It's (almost) Friday, I'm In Love

I was chatting with my pal Kacey (of KaceysKitchen and Where in the World is Kacey) about the end of the world when she brought Mr. Tilapia, a man keeping 1,000 Tilapia in his swimming pool in Phoenix so that he'll have food when a massive solar flare knocks civilization back to the Stone Age, to my attention. I had the same reaction I'm sure all of you just had. I fell in love. 

Kacey feigned concern for (1) my emotional well-being seeing as how I didn't handle my last break-up, with a steak, like a champ and (2) my budget - so much fish food. But I know she was just jelly imagining my future as Mrs. Tilapia, co-founder of The Big Top Fish Circus. (Don't worry Kacey, you can totally be the clownfish wrangler when we make the Pomacentridae expansion. Or eat fish and live in a prison surrounded by zombies with my Mr. and me if the world really ends.)

Mr. Tilapia, my Honey Lamb, did not divulge his real name or address. Obviously he didn't want to be bombarded with proposals from all the single ladies. Here's hoping he'll Google himself and find his way to this post/me. Love transcends and junk, right? 

P.S. Mr. T., my sunshine, I'm going to need you to move to Florida. Arizona is too dry. Bring  prickly pear margaritas. I'll bring...it. Unless of course it's already been broughten.*

*My vocabulary sponsored by Bring It On 76: Who'da Thunk We'd Make This Many Movies About Cheerleaders Without the Aid of Wes Craven).

I have to laugh or someone* is going to lose an eye

This is a continuation of Dude, Where's My Ex-Boyfriend? Also, devil book. Read it first.

Oh. Y'all. When I said I'd keep you posted on how I manage to embarrass myself and whether or not I follow the advice of the mysterious fortune, I had no idea to what extent I would embarrass myself. Seriously, my life should be a television show. These things don't happen to real people. Am I Truman? Is this all a set-up? Cause I'd rather have the manicured lawn version.

Also, I didn't follow the fortune. Way too sensitive. And dumb. So, so dumb. I mean, I'm still awesome. But very dumb. 

I expected to fall down or lose an article of clothing as these are the sorts of things that usually happen to me. I guess if I'm honest, these things aren't really embarrassing any more. I didn't expect to be so dumb though. I'll spare you the gory details. Just know that there is apparently more than one way to interpret the statement "I want to be a couple again soon." And I did it wrong. 

To help keep you fine readers from making the same mistake and crying at your desk AGAIN like the big weepy freak that you are, here are a few tips on using the statement "I want to be a couple again soon" correctly:

1. If you are the one making this statement to your former flame and you mean that you want to be a couple again soon with someone else, not your former flame, don't use the word "again", it's misleading   don't pair it with "I miss you" or "I am a stupid idiot" - it's misleading  STOP and never ever say this to your former flame for any reason.
2. If you are the one hearing the statement from your former flame, stop listening.  
3. If you do want to be a couple again soon with your former flame, not someone else, go ahead. Say it. Just like that. Cause "I want to be a couple again soon" freaking means that you want to be a couple again soon. 

Pictured: The North Floridian Dodo.

*Don't worry, by "someone" I totally mean someone else, not you.

Touché Tuesday Advice: Man Dumb

Need some Whitfield Awesome advice (about anything)? Fill out this form.  

Ooh Foxy Lady

Dear Jen,
Why are men so dumb? I mean they are pretty nice most of the time, but every once and a while they just do dumb, dumb stuff. I did some dumb stuff. And I'm a guy. I broke up with my ex and that was totally dumb. I know, right? I realize now that she's really awesome. What's the best way to let her know that? (She happens to read this blog, so I'm hoping you answer this personally, and not one of your hundreds of interns or your cat.)
Sincerely, 
Dick Dickerson, Doucher IL

Dear Dick,

I honestly do not know why men are so dumb. Maybe that is what makes them able to kill snakes and remember stupid things like renewing license plate tags. I need snakes killed and tags renewed. Leave the dumb men be, would ya?

