I'm trying to remember the last time I asked someone out when I really cared whether or not he said yes.

I think we all know that I have relationship problems, as in, I'm not sure how to have one, so the last few times I've asked someone out, it has been through an online dating site where I sort of had the attitude of, "So what?" or "This could be fun, or it could not, and I'll never have to see the person again, so what have I got to lose?" And in their defense, those dates didn't turn out that well (no second dates), so I really didn't have anything to lose but one evening. No biggie.

But when was the last time I did the asking out when I was actually invested in it? The guy from college who re-found me asked me. The hot drummer asked me. The clown asked me. Was it Fucknut? I know I have expressed interest in guys since then (the musician, but in his defense he lives a bajillion miles away so dating isn't really that feasible), but when was the last time I asked a non-online-dating-site guy out and cared whether or not he said yes? Am I only able to do this via email?

Which I guess begs the question, if you are actually invested in the answer, what is the best way to pose the question? Should one make one's investment known (i.e. "I think you're gorgeous and would like to get to know you better, so how about a cup of coffee?") or should one play it as if one is not all that invested (i.e. "Dude, coffee later?")? Which is more likely to get a positive result? Functioning under the assumption that one knows the ask-ee is not completely repulsed by the ask-er's existence, but not knowing if the attraction is at all mutual.

Now, I know there are those of you out there who would say, "Honey, you're a girl asking a guy out, which is hot to begin with, and you're kind of attractive so he would have to be stupid to say no." To which I can only reply, "Thank you, but there are a lot of stupid men out there."

I'm probably way over thinking this. And it is also possible that blogging about it is a mistake, for which I will apologize right now. But I think we all also know that I'm the sort that likes to do the research and find out the best way to go about something before I do it, especially if it is something scary. I'm not sure how to research this one, though, other than to ask other people what is the best way to ask someone out? What was the best way you ever asked someone out that yielded the best result? What was your favorite way that you were ever asked out? Can I borrow that?

I'm curious as to when "standing up for oneself" became "being a bitch." They seem to be synonymous in our society today and frankly, it's kind of pissing me off today. Two separate incidents, one common thread.

I was walking home from the theater last night, crossing the street with the green light and the walk signal, and this guy making a left turn almost hit me. Now, most of us know already that this has happened to me before. I was crossing the street while training for the Avon Walk in 2005 (I think) and a car turning left felt it was more important he turn left in this little open space in traffic than it was to avoid hitting a pedestrian and he hit me. I managed to jump up a second before impact, so it was kind of like I jumped up and landed on the hood of his car, and he slammed on the brakes and I slid off into the gutter. Well, last night, the car was coming at me from the opposite direction and when I saw him turning despite my presence in the crosswalk where I totally had the right to be (and the right of way), I thought to myself "Oh, no. Not again," just like the bowl of petunias, followed by "I'm not as good at falling on this side." I wasn't so much afraid of getting hit because it has happened before and I survived, but its really undignified. There is no graceful way to slide off of the hood of a car that just hit you into the gutter. Fortunately, he stopped just short of hitting me. His window was open so he laughed a little and yelled at me, "Sorry, I couldn't see you," so I replied, "You're supposed to look." At which point, he started calling me names. Because obviously, I was WAY out of line for being upset that I was almost hit by a car. I'm the bitch for pointing out his error. What did he expect me to say? "Oh, no worries. Wherever you are going must be much more important than my ability to use my legs, so it's perfectly understandable. Tee hee." Really? Really, dude? You're pissed at me for being upset that you almost hit me? Really?

Then this morning, I got an email message forwarded from someone I don't know containing some random bit of spam saying cell phone numbers are going public and if you don't call this number, you're going to get charged for incoming telemarketer phone calls. I did a quick Google search to verify that this is hogwash and emailed back the link saying, "Please check your facts before forwarding spam. And please remove my email address from your distribution list, as I don't know who you are." So they emailed me back saying, "U don't have 2 b rude." Which honestly made me want to reach through the monitor and slap them. You spammed me! And you don't know how to spell real words! You are a complete stranger and you spammed me. So I asked that you please refrain from doing so again, and I'm the rude one? Really?

Granted, in that second case, you miss out on the whole "tone of voice" thing since it was an email, but still. Two instances wherein someone did something that I don't appreciate, so I asked them to stop, and they get pissed at my reaction. Am I in the wrong here? When did it become not okay to ask people to either not hit you with their car or to not spam total strangers?

I need to get back to my I'm-About-To-Go-To-Comic-Con happy place. Because in my fantasy world, I'm allowed to stand up for myself without being labeled a bitch. I know. I ask a lot.

So the events of this past weekend mean I didn't cook for the week like I normally do on Sundays, and the events of my evenings this week and coming weekend and next week and next weekend mean I probably won't cook for myself for a while. So I'm whittling down the food I have left in my house and buying lunch at work as needed until I come back from San Diego (Comic Con!) and have the time to once again, make myself a decent meal.

