What do you do when one male friend of yours is 100% sure another male friend is interested while you are 101% sure that particular young man is not interested?
You bet one male friend $50 that another male friend will never ever bust a move.
Voila - instant pay day! :-)
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Witch?
As I talked with my friends the other evening, one young man looked at me and started laughing, then said, "You remind me of Melissa Joan Hart so much right now I can't even take it!"
Do you think maybe he was accusing me of being a witch? :-)
For those of you who don't know, she is the star of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch," and my blog's namesake "Clarissa Explains it All."
Do you think maybe he was accusing me of being a witch? :-)
For those of you who don't know, she is the star of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch," and my blog's namesake "Clarissa Explains it All."
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Buddyaholism
Hello. My name is Larissa and I am a buddyaholic. I've faced this problem as long as I have been perceptive of men. I would like to say I have been sober for a few years, or even weeks, but I have not conquered this addiction.
There is one noun, which occasionally becomes a verb, that we single folks have hauntingly plastered in the forefront of our minds practically 24/7 - "Date."
Did you shudder?
I have always been highly sought after in the company of the male gender. I know, without a doubt, they adore me. How is this a problem, you ask? Anyone ever seen "My Best Friend's Wedding?" Consider me Julia Roberts. I am the proverbial best friend.
I don't blame them - little puppy dog cute, bubbly, steady supply of cookies and other victuals, social, complimentary, intelligent - of course you'd like someone like that around. I just assume men aren't interested in me and only want a temporary solution to some sort of friendship/dating woe, so naturally they want to be my buddy and nothing more - this is the err of my ways - the "buddy zone."
I was recently reprimanded by a male friend for always buddy-fying men - he claims I never even give them a chance. I fight back, "I would rather have them as a friend than nothing at all! They aren't interested and if I act like they are, they'll get weirded out and I'll lose them altogether! If a guy wants this luscious commodity, he will ask me on a date." My male friend begs to differ. I just didn't get it though. No comprehendo.
In the not-too-distant-past, however, I had the unfortunate experience of thinking a man was interested, only to realize he was just "buddy-fying" me. I felt an idiot and finally understood what I've been doing all these years.
How many men have I mistakenly placed in that zone without realizing they really were interested? How many opportunities have I wasted? (As I write this, I still find it an ever-so-illusive concept that anyone would be interested, although there is another part of me that thinks of course they would be)
I vow, here and now, to become sober from my buddyaholism - I will give all future males the benefit of the doubt before using the "F" word - just friends.
There is one noun, which occasionally becomes a verb, that we single folks have hauntingly plastered in the forefront of our minds practically 24/7 - "Date."
Did you shudder?
I have always been highly sought after in the company of the male gender. I know, without a doubt, they adore me. How is this a problem, you ask? Anyone ever seen "My Best Friend's Wedding?" Consider me Julia Roberts. I am the proverbial best friend.
I don't blame them - little puppy dog cute, bubbly, steady supply of cookies and other victuals, social, complimentary, intelligent - of course you'd like someone like that around. I just assume men aren't interested in me and only want a temporary solution to some sort of friendship/dating woe, so naturally they want to be my buddy and nothing more - this is the err of my ways - the "buddy zone."
I was recently reprimanded by a male friend for always buddy-fying men - he claims I never even give them a chance. I fight back, "I would rather have them as a friend than nothing at all! They aren't interested and if I act like they are, they'll get weirded out and I'll lose them altogether! If a guy wants this luscious commodity, he will ask me on a date." My male friend begs to differ. I just didn't get it though. No comprehendo.
In the not-too-distant-past, however, I had the unfortunate experience of thinking a man was interested, only to realize he was just "buddy-fying" me. I felt an idiot and finally understood what I've been doing all these years.
