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Life According to Laurie


Are You Past Your Expiration Date?

Tue, 09 Aug 2011 16:55:00 GMT

Are You Past Your Expiration Date?   Do we have an expiration date? Is age truly just a number now? Are we only as desirable as the number of healthy eggs we can produce, my chickadee?   When I was very small, my great great grandmother used to espouse this theory about women: They should be shot when they're 30. Being that longevity runs in my family and my great great grandmother was still alive when I was small, she dodged that bullet.   As time has gone by, we all have. Thirty is considered vibrant and youthful now. Is fifty the new thirty? Maybe in looks or vibrancy, but there's more to it. I get many calls about "the younger dude," and it's a totally different dynamic than it used to be. Let's look at a few of them.   One of the first things I usually get asked is if the dude minds that she's older, and she's thinking in terms of looks. Although every situation is different, the answer is usually a resounding no. He's with you, and he is because he thinks you're cool and he loves your look. You're far more worried about that than he is.   But there are a couple things that can and frequently do come up.   First is the problem that no matter how fabulously you get along, no matter how great the connection, a 20-year-old is a 20-year-old, a 30-year old is a 30-year-old, no matter how mature for their age. They think like one, they act like one, they have the life experience to draw on of one. You want them to grow up? So do dude's parents. And they'd also like him to move out on his own.   Do you care? Nooooo. You've never felt like this before. After all this time, you've discovered someone who truly loves you and appreciates you for who you are, and he tells you this all the time. Now of course being a bit older, by five, ten, even twenty years, with five, ten or even twenty years more of life's bumps and bruises behind you, you are not so quick to trust.   Eventually, however, you let go, little by little, day by day, enchanted by his boyish charms and his good taste, unmatched by others. He's spent all this time pursuing you relentlessly, and finally, you allow yourself to conjure up in your mind that life of happily ever after, with the castle on the hill overlooking endless beaches.   But -- and there's a big one, and we're not talking about the one you're sitting on -- he is envisioning the same castle on the hill -- as a vacation, with you handcuffed to the bed and engaging in various forms of gymnastics. After all, isn't that one of a younger dude's biggest fantasies, the sexy older woman teaching him everything she knows? Nobody wants to be in a situation where they're a nice vacation, but dude wouldn't want to live there.   One of my clients prefers younger men, and has been ultimately rejected by three of them. So what is my precious dudette doing wrong? Repeating the same scenario. She doesn't like anyone her age or older, and always ends up going for the younger men that come along. They pursue her like a teenager searching for their lost I-phone. They have to have her. She is the cherry on their sundae, she's the coolest status message on their Facebook.   And all three times, all three guys, cooled off for the same reason. They'd been thinking -- once they let the big brain work again -- and they discovered that they just might be wanting some progeny someday, a little baby dude with the same funny shaped head and big ears as them. And they're very very sorry, but they have to admit that our heroine's eggs aren't so fresh anymore. They love her to death, but they'll be moving on now to find someone with an expiration date a little further out, just like the milk in the dairy department that we shove to the back.   Solutions? As I said earlier, stop repeating the same scenarios with the same type people. After a while, getting slapped in the face doesn't feel so good, and you might want to make some changes.   Am I saying you can't date the younger dude? Absolutely not. In fact, my brother had a successful marriage to someone[...]

When Yes Means No And No Means Yes

Sat, 19 Mar 2011 18:46:00 GMT

When Yes Means No And No Means Yes   Oh, poor poor Dude of Wonder.  You've upset her, and you don't know what to do -- you don't even understand what you did in the first place.   You tried to make it better, but she told you to go away.  So you did exactly as she said, and you can't understand why she got madder.   Psst, Dude, want to know a secret?  In this particular case, no meant yes. When she told you to go away, you weren't supposed to.  You were supposed to be so overcome with the thought that you could have possibly upset this delicate little flower, you just couldn't live with yourself. You must chase her down, pull her back in, and explain how you were hit by the stupid stick and apologize, complete with an explanation of your transgression and blood promise that you will never do it again.    But wait, how do you do that when you really don't have a clue what you did wrong?  Awww, my poor poor dudling.  Remember that old rule you were taught when you were little -- if you catch fire, stop, drop and roll?  Dude, something's definitely on fire, and here's the new rule:  stop, think, and listen.   What was happening just before the mood changed drastically?  Taking into consideration that you're a dude and may have been totally unaware for a bit that she was upset, you may have to think back a bit, too.  Undoubtedly, she will have said something to give you a hint.  You may have to weed through the statements such as, "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," but there will be some little nugget in there.  Did you forget a date, mention an ex, tease her about the fact that her feet reminded you of Big Foot?   A strong warning I can give you is do NOT use humor at this point when she's upset.  That corny joke that would normally make her giggle is now going to make her even madder, or if she's crying, she'll cry harder.  It will feel to her that you are trivializing her feelings, which will only dig you deeper in that dude hole you've dug yourself into.    If you still can't figure out what you've done, apologize for everything you've ever said and done, including breathing, or you'll be unable to move on to the next step -- which is overcompensation!  If she's that upset, a simple, "Sorry I was an idiot," isn't going to do it.  You will be suffering as long as she is, so it's time for flowers or special surprises and extra everything.  Think of it as extra whipped cream with a cherry on top.   Your love wants to feel just that, loved and cherished.   How to tell when no really means no and you're fighting a losing battle, at least for the moment?  That's an easy one.    First, if it's a matter of personal space, aka any sort of sexual contact, if she says no, that means N-O.  Back off, dude.   If it's a matter of you've made her so mad that she isn't ready for you to even breathe the same air as her, you'll know it.  If she starts screaming if you try to get within ten feet of her, listen.  This is no time to stop, think and listen.  It's time to run and give her some space.  If you try to push yourself on her at this point, Mt. Vesuvius will erupt, and I can guarantee you, you will never forget getting burned by that hot lava.    I think the most important thing to remember is every couple encounters bumps in the road and has disagreements and fights.  In the long run, if you're willing to work through them, you will have a stronger, closer relationship.    Only the test of fire makes the finest steel.[...]

