Number one.

A new year - we're restarting the dating numbering.  The first contender for douchbag of the year is from OKC.  We shall call him Yappy since he talks more than anyone I've ever me.  Long, rambling stories that go off on wild tangents.  In his defence, he is fairly interesting; his stories don't make my eyes glaze over.

On the negative, he doesn't really seem to want to listen to me talk about derby.  That's a problem.  But he's tall, dark and somewhat handsome.  Not fat, not thin.

Texted him afterwards and got nothing, so I figure he wasn't interested, but he sent me his email address last night so I guess he is. I suggested a ball gag next time so I'd have a fighting chance at contributing to the conversation.

No money, though.  Not that I have any issue about paying my own way but going out with someone with no money could could get old really fast.  Say what you like about douchebag, but he was well paid in his self-employment, and very generous.

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In related news, I think I find out what derby team I'm on tonight!  I can't believe I may actually be on a team...

White Russians?  These should be for entertainment purposes, not heavy drinking.  I wasn't even drunk last night and I feel wretched today.  Stupid Kahlua. Or maybe it was all the crap-ass food.

My SILs mom died.  Thank goodness, I was afraid she might linger for ages.  So sad, even more sad that my brother didn't tell me like he was supposed to.  Idiot.

At the risk of jinxing myself...

2012 is already shaping up better than I could have expected.  OK, I haven't quit eating chocolate (or cookies) but I have *tried* to cut down.  And I have been running. and I think maybe I didn;t swear twice when I thought I was going to.  Little baby steps.

Also - I finished a sweater.  And bought the zip.  (Let's not discuss sewing it in right now.)  I knit Calvin a new pair of socks.  I knit a legwarmer or two.  I acquired two new knitting machines I don't need (I think we'll sell one to fund the rest) along with some amazingly cool accessories.  I do love knitting machines so.

My dick of an ex has problems with details like who has the kid when.  Whe he thinks he knows what's going on he doesn't reach back into his memory and think: "hmm...  the last three time I thought I knew what was going on I fucked up, maybe I should confirm if what I think to be true actually is true."  Nope, not him.  He just assumes he's right.  He is a man, after all.

So he assumed we'd swapped weekends.  Permanently.  I've had the kids every other weekend for the past year.  It's a recuring appointment in my calendar.  I KNOW when I'm supposed to have them.  Anyway, when I picked up the kids and they told me daddy was supposed to I figured it was happeneing again.

To make a long story short, I don't care.  This, in fact, is awesome and if I had thought about it I might have asked for just this.  Now every single weekend I have a derby event, I DON'T have the kids, instead of just the opposite.  Cosmic karma in my favour for once.

Montreal Training Camp, here I come!!