2 Up. 2 Down. Flag on the Play.

Online Dating | Point and Laugh No Comments

This weekend I was the personal attendant in the wedding of a dear friend of mine. The experience was truly a blast and a blessing.

Now, as many of you already know, I was born boy crazy. Turns out, there were some guys around this weekend.

Thursday evening I met the some of the bridal party downtown for dinner and then shenanigans at UpDown. When Iiceberg talk first arrived to dinner I sat next to a friend of the groom. He was very personable and we casually made conversation….and it’s possible I noticed he was cute, so it was nice to sit next to him. After about 10 minutes, he noticed I hadn’t ever gotten a drink and asked if I wanted something. Friends, that’s when it really happened; I knew he loved me. As the night went on we all continued to have a great time, laughing and playing games. My future husband and I had some things in common: He’s in secondary education and loves reading… yada yada yada…true love.

At the end of the night he gave me a side hug (leaving room for the holy spirit and all) and as I drove home I began to ponder just how our relationship would work with us living in different states.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!!?!? Guys, I didn’t even know his last name! I’d already named our first 3 kids (last name pending).

Apparently guys shouldn’t be nice to me…ever….unless they want to marry me.

Anyway, I played it cool all weekend: I didn’t dedicate any songs to him or try to give him any earrings….no grand gestures. (If you didn’t read that hilariously embarrassing post then please click here)

That’s the good news.

Now I gotta share the bad news about something that happened to me at the reception.

At some point in the night, a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman began to chat me up…and asked me to dance several times. Throughout the night we made conversation and danced together. I was excited. I couldn’t believe someone found me appealing enough to intentionally pay this much attention to me.

I just didn’t know what to think.

At one point, my new friend said he was going to step outside and smoke a cigar, and perhaps leave from there if I’d like to join him.

Most people who know me know how I feel about secondhand-smoke, but also, I was not about to go outside alone with this guy, no matter how kind he had been to me.
He asked again, and I again declined, but mustering all my confidence stated, “No, but if you want my number you can just ask for it.”

This man who’d been approaching me all night, taking my hand while dancing both to slow and fast songs, and chatting me up, suddenly had a change in tone: He put his hands to his chest and spoke to me as though I were the fool, and said “Oh. I’m sorry. Did I…?? I’m married.”

I turned his hands over and showed them to him to call his attention to the lack of a ring, and said “Really?!”

He replied, “Well, let me ask you this, if I wasn’t married would you consider me?”

I stated, “I don’t have time for that game…and they’re playing Miley, so I gotta go!”

I made my way to the dance floor and continued having a blast with my friends and the other amazing people at the reception.great man

For at least 3 hours he intentionally mislead me and wasted my time, so it appears that for as much heat as single people take for trying online dating, that this “in-person” stuff isn’t as great, either.

It’s frustrating. It’s hurtful. And it makes me leery to try at all.

Thankfully, my life is great, and although I would love to find companionship and be married again, my happiness does not depend on it.

Thanks for reading!


This weekend I was the personal attendant in the wedding of a dear friend of mine. The experience was truly a blast and a blessing. Now, as many of you already know, I was born boy crazy. Turns out, there were some guys around this weekend. Thursday evening I met the some of the bridal […]

How Kathy Ireland, The Breakfast Club, and Londonbeat Made Boys Love Me…Or Not

Embarrassing Moments | Point and Laugh 2 Comments

Last night I posed a question to my best friend KT about how she seemed to be so much more mature for, like, her entire life, as compared to others (namely me).

We agreed her parents were wonderful, as are mine.

We agreed we both learned from the adventures of our older siblings.

We agreed on the role of friends (or lack thereof for dear, sweet KT) in playing a part…..


We could name some differences
KT contends she is shy and I am not. This was a little difficult for me to accept, but as I am the one who smiles at other people in cars and strikes up conversations with strangers, well, anywhere (and she will tell you I will honk, from the passenger seat, at drivers trying to kill us)….basically, I’m not shy…whatever.

Teen Girl Squad!

Teen Girl Squad!

I think I landed on the critical difference with two words: BOY and CRAZY.

That is an accurate description of me, and although KT and I can agree everyone once in a while on which fellas make our heart beat fast (Henry Cavill, Chris Hemsworth, Tom Welling…super heroes, apparently), there is a defining symptom of my particular brand of “boy craziness.”

From a young age I was very willing to make the “grand gesture” to get a boy’s attention.

For your reading pleasure (and proof) I present 3 pieces of evidence:

1) There was a boy who grew up about 3 blocks away from me. He lived in the nicer part of the neighborhood. He is one of the few people with whom I went to school K-12 (maybe 20 people). A great deal of that time I was convinced we would be married. I think this started because our last names start with the same letter and alphabetically, he was usually right after me. His name was tough for some teachers to pronounce and I was usually the one correcting the teacher when the emphASis was put on the wrong syllABle. The poor guy didn’t even get a break from me in the summer as we belonged to the same swim club. (HHCC!)

We’ll call him “H.”

Anyway, over the years I collected facts about H (not on purpose; it’s just part of who I am). One of these facts is that he was gaga over super model Kathy Ireland. Some time during our middle or high school years I saw that Ms. Ireland was going to be on Dave Letterman and being the KIND AND THOUGHTFUL (not at all creepy or scary) I Very 90s!called him to tell him so he could stay up late and watch it.

But wait, there’s more…

When I called, no one answered but I got the answering machine. Think mid 1990s so it was a FAMILY answering machine.

I identified myself (for the whole family) and explained that I knew of his affection for Kathy Ireland and she would be on Dave Letterman that night…so he wouldn’t miss it.

I’m still waiting on the call back to hear what he thought.

2) For this story I need you to understand how influential movies are in our culture…but also know they ruin real life. I have a brother who is 5.5 years older. His favorite bands were my favorite bands (Michael Jackson, U2, Goo Goo Dolls).** His favorite movies were my favorite movies (Say Anything, The Breakfast Club).

