smallscrawl

Title Pending...

2011-05-16T16:01:00.000-07:00

I found her.

I need time to complete this task, 'cause it's gonna be a humdinger. I am scraping the last Top Ten promise, simply because I don't care about it anymore.

Sue me.

Just pretend this is some cliff-hanger, end-of-show kinda (borderline inappropriate) crap and stay-tuned.

Obligatory preview:

Click here for the interactive version.

Fizzled.

2011-03-25T15:10:00.002-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm breaking up with Edward. It's best if I just come right out and say it, beating around the bush only leads to juvenile gossip and she-finally-realized-he's-too-old-for-her-talk. He'll get over me eventually, I mean, he has a lot of time on his hands and all...

I know, I know. We had our day, our tree-climbing, carefree days hiding from the sun and playing bite-me-no-yes-please-no-marry-me-first and running from that vile red-head. It saddens me to say this, but my dear, muddle-haired Edward has been dethroned.

We were -- um, I mean I was -- young, inexperienced and got caught up in the whole tough-guy routine. His eyes CHANGED ladies, how do you NOT fall all over yourself over THAT? He fed me. He could fly. He killed for me. And yet, eventually, the cold, marble chest that my head was supposed to rest on became nothing more than TMJ torture. Let's just say, it made for some cranky mornings.

We tried counseling. I won't answer any questions re: missing counselors in four not-to-be-mentioned states.

It's just not working. But it's okay, before you try to console me, I have news.

I'm in LOVE again! Yes! LOVE! He's FANTASTIC! He's WARM. He even has a heartbeat! He bleeds. More than I'd like, but he's a Gladiator, so it's to be expected. I don't mind blood anymore, considering my ex (and his family) and all. Remember the whole Santa ordeal? I'm more than used to it, so I'm totally okay with it, the whole blood thing, I mean. He swears the Gods have a plan to keep him safe, and so it seems, as so far they've favored him 100% of the time in the arena. It doesn't even bother me that he beheads people. I've seen all that before, with the vampire vs. smelly dogs vs. Voltori stuff.

You SO have to meet him!

His name is Spartacus.

Here he is after a fight. Obviously, he won.

But you totally have to see him after he showers.

He's hot, right?

He's really tough. Not vampire-in-an-alley-tough, but sword-in-your-chest-pulled-up-through-your-throat tough. I so upgraded, right? I KNOW.

I feel bad for Edward and all, but sometimes a girl's just gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I kinda want to eat him.

For those of you who aren't sold yet, or think Edward remains superior in anyway, I'm going to totally prove you wrong. I'm soon going to post "Michelle's Top Ten Reasons Why Spartacus is Better Than the Vampire Boy" list.

It's gonna be a (swordless) slaughter-fest. I mean, he's pretty much faultless, really.

For the record...

2011-01-14T00:02:00.001-07:00

...hillside "basements" are lame.

The Devil

2011-01-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

...is in the details.

I know my current project is heavy on the ick factor, and yes, I suppose I should warn that future excerpts get much worse. I'll try to let a few humorous injections salve the dark side, just so you don't get sick of me. In other words, I'm sorry for not rolling out the warning carpet before you walked down the isle.

Take 2?

2010-09-23T15:43:00.002-07:00

Attitude is everything.

Everything happens for a reason.

There are no coincidences in life.

When Opportunity knocks, She doesn't care if your house is messy, if your dishes are undone, or if your laundry is in a crumpled heap on top of your (unmade) bed. She expects you to answer, invite Her in, and make Her feel welcome. You can choose to not answer for fear of judgement, or answer in spite of your shortcomings. If you ignore Her too many times, She'll stop knocking.

That'd suck.

I'm trying to answer in spite of myself.

Yesterday:

Today:

I'm folding laundry, by the way.

The Secret to Life...

2010-09-23T13:18:00.001-07:00

is a four-part secret.

"Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive—the risk to be alive and express what we really are." - Don Miguel Ruiz
The Four Agreements

Wow.

2010-08-25T00:29:00.004-07:00

I pretty much suck, right?

I've been ignoring all of you like we've been playing freeze tag and I left you out on the lawn to play with those little gnome statues or something.

Sorry about that.

