Matchmaking Woes…

I can’t remember exactly WHEN I started matchmaking, but it seems like I’ve been doing it forever…  In fact, I clearly remember trying to set people up back when I was in high school.  Most kids seemed open to it, however I was always asked the same question, even to this day: “Why?  Why do you keep doing it?”  I can’t explain it, it just makes me happy to see two people come together and form a relationship of some sort.  Whether its a long term relationship that ends in marriage and children, or something short-lived until both parties decide to move on.  Either way, it brings me joy.  I wake up in the middle of the night with an Aha! moment, knowing who I am going to set up the next day.
As much joy matchmaking brings me, there are some definite upsets that come along with it also…  Maybe its a sign of times, but lately I’ve been having the hardest time with single ladies between the ages of 35 and 45.  It’s not that they are opposed to the idea or mind paying for matchmaking services, but rather very cautious almost too cautious about being set up on a date.  Not only are they hesitant about giving me their real age and history of past relationships, but they also proceed very slowly and with great fear!

As the world evolved and allowed women to be completely independent from men, sometimes earning higher salaries, having great friends, apartments and a social life – so has the need for having a man in our lives.  It’s sad and wonderful at the same time.  These days the men who come to me for help are a lot more open about it, even when it comes to light “coaching”, appearance and dating advice.  Women on the other hand… not so much.  They seem very set in their ways as they get older, and unless I bring them “The Perfect Guy” don’t mind staying single.  I can’t say that I blame them, after all they do seem to have it all so why bother wasting a night on a potentially wrong date?  But then again, I am not usually wrong when I pair two people up and besides What Do You Have To Lose?  Not much.  And hopefully a lot to gain!  Who doesn’t want someone to come home to, or curl up on the couch with that isn’t covered in drool and animal hair?  Sure your cat or dog can’t talk back, but they also can’t give you an opinion on a pressing matter, give you an orgasm or bring you a hot cup of tea when you are ill…

If you or someone you know is interested in my matchmaking services – visit Match By Julia.  I will be more than happy to help you find a partner in life!

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Hooters, children and me being the greatest parent that ever lived…

Yesterday was the last day of my children’s freedom, and incidentally the last day of my imprisonment.  As I counted down the dwindling hours of winter break, I was also counting down the hours till my head was going to stop throbbing and my voice would sound human again (oppose to a hissing, barking, and squealing-female version of a prison guard type of a voice).

So, I decided to reward my boys with a lunch at Red Robin (mainly because I had a coupon) to celebrate their last day of vacation!  Even though they didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill and sarcasm about the whole thing, they still agreed to go.  What a tough life!  Poor little children being taken out to lunch after having endured two weeks of fancy shmancy activities, trips, restaurants and who could forget not one but eight nights of Hanukkah.  Next year, I already told them that they will be taking a little trip to Skid Row for the holidays; and later I will re-wrap their already played and forgotten toys for Hanukkah.

After being seated along with the many other Moms who had the same exact idea, I tried making conversation in between Atari’s Breakout and NimbleBit’s Tiny Tower; yes they are over Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies or whatever the hell their names are.  Let me tell you, it requires some serious mad skills to be able to carry on a conversation with your Mother while building a whole condominium at the same time, and don’t get me started on those pesty little people walking around needing something every ten minutes, the alarm on Tiny Tower is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard in my life, right next to a child crying and whining at the table next to me while I’m trying to enjoy an ‘Adults Only’ dinner.  Why is it that its perfectly alright for the child to throw a fit in a public place, but it is NOT alright for me to come over to it and smack it on the head?  My theory is if the child’s parent isn’t going to do anything about it, that clearly means they want other adults to do something about their annoying child’s behavior.  You with me on this?  Good, moving on.  Oh wait, one more thing before moving on…  As my Father likes to say quite often, “When I was a little boy in Lithuania (FYI, we lived in Latvia, but that’s not the point) if a child ever talked or cried in public, any adult was allowed to come up and shut that bastard up!  End of story.”  Alright, so I added the last part from myself but you get the point here.

Somehow I managed to get my kids’ little eyes away from their iPods long enough to have a five-minute dialogue about our adventures in Florida back in the day.  Specifically, my oldest wanted to know why I took him to a ‘HOOTERS’ restaurant in Orlando one day.  His words: “Mom, I just don’t understand.  I was only like 7 or 8 at the time!  Why would you think it was appropriate for me to see girls in very short shorts and boobs everywhere serving me food?  If I wanted to see that, I’d stay at home and look at you.”  First of all let’s get something straight, I’ve never in my whole life worn short shorts or shorts of any kind.  My idea of shorts are pants that come up to my calf, I believe they are called ‘Mom shorts’ a.k.a. Capris.  Second of all, I have never until that day been to a Hooters restaurant, nor have I heard much about it.  Sure I’ve heard the name, but didn’t know what it was about.  Believe me, as soon as we walked in I realized it was not your typical place to eat.  Maybe we stayed because I was curious, and maybe it was because we were both starving and the other closest restaurant was not close by.  After explaining such to my twelve-year-old, he seemed pretty satisfied with the answer and immediately after went back to destroying aliens, or building a house for them, not quite sure which one.  After a minute, he looked up and added this interesting fact: “It’s OK Mom, I am not mad at you.  Turns out most of my friends have been to Hooters with their Dads anyway, so it wasn’t just me that was put through that torture.  And to tell the truth, I like girls now so its OK.  Let me know if you’d like to go there again.”  Oh thanks son, make me feel like the worst parent ever, then reward me with that little announcement…

