Mr. P Deprived had the audacity to What? Are you kitting me? You are desperate for any cat. I should have called him Mr. Thirsty, but it was beyond that. After this painful and haunting encounter, these were the messages exchanged: (get the popcorn) I obviously had no concern with proofreading that last message since it should have said "them" instead of "him first." As if this date wasn't enough of a joke, his last response is definitely mic-drop worthy: "It takes too much time. Too many girls are on those apps for self esteem boosts from random guys. I refuse to wade through it anymore. 😂" I'm sorry.... but you looking for pussy cats is acceptable? Hands down he was one of those guys that swipes right on EVERYONE to "increase his odds." If this isn't a wake-up call, I don't know what is.Get yourself an ice cream sandwich before your judgment melts like mine obviously did. What a sticky mess!Bras strung like Christmas lights beaming proudly weeks into the new year, country twang in the air, and the sound of beer bottles being poured and sloshed became our immediate future.. This was our introductory to the notorious Flora-Bama Bar. The blonde best friend and I were at it again as we explored our new watering hole. It had the atmosphere of a larger "Billy Bob's" with an Alabama attitude. I was designated driver and.... you guessed it, she was designated drunk. After getting her numerous Jack and Cokes, we made our way to the main stage where of course, we stumbled upon an attractive, well-dressed man. Would it really be blog-worthy if there wasn't a story to tell ? A strawberry blonde-haired man made a comment in our direction when someone stumbled by, baptizing the three of us in a sticky red liquid. The conversation ignited and the flirting and competition commenced. It was hard to read which of which one of us he was in to. Not just initially, but the entirety of the night. His parents were close by and the man later identified as his stepfather, made a winced kind of face while scanning my blonde best friend's cleavage and short shorts. Her and I both read the look like chapter 1 of a World Lit. class. The man in pursuit introduced both of us to his parents. He kept making jokes that well, "y'all have already met my parents..." like it was a unit kind of thing. Then, he made a comment that we were both gorgeous and naturally, I deflected it (just the compliment towards me. The blonde bestie is hella gorgeous). He went out of his way to reinforce his compliment. To which I retracted again, because that's just who I am. Not a compliment fisher... I have very little patience for fishing even though I've dated enough fisherman to feed the crowd of 500 where Jesus performed the miracle of 5 leaves and 2 fish. God knows I need a miracle-- but don't we all? He seemed genuine and offered to buy us drinks. When I informed him of my appointed position of responsibility for the night, he respected it, but his smile faded ever so slightly. During one of my blonde best friend's potty breaks, Mr. High Maintenance Insurance (good name right? Just wait for it...) gazed at the stage while a likely intoxicated blonde in a black dress did a seductive dance. Before being escorted off the stage by security, she slipped off her bra and hung it among the other hundreds on one of the ropes overhead. Turning to me, Mr. High Maintenance said, "now THAT girl is high-maintenance." Smiling, since I am textbook, ink-line, and sinker the opposite of that, I nodded. His blue eyes would have made my bra fall off if my best friend wouldn't have returned a moment later. [I will not lose all control when peering into blue eyes. I will not.... oh gosh!! *knees buckle*] As the night progressed with two country-fied girls, a cute 32-year-old, and his parents, the music became more and more appetizing to a dancers heart. As my hips continued to sway, my innate two-stepping skills (that were practically branded in me from my 16 years calling Texas my home) took precedence in the moment. Watching this closely, Mr. High Maintenance Insurance grabbed my hand with a flick as I spun into laughter and eventually his arms. We danced for 3 or 4 songs. And then, like a buttermilk pancake, he flipped me. My face definitely said it all. My mouth agape, I gasped for air. "Oh, was that okay?" He smirked. The blonde best friend joined us on the dance floor as we returned to standing position. He took this opportunity to request both of our phone numbers. As the band continued to play, she revealed to me that his mom ran into her in the bathroom and informed my bestie that she had the best boobs she had ever seen. What? While I was still processing the information, he tugged on her arm lightly and they made their way to the bar. Damn. This all happened so fast, and the guy goes to..... the girl with mom-approved boobs. Oh, and in case you haven't had the privilege of reading up on the blonde bestie, there is a link below. Some of you may even have encountered her, or girls like her. Don't get me wrong-- she is one of a kind, but she requires a lot of attention. A LOT. She admits it. But... definitely is classified by guys and herself as HIGH MAINTENANCE. Yet he told her he was into her, even though he told me that the girl that hopped on the stage and threw her bra up on the rope was high maintenance. Am I missing something? And I know insurance.... I SELL IT FOR A LIVINGI was at a loss for words and the affection or chance with this man, I consulted a couple of my guy friends about the situation and the jury is out: It was a form of manipulation-- insurance if you will in case things with the bestie didn't work. It was explained to me like this: Steph, that's like a guy telling an obvious intellect that "dumb girls are not his type" and then going for an airhead. If the airhead would've have gone for him, he already laid the groundwork for the intellect. Insurable GlazeFor the man full of hot water, he is simply a sugary glaze on a strawberry scone. Mix one part hot water with four parts powdered sugar. It drizzles well on low and high-maintenance scones of all kinds.
