Justlooking

I have a weakness for Italian men. Maybe its the accent, maybe its because I am latina... Han Solo never did much for me lol. Guess different strokes for different folks. LOL I need romance to thrive!

I would miss Please as well... Please is kool! By the way, HAPPY BIRTHDAY PLEASE!!!

I wonder what he is going to say... and what will come of this... I hope something fun and exciting. ← I am hoping for a bottle of fine Italian wine and some freshly baked Italian bread!!! Who knows? ...Maybe, even a cameo appearance on Fabio's next I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! commerical! NO AUTOGRAPHS PLEASE! B)

Oh by the way, I found the website for THE OFFICIAL FABIO INTERNATIONAL FAN CLUB http://www.fabioifc.com/fabio/aboutf.html and I CANT BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! manufacturers, so I emailed a copy of this. After all, I blame FABIO for distracting me while doing the dishes when I should have been babysitting Daddy more closely.

Ty so much (takes a bow). Mom keeps telling me to write a book of memoirs lol. I have many many more that I will post for your reading pleasure. You hear that Setheus? We are two peas in a pod!!!

Couriosity killed the cat. Satisfaction brought him back.

I agree... my wedding was a mess... and I resented my mother and in-laws for it for years.. I still wish I had just eloped... LOL ← The more I see how many marriage sadly end in divorse, the more I yearn for an elopement instead of the all drawn out Cinderella wedding fairy tale with the white horse drawn cart procession, when I marry. So much effort goes into every detail in the wedding instead of working on the relationship for the marriage. I'd rather get to know him inside and out. Discovering all of his ideosyncracies and quirks as well as his dreams and hopes is way more important than worrying if the fucia pink tafeta chosen for the bridesmaids dresses will clash with the maid of honors red hair. Lets get real. Are we marrying the guy or the latest edition of Martha Stewarts Weddings Magazine? One classic example of this was marked by the run away bride Jennifer Wilbanks, who under the stress of numerous wedding showers, rehearsal dinners, and dress fittings bolted cross country this year. Personally, as a romantic I prefer the old jewish wedding feasts that are mentioned in the gopsel of John where Jesus changed the water into wine. The way it goes the guy betrodes the girl and goes back home to set up a honeymoon suite. He has to furnish it with everything that is needed for the 7 day honeymoon. Once the room is completed and perfect, his father gives him the ok to get his bride. In the middle of the night thru trumpet calls the bride is alerted that the groom is on his way and she prepares herself. He comes and takes her back to the honeymoon suite. Now for the next 7 days the guest celebrate and after the week is over the bride and groom emerge as husband and wife. Mom, however disagrees with me, so sometimes just to tease her I will tell her,"Its ok. You can go to the reception. I will leave you a Pepperidge Farm Cake and a six pack and I will see you a week later."

Maybe anb can mean A Nosey Body... by the way, the screen name is Justlooking cause I was "just looking" at the time

Ty so much! I must say I find the overall expirience here beneficial and cathartic. :)

I have kept this secret from him for over a decade... the only way he will know is if he reads this post, and lucky for me, he doesn't have internet! LOL