How many men have I mistakenly placed in that zone without realizing they really were interested? How many opportunities have I wasted? (As I write this, I still find it an ever-so-illusive concept that anyone would be interested, although there is another part of me that thinks of course they would be)
I vow, here and now, to become sober from my buddyaholism - I will give all future males the benefit of the doubt before using the "F" word - just friends.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Indecent Proposal
I have a long history of NCP - non-commital proposals.
Sunday night, history repeated itself.
I am sitting with a group of my friends, innocently enjoying the first half of "Return of the King," when I hear this charming male voice, "Larissa, will you marry me?" Huh?
Of course, I yell out, "Yes!" before I even know who requested my hand.
Then I hear another male voice, "No, she's mine!"
Then, yet a third, "No, no! She promised she's mine because I bought her a burger!"
I have a problem telling guys that if they buy me a burger, my heart is theirs forever. Oops.
I approached two of these gentlemen last night to ask if they had come to some sort of compromise. Nope. They decided a no-holds-barred rumble would be the best way to come to a victor.
The sad truth?
The only reason they vie for my hand is for my peanut butter pie and homemade oreos. They must figure marriage to me is but a small price to pay for a lifetime supply of treats.
Sunday night, history repeated itself.
I am sitting with a group of my friends, innocently enjoying the first half of "Return of the King," when I hear this charming male voice, "Larissa, will you marry me?" Huh?
Of course, I yell out, "Yes!" before I even know who requested my hand.
Then I hear another male voice, "No, she's mine!"
Then, yet a third, "No, no! She promised she's mine because I bought her a burger!"
I have a problem telling guys that if they buy me a burger, my heart is theirs forever. Oops.
I approached two of these gentlemen last night to ask if they had come to some sort of compromise. Nope. They decided a no-holds-barred rumble would be the best way to come to a victor.
The sad truth?
The only reason they vie for my hand is for my peanut butter pie and homemade oreos. They must figure marriage to me is but a small price to pay for a lifetime supply of treats.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
My Mind is Still on Vacation
I reluctantly schlepped myself out of bed yesterday morning to face the harsh reality present before me - the time had come to return to drudgery.
I swept my hair back into an aesthetically pleasing do and carried through the rest of my morning routine feeling as if I were in some sort of foggy, mud-laden chasm. Actually, the marvel of the day was simply that I felt invigorated and ready to conquer my nemesis of a to-do list.
I arrived at work, briskly made my entrance into the department, only to loudly proclaim, "I'm an idiot!" as I set down my belongings and headed right back out the door.
Somehow, I managed to leave my work laptop at home.
I swept my hair back into an aesthetically pleasing do and carried through the rest of my morning routine feeling as if I were in some sort of foggy, mud-laden chasm. Actually, the marvel of the day was simply that I felt invigorated and ready to conquer my nemesis of a to-do list.
I arrived at work, briskly made my entrance into the department, only to loudly proclaim, "I'm an idiot!" as I set down my belongings and headed right back out the door.
Somehow, I managed to leave my work laptop at home.
Friday, November 21, 2008
I Survived!
I will summarize this for all of you who don't want to read the entire entry.
I drove on dirt roads for two hours, flew out of an airport in a crop duster, and am still alive. So, just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...
Wednesday morning, November 19, I began my trek from Kearney, Nebraska to Hays, Kansas. The fact that when you read those city names and you have never heard of these places is clue number one that my little journey was going to be a problem.
Soon enough, I was told to turn down a road, I thought surely this was just construction. I thought wrong. For the next two hours I was driving down roads with no names. My directions were simply, "Turn right in 1.6 miles, turn left in 3.7 miles." Signs were posted stating, "No Maintenance Roads." I passed maybe, maybe seven vehicles in those two hours - all of which were either farm machinery or four-wheel drive. These roads were not even on the map, so I couldn't figure out where I was to then maneuver my way to pavement. I was praying the entire time - "Please don't let me get a flat tire, PLEASE bless that this is actually a road and not another cow/tractor path."
Miraculously, I conquered the dirt. The next morning, my little experience was topped off with my departing flight. The airport had no gates, they took us all through security as our flight was boarding, and there were a grand total of 8 people on the plane - including the pilot and copilot.
