In a Relationship

So, I figured out why I'm not married. It seems I've been doing everything wrong all these years.  

Going to singles conferences to meet men? Nooo. Drying my hair? Weird. Wearing clothes? Absolutely NOT.

Apparently, the key to engagement is to be sopping-wet, in a Speedo swimsuit and swim cap, in Asian-swimmer-infested waters.

Tonight I went swimming at the gym. It's always a treat, swimming at the gym in the same city you teach in... you never know who you're going to run into (students) while wearing a swimsuit (awkward). It's also usually pretty crowded, mostly with a lot of little old Asian men and women getting some strokes in (some.) 

So, tonight, after doing laps for about 35 minutes and going from being alone in the lane to squeezing around four other lane-sharers, I was done. My last few laps, though, I'd noticed a man of indiscernible age in the neighboring jacuzzi staring at me. Juuust standing there in the water against the edge, facing the pool, staring straight at me. No expression. Just staring. I'd come up for air before turning at the end of the lane, and there he'd be... silver swim cap, orange goggles perched on forehead waiting to be lowered, arms rigid on the cement, could've been anywhere between 25 and 65... staring straight at me.

I thought maybe it was my superior swimmin' skills that were capturing his attention. Or maybe I had raccoon eyes when I took off my goggles. Or maybe, he was attempting to give me the stink-eye, because he was waiting for that particular lane and I'd been swimming for a while.

So I got out.

Now, normally when I get out, I wait until every single person in the pool area is either under water, mid-stroke in the opposite direction, or toweling their faces off before I scuttle out of the water and into my waiting towel. I'm just not... how shall we say it, ATTRACTIVE when I'm sopping wet in a Target-brand generic Speedo swimsuit, I especially stand out against my slight Asian co-swimmers (think booty), and I don't feel innocent bystanders need to be repulsed by the sight of me in all my glory.

Tonight, though, I just plain didn't care. I'd been swimming hard, I was feeling athletic, and if anyone wanted to look, well then, let them look. 

Well, look HE did.

I walked up and out of the pool and bent down slightly to place my cap and goggles by my flipflops, and as I turned to walk parallel to the jacuzzi stairs, to get in and soothe my muscles in a foamy chlorine cesspool, I noticed Silver Cap was still staring. Only now, his gaze was directly eye-level, staring straight at my Gut-Butt. (neither my gut nor my butt, because he was looking at the side of me, so therefore at my Gut-Butt). I kept walking, not even trying to suck it in, and he kept staring, his head following his eyes following my body. I was glaring at HIS head, just WAITING for him to lift his gaze so I could say "What?? (insert snappy comment here)" at the same time gesturing with my hands towards my gut-butt area, but he didn't... just moved his head in perfect synchronization with my progress towards the far end of the stairs. I caught the eye of the girl in the water behind him, who was watching his leering head-swivel, and gave her an incredulous look-- she shook her head in disgust and wonderment and returned the look, and I mouthed "creepy!"

As I eventually began my descent into the safety of the water, his tractor-beam gaze finally broke and I thought I was safe. Nope. Not for long. So I settled back against the opposite wall, perched on my heels so I could keep my head above the eight inches of foam, and commenced to glare around the room. My eyes were stinging from the chlorine fumes, and out of the corner of my right eye I could see him sitting down and placing his gaze back on me, but I was having none of it. And seriously starting to wonder, just how hideous DO I look? I know I'm not pretty when wet, but come on! Give the white girl a break. So I glared, so that I would look even prettier with a sneer on my face, and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone. 

After an eternity of this (four minutes or so), Creepy Silver Cap still hadn't gotten out of the cesspool to take his laps or whatever his goal was, and I really wanted to get out and leave, but there was no way I was giving him the gift of a full-on butt shot from behind, he hadn't earned THAT. So I kept perching and continued to sneer/glare at nothing. My eyes were really hurting by this time.

Suddenly, though, my toxic-fume-clouded peripheral vision detected movement. A floating silver-topped head was advancing towards me...  slowly... and crap, absolutely surely, directly towards me. I struggled to make sense of it... shouldn't it veer off sharply to the right, rise out of the water, and start ascending the stairs? But no-- beeline. Right to me. I was hoping the female to my right would intercept or block the attack, and I avoided shifting my gaze until the last possible moment, but the head moved until it was right in front of me and I couldn't feign obliviousness any longer.

"Want to get married?" a leering toothy grin asked me as I turned towards the Creeper.

What???

--no-- wait--

WHAAATTT?!!!?

Pause. Little bit in shock.

"Mmm, no thanks." the poor defenseless girl in the generic Speedo replied, not without conviction.

"How about a date?"

Pursed lips. Disbelieving, blinking eyes.

"Uh, no. I'm in a relationship." (it's NEVER wrong to lie, in these kinds of situations.)

"(Jumbled words, but sounded like a question)?"

"-I'm sorry, what?"

"But if you weren't? How about then?" 

Mustering all control. Making every effort to now hold his gaze, I responded through gritted teeth,

"I'm IN a RELATIONSHIP."

He finally retreated, still smiling, back to his side of the jacuzzi. 

"But thanks, though." Gotta still be courteous, after all. (even if slightly sarcastic)

Turned to look at the girl/lady (also of indiscernible age) next to me, with a "Really??" look, and she mouthed, "Weird." (Got quite a bit of lip-reading practice that day, which is a plus in my book because you never know when you're going to need to lip-read to save your life).