Half Baked

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:41:00 GMT

  I am so in the mood for cake!  I've been thinking about it for quite a while -- obsessing on it, I guess you could say.    I want a delicious, light chocolate angel food cake with really dark heavy chocolate frosting, lots of it.  I've been dreaming of it, and I've come to the conclusion that I just can't be happy, my life won't be complete without this cake.    Finally, opportunity knocks! I have found all the ingredients for my perfect cake.  Well, actually, I couldn't find the high quality ingredients that I'd really prefer and deserve, but, hey, I've got the basics and I'm willing to settle. I won't think about that right now. Somehow, I'll make it work.    I quickly jump into the kitchen and throw my cake together as fast as I can and pop it into the oven, which somehow is set too high.  But I'll cool it down later.  It doesn't matter.  It will be okay.  Maybe it will bake faster that way.   Oh, I'm going to be in heaven in no time at all! I can't stop staring at the oven, tapping my foot impatiently. It looks so good and I want it so badly, I just can't wait to take a big bite of it and have exactly what I've been dreaming of!  It's going to be so perfect.  Everything will be wonderful!   In fact, I'm so impatient, I just can't wait!  There is no way that I can wait a moment longer for this delicious cake!  Knowing that this cake is right there before me in the oven, just out of my grasp, I don't understand why I should have to wait.     THAT'S IT!  I WANT IT NOW AND I'M NOT GOING TO WAIT!   My impatient fingers reach into the oven and grab it.  Oh, it's so hot, and my fingers are burned.  Why didn't I at least wait to put on an oven mitt?  Okay, well, I'm burned now, but I can overlook that in order to get to this cake . . .   Except the cake looks kind of funny.  It hasn't cooked evenly due to the oven temperature, and it's flattening out since I pulled it out too soon in my haste to have what I wanted.   It doesn't taste so good either.  The icing on the cake?  Why did I insist on an over-powering heavy chocolate frosting on such a light angel food cake.  It doesn't fit or go together at all!      Why wasn't I more careful to get good ingredients, wait for my cake to be done before I just threw myself into it, and pick a frosting recipe that didn't go with my cake at all?  My cake happiness has been ruined!   In my impatience to have everything my way and in my timing, I ruined the entire experience.  I rushed ahead, burned myself and ruined the cake.  It did not bring me happiness; in fact, it brought me pain and disappointment.   Have you ever had a half baked relationship?    Have you ever wanted a relationship so badly that you didn't care who it was with, thrown yourself into it too fast, or been unwilling to let it develop in your haste to have it right now?    Just like the cake, relationships need the right ingredients, time to bake, or develop, and time to figure out whether you like each other well enough to decide whether to love each other.   Just like the cake, if you're so eager to have a relationship that you lose sight of the goal to have a healthy, happy one with the right person, you can end up with something akin to the ruined cake -- something that has fallen flat, burned you, and left you unfulfilled and disappointed.   Happy baking![...]