Since my life has not been flavorful enough, and I struck out with so many military guys in a row, 7 or so, as if I were counting... I plunged into a more devious dating pool. In the 370+ blog posts of Dates and Cakes history, I've certainly met my fair share of physically-driven men that, to put it bluntly, only care about one thing. My intelligence of course LOL ...not likely. So, I decided to change my mind-frame for a little and entertained the world of shallow pursuit. I was exhausted from hoping a guy would live up to his intentions, and was ready for something a little more black and white. You are who you say you are. You're just in it for sex? Awesome. At least it's in the open. Please don't make me a part of any more games;
Which may be worse.... because we know all too well I typically don't give out my heart- that's child's play. I downloaded a sugar daddy app. GASP! I've read other blogs and heard tales of girls that match with older men just wanting a companion. Someone to take to dinner, someone to talk to. I could talk to a wall. Actually I may or may not have had a pretty in-depth conversation about the Russian War with a wall once. Any who... I uploaded a few pictures and words about myself, like any other dating app and watched the colorful requests file in. I knew it wasn't for me like escargot, but you have to just try it once, right? It was time to embark on this different app, since none of my prior guy interactions have really gone off without a "hinge." The very first guy I began conversing with was older, experienced in years, divorced with a couple of kids, and of course (when trying to entice a girl like me) a world traveler. He was a blue-eyed middle-aged gentleman I'll refer to as Mr. Submarine. No. He was not into The Beatles.The very first guy actually older than he posted, but wasn't in the slightest bit creepy. He was genuinely impressed of the depth of our conversation. We dined at a prestigious place on the water, on the edge of downtown called Atlas. A title most suiting for a traveler such as myself. My palate for whiskey seemed to impress him as the conversation carried over quiet roar of the slinging of bottles and clattering of plates. It was if it were any ole date; we laughed, we flirted, and we drank. He had gauged a level of trust in our meeting in he revealed his true intentions..... can you guess by his name? Mr. Sub He was seeking a loyal sub, to enlighten their world. I kindly declined and tried with all my might to play it off, when internally I was sweating, struggling, and stressing beyond that of a student prepping for the lsats. I survived the remaining minutes of the date, hugged him goodbye, and retreated to the side of my blonde best friend. Nothing like Elle Woods, but like any true friend, found humor in my flavor of the week. How my Catholic-school-reared rear thought I could possibly dabble in this world is Greek to me! The dessert most suiting for my only sugar daddy date is: ypovrichio or “submarine sweets.”Ipovrichio – Submarine
Vanilla flavor: 480gr granulated sugar 250gr water 1Tbsp corn syrup 1Tbsp lemon juice vanilla flavoring Combine the sugar, syrup, and water in a medium saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon until the sugar dissolves, and cover the pan for 5 minutes to allow the sugar to wash down the sides. Uncover the pan, add lemon juice and vanilla to taste, and clip a candy thermometer to the inside of the pan (being certain that the tip of the thermometer doesn’t touch the bottom of the pan ); cook the mixture to 115 C degrees. Total cooking time for the batch falls between 20 and 25 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and pour the contents into a heat proof bowl. Let fondant cool down at room temperature to 40C. Then place the fondant mixture in a bowl and work with a wooden spatula until it becomes opaque, or place the fondant mixture in your mixer bowl and, with the hook attachment, let it mix until opaque. You can store it in a glass or plastic storage container at room temperature for six to eight months. Serve a teaspoonful of ''submarine'' in a glass full of ice cold water. http://cookmegreek.blogspot.com/2013/06/fondant-la-grec-delicious-sugar.html?m=1 This round of online dating is brought to you by this shirt found in my laundry from a mystery owner.Between my single best friend and I, we can't for the life of us figure out who it could belong to.