Ok here goes another scarey story... well sort of scarey... One day I was finishing up the chores at home to get ready for work. I worked 2nd schift so my days were free. Since Mom was at work, I would clean the house, do the laundry, and fix dinner. I love to do housework, I don't mind it at all, but that day everything was in a rush. I was caught on a phone call longer than I had planned. Now it was late and I still hadn't had my shower yet so I could get ready for work. As was Dad's custom, 2:00 pm rolled around and he asked me for his afternoon coffee. I was in the kitchen at the time and had just finished putting a pig to roast in the oven. I carefully served his seasoned coffee (one teaspoon of sugar and a dab of skim milk) at the dining room table that is directly behind the kitchen. I returned to a sink full of breakfast and lunch dishes, turned the water on to fill the sink, to wash them as I had done so many times before. Thru the sound of the running water, I faintly heard the sound of Dad griping about something again. I was accostumed to this behavior which happened from time to time. Not a usual occurance, but a nussiance when it does happen. I couldn't make out the words. The cascade of water mixing with dishwashing liquid muffled it until, I heard what sounded like my name being called. I turned off the water, turned towards him, and asked if he was calling me. "Bring me the butter, please," he asked. I dried my hands off, opened the fridge, and pulled out a tub of I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! and placed it before him on the table along with the butter knife. Now Daddy was raised on a cow ranch, so he loves all sorts of dairy products. For those of you who refuse to drink milk, I can attest to its benefits. Daddy's teeth are perfect, he has maybe two fillings in his mouth, which is outstanding for a man who is retired. The only work he has ever had done on his teeth is getting them capped. This he did, because it was the superfly thing to do in the 70's. However, because of the excesses in the dairy, he now has a colesterol problem. I guess too much of a good thing can be bad for you after all. So Mom has been substituting things in his diet, for example skim milk, ice milk, and I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! I ask him if he would like me to bring him something else and he shakes his head no, that he is ok. This should have sent a red flag! But, being in a rush I quickly return to the sink and think nothing of it. The griping continues so I tell myself, "Think good thoughts... Think good thoughts," as my mind races off into daydream never never land. The tub of I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER inspires daydreams of Fabio and me waltzing down some beautiful narrow streets, in a small beautiful Italian village. He is dressed in a white shirt and jeans, I in a long flowing summer dress with pink flowers on it. We arrive at street cafe where he carefully ushers me into a chair, hands me a rose, and calls the waiter to order a bottle of fine Italian wine and some freshly baked Italian bread. Now the first sink has filled up bringing me back to planet earth. I really hate to waste water. So what I do is have one sink full with soapy water and the other sink filled with plain water. As one dish gets washed, it goes into the clean water and when all are done, I empty both sinks and rerinse the now clean dishes. As the 2nd sink is filling with clean water I hear more muffled griping that I cant make out again. Inspiried by the sinks full of water, I decide to continue on my trip to Italy. This time Fabio and I are off on a gondola in Venice. Acordians play O SOLO MIO, he places a huge diamond ring on my finger, and calls me Bellisima. Again the proverbial bottle of fine Italian wine and freshly baked Italian bread take the stage. Fabio now cuts a slice of bread, butters it generously, and is about to feed it to me when... The griping gets louder. Loosing my patience now, I gaze upon the venetian blind in the window, above the sink in front of me, and say to myself,, "So much for Venice," realizing this is the closest I am getting to Venice today, if ever! See Dad's griping usually dies down after five minuets. The normal protocol is just let him vent. He normally goes on and on for a while and then when its been purged, he will ask if there is something to eat like nothing just transpired. The key is to not ask, back talk, or add your two cents on anything he says, because it will just add more fuel to the fire. Now with both sinks filled, I proceed to pick up the first dirty dish and I hear the soliliquy. "Look at how they bring things into the house, dont eat it, and let it go stale." "Darn, these kids are sooooo spoiled." "How many times have I told Margaret (MOM) not to buy them everything they want?" "I give them everything, cars, house, food, clothes, cable tv, phone, video games, pets, (list goes on and on)" "You don't have to go to college to learn that money doesn't grow on trees!" "They must think I am made of money." "For now on ,I am going to do the grocery shopping, instead of Margaret who just fills the cart, so that the food ends up in the trash once its spoiled, because no one eats it." "AHA!" I tell myself, as I assume the griping is the result that he has read the tub of I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! There had been similar griping when ice milk was used to replace ice cream. I restamp my mental passport destination Italy. This time Fabio and I are riding a white horse. We arrive at a beautiful field where red and white checkered picnic blanket has been placed with a wicker picnic basket on it containing the bottle of fine Italian wine and the freshly baked Italian bread. Fabio and I sit down, he looks deep into my eyes, and finally feeds me the slice of generously buttered freshly baked Italian bread. I close my eyes and just as I am about to declare those famous words, "I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER!", I hear my dog begin to yelp as if someone is killing him in the dining room. Scared out of my witts I turn around. But all I see is Daddy dunking something into his cup of coffee, chewing it alot, and then finally swallowing it with a gulp. He then tells the dog, "You dont want any of this. Its sooo stale its like a brick." Puzzled I am wondering,"What in the world is he eating?" The dog is now bouncing up and down and yelping even more frantically. What I saw next freaked me out so bad that my eyeballs popped out six inches in front of my nose. Daddy reaches past his coffee mug, and reaches his hand into a box of doggie pizza treats, takes one out, smears a huge glob of I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER! on it, proceeds to dunk it in the coffee, just like before and eats it!!! *GASP* I CAN'T BELIEVE DADDY IS EATING DOGGY TREATS!!!. Why did I not tell Daddy what he was doing you may ask? Well its simple. I didnt have a 6'3" tall Italian man with 18 inch biceps there to protect me should the griping escalate to shouting! I turn around to try to gain my composure, and I want to laugh so bad, but I can't in front of him. You know how hard it is not to laugh expecially when you aren't supposed to and you want to?Well, with every yelp of the dog and every crunch I hear I start to shake even more. Just when it couldn't get worse, I hear daddy scream, "Darn, I lost the cap on my front tooth! These stale junk cookies!" This gives way to tears from my laughing so quietly which since I can't laugh outloud, now it gives way to snorting! As I am wiping the tears with the back of my hand, Daddy notices my behavior, come up behind me and says, "There, there... don't cry princess. It's ok. I will be ok. I just get angry sometimes with Margaret. Just make an appointment for me with the dentist, ok?" Unable to speak I nod ok. He walks out of the kitchen, gets the keys, and leaves the house to pick Mom up from work. As I see the car pull out of the drive way thru the partially opened venetial blinds, I collapse unto the kitchen floor and laugh, and laugh, and laugh!!!

