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lapacifidoraEver have one of those days where you have a lovely surprise, but then you start thinking about it and by mid-day, you're overthinking it and, while still lovely, it's also making you a little sick to your stomach?
Welcome to my day.
There are few things capable of making my days really shine at the moment. I'm unemployed, I baked too many cookies over the holidays (Not normally a problem, but when I *see* a cookie, I want to eat that cookie. So, I usually do.), and I've been in a funk for the better part of the last three months because of the reasons why I quit my last job.
(Also, what genius decided that you can't receive unemployment benefits if you quit your job? Maybe you didn't want to. Maybe it was a hostile work environment, and you kind of had to. Ugh.)
Regardless, there's truly only one surefire way to guarantee me getting my ass out of bed at a reasonable hour at the moment: Breakfast. Or at least the promise of breakfast. Yes, I *am* that easy to manipulate.
However, I would have woken up hours earlier today had I known I what I was going to find when I checked Facebook for the first time today. What I found was that Hot Photographer had posted a story from The Onion to my page.
[Side note: Hot Photographer is a guy I went to college with, and he is, as you might gather from his name, a photographer who is hot. Don't judge me: My elementary school crush was Fish Boy because his father worked for a shipping company. In middle school, it was Short Actor because...well, do I need to explain that one? High school had a distinct lack of actual crushes, with one exception, which I will explain in a minute. College brought G.I. Sailor, then Dr. Creeper (so called because he was a creeper and his first name was Victor, as in Dr. Frankenstein), and finally Hot Photographer.
But TL;DR: I never call the guys I've been interested in by their names unless I feel it might go someplace because it's a way for me to keep from getting too invested in something that is probably going to go nowhere. For instance, in high school, I was into a friend of a friend. His name was Sean. I thought he was into me, but I totally misjudged his behavior and reactions, and it hurt quite a bit when I realized how badly I had misread the whole situation. But the point is, I called him by his real name because I would practice having conversations with him, and I didn't want to be in the habit of calling him 'Philosophy Dude' when I finally had the chance to talk to him.]
In any case, I gave up on the possibility of Hot Photographer being a potential relationship some time ago because we've "talked" more through Facebook and Twitter than we ever did when we worked or had classes together, he drinks more than I am comfortable with, and he has been a smoker off and on for years. (Also because the girls I knew he dated in college were the exact opposite of me in terms of tastes and interests.) That said, I still find him reasonably attractive, I enjoy it when he posts photos of himself at the beach, sans shirt, and he *is* smart and funny (drinking and smoking habits aside). In short, if I had to pick a guy to pay to pretend to be my boyfriend for a big event, Hot Photographer is the one I'd ask first.
But back to today: Hot Photog posted a story to my Facebook page. He didn't repost something and mention me on his own page. He didn't post it to the pages of several people. And it's not even a real article: It's the Onion. I mean, it's funny, especially as I love copy editing, and I've had the Oxford Comma argument with friends and family. My point is that this doesn't mean anything other than he saw it, and remembered I was a copy editor in college and shared it with me.
It was a pleasant surprise. And I was amused by it. And it was flattering, in a weird way. I guess I was hoping I was too old to stop having girly girl freak outs along the lines of "ERMAGERSH A BOY TALKED TO ME. SORT OF. A BOY SORT OF TALKED TO ME. WHY? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? GEEZ. WHAT DO I DO? DO I SAY SOMETHING BACK? WHAT DO I SAY? CAN I EVEN TALK? OH GOD. I CAN'T TALK!" I mean, those thoughts went through my head today when I saw his post and read the story, but it wasn't all screaming in my head. And I did come up with a fairly low-key, witty response.
It's one of those situations where I was pleasantly surprised, but then the annoying 13-year-old I've gagged and stuffed in the back of my head wormed free enough to spend most of the day wondering, *loudly*, if Hot Photog was trying to get my attention or if it meant nothing, and if it meant nothing, why had he even bothered?! (Nothing like a whiny adolescent in your head nattering on about a boy.)
Anyways. The gist of this is that a cute guy paid attention to me, and that is so unusual that it basically turned my head for the better part of the day. Ergo, i'm a Looney McCrazyPants. Ta-da!