Tangelo (n): hybrid between a romantic and a rat. Every word he or she composes is zested flavor, but upon delivery beyond a screen, they fall short. Their intentions are truly rotten and remains lurk near sewers. No subtly in this post. This man must have set a record with how quickly he made me bitter. I know, I know. A guy starts spitting perfectly arranged words at you behind a screen on a tired dating app, should hold very little relevance. But call me vulnerable. Call me naive. The first is probably more true. But, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I believed him. This guy was super cute and seemed genuine. Or maybe I just wanted him to be. He opened with a warm compliment about my smile, in which I jokingly replied was only appealing because of the many toothless smiles in this area. He cracked up, but reassured me. Great sense of humor too, check. It was as if he was playing a game of Dance Dance Revolution. Synchronizing arrows to the illuminated foot square. He couldn't wait to meet me he couldn't stop complimenting me, he was sweet, and he was interested. I knew deep down that he could very well be spitting the same things to other girls, but I didn't think it would text so close to home, again. Should I continue the story or do you already know where this is going? He had also been spitting almost identical messages of affection and longing to my blonde, bff roommate. I felt like I was in a 2008 R&B song.....She said they had talked while I was in Spain and he stopped talking to her because he got a girlfriend. He found her again on the site the day after we realized he was a word Romeo, and began zesting the conversation with hopeful compliments. Immediately, she addressed the situation and he said he missed her and made amistake makingthe other girl his girlfriend. Meanwhile, back at the office, I was slammed with work and didn't check his snap message until later. When I did, it was erased. I guess I'll never know what it said (more fragrant fluff, lacking genuine girth). I inquired, but he refused. He didn't inform me of the happenings, my bff did. So... when I was filled in on the details, she said they had a date established. I'm sorry.... what? Why was her appeal to someone whom was quick to dress up a stranger in messages, but hoped to undress a girl he "should've picked" the first time? In conclusion, he did just that. At dawn before their date, she asked honestly what his intentions were. She specifically prefaced that if it were for sex, she wouldn't be mad, but would just would like to know. She didn't have to squeeze him for information... he pealed the romantic facade right off. "Just sex." "You asshole!" *block* All that was left was his pulp.... Since this is the most unappetizing flavor of the week, the dessert should illustrate that.....I could NOT think of a better dessert. Each ingredient is another line that "sounded good" for him to throw at some innocent girl.
Okay, okay.... I know neither my roommate or myself fall in the innocent girl category, but hey! This still doesn't warrant Mr. Tangelo's actions.