My six-year-old caught wind of ‘boob talk’ and decided to chime in, specifically wanting to know where there’s such a place with girls in short shorts and boobs everywhere, and more importantly why I’ve never taken HIM there?  Oye, how can one brother be so different from the other?  One is all about the rules and structure, and the other only wants to have a good time.  Boy I sure hope the older one doesn’t find out about my new tattoos, there is a lecture I’d like to avoid.  Last time it only lasted a week, who knows how long this one will take…  I plan on keeping a shirt on whenever taking him to the pool, beach and anywhere else that requires a swimsuit.  Stay tuned for that conversation, I am planning on recording it…

 

Kate Winslet’s Fight Against Plastic Surgery

Kate Winslet started a campaign against plastic surgery in Hollywood.  I am starting my own campaign against Kate Winslet.  Really Kate, you are against cosmetic surgery, and are encouraging other Hollywood starlets not to fall under its magical spell?  Really?  How very convenient for you to start this campaign AFTER you’ve have all your plastic surgery done.

You don’t know what I’m talking about?  Well, let me refresh your memory.  Remember how you gave birth to two children?  Remember how you got really fat?  Remember how you had all that ugly, saggy skin hanging and hated your body?  Remember how you lost all that baby weight, and all of a sudden had even more sagging skin?  Remember all those interviews you did saying how much you dislike your body?  Does any of that ring a bell?

It’s really funny how all of a sudden you decide to “start loving my body”.  Sure you are loving your body now.  After all those nips and tucks and Botox injections, or whatever it is they inject into women’s foreheads across the pond (say that with an English accent for better effect; sounds much better), of course you are loving your body now!

How very mature of you, as a role model for girls everywhere to mislead them about what a “natural” woman looks like.  Looking at you at the Sunday’s Emmy Awards really made me believe that your hotness is purely due to working out, eating right and shedding baby weight.  Yea, right!  A tummy tuck, a breast lift, and full body liposuction had nothing to do with the way you look now, right?  At least be an adult about it and admit you had work done.  Do us all a favor, don’t lie to the regular folk.  We are not idiots, alright so some of us are very much the idiots but we still would like to hear the truth.  Own your Man-Made Beauty, Kate Winslet!  Own it!  That’s all I gotta say.

Tooth Fairy money and other useless artifacts of choice…

Apparently, The Tooth Fairy is going through tough economic times too.  10% of children did not receive any money this year, and 7% received less than a dollar.  Are you kidding me?  First of all, I don’t understand the whole “Tooth Fairy” thing as it is.  In what messed up world do you get rewarded with nothing less than MONEY for losing your baby teeth?  This has got to be the dumbest idea a non-parent has ever come up with!

When I was a kid, not only was there no such thing as a Tooth Fairy, but we didn’t have “Fairies” of any kind.  Forget getting rewarded for losing a tooth.  You know what our “big reward” was?  Pulling the damn tooth out yourself, so Grandma didn’t tie a thread to it and the other end to a doorknob, and then yank the door to pull that tooth out.  You were given a simple choice, do it yourself or Grandma will do it for you!  Forget money, forget going for ice cream afterward, forget parents saving the disgusting thing and giving it to your spouse on your wedding day.

You think I’m kidding?  There are people I know that got a bag full of goodies on their wedding day.  Their future spouse’s baby teeth, hair, even molds of their crooked teeth before they got braces on!  I was surprised to hear that it didn’t contain their baby finger nails, and penis foreskin from the guy’s circumcision…  Somehow I have a feeling that those parents might have that somewhere as well, stashed far far away…

As much as I love many American traditions, I think this particular obsession with saving every tiny, mundane and useless piece of childhood is completely foreign to me and maybe even other non-Americans.  I could be wrong.  I mean, take a look at my parents.  Not only did they NOT save my baby teeth or hair, but have thrown a lot away.  Not just MY artifacts, but their own as well.  My parents don’t keep anything, their house is the most immaculate piece of art I’ve ever seen.  There isn’t a single piece of paper out of place, much less an occasional baby tooth laying around.

I am pretty sure that as soon as I moved out of their house, in my very old age of 21, the very same day they packed up all my crap and threw it away.  They don’t even wait for neighborhood garage or yard sales, they just throw everything out.  Their garage looks like someone’s living room, you literally could live in it, it is that clean.  The other day I was rummaging through their garage looking for my old journals and books.  I didn’t find either of those things, however I did find a nice collection of classic books…  all in Russian.  They literally filled a giant boat FULL of Russian books when we immigrated here.  Nothing else, just books.  I am not sure if some genius told them that in America, people will pay millions for those books or what…

So, as you can tell my views on saving baby’s foreskin, locks of hair and other artifacts is a bit skewed, although per my husband’s request I have been saving my kids’ first teeth and hair since they were babies.  Only for him to throw it all away ten years later when he found strange hair, teeth and what looked like the remains of an animal that died from suffocation, at the bottom of a plastic container titled “KIDS CRAP”