We don't celebrate holloween with the traditional jack-o-lanterns, witches, ghost etc. However, what we do is take advantage of is the opportunity of having a couple of hundred strangers, that we would otherwise never meet, come to our house and ask for something. The best thing one can ever give is CHRIST! So we decorate the house with religious banners, play fun praise and worship music, and turn on all the lights so that the house is really bright. Then we give out scriptures gifts with the candy and tell everyone who comes that JESUS loves them. Each year we get different items for the scripture gift. One year we got a lot of childrens bibles, another year childrens coloring books, and so on. The Lord gave us this project to do many years ago and every year it gets better and better. We wrap up these gifts and the children become excited because they feel like its christmas as well! You can actually feel a change in the spiritual rhelm when they recieve this.

I am glad this question has come up. I always wondered about eternal marriages. I am new too this. Luke 20:28 Saying, Master, Moses wrote unto us, If any man's brother die, having a wife, and he die without children, that his brother should take his wife, and raise up seed unto his brother. 29 There were therefore seven brethren: and the first took a wife, and died without children. 30 And the second took her to wife, and he died childless. 31 And the third took her; and in like manner the seven also: and they left no children, and died. 32 Last of all the woman died also. 33 Therefore in the resurrection whose wife of them is she? for seven had her to wife. 34 And Jesus answering said unto them, The children of this world marry, and are given in marriage: 35 But they which shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage: 36 Neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels; and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection.

ROTF "anb" stands for the first three letters I found in my keyboard when I was signing up. See spmeone told me about this website and I wanted to check it out, but the computer kept prompting me to enter something in the religion feild on the template, before I could move on. I really didn't think I would participate much here, so I just randomly chose something to put in. I figured I would look into it and then go away. LOL However, I love this website now. Its awesome, so I have been coming back frequently. Funny that you ask about "anb", because this very morning I was looking at my profile and trying to correct that "typo" without much sucess.

ROTF "anb" stands for the first three letters I found in my keyboard when I was signing up. See spmeone told me about this website and I wanted to check it out, but the computer kept prompting me to enter something in the religion feild on the template, before I could move on. I really didn't think I would participate much here, so I just randomly chose something to put in. I figured I would look into it and then go away. LOL However, I love this website now. Its awesome, so I have been coming back frequently. Funny that you ask about "anb", because this very morning I was looking at my profile and trying to correct that "typo" without much sucess.

