Flirting: A Guide Part 2

So let's be real. That last flirting guide was to be taken in jest. If any of you were naïve enough to take it seriously, well, I'm really very sorry. Up next, however, I thought I'd help you all out, like, for real.

Below you will find some of my many cautionary tales. I can't list all of them because I'm assuming you want to finish reading before you die.

Without further ado:

1. A line that probably won't get him feisty:

So there was this kid in my poetry class. Voluntarily. POETRY amiright?? Cute AND had a thing for Wordsworth. And I knew he was straight (I was 75% sure he was straight). It was like winning the lottery. We lived in the same dorm and he had come over a few times (He had come over to stand in the doorway and borrow notes a few times).

Needless to say, I thought things were progressing nicely. So this one time after class, we're walking back to our building when out of nowhere, this happens:

Ted*: Hey so, since it's Friday and all I was wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out or something?

Jordan:............

Ted: Or are you busy?

Jordan: ......NO. No, I mean not really. I mean I was gonna Skype-watch a Jane Austen movie with my best friend tonight, but I can totally just do that on Saturday.

Ted: Um, yea, so I'll just be by around 7 then?

He was not around by 7. Or 8. Or ever again. "Pride and Prejudice" was however, just as magical that 137th time as it was all the others.

Why participate in life when Keira can do it for me?

*Ted wasn't his name. Neither was Frank.

2. How to identify what was not, in fact, a line at all:

So there was this other kid in my American Lit class, and he was blonde and beautiful and this one time he came in carrying a CD I had JUST DOWNLOADED AND LOVED so clearly we were meant to be together. He sat right in front of me. Every MWF. So I decided I could finesse this situation. Eavesdrop a little. Find out what he liked and stuff. I had nothing but time.

Then one day, I decided that was it. I was going to do it. I was going to say "hi" to plaid-shirt-dude and let fate take it from there. And I did! Ready for it?

PSD: ACHOO
Jordan: Bless you!
PSD: Thanks.

And here was my fatal mistake: Here I thought, job well done. Contact made. Spring wedding it is. But as for him? I think he called me Jenny once.

Does dinner and a movie work for you?

My point is this my loveless friends; "Bless you" is not a line. Neither is "Excuse me".

3.This one would've been a disaster anyways, but it really wasn't my fault:

Once again we find ourselves in a classroom. A history classroom this time. Gen eds, you understand. I had been sitting next to this super cute guy for half a semester, and we were actually talking. Not just "responding to natural bodily nose functions" talking either. Really talking. And he was so so nice. And I knew it wouldn't be long. Subtext will follow in () because everyone knows that as girls there are always at least two conversations happening at once;

Ben: Hey so that test was way hard. I thought I'd do a lot better. Crap.

Jordan: Yea, some of those questions were totally worded badly. It was confusing. (He is going to ask me to study with him.)

Ben: Hey, so can I borrow the notes from last Friday when I was out? I didn't feel well. I promise I won't make it a habit to skip and just mooch off of you.

Jordan: Um, well, that depends. See cause I like to outline the actual book as I read it, and then I also take notes in class during lecture. And then I like to go home and cross-reference and type out a final outline based on the most important parts from each outline. So if you wanna wait until I have the final one all typed up I can give it to you the next time I see you? (Should I bring him soup? Airborne? He's so considerate. I bet he'd plan nice dates.)

Ben: Wow, geeze, you're thorough. You wouldn't want to study for Friday's quiz would you? I could totally use the help.

Jordan: Um, sure! (It's happening. It's all HAPPENING! I'm baking cookies.)

Ben: Great! 8ish? We can meet at my dorm. It's in St. Joesph's.

Jordan: Wait...is that the...(Cling to hope. Cling to it!)

Ben: Seminary? Yea! I take my vows in like 2 more years. I'm super stoked. I just wanna get my degree first.

Jordan: Yep. Cool. See ya then. (He's not getting cookies. I'm going to hell).

