20,003 Reasons To Be Happy On A Saturday ... And How I Inadvertently Slept with a Neo Nazi

Happy Saturday, LilyOnTheLam.com Readers!


Right after I typed "20,003 Reasons To Be Happy On A Saturday" as the title of this blog post, I heard a way too familiar "hucka, hucka" noise.  My bulimic girl cat (Diva - who I am pretty sure is the reincarnated spirit of a very pissed off Kurt Cobain) vomited her breakfast contents on my rug.  Not the easily cleanable tile that was a mere 1.5 centimeters away.  Nope - on the vomit absorbing throw rug.  Thank you, Diva!  I know 20,003 Reasons To Be Happy On A Saturday and cleaning up cat vomit from a pissed off reincarnated rockstar spirit is NOT one of them!


This wasn't the way I wanted to start this blog post, but it's a true metaphor for my life - whenever I am about to celebrate happiness, there's usually some regurgitation.  Live, learn and move on!  (And have lots of cleaning products!)


So ... 20,003 Reasons To Be Happy On A Saturday!  I have been writing this food/travel/restaurant and product reviews/adventure tales/dating angst/life in Tampa Bay, Florida/psychotic ramblings blog since the tail end of 2010.  I didn't really get into the swing of blogging on a regular basis until late 2011 though.  But once I found my groove, I was amazed at the readership that developed.  I love getting emails and comments from all around the world.  And I loved discovering that for some unknown reason, I have a lot of readers in the Ukraine.  (Thank you, Ukraine!)  Your readership (Ukraine and everywhere!) makes the frustration I feel at the ridiculous amount of random spaces that Blogger.com puts in my blog posts when I use a larger font, all worth it!  


Just recently I had my first reader in Brunei.  I hope I catch on there, because "My Name is Lily and I'm Big in Brunei" is definitely going to be my bar pick up line for the second half of 2012.  Don't try to steal it, you hussies!  I want all the foxy men for myself!  (By the way, by referring to men as "foxy," I caused a bit of my own regurgitation.) 


But enough about vomit ... (Which should be my tag line).  Yesterday, I saw that my humble blog was getting very close to 20,000 page views.  Now I know this may not sound like a lot of page views to some...  


(Yeah, I'm talking to you Mellissa at the I Breathe ... I'm Hungry blog!  Mellissa started her awesome, amazing, "I read it at least 3-5 times a week" blog in JULY 2011 and now has over 1.56 million hits [and counting.]  I would hate you but your recipes are too damn good.  So I will secretly curse you as I make your zero net carb flax and parmesan pizza crust and continue to read your blog on an obsessive basis.)  


While I do not have 1.5 million page views, approaching 20,000 page views for my wacky, snarky little blog feels pretty darn amazing to me.  Readers, you have made my Saturday!  Thank you!!  (Although perhaps I should add more recipes to this website, have you tried my recipe for Nutter Butter Cheesecake Truffle Balls?)


I woke up this morning (ahem - late morning ... ahem -- slightly before Noon ...) to find that my page view counter was at 20,003!  Sometime during my slumber, I had had my 20,000th page view and then 3 more people came to the party!  


Like an odometer rolling over, I feel like my blog has moved into a new chapter!  The "more than 20,000 page views" chapter!  I wonder if this is like an upgraded status on the airlines ... do I now get to board my life first with an extra piece of emotional baggage?  Maybe some extra peanuts at least?  


Welcome to "Lily On The Lam - Silver Elite Status!"  Please feel free to throw some confetti in the air and yell "woo hooooo!"  But don't curse me as you have to drag out the vacuum cleaner to suck up said confetti.  I don't do manual labor.  


Or maybe now that I've had over 20,000 page views, I'll start affecting a condescending, snotty air ... "I don't have time for the `little people' anymore ... Hello, I'm Lily ... beautiful day isn't it?  Why look at that cloud -- it looks like the number 20,003 ... what a coincidence, do you know who else has a number of 20,003?  My amazing BLOG LilyOnTheLam.com!"  


Ahhh yes, I can run into patronizing, self-congratulatory mode at the drop of any hat!  It's a talent ... a gift really ... a gift from Jesus himself.  (By the way, has anyone bought a Grilled Cheesus maker where the image of our Heavenly Lord and Father gets branded on your sandwich?)  