ROTF "anb" stands for the first three letters I found in my keyboard when I was signing up. See spmeone told me about this website and I wanted to check it out, but the computer kept prompting me to enter something in the religion feild on the template, before I could move on. I really didn't think I would participate much here, so I just randomly chose something to put in. I figured I would look into it and then go away. LOL However, I love this website now. Its awesome, so I have been coming back frequently. Funny that you ask about "anb", because this very morning I was looking at my profile and trying to correct that "typo" without much sucess.

hook up: Websters Meridian Dictionary Function: intransitive verb :to become associated especially in a working or social relationship

I'm a little hurt. My story is absolutly true. I'm not afraid of spiders in the sense that I have a phobia but at that particular instant who would have imagined that a large fuzzy spider would have landed on my shoulder right in the middle of the shower!?! I mean I guess it was up on the wall or ceiling or something and it probably fell on me. Lets see how you react in that situation. Being afraid and confronted by something is one thing....being ambushed by it is another all together. Just because a story is good doesnt make it false. I think the story of david is about as far fetched as they come but I dont discredit it based on that fact. ← I as well loved Sethus story. It was hillarious. I wanna know tho, did you ever catch the spider? Did someone kill it?

ty. yes I have plenty of stories to share if you would like to hear them. check my posts in the different categories

I love all types of movies. But, my favorite all time is an old silent film classic titled Un chien andalou (1929) Made by Salvador Dali and Luis Bunuel it is of the surrealistic genre. Plot is as follows: Un Chien Andalou consists of seventeen minutes of bizarre and surreal images that may or may not mean anything. A straight razor seems to be placed by a woman's eye, a small cloud formation obscures the moon, a cow's eye is slit open, a man pokes at a severed hand in the street with his cane, a man drags two grand pianos containing dead and rotting donkeys and live catholic priests, and a man's hand has a hole in the palm from which ants emerge. Its a silent film with extracts from "Liebestod" from Richard Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde" and two Argentinian tangos. The move is 100% illogical, senceless, and crazy. Buñuel (an unknown director at the time) wanted to shock and insult the intellectual bourgeoisie. Dali ( an unknown painter at the time as well) explained, the intention of the film was, "To disrupt the mental anxiety of the spectator," and one of the easiest ways to do this is to thwart the viewer's ability to logically interpret proceedings. At the Paris premiere, Luis Buñuel hid behind the screen with stones in his pockets for fear of being attacked by the confused audience. As the professor explained, the film was made to get a reaction. OK, you must think I am a weirdo now and wonder why this is my favorite all time movie. Well its a required film to study in all cinematography classes. On the day it was shown, Nancy my best friend in college was absent. A few days later when she came back she asked me how class went, and I told her we had to see this wonderful old French film. Being the practical joker I am, I got an idea. Would I be able to pull this off as cleverly as these art geniouses did? "It's a classic ," I teased. "You haven't lived til you have seen this. I learned so much." Nancy brushed me off, to tell me the latest gossip while she slurped on her coca cola slurpee. "We have a test on it tomorrow," I added. "No way!", Nancy exclaimed. "I didn't see it." Nancy continued to murmur things under her breathe about missing class. The wheels were set in motion. Nancy was nervous since she was always driven to get good grades in school. "Well," I added, "The professor put the movie in the audio visual section of the library so we can rewatch it and study for the test. Maybe, we need to check it out" With that we were off to the libray. Trecking thru campus carrying books in one hand and a slurpee in the other, the look of determination in Nancy's face made me chuckle to myself the same way Dali, and Bunuel must have laughed outloud when the sold their first ticket at the Paris Premier. Climbing down the stairs to the audio visual department, Nancy handed in her student id to the attendant and came back flashing the video cassette and two pairs of headsets. She handed me a pair of head set, put a pair on herself, and whipped out her notebook. The movie started as Nancy was carefully titling her page, Un Chien Andalou. Now the bizarre images start to roll onto the screen, along with the soundtrack of the tangos. Within five seconds, Nancy pokes me in the ribs and mouths, "What is this?" I forrow my forehead and feign confusion to such a question. Nancy motions, "Its ok", with her hand and I go back to watching the movie. A few minuets later, Nancy is poking me again. Confused she removes her head set and says to me, "Are you sure we have the right movie?" The librarian quickly mutters the infamous library, "SHH" I whisper, "Yes, this is the one we saw in class." Still in denial, Nancy picks up the box where the cassette came out of, rereads the title and goes back to viewing the screen. I have my eyes glued to the screen, because at this point the look on Nancy's face is about to make me giggle. By now, not only the images of the film are irritating Nancy, but the tango rif repeatedly played over and over is starting to take its toll on her, the very intended effects of the filmmakers. Nancy pokes me again so hard I almost fall off the chair, and now she asks, "Do you understand this film? I don't get it" Another round of ,"SHHHHH," ensues, this time not just from the librarian, but the table next to ours. "Of course, its wonderful!" I reply with an aire of sophsitication. "The only regret I have is that they don't let us eat popcorn in here. A movie just isn't the same without popcorn." To add insult to injury, I reach over and take her coca cola slurpee, and add, "You're not gonna drink this anyways, are you?" Nancy looks down at her books, back at the screen, then back at me and says, "Well excuse me for being stupid, but..." Then she eyes the slurpee now in my possesion which is the last straw. That is when the explitives begin... Totally indignant, insulted, and inflamed, Nancy stands up and starts screaming just about every mean word in the dictionary, encyclopdia, and thesauraus that are contained in the entire library. When she ran out of those, used the foulest street language that can be uttered in the three most spoken languages of the world. And when that wasn't enough, she made some up herself. All eyes were on us this time instead of the predictable SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH that missed its cue. I start laughing soooooooooo loud and now my sides hurt competeing with the soreness from being poked. Puzzled, Nancy looks at me and I explain the background of the film, show her my notes from class. This should have defused the situation, but there is no change in her demeanor. Remembering Bunuels rocks backstage, I slowly back away, turn to the door, and shout, "By the way, there isnt really a test on this!" as I run out! Years later, Nancy's and my friendship has stood the test of time and the test of art. We still keep in touch. We live in different towns far away now. She came to visit me a few years back and ironically there was a DALI festival at the local art museum. I offered to take her sightseeing there. She wasn't impressed. Every so often I will call her and hum a few bars from the tango instead of chiming hello. LOL While writing this piece I had to research information and stumbled upon a website that sells Un Chien Andalou DVD's. Merry Christmas Nancy!!!