This story actually combines BOTH of those movies….with a 5th grade Lisa…oh, it’s glorious.

My 5th grade self was head over heels for a boy (Move aside H!) whose name had 5 letters and 4 of them were vowels. We’ll call him “G” as that was the sole consonant.

Some time during 5th grade G said he was moving.


Before he left I HAD to be sure he knew of my undying affection. The best way to do this was to make him a farewell gift.

I can’t remember all the items in the package, but two were memorable.

1) A single diamond (read cubic zirconia) earring stud (shout out to Claire Standish and John Bender)


2) A copy of the GREATEST love song ever: Bryan Adam’s “Everything I do (I do it for you)”

I know, right?! Totally memorable.

One liiiiitle problem. I was in 5th grade. I couldn’t just go out and spend $2.99 on the cassette single. Also, if you tried to record it from the radio it would be interrupted by the DJ or another song.

No, the only choice was to record it from the speaker on the TV as it played over the credits of Robinhood: Prince of Thieves starring Kevin Costner.

lloyd doblerThe only way to achieve this was to hold up my little stereo (a la Lloyd Dobler) to the speaker on the TV while the VHS played the song….duh.

One evening, before we had to return the video to Blockbuster, I attempted to carry out my plan; however, my parents wouldn’t cooperate and kept TALKING OVER MY RECORDING!


Once my mom figured out what I was doing she quickly put the kibosh on my plan.

Don’t worry! Even though I couldn’t give him the beautifully wrapped box and all of its bounty, I still think I handed him the single CZ stud earring.

He immediately took it, poked it through his ear to make a hole, and we got married and lived happily ever after.

Or not.


And last, but certainly not least; my last bit of anecdotal evidence:

3) You know, DJs weren’t always reliable with playing your personal dedications on the air, so sometimes, you gotta take matters into your own hands.

And I did.

I called this crush, sometime in elementary school, to play him my personal dedication. “D” was a year older than me, and his younger brother was in my class.

Despite my googly-eyed stares as our classes passed in our single file lines on the way to restroom, or PE, or the library, D never seemed to notice me.

It was time to change that, and I knew just the song to turn his head my way:
“I’ve Been Thinking About You” by Londonbeat was going to help me “shi-pow-pow” my way into his heart.

(Just fast forward to 1:09 on that video)
This likely involved some more intense recording shenanigans, but D was worth it; our love was worth it.

I very clearly recall being at my Grandma Sinele’s house one weekend afternoon. I had my stereo ready and I called D’s house and asked for him.

D came to the phone (corded, duh) and I said I had a song to play for him.

I let Londonbeat do the talking after that.

Once the song ended I put the phone back up to my ear and heard the loud blare of the noise that meant D had hung up the phone…like a while ago.

I was certain he was on his way to find me and hold my hand.

I was wrong.


And there you have it, my friends. Three different love stories…tragic, in the most embarrassing of ways.

I hope you enjoyed them. (and stay tuned because “D” will play a role in another embarrassing moment I plan to share from my 2nd grade school wide Spelling Bee experience)

And I hope you know that I have to fight my nature most days so as not to create more stories.

My guess is that at age 34 they would be less “grand gesture-y” and more “creepy stalker-y.”

C’est la Vie!



**These decades old music interests may no longer accurately reflect my super cool brother’s music tastes at the current time…whatever.

Last night I posed a question to my best friend KT about how she seemed to be so much more mature for, like, her entire life, as compared to others (namely me). We agreed her parents were wonderful, as are mine. We agreed we both learned from the adventures of our older siblings. We agreed […]

“A Series of Unfortunate Events” aka Just a Typical Story of 4 Days of My Life

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Many times in my life I have stated that I am God’s practical joke.  I don’t mean this to convey that I think God is cruel or that He amazingnessmakes bad things happen to me on purpose purely for His amusement. I mean that sometimes weird/annoying/inconveniently humorous things happen in my life and they seem to make others laugh (and I can totally handle them).

They make me laugh, too.

On their own they’re not always funny, but, as with this week’s experiences, once you get to 4 in a row, if you’re not laughing about it all, then you need a new perspective. Thankfully, I’m laughing, but I also tend to welcome a new perspective (so smoke’em if you got’em).

Wednesday was the first day staff in my district had to report after summer break. As usual, I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before (moving bedtime from 1am to 10:30pm takes some time), so after the end of a great day I was ready to rest.

I went to the Chiropractor as we are trying to nurse my intercostal strain/neuralgia back to the point that I can exercise without wanting to die.  After leaving the chiropractor I decided to take the back roads home and avoid the highway. I was talking to a friend with whom I used to work and telling her how well the day had gone when I heard a loud “ping.” Didn’t think much about it since I’d just gone through a Google Fiber installation zone, but about a mile down the road I realized my tire was making noise. I pulled over to look at it and could hear the loud hissing even without opening the door. All I could see was a gold spot in the tire about the size of a pencil eraser.

I called my dad, because in 33 years of life this was my first flat tire. I knew I could change it on my own (and YES, I would’ve had to Google it to be sure I was doing it right….the irony of Googling how to change a flat tire after acquiring the flat tire driving through a Google Fiber utility area should not be lost on anyone here) BUT what I didn’t know was if I should drive home or drive straight to an auto store. Thankfully he was close by and pulled in behind me within a few minutes.

Oh, and I am not kidding, but the light at 64th and N. Prospect skipped my line of cars 3 times while I sat there needing to pull over. For real.


One of those things impaled my tire.

Anyway, dad pulled in behind me and called saying I definitely needed to pull over. We stopped at Pleasant Valley Park (under a shade tree as directed) and began to change my tire. It’s hard to change your tire when the lug wrench the owner’s manual is depicting in its drawing of your trunk is not included. Dad’s lug wrench didn’t fit, so he drove home to get tools. I was tired and hungry, but it had been a really great day, and this was truly a minor problem in the world when you consider, well, all the problems in the world.

