Sometimes I think my life is funny.

Monday, April 17, 2017

30 things I am going to do before I'm 30

      1. Take 30 pictures with 30 giant animals
For no other reason than this sounds both challenging and fun. Statues, mascots, and real animals all count in my mind.

This would count. 

2. Give 30 $30 tips on bills that are less than $30
I come from a family where almost every person worked in the service industry. I remember eating breakfast at the restaurant my mom waitressed at before school every day. I know that people who serve others are often undervalued, and I’d like to make 30 people feel a bit more valued over the next year.

3. Find out if I have abs
Ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you that I don’t believe in working out. I just don’t see the appeal. But as a girl who sits in a wheelchair all day long, I think it’d be nice to see abs instead of my beautiful food baby when I hit 30. Let’s see if I can make that happen!

*see first picture for example of my food baby as it is prominently displayed. 

4. Dress as a cat all day. Go in public.
We all know I am a cat. It’s time I be proud of my identity and show the world who I really am. Meow.

Like this. ALL. DAY. LONG. 

5. Go on vacation alone.
I travel alone all of the time for work. And I vacation with others pretty regularly. But the idea of vacationing alone makes me nervous. I like company. I also hate the idea of people stereotyping me as a poor “wheelchair girl” who couldn’t find a friend to vacation with her. But screw that. I have friends that I know would vacation with me. It’s time I be comfortable with me, and be comfortable with me in front of other people and stop caring if they’re judging me.

6. Karaoke Jagged Edge/Rev Run’s “Let’s Get Married”
Because, well, this has always been a dream of mine and it’s time to fulfill it.

7. Try 30 different burgers and rate them.
      *Bonus if I can get 30 different people to buy me the burgers.
My friend from high school suggested this because, if you’ve read this blog, you know I live for burgers. I’ve sat through some rough dates because I was committed to the burger I was eating. I think eating and rating 30 different burgers is a fantastic goal to meet before my 30th birthday. I am going to give myself bonus points if I can get 30 other people to buy me the burgers because the only thing that tastes better than a burger is a free burger!
8. Unplug for an entire day.
My life revolves around my email. I’m trying to stop that. When I’m not emailing, I’m taking pictures of my cats and posting them. While that might not be the worst way to spend my time, I’m hoping spending a day unplugged will help me to discover even better ways to spend my time.

9. Give 30 things away.
As the youngest of three kids, I always had hand me downs. As a result, now that I am an adult with a paycheck, I buy way too much just because I can. I own too much and I just don’t need it all. It’s time to share my cool stuff with others.

10. Spend a whole weekend with my mom
My family is not your typical sitcom family. Far from it. My mother and I haven’t always had the most loving relationship, but that’s no reason we can’t try to get to a good place now. I am going to spend a whole weekend with her and I am hoping we will both survive. First I need to convince her to do this with me…

Usually my sister is there if I'm hanging out with my mom. She serves as a great buffer. 

11. Bake something without a mix
We all know cooking is a struggle for me. As is baking. Once I made burnt raw cookies. I am determined that this is the year I am going to bake something without a recipe and have it come out at least slightly edible. I am hoping it will be pie.

12. Pay off 3 big debts
It would be nice to go into 30 with a little less debt. While I know I won’t be able to pay off my law school loans in a year, I am hoping I can tackle some smaller big debts, like my credit card or car. I think future Stephanie will appreciate this.

13. Do a headstand
I’ve just started hatha yoga. I thought yoga would help me find zen, but it’s also helping me find different ways to tangle my body. This lady on youtube makes headstands look like a typical afternoon activity (I’m looking at you, Leslie Fightmaster) and I’m over here falling all over my living room while my cats stare at me. I am going to do a headstand before I turn 30. Hopefully I’ll find my zen too.

Damn you Leslie. 

14. Keep a plant alive for 6 months
Every plant I’ve ever had has died a tragic death under my watch. If I’m ever going to have kids, I feel like I should start with keeping a plant alive for at least 6 months first, just to show I can keep something alive. I mean, I keep cats alive, but they’re pretty low maintenance. I imagine kids and plants are more needy than cats, so I’ll start with a plant. I am open to suggestions on hardy plants that can survive my travel schedule and general forgetful nature.

15. Build something
I don’t think I’m going to suddenly become a master craftsman and build a couch, but I’d like to build something with my hands. I don’t know what yet, but something.

16. Go to a bar alone
Just the thought of this is freaking me out. As I mentioned above, I have a fear of people judging me as a poor crip who has no friends. I need to stop caring so much about what people may be thinking. By the time I hit 30, I need to stop giving a fuck about what other people think of me. This is going to help me get there…I hope.

17. Take a class on something creative, like cooking or knitting
I used to have a creative side. I think it left in law school. I’m going to get it back by taking a class in something creative. Who knows, maybe I’ll make new friends in that class!

18. Learn a new skill and show it off on my 30th Birthday!
This was a suggestion from my niece’s mom and I really liked it. Maybe my new skill will be from a class. Maybe I’ll learn something on youtube. I don’t know. But I do know I am going to learn to do something awesome and show it off on my 30th birthday.

19. Complete 30 acts of kindness to show my appreciation for others
This was another suggestion from a friend (thanks Sarah!) and I love it. While I try to show others my appreciation, I think I can be more intentional about both being kind and showing my appreciation to others. I’m excited to get started on this one and hopefully brighten other people’s days!

20. Throw a dinner party
When I googled “30 under 30 goals” this came up on a ton of lists. Apparently people are really into dinner parties and I’m not sure why. At first I wasn’t going to add this to my list because (1) I can’t cook, and (2) I have a genuine fear that no one would show up if I invited them to a dinner party. I can’t keep avoiding things because I’m afraid of the outcome though, so I will be throwing a dinner party within the next year. Pizza rolls will likely be on the menu. Let me know if you want to come!

This is what a dinner party at my place looks like. 
21. Go to a country that I’ve never been to
I’ve been able to travel to many places throughout my life, and for that I count myself as very lucky. But why stop now? I’d like to fit in at least one more country I’ve never been to before. And then after I hit 30, I’d like to fit in even more!

22. Get a facial
This seems like a thing adults do. My best friend had a facial once and she said it was terrible and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Others have told me they’re magical. I tend to believe my best friend over others, but I’m going to try it myself, if for no other reason than to confirm that my bestie is right.