Sat/perched there a few more minutes, incredulous, wondering what had just happened. And why it couldn't have been Robert Pattinson, Simon Baker, Daniel Craig, Seth Meyers, or any of most of the male cast of Friday Night Lights sitting across from me in that silver swim cap. I'm not picky. 

Creeper finally got out of the water, and when he did, he tripped a little bit. HAH. Then, upon MY exit, Pot-Bellied Italian Man did a double-take whiplash head-swing thing to be able to watch me both coming and going, as I sashayed past him with my towel loosely slung around my hips. People. COME - ON. I checked the mirror when I got back in the locker room, figuring a miracle must have happened, but no-- I DID look my standard wet-dog-hideous. Granted, my eyes had stayed somewhat dry so my work makeup hadn't transformed into black eyes, but still... what is the deal? Maybe chlorine clouds both vision AND judgment. Or maybe... I really have been getting it wrong all these years. I mean, man. I could've gotten ENGAGED tonight, y'all.

So... next mid-singles conference? It's going to be a Speedo and swim cap all the way, baby. 

Pepe Le Disgusting. Or, "How to Bag a Dead Skunk".

So, life being what it is, every now and then you're on your way out to the pool for a leisurely sunbathe, and a visiting friend tells you there's a dead rotting skunk on the side driveway. Par for the course.

And disgusting. 

But not something to be necessarily UNhappy about. A bickering pair of skunks moved into the crawl space under the house a couple of years ago, and I've been wishing I had the guts (and enough tomato juice on hand to fill a bath) to run them over with my car or death-clonk them with bricks, ever since. I like a skunk as much as the next person-- cute and furry and all-- but when they give the yard a daily spray for kicks or hang out by your car in the morning when you're late for work--? Not cool, skunks.

So-- dead skunk in the driveway? Win-win!  For one: That solved the lingering 24- hour skunk-stench mystery, and two: one skunk down, one to go.  Cause of death unknown, by the way... Coyote attack? Raccoon bar-type brawl? Tripped while being possum-chased? Gnawed its own leg off after a snake bite, trying to remove the poison? Because all of these Animal Friends live under or near the house as well, and an eventual territory war is inevitable. I myself engage in confrontation on the back porch now and then, usually in the form of hissing. The raccoon just looks at me like I'm stupid. (until I chuck a basketball at him, THEN he saunters off.)

simulation of my raccoon-hissing confrontation. pretty much the same form, just a different animal

Despite my cheers, though, there was the problem of actually REMOVING the dead skunk. This is the portion of this post that I like to call "Who Needs a Man?" or, more appropriately, "Forced to Become a She-Man". I'm pretty capable, but I don't always like that I have to be... whatever happened to getting to play the squealing female?

Anyhoo, I quickly figured out the best course of action and it included arming myself with disposable latex gloves and my trusty Karate-Kid bandana. A regular bandana might guard you from ordinary skunk offensive, but combined with decaying flesh, the Mr. Miyagi toss-off is key. 

Check out the harshly dramatic crime-scene lighting. Nature just knew. 

Some people might find dapple-lighting soothing, but after seeing 

an innocent skunk mauled (and overrun by flesh-eating insects), all of that changes.

I figured a metal snow shovel would be the best tool for scooping up the 

corpse in early stages of rigor mortis, and I wasn't wrong. 

Double-wrapped it in a couple of Heftys though, of course.

Had a little trouble scooping at first, it just kept sliding along the 

pavement (unlike snow). Plus I kinda wanted to puke, just a little bit. 

From laughing, that is. (I'm not THAT squeamish)

Finally, with the help of a big monkey wrench (kept outside in case I ever 

have the guts to chuck it at the local raccoon instead of a neon 

basketball), I was able to pooper-scooper it up onto the shovel.

From there, just pulled the Heftys back around the skunk, dropped the bundle into a 

third bag to create a Triple-Stink-Barrier, and voila! Pepe Le Trash.

Three walls of plastic aren't quite enough, though. Still stinky. 

If it didn't stink so much, I would have preferred to impale the body on a post in the front yard, as a sort of warning to the other skunks. Fortunately, though, olfactories force my humanity.

Bring it, skunks.

dude. Bad news.

VOLKSLAUF 2009 HAS BEEN CANCELED. 

For some silly reason, oh like the jail property it's on being expanded for more jail use (I have no problem with running near convicts, I have a few pointed questions I'd like the opportunity to ask them anyway), there will be no Volkslauf this coming October. DEVASTATING. What in the world do I have to look forward to (in October), now??

What is the Volkslauf and why do I love it so? Click here for my post about it, from last October...

Maybe I'll have to nix India. Volkslauf could use some donations too, so I should probably turn my attention there, instead.

HURRY UP 2010!  

Speaking of... in 2010, can we please stop saying "two-thousand-(whatever)"? and start saying "twenty-(10)"? That extra syllable of 'two-thousand' really tires me out. Wastes the energy I need for hurling myself over obstacles in a Volkslauf.

Molokai didn't need me,

soo.... I'm going to India this summer, to be a leprosy volunteer.

That's right. Leprosy.

To read all about it, CLICK HERE! You will be redirected to my new blog GO and DO, especially designed and designated for this venture and adventure!

And keep visiting, too--I'm going to have soooo much to blog about once I'm there!

(*not to worry, the totally superfluous doezieland isn't going anywhere; but sometimes, I like to be a bit more serious, and that simply has no place in the 2nd Happiest Place on Earth)