After pulling out the 5 inch drill bit we got the tire fixed for free (Thank you Sam’s Club membership) and went home. End of story…


The next morning I woke up well before my alarm, with again, not enough sleep, but I was mad and my thoughts were racing, so I just got up and got ready. I live in a triangle made by 3 major highways. It makes my 60 mile (roundtrip) commute much more tolerable. As I was turning onto the entrance ramp to 435 everyone was slamming on their breaks. There’s not usually a backup that far north, so I felt the typical irritation most people feel with rush hour traffic before my heart dropped into my toes.

Everyone was breaking because two big dogs were darting across the entrance ramp straight toward the interstate with cars rushing past at 80 miles an hour. No one was stopping!

Why weren’t they stopping?!?

I slammed my car in to park (which it didn’t appreciate) and jumped out of my car. The dogs had turned and started running straight down the entrance ramp at full speed. They were getting farther and farther away from me.

Thankfully something in the ditch got their attention and they started eating it (gag). I didn’t know what to do so I bent over and patted my ample thighs as loudly as I could and used my best dog-lover voice and yelled “Who’s a good boy?!?!”

That got their attention. Their heads lifted up and turned my way and I said “Come here!”

They came bounding toward me with their tongues hanging out and tails wagging. Thankfully the other cars entering
the highway avoided them as they were large enough to knock me over while jumping on me and circling me. One of them had a collar on so I grabbed it and put them both in my back seat (far away from the 3 containers of baked goods in my front floorboard).

None of the 3 tags on the collar had a personal number so I called the 888-number on one of them. I gave them the long number from the tag and was told the dog’s name was Cooper. They put me on hold while they contacted the owner. After a minute or so they connected us and the female voice on the other end of the phone said “Hi! You have my dog?”


Stoeger and Boulder. Sweet boys!

I replied “Yes! I have both of them.”
She said “I only have one dog.”
Me: “Oh. You don’t have a black lab, too?”
Her: “No. I have one min pin.”

My heart sank because, as you can see, neither of these dogs are a Miniature ANYTHING let alone a Pincer. I apologized and we hung up.

I called the 888 number again and was put on hold while they connected the correct owner. At the same time I was receiving a call from the 888-number who AGAIN put me through to the frantic owner of the min pin. 🙁 I had to let her down a second time.

Eventually I was connected to the real owner who was already 45 miles away at work. She said I wouldn’t be able to get them in the gate at her house, but said she had a friend across from where she used to live who could take the pups. She told me her old address and I knew right where it was because it was JUST around the corner from my house. As I took the pups to their human friend I realized I was taking them to a man who was the father of a college friend. Small world.

The good news is that Stoeger and Boulder were returned and I was only 30 minutes late to work on my 2nd day. 🙂

Thursday evening I posted this status on Facebook: “After a flat tire last night and an interstate dog rescue this morning, I’m hopeful for an uninteresting commute to and from work tomorrow.”

I should’ve known better.

So Thursday night I talked to my friend Corrie about the Global Leadership Summit she’d attended at our church that day with my dad. While telling me how cool it was she also told me she had lost her blood glucose meter at the church. I told her where the lost and found was so she could hopefully easily locate it the next day.

The next morning, Friday, I was ready to leave by 7 because I had to get gas before meeting my friend at our carpooling spot. I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door, but I couldn’t find my keys in my purse. I dug through it again. It’s not a big purse, but as with most purses, I can never find my keys. They weren’t there. I dug through my work bag. Nope. I checked the pants I wore the day before. Nope. I went out to my locked car and visually located my keys in the pocket of the bag in the passenger seat.

My dad and I looked everywhere for my spare key, but it couldn’t be easily located. My dad was able to call and get a ride to the summit for that day so he let me take his car. While driving to the carpool location I called Corrie to ask if there was coffee at the Leadership Summit (for a friend) and to tell her about locking my keys in the car. She laughed hysterically and told me that I am the only person this stuff happens to….Yes. I know. :p

After a few minutes my friend had arrived so we could ride the rest of the way in to work, so I hung up with Corrie and reached into the back seat so we could access the extra drink holders. As I did that I noticed Corrie’s blood glucose meter in the back seat of my dad’s car…which he would have been able to return to her if he could have taken his own car to the Summit.


People always say things happen in 3s. Well, today we had #4 on the list of “Weird things that keep happening to Lisa.” So “people” are wrong. :p

Today I had to go to the store to pick up a prescription. I decided to pick up a few other things so I grabbed a basket and headed to the chip aisle.


Aisle 11. Chips and Drinks….and DANGER!

Listen, I am not proud of it, but I particularly enjoy the Cheetos/Doritos combo of hot chips. There are certain times of the month that a gal has cravings and she will give into them. Today was that day. My uterus was commencing with its monthly, gut-wrenching torture, and those chips were my priority. As I perused the rows of chips I noticed a younger 20-something woman walking toward me. She was scowling as she grabbed some Cheddar Cheese Ruffles. I thought to myself, “I know that feel, sister” as I could somehow sense she was also in her monthly moment of need. She didn’t acknowledge my presence until after she passed me by and heard me exclaim “Oh…whaaaohoiahaohoah!”


Please note that I refused to use a picture of him in a donkey uniform.

Actually, it took her a good 20 seconds to ask if I was ok, but in all fairness, she probably thought I was Tebowing. Eventually she asked if I was ok.

Look at that picture really closely and you’ll see there’s a liquid on the tile floor. That picture was taken in aisle 11 at Price Chopper. One of my talents is finding a small amount of liquid and slipping on it, which I did today. There was a stream of it all the way down the aisle I had already walked through, so I saved my fellow frowny female from suffering the same fate. I choose to believe the liquid was tea or coffee.