23. Learn how to change a tire
I feel like this is the kind of basic skill I should have. I am going to learn. Hopefully I’ll never need this knowledge.

24. Buy a crop top. Wear it in public.
As previously discussed, I have a food baby and I’m more than slightly self conscious about it. I want to buy a crop top and have the confidence to wear it in public.

25. Cook a meal without a recipe and buy all the ingredients myself.
This goal was suggested by my sister and she has full confidence that I can do this one. I have been getting Home Chef for a few weeks and have been pretty successful with the meals they send, but my sister wants me to take it a step further by buying my own ingredients, measuring the ingredients myself, and not even using a recipe! Let’s see how this goes. I might just invite my sister for dinner when I attempt this one.

26. Learn to meditate without falling asleep.
I have tried meditating a few times since 2014, but I always end up just falling asleep. I’d like to be able to meditate without falling asleep, and perhaps this will help me on my quest to get my zen on.

27. Help someone else check off something on their list.
Whether it’s a 30 before 30 or 40 before 40 or just a general bucket list, I want to help someone else check something off their own list.

28. Make a list of 1095 things I am grateful for (or 3 things per day for 365 days!).
My life is full of so many wonderful cats, humans, and experiences. I have so much to be grateful for and I want to take the time to truly reflect on all that I appreciate in my life.

29. Go on an incredible 30th birthday best friend vacation.
My best friend and I go on an annual Best Friend Vacation, and it generally falls around our birthdays (mine in April, hers in May). For our 30th birthdays, we need to go ALL OUT. We’ve previously done a cruise from Miami to Mexico, an 8 day road trip in Ireland, and an all-inclusive resort in Punta Cana, so those will be hard to beat, but I think we can do it!

Katie and me in Punta Cana!
30. Throw a fabulous 30th birthday party!
Again with my fear that no one will show up to a party I throw. Let’s hope by 30 I get over this fear. Please keep April 21 and April 28 of 2018 open and plan on attending.

To keep myself on track, I plan to chronicle my quest to complete this list in this very blog. Please feel free to help me along my way or just pester me to keep me on track! Also feel free to attend my parties and buy me cheeseburgers J

Sunday, April 2, 2017

That Time I Went to an Old People Club & Remembered Why I Hate People

Hello there! It's been a while, and while I thought I might never revive this blog, due to the popular demand (and by "popular" I mean 3 people), I thought I'd try to bring this back to life. Let’s get a few things out of the way up front: this blog is not about a date and does not include any cheeseburgers. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but moreover, I’m sorry I didn’t get a cheeseburger.

Last week my amazing best friend, Katie, was stressed from work, and frankly, so was I. Then I went to D.C. for a protest in the middle of the week to fight against the American Health Care Act, and on that Friday the bill was pulled. So between the stress and the urgent need to celebrate a big win, my bestie and I decided we needed to go dancing.

Now, as a woman in a wheelchair, I need some space on the dance floor to bring out my good moves. For this reason, we automatically nixed all the clubs that allowed 18 year olds, because there’s nothing sexy about being smashed against other humans on a packed dance floor and feeling their sweat drip on you. Instead, we decided to go to what Katie described to me as “the old people club” called Taylors.

I figured we’d have plenty of space on the dance floor and no one would bother us because I assumed all the old guys there would be going for the old ladies. Awesome.

So I throw on my sparkle tights (yep, I have sparkle tights. More than one pair, actually!), and hit the club with my supermodel looking best friend. And I gotta be honest, it takes a lot of self confidence to dance next to Katie because she’s tall, gorgeous, and a great dancer. I’m short, slightly pudgy, and most of my dance moves come from the 80s and my Zumba class. So I break out my self-confidence and dance next to her. 

I wasn't kidding.
Here we are just casually chilling with parrots
and she looks like a supermodel
while I look like... well, not a supermodel. 

However, I had to take pause when we entered the club because I thought we had gone to a dance club, but it looked like we were in a strip club or an aerobics studio from all the mirrors on the walls. Even in my Zumba class I refuse to watch myself dance in the mirror because I’m painfully awkward and offbeat, so why the fuck would I want to watch myself pretend to be sexy while dancing to Pitbull at a club? I don’t.

This is the actual club. However, we did not get light up hula hoops.
That may have changed my opinions about the mirrors. 

But here’s where it gets weird: NO ONE ELSE THOUGHT THE MIRRORS WERE AWKWARD.

No, these girls were literally dancing with themselves in the mirror. A group of five women walked in the club together and instead of dancing in a circle with each other, THEY LINED UP AND DANCED WITH THEMSELVES IN THE MIRROR. Is this normal? Am I the only one that thinks it’s weird to dance with myself?

Whatever. I kept dancing because I wasn’t about to let these weirdos ruin my night of fun. I’m dancing and no one is going to stop me.

But then, people actually started stopping me.

One guy stopped me to tell me he likes my tights. Great bro, but I’m trying to dance here. Admire the sparkle tights from afar, k?

Then the next guy stops me to tell me he loves my red lips. Super, want to borrow my lip crayon? No? Then don’t interrupt me while I’m breaking out my sweet moves.

The next guy asks my friend if he can dance with me. She tells him to ask me. I tell him to fuck off because how dare he ask someone else if he can dance with me instead of asking me. He ignores my “fuck no” and grabs my hands and starts spinning me around like he knows what he’s doing, but every time I twirl, this winner forgets that he needs to move his damn feet and I roll over his toes. 

After 20 seconds, I cut the dance off. He leans over and gets really close to my ear just to yell “You’re a great dancer!!!” Thanks for yelling in my ear, good sir. “You could improve” I respond as I rolled to the dance floor in the next room to get away from him.

People, I’m just here to dance. I’m not here to dance with you, I’m here to dance. I’m certainly not here to TALK to you. I’m not giving these guys any “come hither” looks, in fact, I’m not looking at anyone! My eye level is basically at everyone’s crotch, so half the time I’m closing my eyes and dancing in my own world. If I look at anyone, it’s by accident when I get super excited about a good song and start swinging my head violently.

I cannot be more clear: I came here to dance! I am not here to get a man. If I wanted that, I would go on Tinder where I can quickly swipe left until I see a guy with a cat in his picture, and then finally swipe right.

