Hi Ho. Hi Ho. It's Off To WORDPRESS I go!

I am spending the weekend trying to decide if I want to switch over to wordpress. Because all the cool kids are doing it.

If there are no posts here for awhile, it's probably because I'm camping out there.

Take the red pill and join me. Or take the blue pill and stay here exactly where you are. Remember, all I'm offering you is the blog. Nothing more. (Oooh, that just sounded all kinds of bonkers to anyone who hasn't seen The Matrix, huh?) Read more!

You're The One Who Slept With A Fat Guy for Tiger Woods Tickets

Here is the true story of 2 people picked to have a very brief relationship, over social norms of race and size, and have their encounter exposed in a blog to see what happens when people stop being polite and start having sex for Tiger Woods tickets. The Real World. Fat Guy.

In my mind, the latency of my first real date is a result of a high school boy's unshakeable preoccupation with a woman's exterior. It's the same with cars. Boys kick tires, picture riding her down an open road, showing her off to his friends, slapping their paws when they reached to touch her. The boy only looks under the hood when there is something wrong with her. I wanted the guys who looked under the hood first. And I wouldn't NOT date someone just because of their looks.

Carrie had Mr. Big. Samantha had Mr. Too Big. I had Mr. Real Big.

Real Big and I were introduced when I was being the dutiful wingwoman for my college roommate. She was all hot after his linebacker-turned-fireman roommate and I was left to entertain the buddy. I have no idea how big Real Big was. Erik from the Biggest Loser is a pretty close match. Real Big was not a bad-looking guy. He was a golf pro and had a strict wardrobe of khakis, polos, shined dress shoes, and Titleist hats. I avoided making a connection between the fact that he was from Texas and his neck was always sunburned simply because I loved his accent. He tipped his hat, pulled out chairs, opened doors, danced at clubs without employing the "white man's overbite" or embarrassing me. He always paid for whatever I wanted, offered to teach me to golf, said "y'all" and called me "little lady". Plus he had a goatee and promised to get me tickets to see Tiger Woods play at his course in a couple months, so I was all in.

See, the tickets came WAY before the sex!

My school was 2 hours away from him, but we talked on the phone and, since our roommates were riding the hobby horse, I saw him just about every weekend. We danced, we drank, and just had a good time. He was close to his family and talked about bringing me home to meet them. Said he'd tell anyone who had a problem with me being black to fuck off. I felt protected. And safe. And adored. Which, when combined, are bigger aphrodisiacs than cheesecake and oysters. We made plans for what we would do after I graduated. I invited him to my sorority function, ready to introduce my sisters to my lovely new man. His size was never really an issue for me. My roommate razzed me about possibly having sex with him and I assured her that, as long as I was on top, things were going to be fine. Because sex, for me, is an equal measure of how he makes me feel outside and inside the bedroom. Or car. Hotel. Park. Movie theater...

Then he took a nip of the crazy juice.

One night he decides that he is not ready to be in a committed relationship. It's all going too fast and he wants to slow things down. Clearly, he didn't get the memo that playing the hard-to-get-commitment-phobe is only cute on Jason Lewis and Matthew Fox. I suspect some bored housewife looking to spice up her afternoon and piss off her husband by diddling the golf pro spurred the sudden change of heart. I wasn't so invested that I cared much. But I did think it was weird when he called the next day to ask if I was still going to visit him the following weekend. As friends. Plus, he still wants to give me those tickets to see Tiger Woods play at his club.

Real Big is, afterall, a Texas gentleman, y'all.

Sure, I'll visit him. I needed to go shopping for a dress for my sorority function anyway, so I will be killing too birds with one stone. Something must've happened with Bored Housewife because he had a huge change of heart. What was he thinking. I was such a great person. We are great together, blah, blah, blah. I'm the Queen of Second Chances, so sure. He poured on the romance and we did the deed that night.

And it was bad.

Mainly because my idea of him had changed. He went from being this really sweet, gentile, mannered guy to this to fat guy in tiny red bikini briefs. He went from the lovable Biggest Loser Erik to Eric Cartman. When he started snoring, I creeped out and planned to never see him again.

But I forgot the dress for my sorority function. And it become a hostage while we negotiated the terms of our separation. Eventually one of my sister's dates swung by his house and picked it up.

I never did see Tiger Woods.
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Blog Nerves

1. So, my boss would come into my office at the EXACT moment I am reading 7 People Fired for Blogging . Awesome. I just put 'Update Resume' on my TO DO list.

2. Non-encounter with one of my favorite bloggers has me vaciliating about putting my picture on the blog. In my mind, this is what would have happened had I approached her-
ME: Hey, you write that blog I love!
Unsuspecting blogger: (silence)
ME: Remember when you ate at Chili's and the food runner thought the steak and ribs was for your boyfriend and the salad was for you? That was funny!
Unsuspecting blogger: (silence)
ME: OK...Have a nice dinner!

3. What if I someone I respect in this industry tells me that I am a shitty writer and I'd be better off auctioning my sweet ass on eBay?

4. What if the IT guy reads my blog? Does he like it?

5. What if there some device that tracks the amount of time I spend working on my blog at work? I mean, it is slow in the office this time of year, but I guess I could be doing something more productive. Like forwarding porn to my friends.

6. So when you just stick up a YouTube video it looks like you're not even trying? Crap! I gotta go back and edit my posts.

7. I think the site meter is tracking the times I log on. Actually it may be only 2 people checking out my site and the rest is me. Shit.

8. Why are so many people switching from blogger to wordpress?

9. How the heck do I make my background more interesting?

10. Geez, why didn't I major in Journalism or English in college?? If I could go back and do it all over again.... Read more!