I’m home now and the ice pack is alternating between my left ankle and my right wrist (and my ribs per the intercostal strain referred to earlier). I’m just gonna stay home for a while.

Many times in my life I have stated that I am God’s practical joke.  I don’t mean this to convey that I think God is cruel or that He makes bad things happen to me on purpose purely for His amusement. I mean that sometimes weird/annoying/inconveniently humorous things happen in my life and they seem […]

So it Doesn’t Refer to Extra Skin on Your Arm?

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Once, when I was a little girl, I had been playing in my Grama Hayden’s back yard with my friends. Well, Grama called me inside and we were talking and I told her “We’re playing like I got raped.”

My Grama was clearly a poker player (probably not really) because she didn’t even flinch and just asked “Oh, and what does that negative IQmean?”

So I told her it means you get stabbed “like this” and I shoved my hand between my arm and chest (like in my armpit a la the Molly Shannon Catholic Girl character). I’m certain she did not correct me because I was under 10 years old, but looking back I think she handled it like a pro!

A handful of years later I was in Key Largo, Florida with my parents and brother. It was the year Prince released “Gett Off” as a single. I am a fan of Prince, but I know that I was about 10 years old when that song came out, and it is COMPLETELY inappropriate for a 10 year-old. Anyway, 10 year-old clueless Lisa was walking around this really nice resort with her older brother while repeatedly singing (in a deep bass voice) the one line from the song that was stuck in her head “Twenty-Two positions in a One Night Stand.”
I remember my brother eventually saying to me “Stop singing that. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

He was right.

And I am retroactively embarrassed for my pre-adolescent self.

So that brings us to tonight.  My friend, Jen, came over to borrow a crock-pot. She is highly allergic to kitties, so she couldn’t come in, but I asked if she wanted to sit outside and have a beer. As we sat in the back of my mom’s SUV we mused at how our lives were so wonderfully on track (30-somethings, unmarried, living at home…you get the point), I began to imitate the harmonica part of a song that was stuck in my head. Apparently I should not try to make a career out of impersonating a harmonica because Jen could not recognize the tune or even that I was making harmonica sounds. This led me to pretend to play lots of other instruments like the bass, trombone, drums, trumpet, and a flute.

straw violinI said “My mom plays the flute.”
Jen: “She does?”
Me: “Yep. In the Hallmark band. So I know the flute parts to every Christmas and patriotic song. They have a patriotic concert later this month. You should come.”
Jen: “They play concerts?”
Me: “Yep. They even have a Christmas concert and Santa comes. It’s a big deal.”
Jen: “Does Santa play an instrument?”
Me: “Nope. Well maybe the skin flute.”

Jen laughed and I said “I don’t even know what that means. Isn’t it like extra skin on your arm or something?”

And this is the moment Jen began to laugh so hard she was crying and couldn’t breathe. I joined in because she was laughing so hard and that is contagious.

Through my laugh-tears (see what I did there?) I said “So that’s not what it means?”

And she laughed harder.

Eventually she told me what it actually means. (You can go to Urban Dictionary and look it up. I’d suggest you DO NOT Google it)


Not only did I sully Santa’s sweet image, I fear I may have also used this phrase over the years at highly inappropriate times (at school/work or church or in mixed company).

I can’t be sure of it, but please consider this my apology if I have ever used that phrase in your presence.

I’m sorry.

And I hope you had a good laugh from reading this.

<3 Lisa

Once, when I was a little girl, I had been playing in my Grama Hayden’s back yard with my friends. Well, Grama called me inside and we were talking and I told her “We’re playing like I got raped.” My Grama was clearly a poker player (probably not really) because she didn’t even flinch and […]

I Can Tell Time. Don’t be Jealous.

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find joyFor real, my job is awesome for so many reasons, and it’s always the small moments that make it great.

Today, just in this one day, there were so many heart-happy moments.

Awesome KIDisms today:
Overheard 1st and 2nd grade boys:
Kid 1:”Do not say that word.”
Kid 2:”Yeah. It’s inappropriate; especially for us.”
Kid 1: “My sister said that word and she spent the REST of the day in her room.”
So I walked over and whispered to one kid “You are not in trouble, and I heard you giving some really great advice, but I was just wondering what the bad word was. Will you whisper it to me?”children are
Kid 1: “It’s the ‘down there’ word.” (Points down which could mean too many things)
Me: “Oh, is it? Which word?”
Kid 1: “Hell.”
So, for the record, if you say “Hell” in this kid’s house you are spending the rest of the day in your room.

While teaching a lesson about honesty I asked a class to imagine that the coolest 2nd grader in the world moved to our school and was going to be in their class. Before I could continue a boy said, “Um. I’m already here….”

When finishing that same lesson I knew I was running out of time and there were lots of hands in the air. I said, “Friends, I see a lot of hands in the air but only 6 minutes left till dismissal…”
A little girl gasped and exclaimed “You can tell time!!!”
Indeed kiddo, indeed. In all fairness, they are all learning to read clocks this week…

Seriously, working in schools with kids is, like, the best thing ever.

For real, my job is awesome for so many reasons, and it’s always the small moments that make it great. Today, just in this one day, there were so many heart-happy moments. Awesome KIDisms today: Overheard 1st and 2nd grade boys: Kid 1:”Do not say that word.” Kid 2:”Yeah. It’s inappropriate; especially for us.” Kid […]

I Will NOT Cry Over Crackers!

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Listen, educators are hassled for many things, and one of those things is that we get breaks (summer, winter, spring, snow days). I will wager that almost zero people in this business went into it because of the breaks, but yes, they are nice.