100% right swipe. 

Despite the fact that I make no invitation for anyone to speak to me, a charming man comes up to me, puts his hands on my legs, and leans over to say “I wonder what you would look like if you weren’t hobbled.”

Now mind you, I've started yoga to get my Zen on, so instead of my natural response of flipping the fuck out, I simply said “That’s incredibly rude, get away from me." 

“It’s not rude! I just meant I thought this was a temporary thing and I want to know what you look like when you’re not like that” the charmer replied.

How many people with temporary disabilities have sparkling, hot pink wheelchairs? Seriously, I want to know. Also, do people really look much different when they’re standing v. sitting? Want to know what I would look like if I wasn’t in a chair? A short, semi pudgy girl with awkward dance moves and sparkle tights.

“Bye” I told him as I went back to dancing to what sounded like all the songs from the NOW! CD from 2000.

I thought that guy would be the winner of Douche of the Night, but no. I clearly underestimated the crowd.

Next a guy with a gold grill approaches me. My first thought was “Are grillz still a thing?” In his world they are. He asked to dance. I said no. He asks Katie to dance, shockingly, she says no. We continue to dance.

Does anyone in the world actually think this is attractive? 

Later, as Katie is off calling us a taxi, Grill Guy comes up to me and tries to hug me. I push him away. His friend comes up to me and says “He’s a good guy, I know him. And I want you to know that even though you’re in a wheelchair, I still think you’re human.”

Wait, even though I use a wheelchair, you still THINK I’m a human?

I didn't realize my status as a human was in jeopardy because I use a wheelchair. 

I have absolutely no patience for this shit, so I say “That’s so fucking rude, get away from me.”

Friend of Grillz pulls me back and says “I’M A GOOD GUY!” and then tries to enlist the people around him to vouch for his good-guyness. The people around him say “I don’t know you.”

So Friend of Grillz decides to grab me and pull me really close as I try to pry him off of me so he can shout in my war “ALL I’M SAYING IS IF YOU COULD GET OUT OF THAT CHAIR I WOULD FUCK YOU SO HARD!” Thankfully, that is when a group of women I don’t know pull this guy off of me and push him away.

Thankfully, that’s also the same time Katie finished calling us a cab and we left.

Abbreviated version:

Went to a club where I thought I would be able to dance uninterrupted. Ended up at a stripclub/aerobics studio where the DJ played his hottest NOW! CD’s from the early 2000’s most of the night. Even though I gave no indication to ANYONE that I wanted to be interrupted to dance or talk with another human, men kept interrupting me to tell me things that I didn’t want or need to hear, including confirming that even though I’m in a chair I’m still a human (thanks for that affirmation) and that IF I could get out of my chair, a completely creepy stranger would fuck me so hard. Awesome.

Lessons Learned:

1. No matter how much yoga I do, I still hate humans.
2. I don’t think it’s my fault I hate humans. Its humans' fault. 
3. Awkward dance moves and refusal to make eye contact will not prevent men from approaching me at stripclubs/aerobic studios. 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

That Time I Dated a Douchebag Doctor that Looked Like the Kid From "Up"

I know, I know. I’ve been neglecting this blog for months and I owe you stories. I’ve been hearing you all complain to me that I haven’t posted any new blogs in a while, so I would like to officially apologize for attempting to have a successful love life. Where the hell is the fun in that?

Since my last post, some things have changed. Most importantly, I left Miami and moved to Rochester where I bought a house and am working at my dream job. So these are no longer tales from a single girl in Miami – now they’re tales from a single girl in Rochester. I hope you can all cope with that. I also have somehow acquired four cats. Stop judging. Most recently I have begun meowing. I’m serious. Beyond that, everything is basically the same. I promise, now that I’m back I will give you all the stories you have missed out on over the past few months. In fact, I think we’ll start right where I left off.

So after I stopped dating the Rocket Man, this guy messages me and starts talking about physician assisted suicide and since he’s a doctor he wants to know more about my position. What?! A chance to school a doctor about the disproportionate impact of physician assisted suicide on people with disabilities?! SIGN ME UP.

We agreed to meet at a coffee shop that was a total of 3 minutes from my house because I’m not going out of my way for a date. When I arrive I see what I can only describe as an adult version of the kid from Up.

My date.

Yep. Now picture that in a white doctor’s coat and you’ve basically got this guy. Wait no. Don’t picture it, I’ve got it covered for you.

Dead ringer.

After about 5 minutes of talking to this guy I learned that he basically knows everything/ is an expert at everything. I quickly labeled this guy “Dr. Know It All.” Dr. Know It All was so into talking to himself, and the only way for me to get a word in was to talk about him - except I wasn’t really that interested in him, so instead I asked him questions about the brain since he was a neurology resident. Every question I asked he’d say things like “Well, it’s hard for me to explain because I studied this at Harvard and you wouldn’t understand the intricacies…”

“So break it down for me then.” I replied.

“Well, this is really complicated stuff. We’re talking about the human brain here…” Dr. Know It All went on.

Wait. You mean the human brain isn’t as simple as making toast? I had no idea.

After he told me how brilliant he was over and over again and how it would just be impossible for me to understand any answer he gave me about how brains work, I finally said “Listen, I get it. You have a medical degree and I don’t. I’m not a brain surgeon, I know. But instead of being a condescending douchebag maybe you could just try to explain things to me.”

For the first time since the date started Dr. Know It All stopped talking. Thank you Lord.

Then he apologized and toned down the douchebag and asked if he could take me to get a cheeseburger to make up for his douchiness. He said the magic word (cheeseburger), so I said yes.

The rest of the date was just fine, so when he asked me on a second date – and promised me another cheeseburger – I said yes.

He told me he had to work some morning shift the next day, so I tried to make our date quick but he just kept talking. He told me all about his incredible apartment in South Beach that overlooks the water and blah blah blah. Then he made a condescending remark about nurses and how they do too little work and make too much money.

That’s when my sass-o-meter went to the dangerous red zone and I verbally lashed him. I ripped him apart, noting that my best friend is a nurse and she is one of the most hardworking humans on this earth. Then this mofo tries to interrupt me and says “You don’t understand. I’m a doctor!” and, I shit you not, he began banging his fist on the table and yelling “I SAVE LIVES!”