I feel like I should have some super awesome, amazing topic for the blog post after 20,003 page views ... however this is my 149th blog post and I was trying to plan a great blog for the 150th!  The pressure of TWO great blog posts in a row is just way too much for this little brain to handle.  The stress of it all would cause a huge breakdown and my cat, Finnerty, would have to take over writing this blog.  And if you're an ardent LilyOnTheLam.com reader, you will know that Finnerty is an a**hole.  (Evidence: here, here, here and here.)  Plus Finnerty is lazy ... he's not going to keep a consistent schedule of blog writing.  (Um, I guess I don't keep a consistent schedule of blog writing either ... ummm... well at least I don't lick my butt and then try to kiss my owner.  Take that, Finnerty!)  


So like most of my LilyOnTheLam.com blog posts, I am picking today's topic out of my arse ... oops, I mean "out of the air," which is my sophisticated way of saying: "out of my arse."  In April, I went on a girls weekend to Sarasota/Siesta Key, Florida.  Sunday morning was our beach time and I whipped out a book I had purchased several weeks before and had not gotten around to starting.  


That book?  Rachel Dratch's "Girl Walks Into A Bar ... Comedy Calamities, Dating Disasters and a Midlife Miracle."

Now I have been a pretty faithful viewer of NBC's "Saturday Night Live" over the years, so I have seen comedian Rachel Dratch in action.  I would watch Rachel Dratch and wonder why Lorne Michaels and team always seem to fit her in roles of little old men or crazy mutant creatures.  I cheered the first time I saw her in a "Sully and Denise" sketch because finally Rachel Dratch gets to stop dressing as a man AND gets to make out with Jimmy Fallon.  I consider this a comedy career win-win.  


But then came the 30 Rock brouhaha where Rachel Dratch was supposed to star in the Tina Fey-driven television show, but then was allegedly replaced with Jane Krakowski.  I remember feeling sad when Rachel Dratch would pop up occasionally on "30 Rock" doing an eerily good impression of Elizabeth Taylor.  I would think "Oh really?  Is this what you do to Rachel Dratch?  Yank away her starring role and then throw her a bone with an occasional cameo?"  And then I would wonder why I was yelling at my TV and that the "bone" Rachel Dratch was being thrown probably paid a lot more than my job.  Then I would wonder why I was indignant-by-proxy for a comedian I had never met.  And at some point, I'd probably fall asleep on my couch.  Self-introspection wears me out.


While I evidently have such an affinity for Rachel Dratch that I was willing to take on the suits at NBC for her (assuming that the suits at NBC would come to my living room to discuss this topic with me, because I'm kinda lazy and low effort); I wasn't as big of a fan to know that Rachel Dratch had written a book.  No ... I was on BarnesandNoble.com (That's BN.com, if you're an internet super genius!  Wink, wink!) and I think I had purchased something like "Wild, Forlorn Hippos of the Serengeti" and up pops a "If you like Wild, Forlorn Hippos of the Serengeti ... you'll love Rachel Dratch's new book!"  


Now being a crazed internet shopaholic, who gets some sort of secret thrill whenever I push the "BUY IT NOW!!!  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BUY IT NOW!!!" button ... I thought "Hmm, Rachel Dratch ... a book?  Hmm ... how bad could that be?"  And I pressed "BUY."


I have to take a moment to sincerely apologize for my truthfulness ... I am very sorry Rachel Dratch that my reaction to your book was "How bad could it be?" and then I purchased your book.  Although in my defense, I strongly believe that you'd be happy with any of these scenarios ...


I get naked, put on a rooster head mask and go streaking through downtown Tampa and then buy your book.


I dress up miscellaneous cats in Scottish garb and recreate scenes from the movie "Braveheart" and then buy your book.  (I've never seen Braveheart, it is set in Scotland, right?)


I throw all my recyclables into the trash chute and then buy your book.               


The common theme here is that I think Rachel Dratch would be happy with whatever me and my 20,003 page views would do as long as it ended in buying her book.  OK maybe not that last one about throwing away my recyclables, since evidently Ms. Dratch is an ardent recycler.  (Just one of the delectable factoids you would know if you bought and read her book!)

