Yo Sista is Sooooo Single that...

If we replaced "yo mamma" jokes with "yo sista's so single" jokes, someone could say to my sister, "yo sista is so single that she got dumped by the same guy twice and she wasn't even dating him the second time around" and it would be totally true.

Apparently I wasn't enthusiastic enough on a recent I guess this is us being friends phone call and I got dumped as a friend in a manner very similar to that in which I was dumped as a girlfriend almost exactly one year prior(!). [P.S. On my most enthusiastic day I'm Rosanne Barr at best. Plus I hate talking on the tele - a fact that he knows. Not quite sure what he was expecting.]

Around this same time, a friend who had been going out to dinners with a man, cooking in for him, leaving a toothbrush at his request, receiving sweet texts daily and spending solo time with his kid, was flabbergasted when she heard him say that they were not "dating". If that's not dating, I need someone to explain the concept to me.

Another friend went on a first date with a guy who was ready to marry her that night. (This ain't Dharma and Greg, y'all.) While countless other friends date the same guy for years and years and years but he's never quite ready to make a commitment. (This ain't Sex and the City either.)

Several of my gal pals have "friendships" with men who don't want to date them but turn into 14-year-old girls when they don't receive a response to a text within a timely manner. Timely, by the way, seems to range from two and one-half minutes all the way up to a whopping thirty minutes, even during work hours. 

So. To the next person who asks why I'm not dating (and people often do), I might say "because I don't know how" or "because men have me stumped, yo" or "because the only men who flirt with me are married (another thing I don't get)". Not dating isn't a choice I've made. No one's asking (spending most of my waking hours around men I already know with no chance of meeting new ones probably doesn't help) and I'm far too afraid of rejection to do the asking myself.

Any tips on understanding the psyche of men? Is there an app for that?

It's not like we traded the computer for a dog. Oh wait.

When I was a young lass, we traded our family computer for a dalmatian. Don't worry - it was mom's idea. (Now I'm painting faux dalmatian wallpaper in my media room. That's what we call full circle, y'all.) 

The puppy was much cuter than the computer - a rolly polly little thing that my dad named Chief and my little brother became BFFs with. Chief grew up to be 90-ish pounds and a very talented sneezer. It was a good trade.

I'm thinking of bringing the barter system back into my life. You have fresh eggs? Well I somehow ended up with two copies of Rumble Fish. Let's trade! You grew extra cilantro? I bought The Joy Luck Club twice. Swapsies!

Seriously though, I have an amazingly talented group of friends. Cooks, designers, carpenters, photographers, sewing mavens, mechanics, gardeners... I could list and list and list. I don't know how to do some of the things they are great at, and vice versa. Obviously we help each other out from time to time, but I have in mind something with more intention. Effort. Organization. Probably a database situation.

As a bonus, we might accidentally get a bit of quality time with other humans during all the bartering. I mean, hearing news straight from the mouths of my friends before I read it on Facebook - can you imagine?!?

Do you barter? Tell me about it.

Shout, shout, let it all out

Sometimes I want to scream and scream and scream and scream. Feel free to tell me this is normal.

I am the April Fools' Day Scrooge

I like jokes. I like comedic entertainment. I am sarcastic to a fault. Seriousness makes me itch. But. I hate April Fools' Day. Always have.

Being an extremely introverted, shy and socially anxious child/teen, April Fools' Day terrified me. I pretty much lived in fear of being the butt of a joke every day of the year - the thought of a day set aside for even the sweetest of people to trick me was enough to conjure up a quick stomach virus.

As an adult, I don't find AFD terrifying. Just annoying.

For example, a friend announced that she had broken up with her boyfriend this morning. I (and probably everyone else she knows) was happy for her. The guy is a jerk. He does jerky things. And homeboy ain't even hott (let's be honest ladies - the amount of crap we're willing to take off a guy is directly proportional to how much he looks like a 21-year-old Josh Brolin). Then I remembered that today is April 1. The breakup is probably a joke. A joke that will last all stupid day before she admits that it was a joke because she doesn't realize just how much everyone notices the jerkiness of and dislikes her boyfriend. Congrats on helping us like him even less - he really didn't need any help.

Then there's the age-old "I'm pregnant!". I saw that from so many bloggers today. Maybe this one is innocent and fun for your close friends and family, but when you post it for your hordes of blog and instagram and twitter followers to read, it's bound to cause a little hurt in someone who desperately wants to say those words but can't. Compassion. It's in the dictionary. (Check out the Young House Love April Fools' joke - that's how to do a blogger AFD post right, y'all.)

Over the years, I have gotten into the habit of not believing anything anyone says on April 1. I read blog posts and think "bull". I read tweets & FB statuses and voice a hardy "yeah right". Wanna text or call me with news? Better wait till tomorrow. Like my outfit? Keep it to yourself.

If I could choose one day a year to sleep for 24 hours, it would be AFD. Bah humbug.

If you happen to love AFD, unfriend me on Facebook at least throw the rest of us a bone and admit to your trickery in a timely manner. Don't leave us hanging all day.


Wanna read about something that's no joke? Head over to TurningMediterranean.com for my delicious and healthy recipes. #ShamelessPlug