Whoa bro. Calm your God Complex down. I am in the middle of ripping you a new asshole. Don’t you dare interrupt me.

After I take him down a few notches, remind him he’s not God, and that nurses keep patients alive too, he apologized.

The next day he texts me to ask me on another date. You for real? Were you there when I tore you apart yesterday?

He offers me Chinese at his place. He swears he knows where the good Chinese food is in Miami and because I hadn’t found good Chinese in the 10 months I was there, I was tempted. Then he started talking up his apartment again and how I would love the view.

It was a Saturday and I had nothing to do, so I figured why not? This guy wants to let me rip him apart while he feeds me? I’m down.

I arrive at his “amazing” apartment that looks like its glory days were in 1972 and the Chinese tastes absolutely terrible, so I drink more than enough wine for the both of us to get the taste of what I’m sure is tomato paste and flour in my Sesame Chicken. We were watching Scrubs while we ate and I swear every time this guy laughed it sounded like a baby pig squealing. It kind of looked like it too. I was sitting next to a giant, chubby twelve year old who squealed and clapped his hands whenever something remotely funny happened. So I drank some more.

He could tell I was not impressed, so he invited me onto his balcony to enjoy the view. While we’re out there he proceeds to tell me that his mom bought him his BMW and he’s hoping for a newer one soon. She also pays for his disco era apartment. Oh, so you’re a doctor and your mom pays your bills? Cool.

Right when I’m about to throw myself off his balcony he tells me he wants to go inside. Fine.

I tell him I’m tired but since I downed more wine than a high school girl looking to lose her virginity on prom night, I really can’t drive. He insists I sleep in his bed.

Okay. Good idea. Let me just go to sleep so I can stop listening to your voice.
I go to his room and get in bed. Then, out of nowhere, I hear him enter the room and say “I hope you don’t mind, I sleep in my underwear.”


Then this guy whips off his pants and all I see is tightie whities. MAKE IT STOP.

The kid from Up is approaching me in tightie whities and I panic. What do I do?!

So I did the only logical thing I could think of. I pretended I was a narcoleptic and went from awake to dead asleep in .2 seconds. He kept talking to me and trying to wake me up, but dammit, I was in drama club in high school and I learned to see the performance through, so I pretended to be out cold. It may not have been the best acting skills, but I was committed to my role.

The next morning I woke up disgustingly early in an attempt to get out of there quickly when Dr. Know it All wakes up and tries to make a move on me.

Excuse me? Hands off creepazoid.

I tell him it’s not happening and he asks why. I give him a number of reasons, including (1) I said no, (2) I’m allergic to latex, (3) I don’t have sex with guys I barely know, etc.

He apparently just forgets the fact that I said no and pulls out a GALLON SIZED ZIP LOCK BAG FULL OF CONDOMS.

What the hell?!!?!

He begins frantically searching through them for a latex free condom.

“Uhhh, did you miss that I said no?” I ask.

“Look, I can’t find a latex free one, but we don’t need one. You’re on birth control right?” he asks, clearly ignoring the whole “no” thing.

“I’m not sure what the hell you’re thinking,  but that’s not an option.” I tell him.

“You can trust me,” says the guys I’ve known for three days…


“Okay, I got tested a few months ago, let me just pull up the hospital database on my laptop and you can look at my medical file” he says like this is a normal thing.

“What the fuck? No. First, I’m not looking at your medical records. Second, you got tested a few months ago. Plus, I said ‘no’ remember?”

He proceeds to ignore the whole “no” thing AGAIN and tries telling me again that I can trust him.

“I’m going now,” I tell him as I head towards the door.

“Wait!” he says, “how did you like the Chinese last night?”

“It was terrible,” I tell him with my hand on the doorknob.

“Oh, that’s okay, we can order from somewhere else next time.” He was serious.

Shockingly, there was never a next time.

Abbreviated version:

A self-absorbed doctor who looked like the kid from Up asked me on a date. I went and called him out for being a douche, in response he bought me a cheeseburger. He asked me out again and I ripped him apart for talking trash about nurses.  He asked me out again, I drank to tolerate him and my terrible Chinese food, then he told me I could sleep my drunkenness off in his bed. Out of nowhere he stripped down to tightie whities and got in bed, so I played dead. The next morning he tried to convince me to have unprotected sex with him because I could “trust” him, despite the fact that I’d only known him for three days and told him no multiple times.  

Lessons Learned:

1. There is no good Chinese food in Miami.
2.  Nurses are amazing and unappreciated.
3,  The image of the kid from Up in tightie whities is IMPOSSIBLE to get out of your mind.
4. When all else fails, play dead. 

Sunday, May 11, 2014

That Time I Went on Multiple Awkward Dates Because I Didn't Want to Hurt the Guy by Saying No

Remember that time I told you that I went on a date with a rocket scientist? Well, here’s part 2 of that story.

A few days after our first date Rocket Man asked me to go to a burger/taco place with him and then get ice cream. Obviously I was in from the moment I heard “burger.”

So the Rocket Scientist who lives in Jupiter (and if you don’t think that’s hilarious then you have no sense of humor) drove to Miami just to take me on a date. While we were on our date he mentioned he was glad that he could take me out again since the old men basically stole all of my attention at the hockey game. Listen buddy, it’s not my fault those old men had more game than you.

“They didn’t have all my attention. I listened to you tell that bad joke.” I told him.

“Wow. You basically only paid attention to my worst moment. How did I get a second date?” he asked.

“You said ‘ice cream.’” I responded.

“Is that all it takes? You’ll keep dating me if I keep promising you ice cream?” he asked.

“It’ll work for a while.” I told him. I was serious.

Then Rocket Man took me to a delicious ice cream shop in Little Havana where I got a sweet plantain sundae which was amazing. We talked about Japan since he climbed Mt. Fuji and my old roommate/love of my life, Haruka, lives in Japan. Then he started to tell me about Colombia and growing up in Miami. Since his first language is Spanish I asked him to only speak Spanish to me so that I could learn. After 30 seconds I gave up on that shit and demanded English again.

I thought things had gone pretty well, but when he dropped me off he didn’t even attempt a kiss so I just awkwardly got out of the car. While I had no intention of kissing him anyway, the moment I got into my elevator I immediately texted my best friend to tell her how offended I was that he didn’t even try to kiss me and assumed that was the end of dating him.

