"You'll Do" A Dating Site For The Rest Of Us

Yesterday I shamelessly stole and riffed on a Facebook friend's idea of starting a dating site for those of us who have given up on true love and just want to leave the house before they start collecting cats or end up the subject of a reality show.

So I've started work on "You'll Do". Our mission statement: " It's not about "I Do", it's about "You'll Do."

So my profile as the creator and founder is first. Lucky me.

My title is going to be: "Loser At Love"

"Call it bad karma, or poor feng shui. Maybe a misalignment of my stars, but everyone I date, marry, cohabitate with, or share body fluids with has either been in jail, is going to jail, just got out of jail, or has spent time at a psychiatric facility, been in rehab, and been in some sort of support group or 12 step program. Many have entered the Witness Protection Program. I never knew the Jehovah's Witnesses had a protective program! BUT, my various medications keep me an eternal optimist....most of the time. So here goes:

Sign: Proceed with caution!! LOL!!!

Turn Ons:

1. Sunsets. No matter where I'm passed out at in the world I try to wake up to see at least one. I also am a big fan of the drink named after sunsets...you know..the one with tequilla in it.
2. Long walks on the beach. I could sit and watch people all day just walking up and down the wet sand, dodging sharp shells and sea gull shit.
3. Romantic evenings sitting by a fire. But not the ones I've set accidentally--oopsie! My bad.
4. Power tools (don't pretend you don't know-wink, wink)

Turn Offs:

1. Phony people.
2. Bad tippers.
3. Cheaters
4. People who don't like kitties or puppies.
5. Stephen Hawking's explanation that the general theory of relativity is the outcome of the Lorentzian ether through relativation.

I am always on a quest for answers! So of my many musings...

1. How do you know a sunrise from a sunset if you have no watch???
2. Why are sea mammals becoming so violent?? First those killer whales drowning people at Seaworld, then seals killing the world's most wanted terrorist that no one could find for like a decade, and how did they get there?? Everyone knows that Pakistan is landlocked.....duh.
3. Why are there so many quarks rather than anti-quarks? Would an equitable division in the universe between matter and anti-matter be inconceivable or even probable under a GUT?

Anyway enough about me. I'm looking for the following qualities:

1. Human or at least a chromesome count in the 20's range.
2. Not presently incarcerated or have an impending incarceration that you are aware of. "Impending" means you are going to jail in the future and have already been sentenced. It means you have used up your appeals and rescheduled hearings.  Never mind.
3. Have personality. At least one.
4. Are literate and articulate.Read and talk.
5. Are colorful but not jaundiced. Nothing against yellow people. I love Asian food!!

Anyhow, I figure this is going to be as big as EHarmony, or Match.com. If you want to join, please send me your profile. Right about now, all the marriages that started from internet dating should be crashing and burning, so there is a need for my site!

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes

At some point in my adventures as a newly single woman the inevitable will happen. Yes, that ugly four letter word...DATE.

I'm not ready. I may never be ready.


Unfortunately, misadventures in dating are great writing material. No one wants to read a blog about me discovering myself at mid-life and doing lots of yoga. Elizabeth Gilbert already covered that in her book "Eat, Pray, Love". Her book wouldn't have been nearly as interesting if at the end her handsome knight in shining armor hadn't shown up.

My book would be more like "Eat, Drink Too Much, Wake Up With Mysterious Discharge".

I got approached and asked out last week. He was bold, charming, handsome, and well built.

He was 22.
I thought he was a sales clerk and trailing me around for commission.

When he approached me and introduced himself, I stood there flapping my lips like a trout. I don't know what actually came out of my mouth until I heard myself telling him that he was braver than most grown men. Realizing I had insulted him since he thought he was grown, I hastily amended it to "older men".

We stood around and talked some more because I was too embarassed to just walk away from him. He was from Ocala."Oh, I hear they have awesome zip line eco-tours there", I told him. "Yeah, my dad wants to do that", he answered.

 I wonder if his dad is single?

Which leads me to thinking about what the hell would you talk about on a date with someone Travis' age? I know lots of women my age date younger men, but besides screwing yourself into a hell fire burning urinary tract infection, what the hell do you have for common interests?

After polling friends, this is what we came up with as some icebreakers:

1. "So, have your wisdom teeth come in yet?"
2. "Have your testicles dropped yet?"
3. "Oh? You were in 5th grade during 9-11?"
4. "And your teacher looked just like me?"
5. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Travis. Nice to meet you, I'll have him back by his curfew."
6. "No, I'm not so good at beer pong."
7. "The club opens at what time?"
8. "Oh, you don't have your ID with you? Well I guess I'll have to buy the six pack."
9. "I would love to come over and watch you and your friends play "Call of Duty".
10. "How many room mates do you have?"

I could go on forever, but the moral to this story is:

Never date anyone that you could have potentially given birth to.

Somebody should have told Demi Moore that. They could have saved her a lot of heartache and trips to the doctor for cystitis.

Men Do Make Passes At Girls With Big Asses

What was Wisconsin Republican Representative  Jim Sensenbrenner thinking about when he apparently dissed Michelle Obama's efforts toward promoting good nutrition in our public schools by ranting into his cell phone at a church auction that "she lectures us on eating right while she has a large posterior herself.”?

Jim, you gotta problem with big booty girls?

Dear Santa; please find me a picture of Rep. Sensenbrenner caught in the action with a big old ass; black, white, male, female, I don't care, sitting right smack on his face. I know there must be one out there somewhere.
Let me tell you, the ass is where its at. That is the only part of my body I even bother to exercise for. I start looking flat in the ass and I'm downing cheeseburgers and doing donkey kicks. I like mine to jut out there for the world to admire.

Or was this some sort of jab at the Democratic Party?

Look at that that big round ass. Just hiked up there all proud and shit. Makes me glad to be a big ass American.

Rep. Sensenbrenner, you too have some junk in your trunk. So don't be pointing chicken fingers.

Husband For Sale or Lease/Purchase

I thought as a good wife the least I could do is start marketing my husband, or the new term "Wasband" because he is a pretty good deal.

Most people assume you end a marriage because one of the partners is defective in some way. I can't speak for me, as I am a work in progress, but he is just fine. Sometimes it just doesn't work out and I came to a point where I realized our relationship had long fizzled out and that we were just buddies. Some folks can settle for that, but I never settle. So I could continue to make us both miserable, or go seek my life bliss somewhere else. Not necessarily a man or relationship, just maybe finish goals that I set long ago and never actualized.

So, I have a nice husband up for grabs.

Let me list some of his ammenities and attributes:

• He's a hard working man that served his country most of his adult life. He works as a DoD contractor now at Moody AFB.
• He can fix anything of a mechanical, electronic sort.
• He's tidy and can cook sort of.
• He comes with a great insurance package, including vision and dental.
• He's attractive. Yes, he has miles on him, but who doesn't. He's got lots more miles to go.
• His kids are grown and he is neutered.
• He has a new motorcycle and likes to ride it.
• All of his parts still work (you know what I'm saying).
• He won't push his parts on you with any disregard for your feelings.
• He doesn't stay out all night drinking and lose track of time.
• You will never be a hunting/fishing/football widow.
• He has all of his teeth (it's South Georgia for God's sake therefore a valid concern).

I haven't decided on an asking price yet, but I'm willing to do a lease purchase to the best qualified candidate. You need to:

• Preferably be brunette.
• Have a weight and height that are proportionate. He likes a woman with curves so you don't have to be a stick figure.
• Be able to make sausage and biscuits at least once a month. His blood pressure is a little high, so don't let him sneak snacks. He hides them in his car, so make sure you sweep the car for the stash weekly.
• Drive the speed limit and obey traffic laws. He is very hung up on that, but considering my driving record its understandable. In fact, please submit a MVR with your application.
• Shove him out of his comfort zone often.
• Be willing to empty the cat box. Since I've gone, the duty or doody has become his least favorite chore. Its not the highlight of his day by any means.

Other than that you two can work out any other particulars. I'll be working on an application package this week, so stay posted. Please email all inquiries to me at thejuvedermdelinquent@yahoo.com. Include a recent picture and brief biography, resume, and marital expectations.

P.S. That is not a picture of him above, but a stock photo I found online. Serious applicants will receive a picture when they have completed the application.

Good Luck!

I'm Not A Cliche, I'm uNiQue.

It's true. One day after many years of what is referred to as a "low stress, low satisfaction" marriage, I finally chose to leave and go begin at again at mid-life. If you are thinking this is the same plotline as about a gazillion Lifetime Movie channel sob stories featuring strong and courageous middle aged women transforming their lives with grace, dignity, and age appropriate hair and you enjoy that sort of shit, then you should probably exit now. Thank you for stopping by.

A little about me:...well, fuck it, its all about me since its a blog.

I'm emotionally immature and revel in it. I am totally "in touch" with my "inner child". It got a tramp stamp at 44 (expired, but still can be used if the lights are low enough), a nose ring at 45, and  nipple rings at 46. Those are actually useful. If I run a string through them and tie them around my neck I have an instant breast lift.

I listen to hard core rap music. If you are in traffic and the car with the middle aged woman next to you is vibrating, that's me. The bass is pumping, the station wagon humping, old bitch be jumping, and most importantly, don't forget to spay and neuter your pets (read my tag.)


I've never done anything with grace, dignity, or tact. In fact, I think tact kills. Not stress, poor diet, or lifestyle. I think all the pressure of politically correct speaking and worrying about damaging someone else's self esteem or feelings if one should say something even slightly provocative is what causes people to bottle up what they are really thinking. All those bottled up thoughts expand, which causes cellulite and middle aged spread. Then you get stressed because your clothes are too tight. So you buy Spanx to compress everything. That in turn causes your blood pressure to rise, gives you constipation and varicose veins from all that mental and physical constraint, you walk around looking very tense, and then you die. You don't believe me? Look at Hillary Clinton.

That's a Spanx face. She's probably had them on at least eighteen hours, judging by the tendons protruding from her neck. I never want to hear men complain about ties until they spend a day in spanx and an underwire bra.


As the most tactful woman that every came from my family, I am proud to say we live really long lives. We outlive husbands, and everyone else lucky enough to be around us. Or maybe they just fake their death, move to an undisclosed location, and get new identities. But the point is that we set them free by telling them the truth or however that adage actually goes. And they should be grateful.


As for dignity, fuck it. A hundred years from now no one is going to remember me unless I do something so mind boggling bat shit crazy that my former home becomes a tourist attraction, and I become a face on a tee-shirt worn by disaffected senior citizens everywhere.


So I packed my copy of "On The Road", "Catcher in the Rye", and "Feng Shui for Wealth and Success" and moved to downtown Gainesville so that I could attend massage school and get in touch with my inner unemployed adult by living amound unemployed college kids.

To go with my new life, one must have new hair. So I got out my huge sewing shears and x-acto blades and gave myself this really cool shaggy, anime sort of hair. And dyed it jet black. I was going for that so cool Suicide Girl look. So far no one has told me I look like Kris Kardashian or (gasp) even worse, an aging Adam Lambert. I found some ripped old jeans and a few .25 cent t-shirts featuring a rasta guy smoking a huge blunt. I bought scarves that match nothing to top it all off with.

I decorated my very first apartment as a single woman. No boyfriend, husband, children, roommates. I can dance around naked, use the bathroom with the door open, fart as loud as I want, sing along with my favorite songs ( I have the vocal range of a wounded wildebeest), and only have to clean up after myself. It's heaven in a one bedroom.

I know what freedom tastes like now and its the bomb. It's a chocolate cupcake, with raspberry filling, topped with cream cheese frosting, and sprinkled with coconut from Sarkara Sweets bakery. They're not cupcakes, they are some undiscovered form of sugar crack.

Forget about middle aged communities and retreats. Grab your backpack and run away. Let your kids worry where you are at night. See if they will answer the phone if you call in the middle of the night for money or to get bailed out of jail. Embrace freedom!