Regular readers of this blog know that I whine a great deal about the lack of eligible bachelors in Shreveport, Louisiana.

"I WANT A DAAAAATE! I NEED A DAAAAATE! WHY DON'T I HAVE ANY DAAAAATES?"

Being a big fan of a little something known as "personal responsibility" and also willing to do just about anything for your amusement and edification, I joined Match.com for one month. Remember? I wrote about it here. Then I met this cute guy and accidentally gave him almost all my personal information, which I wrote about here.

Well, the Catastrophic Coffee Date fell through for a variety of reasons too long and boring to go into, so we instead decided to meet for dinner tonight.

In all my moaning about wanting a DAAAAATE, the fact that all dates must begin with the dreaded First Date was wiped from my consciousness. See, all the "dates" I've been on in the recent past have been with people I already know or people I've met through friends, so no one calls it a Date (in the manner of teenagers standing around in parents' basements smoking pot in lieu of dating. Not that I have ever done that on a date. Well, not since high school, anyway). And as long as no one calls it a Date, I can live happily in denial, telling myself that, Pffft! It's not a date! We're just hanging out!

Well, the concept of "Date" came back to me this afternoon at about 4:30. I was to meet the guy, whom we shall refer to as The Guy (WHAT. I've only got so much creativity to give here, people) at 6:00.

So my evening went something like this:

4:30 - 5:00 PANIC. BLIND PANIC. Call Mere, Emily and Jessica and freak the hell out. Friends wonder if am actually qualified for life in any way.

5:00 - 5:05 Select outfit. Mere insisted that must wear The Kel Uniform (i.e., turtleneck sweater, denim pencil skirt, badass boots and chunky jewelry) as that is "who [I am], and the whole point of a first date is to showcase who [I am]." Decide to wear dangly topaz earrings avidchick made for me last Valentine's Day as good luck charms.

5:05 - 5:10 Arrange hair. Bemoan fact that hair is uncontrollable and messy. Wrangle hair into ponytail-type arrangement and decide that messy hair is integral part of Who Clothes_Slut Is.

5:10 - 5:15 Smoke cigarette and stare at Chihuahua in vain attempt to calm self. Chihuahua leaves room, as is frightened by Mean Lady's wild-eyed stare.

5:15 - 5:20 Consider calling other girlfriends but decide that friends are very worried about self as is.

5:20 - 5:30 Begin makeup application. Try to remember that New York Times, Village Voice reporters and similar frequently go undercover in very dangerous situations in order to get good story. Decide to think of self as intrepid girl reporter. Remember while applying eyeshadow that watched History Channel program on vampires last night, and New York Times reporter disappeared after infiltrating vampire coven in West Village. Curse History Channel, reporter and self ad nauseam. Hope that The Guy is not vampire. Or zombie. Dismiss zombie scenario as unlikely, as The Guy has yet to make any mention of BRAAAAAIIIIINS.

5:30 - 5:45 Take off and put back on various items of clothing, jewelry and shoes. End up wearing same thing was wearing in first place.

5:45 - 5:50 Walk outside. Discover is very cold out. Return to apartment, try on three different coats and four different scarves before deciding on appropriate coat and scarf. Realize have lost ever-loving mind. Wonder why self owns so many coats and scarves, as self lives in Louisiana and only wears coats four days out of average year.

5:50 - 5:55 Go to ATM. Know that guys traditionally pay for dates, but do not wish to be presumptuous. Am Independent, Modern Woman, after all.

6:00 Arrive at Barnes and Noble. Text friend. While texting friend, catch whiff of (expensive-smelling) noticeable but subtle men's cologne. Know The Guy has arrived before even look up from phone.

6:00 - 8:10 Have very good First Date. Eat copious amounts of Lebanese food. Learn what exactly "chains on tires" are and what purpose they serve (The Guy is from "Up North," as Louisiana girls say). Discuss The Office, Kevin Smith movies, Disney World, zombies, haunted houses, PETA protests, President-elect Obama, Proposition 8 and snow, among other things. Have very good time indeed. Realize that am idiot and that there was nothing to freak out about in first place.

8:10 - 8:15 The Guy walks self to car. Do not kiss The Guy (duh), but decide might want to at some point in future.

8:15 - 8:30 Drive to Walgreens. Reward self for not falling down, vomiting, etc. by purchasing Olay Warming Pedicure for self.