I went out at lunch today thinking it would be nice to get a salad from that make-your-own-salad place, with perhaps some chips (crisps for our British friends) on the side. Granted, I realize that nutritionally speaking, the crisps cancel out the salad, but I do like a bit of a crunch with a salad, especially when the base is spring mix because a lot of those lettuce leaves are really not crunchy. Anyway. I picked up my salad and went to get the crisps and could barely find one bag of regular corn chips. I wanted Fritos, specifically, in all of their original glory. The first store I went to DIDN'T HAVE THEM. They had Super Mega Tornado Blast Pizza Cheese Wow Fritos, but not regular corn-flavored Fritos. They have Garlic Jalapeno Whirlwind Storm Cheetos with a Twist, but not regular corn-flavored Fritos. And all I can say is what the hell? Does nobody understand the simple joy of a corn chip anymore? Do snacks have to be as ADHD as Saturday morning television in order to get people to eat them? I don't want some foreign-colored fake cheese product dust all over my hand. I don't want a list of ingredients I don't recognize. I want a packet of crisps that says, "Corn, oil, salt," on it and that's it.

In the end, I went to another store and found them in the back corner, somewhat sequestered from the rest of the snack foods. I can't be the only person left who likes regular corn chips. Or if I am, I weep for the state of snack foods in America.

So I had kind of gotten into the mindset that I'm a pissy person. I've spent a lot of time griping about things that don't really matter in the long run and being grumpy over things that I cannot control and getting irritated by the behaviors of others who don't do things the way I think they should be done (particularly bicycle riders in the city who feel the need to cut me off, not signal, and not stop for stop lights or signs and then get pissed when cars almost hit them). Admittedly, it's not really fun to think of yourself as a grumpy, irritable, pissy person.

But in the last week or so, I think I have come to the conclusion that in truth, I am sort of an inherently nice person. Most of those icky feelings are just thoughts that I have from time to time, but from a behavioral perspective, I think I come off as a genuinely nice person. And I like that. I like that I could be a genuinely nice person. Or a nice, genuine person. For example, there are several dietary restrictions amongst my Hamlet cast mates, so I made cookies that accommodated all of them and brought them to rehearsal one day because I wanted to. I made a birthday present for my mom that I hoped would make her smile because it was fun and I wanted to make her smile. I had a moment wherein I thought bringing flowers to the cast and crew for opening night might be a bit much considering the recent cookie episode, but then I remembered that I like to do little things like that for other people so that they know they are appreciated. I like celebrating other people. Those who deserve to be celebrated, anyway. I like doing nice things for other people. I like saying please and thank you. I like giving compliments when they are appropriate. I like greeting the people around me with a smile and a friendly, "Mornin'," regardless of the time of day. I like being positive. I like making people smile.

But then, of course, the voice of my high school English teacher pops into my head, saying there is no such thing as an altruistic act and he would accuse me of being a nice person because it makes me feel good. Is that really a bad thing, though? Did I give my cast mates flowers because I wanted to make them smile, or because I wanted them to thank me, or because I wanted them to think I'm a nice person? Was I really being manipulative about the whole thing? Do I celebrate other people because they deserve to be celebrated, or so outsiders will say, "Look how well she celebrates others. She must be a good person?"

Honestly, I don't know. Does that make me not a nice person anymore? I do feel a little weird classifying myself as a genuinely nice person. It feels egotistical or something. But I think I would still rather tell someone that his haircut looks nice than not. I believe that people like to hear that stuff. I like to hear that stuff, so why wouldn't others, right?

I'm stopping now.

Hamlet opens tomorrow. I'm starting to get nervous about it. I've been working on this project for, what, two months now? Three? And finally, we are going to have an audience come in and judge us, and I'm sure there are those who will judge us harshly. There will be those who think the cuts we made to the script were excessive. There will be those who think Gertrude should have been a conspirator. There will be those who think our sparse set and modern costumes don't make enough of a statement. There will be those who just think Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are funny and walk away with only that. And I know this. I know this is true of any production I put up - everyone who sees it will have an opinion and they are not always positive. Hell, remember the one I shaved my head for?

But this one feels different to me because it is such a KNOWN play. There will be people coming in who have seen seven different film versions of it, or five stage productions, or there may even be audience members who were in a stage production of it themselves and it is very possible that our interpretation will offend them for whatever reason. Our Hamlet speaks too fast or our Claudius is too young or our Gertrude is too nurturing or whatever. All I know is that I have worked my butt off in this show - we all have - and it is one that I am proud of. I love the cast, I love the crew, it has been an extremely positive experience for me start to finish. I just hope the critics don't crap all over it. Which they have every right to - it probably looks different to us than it does to them. I just...I dunno. I like this show. I want other people to like it, too.

Though it did occur to me that opening night is kind of a sad occasion, too, because it means we're almost done. Only six more weeks with these people who have become so dear to me and then we'll all go our separate ways again. There is always the hope that we will work together again on some other project, but I know from experience that you're lucky to stay in moderate contact with one or two people from a show once it closes and even then, it takes a lot of effort from all parties involved. So a delightful four or five months is drawing to a close and that makes me a little sad.

But in the meantime, we still have a few shows to put on, and people will get to see the fruits of our labors starting with our final dress rehearsal tonight. I'm excited and scared and sad and nervous and I hope the cute boy in the cast doesn't just disappear from my life once this is all over, though I know it would probably be better if he did. So lots of mixed emotions surrounding opening night tomorrow. Let's all break legs!