Let's just say life gets in the way sometimes. I hurt, I avoid writing. I keep hearing this is a good place to vent the frustrations that sometimes come with being me(esh), but for some (I have yet to label) reason, that's just not me. Call me stingy.

I need to rent some movies or something so I feel the urge to write. Until then, you can hang out with these guys.

Oh! OH!

2010-03-02T10:15:00.006-07:00

I almost forgot.

I'm still perturbed at the casual lack of sacrificial (female) name dropping in this area (because of this). I've come up with a few on my own, but the lingering feeling that the nail hasn't truly been hit on the head is busy thwarting my decision making.

A little help here, please?

The female Edward.

Who is she?

Today

2010-03-02T10:09:00.003-07:00

...is a really, really good day to write.

Considering I have more than eleventyfive pages left to wring out of my mind, that's a good thing.

Happy Tuesday. Now go smile at someone.

One thing I WILL do, is share.

2010-01-26T12:15:00.043-07:00

One thing I won't do, is give many answers.

This is the beginning of a project that has been a long time coming; what began three years ago is now in active motion. I'd love to be able to say, "THE END," by the end of 2011.

Now that I've found the missing puzzle piece, I think that's a very solid possibility.

Here's a taste of an unedited, heartfelt beginning.

Chapter 1

Opportunity Knocks

“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.”

~Leonard Cohen

“Get out of the car.” I was outwardly calm as I spoke, loathing the interval between the ending of my weakly menacing voice, and the impending, nauseating emergence of his. I waited reluctantly as the thick, cloudy silence sat between us like a wall of dense cotton. He offered no response. I closed my eyes and forced the tense air from my lungs, reminding myself of his age, his inability to match my strength, wit, or human decency. I knew, without a shred of doubt, that he could offer no suitable defense against my mounting, festering rage, should it get the best of me. He didn’t deserve a warning. He deserved to be drug behind that car, in full view of a frigid, unconcerned audience as he released his pleading screams, so he could begin to understand the unforgivable damage he had inflicted. I could feel him staring at me, but the deafening silence continued. I couldn’t take it. Without facing him, I erupted and hissed as I screamed, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR!!” I could practically smell the venom in my voice as it traveled across the back seat of the blue Buick to assault him, clawing at his very existence. Every cell in my body wanted to attack him--to uncoil and release the compressed emotions that have been hibernating, seeking sanctuary from fear-filled light.

I hated that car. I hated the way it looked, hated the way it drove, and mostly, I hated the way it smelled. I hated the fact that it used to be his car. I hated it because it smelled like cheap cigarette smoke and burnt oil. I hated the fact that the seats felt like a fuzzy garage saled, stuffed cartoon-looking prize that some greasy rabble won playing an overpriced, rigged game at a white trash carnival. I hated it because of the memories; vapid images of unbearable picnics and the rancid smell of mustard began to fill every empty space in my mind. Stupid fucking picnics. I remember shyly answering with an obedient, “yes, please” when he asked me if I wanted mustard on my sandwich. For years I hated mustard--mustard and blue Buicks. I’d swore I’d never sit in that car with him again, and yet, here I was--trapped like a helpless, starving rodent.

The perverse sound of his voice grabbed my thoughts and yanked me back to the present. “It’s okay,” he said, his quiet voice teetering on sarcastic. “I know it’s hard for you. I know why you’re upset and don’t want to stay. You miss your friends back home, and you probably have a boyfriend that you don’t like being away from. I understand.” I could feel myself trembling, desperately not wanting to cry. Unfriendly feelings of fear and vehemently provoked anger were twisting together inside of me. If it weren’t for the ever-present choke chain of self-restraint I religiously kept around my neck, I would have ripped him limb from limb with my bare hands. I would have slowly peeled back every aging fingernail on his evil, predatory hands and scratched his eyes out with them. I slowly released a deeply growled out, solemn warning: “If you don’t get out of this car, I am going to physically remove you from it.” I followed up the threat with a physical gesture--turning my body toward the opposing back seat he was occupying--and prepared to kick him square in the saggy chest with both of my capable, sized nine feet. I was no longer a tiny, slumbering child he could pick on. I was now seventeen years old, with a quick mind and years of playing, if not perfecting, the "what if" game under my belt. I had secretly prayed for this day; one opportunity to unbalance the power he thought he’d never relinquish. I’d never imagined it would be on Thanksgiving Day, at my father’s home a state away; a surprise attack...