Drowning in Reality

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 16:39:00 GMT

  I am, truly, drowning in reality.  I have this terrible addiction:   I am a reality show addict.   I do have certain standards and have avoided some of the worst of the worst train wrecks, and I have a strict rule that the third time a celebrity goes on a show to find "true love," it won't be with me -- at least in the audience. Oh, and that's True Love, aka $$$$$$$.   I think my pure fascination with reality shows stems from  the fact that people aren't playing a part, they are being themselves.  Yes, I'm aware that reality shows aren't all "real," but as a psychic, I like studying people's reactions, are they true to themselves, are they hiding, are they phony, what is their agenda.    So here's my take on my favs:   1.  The Bachelor/Bachelorette shows.    Let's face it, we get behind these people.  We have our favorites.  We boo and hiss for the bad guy, and celebrate the good.   Take last season.  Who wasn't screaming, "Are you kidding me?" everytime Jillian gave Wes a rose, or had empathy for the fact that Ed, forevermore, will have the rep as the guy who couldn't, ummm, well, rise to the occasion?   But my theory on these shows is that it's a whole lotta TV exposure and competition, and who can resist that?  You could throw on somebody's 80-year-old grandmother with a walker and hearing aid, and under those circumstances, there would be 20-year-old hunks aplenty competing for her affections.   And by the way, that Jillian was so impossibly tiny, one helium balloon could carry her away.  I saw her in a pic with a friend of a friend of mine.  No, it wasn't my uncle's sister's cousin's next door neighbor's father's receptionist.  I actually know the size of this person -- and she's small, tiny, in fact, less than average height and in great shape.  Jillian made her look BIG, which frankly, should be against the law.   But hmmm, this brings us to --   2.  More To Love.  O-h M-y G-o-d!  These women are all beautiful women, not an ugly one in the bunch, and their self esteen is in the dumper!  Luke, well, he's kind of a dufus-turned-charmer-turned-hero because he's accepting these successful, smart, beautiful women with a little -- yes, a little -- extra poundage?  I mean, come on, world, something is so wrong here and he's one lucky dude.  (By the way, they can lose weight; Luke will still be a dufus).   3.  So You Think You Can Dance - Love it, but don't love the judges directing everyone who to vote for and making it clear if you don't agree, you have no taste. The best dancer never wins.  I'm still mourning the loss of Travis in Season Two.       4.  The Rachel Zoe Project -- What?  Yes, I know you've probably never heard of it, but it's the best unintentional comedy I've ever tuned into.   It's about a Valley Girl  whose very existence is totally tied into the biz of dressing celebrities, which, in her mind, is so important, the weight of the world rests on her shoulders. She often repeats in a strict monotone, "I'm coming undone," and you wait for something, anything concerning the said undoing, but it never happens. She's nothing but a tease.   Last week's episode saw her warning her assistant Brad to get the Imodium -- yes, Imodium -- before she gives him the news he gets to accompany a celebrity to some awards show.  Isn't he potty trained?   In one episode, a celebrity was trying to calm Rachel down and make her realize that the world wouldn't stop revolving on its axis even if the impending tragedy of her outfit having some tiny problem that nobody in the world could notice did exist. She proclaimed the celebrity a "genius" for doing this.   &nb[...]

Oh! The Men You Will Meet -- With Sincerest Apologies To Dr. Seuss

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 17:13:00 GMT

Repost from 2007 per request. With sincere apologies to Dr. Seuss and his book "Oh! The Places You'll Go": OH!  THE MEN YOU WILL MEET! Congratulations!Today is your day.You're off to meet men!Perhaps a roll in the hay!You have brains in your headYou have feet in your shoesYou can steer yourself towardany man that you choose.You're on your own.  And you know what you know.And YOU are the one who'll decide who will come and go.You'll look up and down men.  Look 'em over with care.About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,why do you insist on picking that no-good cheat? And the good, you may not find anyyou'll want to go with.In that case, of course,you'll discover Prince Charming a myth.So keep yourself open and out therebecause out there things can happenand frequently doto people as brainyand footsy as you.And if bad things start to happen,don't worry.  Don't stew.If you just keep moving and keep your head upgood things will start happening too.OH!THE NEW MAN YOU HAVE MET!You'll be on your way up!You'll be seeing great sights!You make love all dayand never have fights!He won't lag behind, because he'll have the speed.He'll give you attention, and all that you need.Whatever he does, he's the best of the best.The man of your dreams, he will top all the rest.Except the day that he stops, without a wordAnd you're left wondering, isn't this absurd?I'm sorry to say sobut, sadly, it's truethat jerks really can happento nice girls like you.You can get all hung upand left in the lurchwondering how this did happen after all your research.You'll come down from the lurchwith an unpleasant bump.And the chances are, then,that you'll be in a slump.And when you're in a slump,you're not in for much fun.Un-slumping yourselfis not easily done.You'll meet a new man, maybe Tom, Dick or Mark But you'll be so confused, cause your heart is still dark.Do you dare to go out?  Should you stay in?How much can you lose? How much can you win?And IF you go out, this time will it be right?Will he be the one, or maybe, not quite?Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,for someone who's been burned  to make up her mind.You can get so confusedthat your heart will start to racedown a long dark road at a break-necky paceit seems to drag on forever that weirdish wild space,headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.The Waiting Place......for people just waiting.Waiting for a man to come or to goor the e-mail to come, or the tears not to flowor the phone to ring, or just an answer to knowor waiting around for a Yes or a Nolike waiting for your hair to grow.Everyone is just waiting.Waiting for morning, in the middle of the night or waiting in what feels bitter cold, oh, you're a sightor waiting around, this just doesn't feel right.or waiting, perhaps, for a guy named Jakeor a pot to boil, or a better breakor a string of pearls, or a pair of pantsor a wish to come true, just one more chance.Everyone is just waiting.NO!That's not for you!Somehow you'll escapeall that waiting and staying.You'll find the bright placeswhere your long lost friends are playing.With your shoes flip-flapping,once more you'll ride high!Ready for anything under the sky.Ready because you're open to a new guy!Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!There are points to be scored.  There are games to be won.And the magical things you will feel when you do get that call will make you the winning-est winner of all.My, you'll be popular, as popular as can be,everyone will want you, all the men that you see.  Except when they don't.Because, sometimes, they won't.I'm afraid that some timesyou'll play lonely games too.Games you can't win'cause you'll play against you.All Alone[...]