Yes, Lechon Asado (Roast Pork) is one of my favorites. I also love: -Cuchi Fritos (Fried Pig Ears in Hot Sauce), -Chicharon de Bayamon (Deep Fried Pig Skin from the town of Bayamon), -and Tocino (Pork Back Bacon), but, I will pass on Morcillas (Pig's Blood Sausage encased in Pig Intestants). For those grossed out by these delicacies, LOL you may be thrilled to know that these dishes were featured on Martha Stewart Living Television Show, durring the Wedding in Puerto Rico episodes. Its a good thing! B)

To kiss or not to kiss... that is the question. I as well was a late bloomer and wasn't kissed til I was 20 years old. I didn't want to kiss just anyone. I didn't want to kiss out of curiosity. I wanted to kiss someone I was romantic about. Hence the delay. I didn't even play spin the bottle or RCK (run , catch, and kiss) in the playground at school. Was it worth the wait? ABSOLUTELY! All I can say is, if you really love someone, if its mutual, and one of those moments then go ahead and kiss them. It is a matter of the heart. Now as you do kiss them, since its based on love, you will be concious and careful about letting it go too far or compromising values. Always pray before you leave the house to see this person. A simple prayer that has always worked for me is where I just level with GOD. I say," Jesus, I really like this guy so please let me come home as pure as I left the house." God hasn't failed me yet. Now advice post kissing is: -NEVER kiss and tell. -NEVER kiss and brag. -NEVER kiss and complain.

