Why you should pay cash for sex toys ...

... Because if you pay with credit, your credit card company thinks its a fraudulent charge, puts on a hold on your account and freezes your online access. Then you have to call them and explain that yes, the $44.37 charge to "SlumberParties" is really, truly your legitimate purchase ...

I wanted to tell the credit card agent that he might be interested in the Lickity Stiff product line, but I resisted the temptation.

Schizophrenia

A good friend of mine recently told me that my problem with men stems from the fact that I'm too bad for a good boy and too good for a bad boy. He says that because I'm a bit of a conundrum, I attract men that like both sides of me but therefore don't really know what they want. So, in the end, my relationships are doomed to failure.

Hm. While that insight might be depressing and true, I'd like to think that my love life will eventually have a happy ending! After all, I have at least 10 interested matches on this dating website I just joined :) On the other hand, I think back on how I spent my weekend and realize that my friend just might be onto something. I spent Friday night at home, exhausted after a full day of interviews and meetings. Then, spent eight hours on Saturday in a peace talk simulation (I played the Archbishop Jorge Rivada, thank you very much) and then, exhausted after that adventure, drank beer at home and did homework (instead of watching TV, which I've given up for Lent). Went to church this morning, helped a friend move, then went to wine/sex toy party and sampled products like "Nympho Niagra." (Hope those online matches turn into something worthwhile. Some of the purchases I made are definitely more fun with two people ... ) It was a busy, man-less weekend, what can I say?

If my friend is right, my problem is that I like both sides of me and don't really want to pick one over the other. I need spiritual nourishment and enjoy helping people. At the same time, who wants to give up beer, wine and sex toys?? Guess it'll just take a little longer to find that guy with the tarnished halo.

A nation conceived in liberty

Flipping through this morning's Post, I was sickened and saddened to see this most astonishing photo accompanying a story about yesterday's war protests. The men pictured here were part of the counter-protest, advocating a justified Iraq war and accusing the protesters of desecrating the memories of fallen soldiers.

Perhaps my shock and dismay at this photo and the anger in this man's face stems from the story of reconciliation and unity that is currently capturing my imagination. Doris Kearns Goodwin's biography on Abraham Lincoln, Team of Rivals, is an incredible portrayal of, quite possibly, the best leader we've ever had as a nation. And even though the tale is wrought with violence, fratricide and betrayal, Lincoln steadfastly exhibited inconceivable grace, humility and wisdom to bring the country through a terrible war.

I think Lincoln would have been as heartbroken by this photo as I am. I hesitate to make direct comparisons between today's events in America and the horrors of the Civil War, but I still think the president's concluding words of his first inaugural address hold truth for us today. I'd encourage you to take some time to learn more about our 16th president -- I promise that you'll come away changed.

I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

Opportunity only knocks once ...

Back from Puerto Rico...more on that later. For now, I just HAD to share another god-awful online profile; this time, from Match.com., written by a 35-year-old, Caucasian man. (I just labored for 30 minutes, writing up my profile. Don't judge me.) Although the very first paragraph is worth its weight in hyper-inflated ego, my favorites are the third paragraph and the very last one. Enjoy:

I hate to brag, but there's just something about me that drives single, upwardly mobile, college-educated women between the ages of 26 and 35 wild. All my friends want to know my secret. In all honesty, though, I don't even know what it is. Everyone has their "type," and I guess mine just happens to be unmarried, childless women in white-collar professions requiring two to six years of post-high-school education, usually with an emphasis on health services or administrative support.

I can't say exactly what it is about me that attracts these women, but I do have a lot going for me. As a Naval Officer, I earn a salary in the $75, 000 to $99, 000 range. I spend 20 to 25 percent of my disposable income on entertainment. And at the end of each month, I still have eight percent of my total income remaining to put into savings.

And, unlike some men I could cite, I know how to treat a lady. When I'm on a date, I like to take a woman to dinner at a restaurant costing $20 to $39 per entree. Nothing extravagant, but a nice place, most likely run by a 35- to 60-year-old male who is a member of the city's 22 percent minority population. Often, this owner is Chinese-American, though occasionally he is of Indian or Thai descent.

Then, after dinner, it's back to my place for a drink, typically a bottle of white wine from the Clare Valley region costing $30. I put some nice jazz on the stereo, usually something romantic by a Marsalis brother, 61 percent of the time Wynton and 39 percent Branford. Once the two (2) date participants settle in on the couch, a little conversation begins. The subject tends to gravitate toward items of interest to 26- to 34-year-olds, but at times I like to shift to topics of primary interest to 18- to 24-year-olds, just to keep things light. Often, we'll discuss our favorite books, movies, and TV shows, particularly Survivor, a very popular program among childless, college-aged young adults, as well as members of three- to six-person suburban families.