Throw Your Hands Up And Scream - It's Mercury Retrograde!

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 15:09:00 GMT



Okay, Chicken Little, it's just an itty bitty acorn in the speed bumps of life.
I have had two calls in as many days from people scared to death because of Mercury Retrograde and all its accompanying evils.
Let me first say, I am NOT an astrologer, and will leave astrology to the astrologers.  I have a great deal of respect for them.
HOWEVER, the world is not ending, your relationship isn't over (unless it otherwise was), your house will not fall down around your ears, and you can, after carefully reading a contract, sign it.  Life does not stop or go on hiatus, and neither can you.
Guess what?  Last month, my computer broke.  Two weeks ago, my washer broke.  What should we blame that on? 
To me, Mercury Retrograde can cause some frustrations, some confusions, and some change.  CHANGE!  AHHHH!  Scary stuff there, huh?
It's about review and revising things in our life.  But how about this:  bad stuff can turn to good stuff.  That's right, the bad communication you've been having with Mr. Dude can improve.  Or you can decide you're tired of his antics and you're ready to move on. Change isn't necessarily bad, it's just DIFFERENT!  
Different can be a wonderous thing. It can open new doors, bring on improvement.  Why sit whimpering in the corner with a jacked up attitude, fearful of your own shadow?
So you big bully, Mercury Retrograde, you don't scare me one bit.  Bring it on, baby!
I'll let you know how it goes.  If you don't hear from me, send in a search party!  I'll be the girl under the table waving the white flag.

He's Not Radio Shack

Fri, 04 Sep 2009 14:41:00 GMT

Did you ever feel your relationship was the polar opposite of the Radio Shack commercial? You've got questions, but he doesn't have answers.   Do you want to know what your dude is thinking, feeling, wanting (ooooh, here's my cue for a subliminal message - "Call me!")?  Are you so frustrated you have decided to have a discussion with him about it, tonight even?   Tread lightly, and whatever you do, don't break that news of the upcoming demise of the evening ahead of time.  If you clue him in to the fact that you want to play a rousing game of Let's Talk Emotions, he's going to come down with a sudden case of the Anythingbutthat-itis.   Rule No. 1 -- Never, ever, tell a guy you need to "talk."  He's smart enough to know it's a no-win situation unless he plans to imitate a bobble-head.   I'll use this analogy:  If I want to give Lilith, Dog of Wonder, a bath to maintain her sparkling whiteness, I don't say, "Yo, let's do a bath," because she'll suddenly find something really important to do under, say, the table or the bed, anywhere out of reach.    Now your dude may not run if you mention something involving nakedness and nice silky suds, but Lili is to baths as a man is to talking emotions -- avoidance at all cost.   Instead, lure him in, for example, with a juicy steak --hey, that works with Lili, too. What I mean is, plan something pleasurable, welcome him in, and then, my fiendish one, you close the door.    Don't expect miracles.  Mr. Strong and Silent is NOT going to suddenly start crooning "When A Man Loves A Woman."    Decide what vital info you need ahead of time.  Don't try to cover too much ground at once. Take baby steps, get in and out of the convo, and move on to the as-promised pleasurable part of the evening or he'll think it's a trap.    Lastly, above all, do NOT ask him what his intentions are. You will be extremely disappointed.   Intentions?  His intentions are to watch the game, eat the steak, play kissy-face or other enjoyable pursuits.    Honestly, did you think he had a road map for your relationship?  You know dudes don't ask for directions. They just drive down the road trying to have a good time and see where it takes them.   Come to think of it, that's not a bad plan.  You might want to borrow it.[...]

The Ostrich Dude

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 16:48:00 GMT

We've all known an Ostrich Dude at some point in our lives, been involved with one or are involved with one.
Here's the Ostrich Dude's MO:  Life is going along swimmingly, when suddenly, a problem crops up, a difference of opinion, anything unsettling, that he has to man up to -- or dude up to, if you prefer.
So, does Ostrich Dude talk about the problem and solve it with you in nanoseconds?  Nooooooooo.  Instead, Ostrich Dude's fear reflex kicks in, he starts runnning in circles on those silly stick legs and buries his head in the sand.
Apparently, they do manage to have an underground network of pizza and beer deliveries because they can stay down there for long periods of time.  (Hey, I want some pizza and beer! Where's our network?  Phooey. We'd probably send salads and sparkling water.)
They are also armed with some kind of special ostrich sensor which sounds an alarm  when the statute of limitations on their transgression is up and it's safe to pull their head out and glance around innocently.
By this time, he feels you will be so distraught at his absence you won't care what he did, or, alternatively, will have totally forgotten about what he did -- proving ostrichs have no familiarity with the female psyche whatsoever, which is more akin to the elephant who never forgets.
Many times, I've seen the Ostrich Dude take flight merely because he didn't want to disappoint you.  Say you have a movie date and he finds he cannot attend.  Instead of picking up the phone and sadly stating the facts, he fears having to undergo the excruciating sound of disappointment in your voice, so instead, he flees -- making your disappointment meter go into the red zone.  
Ostrich dude is a problem avoider, plain and simple, and ends up causing far more problems than necessary, and far more problems than he's worth. 
So frankly, my dear, never stand on the sidelines feeling jilted and not good enough for an Ostrich Dude.  Truth is, there is so much better out there, and you're far too good for an ostrich. 