Hot and "Collared"

Game. Set. Match. Praise God.

And that, dear readers, is all the advice I have for today. If you take care not to follow my example(s) you will be in no way closer to having a successful flirting life. You will, however be closer to NOT not having a flirting life. Doing what I did above probably brought me to level -3 in terms of flirting skills. Who are we kidding? -5. Learn from my mistakes and you'll probably break even.

That's all I can give you.

Transportation; A Plebeian Account

Good God I'm back! After the incredibly sorrowful and tearful (on my end) death of my beloved pink laptop, I was left utterly bereft and frankly felt like using a new computer was a huge betrayal. However, I now know that my dead laptop has no feelings, however if she did, she would be like the world begging Selina Gomez (aka me) to move on already. So here I am.

By the way, this laptop is black, and as I type I'm becoming increasingly certain that any ability of mine to be funny is actually possessed by crazily colored computers. So we'll see how this goes.

After seeing a passenger get smacked in the head by the foot of a child pole dancing on the subway while he should have been in school (This happens all the time. Like, ALL THE TIME.) I began reflecting on the strange beast the subway really is. This was made all the more possible thanks to the music I had blaring from my iPod in an attempt to drown out the couple screaming Hungruspolian or whatever terrifying language that was. And so we have a playlist, a musical narration if you will, for all of the experiences that await you on one of New York's, nay, the world's, strangest modes of transportation.

1. When the train is super full...

...or perhaps (even more disturbingly) when it is not.

2. When you see that homeless person sleeping on one of the benches and it's like 2 degrees outside and you don't understand why life is so damn unfair? This is also the night you not only went out to eat, but ate 1/4th of your food and refused a box because carrying it just seemed... Really. Really. Hard. Like that cold plastic seat that man is now sleeping on. You monster.

Anne gets it. Sure you relate more to Eponine, but what girl doesn't? Seriously, what girl because her life was obviously a lot easier than mine and that's not fair.

3. When you suddenly stop feeling bad because then you smell the poor homeless man.

I'm sorry you're homeless. If I give you a dollar can I breath again?

4.When you finally manage to fight and squeeze and endure gropings enough to get a seat....and then a million nursing home residents and kids on field trips and pregnant women get on.

But you do. You do move. Because you believe in decency. And because you need karma points since you didn't feed that homeless guy who is still out cold.

5. That horrific moment you accidentally make eye contact. Or emote. 

No! Wait! You want to live!

6. What to do after you've smiled/ you feel like you've been on here far too long.

I'm glad you wanna run, since you had better, now that the whole train knows you're a big, smiling, softie. Also, while  the streets do have names, they might as well not since there's a 90% chance you have no idea where you're going.

It's cool. Let Bono be your guide.

Things I will miss about watching "Little Women" with my sisters on Thanksgiving

Well, friends, it's almost Thanksgiving, and while I will most likely be crying into some cold leftover French Fries tomorrow evening, I thought I'd reflect on one of my favorite parts of the holiday; either buck myself up or make myself more depressed. Guess we'll see by the end of this post.

In the past, every year whilst indulging in the great American tradition of over-eating, and much to the chagrin of my brothers-in-law, my sisters and I watch a haunting classic  that inspires, gladdens, and reminds us that if you don't have sisters you really don't have much. Sorry only children. You lost at this game called life the minute your parents decided you were gonna roll through it solo. Go nab some more turkey as you realize that you're doomed to trek through this world alone with the entire mantle of your parents' happiness  on your tired sad shoulders. Happy Holidays.

Anyways. "Little Women." We always watch "Little Women." Can we quote the entire movie? Yes. Do we? Yes? Does it make everyone in the family want to pop open another bottle of red? Yes. Do we care? No. Because we love it, like we love each other and if anyone tries to stand between us and that love, we will burn off their hair with a curling iron in a Josephine March kind of move.

Confession: I teared-up just finding this picture. So sue ue me for feeling.

Now, some specifics of the things I will miss during this experience:

1. Winoa Ryder talking

Does she have cotton balls stuck in her mouth? Did she lose part of her tongue in an unfortunate skiing accident? We'll never know, but what we do know is that it makes me want to giggle and hulk-smash ornaments at the same time and it's wonderful.

2.Baby Kristen Dunst

It's so weird to see her like that. Tiny and not malnourished.  Possessing a personality. Keeping her top on. Really takes you back.

3.Wishing Marmee was your Marmee

I love my mom don't get me wrong. But my mom doesn't really walk around saying quotes that sound like a Walt Whitman poem and a Hallmark card got married and produced a wise quote-baby that will talk you through any crisis you are having in your life. Susan Sarandon does. Cause she's Marmee. And she's reading from a script. 

I hate real life.

4. The dresses

I mean, what if we all just started dressing like they did in the 1800s again? Bet it wouldn't be weird if we all did it. They all look so pretty and like they're having so much fun in those hoop skirts. Come on guys. "Hoops" with me?!?!

5. Christian Bale is Theodore Laurence?

What? Batman was around back then? NO! Before he became (in my opinion) a really creepy version of Batman with a creepy scratchy "disguise" voice to match, he was sensitive, sweet, Byron-esque, Teddy who had eyes only for his music and Jo. 

(And later Amy the little one, when she grows up, but it's still weird because she was like his baby sister but you're willing to look past it because this movie is a GOD DAMN TREASURE) 

6. Watching this after too many old-fashioneds with my sisters

Because we quote it badly and it's never not funny and once they kill off the one sister (spoiler alert!)  there are three of them just like us. And we love it. And I miss them. That's all.

Thoughts on Hell; A Narrated Street Encounter

So. As it's a reasonably nice day outside, you decided to forgo the bus and walk, since 3 miles really isn't that far and Kelly Ripa told America to exercise more this morning. While you find her to be a hyperactive shrew-elf, it's good advice.

That's actually someone's face.

It's not until you're deep into your T.Swift iPod reverie, when you sense it, the way models sense the food trucks they must flee from.

You look up and to your horror, you see them. The fancy clipboards. The over-enthusiastic smiles that say, "We're halfway through undergrad and totally unskilled so, here we are", and the overall peppy infuriating audacity of it all.

They are those kids who accost passersby on the sidewalk for any number of charities they probably made up.

And you've just made eye-contact. You beautiful fool.

Get away you green-vested freak.

You pray that maybe because you are jamming to Taylor, they'll let you be because you know that like the rebel armies they are fighting against on behalf of Amnesty International they DO take prisoners. Dear God they're about to take you.

The words "Do you have a minute to save the planet" rain down with a sickening thud like the horrible punch dubbing of a "Walker Texas Ranger" episode and you know you're caught. Let's not lie: you're on your way to Payless. You do have a minute. You can't run away. That would make you a monster. That would make you one of them.

As the snot-nosed brat launches into statistics about how the world is basically dead (much like your will to live) you briefly consider telling him something to end it all. Something like, " Oh, you know, actually I'm on my way to pick up some tile for a house I'm building on protected precious marshland. Yes. My house is actually being made out of bamboo and rare trees from the Amazon. Once it's built my family of 20 and I plan to take multiple hour long showers daily before we feast on seared Polar Bear and baby Panda."

But you would never. You have a soul, whereas this man, he has a World Wildlife Fund hat and a quota.

So you listen politely, give him a smile at the close, and turn to be on your way.

It's then that he scoffs judgmentally, jeering as he says that's great, and he's glad you have sooo much compassion for the dolphins.

Tears prick your eyes as you almost turn round to retort, " 'Flipper' is my favorite movie, you tree-hugging monster. And I DID give you something today. My soul. Isn't' that enough? ISN'T IT?"

But you stare straight ahead and walk on. Because he doesn't get to win. Not today. 

Not about dolphins.

Not about life.

I never promised you a hash-brown casserole

I think we all know what time it almost is. It's almost casserole season. Let's get pumped. Oh wait...I'm in New York now? Well crap.

Le sigh. Sometimes I forget what a novelty casserole type foods are. For in the Midwest they are a staple, like collegiate state T-shirts or making sure your offspring knows the catchphrase to monitor corn's growing progress ("How tall must the corn be to be a marketable crop, Jimmy?" "Knee high by the forth of July?" "Good job son, here's a butter cookie.")

Ah casseroles. Hearty. Filling. Full of many different foods combined to bake well at high temperatures. Expect one if your husband broke his foot or your dog died. Your neighbor will bring it over and tell you he/she made you some tuna noodle casserole because it reheats like a dream. They will then express sympathy for your hardship and remind you of the proper cooking duration and temperature. They will make sure to mention this several times in conversation, passive-aggressively make a dig at you decor, and leave.

It seems there are many differences between the two regions I now identify with, especially when it comes to food. To clarify, I now present to you, a summary of a typical Midwestern Family Dinner or MFD. We begin:

My sisters and I indulge in some idle gossip while my mother bemoans such talk and then proceeds to tell us all about the lesbian neighbors' latest row. She then tells us to set the table. We down our old-fashioneds, and, obnoxiously quoting "Little Women", obey. Because that's what we do in the middle of the country. What we're told.

We say a before-meal prayer, made awkward by the fact that two out of the three of us daughters are at least agnostic; we might live in the Heartland, but times are still a'changing. But like our love of the word "pop" our Midwestern moral compasses endure, don't you worry. 

We spend a moment inquiring about the origin of the potatoes comprising the three to four starch-filled dishes that come standard with any dinner in the Land of Heart. We settle on Idaho and Wisconsin and bemoan those states for not being Illinois. The Mars Cheese Castle at the Illinois/Wisconsin boarder is the next topic, and my sisters and I mock it while we are secretly heartbroken that we have never actually stopped there on our way to the Wisconsin wilderness. 

Wait they serve cocktails?? Why have we never stopped here???

My mother will talk about distant family that we don't know being dead or close to death as my sisters and I get seconds. My father will get frustrated at the dogs as they climb on chairs and tables in an effort to eat some chicken and rice bake. He will swear and go get a beer. One brewed in either St. Louis or Milwaukee because other beer simply doesn't exist. He will be taciturn and morose the rest of the evening until he falls asleep in a chair by 7:30.

Dessert follows and is either a banana pudding, or a Duncan Hines cake mix with too much frosting. As "Wheel of Fortune  comes on the TV, we know it's time to leave, and after making sure we help clear the table, we depart, with tupperware full of leftovers in our arms. Because after all, in case you weren't aware, casserole is easily reheated. But god help you if you stick it in an oven set higher than 350. God. Help. You.

 Ahh yes, I miss it already.

Dear New York

Hey there, Big Apple.

So I'm moving to you in two days, and you'll probably be able to tell (as all sparkling, intuitive metropolises would be able to) that I am a tad bit nervous. I'm hoping, however, being that we've never really met, you won't hold it against me, and that we'll work out.

Since communication is the cornerstone of any relationship, especially a new one, I thought I'd let you know what was bothering me. *Ahem*

List of things about NY that make me want to nervous-barf:

1. Bagels

I can't know for sure yet, but I'm pretty sure you're bagels are one of your enduring legacies. Tastier than Lady Liberty, your circular mouth-monuments are the stuff of New York legend. But what if my Thomas' Bagels-heart hates them...and then you hate me and tell everyone and then people pelt me with fancy bagels??

2. Homelessness

Dramatic? No, but really. Your rents cost more that the Kardashian Family's hair extensions.

3.Especially Heinous?

Ok. So maybe "Law & Order" made me a bit biased, but I kind of feel like there's a mass murderer hiding in every alley...

4. Alleys

Wait. I heard a rumor you don't have these? Lame. You stink. Literally. Know what would solve that issue? Alleys.

5. Rats

I also hear you have a lot of these. You should know if I see one, I will pee myself and die.

There are probably more, but making this list has mad me need to go hyperventilate-cry in the bathroom.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you so much throw one bad day my way, I WILL go sob in a public bathroom, because unlike your hard-knock self, I am weak like the corn stalks of my homeland.

Go easy on me. See ya.

Uh, can you just come get me?

So. It's been a while. And I'm fresh out of interesting/droll posting ideas. So we're going to go back to my Swiss escapades, and revisit one of those; namely the time I probably almost died on my way to Heidelberg. 

To be really fun, I'm going to narrate in third person. Let's begin.

It's late evening on some day during the week. The narrator can't remember. It's been a while.

Anyway, Jordan is travelling to visit her friend in the idyllic city of Heidelberg, a city that's been described to her as quaint, charming, and probably a lot like the place Belle from "Beauty and the Beast" lived in, if Belle had been cool and German, instead of French. Whatevs.

What I should have seen.

A nervous adventurer, Jordan begins questioning her decision to embark at night, since now it's dark which makes her uneasy. Having already made her 4 scheduled connections, she clutches her over-packed suitcase tightly as she waits to make the 5th and final transfer, since European trains are confusing; Jordan surmises this is just for spite.

Upon hearing "blahioehah;jakj;dfHEIDELBERGjiohaiheaoha" Jordan promptly gets off the train, visions of pigeons singing as bakers break out some freshly baked night bread dancing through her head, when she is met with.....darkness. And scary youths leaning against what looks to be an abandoned barn that is ACTUALLY a ticket stand in the light of day because that's not creepy.

Not wanting to linger and see what the German teens who linger by dark train tracks do to viel spass at night, she promptly heads up to the main street.....and there is nothing. She knows now that something is terribly wrong, because this town was supposed to be cute, and this place is dark and shady and probably full of meth-heads. She surmises. It's dark out. She can't really see.

What I actually saw....not really....but maybe

She decides to pick a direction and walk. There's light to the left, so off she goes. Don't worry though, the source of the light is not a musical Disney town, but instead, a factory. Of what Jordan did not discover, as she had to collapse on her suitcase and sob for a moment. It might be a good time to let you, the reader know, that at this point she discovers her phone doesn't work, since it was Swiss, and well, she wasn't in Switzerland. Moron. 

Her sob-fest is soon interrupted by footsteps, and she looks up to see a man walking on the other side of the road, towards her. He is clearly a serial killer and she begins speed-walking towards the train station while resigning herself to either a short life in white-slavery (she'll never make it long who are we kidding), or a roadside death. 

Salvation appears in the form of a phone booth, and Jordan quickly steps inside, only to discover that all the windows have been broken out, since this is clearly a really swanky part of town. She hastily pulls out the 10 euros she has in her name, several of them coins, and deposits them into the coin slot. While trying to punch her friend's number (which she later learns was changed prior to this evening; we're really great at planning) she calls the Steiner family twice. Does she know them? Of course not. She considers, briefly, asking them where they are, where she is, and if they could maybe pick her up. But the second time she accidentally calls, they sound angry (well, angrier than normal German already sounds) so she decides against it.

She despondently makes her way to the bench by the train station, determined to wait either for dawn or her kidnapping, when a Rastafarian girl with dreadlocks comes into view. Leaping up with the morale of Amanda Bynes' agent, Jordan runs over and asks her if there is a hotel or hostel anywhere near there. Boho German  chick responds that indeed there is....in Heidelberg. 

Jordan then learns she got off at (rough translation) "Heidelberg outskirts" and not "Heidelberg Main Town". 

She'd just like you to know that the fault here is obviously Germany's gross deficit of creativity and not, in fact, her poor planning and shoddy German skills. I mean, that's basically the same name....for two towns within 10 miles of each other. I think I know what we're all thinking: Go home city planner. You're drunk.