For your viewing enjoyment, below I have posted photos of the roads and the airport. Laugh it up, fuzzball. (if anyone references that quote, my opinion of you will definitely elevate)
I drove on dirt roads for two hours, flew out of an airport in a crop duster, and am still alive. So, just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...
Wednesday morning, November 19, I began my trek from Kearney, Nebraska to Hays, Kansas. The fact that when you read those city names and you have never heard of these places is clue number one that my little journey was going to be a problem.
Soon enough, I was told to turn down a road, I thought surely this was just construction. I thought wrong. For the next two hours I was driving down roads with no names. My directions were simply, "Turn right in 1.6 miles, turn left in 3.7 miles." Signs were posted stating, "No Maintenance Roads." I passed maybe, maybe seven vehicles in those two hours - all of which were either farm machinery or four-wheel drive. These roads were not even on the map, so I couldn't figure out where I was to then maneuver my way to pavement. I was praying the entire time - "Please don't let me get a flat tire, PLEASE bless that this is actually a road and not another cow/tractor path."
Miraculously, I conquered the dirt. The next morning, my little experience was topped off with my departing flight. The airport had no gates, they took us all through security as our flight was boarding, and there were a grand total of 8 people on the plane - including the pilot and copilot.
For your viewing enjoyment, below I have posted photos of the roads and the airport. Laugh it up, fuzzball. (if anyone references that quote, my opinion of you will definitely elevate)
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Omahappenings
None of you commented on my last blog, yo - I was seriously looking for participation!
I am in Omaha, Nebraska. Wait, no, Kearny, Nebraska. Tomorrow I venture to Hays, Kansas.
I have to say these are the least exciting places I've gotten to go for work, however, I still managed to find my friend Aaron to have lunch with! (at a delicioso place named Spezia)
Today I:
1. Had no one sitting next to me on both of my flights.
2. Gave a presentation for an hour and a half! A new record for me - my blessing of the gift of gab keeps getting better and better...or worse...depending on how you see things...
3. Got to use the BIG stall in the airport bathrooms every time - and we all know how much of a hassle trying to corral your luggage in and out of tiny ones can be
4. Talked with my dad on the phone after I realized I was at a stop some friends and I made 9 years ago on my first drive out to BYU. Talk about strange feeling. I couldn't have found that place again if I tried, but all of a sudden, there I was.
5. Kept getting hot air blowing in my face in the rental car even though the air was off. Rude.
6. Found a water park in my hotel. Too bad I got here after it closed and leave before it opens. The fitness center and I did have a good date.
I am in Omaha, Nebraska. Wait, no, Kearny, Nebraska. Tomorrow I venture to Hays, Kansas.
I have to say these are the least exciting places I've gotten to go for work, however, I still managed to find my friend Aaron to have lunch with! (at a delicioso place named Spezia)
Today I:
1. Had no one sitting next to me on both of my flights.
2. Gave a presentation for an hour and a half! A new record for me - my blessing of the gift of gab keeps getting better and better...or worse...depending on how you see things...
3. Got to use the BIG stall in the airport bathrooms every time - and we all know how much of a hassle trying to corral your luggage in and out of tiny ones can be
4. Talked with my dad on the phone after I realized I was at a stop some friends and I made 9 years ago on my first drive out to BYU. Talk about strange feeling. I couldn't have found that place again if I tried, but all of a sudden, there I was.
5. Kept getting hot air blowing in my face in the rental car even though the air was off. Rude.
6. Found a water park in my hotel. Too bad I got here after it closed and leave before it opens. The fitness center and I did have a good date.
Friday, November 14, 2008
It's All About Popular
Do you ever wonder what other people think of you? Scratch that, we have all wondered at some time or other.
What warrants "popular?"
What is it about me, or about anyone, that piques their interests enough to even want to talk with me at all, let alone be my friend? I've forged hundreds of lasting friendships throughout the years, but...what is it? How is it?
