Text Message Misery

I woke up this morning to a text message. I thought it was probably going to be from one of my girlfriends or my brother or something, but to my surprise, it was from my ex-boyfriend. And it said three little words. I miss you. Normally, those three little words give you a warm feeling.

But for me on this morning, those three little “I miss you” words didn’t do that. Instead they gave me the lovely “what the crap” feeling. You see, bomb squad and I broke up about 11 months ago and sure, while I missed him in the beginning, I now feel good about it and learned some good lessons from that relationship. And while it’s not out of the ordinary for us to talk from time to time, I was still not expecting the “I miss you” verbiage this morning.

So I did what any normal person would do. I called him. (In case you haven’t figured it out—I’m real bad at letting things go.) After a few minutes of chitchat, I asked him if he wanted to explain himself. He asked what I meant. And I reminded him of the late-night text message. Apparently he was having a case of the feel-bad blues that came in the form of missing me. And while I don’t blame him for missing me (☺), it’s one of those things that is hard to hear and good to hear at the same time. I think everyone wants to be missed and loved, but at the same time, it’s difficult to hear that kind of crap, especially from someone who you care about, but that you would never go back to.

But, it’s not a total loss. Those three little words from him serve as hope to me that someday, I will find my very own man to love and miss when I'm away from. And even though I know bomb squad is not my guy, I still know my own special Mr. Tia is out there somewhere. And I can't wait to find him.

Black Eyes: The Encore

So guess what. I saw black eyes again. No, not on a date—I'm not that desperate! Here's how it went down: A couple of weeks ago I had two journalists in town for work. When we have people in town we typically take them to a popular restaurant on the banks of the Clark Fork River. So anyway, I knew black eyes worked there, but there wasn't anything I could really do about it. I went ahead and made the reservations and didn't give it much thought after that. Then, the day we were going to have dinner I thought to myself, "Maybe I should call and request to not sit in black eyes section." That thought was shortly followed by, "No, what are the chances of him working tonight and having him be our waiter." Well, apparently the chances were incredibly high because at 5:20 PM (my reservations weren't until 6 PM) I got a text from black eyes that said "Your table is ready." Talk about Creepy McCreeperson.

Anyway, we go to the restaurant and are seated and of course black eyes walks over and is socially awkward and wanting to visit. And since I had people with me, I was polite and nice, but really not overly friendly. So after making it through an otherwise pleasant meal (minus his loitering and lingering looks) we left. A few days later, I got a call from black eyes—which I again did not answer—letting me know he was free tonight if I wanted to "come over." Ew. No black eyes, I don't want to come over. Below is what I really want to say...

"Dear black eyes,

First of all, if I liked you, I would call you back. I would not ignore your phone calls for several weeks. Second, I would not have a look of dismay in my eyes when I see you at your place of employment. And finally, I would not shoo you away as soon as possible from my table. I'm sure you are a nice person and although I commend your persistence, I've had just about all of your creepiness I can handle. Please go find someone else to harass and kindly leave me alone.

Many thanks and all the best in your future ventures."

Hopefully he'll get it sooner than later. This little missy is tired of being creeped on.

*If any of you are into creepers, please let me know and I will happily pass along black eyes contact information to you. Hugs and kisses. Tia

Stupid Love Songs

Right now, I'm sitting in my darkened apartment listening to love songs. Probably not the best thing for a single 25-year-old to be doing on a Sunday evening, but it's what I'm doing, so I guess I'll just have to deal with it. Now listen though, I enjoy love songs, especially the simple ones with beautiful melodies and light instrumental accompaniment.

But on this cool March evening, they are making me sad. Which I know could be solved by shutting them off. But I can't. Not tonight.

Every once in a while I get in one of those moods when I get a little bit sad and feel like I may cry. Tonight I'm having one of them. While I have not cried, I am feeling a little down. Here's why: I'm tired (but who isn't). I'm getting sick (and I'm not a good sick person. In fact, I'm a huge baby when I don't feel good.) And my friend just left. (He was here for a few days visiting/skiing, although the main purpose of his trip was to ski the beautiful Rocky Mountain snow of Montana, I was able to spend the last few days with him, which I thoroughly enjoyed. He even put up with my very mediocre snowboarding, full of lots of crashes and me wiping out the cones a few times when exiting the lift.) You know when you are with someone for a few days and you have fun and enjoy being around them and then it comes time for them to leave and you get a little sad?