This story is the epitome of why I'm single. BAHA I WISH this was fiction, but like all other posts on this blog, this is authentic 100%. I found it fun to write it from the alleged perspective of my date. I used his body language, context clues, and slow distance from me help write his perspective. I don't think I was far off because I haven't heard from him since and previously he had a 12 second response rate.Once upon a time...She was tall and fair, and had a far darker hair color than my ex, so that was good. She was pretty, funny, and found my jokes pretty hilarious, or at least put up a good front that she did. She was much taller in person and had a fuller figure than I expected. Not big, just not size 2 skinny-- definitely would give a guy something to hold onto. She was from Texas and knew nothing of the west, which I'd come. I educated her as she proved that she could certainly hold her liquor. That's always something I look for in a woman. So, she was a cheap date at the fancy restaurant I chose, because she got full after the fries. I'll be honest, I actually did too. That's what happens when you put beef and au jus on french fries. Once I received my sandwich, I actually had to go drop it off in my car since, I was pretty stuffed myself. She dropped off her umbrella and we continued to peruse the city. At the wine bar is when both of our alcohol started to kick in. We revealed things about our past and I could tell she wasn't in it just for sex. Especially when one of my tells with something I could tell she was uncomfortable with. I guess I can rule threesomes off the list... Might need to go with another girl for that... But the date continued on . On the way to a brewery, she stopped short and made a short kind of a shriek. What was that? I thought. I turned around to find her standing on her left foot while tending to a broken wedge. The right wedge had completely flipped its lid and removed itself from the sandal part still attached to her foot. Oh my gosh. The shit only happens to me. I can't just leave her... She laughed and asked if I had a switchblade or a pocket knife. A switchblade? What kind of hood shit is she used to in Dallas? I had one in my car but she wasn't pleased at the response. I offered my keys, like a dumbass, and then found myself putting my key in her ignition. Okay just kidding. I put my key in the bottom wedge of her left foot. This is not how I thought the evening would play out. This Cinderella never made it to the ball....After successfully ripping the other wedge off, she played it off, cool as a cucumber. I couldn't just leave after that... what guy is that heartless? And she already alluded to the fact that she had a negative connotation of military men... So I figured I'd see where the night leads me. She disposed of the bottom half of her shoes and we made it to a brewery. She kept joking that I would never talk to her again... She's a pretty good judge of character, but I certainly wouldn't want to be walking in her shoes.... After another beer and a friendly game of shuffleboard, I swooped in for the kill. For the game, not for her. I was still undecided how I felt about her. Any other girl would've been distraught to have lost one of her fav pair of stilettos or whatever, yet she certainly rolled with the punches. Also, she was closer to my height now, which made her less intimidating. She seemed to be enjoying herself, but she strikes me as the type of person that is genuinely happy with things, which is a pretty okay quality. The stakes for our shuffle board game was low. I let her pick, hoping she would be a little more creative than a sandwich... hubba hubba. Then again, she had made it pretty clear via texting she was not interested in guys that made things all about sex. Certainly took some of the fun out for me. As time drew closer to the bewitching hour, we ended up making out in her car, but she kept pulling away. I looked over towards my parked car, during one of her hesitations, and saw another couple making out ON MY TRUNK. On my car! This kind of stuff always happens to me. We both laughed about it and she kept prompting me to click the unlock button on my keypad. So, I unlocked it and the couple was unfazed. I could tell I wasn't going to get anywhere with shoeless, so, I exited stage right. I texted her once, as to not seem to be ghosting her for her wardrobe malfunction, but then let it go. Hey, if the shoe doesn't fit....."This isn't Disney where animals will sing you through the dessert. Piece the pictures together and figure it out yourself.... That's what I should've told Miss WISHES-she-were-Cinderella"Remember my emphasis on how small of a town Pensacola is? Remember Mr. Roadtrip Rascal? Well, he's back. In Black and sloshed. While enjoying the tipsy 2 o'clock hour, at Seville, the only club in the whole panhandle (okay, I'm slightly exaggerating) someone lanky and completely out of control of their muscular system came into my view. Oh. My. Gosh. It's the dude I went to New Orleans with, Mr. Roadtrip Rascal himself. I don't know what was the most entertaining about this encounter:
"Roadtrip Rascal," I called. "Oh, hey," as he imposed the most uncomfortable hug of my life. "You ignored my wave." Again, ignoring me, he walked away. He not only responded to my text from a week ago, but he had the audacity to drunk dial me. CURVE. curve No dessert necessary.Is it sad that my dating experiences have corrupted my hope in new dates? What could I possibly mean by that? Well, this guy was super sweet and super fun to text and I started to second-guess thanks because he was so nice. And like so excited to talk to me and go on a date and said he really didn't get much attention on dating sites. I'm used to such an opposite attitude, that I almost started to question why he was so excited to go out with me. A) I'm not all that and a bag of potato chips B) why do other girls not want to go out with him C) did I just become a cynic? And D) Icouldn't wait to see how this played out Or am I gonna have to Bop him on the head?Not only is this boy another tall glass of water, but he had a cute hairstyle with like this kind of faux hawk thing going on and a tattoo sleeve! Are girls really this stupid? Like what the french toast? So we actually met at a pizza shop which, is not a little Slice of Heaven for me. I just feel like Americans are obsessed with pizza and consume it at such a rapid rate, that it holds very little wow factor for me. While walking through the line to pick our pizza toppings, he found out that pizza was not my favorite. "Stephanie, you are supposed to tell me these things." Our conversation bounced from Civil War history to traveling to Military Life to food. On the way out of the pizza shop to drop her leftovers in his fine car, Dodge Challenger (the only car that ever saved my good friend from college, her fiance, and my life in a bad car accident in '14) a lady by the door caught me stealing a glance of Mr. Shoots and Ladder's butt. No shame, because I felt like I was in candy land ;) Hey! Guys can stare at my chest, but I can't steal a glance of their assets? Bubble butt, check! After returning to his car, we returned to the mall to reminisce about dates in middle school when our parents would drop us off. Just kidding, I didn't have any dates in Middle School ;) #choirnerd4life I introduced him to the world of Dipsy Doozies. These are found in the one and only, "Great American Cookie." Patriotic as chip! Foreign to this sweet phenomena? It's where two cookies are perfectly united with a thin layer of frosting. This is the best kind of sandwich of all my life. Who needs turkey, lettuce, sliced tomato, this one roast beef, this one had none... So, once we received our cookies, I whipped out my credit card and handed it to the lady. He was so shocked that even hours later on my couch, he still brought it up. Yes, I did take him home, but not as bow chikka brown cow as you would think. Well anywhozer.... we were finishing our stroll through the mall when I caught glimpse of another guy I had been dating. Nervous as a pregnant nun in church, I barely dodged him. I don't think my date ever noticed.. Then again, he's a guy... He notice until the end of the date that I had blue in my hair. After the mall, we casually strolled through Best Buy where we fixated on a bin of movies. That's where we got the bright idea to go to either of our houses to watch one. I picked mine because it was closer and my best friend power cleaned upon receiving my texts of my arrival. Once we arrived, I put on "Push," which he'd never seen and I hadn't seen half a decade. He stretched his arm around me, but didn't touch me. It was positioned on top of the couch, just levitating over my shoulders. Shoot. I appreciated the respect and his patience... But I longed for physical touch and didn't want to climb the ladder. So, I did the most logical and mature thing, I ticked him to death. Then he held both my hands so I would desist. Mission accomplished. He got kind of weird when I invited him to go dancing with us later that night and left shortly after the movie. As he left, another guy in a luxury vehicle pulled up in front of our house. No, that was not my back-up date. It was my best friend's. The first luxury car came back to our house because he left his phone. Blushing the top color of a stop light, he said, "don't know how I forgot this." He made his way home and later texted me that he left his sunglasses. To be completely honest, I had no idea whose sunglasses they were because there may have been another gentleman suitor later that night (since the second was a rusty tool at the bottom of a shed) so, I wasn't going to text anyone until they texted me. Not trying to make a fool of myself or suggest that I have several male suitors coming to my beckon call to my quaint little home downtown. This sweet best kept secret is the icing on top.... or.... between.1 pound powdered sugar
1 tablespoon butter 1/2 cup shortening 2 tablespoons milk 2 tablespoons hot water 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
The circus adventure continues! Every circus has an artsy, more balanced side. This round of online dating walked the tightrope towards my attention... which do YOU think were successful?This pun-tastic conversation was with a past fling that only lasted two dates and then he chose the other girl in the running. Man, what a flashback to kickball team pickings: picked last every time, like a squishy grape lonley on the vine. But hey! I'm probably the most potent for wine! This guy has two blog posts and almost had a third when he invited himself to visit in pensacola... but then, unsurprisingly, bailed because This guy actually KILLED ME by this response because I was giving him a chance; he seemed like a sweet, sensitive type, but boy did I underestimate him. While engaging in casual conversation, he revealed that he is a writer. Eager to find a fellow word wrangler, I inquired of his specialty. Here I was