I haven't always had such luck with women. For years, I tried dating blue-collar/service-industry employees making between $15, 000 and $20, 000 per year, only 19 percent of whom had completed education beyond high school–the segment of the population most likely to visit Sea World, shop at Wal-Mart, read True Story, and watch QVC. Big mistake. These dates tended to be significantly less enjoyable than those with women who own a $1,000-plus computer, drink diet soda, watch Nightline or ER, and possess at least two credit cards.

Ever since entering the 30 to 35 age group, I've sworn off dating women in the under-25 demographic. I remember fondly the days when a Saturday night meant spending $100 on an under-25 female, but I'm through with that. Back then, I'd patronize local restaurants or bars three to four nights a week in search of females, but I'm through with that set of preferences, too.

Yes, after years of dating four to six times a month, I think I'm finally at the point where, should I meet the right 26- to 35-year-old, I'm ready to settle down. I could see us buying a home together in a cute town with a violent crime rate of under 300 crimes per 100,000 population and a cost-of-living index hovering right around 100. Then, after a few years of married bliss, we'd start thinking about having a few dependents. That would be so wonderful: me, my spouse, and our 1 to 3 children living happily ever after.

TWO MORE DAYS TIL PUERTO RICO!

Spring Break is the best invention EVER.

Call me Senator!

My name is Lady V. (hi, lady v)

And I have a habit.

I google myself.

It's a wretched, narcissistic and addictive thing to do, I know. But, hey, everyone does it! (Don't lie to yourself). But for once, I actually had a marginally reasonable explanation for googling myself - I wanted to check if the search engines have been picking up my new website. I'm on a mission to gain more search engine pings than the other women who share my name -- one is an ACLU lawyer and the other seems to be a regular on "Daily Dumpling." (On second thought, maybe I should start concentrating my efforts on becoming a pinup for Daily Dumpling...you gotta give them Asians props for a good gossip/porno/celebrity news site.)

But back to my newfound senator-ness. Unfortunately, Google isn't giving me any cyber love. On the upside, I found myself listed on my school's website. Turns out, I got elected! Who knew? I hadn't knowingly entered any political races since my defeat at the MBA polls. Yet, here I am, the proud new owner of a graduate student seat on the Student Government, thanks to my (three?) unknown fans who wrote my name on the ballot. Thank you, my Adoring Mystery Public! You've entrusted me with the grave responsibility of bickering with undergrads for the next year.

I actually have no idea what it means to be a student representative on this board. No one has officially told me that I was elected ... but, hey, there can't be any real responsibilities attached to this job, right? The title of America's Next Top Slacker Student belonged to me this week -- I skipped two classes and handed in a paper two days late. (Never done that before. I'm chalking it up as a new experience. I'm always up for new experiences).

But, heigh ho! Speaking of googling myself, I'm off to bed ...

(heh. that was so dirty.)

Group hug!

A bit o' world news:

Elections are going on in Northern Ireland. I'm fascinated. Ian Paisley will likely win the top spot and might have to endure Martin McGuinness as deputy minister! That's like ... that's like ... President Bush with Al Gore as vice president. Or Magneto and Professor Xavier. Or peanut butter and pickles. Never the two should meet! Of course, Gore, Prof X and pickles have never been an active member of a terrorist organization ... but I guess everyone gets a second chance.

Speaking of fascinating things, Captain America is dead. Huh. Personally, I didn't know he was still alive. And now the comic book creators have killed him off. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Think they're making a political statement?

Walk on with hope in your heart

I skipped class today to watch the Liverpool v. Barcelona game. The Reds might have lost the game, but WHATEVER. They're through to the next round!!! I'm totally wearing my Liverpool scarf tomorrow. I might even skip Operations tomorrow, just for the fun of it.

When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high And don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of the Storm there's a golden sky And the sweet, silver song of a lark. Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain, Though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart, And you'll never walk alone. You'll never walk alone.

How can you mend ...

In my never-ending quest to achieve the ultimate procrastination, I've discovered that Wikipedia has an entry on "broken heart."

The article (which is noted as being incomplete and perhaps in need of some scrubbing) offers philosophical views on broken hearts, a list of symptoms, and even describes treatment ("It is claimed that the only cure for a broken heart is time, or acceptance"). You'll be glad to know that it also includes citations from the Bible and Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson's When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals.