Those are what I like to call the friend-missing blues. And right now I'm singing them. But I don't think it's just that I miss him, but having him here and having him leave is a reminder of some of my other good friends I miss.

My best friend is 1,500 miles away (or 22 driving hours - I just mapquested it), my big sister lives on the east coast, and two of my best cousinfriends live a couple hours away, which in my opinion, is too far. And to top it all off, the man of my dreams is off playing around somewhere and keeping me waiting yet another day. (Which by the way mister, I have had just about enough of.)

But I guess it's weekends like the one I just had that help me realize the people I love and value in my life. I'm seriously blessed when it comes to friends and family. I have a handful of true, solid friends that I love. And even though I don't get to see them as often as I would like, it's all good.

Anyway, now that I've got that off my chest, I think I'll go to bed. And if I'm lucky, maybe I'll dream about a love song that doesn't piss me off.

XOXO Tia

Happy Valentine's Day

On this day of love, it seems appropriate to wish you each a Happy Valentine’s Day. So here goes, "Happy Friggin Valentine's Day." There you go-hope that made your day.

Anyway, since it is the day of St. Valentine and whatever the crap his deal was, let’s talk about love. To be honest, I love love. I really do. And I think love is everywhere. But because it’s Valentine’s Day, I can’t talk about regular love, I have to talk about being “in” love. And I’m going to be honest about my feeling on this. I love the idea of being in love. Have I found it? No. Have I dabbled in it? Not so much. Has it slapped me across the face? I wish.

But I think it's important to note that even though my time of being “in love” is not quite here, I believe in it. In fact, I am certain it is out there. (Between you and I, I’ve already picked out the guy-I just haven’t found the best way to let him know he gets to love me forever yet.) And while I may not be exactly ready when he decides to love me too, I’m excited for it.

The idea of finding someone to spend my life with and laugh with and cuddle with and have babies with is awesome. It’s probably one of the best ideas ever. And while other people have found it and are having their cuddles and their babies and whatnot, I’m still here. Living the single life, playing around and going on dates with guys who have two black eyes. But in the end, it’s all worth it. I will have paid my dues, kissed my frogs and end up with my very own version of Prince Charming. I just wish he’s hop a plane out here already.

My Open Mic Night

So, as many of you sweeties know, I like to sing. And play guitar. And write girly love songs. In order to express and utilize these likes, sometimes I play open mic night at the always charming Sean Kelly's in Missoula. I hadn't gone for a few weeks and had some new songs I wanted to try out, ie perform, so I signed up and went last night. I did my little set and was sitting down listening to some fellow musicians perform. The first guy that got up after me was a musician I like to call "Mafia Man." And while I only bring one guitar with me to open mic, he brought two. That's right...TWO. And about four harmonicas. Now I don't know how one person can play two guitars and four harmonicas in the space of 20 minutes, but MM sure did. And he was good. There was a tad bit of a creeper in him, but I attribute that to the witness protection program he is currently a part of. But because he said he would record some of my songs, I'm going to let it slide. But I'm not that stupid—I plan on taking my own "people" with me when I do record some songs, just to be on the safe side.

After Mafia Man was done playing, up came two of the whitest jokers I've ever seen. To clearly solidify just how white they were, they both had red hair and I think it's safe to say their skin was even clearer than mine. If that's not creepy, I don't know what is. So these two white munchkins get on the stage (For visual effects please picture one wearing a camo hat with "IDAHO" written across the front in orange letters and matching orange-soled sneakers. Oh ya and picture them both in sunglasses that are cool when you are 12. Got it? Okay we can move on...) and are messing with their guitars. Pretty soon they start playing and the lead singer (AKA skinny arms man) opens his mouth and out comes this gravely, reggae type voice singing some sweet little tune. The next thing I know they switch from reggae inspired to bluegrass. It was during those moments that I developed a mini-crush on skinny arms man. To avoid falling deeper into crush-mode with SAM, I left.