To my surprise, he asked me on another date. So the next weekend he showed up at my apartment with flowers, candy, Arby’s, and his HBOGo password so that I could watch Game of Thrones. When I asked about the flowers and candy he told me it was his way of celebrating “Be Kind to Lawyers Day” (which is a real thing, btw). I think I may have offered to marry him at this point. I don’t really remember, I just remember being really excited to stuff my face with curly fries and watch a super pale woman-child with dragons take over some cities.

My personal hero.

We sat on my couch watching Game of Thrones and occasionally I would demand that he explain rocket science to me. Even though he’s brilliant (MIT and Stanford grad here!) he was so modest. It was really endearing. At one point I tried to convince him that spaceships had shoes. We even drew a picture so I could show him where the shoes were. It turns out those are engines, not shoes. Instead of making fun of me or giving me dirty looks for being so inept, he was a sweetheart and patiently explained everything to me.

Pretty accurate depiction of a spaceship if you ask me. 
We stayed up watching Game of Thrones and talking rocket science until 3am, and then I started falling asleep. During the entire time this mofo didn’t even try to make a move. Now, I’m not saying I wanted him to throw me on my bed and rip off my clothes, but at this point I expected at least a kiss! As I’m dozing off, Rocket Man finally leans in and pecks me on the cheek. Wtf is that? Are we in middle school on our first date at the roller rink?

I say “Are you waiting for an invitation or something?” and he hesitates for a solid 10 seconds before he finally kisses me. Umm. Okay?

Then he goes home and I seriously contemplate never seeing this guy again because, well, saying that was awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it. I assume he feels the same way because why else would he act so ridiculously uncomfortable with me?

Nope. I was wrong. He texted me the next day to ask me how I was doing. I felt bad because it’s not like there’s anything wrong with him – he’s not a jerk, he’s not offensive or a predator – he’s just a nice guy who is super awkward. So I responded to him that I was doing fine and asked him what he was doing for the day. He said something like “playing soccer, but I’ll be free after 6” and then I was like “DAMMIT! Did he take that as an invitation for a date?!” and I felt even worse, so I ended up having him over for pizza and more Game of Thrones that night which ended up being equally as awkward.

After he left my house that night (without even attempting to kiss me goodbye) I assumed that we both felt like this wasn’t happening and I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to pull the plug on this because he’s super nice and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.


Are you serious? Have you been there for our past four dates that all ended awkwardly? Am I missing something here?

He asked me to a Marlin’s game because I had previously told him how much I wanted to go to one. He remembered I said I wanted to go to a game? Dammit why does he have to be so thoughtful! It would be easy to turn down a date with a jerk, but this guy is so damn nice. WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE SO NICE?!

So I went.

When we got to the Marlin’s game there was a crowd that we were trying to navigate through and I started swerving through it because I was in a rush to get a hot dog. He said something like “I didn’t think you’d be able to get through the crowd like that with your chair. It didn’t look like there’d be enough space.”
It was an innocent comment, but I’m a sassy douche so I said “Oh, so you think I’m fat?” I was just joking around, but apparently I’m “hard to read” and the poor Rocket Man got this shocked look on his face and said “No! No!”

Then I continued by looking at a lady who was walking next to us and I said “Did you hear that? He just called me fat!”

“Honey, you’re not fat!” she told me before she turned to him and said “she’s NOT fat!”

“Thank you!” I said as I sped up and rolled away giggling.

“You can’t do that to me! That’s not fair!”  He told me as he chased after me laughing.

After that things went pretty well. We watched the game while talking about immigration laws and gun control and a bunch of other issues that are not at all relevant to baseball. Occasionally our conversation would be interrupted when the Marlin’s got a homerun and this giant, ridiculously flamboyant statute would start singing and lighting up and I think flamingos would dance and spit water. I have no idea why this statue exists, but I became an overly excited 5 year old child every time it went off.

Look at how glorious this thing is! 

These pictures don't even do it justice. I swear Lisa Frank must have created this masterpiece. 
At one point I asked him “so what’s it like to be a virgin?”

“I AM NOT A VIRGIN!” he tried to convince me.

“Right. You’re not a virgin, but you’re afraid to kiss me.”

“I’m not afraid to kiss you.”

“You’re afraid of me in general then?” I asked.

“No. I’m afraid of rejection.” He told me.

Fuck. Now I’m never going to be able to stop seeing him. I really don’t want to hurt him now.

Later that night, as we were leaving the game, we started talking to one of the Marlin’s employees who was super cool. The guy suddenly asked “Are you guys in a relationship?

At the same time that I blurted out “NO!” I heard Rocket Man say “Yeah. Kind of.”

My reaction.

Well that’s awkward.

I felt like a complete jerk. He just told me he’s afraid of rejection and I went and did that.


After that I felt so terrible that I decided that I was really going to try to like Rocket Man. Not casually “hey, you’re nice, but you’re not for me” like. No. I was going to try to go full on Helga and make him my Arnold (minus the gum shrine in the closet thing) and really like like him.

You know it's real love when you create a shrine for him out of his chewed gum. 
How did I do this? I stopped being such a douche when I texted him. Instead of giving him sass all the time I would say things like “How was your day?”  and “Sometimes I like your face, but not all of the time” (yes, that was an actual text). 

Then he asked me if he could come over and make me dinner for my birthday. I don’t know why, but this made me incredibly uncomfortable, so I made up a ton of excuses (“my oven doesn’t work” “I don’t have food in my house” “I don’t do dishes” “I get cranky when I’m hungry” “I’m picky” “I am a terrible helper”) but he INSISTED on cooking for me. Ugh. Fine.

He brought all the ingredients and a pan to cook in (because I guess he wasn’t having any of my excuses), along with candy for me to eat while he was cooking so that I wouldn’t get cranky. Damn, he’s good.
While he cooked for me I started harassing him about how he didn’t buy his mom a birthday present and that he should print a picture of him with her and frame it to give her for Mother’s Day. He smiled, nodded, and cooked like some sort of patient saint.


Later that night, right before we were about to go to sleep, I said something along the lines of “I have no idea where we stand” and he was completely silent. Awkward.

“No response?” I prodded.

“It’s just hard for me to talk about” he responded.