Toothpicks.

2010-01-05T11:07:00.011-07:00

I'm handing a few to each of you.

Why?

Because toothpicks happen to be handy little tools for sampling little morsels of tasty, bite-sized somethings you aren't committed to really wanting yet. And, if you happen to like the little edibles, you'll likely want more. Well, that, and I'm big on samples. It works for Costco, so it should work for me.

Such trickery.

I'm finishing something I started three years ago. I would love your input along the way.

Keep your toothpicks, and your opinions, handy.

FYI:

2009-12-16T11:15:00.003-07:00

My writing will commence in January.

You've been warned.

Yeah, well...

2009-08-07T13:52:00.006-07:00

I prefer the number 7. It, however, doesn't prefer me. The number 5 seems to. Not that Numerology *really* has anything to do with my personality, but dang. I seriously could have written some of this myself. It kinda scares me a little (a wee tad).

Lil' smidge from ofesite.com. Curiosity led me there--after facebook told me I was a 5.

"Your Life Path Number is the most important number in chart. It shows your 'true' self, the ways in which you are best able to lead a fulfilling life and the challenges you will face."

1 + 9 + 7 + 5 + 5 + 1 + 4 = 3 + 2 = 5 = 5

Your Life Path Number: 5 The Wind. Those born under a Life Path Number 5 are as hard to catch, and as freedom-loving as the wind itself...

LIFE PATH 5.

"The key to your personality is freedom. You love travel, adventure, variety and meeting new people. You posses the curiosity of a cat, and you long to experience all of life. You love to be involved in several things at the same time, as long as you are not tied down to any one area.

You like change, new things and new horizons. You can make friends easily, and your personality is upbeat and often inspiring, attracting people form all walks of life.

You have a way with words, and an uncanny ability to motivate others. Highly suitable vocations for you include sales, promotion, entertainment, investment, science, medicine, the occult, public service an all careers that require travel and verbal skills. A person with 5 Life Path is often comfortable in front of an audience particularly as master of ceremonies or in comedy.

You are sensual and you love to taste all of life. You find it difficult to commit to one relationship, but once you committed, you can be faithful as an old dog.

You likely lack discipline and order. You can also be impulsive, doing or expressing things you regret later. Freedom and a need for adventures sometimes are not properly controlled y those born with this life path, which can cause problems with drug abuse, overindulgence in food or sex, or general abuse of the gift of life. You are multi-talented and posses a variety of diverse abilities. However, discipline and focus are the true keys to your success. Without these, many of the tasks you begin will remain unfinished and they will fail to realize the true fruits of your abilities. With hard work and perseverance, the sky is the limit.

You may have been perceived as a wild child by adults and a source of concern by your family. However, do not be obliged to hurry your choice of career. You are often a late bloomer, and you need to experience life before you can truly know and commit to your heart's desire.

Your challenge is to learn the true meaning of freedom. Change is constant in your world, requiring adaptability and courage. Try to maintain an exercise program, keep your body in shape and limber. The flexibility and durability of your body will promote security and confidence within you.

You yearn for freedom, and self-employment attracts you powerfully. Your challenge is to settle into one area in order to cultivate your ability sufficiently to earn a living and to attain success. Once you find the niche, the motivation and inspiration you supply to others will bring you much in return. You will find your friends and colleges supporting and promoting you in the road of success."

Well, hell. Bring on the niche.

Clarity.

2009-03-23T03:02:00.014-07:00

I love that word, and I use it whenever I stumble across an appropriate insertion point in writing. Clarity. It just rolls off the tongue.

I think I'm intrigued by it simply because, it has a (self induced) tendency to elude me--at times. I'm pretty damn talented when it comes to appreciating the beauty and benefit of even the dimmest of circumstances, so accepting something even though it's clouded has become a common practice in my life.

I have another tendency (okay, I have way too many). I play the mental music of responsibility to others over self. You know how the song goes (feel free to sing along): This isn't best for me, but it sure makes me happy making (insert others here) happy so it must be the right thing to do (cha, cha, cha). Then I sit and wonder; why do I feel crappy?

Don't confuse this with true selflessness. I commonly offer up huge helpings of selfless giving, and do so with an intensely joyful heart. Those moments never feel crappy. They feed me, nourish me, and do provide true clarity. The reward of selfless love is crystal clear.