Babies in College?

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 18:04:00 GMT


I didn't know they let babies into college.  But today, just this morning, my baby starts her first college classes.
How can it be?  She's just a little girl.  This is the same little baby I held as she took her first breaths in this world, the tiny trusting face that looked up at mine from her crib, the being whose very existence depended on me way back 18 years ago. 
Now she's all grown up and going off to college, where she has to do it all by herself, without me holding her hand and guiding her path. 
I don't know where the time went, but I wish I could do it all over again.  And I know exactly what I'd do differently, too.
I would leap out of bed at her first cry, instead of dawdling a bit to see if she'd go back to sleep.  I wouldn't be too tired to explain "why" to inquisitive minds, and I'd be eager to answer, when, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a small voice ask, "Do turtles have teeth?"  I would be more interested in playing and hearing her describe the wonders of her world than worrying about dull grown up things.  If I could do it all again, I would savor every moment.
To her credit, she is one strong kid, and very indulgent of her mother and her failings, since she turned out just perfect, all on her own. 
She's always gotten good grades and stayed out of trouble.  Because of me or fear of me?  Nope.  The reason is even better.  She's walked the right path simply because this is what she feels is right.
What more could a mother ask for? Just one thing -- MORE.  Just another moment, another day, another year, enough to last another lifetime.
As she takes the reins of her own life, I wish her the same thing -- more.  I wish all her dreams come true, and more, going beyond her wildest expectations; I wish her happiness, and more, beyond all limitations; and I wish her a lifetime of love, and more, beyond all bounds.
So here's to you, Katie -- to infinity and beyond, and even more.

The Manpology

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 15:13:00 GMT

  "It's Too Late to Apologize, It's Too Late!"**  Sorry, I've got that song running through my head.   One of the frequent questions I get from the female of the species is, "Doesn't he realize what he did!!!!!"   So I take a look and find, yep, Mr. Dude-Gone-Wrong indeed does know that he made a boo-boo of monumentous proportions, that he stepped in a pile so large he almost drown in it. Not only that, but he fully intends to make it better.   So here you sit, waiting for him to come crawling back on his belly like the snake he is, acknowledging his culpability and abject sorrow -- waiting, waiting, till you need a visit to the emergency room for stitches from biting your tongue.   Finally, Mr. Romance (aka Mr. Is-The-Coast-Clear?) comes forth, bearing gifts yet.  He says, "Hello, Darling.  My, you're looking beautiful today!  I brought you these roses which pale next to your beauty!" (Yes, it's corny, but under circumstances as drastic as these, one can never overdo!)   Expecting you to swoon, flutter your eyelashes and beam at him in appreciation for his romantic gesture, instead, your face turns as red as the roses the dolt is holding, you make a gutteral sound as if he had pierced your heart with the thorns, and your eyes bulge at him as if he was strangling you.  He briefly considers calling 911 to report your seizure, until he realizes, to his horror, that this most unattractive display is directed at him!   You, my dear, have just been hit by (insert echo effect here) "THE MANPOLOGY!"   While he's wondering what he could have possibly done wrong now, you're wondering how he could be so incredibly stupid.   Where did it all go so wrong?  Let's rewind this scenario a bit.   He calls and suggests a movie. You are imagining a night out at your favorite restaurant, followed up by cuddling and crying together at the latest chick flick.   Instead, Mr. Dude walked into your house with a six-pack and a DVD of Terminator, The Final Frontier, Part 27, whose only redeeming feature is a momentary glimpse of the reigning California Governor's bare ass.   You are rendered speechless in your disappointment and remain mute.  He finds it an incredibly peaceful and enjoyable evening.      The next morning, Dude wakes up from his run-in with the stupid stick and realizes that your whimpering during the movie wasn't in response to the fact that 60-year-old men with political aspirations shouldn't be bearing their bums, and that he must have somehow offended you.      Determined to make things right -- whatever his crime against humanity was -- he goes into the first phase of Manopoly.   Now please be aware that Dude does care -- although in the first phase, you will doubt this fact -- or he would never even mess with a Manpology.   Phase I - He becomes very very busy.  It can be work, friends, family, neighbors, even his cousin's neighbor's mother's dog.  It doesn't matter the reason, he's incredibly busy.  I call this the "Is it safe to go back in the water" phase.    When he next contacts you, if he hears the Jaws theme playing in the background, he's still busy for a bit.    Now you also have to realize, dude is not one who lives in the past, or likes to rehash bad memories (umm, mainly ones he caused).  Instead, let's make the future better.    Phase II - This is where the flowers and compliments come in.  He's going to be really really nice, showing you how considerate he is and how much he loves you.  And he's also holding his breath that it will work an[...]