And though I may never talk Skinny Arms Man or Orange Idaho Lover again, I'm sure I'll see them again. Even if it's only in my dreams.

Black Eyes

So I had a date last night. He came to pick me up with two black eyes. That's right, I said TWO black eyes. And a broken nose. First of all, who gets two black eyes at once?! Well according to my source, people who get the crap kicked out of them the weekend before. Of course, the relaying of this story (along with the felt cabin and tree printed shirt he was wearing) creeped me out. Yikes. Anyway, this guy assured me he is a "lover not a fighter," to which I clearly told him I am a "fighter."

The date itself was fine, but to be honest, as a nice girl that doesn't get jumped by randos while out and about on the town, I don't think I'll be going out with him again. If he asks, I think I'll punch myself in the face, give myself two black eyes and have a great excuse not to go.

Where is the follow-through?

You may (or may not) have noticed that I have not posted anything for a long time. And to be honest, I don't really have any good excuse. Apparently, I'm lame.

Last month I came up with a whole list of topics I wanted to write about. Good ones too...well at least in my mind they are good. But did I write about any of them? Nope. "Why?" you ask. Well I don't know. The only thing I can say is that there was very poor follow-through on my part. I'm a bum.

Anyway, to be honest, I'm disappointed in myself. Heck, I've even go so far as to say I've had it with me. So my dear ones, I'm going to get crackalacking on my writing. Expect to see opinionated and embarassing stories coming your way soon.

xoxo Your favorite slacker

How To Tell If He's A Keeper

As many of you know, I am 25 and single. That’s right—I said it. Because of this, you may not think I am the best person to give advice on how tell if a guy is a keeper. But to that I say, mind your business about my love life and instead learn from the knowledge that comes from my years of interactions with non-keepers. Hopefully—by learning about some of the ways to tell if a guy is a keeper—you will one day find someone worth keeping around.

1. He has kind eyes. As poets have said for years, the eyes are the window to the soul. Listen to the poets of yesteryear—these fellas know what they're talking about.

2. He treats women with respect. This applies to all women, not just his mama. It reaches to his sisters, his friends, his friend’s girlfriends, etc. Men are meant to be gentlemen. As such, they should treat each woman like a lady.

3. He believes in something. There is nothing more annoying than when a guy changes who he is according to the people he is around. For example, if he acts like a keeper when he’s with you and then talks derogatorily about women when he’s with the boys—watch it. He's no good.

4. He makes you feel beautiful. Everyone wants to feel loved, adored and beautiful—it's human nature. And if he's not making you feel this way, quit wasting your time.

5. He makes you laugh.

6. He’s more than just a pretty face. So your guy is cute, handsome, dreamy, yada yada yada...that’s real nice and all, but if he can’t hold a conversation, what are you supposed to talk about ten months from now, let alone ten years from now?

7. He is not mean. I know this may sound like a no brainer, but from experience and observations, it’s hard to realize how mean someone is when you are in the middle of a relationship. No one should be mean to you...there is no excuse for it. If he’s mean to you, give him the old hasta la vista baby. He’ll regret it later and you’ll be better off.

The list of keeperdoms could go on and on, but for now we're going to cut if off right there.

One last word of wisdom. Remember as you are learning the steps to life, that it’s okay to be alone. Because you deserve to be with a real keeper and not some creeper.

My Heart

So once again I find myself drifting back to the topic of love and life and I wonder, why do I always come back to this? But I think the answer lies in my heart.



Ever since I was a tow-headed, blue-eyed, dimpled baby, I have had a personality that cares about people. I think some of this came naturally and some of it came from the way I was raised and loved by the people in my life.

And ever since I was a little missy toddling around, I have worn my heart on my sleeve. And because of this marvelous and frustrating characteristic, it doesn’t take long to tell how I’m feeling. And trust me, it’s not like I want you all to know how I am feeling all the time (just some of the time;))…it’s just that I can’t help it!