Side Note:  If you're a regular reader of LilyOnTheLam.com, you are well aware that I am the world's worst photo stylist.  When faced with a "how do I showcase this item in a photo?"  I usually respond with "Um ... more cats?"  So when wanting to take a picture of Rachel Dratch's book for this blog post (everything is better with a picture!), I was stumped as to how to appropriately photo style her book - as you may have noticed in the above picture.  


After much contemplation, I added this winning, photo stylin' touch and retook the picture ...

  

Yep, I think I nailed the emotional intensity of Ms. Dratch's book through my clever photo styling.  Who cares that I covered up half of the title to do it?  Who cares that now people think Rachel Dratch's book is called "Walks A Bar" and are wondering why she takes her liquor cabinet contents out for a morning stroll in NYC?  This is ART.  Sometimes you have to bend reality for art's sake.  I think Andy Warhol or the toll collector on the Veterans' Expressway said that.  Quite clearly, photo styling should be my next new career.    (Psst - Just don't tell my boss at the drive-thru "Cheese on a Stick" kiosk, I am not ready to give up that sweet, sweet paycheck.)

I also am going to take credit for the new trend sweeping the nation (#LilyOnTheLamNewTrend on Twitter.com) - which is obviously "posting pictures on the internet of Rachel Dratch's book with weird objects that have nothing to do with her book."  Is it any surprise that I am an international trend setter?  I have 20,003 page views, people!

Back to the story ... so I bought Rachel Dratch's book - either because I am an internet shopaholic or because I have faith in Rachel Dratch's writing abilities.  You decide.  


The book came in the mail and ... And it sat on my bookshelf.  Until girls' weekend at the beach.  I knew that Rachel Dratch's book had to be the ideal summer read.  I was not wrong!  I was laughing hysterically to myself, devouring the first couple chapters until I realized I was supposed to be social and actually talk to my friends at the beach.  (Whaaaat?)  So I begrudgingly put the Rachel Dratch book back in my bag and tried to pretend like I was socially integrated.  


Although I absolutely LOVED the first couple chapters of Rachel Dratch's book; when I returned from the girls' weekend I didn't get around to picking the book up again to finish it.  Did I happen to mention I am lazy and low-effort?  However last weekend, I was flying to Minnesota for the weekend ... do you know what goes well with plane rides?  Rachel Dratch's new book!  I finished her book on my plane ride back to Tampa.  I was laughing out loud at Rachel Dratch's tales while receiving indignant stares from my fellow passengers.  ("Stop looking at me - go back to eating your Biscoff cookies.  Flight attendant, WHERE IS MY FRESCA?")


If I had to sum up Rachel Dratch's book, I would have to say "Freaking Heartwarming."  Feel free to add that to the book jacket of your next reprinting, Ms. Dratch.  "LilyOnTheLam.com says: `Freaking Heartwarming.  Buy this book after you buy Wild, Forlorn Hippos of the Serengeti!'"


There are a lot of laughs in this book and while some are of the "Ohhhh Rachel, noooo...." cringe in your seat variety; the overarching theme of this book is perseverance, hope and not letting the big knocks completely knock you down.  Which to me, is a pretty darn good theme.    


I had this weird sense of calm, inspiration and hope after reading Rachel Dratch's book.  WTF?  Is Rachel Dratch channeling Deepak Chopra?  (Don't know who Deepak Chopra is?  Check out my blog post:  This Dog Loves Deepak Chopra, Do You?)  I don't know what Jedi mind trick Rachel Dratch is pulling ... but her book really ran me through the emotional roller coaster - happy, sad, confused, laughing, inspired, hopeful ... more laughter.  I was amazed at how much I enjoyed this book.  (OK that sounds like a backhanded compliment ... sorry Ms. Dratch!)  I guess I'll just say that I thoroughly enjoyed it.  


Also the book answers the age old question - "what happens when you see pigs everywhere?"  (What do you mean that's not the age old question?  Whatever!)  