8:45 Arrive home. Receive very nice text message from The Guy.

9:00 - Present Write about how neurotic and insecure self is for whole internet to read.

So there you have it! Three hours' worth of How to Go on a First Date With a Neurotic Bachelor Girl. You know, should you ever need a tutorial on such a thing. That's me! Always here to help her fellow man. And woman.

Off to give myself a warming pedicure.



Your giddy
Kel

In these troubled economic times, every American is being called upon to exercise fiscal responsibility. We're all having to reevaluate "wants" versus "needs." Everyone has a little less disposable income, and, in a nutshell, it's Belt-Tightening Time.

To that end, I gave myself a pedicure and a manicure last night rather than paying someone to do it for me.



WHAT. BABY STEPS, PEOPLE, BABY STEPS.

I would like to thank the Academy for recognizing genius when they see it. Also, my yoga teacher and the above-pictured lamp, purchased at Target for $7.99.

Speaking of belt-tightening, I acknowledge the fact that my new apartment costs a great deal more than my old one. However,

1) I love not living in a tenement, and
2) Even more than that, I love not living above stalkers.

Perhaps best of all, tonight Cici's Pizza was selling medium pizzas for $5.00 right outside the gate! Which, by the way, is $0.42 less than it costs me to make a pizza at home.



Most humans experience complete happiness few times in their lives. Chihuahua, on the other hand, experiences it every single time I walk in the door from work holding a pizza.

"MEAN LADY HAVE PEPPERONI FOR TO FEED CHIHUAHUA?!"

Other than painting my own toenails and eating pizza, I've been packing for my much-anticipated trip to Florida to visit Jennifer and Swell Nathan. The only part of this experience that's NOT enjoyable is trying to decipher the Kabbalah-like airline regulations regarding liquids in one's carryon luggage. DOES NOT COMPUTE.



Well, off I go to pack some more. This girl's gotta look good for Mickey, you know. Lots of pictures and such when I return.



Your very excited
Kel

P.S. Here's hoping Lola doesn't eat all the food out of the automatic cat feeder on the first day. I'm half-expecting to come home to find a beach-ball-shaped cat paws-up in the middle of the kitchen floor.

So...yeah. This is definitely going to go down in history as the Worst Halloween Ever. Michael Myers himself showing up would be a marked improvement, because at least then things would be more interesting. And Halloween-themed.

Speaking of Michael, I'll be watching Halloween for the 84,000th time tonight. Because who doesn't like 70's-era all-natural boobies, especially when they're combined with blood, guts and knee socks? I know I do.

At least y'all are here to keep my spirits aloft with your funny comments and suggestions for weight loss. I hope y'all know I love you more than my luggage. I love y'all so much, in fact, that I did something for you today that is heretofore UNPRECEDENTED in Clothes_Slut Land:

I took pictures of myself...

SANS MAKEUP.

Quick, someone grab the smelling salts!

If this ain't journalistic integrity, then someone's going to have to tell me what is BECAUSE I JUST DON'T KNOW.

Anyway, here they are: a photographic record of The Halloween Which Sucked a Thousand Dicks.

Mere: "In a row?"

Halloween 2008 The Giant Sucking Sound

Happy Halloween, my darlings! Look out next year: Mere and I are going as POLYGAMISTS!



Your scary
Kel

A word of advice:

Do not watch this movie right before bedtime.

I will NEVER. Get to sleep. Ever. AGAIN.

Guillermo del Toro + subtitles + grossness + extreme creepiness (AND THE SOUNDTRACK DOES NOT HELP MATTERS) = Kel sleeping with her bedroom door locked and all the lights on. Forever more.

Here is how neurotic am I:

During the creepiest part of this extremely creepy movie, Chihuahua began growling in a most menacing way (well, for a Chihuahua, anyway) at something in the corner. I couldn't see anything, so naturally, that meant it was a ghost. You know, like from the tee vee.

OMG. OMG. CREEPY LITTLE-KID GHOSTS HAVE SUPERNATURALLY COME OUT OF THE TELEVISION AND ARE NOW HAUNTING THE FAR RIGHT CORNER OF MY LIVING ROOM!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

HURRY HURRY HURRY MUST CALL FATHER DAIGLE ON THE BAT PHONE WE'RE GONNA NEED US AN EXORCISM UP IN THIS MOTHER RIGHT. EFFING. NOW.