“Well it’s hard for me to continue dating someone who can’t talk about it.” I told him.

And then he said it.

He told me that he WAS really into me, but ever since the baseball game he felt like I was much more into 
him than he was into me and he felt guilty.

So essentially, ever since the baseball game, when I decided to start being nice to him, he thought that I was super into him.

I wish I could say I responded in some classy manner, but I just busted out laughing. I know. I’m terrible.

I told him how relieved I was because I wasn’t really into him but he was so nice that I didn’t know how to end things with him so I was so glad that he felt that way.

“Wait. You don’t like me at all?” He asked. “I like you, I just felt guilty because I thought you liked me more and I didn’t want to hurt you. You don’t like me?”

And then, like a complete jerk, I responded “I think you’re really nice.”

Awkward moment #27436342. Cool.

And then he left the next morning and we didn’t talk anymore.

Until today.

Today he texted me to say thanks for the Mother’s Day gift idea because his mom loved it. Then he followed up by telling me that he’s planning on cancelling his HBO at the end of May and he wanted to make sure I caught up on all the episodes of Game of Thrones before he cancelled it.


Abbreviated Version:
I went on multiple awkward dates with a super smart, sweet, and modest Rocket Scientist. I wasn’t super into him, but he was so nice that I didn’t know how to stop dating him because I didn’t want to hurt him. So I decided to convince myself to become super into him and I started being nicer to him. When I started being nice he thought that I was a Stage 5 Clinger. When he told me that I laughed and told him I didn’t like him. Things were super awkward, then we didn’t talk for a while, and he randomly texted me today to make sure 
that I still watch his HBO because he’s such a fucking nice guy.

Lessons Learned:
1. There are some really nice guys in the world – just not in Miami.
2. I need to learn how to stop dating people I’m not into instead of continuing to date them because I don’t want to hurt their feelings.
3. Spaceships don’t have shoes.
4. HBOGo passwords are the greatest things on earth.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

That Time I Went on a Date with a Rocket Scientist

This is probably going to be the coolest thing I’ll ever say about my dating life ever: I went on a date with a rocket scientist! Yes! That’s right! Not only did someone who is employed and speaks full sentences ask me on a date, but he’s a fucking rocket scientist. ROCKET SCIENTIST.

Let’s just take a moment to let that sink in.

Okay, so technically he's an "aerospace engineer" but I looked it up, and that basically means rocket science. Seriously, Wikipedia says so: 

I met him online (obviously) and he lives in Jupiter which is about an hour and a half away (which helps to explain how he’s employed and smart). When he first sent me a message he asked me about my views on physician assisted suicide and asked me if I wanted to go to a hockey game sometime. Think what you want about me, but any guy who wants to have an intelligent conversation with me about physician assisted suicide certainly has my attention. Actually, the fact that he could correctly spell physician caught my attention.

So we talked a little bit about PAS and its disproportionate impact on people with disabilities and I was just elated to have a conversation that didn’t involve talking about deep topics such as how much a guy can bench press or his favorite sports car or “YOLO.”

He asked me to a Panthers game and since I’m always down for a good hockey game, I said yes. We met at the stadium and right off the bat he was genuinely a nice guy. As we were going into the stadium he gives me this panicked look and said “I didn’t even think to get accessible tickets! I knew you use a wheelchair, I should have thought about it!”

Yes, the rocket scientist didn’t think to get seats where I could actually sit. So for all of you out there using the phrase “you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to…” please note that rocket scientists aren’t perfect either.

I laughed and assured him that we could just go into a wheelchair accessible section near our seats and ask if there were any open seats that we could sit it. This helped to clear the deer in the headlights look off his face.

As luck would have it, the ushers were super nice and gladly let us sit in some open seats in an accessible area right near the seats he had gotten for us. I was pretty excited because I’d never sat so close at a professional hockey game before. The best part? Our seats were also in the section where the cheerleaders danced and stuff, so the whole night I had really nice cheerleaders behind me.

Pretty good date so far, right?

Then it happened. I was talking to the Rocket Scientist about the Sabres and the Bills and Ralph Wilson (RIP) when the 50-60 year old guy next to me interrupts and says, “You talking about Buffalo sports? My friend Mike here is from Buffalo and is down for the weekend!” and points to the guy next to him who is equally as old.

Suddenly, Mike and I are talking about NY and all that good stuff and he shared his bag of peanuts with me. After a few minutes I think our conversation is over and I go back to talking to my date, but Mike isn’t having any of that. Suddenly he’s telling me about the time he wanted to go on a date with a girl and they agreed for their first date he’d go to her house and bring a pizza and they’d watch a movie. When he got to the girl’s house, she opened the door, saw how large he is, grabbed the pizza, said “you’re not my type,” and slammed the door.

Cool story Mike.

Then Mike tells me his favorite pick up lines while handing me more peanuts. (“Do you know the basic difference between sex and conversation?” “No.” “Wanna come back to my place then?”)

Awesome Mike, it’s been fun chatting, but I’m kind of on a date here.  

Then, after we ran out of peanuts, Mike tells me that he went to school in Miami and that’s how he met Clyde, his friend that heard me talking about Buffalo sports and started this whole fiasco. Thanks Clyde.

For the most part Clyde sat quietly watching the Pathers get spanked and only added in a few comments every now and then. Mike, however, moved his chair so he could sit directly behind (and eventually BETWEEN) me and the Rocket Scientist.

Kinda like this, except we were sitting at a hockey game, not walking on the beach, and I'm not J-Lo. 

Umm. Welcome to our date Mike. Nice to have you join us?

While I’m trying to be nice and have a conversation with all of the guys now that my date with the smartest guy I’ve met down here has turned into a party, my poor date probably got about 10 words in the entire night.

When the game ended, the Rocket Scientist walked me back to my car and said “We didn’t really get to talk much tonight. I think we should go on another date except without Clyde and Mike next time.”

I agreed and we ended up just talking and joking outside my car for an hour. An hour later, when I went to get in my car, we were joking about something, and I turned around to go to my car door and told him to “suck it” and as I said that he literally ran around me to open my car door for me.

“Oh my God. Here I am telling you to suck it as you rush to open my door. I’m such a douche” I told him.

“Yeah, you are,” he said, “but I’d like to take you out again anyway.”

Smart and funny? Yes, you can take me out again, sir!