thinking scifi or historical nonfiction-- maybe even comic strip teasers..... I was close: Erotica. I was pretty taken aback when I responded. Then he asked if I minded reading some since grammar is my thing. Ummm.... But, before responding, this girl turned it around to see if this was just a play from his playbook. YUP. He let girls he thought were "interesting" read his works. Then, this is where the conversation halted. ^^^ Marketing for his own creative display of "art." He now claims he was kidding but.... I could never be so sure. Tightrope walkers are experts on balance. To be continued.....I've known New Orleans my whole life. My parents were born and raised and I spent every summer from birth through college. It's my favorite city on the planet even though I've been to easily 130 cities. Probably 70 of those were in Texas... No joke. Well I didn't usually play tourist when I was there because we were too busy doing family things: frequenting festivals, watching my mawmaw's concerts at the New Orleans Civic Orchestra, going to cabbageball games (in which my sister and I actually joined a league one summer), and throwing the best seafood boils you've ever had. Sidebar: cabbage ball is like softball but with a much bigger and softer ball. I'm sure you can guess from the name, it is the size of a Cabbage. So you really just need a bat and some friends to play- no glove required Needless to say, I didn't really focus on the party life in New Orleans. God knows it has quite the nightlife and live music anywhere in the city. My family is very unique and so I tend to not bring friends when I go in town because it's just too much of a hassle and other things I'd rather not get into. Everyone's got their family drama and trust me mine would probably be a soap opera with extra bubbles. Well, it's not every day one of your best friends turns 30..... we did the damn thing and hopped in the car for a quick 3 hour commute to celebrate in the real city that never sleeps. I never understood how New York earned that name when their bars close at 2. Isn't that an oxymoron? Having a closing time implies that your city sleeps. On our trip to New Orleans, just the first night, we didn't get into an Uber until 5. Yes, am. When it's your first trip to New Orleans, you have to knock Bourbon Street off your checklist. If not, it's like going to New York without hitting Time Square or riding on a subway. Are you really getting The Full Experience? I never said it was going to be a classy or sanitary experience, but an experience with a story. And that's exactly what you're about to get. Titties and beads were flying amok and inebriation was this year's hottest trend. Channing Tatum's bar caught our eye and we filed in. There was usual bar decor, like a stripper pole in the back room and felt on the walls and ceilings. I ordered ONE SHOT and was charged a tip without my consent. I’m actually a great tipper and would’ve tipped more than 18%, but not when you force it upon me. Disgruntled, I walked outside to take a picture of the receipt, another bouncer at Saints and Sinners bribed me with $20 to NOT write a review. The more and more places my best friend and I ventured into, the more the appeal for New Orleans left her. At the last bar we spent the mornings of the hour in, they were having karaoke on the main stage. While dancing to the poorly song Bruno Mars or Destiny's Child song, 3 Guys almost in rotation, approached my best friend to dance with her. Pray for Us.The first one, front straw, but no drinks and she blew his house down. The second one was made of sticks. Seemingly strong with his muscular build, his ego certainly got in the way. So she dusted him off as well. Third one of bricks was from Canada. Strong and persistence and eagerly desire to dance with the blond American. After a couple of songs, team entered to brunette best friend. In that instant, the man with sticks blurted, "how did he get to dance with both of them?" Smiling it off, the Canadian continued to dance with both girls. Is a clock stroke for, the blonde decided it was time to go and offered her social media address. Now, she said don't take it if you don't want it. Glancing at her eyes and then adverting them, he said, I appreciate your honesty. On that note he walked away. Well, I don't know about you, but I feel a signature drink is the only suitable dessert for this series of 3 little burbons... Although, me being green with envy about the 3 guys showing my bestie attention, would illustrate the melon liqour perfectly-- it just wasn't true. I was in my city, not showing my titty. Lol So instead of some powdered wonderland donut, I give you the hand granade!So, typically these blog posts are about guys that I’ve met and things have seen. Certainly, everyone has their own perspective and perception of how things went, but they’re never embellished or falsified, and obviously I leave out details of the identity of these "misters" that I date. Well, this story is still authentic, it just didn’t happen to me. My friend shared with me because she felt it was worth writing about. This is why I Love non-fiction I'm on a Wayne lyric kick... #sorrynotsorryTo this girl I been talking to this guy for a couple months and please schedule the date. On the night of the date, she receives a call from him in jail. "Hey, I'm to be able to pick you up for our date, because I'm in jail in Wilmington for a DUI." Forgiving and more compassionate than most girls in this predicament, she responded, "Ohh kay... are you okay?" "Yeah, but is there anyway you could pick me up?" From an entire State over, she tracked to pick up the guy she's never met from The Slammer. Talk about a first impression. So, she arrives after packing a lunch and going over the valley and through the woods, and tried to drop him off at his car. That's when he informed her that he didn't have car insurance oh and the little bit about him having his own place is also not as accurate as she would have hoped. He's 47 and still lives with his parents. Womp womp. And now has a DUI that will be on his record forever. AND the date's not over... Her biggest thing is that he lied. She understands if you're down on your luck and you have to live with your parents, then admit that, but don't LIE! As if the events of the story we're not enough, then he tried to make a pass at her in her car and started playing with himself. I'm sorry. What civilized folk whips their dick out on a first date after being released from jail in someone else's car? Keep Willy Wonka in the Chocolate Factory! Oh and he didn't have insurance on their car, so she had to take him to his parents house. I've been through some crazy dates, but this is by far one of the bestttttttHe thinks he's a big dill, but at the end of the day, he's just "a pickle, Rick." 1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour 1 1/2 tsp. baking powder 1/2 tsp. kosher salt 1/2 c. butter, softened 1/2 c. sugar 1/2 c. sour cream 2 eggs 1/4 c. pickle juice 1/4 c. chopped pickles FOR THE FROSTING 1/2 c. butter, softened 8 oz cream cheese, softened 2 c. powdered sugar 3 tbsp. bourbon Pinch salt Pickle slices, for garnish DIRECTIONS
So typically these blog posts are about guys that I've met and things have seen. Certainly, everyone has their own perspective and perception of how things went, but they're never embellished or falsified, and obviously I leave out details of the identity of these "misters" that I date.
Well, this story is still authentic, it just didn't happen to me. My friend shared with me because she felt it was worth writing about. This is why I love non-fiction.... So this guy struck me as a little stranger than some of the others. He started out by inviting me over to talk because our conversation intrigued him. He said he had a house and an extra room and just enjoyed "entertaining." He was pretty convincing and seemed like he had no real intention, even though it was late at night and he had a full bar, that he felt the need to show me a picture of. Can't say I wasn't impressed, because the amount of liqueurs he had were great for mixing different drinks. I still declined, and he wasn't nasty about it, so our conversation continued couple days later. He revealed he was military,so in my eyes, anyway had a stroke and then, oh he lived up to the reputation! It doesn't take a dating app to land one of these interactions.... Just one of the 9 Shady Bunch guys!Days later is what I got this lovely message, then followed by a censored dick pic. Classssssssss.
Since he sent me a pic insinuating.... I found a meme sweeter than any dessert for this short-live texting encounter. Since dating in Dallas, Charleston, and Spain didn't seem to be enough, here I am in Pensacola out and about to see their dating pool.... I was surrounded by options! So many so that I felt it necessary to compare them to the Brady Bunch for illustration purposes of these squares. WHAT-- who said that?! Not all of them were squares.....Warning: If you're easily offended, you should read no further in this post or my blog. This is a place of raw material, thoughts, and reactions. It's not of condescending nature where I believe I am above any of the "misters" portrayed honestly in these posts, it is simply my encounters with single men and my opinions on the events to follow. You have been warned ;)) Setting: A warm April night in Pensacola, Florida at the only club in the 22 square miles of the city In case my confidence was lacking, this third night in the newest city I call home, I had encounters with 9 guys in one club. Fewf, I'm exhausted just thinking about it. RingoSeated on the fountain on the back patio of the bar, Missing a tooth on his left side of his mouth, his edgy haircut is what lured me in. No visible tattoos, but a half buzzed, half combed over style of his thick brown hair fell gently into his left hazel eye. While my drunk best friend was pleading for me to come inside, I persisted that I wanted to meander by the fountain. She seated me next to this "Mr. Ringo" and walked away. Laughing at the awkward situation, I sparked conversation and did strive to learn just how edgy he was. He's from Nola. DING DING DING, we have a winner. A couple other things were intriguing.... Surprisingly he opened up to me about his two kids as that his ex wife and him are on good terms, but she got remarried today. It wasn't until after he got my phone number and I was walking away with my best friend that she pointed out his wedding ring on his right hand instead of his left. Since that was something I didn't check, I concocted the perfect nickname: Ring-o because he left his "band" at home. Get it? A stretch, I know but, I'll take a Beatles reference any chance I get! After moving from the fountain into the dance floor section of the bar, I ran into Mr. Cuddly. Mr. CuddlyLooking like a fuzzy, teddy bear, I caught his eye as I descended the three steps onto the dance floor as he caught my hand. Turning to see who dared to disturb my swagger.