I wish everyone got these breaks in every job. I would not begrudge any of you of them. Tonight, my friends, I’d like to tell you a story to illustrate just how necessary these breaks are for those of us who work in schools; especially considering we are around minors-YOUR minors.

full moon

It’s less than 48 hours till break and the day after a full moon….

Today went fairly well. I made several kids smile, and even made a really tough mom laugh. In fact, my biggest success was the huge smile and hug I got from a kid who does NOT hug NOR smile in any fashion that would ever be described as anything other than “small.” By all accounts this morning was a success; but then the afternoon came.

I’ve said it many times before, but I would never want to be a classroom teacher. I am not tough enough to handle what they do every day. It’s incredible and the tenacity, perseverance, and steadfastness it takes to be a classroom teacher is not possessed within me in suitable amounts.

What I can do is help. One of the ways I help is serving on teams to help teachers come up with behavior plans. If one teacher is having a hard time I can do that. By “do that” I mean I can help, or at least provide comfort, usually. When it’s several teachers in a row it can feel overwhelming, and as a true feeler (Hi, I’m a counselor) I can be left feeling ineffective and helpless. That is not how it feels every time, but when you are counting down the hours till break the day after a full moon-well, helpless and ineffective are just accurate. I hate not being able to make things immediately better, and sometimes feel like the comfort or “open ear” I tried to provide just didn’t come through.

When you don’t eat lunch that feeling is multiplied. Everything is bad and awful when you haven’t eaten…or is that just me?

Anyway, I left work much later than usual tonight, and all I wanted to do was follow my typical nightly routine:
Pick up dinner
Go home
Take off bra
Put on PJs
Sit on couch
Commence decompression

That didn’t happen.

What happened was me meeting my dad at my storage unit to remove items then going to dinner. At dinner we went over my finances. Going over finances is NEVER fun, right?? Yeah, my dad is a financial planner, so he makes it easy, but it doesn’t suddenly make it fun. As we were finishing mom texted and needed one of us to get saltines from the store.


All I had wanted, since 2:30 this afternoon, was to be at home-particularly with the restricting undergarment removed (all the ladies understand the relief provided when it comes off), so for sure my dad would go get these crackers, right?


Ok, so I was nearly in tears just having to go get crackers. The deviations from my nightly script were very much bothering me.good day

Clearly, I am not possessing all my faculties if I am going to cry about going to the store (literally across the street from the restaurant) to get crackers.

While crossing said street I decided I would also buy my favorite beer (Samuel Smith’s Organic Chocolate Stout), so this meant I could use the reserved parking for the “wine and spirits” department. There was one spot left, but a big ass truck had parked over the line so I couldn’t fit. At the same time, everyone in Liberty was having Olive Garden for dinner so the parking was overflowing into the grocery store’s lot.

I found a spot, and as I pulled in a truck also pulled in right in front of me. He pulled so far forward that I was hanging out from my spot, but I didn’t care. I was just getting crackers and beer, right?

And creamer. I remembered I needed creamer for the staff breakfast Friday morning so I went toward the dairy department. Once there I selected one fun flavor of creamer to go along with my regular flavor. The slot containing the creamer I normally use was almost empty, except for one bottle ALLLLL the way at the back. I couldn’t reach and no amount of shimmying would move it. Fortunately, a nice mom waiting to select her creamer offered to lift up one of her children to reach it. Unfortunately the kiddo’s arms were just not long enough so in this 9-year-old girl’s attempt to reach the creamer she bashed her face into the cold rack…and I was still creamer-less.
Luckily, an employee was standing less than a foot behind us unloading butter (yes, the entire time) so I asked him to get the creamer.

Having secured both bottles of creamer I went to find the requested saltines for my mom.

Folks, commit this to memory: Aisle 11 at Liberty Hy-Vee is filled with crackers, but only crackers for SNACKING. The label on the aisle says “Snack Crackers.”

Apparently, Saltines do not qualify as snack crackers.

I asked another employee who told me he didn’t typically work in that department but he would help me. I could see him eyeing the signs above the aisles, so I said “Let me tell you upfront that there are no saltines in aisle 11. I can see you looking that way, and it is quite possible I didn’t look hard enough, but there was another lady in the aisle and she also could not locate them.”

hey teacherNext we walked to aisle 11, yes, really. I told him I would go down aisle 12 (chips and salty snacks) while he rechecked 11. Neither of us located the saltines. The kid yelled to another employee stocking meat and poultry. I already knew saltines would not be in his schema, and I was correct. He had no clue.

Finally, somehow, the kid figured out they were with the soup. Yes, there is a sign on a completely different aisle that says “Soup Crackers.” They’re with the soup.

(You’re welcome, by the way)

So, saltine box in hand, it was time to make my way to the beer department…

Except on the way there I passed the holiday candy canes and it’s been a while since I passed anything out to my coworkers.

Ok, now with 2 bottles of creamer, a box of SOUP CRACKERS, and 4 boxes of Spree Candy Canes (2 for $5!!),  it was time to get beer. While precariously balancing my items (because you know I didn’t grab a basket for one box of crackers and some beer) I made my way through the crowd, and even said “excuse me” several times.

I opened the fridge, grabbed my 4-pack of chocolate stout, and headed toward the checkout….but the mix and match beers had quite an interesting selection containing many more porters and stouts than usual, so I had to stop…and set down all my items so I could select my 6 beers.

So, 2 bottles of creamer, 4 boxes of candy canes, 10 bottles of beer, and a box of saltines later I had checked out and headed home.

There’s 9 bottles of beer left, my cat is chasing a moth, I don’t feel like crying anymore, and you now know where the saltines are should you find yourself in a similar predicament.

1.5 days till break. We can make it.

If you know an educator—-

Buy them a drink.



Listen, educators are hassled for many things, and one of those things is that we get breaks (summer, winter, spring, snow days). I will wager that almost zero people in this business went into it because of the breaks, but yes, they are nice. I wish everyone got these breaks in every job. I would […]

As if it Wasn’t Bad Enough that I Smelled not-so-great and Looked Like a Boy….