I like to leave a good taste in people's mouths (and not just with my cookies).
What, however, makes the difference between someone thinking you are kind, loved, loving, and socially acceptable, versus the person thinking you are conceited, overbearing, and "desperate?"
I'd like to say everyone thought of me as the former, but the sad truth is that I have been misunderstood a time or two. So how is it that to one person you are the coolest ever and another avoids you like Richard Simmons should avoid spandex?
Any thoughts?
What warrants "popular?"
What is it about me, or about anyone, that piques their interests enough to even want to talk with me at all, let alone be my friend? I've forged hundreds of lasting friendships throughout the years, but...what is it? How is it?
I like to leave a good taste in people's mouths (and not just with my cookies).
What, however, makes the difference between someone thinking you are kind, loved, loving, and socially acceptable, versus the person thinking you are conceited, overbearing, and "desperate?"
I'd like to say everyone thought of me as the former, but the sad truth is that I have been misunderstood a time or two. So how is it that to one person you are the coolest ever and another avoids you like Richard Simmons should avoid spandex?
Any thoughts?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Horror Movie
Friday was a dark and stormy night...
I had turned off all the lights and snuggled into the coziness of my down comforter. As I am about to drift off into what I can only imagine were dreams of blissful sugar plum fairies and little dancing ballerinas, "BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!" - A dear friend decided to hold a conversation with me via text. This particular friend cares for my kitty when I am out of town (aka, has a key), so I thought perhaps he had played a joke on me by moving something in my room from one side to the other, just to see if I would notice in my obscene neat-freakiness. I asked. Nope. Something little out of place, my first que of the events to play out over the next 30 minutes.
Those of you who know me know that I love all my friends no matter what time of the day or night and very quickly lose my magical texting thumb power and will initiate a real conversation soon enough, so, I pick up the phone and dial.
In the middle of a sentence I was abruptly cut off - not an unusual occurrence in my hillside condo. I look at my phone and try to reconnect - it keeps sending me the same disturbing message, "Cannot locate signal." Huh? I stretch my arm out into the dark abyss beyond my bed and towards the window..."Cannot locate signal."
Immediately, my childhood fears wrap their sticky little tentacles around my imagination.
What if there is an intruder in my house who found some newfangled way to block cell phone signals? These new invaders are one step up from the days of cutting the phone cord.
I next hear my door creak open. WHAT?!? Ok, wait, I have a kitty who opens doors - perhaps it was her. Something brushes against the side of my bed - a large something too big to be little Conor.
Like Michael Phelps, I lightning-paced swim through my covers to the center of my bed and proceed to cover my head. I look at my phone again, "Cannot locate signal."
What if someone is IN my room hovering over me right this second? The heater kicks on. The cat is opening more doors - I hope. I call for her - usually she is squeaking and purring loud enough for me to hear when she is getting into mischief. Nothing.
What if the bad guys got her? What if they broke her neck and tossed her over the balcony before they come to get me?
What if there are TWO bad guys and one is inside while the other waits outside in case I try to bolt?
I then imagine a scheme where one bad guy rings the doorbell whilst the other lurks inside, then they both pounce me as I go to the door.
I try to text a friend, "I'm really freaked out right now." No signal - but the light from the display catches the shadows of my room enough for me to realize I am alone for the time being. Whew!
"DING-DONG."
WHAT?!?! Are you friggin' kidding me?
The bad guys must KNOW I'm a sucker and am going to answer that door before I take a leap from the window. Yes, I had already devised how to jump out and land in the softest locale two floors below. I had even decided which direction to run, screaming like a fire engine.
I eek towards the peep hole -would mean guy be peeping back? I hadn't even grabbed my batons for defense! I look. Ok, that is definitely a man out there. I look closer....that man appears to be a LOT like aforementioned friend.
I begin to fiddle with the lock. Late-night visitor turns his head towards the light for full disclosure.
I open the door and welcome my newest hero with a HUGE hug. "I am SO glad you came!"
He was rather baffled and amused.
I then told him allllllll about the thoughts that had been blazing through my mind and all of my elaborate schemes I had concocted in those brief terrifying moments under my comforter, which was definitely not doing its job of comforting.
He had, however, come over just to make sure everything was alright since the conversation cut out so suddenly and my phone never turned back on.
We had a good laugh, he did a thorough security breach check of my apartment, and we excused ourselves to the sanctity of our own beds.
Looks like I narrowly escaped being the next Halloween movie, "based on actual events." :-)
I had turned off all the lights and snuggled into the coziness of my down comforter. As I am about to drift off into what I can only imagine were dreams of blissful sugar plum fairies and little dancing ballerinas, "BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!" - A dear friend decided to hold a conversation with me via text. This particular friend cares for my kitty when I am out of town (aka, has a key), so I thought perhaps he had played a joke on me by moving something in my room from one side to the other, just to see if I would notice in my obscene neat-freakiness. I asked. Nope. Something little out of place, my first que of the events to play out over the next 30 minutes.
Those of you who know me know that I love all my friends no matter what time of the day or night and very quickly lose my magical texting thumb power and will initiate a real conversation soon enough, so, I pick up the phone and dial.
In the middle of a sentence I was abruptly cut off - not an unusual occurrence in my hillside condo. I look at my phone and try to reconnect - it keeps sending me the same disturbing message, "Cannot locate signal." Huh? I stretch my arm out into the dark abyss beyond my bed and towards the window..."Cannot locate signal."
Immediately, my childhood fears wrap their sticky little tentacles around my imagination.
What if there is an intruder in my house who found some newfangled way to block cell phone signals? These new invaders are one step up from the days of cutting the phone cord.
I next hear my door creak open. WHAT?!? Ok, wait, I have a kitty who opens doors - perhaps it was her. Something brushes against the side of my bed - a large something too big to be little Conor.
Like Michael Phelps, I lightning-paced swim through my covers to the center of my bed and proceed to cover my head. I look at my phone again, "Cannot locate signal."
What if someone is IN my room hovering over me right this second? The heater kicks on. The cat is opening more doors - I hope. I call for her - usually she is squeaking and purring loud enough for me to hear when she is getting into mischief. Nothing.
What if the bad guys got her? What if they broke her neck and tossed her over the balcony before they come to get me?
What if there are TWO bad guys and one is inside while the other waits outside in case I try to bolt?
I then imagine a scheme where one bad guy rings the doorbell whilst the other lurks inside, then they both pounce me as I go to the door.
I try to text a friend, "I'm really freaked out right now." No signal - but the light from the display catches the shadows of my room enough for me to realize I am alone for the time being. Whew!
"DING-DONG."
WHAT?!?! Are you friggin' kidding me?
The bad guys must KNOW I'm a sucker and am going to answer that door before I take a leap from the window. Yes, I had already devised how to jump out and land in the softest locale two floors below. I had even decided which direction to run, screaming like a fire engine.
I eek towards the peep hole -would mean guy be peeping back? I hadn't even grabbed my batons for defense! I look. Ok, that is definitely a man out there. I look closer....that man appears to be a LOT like aforementioned friend.
I begin to fiddle with the lock. Late-night visitor turns his head towards the light for full disclosure.
I open the door and welcome my newest hero with a HUGE hug. "I am SO glad you came!"
He was rather baffled and amused.
I then told him allllllll about the thoughts that had been blazing through my mind and all of my elaborate schemes I had concocted in those brief terrifying moments under my comforter, which was definitely not doing its job of comforting.
He had, however, come over just to make sure everything was alright since the conversation cut out so suddenly and my phone never turned back on.
We had a good laugh, he did a thorough security breach check of my apartment, and we excused ourselves to the sanctity of our own beds.
Looks like I narrowly escaped being the next Halloween movie, "based on actual events." :-)
Friday, October 24, 2008
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