It's the habit 'friend' we're talking about here; the habit of putting self second. I came across a passage in the book I'm reading (obsessing over), "Let Your Life Speak, Listening for the Voice of Vocation" by Parker J. Palmer.

Take a gander at this:

..."self-care is never a selfish act--it is simply good stewardship of the only give I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give it the care it requires, we do so not only for ourselves but for the many others whose lives we touch."

He quotes the poet Rumi: "'If you are here unfaithfully with us, you're causing terrible damage.'"

Then continues: "If we are unfaithful to true self, we will extract a price from others. We will make promises we cannot keep, build houses from flimsy stuff, conjure dreams that devolve into nightmares, and other people will suffer--if we are unfaithful to true self."

The consequences of ignoring our true selves, the voice deep inside that guides and directs us, are far reaching. Our actions have a way of coming around full circle, whether they are honest and done for the right reason, or dishonest and done out of fear. We may be 'helping' in the short term, but future suffering is sure to follow.

The point?

Don't follow the herd. Don't stick with it because it's the easiest way. Don't move forward knowing you shouldn't--only because you are afraid.

Listen to yourself. Act on those true feelings.

Parched.

2009-03-22T19:53:00.009-07:00

Yeah, yeah. I haven't been "writing." It appears my cut & paste antics are pissing a few of you off. Guess my personality is somehow missing when I merely share, and don't partake in the creation. Funny how that works...

Well, my smart-alec little mouth has been a tad on the dry side. Not to mention, I've been in the abysmal pit of sponging up information from multi-paged, fat little squares I refer to as books. Okay, most of them are rectangles, let's not get annoyingly technical. And, I tend to only write when the urge nudges me (can you imagine? A nudging urge? I'd like to see that...) rather than labeling it a time wasting (or absorbing, since we're talking about sponging) activity.

I'm learning a lot these days. I'm figuring out that post-nudge writing is more therapeutic than I remember it being. I'm also busy cultivating my strengths and lavishing extra attention on my towering goals.

There. I shared today. Happy?

Something New.

2009-03-11T12:23:00.003-07:00

From Parker J. Palmer's "Let Your Life Speak, Listening for the Voice of Vocation."

A HUGE thank you to Rhett Smith for the recommendation.

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.
--William Stafford, "ASK ME"

This is beautiful, and incredibly piercing.

Dreamers...

2009-02-25T06:40:00.006-07:00

Listen up. Take a moment today to appreciate life. Stand outside, whether it's warm or cold. Close your eyes, and just feel the air. Appreciate what it feels like to be alive, to be loved, to have your family, friends, and the many blessings that surround you. Life is precious, amazing, and such an incredible gift to each of us. Sometimes the day to day routine can cloud what life is really about, and how generous the miracles around us really are. Appreciate today. Take a second look at the colors around you, the sounds around you, and the people who smile at you today. Be open to happiness. It just may make an appearance.

p.s.

2009-01-07T12:10:00.007-07:00

::speechless:: (I know, shocking)

Eric & Me

2009-01-06T10:44:00.010-07:00

Sorry, I just took it upon myself to rename Marley & Me. Is that bad?

I just figured you'd rather listen to me rant about this guy, than the galling whining about the 13,467 tears I abandoned at the theater.

I read the book, so I expected the crying jag.

But, I certainly don't remember any mention of a hotter-than-hot-sidekick-writer-reporter with an impossibly curvy smile, and an enigmantic ability to make me squirm in my chair like an exuberant, yappy toddler gripping a Red Bull and a bag of skittles. It's ridiculous.

Don't get me wrong, the puppies were adorable, and yes, I know it was a dog movie. But dang. Even puppies can't compete with Eric Dane.

This is the part where I (cautiously) admit I must have been either sleeping or studying while Grey's Anatomy was on, or you would have welcomed this rhetoric long ago, I'm sure of it.

All I can say is, Rebecca Gayheart is one lucky broad.

Oh, and don't tell Edward (you know how he gets).

Happy First Monday, 2009!

2009-01-05T09:02:00.008-07:00

A little sharing of something I love:

Secondly, a little resolution time.

There are a few things I'll be working on. I've got some old issues that need resolvin'. It turns out that not dealing with things doesn't make them go away.

Who'dathunkit.