The Bestest Toy In The Whole World!

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 15:35:00 GMT

  This is what we call my cat's favorite toy, incorrect grammar and all.   Last Christmas, Santa brought Cali Kitten a small stuffed heart made of felt, attached to a piece of elastic, attached to a stick, and wrapped in green ribbon.   Now Cali generally loves to play, but nothing has ever compared to her love for the Bestest Toy In The Whole World. The day after Christmas, I began finding small tufts of stuffing around the house, only to discover Bestest Toy's heart was now hollow.    The next day, the heart was not only hollow, but the middle of the heart was missing, and it was now a shapeless piece of felt hanging from elastic.   As the year has progressed, it resembles a couple small scraps of felt, with several knots, evidencing the many times we have performed delicate surgeries on Bestest Toy. Still, Cali loves it.  She guards it fiercely from Lilith, Dog of Wonder, and frequently drags it behind her, stick and all, meowing, alerting us all to the fact that she's the mighty hunter, and of her conquest over her prey.   So why is this toy so beloved?  Why this toy, and not the various toys in the animal toy box?????  She has many other toys on elastic and sticks, and we have since tried to find replacements as Bestest Toy  is well on its way to being loved to death.   I have no answer for you.  It just is.  But then, love is just like that.  We can't explain it, we can't capture it in our hands, we can't see it except through acts evidencing it, proving its illogical existence.   Yet love is a basic human need, right up there with breathing.   Except for perhaps love for a child, and in my case, chocolate -- which was love at first bite -- it's nothing instantaneous, or at least shouldn't be.   And love really isn't something that can be attained by sheer will or a demand to be loved.  It just is, or it isn't.  We all know we can't make someone love us, as hard as we try.   I know a year or so back, when The Secret was so popular (which I personally feel was a pop, over-simplified version of the laws of attraction), I had callers determined that if they just sat and were totally determined to make someone love them, it would happen.   Of course it doesn't work that way.   Is there a solution or a cure for love?  Yes.  It's called time, and, unfortunately, pain -- and a pint of Hagen Daaz.   If you want love, be lovable.  No, I don't mean giving your all to someone who isn't giving back.  But just like the old adage, you have to be a friend to have a friend, you have to love to be loved.   Ask for love.  Noooo, don't go up to your dude and say, "Love me, please."  Ask the Universe, ask God, ask your guides, your angels, ask the air.   Don't say, "Make Dude love me."  Say, "Bring me love."  I get many arguments and foot stomping on this one, callers saying, "But I already know who my love is!"   And I tell them, "If it's him, you win.  If it isn't, he will be replaced by someone better and -- guess what -- you win!"    I think the saying is true, a life well loved is a life well lived.   YOU so deserve it.  All you have to do is stop holding so tight to what isn't and open yourself up to what can be.  Illogical, perhaps, but so is love.   There are so many forms of love, from romantic love, to family love, love of self, which is your first step, to, yes, inexplicalbe love for a ragged little toy (thankfully, Cali hasn't mastered the art of reading yet, so shhhhhhh, don't tell her I said that).   So I'll continue to piece&nb[...]