We decided we’d get ice cream on Sunday.

By the time I got home an hour later I had a new Facebook friend request. Who was it? Clyde! The quiet older guy with Date Crasher Mike. I thought he was just a nice older guy who wanted a new Facebook friend, so I accepted.

Five minutes later, I got THIS surprise:

"I met you last night at the Panthers attempt to play hockey game tonight and I can't begin to tell you how much I truly enjoyed talking with you. Y ou are beautiful, intelligent, funny,and just plain great. I know I am older than you but would love to spend some time with you. If you are game I would love to take you to dinner and if not I understand but for the record you are wonderful and deserve the best. Great meeting you tonight."

This guy barely talked to me and now he wants to take me out? I’m sorry, but you could be my grandpa. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

And he didn’t give up there!

The next day I didn’t respond, so then he wrote on my wall “Did you get my message?”

Whoa buddy. Take a hint!

So I tell the Rocket Scientist about Clyde and he gets a good laugh out of it. I felt bad because I didn’t want to hurt Old Man Clyde’s feelings with my brutal honesty, so the Rocket Scientist suggested I be “honest” with him.

"Id say go about it honest.. say "im sorry but i was on a date with the guy that was with me.. Hes really awesome and i hope to see him again."

 Smooth Rocket Man.  Smooth. I like your confidence. I also like your suggestion.

So I used it and Clyde was understanding, but told me I “know how to reach” him “if things change.”

In response to his message I wrote:
 "Thanks! It was great meeting you too. While I am very flattered, I was actually on a date with the guy I was with last night and I plan on seeing him again. But thank you very much for your kind words."

He responded:
"Not a problem and good luck with the relationship. If things change you know how to reach me."
Umm. Please take a hint! How do old men not realize that they’re creepy?!?!

As for the Rocket Scientist, when I suggested we postpone our ice cream date until mid-April because I really want to go to a Marlin’s game when they play the Nationals (yes, I’m a Nats fan. Judge me) and we technically could get ice cream at the game, I learned that all the Rocket Scientist really wants to do is take me on another date without Mike.

Me: think we should get my sundae in mid April when the nationals play the Marlins at the Marlins stadium. Just throwing that out there...

Him: Hmm.. Seems like you're trying to modify our agreement, but ill accept your terms on two conditions
Him: 1) i get to take you on a second date before then
Him: 2) mike isn't coming right? :p 


So tonight he's taking me to Latin Burger where they serve burgers AND burritos. It's like he wants me to marry him or something. 

Abridged Version:

Smart guy asked me to a hockey game. We got to talk for approximately ten minutes before an old, loud talkative guy and his quiet friend took over our date. I was accidentally a douche when I was getting in my car and while my date agreed that I’m a douche, he wants to take me on another date anyway, except without the old men who took over our date. However, the quiet old man would rather just date me himself.

Lessons Learned:

1. Sometimes it’s the nice, silent guy that’s the creeper.
2. Panthers suck at playing hockey.
3. Rocket scientists are real – they’re not just fictional professionals that we compare stupid people to.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

That Time I Went to Two Bar Crawls and Realized There Are No Quality Guys in Miami

When I tell you that the selection of guys in Miami is terrible, I’m not kidding you. The quality of guys here leaves plenty to be desired. To give you an idea, let me just tell you about five guys I met in one day when I went to two bar crawls.

Bar Crawl #1
The first bar crawl I went to was a young lawyers bar crawl. The theme was “Red, Yellow, Green.” You wear red if you’re taken, yellow if you’re indecisive or some shit, and green if you’re single and want drunk creeps to hit on you incessantly. There was no choice to wear a color that says “I’m single but please don’t speak to me as I don’t want your alcohol breath on my face, your creepy hands on my shoulders, or your skeezy words crawling all over my body as you attempt to gracefully whisper them in my ear, but really just end up screaming and spitting all over the side of my face.” So I went with green.

Here’s three of the best character’s I met at Bar Crawl #1:

The Old Creepster

Apparently even when the memo clearly states “YOUNG lawyers” in the title, the point is missed by some. Perhaps the point was missed by this guy on purpose because he accepted he’s a creeper and had no shame in making young women’s skin crawl. Or perhaps the point was missed accidentally because he somehow thought that being in your mid-forties (or older) was “young.” Either way, it happened.

Because I met him once before I said hello to him at the start of the bar crawl, before he was so many drinks in that he lost count. By the fourth stop, he approached me THREE more times! The first time was to tell me that he’s had a crush on me since the day he met me. The second time was to scare the bejesus out of me when he came up behind me, rubbed my shoulders, and analyzed my personality.

It felt kind of like this, except he's not cool like Jack. 
I’m an ENFJ according to him. Who the fuck does Myers-Briggs tests on people during bar crawls? The third time was to remind me, again, that he has a crush on me. I’m in his top 5 crushes. Oh joy.

The Know-It-All Douche

At the third bar, I was sitting at a table with some new friends who were actually rather cool. We were talking when some guy comes up to our table, points at my wheelchair that is sitting beside the table, and asks about it. I smiled and told him it was mine and tried to go back to the conversation. Apparently he thought he was more important than the conversation, and started interrogating me.

Him: “Why do you use the chair? What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

Him: “Well, why do you use the chair then? How long have you been in it?”

Me: “Forever. How long have you been using your legs?”


Him: “I don’t know why you’re acting like that. I was just wondering. I do a lot of personal injury law, so I didn’t know if it was a skiing accident or something.”

A skiing accident? Is that what people think when they see people in wheelchairs? Oh, there goes another person who was in a skiing accident. Wtf?

Skiing accident.
Skiing accident.
Skiing accident. 
Me: “Because that’s really inappropriate to ask someone.”

Him: “No it’s not. I do this kind of law.”

Apparently if you do personal injury cases you are free to approach all people and ask them about their disabilities. Don’t bother asking their names first – this guy certainly never asked me my name.

We reached the point in the conversation where I wanted to incinerate him, but I could tell my friends were uncomfortable, so rather than taking this douche down a notch, I tried to change the subject. He proceeded to tell everyone his name, how amazing he was, and that should we ever run into people with personal injury issues we should refer them to him. Yep. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’d love to give you business and force other people to deal with your smug ass.

The Babyface with “long-term potential”

At the last bar on Bar Crawl #1 I was sitting with my new lovely lady friends, dealing with the Old Creepster’s occasional come-on’s, when some babyface comes out of the bathroom and sits down with us. He told us that he was just riding by on his bike and saw everyone having a good time, so he decided to join. Because Babyface looked and acted like a child I began calling him Bueller. He had no objection.

I think Bueller’s best statement was “I know I’m only 22 and you’re lawyers, and I’m just a water meter repairman, but I’m still worth your time because I like older ladies and I have long-term potential because I have a pension. I’ll be able to take care of you someday.”

Apparently still feeling very insecure, despite the fact that none of us ladies were acting like we were better than him, he told us about how he’s somehow a Kennedy. And that’s he’s REALLY smart.

“Listen, I know you think I’m just a water meter repairman” he reminded us for the fifth time, “but I’m really smart. I’ve read thousands of books.”

“What’s your favorite book?” I asked.

“I’ve read the one about the angry grapes. And that one about mangos in the street” he tells us.

“You’re naming fruit, not books.” I told him.

Then he puts his hand on my shoulder, looked me dead in the eye and said “Are we going to hook up? Do you want to take me home?”

“Well, as charming as you are Bueller, I think I’ll pass” I told him as I wheeled away.

Obviously I missed out on something great.

Bar Crawl #2
The second bar crawl I went to was in my neighborhood, Coral Gables, and, as luck would have it, also themed “Red, yellow, green.” My friend asked me to join him and his friends at the bar crawl and since he’s my only cripple friend in Miami I definitely wanted to go. It’s not often that I get to party with crips down here since most of the crips in Florida are my clients (and oddly enough I don’t want to get sloshed in front of the people who think I’m a hardworking, responsible, legal professional).

Even though he’s my friend, seeing him drunk was a completely new side of him to see, so he’s the first in my cast of characters for Bar Crawl Numero Dos.

The Sloppy Crip

My friend is a quad in a power chair. He became a quad within the last year or two, so perhaps he’s still getting used to this whole “I drive a 300 pound machine” thing, but he’s a sloppy drunk that gave a bad name to ALL crips that night. First, let me state that I love this kid, but dear Lord, he’s a sloppy ho. As we were leaving one bar and going to the other, he straight up was driving his chair into brick walls. What the hell are you doing bro? There’s a BRICK WALL there! I mean, our power chairs can take out a lot of shit (lord knows I’ve taken down plenty of things) but they cannot take out brick walls. Just no.

I yell at him to stop making crips look like reckless drivers, he buys me a drink at the next bar, and we all start to dance. Fine by me. We’re all dancing and having a jolly time when at random he decides he wants to back up at full speed! HELLO WE’RE ON A CROWDED DANCE FLOOR! That’s like seeing a crowd of people at a concert and deciding you want to put a blindfold on and hit the gas of your car and just see what happens. People fucking fly. THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS!

I mean, come on, even if you’re walking, you look behind you before you back up so you don’t bump into someone, right? Nope, not this kid. He just plowed through people like they were bowling pins.

Every person on the dance floor.
Then, when we go to leave, he decides that he doesn’t want to go through the segregated, wheelchair accessible back entrance. More power to you bro. I wasn’t thrilled about the Jim Crow entrance either. But instead of gracefully going out the front door that had one step, mofo plows through the door and straight into a bush. Oh dear lord. After the security guard and four other people help him out of the bush, I go to leave the front entrance and they think I’m going to make a similar mess.

“Step aside boys” I tell them as I drive my chair down the front step like the fucking pro I am.

His friends then decide my criptastic friend is far too drunk to keep partying. So we begin walking back to his car when suddenly Mr. Criptastic (semi-fantastic) decides he wants to play speedracer down the sidewalks of Miracle Mile. Usually I’d be fine with this because I’m always going full speed in my chair, but I’m also not plowing through people like I get 5 points for each one I hit. Luckily my chair is faster than his, so I passed Speedracer and cornered him to ensure he wasn’t endangering these poor human bowling pins. But then suddenly he’s back to trying to take out brick walls.


A few brick walls and some scared pedestrians later, we finally got him in his van & he went home.

The Lap Dancer That Doesn’t Know My Name

At some point before my crip friend started a fight with a bush, we were all having a fine time on the dance floor. I started talking to some guy who was decent looking and slightly entertaining. He introduced me to his friend as “the best fucking chick I’ve met all night.” I believe that was a fair assessment. His friend then bombarded me with questions about where I was all night (umm, at another bar crawl getting hit on by an old man and Ferris Bueller) and what I do. Blah blah blah. Suddenly I’m learning all about how he’s a lawyer (tax law – snooze) and he just LOVES life. How profound.


Excuse me sir, but just because I BYOC (bring my own chair) and sit in it, that is not an invitation for a lap dance. I will not tip you for this. I do not think it’s sexy, in fact, I think it falls more into the category of assault.

 “Whoa! I didn’t ask for a lap dance! You shouldn’t be sitting on me, you should be carrying me!” I told him.

I shouldn't have said that because then Mofo picked me up and half carried, half-danced with me. After 10 seconds I told him to put me down, but he kept going throughout the entire song of “Timber” and even created a “dance move” of pretending to drop me every time Kesha said “It’s going down.” If you think that’s fun, it’s not.

As I went to leave, he asked me for my number, telling me I was the “coolest girl ever.”

“What’s my name?” I asked.

“Umm…” he replied.

“You want my number, but you don’t know my name?” I asked.

“You can put it in my phone” he told me.

“Fine,” I said as I grabbed his phone. I put my number in and for “name” I wrote “What’s Her Name?”

“Don’t call me until you know my name.” I told him as I rolled away.

Needless to say I haven’t heard from him.

Abridged version:
Two bar crawls, five guys. 1. Old creepster that has had a crush on me since the day he met me. 2. Douche that think’s he has a right to ask people about their disabilities and I’m rude for not answering him. 3. Ferris Bueller who has a pension and long-term potential. 4. Sloppy drunk crip who would have about 450 points if he got 5 points for every person he hit. 5. Short guy who thinks I’m cool but doesn’t know my name.

Lessons Learned:
1. There are no quality guys in Miami
2.  Surprise lap dances are not cool.
3.  I can see why some people are afraid of wheelchair users now.