The Cullen Claus

2008-12-25T15:07:00.040-07:00

'twas twilight before Christmas, and all through my house
Cullen creatures were stirring, including my spouse.
The strong traps were set by the chimney with care,
Oh, those sweet smelling rodents did not have a prayer.

We were sipping our cocktails of varying reds,
Watching fat tasty children outside on their sleds.
With Alice a'wrapping, and me on Edwards lap,
Poor Emmet was listening to Rosalie yap.

When from inside the kitchen, there arose such a clatter,
Esme dropped her mixing bowl full of blood-cookie batter!
I jumped from my seat when I heard the loud crash,
And we saw Santa running 'cross the yard in a flash!

We all heard him yelling, NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!
And we saw Jasper chasing, with his eyes all aglow.
Then what to our hungry dark eyes do appear,
But eight savory prey in the form of reindeer!

With such a young vampire, so weak and so quick,
I was sure this would be the end of St. Nick!
He was sure to catch him, he had laid his claim,
To lose good old Santa would be such a shame!

Help Alice! Help Esme! Help Carlisle, I called!
Help Emmet! Help Roaslie! Help Edward, I bawled!
We must catch him quickly, we don't have much time!
Then up to the chimney I saw Santa climb.

Suddenly in a twinkling, he fell though the roof!
I had never met Santa, but now I had proof!
He hit the ground running, with a heart that did pound,
And suddenly vampires were circling around!

He was pale and shaking from his head to his foot,
When I suddenly yelled out, YOU BETTER STAY PUT!
Jasper was still hunting his Christmas Eve snack,
When the house filled with howls from an angry wolf pack!

Poor Santa just stood there, his fortune quite scary,
I was so sure this Christmas would soon lose it's Merry!
His poor little mouth was turned into a frown,
And werewolves were hoping for a Holiday showdown!

The dogs kept their distance, we thought them quite smelly,
And the jolly old round guy tried to suck in his belly!
He thought looking trimmer could ward off the teeth,
Then the Cullens trapped Jasper, in the shape of a wreath!

Santa was chubby, and smelled so good, he did!
I was thankful his reindeer had ran off and hid.
This could not be happening, it must be all in my head,
Then I heard Jasper whisper, you have nothing to dread.

I'll try to control it, this weird little quirk,
Even I know that Santa has important work!
And then with two fingers he held his nose closed,
Edward scooped up St. Nick, and he instantly froze!

Outside he took him, and put him into his sleigh,
He said, this Christmas you're lucky, now hurry away!
We watched as the wolves ran off into the night,
And we heard Santa chuckle as he flew out of sight,

Merry Christmas to all! Now it's MY turn to bite!

Where mah ZETA's at??!

2008-12-21T16:06:00.018-07:00

I have a new best friend.

And, because I know my (publicly pledged stalkers and anonymous pawns) perusers are undeniably sanguine, I didn't bring you any lotion-filled Kleenex. I know your feelings won't be hurt.

I'm a big believer in friend sharing, and I know you'll approve of this one.

Perusers, meet (Anna Faris) "Shelley" from "House Bunny." She's going to be our new (house) blog mother.

Shelley: "My name is Shelley and I am here to be your house (blog) mother."

Michelle: "This is Ben."
Shelley: [in a deep voice] "Ben."
Michelle: "And then Christa, and Renee."
Shelley: [in a deep voice] "Chris-ta, Rhe-nae"
Jeremy: "What is that?"
Shelley: "It's just this thing I do to remember peoples names."
Michelle: "Shelley, that's Jeremy."
Shelley: nods head [in a deep voice] "Jer-e-my."

Karyn: "You are the exorcist, that's great!"

Michelle: "This is Emily, and she's Amanda."
Shelley: [in a deep voice] "Em-a-lee, Ah-man-dah"

(She already knows Tony and Russ, no need for an introduction.)

Michelle: "Guys, Shelley is awesome. She's fun, affectionate, and kind (Shelley defines kind as love with its work boots on)."

Shelley: "We're going to have some amazing parties, learn all kinds of "'things and stuff,'" and do yoga on the lawn every morning!"

Michelle: "We only have one problem: We need 30 new pledges (followers in blogspeak) by December 25th or they (I have no idea who the hell "they" are) are going to take away our house! We can't let that happen. [pouting] I kind of like our screen door."