Happiness is Overrated

Wed, 13 Aug 2008 14:56:00 GMT

  We hear it everywhere, "Do you want to be happy?"  "I want to be happy."  "I'm just not happy." "Everyone else is happy.  How come I'm not happy?"   Happy, happy, happy.  Happy, schmappy.  Some days I think if I hear that word misused and overused one more time, I'm going to -- hmmm, scream is soooo cliche -- I think I'll go punch out one of those little smiley faces.   Nobody walks around happy all the time.  If they tell you they do, they're lying - with the possible exception of Hugh Hefner on Viagra.  In the world of Laurie (yes, sometimes a sick and twisted place), satisfaction is where it's at.   Am I satisfied with my life?  Do I like where I'm living, what I'm doing and who I'm loving?  Can I spend time alone and be perfectly okay?  Can I find satisfaction in fulfilling my responsibilities, even though at this moment, it might not be what I prefer to be doing?   If you can answer yes, you are satisfied with yourself and have attained a sense of peace, peace within.  To me, happy comes in spurts, moments, occasions -- after a great call on Keen where I feel I made a difference in someone's life, a good laugh, a delicious piece of cake (chocolate, of course), being proud of my daughter, or just the simplicity of feeling warm and loved.    So often lately, I've noted people reaching for the elusive happiness, and not feeling the satisfaction and peace with what they have in the N-O-W.  If only they had money, love, a house, car, whatever, THEN and only then, will they be happy foreverafter.   I spoke to someone a while back who was unhappy because she hadn't met "the dude."  So we looked at her life, and we found that she was at a truly good spot in her life -- a good job, liked where she lived, precious pets she loved to death, family nearby, and plenty of friends to do things with.   But no partner to share it with.  Now it's pure human instinct to want to be loved, so of course it would be a lie to say she didn't desire that.  But really, life wasn't so bad.  She knew bad.  She'd visited that dark place a couple of times in her last relationships.  And that dark and angst-filled place was one she learned a lot from and had left far behind, with no desire to revisit.   But at the moment we spoke, she didn't care.  She said, "One bad apple spoils the bunch," meaning, "I'm so taken up with what I don't have, it's spoiling everything else.  Because, after all, 'everyone else' around me is happy."   This brought to mind a conversation I had a lifetime ago when I first got married, when a coworker said to me, "What's the best thing about being married?"  I got this warm and squishy feeling inside and replied, "Someone is there, all the time."   Then she asked, "Okay.  Now answer this one -- what's the worst thing about being married?"  After thinking about it, I said, "Someone is there, ALL THE DARN TIME!"    And this point was brought home by my daughter the other day.  Going into her senior year in high school, she's facing the daunting task of doing college applications, her senior thesis, and her entire future.  Frustrated, she whined, "Mom, I wish I could just go back to elementary school," not realizing in elementary school, she was chomping at the bit, anxious to grow up and experience the freedoms that come with age and responsibility instead of enjoying the carefree life that only exists in childhood.   And what an exciting time of life she's at now, with so much yet to unfold!   My point is, there is "good" and "bad" in everythin[...]

Care To Take a Dip In The Man Pool?

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 15:41:00 GMT

  Let's go swimming!!!!  Which pool would you like to swim in, the wading pool or the nice double Olympic-size pool (and I'll even throw Michael Phelps in the mix)?   Now I'm sorry to say, the little wading pool belongs to the women of the species, although we have a multitude of pools, small though they may be -- say about the size one might find in Barbie's Dream House.   Now the Man Pool is immense, one huge pool, where a dude can do the breast stroke (pun intended), and do laps till he's all worn out, or swim in circles for years before he's back at the beginning.   Now of course I'm talking about the pool of available prospects.   Let's use an example.  Say you're a beautiful, accomplished, educated, professional 40-year-old female doctor.  Who are you going to date?   Although the world may be teaming with available dudes, women tend to want someone they consider on their level or above.  While the poolboy may look good, and may amuse you for a while, you tend to want an accomplished, educated, professional dude that you can relate to.    Although these days age isn't as much of a factor, we usually tend to want someone around our age or older.  When we are presented with younger dude, issues arise regarding appearance.  Face it, sadly, our society is so appearance-conscious, it takes an extremely self-confident woman not to worry whether dude either is or will be dissatisfied with her appearance as she ages.  I get the calls to prove it.  And strangely,  the women are far more stressed about it than their younger dude is.    The dude of our fair Dr. Maiden's dreams will tend to be her equivalent or above in all categories.   Now grab your water wings, and let's take a dip in the dude pool.   This time, let's make it Dr. Dude, with the same parameters, hunky, accomplished, educated, professional. Who does Dr. Dude want?  You could drown in his dating pool!   Just like Dr. Maiden, his world is also teaming with available prospects, but here's the dif:  in his case, he's inviting them all in -- with scuba gear, no less.  He's got everyone from the 20-year-old receptionist who barely graduated high school to the 40-year-old doc down the hall.    The part that sucks is, it's his choice.  Does he want the nubile, young receptionist, or Dr. Maiden, our heroine in this story, who he can communicate on the same level with?   Now before we go changing his name to Dr. Pig, these women aren't exactly resisting his charms, or his money.  And after all, we do have the same choices, however unsatisfactory they are to us.   Part of it is also genetics.  Dudes are much more prone to pick a young, beautiful woman than we are to pick her male counterpart.  Why?  It's built into their, ahem, homing device to find a woman of the species to who can produce good, healthy junior Dr. Dudes, just as our preference is to seek out a good provider.   So what's a girl to do?  Absolutely nothing.   As unfair as it seems, I wouldn't change a thing.  Do I want to spend my life with the poolboy?  Nah.  Poolboy might be a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.   Keep your standards high, and don't ever settle for less than you deserve -- nothing but the best for you, baby!  [...]

The Best Little Girl In The World -- YOU!

