Can I Just Tell You?

Welcome to Can I Just Tell You?
Thanks for visiting!

Can I just tell you? This whole site needs an overhaul. My goodness! Thank you for visiting, come back again in a few weeks. I still appreciate your support. :)
 
I love your support. So many of you have encouraged me to keep writing all these years. I took a few years off because I wasn't feeling very confident about my skill and self-conscience about my subject matter. I really appreciate your gentle (sometimes haunting) push to get back on the proverbial horse. My favorite thing in the world is making someone laugh, typically at my own expense. It warms my heart to hear that my silly stories have helped you smile or laugh out loud when you felt like that's the last thing you could do.

 

I also really appreciate the support of many boyfriends who read through my entire collection of crazy and still chose to continue dating. I'm not sure if you felt bad for me or found me charming. Regardless, thanks for the encouragement.

 

I'm going to change things up a little bit. As you may have guessed, from some of my posts, I have aspirations of writing a book. (Or two, three, or four… We'll see.) Anyway, all of my stories, up to this point 8/3/15, are true and happened to me. I'm thinking about adding some characters to my stories and playing around with fiction writing. You'll be able to tell the real stories from fiction. I think. ;-)

 

I'm not sure what my books are going to be like, yet. I've always enjoyed reading fiction but, maybe non-fiction is the right path for me. I'm pretty confident with the voice I've developed in telling my silly stories and would like to continue to write in that tone. I know I'm going to start off slow because, as you know, self-discipline has never been one of my stronger qualities. I may try to play around with other subjects, too. Stay tuned.

 

This site is meant to make you laugh through stories that you may be able to relate to whether it's sour love, a cooking disaster, a social faux-pas, etc. So, bear with me as I stumble through my experiences, hopefully, more gracefully than the actual event, but just as funny, and either share the lesson or just make you laugh out loud.

If there's ever a story that really hits your funny bone or makes your day, let me know. I'd love to hear from you.

So, sit back, put on your reading glasses and enjoy.

Please, take a minute to sign my guest book. It seems I have readers from around the world. I'd be more than happy to put you on an update list so you'll know when I have a new post. Cheers!

  

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Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Belly Dancing

Well, thank you so much for all the well-wishes and confidence building comments regarding my writing skills.  There was one comment that I have to address though…my disregard for people’s various shapes and sizes.  Particularly, the center of face region (Valentine’s Day…Hopefully, my last one alone btw, I did go to the psychic and apparently, this was my last one alone.  Nice.)  Anyway, I hope I didn’t insult anyone when I implied that having a huge honker would be reason enough for you to be a singleton on the most commercial date day of the year.  I am far from perfect although, my nose isn’t.  I can’t help it, I’m half Swedish.  But, the other half is Greek and I have the bulbous thighs to prove it as well as the far from flat belly.


Speaking of belly, I went to my first belly dancing class tonight.  I have the VHS tapes but they haven’t done me much good, mostly because I don’t use them.  They’re always a great conversation starter when I have company though.
 

So, can I just tell you? I started my workout with boot camp.  The instructor killed us, in a nice way, of course.  I don’t remember breaking a heavy sweat but I’m sure most of me will hurt within 48 hours.  Since I felt that I had a sufficient workout with that class… (I knew I couldn’t have possibly burned off the 10 Ghirardelli’s (thanks mom) or the brownie from Zaftigs but…it was either belly dancing or yoga next.)
 

At 6:30 we were all mulling around waiting for class to start.  There were two blonds including the instructor the rest of us were brunette beauties.  Actually, we were all pretty plain (including myself) and dressed rather matronly (considering the class) only two people had the coin sash around their waste.  My birthday is in August and I’ve decided I want one.  How funny would the story be about me sashaying around my kitchen in that thing while I practiced belly dancing and tried to cook?  You know I love to multi-task.  I’d have to have my "Kiss me I'm Greek" apron on too.


The class went through without a hitch although there were a lot of giggles.  My favorite part was when we had to let our stomachs hang out.  For real.  I think it’s called the “cow.”  It was really liberating.  We had to get down on all fours and let it all loose, thank God no one farted.  And, just so we’re clear, I would rather let my face turn blue before I did that so, don’t get any ideas.
 

Anyway, that was a huge part of the class.  Who knew?  “Push out your stomach as far as you can then suck in and up.  Next, shimmy your hips, lead with your chest while batting your eyes… " I can’t wait to master this one.


This could potentially be a big factor on why I won’t be single next V-day.  Stay tuned.

Tue, February 19, 2008 | link          Comments

Monday, February 18, 2008

Flamingo Dancing

So, can I just tell you? First of all, I’m burning my neck with one of those lavender scented pillow things that you hang over your shoulders for relaxation.  I don’t even care, it’s so cold out and in my apartment that it feels pretty good, even though I know it’s going to leave a mark.  Anyway…my weekend was fun-filled with a handful of stories.  Enjoy the first installment.


I have wanted to see this Flamenco Festival for the past two years.  I always miss it because I see the advertisement too far in advance and wait to buy the ticket, then miss the date.  Well, I caught it early again this year but fortunately this time, marked the date.  Of course, there wasn’t a soul among my peeps who had any interest in going.  The only one close to saying, “yes” was Randi but I think it was only because when I asked her she thought I said, “flamingo dancing” and we both thought it was hilarious.  I had described it as being full of dancers in brightly colored costumes and it would definitely be fun.  No takers.  The tickets were 68 bucks.
 

Joanne suggested I try Bostix for half price seats.  I had never used them before and assumed they sold the unsold inventory at a reduced rate since I couldn’t buy the tickets until the day of the show after 12.  How excited was I to get the ticket for 20 bucks??  Psyched! 


My cab ride to the Majestic Theater was an adventure in itself.  The jerk took the long way and I paid twice as much PLUS he kept gunning it so I felt nauseous by the time we arrived.

There were a ton of people there, I got to the front of the line with my cheap ticket and the woman said I needed to go up the stairs to the left for the balcony.  I headed in the main door just to check out the stage area, looked up, saw the balcony and the distance from the stage and thought, “Beautiful! These seats are going to be great!” It looked like a small theater.  So, I headed up the stairs to the balcony only to find I needed to go out the exit and up two more flights to the next balcony.  Uh oh.  I did as I was told and ended up in a seat right next to all 12 Apostles.  I have never sat so far from a show in my life.  My Van Halen tickets at the Garden seemed closer! The stage was a tiny dot in the distance.  People around me were apologizing to their guests saying, “I honestly didn’t realize the seats were so bad!”  There was no way I was staying up there and staying awake for more than five minutes after the lights went down.  Something needed to be done.  Quickly. 


I got on my phone/computer to try to find the original $68 seat while I was devising a plan in my head of how I would manage to get back down there with the crap ticket I was holding.  The internet wasn’t connecting fast enough and time was running out.  I headed down to the last usher, asked her if it was a big deal if I sat in a better seat. I explained that I was a party of one.  She said it wasn’t a big deal to her as long as I stay in the right section.  Aka: the east Jesus balcony.  I said thanks and headed back down to the stage area.


When I finally made it to the ground level they had just roped off the entrance and weren’t allowing anyone else in.  I made eye contact with one of the guards, turned away and headed back in the theater through the unguarded door.  I could see the ushers in the expensive section bobbing their heads to see who had walked in the door but, they couldn’t get a look at me because I crouched down behind the people in the back row. 


Well, as my heart was racing because I didn’t know what the heck I was going to do next, the doors opened and I thought, “Busted.”  But, no, luck was on my side.  It was a party of three: two men and one woman right around my age.  (Truth be told they were probably 10 years younger but the lights were dim.)  I thought, “Do I go for it?” My legs were walking in time with there’s so, there I was heading for the ushers in the pricey section with a $20 ticket.  The usher asked the guy in front if they were all together, he, of course, hadn’t noticed me so he said, “yes” and I just nodded with the rest of them. 


At that point, I had started to break into a cold sweat because it looked like they were heading up to the balcony overlooking the stage that seats four.  So, I could already imagine how it was going to unfold.  I knew I wasn’t in the group, the group, after they noticed me trailing behind, would know I wasn’t in the group and when we had to sit in an area of four, the usher would surely know that I wasn’t in the group.  My heart started racing and my conscience was yelling, “Tell the truth!  It’s a young kid, what does he care if you sit in a good seat even though you paid for a crap ticket?”  I started walking towards the second usher who was handing out the programs while the first usher lead my party of three up the stairs.  I looked guilty as sin and as I was about to confess, I held out my hand for a program and smiled.  Just as I got behind him, I stepped past the stairs and shimmied along the wall to the front of the stage through the handicap section.  The seats were like kitchen chairs and all moveable hence, the handicap signs, so, I grabbed a chair up front and moved it behind a column so as not to be seen and sat. 


Again, heart still racing, imagining the 20-something usher walking down the aisle and tapping me on the shoulder to say, “Ma’am, can I see your ticket please?”  Can you imagine???  How mortified would I have been to be escorted out of the Flamenco Festival that I had waited two years to see because I had to buy a cheap-ass ticket at Bostix??  I have never been asked to leave the theater before. 


Well, the lights began to dim and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I made it.  So, there I was, front row clutching a damp $20 ticket anticipating this wonderful show that had all kinds of accolades.  It started off slow.  I assumed the pace would pick up quickly.  It didn’t. 

People in the audience were yelling, “O lay!”  Everything was in Spanish, I didn’t understand a word.  The costumes were muted.  There was one woman who kept getting tangled in her dress and the men were heavy set clappers and foot stompers.  The lead man was dressed in tight pants with high heels and longish hair greased back.  Yikes.
 

Now, at this point, the only thing I can think is, “My palms were sweating for this?”


I left at intermission.


Mon, February 18, 2008 | link          Comments

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Valentine's Day... hopefully, my last single one

Can I just tell you? Here I am lamenting over boyfriends past while up to my elbows in a trough of popcorn with a sprinkle of salt substitute and a spritz of olive oil wondering why I don’t have a date on the most important date night of the year.  Am I the only one who feels guilty about feeling sorry for myself?  I mean, I have a great apartment in an awesome city, I can afford myself, I’m not overweight.  I could stand to lose 10 pounds but seriously, who couldn’t. I don’t have acne, I’m bright and I have a sense of humor.  I can’t boast about a six-pack but at least I don’t have a bun in the oven or junk in my trunk.  The list goes on.  Modestly, of course.  Yet, I’ve been on the verge of tears most of the day because I don’t have a valentine.  Silly valentine.
 

While I was at the gym I looked around at all the other valentine-less members as they worked out and thought to myself, “Well, at least I’m not shaped like that…” and, “Wow, that poor guy can’t be over 4 feet…bummer” among other things.  Shallow, I know, I’ve never denied that. I did feel some compassion for the people in my focus group but that still didn’t change the fact that I felt most sorry for myself.  And, I feel terribly guilty about it.  As I walked home I tried to dig a little deeper and think about how it could be worse.  I could be valentine-less and pregnant.  That would stink.  I could be valentine-less and have a gigantic nose.  That would stink, too, but then I would feel I had an excuse.  “Well, no one wants to be my valentine because they can’t get past the beak on my face...” 


Should I drop a hundred and fifty bucks on a world-renowned psychic who claims in her website that she can tell you about love in your life? What if there is none? Do you get your money back?  Fortunately, my mom called me three times today to tell me not to fret and let me know that she’d be my valentine.  “The right one just hasn’t come along yet.” Right.


I’m 35, what the hell is he waiting for? My short hairs to turn gray!


Thu, February 14, 2008 | link          Comments


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