Deep Thoughts | Point and Laugh No Comments

Fashionable” and “stylish.”

Those are two words I don’t think have ever been used to describe me.

However, I had a realization this week I wanted to share related to those words and, well….ME. It’s one of those staggeringly, stupendously obvious realizations, so forgive me for that.

But first, let’s take a cringe-worthy trip back in time…. (doodly doo doodly doo doodly doo)

cutest cat

In elementary school I wore t-shirts; not just any t-shirts, though. You see, my mom has always worked at Hallmark, so I had every Hallmark t-shirt you can remember….for every holiday:
The Crayola Easter Bunny adorned my body
Maxine’s wrinkly face was no stranger among my clothing piles.
I was the Owner of the World’s Cutest Cat and I proudly proclaimed it on my t-shirt.far side
The Real Reason Dinosaurs became Extinct?? I wore that Far Side cartoon brazenly across my trunk (That would never be allowed in a school nowadays).

As I ventured into middle school those white t-shirts all became pit-stained and were eventually enjoyed a less frequent circulation when plaid flannel shirts came into style (if they weren’t worn underneath to display how (not really) grunge I was). Thank goodness it was in style to tuck our shirts into my button-fly GAP jeans or else everyone would have known I was actually wearing plaid flannel nightgowns quite often.

Once high school came I lost some weight as I began to swim two seasons per year. I remember wearing my dad’s jeans with a rope through the belt loops and a various band t-shirts I stole from my brother (Stone Temple Pilots, Henry Rollins Band, Green Day). At times I would try to dress a bit more like a lady, but the ever-ample lady boulders upon my chest often made appearing dainty a challenge. This was around the time in my life I became accustomed to boob sweat (now commonly referred to among my friends as “Swoobs).

During college I wore Doc Martens and lots of earth-toned sweaters. Earth tones are not very becoming on me. Some of my very fashionable friends tell me I look best in Jewel tones, and they are correct.
(Also they do super fantastic hair, so hit them up at GROOM Salon (816-842-4332) and 5th Street Barber Shop (816-283-8787)

T-shirts and Jeans continued to be my main style of dress until my mid-20s when I started my counseling career.

Over the last few years there have been several remarks about how nicely I dress all the time. I think it even made my friends uncomfortable at times.

You see, when I became suddenly separated then single again after almost 6 years I wanted to look nice so I could find my next husband. I started wearing makeup again after a year and doing my hair most days.

bat tee

About 2 years ago I lost close to 70 pounds. Although I still fought body-image issues, it was exciting (and scary) to buy new clothes.

My best friend, KT, has helped me with picking out new clothes over the last several years, and has really raised my “fashion” up. She has helped me to incorporate patterns and brighter colors. Along with that I have learned that just because I am curvy doesn’t mean I have to hide it, and I tend to embrace it, even when I dress more casually. I have incorporated t-shirts back into my wardrobe. The big difference is that I pay for them and the only statements they make about my personality are the ones I choose (usually nerdy graphics).

Now that you’ve taken a journey through my incredibly boring fashion history, let me tell you why I even told you all of that to begin with.

The realization so staggeringly obvious it may as well have been written on my forehead began with this:
My friend Brandy invited me to an Ugly Sweater Party this weekend.
I accepted because it’s been too long since I’ve seen Brandy and Chris AND it would be a chance to meet some new people….

Ok…and….in that new group of people…perhaps one of them would have a sister whose cousin’s uncle’s aunt’s boss’s mom might know one of the only single guys left in the KC Metro….

And maybe that could work out for me.

If online dating didn’t work, then I might need to try to meet people in real life…who might know people…that know other people…who are single.

Ya got me?

Ok, so I began to wonder what on EARTH to wear to this party because I would want to make a good impression and look appealing.


There’s no ugly sweater cute enough to make a man fall in love with me.

Because it’s not ever gonna be about what I’m wearing.

The thing that has always drawn people to me is my personality (and yes, perhaps it has driven some far far away).

I can’t imagine a guy thinking “I must talk to that girl. Her gray t-shirt with Batman taking a ride on a coin-operated Batmobile is really confidencecompelling me to ask her to bear my children.”

Wait, that t-shirt might actually be that compelling,….bad example. Oops.

Anyway, the point is that I should wear something I like and in which I feel confident, and that confidence may just be perceived as sexy by both the observer and the possessor of said confidence

I’ve already been so happy with my hair, and now my skincare, and now even my sense of style and my shape, that now it’s time to let all of that synergize into some epically sexy confidence.


“Fashionable” and “stylish.” Those are two words I don’t think have ever been used to describe me. However, I had a realization this week I wanted to share related to those words and, well….ME. It’s one of those staggeringly, stupendously obvious realizations, so forgive me for that. But first, let’s take a cringe-worthy trip back […]

I Think I Smelled Like Teen Spirit….

Getting Personal (aka a little TMI) | Point and Laugh No Comments

This afternoon I left my office and began to walk down the hallway toward, I dunno, somewhere, when I realized the paper towels I had shoved down my shirt and into my arm pits were beginning to escape. It took me back to a moment during my 5th grade year when I was washing my hands in the restroom and I saw a teacher doing something very strange right next to me. You see she was….

sweating alive

Couldn’t I just have that verified through the breathing and moving I’m doing instead of all the sweating?

…Huh? What? You mean you don’t shove paper towels or Kleenex into your shirt to absorb sweat?

Well, then I suppose you just learned something about me.

Sometimes I sweat more than I’d like. This has led to the development of many new words I use in regular conversation with my family and friends.
Words like “Swass” and “Swoobs” are a part of our vernacular.

I’ve been teased for a long time about the amount of deodorant and antiperspirants I layer onto my pits, but I long ago analyzed why I use so much.

So, let’s take a trip back to my 6th grade year. Yes, this is also the year in which I “became a woman,” which I wrote about a while back. It was a year of cringe-worthy memories. In fact, looking back, all of middle school was just one giant cringe. Thank God that is over with.

Another thing to know about me, if you don’t already, is that I was pretty much born “boy crazy.” I can’t remember a time I didn’t have a crush on a boy, so 6th grade was absolutely no exception. This particular memory involves a boy named Andy and a smelly, awkward, short-haired version of yours truly.

I had Mrs. Prager for English that year, and I sat one row over and a chair behind Andy, who had crystal blue eyes and light brown hair perfectly styled with too much gel, just like Zach Morris.  *swoon*

One day I noticed he was turning around in his chair toward me. I noticed because I was most likely boring holes into the back of his head from staring at him.

Anyway, he turned my way and looked directly at me. Here is what I am sure my 12 year-old self was thinking:

OH. MY. GAWD! Andy is staring right at me. This is it! This is the moment he realizes he loves me even though I’m not at all cool, have braces and acne, and short brown boy hair. He doesn’t actually like all those pretty blondes with cool names so unlike my basic name. He does love me.

Be still my heart…he is raising his hand toward his mouth; most likely to blow me a kiss while declaring his love in front of 30 of our peers. Everyone will see this and know we are soul mates…

We are totally getting married!

Wait…why is he pinching his nose? Why is he waving his other hand in front of it?

I think pitting out is pretty awesome, too!

I think pitting out is pretty awesome, too!

Balls. At that moment I realized the hearts I saw swimming in front of my eyes were really just fumes from my sweaty pits.


I was the smelly girl. This psychologically rooted in my brain and manifested itself as copious use of underarm products.

In fact, for whatever reason, I sweat more on my right side, so I often have to shove something in there to provide a barrier between my skin and shirt. Even better, sometimes I forget it’s there till it falls out of my shirt onto the floor in the hallway or my office.

I know, you wish you could be me. Sorry. Position is FILLED.

Now you know.

BUT, I digress!!!!

Back to being in the restroom in 5th grade with a 5th grade teacher behaving oddly.

As I was washing my hands I noticed Mrs. Cochran either putting paper towels in her shirt or taking them out. I can’t remember which was she was doing, specifically.

What I do remember is I left the bathroom convinced this 40-50 year-old woman was stuffing her bra; because that is what a girl my age would be accused of if she was observed doing the same thing.

I am certain I told TONS of other kids because it would have been a juicy scandal which I had witnessed with MY OWN EYEBALLS!

Here I sit, a little over 20 years later, and now I understand that she was sweating. I didn’t now Mrs. Cochran and I would one day be kindred spirits.

Thank God I work in schools with air conditioning.

UPDATE in the form of a PSA:
Ladies, use men’s deodorant. I started doing this several years ago and it has pretty much eradicated my sweating problems. The women’s deodorant industry is a LIE!

This afternoon I left my office and began to walk down the hallway toward, I dunno, somewhere, when I realized the paper towels I had shoved down my shirt and into my arm pits were beginning to escape. It took me back to a moment during my 5th grade year when I was washing my […]

Dating Spawns New Mathematical Formula: 1 Stood Up Female = 4 Cupcakes

Online Dating | Point and Laugh No Comments

Several weeks ago I received a message from a guy on OkCupid! It was a thoughtful message, well-written, and asked good follow-up questions. I checked out his profile and everything seemed great enough to silence the pink flags popping up as I read through it.
(I say “pink” because they weren’t quite “red” flags).

Pink Flags:
4 years younger (so you woulda been a freshman when I was a senior…creepy, but more acceptable at this age)
Tall and Fit (hopefully your vision isn’t impaired and you can see that I’m neither tall nor fit)

Tall and Fit (Ironic, right?)
4 years younger (oh yeah…I’m hot stuff)
Perfect grammar and spelling
Well-dressed (almost a little TOO professional, but I’ve been accused of being too dressy at times)
Pictures with family (nieces and nephews)
Pictures with friends
NO selfies
Expressed a desire for a serious relationship
Claimed a religion and listed “God” as something important to him

Mostly because I ate 4 cupcakes...

Mostly because I ate 4 cupcakes…

Based on all those details I decided to write this fella back. I did, and we exchanged several long messages where each time my sense of humor was noted and he asked more questions. Because I am aware that I suck at asking questions, but am super awesome at talking about myself (in case you hadn’t noticed), so I tried to make sure I was being thoughtful and complimentary as well.

After several days he sent his phone number and I texted the next day. At one point he asked for a picture “for his iPhone contacts,” which I always feel is semi-weird since I have 9 on my profile, but was assured by a friend that it seemed innocent enough, so I sent one that was already on my profile (because I’m a brat). We spent several days (maybe even over a week) texting and such and the time had come to meet, like for real real….

He asked my plans for this weekend. I replied “Kickball Friday. Church and football Sunday).” Clearly this indicated I was free for Saturday, but he never took the leap….

Saturday morning I slept in a little (so maybe 8:30) and after a while he sent a text asking how I slept. I didn’t respond for a bit because I continued dozing off, and knew I would be unable to relax if we set a date, and I still wanted to sleep a little.

My stomach was already starting its nervous routine whenever I meet someone for the first time. It sucks.

Eventually he sent another text asking what I was doing. We chatted back and fort a bit and he asked what I was doing tonight. I replied I had plans with Katie at some point, but wasn’t sure what time yet. Again, he said nothing, so I am thinking maybe he is just nervous to put it out there, so I ask if he likes coffee.

I’m assuming this will be the day we meet, so I begin painting my nails…all 20 of them, including an accent nail on each hand. My fingernails looked damn good with the light gray paint (and 2 with a sparkle effect). It was the best job I’d ever done on them, so I was pretty sure that was a good sign (my toes are a different story…why do we even have toenails if they’re going to be so minute???).

My stomach had let me know 3 times by now that I was definitely nervous even though my hands weren’t shaking while nail-painting, so I took some meds. This is a big deal because I am blessed (read “cursed”) with very sensitive guts, so any medicine endures for days, and winds up making me just as miserable, but with the opposite effect. Now you know, you’re welcome.

(Please imagine me speaking the next parts to you in a rapid-fire manner so you can understand it better)

He replied that he loved coffee, so I suggested we meet for coffee somewhere today.

At 12:35 he said that sounded great and asked what time I was thinking??? I said “I have to meet my mom at 4, so maybe 2:30??”

He said that would work and asked “where?”

I asked if he wanted to try for some place in between both of us since we live about 40 miles apart. (Now, this isn’t fair, but in the back of my mind I kinda think the guy should come to the girl first. That precedent was set by the last several guys offering and me trying to be overly accommodating, but at least they offered).

I tried looking up some places and couldn’t really find any, so I suggested a place just north of downtown.

No reply.

I proceeded to get ready. I hate shaving, but seeing as it’s 99,000 degrees outside right now I knew I wouldn’t want to wear jeans. In fact, a friend recently gave me a bunch of dresses I look really cute wearing, so I was even contemplating donning one of those…because what boy doesn’t like a gal in a dress??

Because I was nervous (and generally suck at life) I cut myself shaving at least twice and had a nice blood-trail coming from both knees. Ow.

Once I got out of the shower it was about 1:40, so I checked my phone, still no reply. If you call or text me ever, you know that sometimes my phone hates me. Katie can provide testimony for this should you doubt it.
Because of that fact, I texted him again asking, “So 2:30 works?”
No reply.

I continued to get ready, changing outfits multiple times and sweating like a fiend even though I had applied 2 different types of douchetarddeodorant in at least 4 alternating layers (detail only slightly exaggerated). I settled for the newer tighter capris, sexy underpants (because even though no one is gonna see them just you knowing you have them on boosts your confidence, and you’re a liar if you say otherwise), with my Wonder Woman t-shirt. Yep. I was adorbs. In fact, I still am as I typing this in the same outfit.

At 2:15 I left, still not having received a reply, and ignoring what my intuition was already telling me.

While en route, at 2:22 I received a text from him saying “Sorry. My phone died.”

My “BS” alarm was as loud as the tornado sirens on the first Wednesday of the month and just as familiar.

Now, there was still a chance he had acted with integrity and actually left his home knowing he would have to be somewhere at 2:30, but I decided I better ask, since there were many other plans for this day that were hinging on this one activity.
“So I’m guessing 2:30 won’t work…”

“I’m sorry, no I’m still at home 🙁 maybe later we could grab drinks?”

*super ginormous eye roll*
“Bummer. I can’t. Already have plans with Katie.”

“Do you? Well alrighty then LOL”

I sent nothing in response to that, but here is what I thought:
No, not LOL…I have no idea what’s funny. Is it that you think I’m stupid enough to think your phone died, or are you laughing in relief that you just got out of having to meet me?? Because rest assured, you will NOT be meeting me. And why are you surprised that I have plans with Katie? I already told you that earlier.

“But Lisa, what if his phone really did die?” you might be asking.
Put yourself in the situation: Your phone dies, for nearly two hours, just after you’ve planned a date with the girl with whom YOU initiated contact and continued to initiate contact several times. You do nothing?
Hmmm…no. You bust your ass to get your phone charged or to use another method of getting in contact with her (like the original dating site on which you found her). OR, knowing that you had agreed upon 2:30, perhaps you should have been prepared to leave your house before 2:22…

“Well, why don’t you just cancel your plans or take Katie with you and meet the guy??” you might also be asking.
1)That’s just stupid and you should stop asking that, but I’ll answer anyway.
2)) I don’t cancel plans with friends for a guy I’ve never met. Even if we had met, I don’t cancel plans with friends for a guy. I’d make it work somehow.
3) If that wasn’t good enough go back to #1 and we’ll just leave it at that. :p

Now, dear friend, this is not your fault, but I ignored some of my intuition with this guy because people have told me I am “too picky” or that I have weird reasons for not talking to guys or going out with them. I realize I open myself up for that feedback by putting myself out there in so many ways, but please know this guy, although seemingly initially harmless, was a guy I realized I could get over some of my own insecurities about (too young, fit, etc) and go ahead and meet.

When I decide to actually meet someone it is a BIG deal. It takes a lot to overcome that anxiety and risk the possible trampling of the hopes that you should know better than to get up and actually try to keep in check.

There was literally blood loss involved with this situation.


Clockwise from top left: Raspberry Lemonade, German Chocolate, Twisted, Carrot Cake

Anyway, I proceeded ahead to this bakery and retrieved 4 cupcakes to share with my parents and Katie this evening.
So, I put on make up on a hot-ass day for no reason, shaved and cut myself for no reason, painted all 20 nails with 2 accent nails (ok that will look good for a few days), and wasted a cute outfit….

Shout out to Sugar Mamma’s Bakery in Briarcliff Village for taking the sting out of being stood up.

So, tonight I will be at home, watching movies and making popcorn with Katie, while we eat cupcakes….

Oh, and I won’t be pooping for days because I was so nervous about this potential date I had to take meds.
If I was vindictive I would bag up that eventual poo and send it to him, but because that is gross I just settle for writing this post. 🙂

***We can all laugh when I wind up marrying the guy (who has since sent another text of his favorite college team’s mascot…3 hours later)***

Several weeks ago I received a message from a guy on OkCupid! It was a thoughtful message, well-written, and asked good follow-up questions. I checked out his profile and everything seemed great enough to silence the pink flags popping up as I read through it. (I say “pink” because they weren’t quite “red” flags). Pink […]