I don't know who you are, Mr. Moussaieff Masson, but as soon as I'm done reading Kevin Federline's autobiography, I'll be sure to pick up a copy of your book.

Kill. Me. Now.

I've officially been in Dulles International Airport for 10 and a half hours. During my reluctant sojourn, I've learned the following things:

1. Today, the World was having a stupid day.
2. United Airlines is the stupidest of them all.
3. One free ticket doesn't make up for 11 hours in an airport.
4. Every food vendor in Dulles closes at 9pm except for Wendy's.
5. It takes 5 hours to download an iTunes movie on the Dulles internet connection.
   
6. Spending more than two hours in the Red Carpet Club sucks.
7. Small, screaming children suck.
8. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
9. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
10. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
11. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
12. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
13. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
14. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.
15. Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas.

oh, sorry. I thought I was CNN for a moment there.

Here's what I don't know -- what communications/marketing person at United came up with the "Red Carpet" idea? In theory, it sounds great. But in practice -- a red 2' x 4' floormat in front of the gate is stupid and doesn't make up for the stunning incompetence of the company.

Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas .... Anna Nicole Smith has been buried in the Bahamas ... it's like a mantra. A salve. Somehow, strangely soothing ... You know you've lost it when repetitious thoughts of Anna Nicole Smith calm your nerves.

Never fly out of Dulles Airport. Ever.

My United flight was scheduled to leave at 12:20pm.

And since Dulles is 40 minutes away from my house, it was cheapest to drive my car and leave it here for the weekend. When I finally got through security and rode the stupid white crackerbox on wheels to my gate, they switched gates on us.

So then I had to walk from the D gates to the C gates. And when we arrived, the plane was experiencing mechanical problems and wouldn't leave until 1pm. Then, the mechanical problems got worse and they delayed until 4pm. Plus, they overbooked the flight.

I figured, well, seeing as this day is going, there's a very small chance that the 4pm flight will take off on time. And if I have to be stuck here all day, I might as well get something out of it. I gave up my seat, got a free ticket, got booked on the 9:30pm flight and talked my way into the Red Carpet Club. Which, while it has free food, has a sucky internet connection.

And all this after I had to ride the parking lot shuttle, sitting across from a man in short shorts whose dingle-dongle was peeking out to see the world. No one wants to see that on a parking lot shuttle in the morning. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little, just thinking about it.

The heat is on

It's midterms week. The Gang is starting to have a bit of a meltdown, due to tomorrow's big World Economy exam. Our professor somehow crammed an entire semester's worth of economics material into about 6-7 classes. I just got a phone call from a group of folks still at The Duck at 12:25 am. They put me on speaker phone to explain the affect of foreign exchange transactions on spot currency exchange rates. Meanwhile, they put another Gang member on video conference via computer, and placed the two devices together so we could all hear each other. I'm not sure if they should be commended for their ingenuity and collaborative spirit or ridiculed for their geekiness ...

The pressure is rising and competition for internships is heating up -- a number of Gang members interviewed for the same position and there was a bit of smutty talk going on. Not that anyone would ever admit to it and, really, most of it was still rather polite ... but let's face it. We are all gossipers, we're competitive, and we love to talk about each other, even as much as we like each other.

To make things even more interesting, I think the Gang is on the verge of a revolt against the administration. There was a 30-minute, almost-violent discussion on the state of the school's brand new $52 million building. The bathrooms are always disgusting, the trash cans are rarely emptied on a regular basis, and the stalls run out of toilet paper. Can you imagine a Fortune 500 CEO seeing something like that? Breakout rooms are locked when they're not supposed to be; room scheduling is still a mess; and above all else, I think people feel disrespected. Professors don't bring their best game to class, or we get stuck with professors that no one else wants, we hardly ever see the Dean, and don't feel like the MBA program gets the attention/funding it deserves. The worst part is that the school ignores us now and yet will beg us for money in a few years when we're all earning six figures. (In the real world, a masters of accountancy program doesn't bring in prestige nor money. Sorry, CPAs). The stressed out students started coming up with all kinds of crazy ideas to make our complaints known -- hey, when folks need an outlet, they can get awful creative. I hope that these warning flares get some attention before people get more free time on their hands and cause some real mischief. Academia moves too slowly for MBA students!

Of course, I find outlets in other ways. Watch for these answers to start appearing on my tests: