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Recently, someone asked me about my most memorable date.  Most of the dates that I have had that are memorable are memorable because they were so crappy.  It reminded me of the worst date I ever had.

When I was in 11th grade, my best friend Debbie and I had met these college freshmen boys from USC.  Details on how we met them escape me.   One boy in particular caught my eye, Dante.  I know. I know.  The name alone should have warned me, but I was young, and he was hot.  Picture it, Columbia, 1986, a beautiful young high school junior meets a hot young college freshman.  Okay, I was slightly above average looking, but he WAS hot.  He had long blonde hair, -hey, it was the 80s damnit- blue eyes, and best of all, he was realllly smart.  I have always been a sucker for a smart guy.  Anyway, after we had all been hanging out one Friday night, I drinking a two liter bottle of Sun Country cherry wine coolers, the rest drinking beer or wine, Dante asked me out.  Woohoo!  Well, I should have known better.  The date was riding with him to Rock Hill to drop off some winter things and pick up some other things because it was getting close to time for school to be over.

That night, Debbies front axle fell out of The Banana Boat and we waited literally hours on Main Street in front of the USC School of Law for her lame ass dad to send a tow truck to get us.  Lord knows HE was not going to do it.  We got home around daylight.  Dante was picking me up at  7:30 to leave for Rock Hill.  To this day I do not why we left that early.  Needless to say, I was extraordinarily sleepy, but I went.  It was downhill from there.

Problem 1

I had explained to him about how we had not gotten much sleep, hoping he would let me off the hook for a small nap (as a REAL gentleman would have), but he said, Aw man, that sucks!  I bet you are tired.  Lets talk about the most boring subject I can think of.  Okay, he didnt say that last partbut he proceeded to do just that!   Granted, I am a relatively intelligent girl.  Even as a high school girl, I could carry my own in most any conversation on nearly any topic. HOWEVER, just because I COULD talk about any topic did not mean I WANTED to.  I do not even KNOW how this topic arose, but someone I found myself in a discussion over the Watergate scandal.  Why were young adults talking about freaking Watergate at 8:00 on a beautiful spring morning?  Perhaps I would not have minded so much if I had gotten more than 1 and a half hour of sleep. I was just NOT in the mood.  Finally, the KIMFINNEY in me came out and I said, Do we really have nothing more interesting we can talk about?  He became a little miffed, but he let it go.

Problem 2

When we arrived in Rock Hill, I was getting my third or fourth wind and we were getting along.  When we walked into his house I met his mother.  SHE WAS AN OLDER VERSION OF ME!  My new crush had an Oedipal complex!  She had short curly dark hair like I had, fair skin, bubbly personality.  She was really nice!  We were also wearing the exact same sweater, color and all.  I was so freaked out.  Dante spent the next two hours ignoring me and talking to his mom.  He was definitely a mamas boy.  She started his laundry!  We had to stay until his dirty clothes were clean.

Problem 3

His father came in and we all had lunch.  I dont even remember what it was, but at least it was edible.  While we were eating, someone was outside practicing a TRUMPET! It was very nearby and we could hear every single botched note clearly.  I was slap happy from the sleep deprivation and the entire twilight zone aspect of this date, that I started laughing and couldnt stop.  I know his mom and dad thought I was a fool.

Problem 4

We barely spoke the entire trip home, so it was big fun.  I did mention that his mom and I bore a striking resemblance. He didnt seem to appreciate the observation.

Problem 5

When we got back to Columbia, instead of taking me home first, he went to his dorm, parking a good two blocks away and asked me to help him carry all this crap we had brought back!  I toted this big ass basket of his freshly laundered clothing while he carried two guitars.

Problem 6

Oh, yeah, did I mention he was a musician.

Problem 7

When we got home, I think he actually wanted to give me a good bye kiss!  WHAT??? He must have been NUTS.  I jumped out of that car, yelled bye over my shoulder and bounded up the steps to my house.  Only stopping once I was safely inside.

This was hands down the worst date I had been on.  I only refer to it as a date because he said, wanna go out?    I didnt hear from him for several months. Then one night, I was working on some project for history  when he appeared on my doorstep.  I invited him in to be polite, which is where the niceties ended.  We made small talk.  He made some comment and I retorted.  It was so unimportant that I dont even know what it was about now.  He said, You always have to have the last word.

I said,  No, I dont. You do.

He laughed and said, Uh. No.

I said, Really?  Then what are you doing here?  You had to get the last word after that disaster of  a date when I yelled bye and took off.

He said, I just came by to see how you were doing.

I just smiled.  I figured if I gave him the freakin last word, hed leave me the hell alone.  Nooooo.  He kept going on and on defending himself.  Finally, I said, Listen, I need to finish this, youre gonna have to leave.

Oh, Okay.

As he was walking out of the door, I did get the last word.  I said, Glad you got that last word you were seeking.  And slammed the door.

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I have a confession to make.  I hate poetry.  I know many of you write it, and that’s great.  I love creativity.  I will skim over it when you post it, but really I just have never liked it.  I tried writing it for a while and it was just  no fun for me. I wrote some decent poems. Actually took a class to learn to write them better in college.  I like THE RAVEN okay and JABBERWOCKY. I like THE RAVEN because it’s full of alliteration which is my favorite literary device.

I DREADED the poetry unit when I taught school.  I taught it and tried to make it interesting.  Fortunately, most middle school girls are full of angst and sadness and unrequited love so they really enjoyed it.  The boys liked some of it when I compared it to rap. I still hated it.  Not as much as Algebra, but hated it nonetheless.  Now Annie has called me wanting help with her Poetry unit.  ACK!  That is what brought all this to the surface. THE DREADED POETRY UNIT OF MIDDLE SCHOOL!!!

Maybe I am just too pragmatic for poetry to appeal to me.  The epics, odes and ballads did appeal more to me. I love to read, but I like to read stories or history.  I am not much of a romantic sort either, so maybe that’s why I don’t see the appeal of tucking in with a cup of tea and book of sonnets. I am glad there are you budding poets out there to pick up the slack for us anti-poetry types. Keep on rhyming and working that iambic pentameter.  Push those rhyming couplets coming.

And please, don’t comment with I haven’t found the right poet or poetry for me.  I was an English major nearly every English class I took involved poetry in some way.  Thank God for Moby Dick.  fortunately I was able to take Shakespeare’s Comedies and Histories and avoid Drama and Sonnets.

I guess I will stick with the poetic stylings of rappers and Dr. Seuss.

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I have a secret delight.  I like drug stores.  I always have.  I can remember going into the Revco on Main Street where a Wachovia is now and wandering the aisles.  I can remember going to Richland Mall and loitering in the Eckerd.  Really, what isn’t to like?  The pharmacies have so much stuff in them!  I love new pharmacies too.  Kelli and I just recently hit the new Rite-Aid in Five Points (located in the former Eckerd).  We are already on a first name basis with the cashiers. They have a lot of fun stuff in this Rite-Aid.  I highly recommend it.

In college Amy Jo and I would go to a 24 hour Eckerd that was by the round Holiday Inn.  We would just wander around and buy random shit.  I still do it.  Last night, Annie and I wandered around the Walgreen’s for a while. There is always such random stuff in pharmacies.  I have bought make up, slippers, tee shirts, garden tools, hoses, seeds, cups, magazines, snacks, cameras, flip fops, hair care products, nail polish, beach chairs, coolers.  I mean the list could go on and on.

I am on a first name basis with my CVS pharmacist.  I have followed him from Five Points to Main Street to Forest Drive and now, to Assembly Street.  He is awesome.  James is better than my doctor.  He knows what pills I have taken that I thought worked well or that gave me problems.  He always tells me about knew stuff and when my pills are going generic.   He always helped me out with THE HOBB’s medications and any drug interaction problems.  I am pretty sure that if he moved to Charlotte or something, I’d follow him.  It’s awesome to have  a regular pharmicist.  When I have run out of refills, he’ll spot me a couple of pills to get me over until the doc calls it in.

One good thing about CVS is that they always put a lot of stuff on serious mark downs.  They always have good mark downs after holidays pass.  Once, Gramma and I bought a shit load of Christmas stuff because we just happened to show up as they were marking things down to 90% off.  She racked up.  I think I still have some wrapping paper she bought then.

Lately, all of these pharmacies have the AS SEEN ON TV aisle.  I LOVE THIS. This past Friday, I actually got to handle a Shake Weight a.k.a. The Hand Job Trainer.

Anyway, just one more dirty secret I have shackled in my closet.

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Okay, I am a big fan of the documentary.  I watch prison documentaries frequently.  These big ass gangbangers and murders all bitching about rough toilet paper and no cable.  WAH FUCKING WAH.  Now, I don’t mean they should be tortured, or mistreated intentionally.  Well not all of them, certain groups, I’m all for it.

I think that some of the people in prison would be better served by serious counseling efforts and drug and alcohol rehab. For the most part we just stick people in the prisons, and they get worse.  (Have I written this blog before? It sounds familiar.  Maybe because I say it to myself all the time.)  Recently, a man was released from prison because he was TOO FAT!  It wasn’t comfortable for him.  WHAT????  Insane.  There was also a guy who got out because he was too small to defend himself.  Then of course, the pedophile school teacher who got out because she was “too pretty” for prison.

Watching the various documentaries, I know that you don’t want to go to prison in California or Lousiana.  A few of them have excellent counseling, educational, and drug/alcohol rehab programs, and those are far more successfull and have lower recidivism rates.  Pelican Bay, San Quentin, Angola, they’re just rough. Even in those hellhole prisons, hardass convicts who have killed unknown numbers of people whine and complain.

This is all just a fucking crock.  These people on the prison shows complain about the crappy food, no hot water to make coffee, having roommates, bugs, just random pussy-ass complaining.  You can rape, murder, pillage, rob, burgle, beat and shot at each other, but you can’t use rough, cheap toilet paper?  You can’t make enough money to buy the expensive shit in the canteen?    Frankly, who fucking cares?  Yes, I know there are innocent people in jail. Yes, I agree some of the people shouldn’t be there, but they are.

GET A REAL JOB AND DON’T GO TO PRISON!  THEN YOU CAN BUY WHATEVERTHEFUCKYOUWANTWHENEVERTHEFUCKYOUWANTIT.

All this bitching, and yet tomorrow, I will tune in to the next available episode of any prison documentary, even if I’ve seen it.

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Maybe it’s because I was born and raised in The South.  Maybe it’s because I was raised by my gramma. I don’t know the catalyst, but I appreciate people who use “good” manners.   I don’t mean proper etiquette, although, I do raise an eyebrow if someone knows what to do with their napkin when they go to the dining table in the midst of a meal or don’t have to ask which fork to use for which course.  I love it when people say “Thank you” and “You’re welcome”.  It is VERY sexy when men are chivalrous. I was watching “Casino Royale” a few nights ago, and when James Bond rises from his seat when a lady enters the room or sits at the dining table, it is HOT!  If I was a guy, I’d get a boner every time. Well, if I was a gay guy, which IF I was a guy, I’d most certainly be gay.  I am a huge admirer of the male anatomy.  I digress.  I love having doors held open and chairs pulled out.  I think it is a huge turn on because it places me in a position of control.  I think some women feel a loss of independence, etc., but what power to make a room full of men stand up just by simply walking in.  Hell, that’s like being a judge or royalty or something!  I don’t expect it all the time, but it is a lovely surprise when it occurs.

Recently, I there was a big discussion about this topic on a local morning radio show.  I was pretty shocked at the numbers of people who didn’t appreciate the lost art of manners.  I require my nieces to say “ma’am” and “sir” to their elders.  I require “please” and “thank you”.  I don’t just require these for my nieces, I require them for myself.  I still speak to my elders that way.  It may be because I am from The South and conformed at a young age to the societal norms of decency found down here.  It may be due to the fact that my gramma raised me and obviously came from a different era.  It was ingrained at a young age to use those words.  It was also ingrained to assist elderly and infirm by opening doors, assisting in grocery stores, taking their trash out, being kind, etc.

Whatever the impetus, I am pleased that I possess these talents, charms, wiles, or whatever you wish to call them.  All parents love me immediately.  I am not Eddie Haskell, but I am polite and appropriate when meeting peoples’ parents.  More than one male friend’s mom has wanted me to marry her son.  Many parents have trusted their daughters because they were going to be hanging out with me.

Don’t be mislead. I can be a royal bitch.  I am only nice as long as you are.

One thing I do hate is being called “Miss Kim”.  I know it’s huge in The South, but I hate it.  Call me Kim or Miss Finney, but not Miss Kim.

Thanks for reading!

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I am pretty sure I should be the new president of the United States.  Here is my campaign platform:

Stupid People Will Be Abolished:  Frankly, the cause of most of my frustrations is stupid people and the things they do.  They can’t drive.  They don’t parent their children properly, allowing them to run amok in restaurants, malls, okay, ALL public places.  Stupid People allow their children to talk back and hit and be bratty as small children because it’s funny or cute.  Then they grow up to be in middle school and need to have their little attitudes SEVERELY adjusted.  They allow OTHER Stupid People to make major decisions affecting our country (i.e. 700 billion dollar mortgage bail out, wars, unemployment, educational policies).  More importantly, Stupid People breed with OTHER Stupid People to have Even MORE Stupid children.  It’s a vicious cycle.

Student Loan Repayment: College graduates who work in any public service type jobs will have their loans repaid at a certain percentage each year. I don’t mean that it will take decades either. This will cover occupations such as: TEACHING (OBviously), firefighters, law enforcement officers, nurses, social services.