If I meet a cute guy I like and he is shy and slow, I will ask him out. None have ever said no to me before, and they usually insist on the bill so its a win-win situation. Plus, it boosts their ego that they were asked so they are more at ease. With these kind of guys tho you need to be direct. Tell him flat out, "Take me out on a date." If you hint at it, and say, "There is a movie I want to see", he may not get it. Remember, these are the slow and shy ones. The lively ones will ask on their own eventually, so be patient. I remember once, I was in college and there was this guy in my humanities class. He was gorgious and looked like the greek gods we were studying. I did all of the tricks like drop the handkercheif, help me with my homework, lets go study alone together. Yet nothing came out of it. He was very nice and helped me, but after a semester of spending so much time with him and no result I got fustrated and disgusted so I found a new love. Well 2 years later, I was at a party and I ran into him. I was like wow its that cute guy that looks like a greek god that I had the crush on. I was single again. This time however, he declared his love for me, told me he has been a crushing over me all this time, but didnt have the nerve to ask me out, because "a girl like me would never be interested in a guy like him." He had the impression that all I wanted to do was study, do homework, and get straight A's, therefore I had no time for a boyfriend. I was like WHAT??? OMG!!! I almost fainted on the spot! I told him I hated that class and only used it as an excuse to spend time with him. To that he asked, "Why didn't you tell me you liked me? We could have been dating all this time." DUH!!! We did date a while after that. However, after that expirience I am not waiting 2 years again. If I like them I tell them. Worse thing they can say is no, and its really not a bad thing, it means you are free to look elsewhere for what you want. Sometimes the best boyfriends are the slow shy ones, they are less prone to getting into trouble. Bad boys get old soon. Now my sister has a talent for finding horrible geeks and giving them a make over into a gorgious guy. That may be an alternative. Maybe, you are just not noticing the diamond in the rough. As for me, I dont like to change people, but find what is special in them. As for men being pigs, some are and some are princes. A good rule a thumb is to follow what JESUS says, Mat 7:6 "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you." Interesting, I have read that scripture zillions of times before, and now I see the connection between dogs and pigs... HMMMMMMMMM LOL Once you do find a prince, keep him happy and you will be his princess. Most of the men I have met are decent. Pigs are few and far between. I can just recall meeting 3 pigs in my life off hand. Maybe, its because they can sence I am Puerto Rican and make a beeline for the door. See, back home the favorite meal is roasted pork. We just love to dig huge pits in the earth, load it with charcoal and fire wood. Then get a long rebar pole and impale the pig on it, poke holes in it and insert garlic cloves. Finally, wrap some banana leaves on it, and slowly cook it until moist and tender by spinning it over the fire. We then sing songs about this accompanied by maracas and a guido. Then we butcher him up with a machete. No pig ever survives til the next morning at a good old fashioned Puerto Rican pig roast.