Shelley suggested we attract some attention with a car wash.

Who's in!??

Maybe it IS Rocket Science...

2008-12-19T11:59:00.017-07:00

Unfortunately, I don't give refunds. See, these little tidbits of literary candy are free, so upon your (stunning) possible dissatisfaction, my only option is to try just that much harder to please you. Your apparent call for a "do-over" has been justly noted.

Here's my feeble attempt at a rebound.

I'm really not a man hater, and no, I don't think "you" includes the entire male population on planet earth, or elsewhere. I simply shove my opinion down your eager little throats as requested. Aren't I kind?

Conversely, I find your company quite pleasing, so much so in fact, that I have a robust tendency to prefer your company over the company of most women (yes, I said most, and no, ladies, I won't respond to catty -- hiss hiss -- comments). Capiche?

My respect for you grows as your expectation continues to rise, and with that being said, I'm flipping the coin. As a friend of mine would say, "this one's for the ladies."

Guys, I'm profoundly aware of the recondite annoyance of women. I've been overheard on more than one occasion stating the obvious -- "I'm glad I'm female, because had I entered this life as a man, women would drive me crazy."

Most of us have no idea what we want, and we expect you to not only know, but to also provide us with such to our in⋅du⋅bi⋅ta⋅ble satisfaction.

Yes, that's crazy, and no, I don't blame you for the collective eye-rolls and side-stepping of our oh-so-barmy company.

I'm actually quite happy that Edward, and his leviathan affect on the multi-generational female psyche, finally exists.

Why, you ask? Well, it's quite simple. You may be thinking I'm going to say it's because you finally have a realistic idea of what women really want (nix the pseudo-vampire persona). Well, here's where my coin flip applies.

I'm fractionally giggly, because while women are swooning like tabbies in heat, they still have no idea why. I find that peculiar. I'm sure you do too.

Here's the gist. You really do have a point.

Ladies, put your claws back in. Edward is awkward, skinny (skinny = sexy in my assessment, but disregard that groundless comment), and pale. He is a *tad* overwhelming, and if he were your common boy next door, you'd likely think him a weirdo.

In real, bona fide, card-carrying life, you'd completely ignore him -- even if he tried to give you money (and don't hit me with the "'it all depends how much'" line, because I'm not buyin' it, and if you do, you're not only idiosyncratic, but also a hooker). Where do all of you think this leaves the real guys? Your harebrained sanctions for "normal" behavior are of your own construction, and well, my heartfelt congratulations to you, because you've outdone the guys.

I won't put my "Michelle's Top Ten Reasons (insert female persona here) is Better Than All the Other Erratic Women Out There" into action until (and if) I get a *qualified nominee.

Until then, I'll summarize just for the sake of clarity. You women are swooning because you are confused (shocking, I know). You've packed up all your neat little garments made of 100% pure expectation and you're planning to move to vampire-island, where bountiful disappointment awaits (alongside your orders of pretty, yummy drinks), because your blood-sucking love interest is sure to be sleeping in the dog house within seventy-two hours of your arrival.

It's true, shut up.

He'll come to sweep you up into the magical trees, and your warm, little, welcoming self will kindly provide him with a gratudial verbal tirade (that would chase him right back to Italy, into the welcoming arms of the Volturi), because either A) You don't like to be treated that way, or B) He didn't anticipate the fact that you were in the "mood" for a quiet, sullen evening with a salad and a spritzer.

I know! The absolute nerve of some people.

*Qualified in this case consists of a female character, bound by the same tantamount (look it up) standards as "our" dreamy, muddle-haired Edward.

Bring "her" on, I'm all over this one.

There Really ARE Rules.

2008-12-18T13:47:00.019-07:00

I need to clarify a few minor details.

I've gotten a few questions about Edward, and why his spice is so much spicier than yours. So, I've got a few answers for you, just to be clear.

1. Climbing through our windows.
Okay, no, we don't want you really invading our privacy that way (unless of course, you really are Edward Cullen). Yes, you are right in thinking that sort of rude behavior early on would likely result in a restraining order, and your new public nickname sounding like "stalker."

What I really mean by that is, be confident. Please follow "dealing with women, rule #1."

Rule #1, defined:

Don't sit and wonder what we want, expect, wish, dream, obsess over, or crave you to be.

Edward: I want to go watch her sleep. Bam! He's in her room, watching because he wants to be.

You: I wonder if she would get mad if she caught me in her room watching her. Would she think it was romantic? Or, would she think I was crazy? Umm...(figiting)...I don't want to give her the wrong impression, but I'd really like to try that. What if she thinks I'm weird? What if....

Ugh. Really? What if you just stop being a sissy la-la and show her your manly vampireness. Yes, I just said vampireness, shut up.

Be yourself. Be confident in who you really are. If we don't like it, find someone who does. She's out there, believe me.

2. What the hell does being a little "nuts" consist of?
Well, let me tell you. We don't mean we're looking for a psychiatrist match-maker. We aren't interested in getting ourselves hurt, physically or emotionally. If you're unsure if you're afraid of heights, you may want to find that out before you take us bungee jumping.

What I really mean by that is, please follow "dealing with women, rule #2."

Rule #2, defined:

Don't sit and wonder what we want, expect, wish, dream, obsess over, or crave you to be.

Edward: I have no problem taking this chick up a hundred foot tree, and calling her a spider-monkey (because that's who he is). Up he (we) go(es).

You: I wan'er find'n me mysterious and dangerous. Chicks dig that kinda thing. I'ma tak'er skydivin'. You then find yourself unable to jump from the plane, sitting in your own urine, wondering how you're going to explain this one when you finally land. Oh, and she did jump. Good luck with that, pal.

Be yourself. If we don't like it, find someone who does. She's out there, believe me.

Let's put it this way. It's all about inviting her into your world. Better to find out if she fits there than finding out later you're miserable being the "I-failed-at-trying-to-be-what-she-wanted-because-I-didn't-realize-it-really-wasn't-what-she-wanted" version of you. You didn't see Edward going around pretending he wasn't a vampire did you? No. He just tried to not kill her. Rock what you've got.

If you fear it, we smell it, and so does Edward.

Just sayin'.

It's Not Rocket Science...

2008-12-18T10:50:00.025-07:00

Michelle's "Top Ten Reasons Why Edward Cullen is Better Than a Human Guy (other than his obvious dazzle-inducing intensity and hypnotizing brilliance)."

10. Yes, women tend to like the "bad guy" type, but only to a certain point. Edward is smart enough not to be a jackass. He's not abusive or cruel, he just isn't a wuss either. He doesn't run around looking for a fight, but he can still kick your ass.

9. He's a little nuts. Admit it ladies, we're suckers for a guy who is a little more interesting than dinner and a movie. I'd love to climb (fly up) hundred foot trees on a Friday night, and being called "spider monkey" really does has an affectionate ring to it.

8. He can drive. I mean, really drive. I'm not much of a fancy car type (a car can't pull a horse trailer), but that little silver Volvo does it for me. Any guy (vampire) that can spin a 360 like that is more than okay in my book.

7. He knows how to feed a girl. I'm just sayin'. A good mushroom ravioli gets me every time. The little fact that he ignored the waitress with the cleavage spilling out of her shirt doesn't lose him any points either. If I point them out, fair game. Otherwise, I'm over here, pal.

6. The emotional eyes. I don't know many guys with such expressive sincerity. Feel it guys, we don't like dead eyes (no pun intended). We'll let the little fact that yours don't change color slide. Okay, I lied. We won't.

5. The whole "biting" thing. Seriously, what other long-term flirting strategy can you come up with that beats that? Yep. That's what I thought.

4. Personality. 'nuf said.

3. Vampire baseball. Sorry, guys. I don't see any of you cracking thunder-inducing bats. And to top it off, could he have picked a better sport? I think not!

2. He's hella confident. He doesn't sit around wondering whether or not he should float through your window at night. He just comes in, stands there quietly, and watches you sleep. Permission has it's place, but have the guts to handle your business. We don't want to always be one step ahead of you.

And, drum roll please...

The #1 reason why Edward Cullen is Better Than a Human Guy:

Can you say lullaby?

1. He's a vampire musician. Yes, how utterly romantic that he is capable of writing his own music -- for you. It has nothing to do with being the "rock star" type. We don't like groupies; I mean, who really wants a man who pockets all the change in town (if you catch my drift)? Music is the language of the heart, and I think I've lost mine.

Sigh...