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Due to several requests, I'm reposting this blog from several months ago.   How could he not love you?  After all, you are the most beautiful, the most loving, the nicest, kindest and most generous woman in the whole wide world!   Think of all you've done for Mr. Dude.  You make yourself available every time he calls, even if your job or friendships suffer.  You build his ego and constantly tell him how wonderful he is.  You cook for him.  You buy him little gifts.  You send him loving notes.  You let him know that he is stud of the world, a man among men, and only his joy stick can satisfy your playstation. Perhaps you're even giving him money or supporting him.   You've turned yourself into quite the gymnast doing all those back bends.  You've become so proficient at jumping through burning hoops, you're considering supplementing your income by hiring yourself out as a circus dog.     And yet . . . you're not getting the result you desire.  The Dudling is not recognizing the wonders of you like he did in the beginning, so you, sweet little Dudette, decide to step it up and do more.    But it seems instead of helping, you're becoming more anxious, more fearful, more angry and downright resentful.  After all you've done for Dude, not only is he not appreciative, but he seems to be pulling away from you.  Doesn't he owe you after all you've done for him?   Now stay with me here and keep breathing.  The answer is no, he owes you absolutely nothing.    And why is that, my little stalker chick?  Because he never asked for ANY of it.  You did it all by yourself.  In fact, it may be making him not only feel bad, but emasculated and decidedly undude-like.   I mean sure, the first hundred e-mails were cute and charming, but for every one he answered, you sent 20 more.  Woe is you at this point if you should send him a message that actually needs an answer, because your cute little cards and letters have ceased to be special or cute, and he's considering sending your mail to its own very special folder.  I think he called it SPAM.     Why, oh, why?   You're doing too much.   Let's look at it this way:  Do you like it when you owe people?  What if someone loaned you some money and they kept accruing interest so fast that you couldn't keep up with it?   Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable about it and them?  Natural human tendency is to avoid that which makes us feel bad.  So do you really honestly want him to feel like he owes you?   Let's use another example.  It's Christmas and you have a choice between spending it with your Aunt Alberta or your Aunt Cementine.   Aunt Alberta sends you $1000 every year.  She loves you desperately and she makes sure you know how much she misses you and lives for your visits.  She's been so great to you, but it seems you just can't do enough for her, and you know if you don't go see her, she will cry; and if you do, it still won't be enough.   Aunt Clementine never sends you a damn thing.  She loves you lots, and would be absolutely delighted to see you.  But really, she's too busy having a good time to cry if you don't show up.  Aunt Clementine is happy and busy, and you can walk in the door with a present, or just bring yourself, and she'll be delighted to see you and you know you'll have a great time.   Who would you rather visit?  And who w[...]

And The Winner Is . . .

Tue, 05 Aug 2008 16:05:00 GMT

We all want to win, every one of us.  And nothing tastes sweeter than victory after a long-fought battle.   But sometimes I find, somewhere along the way, we took our eye off the ball and let it become all about the fight and winning rather than the prize.   Let me give you an example.  Say you met a dude (you knew this was where I was heading, didn't you????).  In fact, this dude is so charming and romantic and everything about him is simply perfect -- well, except for the fact that he's been quite honest with you, he doesn't want to commit. He's Slippery Dude!   Or take the example of Married Dude.  Married Dude loves you, wants to be with you, thinks you're an angel dropped straight from heaven into his lap.  But, he's Married Dude.   Oh, how you want Married Dude or Slippery Dude.  Your life would be perfect, if only, sigh, you two could be together.  You would do ANYTHING -- and I mean ANYTHING -- if only you could have this man.   Love is not enough (it never is), nor are the good times you spend with this man.  You must WIN!   Your life revolves around this goal.  Yes, you get discouraged.  Yes, you lose hope.  Yes, you cry, you hurt, but you can't give up.  After all, your goal could be right around the corner, the summit might be right around this next bend on the mountain trail.  You can't stop now!   Now along the way, spending time with Dude, you might have noticed a few warning signs.  Maybe Dude drinks too much; maybe Dude is lying to you; maybe Dude hurts you consistently and doesn't care; in the case of Married Dude, maybe he is far more concerned about keeping his wife happy than hurting you; maybe Dude has cheated on you; maybe he puts his friends first; or perhaps Dude belches, farts, scratches, eats with his mouth open or chews tobacco and spits - all over your new couch.  Pick one, doesn't matter.  You get the idea.  Things that under normal circumstances would be a deal-breaker for you.   Except in this case, you don't care.  After all, once he's with you, you'll get him to stop drinking.  If he's cheating, he won't because you'll be his permanent sexual fantasy. Is he a wuss when it comes to his wife?  Oh, you'll put a stop to that once you're in control.  In fact, all this will disappear once you have him.   None of it matters - all that matters is that he's yours and you WIN!   So let's say you win.  Yep, you've finally won this fabulous prize among prizes!!!!!  Congratulations.  You've won your heart's desire and now you will be off to live the life you've always dreamed of.    Your life is perfect!  You two will spend every night in bed sipping champagne and have mind-blowing sex until you can't even function.  Except . . .   Every time he takes a sip of champagne, he belches - in your face.  When he tells you he's going to the bathroom, he slips out the back door to go hang with his buds.  When he tells you he has to work late, he comes home smelling of perfume.  Oh, and the ex?  She hasn't taken defeat lightly and he's even a bigger wuss around her than when he was with her.   It's like you've been competing in Dude Olympics and after years of training, not only didn't you get the gold, you got the tarnished tin.   What the hell happened?  Absolutely nothing.  He's the same person he was before, but somehow, it's exceedingly disappointing.     The problem here is, you took your eye off the ball.  Your quest became [...]