Welcome to my day.
There are few things capable of making my days really shine at the moment. I'm unemployed, I baked too many cookies over the holidays (Not normally a problem, but when I *see* a cookie, I want to eat that cookie. So, I usually do.), and I've been in a funk for the better part of the last three months because of the reasons why I quit my last job.
(Also, what genius decided that you can't receive unemployment benefits if you quit your job? Maybe you didn't want to. Maybe it was a hostile work environment, and you kind of had to. Ugh.)
Regardless, there's truly only one surefire way to guarantee me getting my ass out of bed at a reasonable hour at the moment: Breakfast. Or at least the promise of breakfast. Yes, I *am* that easy to manipulate.
However, I would have woken up hours earlier today had I known I what I was going to find when I checked Facebook for the first time today. What I found was that Hot Photographer had posted a story from The Onion to my page.
[Side note: Hot Photographer is a guy I went to college with, and he is, as you might gather from his name, a photographer who is hot. Don't judge me: My elementary school crush was Fish Boy because his father worked for a shipping company. In middle school, it was Short Actor because...well, do I need to explain that one? High school had a distinct lack of actual crushes, with one exception, which I will explain in a minute. College brought G.I. Sailor, then Dr. Creeper (so called because he was a creeper and his first name was Victor, as in Dr. Frankenstein), and finally Hot Photographer.
But TL;DR: I never call the guys I've been interested in by their names unless I feel it might go someplace because it's a way for me to keep from getting too invested in something that is probably going to go nowhere. For instance, in high school, I was into a friend of a friend. His name was Sean. I thought he was into me, but I totally misjudged his behavior and reactions, and it hurt quite a bit when I realized how badly I had misread the whole situation. But the point is, I called him by his real name because I would practice having conversations with him, and I didn't want to be in the habit of calling him 'Philosophy Dude' when I finally had the chance to talk to him.]
In any case, I gave up on the possibility of Hot Photographer being a potential relationship some time ago because we've "talked" more through Facebook and Twitter than we ever did when we worked or had classes together, he drinks more than I am comfortable with, and he has been a smoker off and on for years. (Also because the girls I knew he dated in college were the exact opposite of me in terms of tastes and interests.) That said, I still find him reasonably attractive, I enjoy it when he posts photos of himself at the beach, sans shirt, and he *is* smart and funny (drinking and smoking habits aside). In short, if I had to pick a guy to pay to pretend to be my boyfriend for a big event, Hot Photographer is the one I'd ask first.
But back to today: Hot Photog posted a story to my Facebook page. He didn't repost something and mention me on his own page. He didn't post it to the pages of several people. And it's not even a real article: It's the Onion. I mean, it's funny, especially as I love copy editing, and I've had the Oxford Comma argument with friends and family. My point is that this doesn't mean anything other than he saw it, and remembered I was a copy editor in college and shared it with me.
It was a pleasant surprise. And I was amused by it. And it was flattering, in a weird way. I guess I was hoping I was too old to stop having girly girl freak outs along the lines of "ERMAGERSH A BOY TALKED TO ME. SORT OF. A BOY SORT OF TALKED TO ME. WHY? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? GEEZ. WHAT DO I DO? DO I SAY SOMETHING BACK? WHAT DO I SAY? CAN I EVEN TALK? OH GOD. I CAN'T TALK!" I mean, those thoughts went through my head today when I saw his post and read the story, but it wasn't all screaming in my head. And I did come up with a fairly low-key, witty response.
It's one of those situations where I was pleasantly surprised, but then the annoying 13-year-old I've gagged and stuffed in the back of my head wormed free enough to spend most of the day wondering, *loudly*, if Hot Photog was trying to get my attention or if it meant nothing, and if it meant nothing, why had he even bothered?! (Nothing like a whiny adolescent in your head nattering on about a boy.)
Anyways. The gist of this is that a cute guy paid attention to me, and that is so unusual that it basically turned my head for the better part of the day. Ergo, i'm a Looney McCrazyPants. Ta-da!