Teen horror stories involving the bathrooms, spiders, and nakedness will never go out of style. After all that is what hollywood is made of. This anecdote posted above brought back flashbacks of my own experience. When I was 18 one of my musician boyfriends invited me to see him perform a concert three towns away. It was a small town, population 200 including pets, hence a small arena holding about 500 people maximum. However, there were four huge bathroom facilities. Since the bathrooms were so huge and the crowd was only about 100 people for this small town in the sticks venue, some genius decided to use the bathroom space for coordinating the event. Two of the bathrooms were female and two male. So some man, (yes, it had to be a man, because all women know how often we have to powder our noses, not to mention reapply lipstick, and discuss how our dates are going) decided to use one of the female bathrooms for a dressing room for the act, and use the other female bathroom for his office. Funny, I thought only the Fonz used bathrooms as an office. That generously left us of the weaker sex with the weaker bladders no bathroom whatsoever. When us gals addressed our concerns, we were told by another gentleman, "Don't worry. It will be ok. You won't have to go to the bathroom since we rarely go either." Mid way thru the concert, nature called and I needed to desperately see a man about a horse. I quickly thought of my options. I could either go outside in some dark bushes, be attacked by torpedo mosquitos, have to use rocks and leaves for toilet paper, and worse risk being seen by some peeping tom, or I could sneak into the men's room go in really fast, forgoing the lipstick reapplication and having a shiny nose. The latter seemed the safer. For the next 10 minuets as my boyfriend sang to me and danced, I instead had my eyes fixed on the door to the men's room, careful to monitor ever entrance and exit. When finally the last man came out of the bathroom, I quickly took visual attendance again of all the men, saw that they were all accounted for and nonchalantly walked towards the back wall where the men's room was located. I took one small step for my bladder and one giant leap for womankind as I crossed the threshold into the forbidden zone. I was in awe as I looked around my surrounding. The mystery at once had been revealed. So this is what the men's room is like! On the wall I saw some weird looking sinks with some funny looking small frisbees in them. I was not bold enough to explore this so I just walked on by. Maybe these were for the shorter men to wash their hands in since there is such a difference in height in men than in women. Boy, was I naive! I was more interested in seeing if the myth of women's phone numbers written on the wall was real. Finding some scribble proved it was true after all. In a rush, my inquisitive nature compelled me to check each one and make sure my name wasn't on the wall. "How could it be?" I wondered. I was after all three towns away and had never been there before, but then again, it was a small town. A girl can never be too sure. I had become so distracted in my new environment due to my incessant curiosity, that I nearly forgot why I was there. Locating the stalls I walked into the first one, but there was no door. So I ventured on to the second one. In the second one, someone must have past by the first one without time to spare and had gotten sick in it, so again I had to forgo that option. I laughed and told myself third time is a charm, and walked in to find no toilet paper. Not much different than the option that had been presented in a nocturnal nature hike. On to door number four. This stall had never been used, if ever, in a really, really, really long time. I realized that after I shrieked due to it being completely covered with huge, ugly, hairy, beady eyed spiders. There were millions of them and they had managed to weave curtains, seat covers, and doilies all over the place. It was the decorating dream of some morbid halloween movie set. There was no way that this Little Miss Muffet would be sitting on that tuffet! Last option to go was stall number five. At this point I recalled The Lady and The Tiger. This was the last chance for me, and being The Lady, there couldn't possibly be a tiger in there after all I had seen. But then again, who knew what was behind this door. Carefully I slowly pushed the door open, took a deep breathe and opened my eyes to a clean sparkling wonderful bathroom. Finally a throne for a queen. It was the most beautiful commode I had ever seen. The only think lacking was pink toilet paper, however the white would do. Yes, there was a GOD after all. Now I knew how Goldie locks had felt after trying so many different things that were either too this or too that to find the one that was just right. I had hit bathroom LOTTO big time! Just as I was done and about to open the door and brag about my latest adventure, I heard a sound that send chills down my spine, made me ###### in my breathe, and took the color out of my cheeks. It was the shuffle of men's dress shoes on the tile floor. Cowarding in the stall. I tried to calm myself down with the plan of just waiting til he finished, and then slipping out as I had snuck in. Then after about 30 seconds, I heard another man come in. Then immediately five seconds later yet another. This sudden influx could only mean one thing, INTERMISSION!!! My heart sank as yet another walked in and now the men's room was alive with the sounds of footsteps, running water, and some chatter among them. There was no way to hide myself any longer, since it was just a matter of time before someone noticed my pink pumps under the closed stall door. There was only one thing left for any self respecting woman to do. I carefully smoothed my skirt, held my head high, shielded my eyes and walked out of the stall. Of course I walked straight into a man who was coming my way. He looked scareder than I was, so I just told him, "Stall five is the dive avoid one thru four. " As I graced out the door the sound of my heels on the tile floor punctuated, " I came, I saw, I conquered!" My only regret was not being able to wash my hands. But then again it was a small town, in the sticks, three towns away... Who would ever know? Well news runs very fast in small towns and even faster with telecommunications. When I arrived home, I was greeted by the phone ringing. So late on a saturday night, whoever could it be? I answered."Hello?" expecting to hear bad news of some sort. I heard the voice of Fernando, one of my other boyfriends reclaiming, "WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THE MEN'S ROOM THREE TOWNS AWAY?!"