Underwear Limbo

I am just sitting here at my desk in nothing but underwear and a green reindeer bathrobe. Why am I sharing this excess of useless information that has probably put a random and unpleasant picture in your mind? Because I may or may not have a date tonight. And because I'm not exactly sure, I don't know whether to put on my comfy pajamas, or get all cuted up for some boy. We started IMing and things were going well. We bantered about the poorly chosen location for West Hollywood, as well as how much commuting sucks. Then he asked me to meet for a drink and I said, sure, why not? (He's 6'' and lives less than a half hour away, so those are the first requirements right there. He's also a writer so he was able to spell correctly and express himself using real words. Score!)

This is not me, but that is my bathrobe.
 And my happy face slippers, aww I miss those!
My friend was wearing them as a costume
for when she played a crazy person in one of my movies
in college. It was a good wardrobe choice for crazy.

I had to cut the conversation short because I was headed out to yoga. I totally would have ditched it, but I already signed up and would have lost a credit. Not to mention I skipped last week to go to my parents' house and already felt guilty enough about it. So I gave him my number and told him to text me if he wanted to hang out later. I also gave him the name of an awesome Irish pub conveniently located near my house. Then I skedaddled because there's nothing worse than running late to yoga class (you get hate stares when you interrupt the flow of the chi.)

I found this when googling "yoga bitch face."

No text while I was in yoga, and no message when I got back to my apartment. Since the original plan was to meet at about 8:30pm, I knew I had to book it to get showered and ready. But there was no real confirmation that he got my message about my number and the bar. So I proceeded with my routine up until the point where I have to decide, makeup or no makeup? Cute butt jeans and ever-so-slighty padded bra (which always feel like false advertising, but man do they do the trick!) or yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt? Thus the reindeer bathrobe. Because there's no commitment with a reindeer bathrobe.

Haha, and this had the caption, "Unbuttlievable!"

I re-read the IM conversation we had and realized that unfortunately our conversation could be interpreted in a couple ways. The first, that we were going to meet tonight at around 8:30pm. The second, that on some unspecified day this week (other than Wednesday because I have a date with another guy, BALLA!!!) we would be meeting at around 8:30pm. Oops. That's what you get for trying to be casual and noncommittal. You end up not making commitments like when and/or where you're going to meet up!

Lady pimp.

Why am I stressing about this so much? I don't owe this guy anything. It's not like it's a meeting with my parole officer (that's tomorrow night. HAH!). But I feel guilty because it would be a bit of a drive for him and he has to wake up at 4:30am every day for work. He was already going to be staying out late just to meet me (awwwww! Sounds like good people to me!). So because of this modified sleep schedule, it's possible that he's either asleep right now and that's why I can't get a hold of him. Or he's sitting at the Irish pub waiting for me to show up in my cute butt jeans and padded bra (side note, the padded bra has become a necessity since I started losing weight in the one area I could not afford to shrink).

This could be him, all sad and lonely
with only his girly cocktail to comfort him
from the devastation of being stood up by me!

So what do you think? Is he fast asleep, secure in the knowledge that we'll set up a date at a later time? Or is he all sad and lonely at a bar in an unfamiliar town waiting for this delightful creature who may very well be the love of his life? I DON'T KNOW! I already sent him a message essentially asking him if he wanted to reschedule, and no response. He may not have a smart phone (I don't either), so he doesn't get the OkCupid app. He also may be slightly dumb and forgot to take down my phone number and left the house without a way to contact me. I know I'm way over-thinking this. But I would hate to take the trouble to get cute (ugh), and then go sit at a bar by myself for an hour. However, I think I would hate to do that to someone else that's going out of his way for me (eventually affecting his work tomorrow).

I haven't even met this guy and already I'm going psycho on him (though that would explain the reindeer on the bathrobe I'm wearing in June). And I'm not really a psycho girl, I swear. I just would like some confirmation so I can at least put some goddamn clothes on!

I am not now, nor have I ever been a drug addict

Though it's a little soon to crow, I think I should announce that I HAVE A JOB!!! Which is awesome for several reasons: 1) Duh, 2) Unemployment sucks, 3) Being poor sucks, 4) It's a really good job even if it's not in film, 5) I'm over-explaining this. Yay me! So that was fast. I didn't even have time to enjoy my unemployment checks that were three times what I got last year when I was unemployed for eight months instead of one. Oh the irony. But all of this job-having could come to a screeching halt if for some reason I fail the stringent criminal background check or 90 day hair follicle drug test (which I just took this morning. Goodbye huge clump of hair, though I'm glad they didn't rip you out of my head and merely snipped.)

Some things they might find in my criminal background:

1. A fix-it ticket for a busted headlight on my car. It wasn't supposed to go on my permanent record and at the time I didn't even know the headlight was busted. But you never know how thorough their detectives might be.

2. A possibly thrown-out parking ticket for when I was towed most unfairly on a day they randomly decided to pave a small section of street without informing its residents. The jury's still out on whether that's going to happen, because you best believe I fought that mothereffer.

3. I stole a Milky Way candy bar on my last day at Blockbuster. It's sort of an unofficial tradition that I probably shouldn't share with outsiders, but still. When you consider how much they jack up their prices on candy and how much of my paycheck they got back for said candy, I earned that Milky Way. Call it a perk, if you will.

As for drugs they might find in my hair, I was a little bit more paranoid:

1. Birth control pill. You never know what that might show up as in the test. Mistakes happen all the time. Just consider the misunderstood poppy seed muffin.

2. I had a cold recently, so Nyquil, Dayquil (generic, but still), Airborne (again generic).

3. Evidence of what one might consider an "excess" of merlot about once a month for the past three months. Definitely not an abusive user, but you never know what they're judging you on. When I asked my friends if this might be an issue, they replied that if they never hired someone who had an occasional drink, no one would ever be hired. Except for Mormons maybe (one of the unexpected downsides of leaving the church perhaps.)

I'm hoping that that's all that could be construed as less than upstanding citizenship behavior. Unless they find out about my lost year in Bangkok...

I may or may not have been a drug smuggling mime

after my passport and wallet were stolen on a journey to find myself.

To celebrate having a job, I went to the Crenshaw (South Central) mall. Not exactly Rodeo Dr., but still an outlet to spend my not-yet-hard-earned money. I am not a shoppaholic by any means. I never get the urge to shoe shop and I would much rather watch a movie and eat chocolate to console myself than indulge in 'retail therapy.' And spending money is usually like pulling teeth. But today was fun. I bought a fabulous new pair of shoes (both fun and practical), some random stuff at Wal-Mart, and finally invested in nice, grown-up unmentionables. The Hanes six-packs from Target I usually purchase get the job done, but make you feel as feminine as a one-eyed tree-stump.

I googled 'poor kid playing basketball'

and this cake came up. I want it.

On a completely unrelated note, I also bought a basketball. Why? Well it was my Toy for Tots, a requirement for attending Ellen's Christmas giveaway show next Tuesday. I figure a basketball gets kids to exercise, and can be used for singular or group recreation allowing my unknown poor protege to make friends and stay fit. Plus, it's unisex. I played basketball as a kid and now some unfortunate child can get the same joy out of it that I did. And if that kid happens to grow up to be the next Kobe Bryant (only not an asshole), then I will feel directly responsible for donating his/her first basketball. And if they happen to seek me out and reward me financially for inspiring their dreams, then so be it. Now I'm feeling rather pleased with myself that I spent 8 bucks on the poor and cough cough bucks on fancy underoos. I also contributed greatly to the economy of this relatively impoverished area, so kudos for me as well!