Rachel Dratch also writes about her dating life and her own sad rule of threes - an alcoholic, a drug addict and a sex addict!  I think that's like some Vegas-style Dante's Inferno dating trifecta.  Reading about Rachel Dratch's love life, made me do my own sad, sad, sad accounting of past loves.  (Side Note:  Sitting on a plane thinking of all your past bad relationships while the plane is in full throttle bone-rattling turbulence does not equal a good time.)  I've dated alcoholics.  I've dated drug addicts ... and I am sure there's been a freaky sex addict in there somewhere too ... so I see your trifecta, Miss Dratch and I raise you ... with this story ...


When I was in grad school in the cosmopolitan wonderland that is Buffalo, New York (don't envy me!), I would visit my close college friend in Washington DC.  (Any excuse to break out of Buffalo!)  My DC friend loves to sing and so any weekend visit would require that I attend his church to hear him sing.  


First off, I should get points for entering a church without spontaneously combusting.  Second - I'm obviously a good friend ... having to attend church services that aren't even my religion (but ahem, wouldn't matter if it was anyway) ... is a huge move on my part.  It's higher than "helping you bury a body."  But not as high as "helping you kill a person."  My friend is gay.  His church congregation was made up of mostly gay men and elderly widowed straight women in hats.  I felt like an anthropologist in the wild.  Clearly not a part of this targeted population, but a curious onlooker watching and studying.  


After the church service, there would be a "coffee hour."  (AKA viewing the targeted population in the wild, socializing ... with caffeinated beverages and cookies.)  I was amazed at how many single men in their early 40's were there with their children.  My friend informed me that this particular subsection were all men who had been closeted.  Instead of living as gay men, they had married women and had children.  Then as they approached forty, these men decided to come out of the closet, divorce their wives and embrace their true sexuality.


First, let me say that I applaud anyone who stops living a lie - no matter what that lie is -- and embraces their true self.  It is heroic, courageous and admirable.  Life is too short to not be true to yourself.  


However, that being said ... I WAS FREAKED OUT to learn of this subsection of the church congregation.  I suddenly had visions of myself finding love, getting married, having children and then one day my husband saying to me "Yeah - I never loved you - at least not in that way.  I didn't want you to know I was gay so I let you decorate our house in Sears Outlet purchases and have held my tongue about those hideous flower-print palazzo pants you insist on wearing, but I cannot live a lie any longer.  I'm gay and my lover, Henri and I are opening a bed and breakfast ... Ta ta!"  Leaving me standing there feeling like an idiot- and my entire love life a sham.


Cue the wonderfully talented Jay Brannan singing "Beautifully" ... ("It's not that you're not beautiful, you're just not beautiful to me ..."  OUCH!)

      
One of my biggest dating fears was being presented to me over coffee and cookies in a church ... being a control freak, I have a neurotic fear of being duped, hoodwinked, conned ...  I am pretty intuitive and do tend to pick up things like a homicide detective, but there are still sadly many times where I get the rug pulled out from under me - especially when it comes to love.  (Latest case in point - Mr. Bad Ass Bandit - yeah, you heard me, fella!)


To think you are happy and in love, get married, have children ... and then find out your spouse is gay and leaving you ... well that has got to be the biggest con of them all.  Whether an intentional con or not, it's still destroying one person's world.  I could not even imagine what all the wives of these now very happy, divorced out and proud gay men were going through emotionally.   


Fast forward - Many years after the out and proud gay man church coffee hour, I am pleased to report that I have never had a relationship with a man who then turns to me and says: "I didn't realize I was gay until I had sex with you."  There has got to be a Girl Scout Badge for this particular event NOT happening in one's dating life!  What I neglected to realize, oh so many years ago in that church is that I have incredibly strong, military grade gaydar. The chances of me falling in love and marrying a gay man without having any inkling whatsoever that he's gay are even more remote than my winning a mega millions lottery.  There was no reason to fear this particular event's occurrence in my life.


But true to form ... with every happy moment (I guess if saying "I'm glad I never married a closeted gay man" can be referred to as a happy moment) ... it inevitably is followed with some cat vomit.