So I leaped off the sofa in an uncharacteristically athletic manner and starting doing that hopping-around-on-tippy-toes-and-squealing dance that I usually reserve for very large spiders and trying to find my phone.

When I realized that Ouiser, not a ghost, was haunting the far right corner of my living room.

Oh.

Dear Clothes_Slut Readers: Wait. Why am I single again?

Clothes_Slut Readers: Because you are an idiot.

Oh yeah...

P.S. I hate to break it to Chihuahua, but she's going to have to keep her tiny legs crossed until daylight, 'cause AIN'T NO WAY we're going out for another walk tonight. In the dark. WHAT. THERE MIGHT BE GHOSTS.

So tell me - what's the scariest movie YOU'VE ever seen?



Your seeing-and-believing
Kel

When I got home from work last night, I went straight into my bedroom to change clothes, as is my custom.

The animals gathered in the bedroom and watched me intently, as is their custom.

If I could read their tiny minds for one minute, I would want to know WHY they do this. What are they watching for? Is it some sort of "mom's health" exam? Do they think that perhaps I spontaneously grew green scales all over my body while I was at work? Or are they just a bunch of wee, furry perverts? Surely this is not the highlight of their days.

Anyway, here they are, as captured on video, in the manner of a National Geographic cameraman or similar, by moi: the world's smallest, hairiest strip-club audience.

Personal to animals: Etiquette dictates that in such establishments, the patrons should demonstrate their appreciation by tipping the performers.





Your multitalented
Kel

By my decree, today is Take Your Chihuahua to Work Day.

This fact was previously unbeknownst to a) my father/boss, who abhors both Chihuahua and Take Your Chihuahua to Work Day and b) Chihuahua, who abhors getting out of bed before noon.

It's gone pretty well so far. For all Chihuahua's sociopathic tendencies, she actually behaves well in public, and the biggest disturbance so far has been her snoring.

(Chihuahua say, "When lunch? Chihuahua benefits inadequate for Chihuahua lifestyle. Chihuahua going to need AT LEAST 20% cost-of-living raise. Chihuahua good negotiator."

It's rainy and a little chilly and truth be told, I'd really rather be at home in my pajamas, snuggled on the sofa with Chihuahua and her fake-fur throw I purchased for her last Christmas on clearance, watching horror movies and drinking hot cocoa.

In other words, I'm not exactly an Enthusiastic Worker today. My enthusiasm has been subjugated by my desire to watch Halloween movies and eat candy.

Instead of sucking it up and getting on with my work, I borrowed D.J.'s camera to take pictures of random things around the office, then accidentally transferred all the pictures on his camera to my computer. Because I am a delight to everyone.

So here they are, the ill-gotten office pictures. If you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to shopping online, breaking my coworkers' possessions and generally being an all-around pain in the ass to everyone who knows me.

From Hard at Work

Your lazy
Kel

Life Mission No. 286: Accomplished

Phone: Ringring

Kel: "Hey Mere of Mine! You're never gonna believe what I did tonight!"

Mere: "What? What'd you do?"

Kel: "Listen!"

*Puts phone down*

Kel (in background): "CHIHUAHUA! Velociraptor!"

Chihuahua (in background): *Jumps around and barks madly like a rabid Chihuahua*

*Picks up phone again*

Kel: "Well? Whaddya think?"

Mere: "WOW."

Kel: "Come on! That's awesome! My dog attacks velociraptors!"

Mere: "So what have you done this evening besides teach your dog to bark at more stuff?"

Kel: "That's...about it. GOD, MERE OF MINE. You make it sound like I haven't been busy. I accomplished Life Mission Number 286!"

Mere: "You don't aim real high, do you?"

Kel: "Oooh! I wonder if she'll do it for zombies too!"

Mere: "Oh God..."

Kel: "CHIHUAHUA! Zombie!"

Chihuahua: Goes apeshit

Kel: "Heee! Chihuahua's a genius!"

Mere: "Kel, she only does that because you point at Lola when you say 'velociraptor' or 'zombie.'"

Kel: "NO WAY. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES CHIHUAHUA HAS SEEN JURASSIC PARK?"

Mere: ...

Kel: "Life Mission Number 287: accomplished."

--------

And now I'm kind of thinking that the person who accused me of doing drugs may have had a point.



Your accomplished
Kel