"He's ugly and you don't need to be talking to him," she slurred. "Girl, he was just being nice. I don't think he's bad-looking." Rolling her eyes, she pulled me to the dance floor. "You need to work on your self-esteem, honey." "But, he just boosted it..." She shook her head as her hips soon matched the rhythm. That was when I felt someone grinding on me. I kept inching forward until I heard a voice from behind me. Mr. Sleuth and Stand BehindTurning to see a sandy blonde haired guy matching my height with blue eyes and a drunk glaze. "Oh, you don't want to dance?" Thinking what the hell, since he was pretty damn attractive, I began recharging my hips and danced to the Neyo song playing with this stranger. Two songs later, he informed me he was going to get another beer. Didn't care to offer to fill one of my hands with a drink, so I continued dancing with little regard for his return. Mr. Hipster GlassesOutgoing and confident, tall dark and handsome Mr. Hipster Glasses complimented my dancing as he grabbed my hand to give me a twirl. Instantly spinning me into a brunette bearded man, he introduced as his friend. Bashfully smiling at me, I knew the wing-man protocol and wasn't upset at the set up. Mr. Bearded Bottom BreadBefore I knew it, Mr. Bearded Bottom Bread had his pale hand on my right hip and his wing-man friend with the hipster glasses danced in front of me. We created quite the colorful sandwich with a seemingly rye bread on top, a freckled pepper jack cheese gal in the middle (I'm spicy, so this metaphor works ;), and a whole oat bearded slice at the bottom. I can't remember the song we were dancing to, but we were jamming!! Two songs later is when Mr. Sleuth and Stand Behind returned with his one beer. He was drenched in a "what the fuck" expression and all I could do was smile. Then, I shrugged a "happens" expression back to him and continued dancing in my man sandwich. I don't know how this delicatessen creation ended, but it did and I was found dancing next to my best friend again. Looking less than thrilled I tried talking to her over the blaring music, but she didn't entertain it. Shrugging that off too, I continued dancing alone until the next fellow came along.
Mr. "Is that your friend? I'd rather dance with you anyway"
Mr. High and TightThis guy, aside from the first one mentioned on this night is the only one to request my contact information. Instantly Snapchat friends, he danced with me several songs before waving me toward the VIP section. It was evident this was no Dallas club, because the VIP section was two steps up from the dance floor, but, it was something I'd never been invited to in Dallas, so you bet my southern-ass indulged! Mr. VIPHis friends were technically the ones to invite me up to their velvet-roped section, but once up there, he introduced himself with a smile that could melt an iceberg. He had a hawk of a girl with an ass .... well, fatter than mine, there was no WAY (Jose) that I was getting within a 2 feet radius with him. I wished him happy birthday though and sure enjoyed the free bottle service. I danced with 9 guys and a bitch ain't one!Since this night was POPPIN', I made Brady Bunch Caramel Popcorn (1974 recipe) for this loaded post.2 14oz packs of caramel squares
1/2 C butter 1 tsp cinnamon 8 C popped corn
https://www.metv.com/lists/would-you-eat-any-of-these-vintage-brady-bunch-popcorn-recipes |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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