Frankly, I want to be in charge and in control of my emotions. Sometimes I do well in this effort and at other times, I don’t do so well. Woops. Which can get tricky because the “tough girl” in me really wants to hide the times I am hurting and the fact that I can’t do this—and instead have my heart out there for all to see—really makes me mad and makes me want to fight people.

But at the end of the day, I know that no matter what momentary “crisis” I am in or how sad I may be, I know it’s all going to be okay. Because these experiences I have are part of my life and part of the person I am working to be.

Plus, deep down, I am a lover, not a fighter. And the lover in me is always going to continue on, with a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eyes thinking of what’s next to come.

So, to you I say, bring it on.

The Itallian Stallion: The Story That Keeps On Giving

*Tia's Note: This story happened several months ago and at the present time is basically null and void (as my sister is married), but I still think it's funny. And yes, I still like to embarrass her and I have found that telling this situation is one of the best ways to do it. Love You Patty.


Have I got a doozey for you.

Alas, it’s on love. Or jealousy. I haven’t quite decided which one. I received a phone call from my little brother telling me to come to my parent’s home for the weekend, as he would be there and he would be bringing a friend along that “really wanted to meet me.” I’m sure we’ve all heard that line before. Nonetheless, I agreed. Somewhat against my will, but at the same time also slightly interested at the prospect this set-up could hold.

Now first of all, who really wants to be set up? How many people go around telling their baby brother to set them up? Well, I am not one of those people. I don’t want to be set up. I have not requested for this to happen. But I think my brother decided to do it out of the kindness, or the pity, of his little heart, probably thinking that if someone did not step in and something soon, I would keep going along the way I am now, as a single, career-based and focused woman and turn into a lonely spinster. Point taken, thank you Nick.

So Friday night comes and this man comes home to meet me, while by this point in time, I have become nervous and unsure of how to behave, I believe in part to the expectation that this individual had for me. Now you may think that I blew him out of the water with my stunning wit and amazing rhetoric, as I would usually do. Instead I blew him out of the water is another way. This is the way I behaved: I didn’t talk much (which is not normal,) I wasn’t funny (which is atrocious to even think about,) and I didn’t flirt (will someone please take my temperature?)

Why did I do this? I have yet to figure out. But the saga gets juicer. Picture this, my older (and thinner) sister burst onto the scene as she is home over her Christmas break from Indiana University where she is working toward an MBA and JSD (the overachiever of the family, eww.) Well pretty soon she starts seducing this man who was supposed to be mine – sigh; aren’t they all? – and wooing him with her petite frame, deep-set eyes and upbeat personality. (Once again, eww.)

So I take it upon myself to act very mature and proceed to not flirt with him, as she is making her mark upon him. I also threaten her with sidelong glances and dagger-laden looks. Because she knows exactly what she is doing…boy does she know.

To summarize the saga, they ended up making out in the “family” hot tub, although I doubt the family will look at it the same now, as it has been tainted with their steamy kisses.

Needless to say, I was not a happy little dove when I found out about this and the ongoing samples of affection. In fact, I was filled with emotions that are the opposite of happy. I was so mad at my sister! The kind of mad that is much worse that spilling cranberry juice all over my new white jacket. The thoughts ran through my mind, “How could she do this?” “She is so mean!” “I never really liked her.”

But then I stopped, took a breath, and really assessed the situation. Was I willing to have this anger and resentment toward my sister over a boy that I met five days ago? (Although he is tall, attractive and nice…a combo hard to find these days.) Is this the kind of woman I want to be? You know the kind I mean; they get out of sorts over prospective men, they say their first name with this new guys last name to see how it flows, they choose some joker over a relationship they have had and worked at through the years, and on and on and on.

I decided no. Actually make that a loud, resounding NO. (I would say a H*** NO, but my mother would read this and be disappointed in me, so I’ll be keep that out.) The relationship I have with my sister is not worth sacrificing for a boy.

Plus, his clothes are a little too color coordinated. It would never work out.