Here we GO!

This was the year - or so my horoscope said.  I was to be debt free, career was to take off and I was going to fall in love!  Well it is June, half way through this 'life changing year' and so far due to work related circumstances out of my control I am $8000 in debt with the company, a spineless victim of a girl is suing me, I've been kicked out of my house, am no longer speaking to my father and currently at the OLD age of 31 I share not only a room, but also a bed with my mother.  I was told "lucky moneybags Jupiter was going to be sitting directly across from my sign", and if he is, he is totally ignoring me, which is just plain RUDE! To top it off the dry cleaners lost my pants last week and my tires actually blew up while I was driving across the bridge. Welcome to the Kronikles of Klassy Kass!

Where to start – maybe my living situation which despite everything is quite a positive situation, however still embarrassing to admit. When I explain where I live I get this look, the “I thought you were a successful business woman” – well, success is in the eye of the beholder, and I am not widely successful, but definitely middle of the pack. But I am a business owner meaning between my business and my travel/shoe habits my wallet is basically anemic.

But I am off topic – My living quarters: imagine the Golden Girls but 30 years earlier.  The owner of the house Betty White’s character, Rose (ya, I know Blanche was the owner – stop picking on the details) is uncannily similar.  She is a recent divorcee who is hopelessly optimistic, no mountain is too high to climb with a broken ankle carrying the donkey on her back because she feels everyone and everything should enjoy the challenge type of optimism and straight out gullible – cannot help but mess with her sometimes.

Then there is my cousin who is our Blanche.  She’s our own little Southern Bell – tis what happens when you grow up the richest/ prettiest girl from a prairie town of 800 (can tell you this place is quite the little metropolis).  Let’s just put it this way, she might have been “let go” from her summer position at the golf course in her early twenties for a Blanche like indiscretion with the much older owner of the club house – quite the little scandal.

Then there is me and my mother – aka Dorthy and Sophia.  I share a room with the woman, need I say more about our character similarities?! Although my mother is not cynical or bitter (yes a DNA test has proven she really is my mother and the hospital did not screw up – where my what some call “sarcastic personality” comes from I don’t know).  But that is it, a house comprised of two divorcees and two who have been strongly urged by doctors to be on meds.  Never a dull moment.

This week was an exciting week!  I had a date.  This is a good thing and a bad thing.  It is a good thing because it gives me hope that I will not die alone once all the other golden girls leave me (including my mother who I am sure is plotting her escape), but bad because I don’t date.  I become this awkward mess of a girl who rambles, cannot make eye contact and is straight out awkward.  He had gotten my number on the weekend at a mutual friend’s house party.  All the dating etiquette was strictly observed.  Text the next day saying nice to meet me, a phone call on the Monday asking me out for that week – and then the very nicely worded brush off text today.  Ah perfection at its best.  No, this was not a completely disastrous date; it was actually really nice.  First he showed up with an ‘N’ on his car and blamed it on his brother and then curbed the car parallel parking (sure it was your brother’s sticker).  I joke, this guy was everything a girl has on her check list: hot, accomplished, smart, caring, complimentary, he fricken volunteers with inner city kids, no he is a gem – but alas it was not there – that spark, that Va Va Voom.  We sat and talked for four hours and it was really enjoyable, but obviously from his very nice text he felt the same. This illusive va va voom is a real pain in my ass.  After wading knee deep through douche bags in this city, you find one with everything on your list and – BAH! It is not there.  And believe me I am not hung up on the check list.  No my check list is what most would call sub-standard - and my very few exes are the proof (if you can even call them Exes – does 4 dates make them an Ex?  Lets just call them men I have slept with – no no cannot do that because now it goes from few to … well many. Whatever, who needs labels).   The check list consists of traits such as: employed, literate, not a midget – not really asking for a lot – but this VaVaVoom.  It is also does not help that I have Daddy issues that would make me a prime contender as one of Charlie Harpers many ladies.  But those are stories for another time.  No it was an exciting week because I had a date, with a lovely gentleman of outstanding moral character, finally.  But alas it means nothing because it is going no where.  Have to say those recommended prescription drugs are looking better and better everyday.

Love Klassy Kass