If we were playing the drinking game "I Never" and the statement was "I have never turned a man gay" ... I would not be downing my Clamato and Vodka to that statement.  (Heh heh, I just love saying "Clamato."  Do you know Clamato bills itself as the original tomato-clam cocktail?  As if there are soooo many tomato-clam cocktails out there on the market, that Clamato has to preserve its reputation by saying it is the original???)


BUT if in the same "I Never" drinking game, the statement was "I have never turned a man into a Neo-Nazi by sleeping with him" ... well I wouldn't be able to say anything because all you'd be viewing is the bottom of my red plastic Solo cup and possibly some Clamato running down my chin.  Yep ... I cannot say I have never done this particular statement.


By the way, there is no Jay Brannan song that fits this part of my story "It's not that you're not beautiful, it's just that you're a Neo Nazi ..."  Maybe Jay needs to expand his song catalog.  I'll direct the video.


Now for people who actually know me live and in person, they are probably sputtering at the revelation I have just made.  I'm your average neighborhood gal ... not some crime-spree loving renegade with a tattoo of Heinrich Himmler on my ass.  Besides, if you are a dedicated LilyOnTheLam.com reader (if not-- re-assess your priorities NOW!), you may recall that I am 1/2 Caucasian and 1/2 Asian.  Not exactly an ideal recruiting group for Neo Nazi members.  Plus, I pay a lot of money at Salon 1.0 at Channelside on my gorgeous hair ... so I will not be embracing the skinhead lifestyle any time in this century.  


Given all this, you may be wondering what exactly is in my sexual repertoire that has turned a man I have been intimate with into a Neo Nazi?  Do I employ Hitler costumes in bed?  Can I only climax if I am having sex in a bunker and you call me Eva while wearing a tiny little Charlie Chaplin-style mustache?  (Moments like these, I am glad my Mother does not read my blog.  But find it hysterical that T's mother freely chooses to read all this insanity!  Thanks for reading, Mrs. S!)  By the way, the answer to the above two questions is "HELL NO!"  As if you had to ask!  Shame on you!


Evidently with no WWII sexual depravities of my own, a young man I had a fling with very long ago in my wayward youth has become a major drug dealer, alleged multiple murderer, ex con who also sports many swastika tattoos on his body.  Yeah, how's about them apples?  


Did sex with a 1/2 Asian (ahem ... me) lead this man to a path of destruction?  Would he be a state Senator if not for my drunken "love em and leave em" reign of terror?  And is a state Senator role better than a Neo Nazi drug dealer?  (OK I jest with that last comment ...)  


For the record, while many of the men I have had relationships with are emotional con artists ... I tend not to date actual convicts.  Or ex-convicts ... or murderers ...  And while a frightening amount of men I have dated do sport at least one tattoo (side comment:  that back piece you're getting looks ridiculous, Sergio!), the tattoos the men of Lily's boudoir have are not of swastikas or any Nazi propaganda.  Not one single "I heart Hitler" tattoo in the bunch of them.    


Needless to say, I was quite floored to learn that this man from my long, long ago past had taken quite a different path from when I knew him.  I also breathed a sigh of relief that he's not on my Christmas card list ... "I went to India for Christmas and New Year's - what did you do?  Ohhh, got another swastika tattoo and you believe I should die because I am impure and am of mixed race?  Gee, that's keeping with the holiday spirit.  I bought you a waffle maker ... perhaps you can use it for all those KKK brunches.  What?  Neo Nazis are different from the KKK?  Yeah, I guess I am hate-blind ... so hard to keep all those hate groups apart.  Merry Christmas!"           


And while in my heart of hearts, I don't believe that a brief fling with this sexually voracious 1/2 Asian dynamo actually turned this particular man into a Neo Nazi drug dealing, allegedly homicidal ex-con ... It is scarily interesting to contemplate and is just one more colorful story for the train wreck that is my dating life!


So Rachel Dratch, you may have your triumvirate of addiction boyfriends, but I raise you a "My vagina turns out Hitler Youth" card ... Consider yourself trumped in this game, Ms. Comedian!  Evidently I am the winner and the "takes all" means admitting I had a fling with someone who now is covered in swastika tattoos.  Um ... win-win?


And THAT is my 149th blog post ... maybe I should just stick to posting recipes.