If your ex reads this blog, then yes, breaking up with her was totally dumb. She is obviously smart and funny and kind and beautiful and a snappy dresser and well read.* All WhitfieldAwesomeites (not to be confused with sodomites) are. Except Billy. 

Girls tend to be sensitive creatures, even the tough ones. A very simple gesture can go a long way with them. Like daily skywriting or tattooing her name on your forehead. If that's too tame for you, maybe just tell her how awesome she is and that you know you did some dumb stuff and you want to make things right if she'll give you a chance. I know, scary. She may be timid and take some coaxing. She may still remember how the dumb stuff made her feel and she'll want to be reassured that it won't happen again. Give her time. Try enticing her from under the couch with a laser or treats.  

Girls also know nothing about sports - they usually only give two strikes instead of the five allowed in that game with the stick and the ball and the squares that people run to. So try and keep the dumb to a minimum if she allows you to bask in her awesomeness again.

♥Intern #263 The Cat Jen

*I bet Natalie Merchant thinks she's fine, so well-bred. The perfect girl, a social deb. She's the sort that you've always thought could make, could make you what you're not. She's smart, so well-read. There are books, there are novels by her bed. She is the sort that you've always said could satisfy your head. But her frikking voice, her voice better not be reminding you of the promises, the little white lies, too. And NEVER, tell me, while she's touching you, just by mistake, you accidentally say Natalie Merchant's name. Just a guess. 

Any advice for this guy, dear readers?

Dude, Where's My Ex-Boyfriend? Also, devil book.

Last night, not long before the hours when nothing good happens, my most recent ex-boyfriend texted me. We had our first textersation (or communication of any kind) since the breakup (3+ months ago). We made jokes. We made serious comments. Then we made plans for lunch today. He volunteered to let me dump beverages on him and take photos for the blog, which I'm totally gonna do I won't do because I'm crazy mature.

As I was getting in the car to head to work this morning, I noticed a fortune in front of the driver's seat. I always never ever eat Chinese food while driving so I couldn't imagine where it came from. It, the random fortune I found in my car on the day that I am going to see my most recent ex-boyfriend for the first time since we ended, read "Be sensitive, but not overly sensitive." I've truly never seen this fortune before. It just showed up this morning all applicable and junk. 

My car isn't made of marble.

I do not believe in fortunes or psychics or any of that jazz. In fact, I like to prove them wrong. "Oh yeah? I'll be lucky in love on the 15th? Well it's the 15th, I just hit on that cute guy in the free clinic and he stabbed me in the appendix. How do you like them apples Gloria Vanderbilt* Mrs. Cleo? Worth it." But this little fortune seems to be offering some pretty good advice. And freaking me out a little, of course. (Though not like the time that devil book told me my ideal career was in web design, which I was already making a career in.)

I'll keep you posted on how I manage to embarrass myself during lunch and whether or not I follow the advice of the mysterious fortune. (If I learned one thing from Twilight fine literature, it's that romantic intrigue hooks readers. Um, check.)

*Glorida Vanderbilt makes tapered leg jeans. She is not a psychic. Her name just rolls off the tongue so nicely behind "how do you like them apples".

Friday Switcheroo: Goodbye Foto, Hello Featurette. Also Yoda.

I'm just not that into Foto Friday any more. I love photography but I don't love blogging about it. And judging by site stats, I don't think you love me blogging about it either. Boom. It's over. 

Taking it's place...

Surprisingly, I enjoy vlogging. Surprising because I don't enjoy talking. Featurette Friday* will help me continue my quest to become America's very worst vlogger. Each Friday, I will present to you a video of nothing in particular. 

Please enjoy today's video, Yoda Reads NASCAR Romance. Yes, NASCAR romance is a thing (excerpt [slightly adapted for Yoda] from Speed Dating by Nancy Warren). 




*Originally titled The Posts That Will Embarrass My Sister Fridays but those words don't begin with "F", not even phonetically. And Fhe Fosts Fhat Fill Fembarrass Fy Fister Fridays just looks stupid.

Are you on board for Featurette Friday? What sort of videos would you like to see?