Tales of Wit and Charm…

I had the craziest dream last night. I blame the piece of chocolate cake I had right before bed. I was at some random hotel in Amsterdam. Why Amsterdam? Probably because that’s where some of my weirdest blog comments have been coming from lately. The Yuppie and Marky were also staying in this hotel.

For some reason my front tooth fell out. Yuppie wouldn’t take me to the dentist because we were in a foreign country and he’d never read a biography on the dental work there. If you knew him you’d know that part could totally be true. I found Marky and begged him to take me to a dentist but he kept telling me to go back to bed so he could put money under my pillow. In this dream he was really into Euros, disturbingly so. I tried calling Rlo multiple times but just like in real life he wouldn’t answer his phone. Jerk.

I got mad at both of them and tried to walk home. Obviously that didn’t work and I ended up in a library, where I checked out multiple books on dental work. When I got back to the hotel and gave the books to The Yuppie he looked at me and said, “Sarah you know I’m very anti-TV and your tooth falling out is a direct result of your reality television habits. So I suggest either calling one of your TV friends for help, or just going toothless and become one with your inner NASCAR self.”

I woke up super pissed at The Yuppie and my subconscious. If I’m going to be in Amsterdam you’d think I’d at least make my way into a hash café, but oh nooooo.

My internet-hooker friend George came to visit over the weekend, I tried my best to rally and spend some quality time drinking with him at the bar.

Sadly, my “best” is total crap. His last night in town was spent at Red Rock having dinner with a couple of my girlfriends. I wanted to be home and in bed by 10:30 p.m. because apparently I have turned into my grandmother.

As we walked into the restaurant I saw a guy I briefly dated having dinner. I haven’t seen him since I told him via email I didn’t think we should date anymore. Yes, I really AM that girl. Shut up, I had my reasons. And good ones at that, for example he likes NASCAR, which we all know I strongly detest. In addition, he had a tendency to use words on my ‘do not say’ list. The two I couldn’t deal with were: “LOL” and “faggot.” Both words make me cringe to the point of nausea. I tried to get past it, but I couldn’t. The thought of sticking my tongue into a mouth that used either word was more than I could handle.

I know what some of you are thinking, “No wonder she is single, she’s way too picky.” Well guess what, I am picky and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I refuse to date someone I don’t respect and I can’t respect anyone who uses the “f” word in regular speak. I just can’t, no matter how much fun and nice the person is.

We enjoyed our dinner and I tried not to obsess over it, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I bother dating at all.

My brother, Matt, called me yesterday. He rarely calls me, typically his wife is the one who calls. Despite being out to dinner with my other brother, Ben, I took the call thinking it may be an emergency.

Matt: “Thought I better call and inform you that your nephew is now a NASCAR fan, and he really wants to go deer hunting.”

Me: “That kid is fired! I need a replacement nephew. I liked it much better when Carter liked Dancing with the Stars. Seriously, you and Holli better get knocked up ASAP and give me a different nephew. Or else.”

Matt laughed, but little does he know I am not kidding. NASCAR? Unacceptable. I’m not too worried about the deer hunting bit. Carter is such a sweet, sensitive little tyke there’s no way he’ll grow up and kill animals. He’s terrified of my dog, and she’s tiny. It would be difficult for him to get close enough to an animal to kill. But this NASCAR thing, is very serious. I HATE IT! His obsession with cars is understandable, he’s a boy kid. However, I think the love of cars needs to stop at his race car bed.

Also, spending time with his uncle Ben needs to be limited, and with adult supervision. Otherwise Carter will grow up with a mullet and drink beer in cans. I can’t think of anything worse.

This week’s “The Dating Years.”

I met the perfect guy for my brother. That is, if my brother weren’t adamantly straight and currently dating a woman that I actually like.

I recently met a man who, despite being fantastic, is as far from my type as possible. This is causing me more stress than it should. I need to learn to relax and go with the flow. Keeping a running count of our differences is not only time consuming at this point, but also keeping me up at night.

First off, he drives an SUV. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with driving an SUV, I just don’t. I can’t seem to justify the cost of filling one with gasoline. I keep my cars economical, but can appreciate those who don’t. Mostly I appreciate them on snowy days when my great gas mileage car can’t make it out of the driveway. My brother, on the other hand, not only appreciates an SUV but has the knowledge to discuss things like lift kids and tire size. Things I know nothing about, and probably never will.

In this above-mentioned SUV his radio presets are rock, KBER to be specific. I only recognized the call letters because the same station happens to be one of my brother’s favorites. My car radio is either on a local NPR station, or on a music station that is more likely to produce bad 80’s pop music. Not necessarily because I like that music, but generally hearing Paula Abdul on the radio makes me giggle.

Last weekend, after dinner, we made our way to the dive bar Ex-Wives Place. I love dive bars, but for some reason haven’t spent a lot of time at this particular one. My brother, of course, has on a weekly basis.

And if that weren’t enough, the new guy invited me to a NASAR party he was hosting. I hate NASCAR with a passion. The “sport” makes no sense to me. I don’t understand why watching cars drive really fast round and round in a circle is entertaining. I can barely tolerate watching real sports, like football, on TV let alone four hour car races. My brother digs NASCAR. So much that he’ll often lie and tell me he has to work on Sundays only to find he’s really sitting home on his couch glued to the TV watching these dumb races. (Un)fortunately I had other plans for the big party and wasn’t able to attend. I considered sending my brother as a surrogate, but thought better of it. My brother teases me non-stop and so far so does this guy. I don’t want them spending quality time together finding more reasons to mock me.

So if/when I let the new guy and my brother meet, I imagine they will have loads to talk about. Lots and lots of stuff that makes me want to stab my eyeballs out with a fork. But since this guy isn’t too hard on the eyes, and a lot of fun to be around I’ll probably keep him around. At least long enough to fine one thing we have in common, besides my brother.