Title:	The Great Gazoo
Date:	2008-09-16 @ 15:45
Security:	public
Mood:	embarrassed

I wasn't really sure if this story was "Journal Worthy", but by a unanimous vote (2-0), I am told I should write about it.

The story you are about to read is true.  The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Well, except mine, which is kind of dumb because I'm the only one who should be embarrassed by any of this.

I have a very good friend.  I'll call him "Tony".  Tony and I have known each other for several years.  We used to work together.  He has teased me many times about my powers of "ESP".  I can't help it.  I just have the ability to feel things about people who are close to me.  This includes family and very close friends.  It also includes Tony.  I knew there was something up with Tony, long before he ever took me on an "outing" to explain it.  Tony nick-named me "The Great Gazoo" after the little green futuristic alien on "The Flintstones".  Not sure why.  It just seemed to fit.

My powers of esp also work with my best friend, "Linda".  Linda lives in California.  She and I have been best of friends for 20 years.  We both LOVE a certain Irish rock band.  I'll call them "T3".  (Not sure why their identities need to be protected here, but I'm on a roll.)  Anyway, at my previous job - the one with Tony - I used to have my radio playing at my desk all the time.  Anytime a T3 song came on, I thought of Linda.  And about 75% of the time, I would either get a phone call or e-mail from her within minutes.  It was funny and also kind of freaky.  We still joke about our musical connection, although it's more difficult for us these days.  Linda's really, really sick, so we can't talk on the phone.  I still always seem to e-mail her, though, just as she's going through the toughest times.  I just feel it.

Ok, back to the funny story -
Over a month ago, I took a cake to Tony's birthday party.  I had purchased a nifty new cake carrier especially for the occasion.  Since the cake was not consumed by the time I left said party, Tony told me he would get it back to me.  Two weeks ago, he even said "I have it all clean and ready to go.  I need to get it to you this weekend."  TWO WEEKS AGO.  I still have not heard from him.
Don't get me wrong.  I don't miss the dumb cake carrier.  I just miss Tony and I like hanging out with him.
I spent 8 hours a day, 5 days a week with him for 5 years.
The cake carrier is just an excuse for us to get together again.
You think the boy would get a clue!

On Monday, at my new, dull, boring, stupid, sucky, unfun job, I took a little stroll down to the ladies' room.  It's pretty much the highlight of any day.  So, I'm sitting in the stall, thinking to myself, "Tony, why haven't you called me??  You said you were going to get that cake carrier to me 2 weeks ago.  What's wrong?"
Five seconds later, my cell phone started buzzing in my pocket.
I knew who it was before I even looked at the Caller ID.
"Hey, Laura, it's Tony.  What are you doing?"
Uh, you don't really want to know.

*editor's note:  I HATE it when women talk on the phone in the restroom.  It makes it really awkward for the other people in the restroom.  Should I flush?  Should I pee? Should I wait for you to finish talking?

So, I continued my casual conversation with Tony, realizing that I could not hold my phone and zip my pants or flush the toilet, so I had to just stand there and thank God we haven't perfected live picture telephones yet.  He called just to tell me he had seen me driving on the way to work and waved, but I didn't see him. (Hey, the ESP thing isn't perfect!)  He also wanted to know the name of a doctor we had worked with who used to live in Galveston because he thought about her with the hurricane coming in over the weekend.  Blah, blah, blah.  Such a casual conversation.  It would have worked out fine, if only that other woman hadn't been rude enough to come in to the bathroom and then FLUSH her toilet.

Of course, he heard it.  It was the loudest toilet flush ever recorded in all of history!
I made up some dumb lie about, "Oh, I was walking down the hall when you called and I just walked into the Ladies' room."  Yeah, I'm sure he bought that.

He called me "Lily". (Again, I have no idea why I'm protecting this woman's identity.  She won't read my LJ.)
Lily worked in another office in our old building and used to talk on the phone constantly in the Ladies' room.  She also fainted while sitting on the toilet, walked in there without shoes, and failed to wash her hands.  So, really, the "Lily" reference was uncalled for!

Ok, so inconsiderate restroom lady left.  Tony & I finished our conversation and hung up.  I laughed at myself.  I'm sure Tony laughed at me when he hung up.  I went back to my desk and remembered the doctor's name and e-mailed it to him.

Moral of my story:  With my incredible telepathic powers, I must NEVER wish for someone to call me while in compromising situations.

P.S.  Tony STILL didn't commit to bringing that stupid cake carrier back to me!!

Title:	The "O" Word.
Date:	2008-08-22 @ 11:01
Security:	public
Mood:	distressed

I'm not sure how long this one will be public.

Oh, don't let your minds go there - it's not the FUN "O" word.

I have a very close, tight circle of friends.
The majority of my friends are at LEAST a decade younger than I am.
Several are closer to the 15 - 20 year younger mark.
Honestly, most of the time, I don't think it makes a difference to any of us.

There are certain times, though, when I am reminded of the difference.
And that's when I start to question myself and wonder if I look like a foolish middle-aged woman trying to hang on to my youth.
I really don't think of it that way - it's just me hanging out with people that I love and with whom I enjoy spending my time.

However, that little "Oh, is this your mother?" comment at Omar's party last week hit me a little harder than I originally let on.
Of course, Lewis was smashed and it made absolutely no sense for him to think I was Omar's mother.  We don't look a thing alike and I am clearly (I hope) not old enough to be the mother of a 35-year-old.
Here's the thing, though:  I COULD be the mother of anyone under the age of 27 or 28.
And at that party, we're talking about 99% of the crowd.
Ouch.
And, at the moment that Lewis made the remark, there was a moment of dead silence.
My jaw dropped to the ground and Sam and Nate said nothing.
Omar was the one who finally said, "Lewis, do we LOOK like we're related?".

But, I am stuck in a very strange chronological dilemma here.
The majority of people my age are married or divorced and at least have children, if not grandchildren!
Other than the fact that we have the same pop culture, political, fashion, and music history, I can't relate to them when the talk turns to the issues they have today.
It always makes me feel very awkward and incomplete.

There was a lot of pressure on me to get married and have kids in my 20's and 30's.
It just didn't happen.  That's the problem with getting engaged to a gay man in my 20's and then pinning all my hopes of a romantic future on another guy for 8 years during my 30's, only to have him dump me.
Oh, well!
Now, it seems like everyone - my family (my MOM, even!) and my friends - have given up on that idea.  If they've given up on me, it doesn't leave me with a lot of hope that it's ever going to happen, either.
And it makes me wonder: do they think of me as the "old maid aunt" or the "spinster daughter"?
Ha! SPINSTER - now there's a dated word!  It's like one of the Baldwin sisters on "The Waltons".
(See?  Some of my friends won't even get that reference!!)

And the biggest concern for me is this:  when I get my feelings hurt because I'm not invited to certain events with my friends, are they just being kind and not telling me that I'm too "old" to go out with them?  Because that's when I really start to feel foolish.  I don't want my friends inviting me out because they feel sorry for me.  I want them to ask me out because they enjoy spending time with me.  It's the same way I feel about them.
Yes, there are times when I DO want to "mother" some of my younger friends (NOT Omar!), but I usually forget about the age differences.

With Omar, it's more like I want to "Sister" him.
Nah, that's not right, either.
I just want to be his friend.
Hmmmm....why is it that "mother" can be used as a verb, but not so much "sister"?

Anyway, that's the word that's floating around my head this week:  OLD.

I need to go talk to my sister's husband.
He calls me "kid".