National Beverage Enacted:  Unsweetened Iced Tea would become the National Beverage.  I would require it to be served in all restaurants in all states.  NOT that damned instant shit either. REAL BREWED iced tea. YEAAAAA BOYYY

Baby License:  Everyone will be required to take parenting classes as soon as they are pregnant (preferrably before). You must PASS the class to get to keep the baby, or be charged for a live-in nanny.

The Death Plane:  I would enact legislation to legalize The Death Plane.  I have had the imaginary Death Plane for years. The passengers  change periodically.  They are all people who are in the media/entertainment industries and annoy the fuck out of me.  Some current people on The Death Plane Manifest:  George W. Bush, (duh), Paris Hilton, OJ Simpson, Brangelina, Kenley (from Project Runway), Sarah Palin, Warren Jeffs (Mormon Extremist)

THIS IS JUST THE START OF MY PLATFORM.  I WILL BE UPDATING THIS AS WARRANTED.

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Shit I have never been embarrassed about:

*my family – even the rednecky, loser ones.

*liking the following bands or artists: styx, journey, matchbox 20, nickleback (just like jesse), justin timberlake, tim mcgraw,  a lot of Top 40

*big hair in the 80s

*wearing black Reeboks in the 80s

*not getting my driver’s license until i was 21 – almost 22

*growing up a ‘hood rat

*painting my toenails

*having 5 cats and 2 dogs

*being a picky eater

*watching a LOT of television

*reading

*cross-stitching.  yes, i cross-stitch. so??

*believing in God, but not caring what people think, and more importantly, not caring or judging those who don’t

*never having been married

*being a liberal

*my friends

*not being a homeowner

*cussing. i cuss a lot.  a lot.

*talking to my animals and answering for them

*Duke’s mayo

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Addicted

My name is Kim, and I am an addict.  No, not to alcohol or drugs, although maybe to shoes and sex.  I am addicted to a hodge podge of unrelated items.

Shoes.  I LOVE SHOES.  I have over 100 pairs.  The only reason I have bought more lately is because I had foot surgery two months ago and prior to that could only wear the same two pairs of shoes for about 4 months.    I would go without food for the right shoes.

Television. I love it.  I like such a huge variety of shows, I can’t even narrow down my favorite.

Books. I have such a pile of TBR (to be read), that I don’t think I will ever get to them.  However, this in no way stops me from buying more.  In my defense, I do read a couple of books a week, and more during holidays and summer break when I am not teaching.

Bath Products.  I love shower gels, bubble baths, shampoos, hair conditioners.  i have at least two dozen in my bathroom right now, and some still in the linen closet.

Indecisive/Fickle men.   I don’t like this addiction very much.  The other addictions are pretty fun.  This one just pisses me off.

Daniel Craig.  GOOD GOD.  That man is hot.  I would do dirty dirty things to him.

Basketball.  I love basketball.  I will watch games with teams I don’t even care about just to watch basketball.  This comes in handy during tourny time when I do my brackets.

I am beginning to wonder if these addictions are somehow related to The Tumor.

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Today, I got the links to some schools in Bogota.  I am going to send my CV and letter of intent to them this week.  If I get  an offer, I will move to Bogota. Why not?  I have no kids and no husband.  I have spent the better part of my life doing what was required of me or needed from me, so now I am going to do what I want to do.   I would miss my family and friends here, but most of the schools provide return flights at different times.  They also provide accommodations and full health insurance.  HELLO?  So, I am puttin’ the talk on the shelf and bustin’ out the big action guns.

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Last week I started my stuff I wanted to do list for 2009.  Some of them are holdovers from last year that didn’t quite get done.  I had  rough year last year while I was grieving for THE HOBB.  This year, I am ready to move forward.

One thing I have been thinking about for a while is getting a tattoo.  I have an idea of what I want, it has morphed a little, but basically remained the same idea, so I guess I can get it done.  In the past, I haven’t because I was afraid, I would change my mind, a sort of buyer’s remorse, but I think I have it settled.

Something new that I have just started thinking about with our crappy economy and engery crisis is getting a Vespa.  My friend Brice tells me to get a Honda Rebel, another friend told me some other motorcycle I can’t remember the name of.  I have not  been a big proponent of motorcycles in the past. I know they are dangerous, etc.  I know that *I* would be a safe driver, but what about other crazies?  Well, I am not one to really live my life based on fear of the unknown, maybe my love life, but not my everyday living life.  THE HOBB always worried about being at the mall alone or swimming in the ocean or flying, and I always thought, if it’s my time, it’s my time.  So, now, maybe I am having my own mid-life crisis creeping up on my 40th birthday.  I want a kid, but a bike would be cheaper.

I am going to try to get something published, either in a paper or a magazine or something. I write shit all the time.  Some of it I show to people, some if it just sits on my computer, collecting cyber dust.

i’m still thinking…

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