I'm in 'Girl Jail'

This was an actual conversation about another (different) conversation - let's just jump right in and skip the intro:

Redhead: And then I used the c-word.
Christine: Wait…what?!
Redhead: I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used it out loud before, but it just kind of popped out.
Christine: What was the context?
Redhead: I was…you know…talking about the body part.
Christine: WAIT...WHAT?!
Redhead: It kind of fit naturally into the conversation at the time. The guy seemed surprised though.
Christine: No shit. Men are afraid of that word (for good fucking reason)! But you…you should know better!
Redhead: I know.
Christine: Bad!
Redhead: I know!
Christine: That’s it – give your girl card back!
Redhead: Stop yelling at me!

Annddddd....scene.

Turns out girls aren't allowed to use the c-word either - did anyone else know this? Can I ask a question here? What exactly is so bad about the word? I know it's a no-no and everything, but...why?

Anyway, so now I'm in 'girl trouble' - whatever that is - and I guess I'm in 'girl jail' (which I just made up). Mental shrug.

May – The Month of Lust

Seriously, that’s what Christine proclaimed after some completely ridiculous behavior (on both our parts) last month. Thank God it’s over! Note: I’m actually kind of sad it’s over; we had a lot of fun. Don’t judge me!

Anywho, sort of on the same topic but not really, have any of you people ever heard of the ‘Irish Curse’? Christine spent a really long time last weekend trying to convince me that there is such a thing. Essentially all it refers to is an entire county’s...well, there’s really no nice way to say this – dick size. Apparently Irishmen have wee little peckers. Now I’ve dated an Irish dude a time or two, and honestly…I don’t know. I wasn’t overwhelmed by their size or anything, but I wasn’t laughing at it (on the inside of course) either. Am I just terribly unobservant? Is there a nugget (tee hee) of truth there?

Thoughts? No? OK, moving on…

Ooh, before we do – and while we’re on the subject of Irish dicks – it turns out that Christine wants to spend some time with a particular one. One that you all know (but not as well as I do – oo-er). Wow, when did I get so dirty?

Anyway, I keep going off on tangents, but the big news is…Christine wants to fuck my Bartender! (You may remember him from here and here.) And you know what – I was totally fine with it. In fact, my response was pretty unequivocal:

Redhead: I bequeath him to you – go forth and prosper!

Not surprisingly I was super duper drunk when I said that. But still, the sentiment stands. I don’t want him, and he’s cute and fun, so she can (and should) have him. The only problem is I missed a golden opportunity there, and I’m bummed I didn’t take the time to properly fuck with my friend.

Now, in the sober light of day, all I can think is I should have gotten something for my troubles (and by troubles, I mean handing over my sloppy seconds to Christine). Where’s the guilt trip she should be on? Where’s my free meal/free drinks? Where’s the groveling that is expected when a friend moves in on your (sort of) ex?

I’ll tell you where – it’s at the bottom of my scotch glass. Along with my pride.

Hmmm, and on a completely unrelated note, guess what I had for breakfast this morning? Rolos! Do you guys remember those? I hadn’t seen them in years, but when I stumbled to the vending machine this morning to buy myself breakfast (I swear they sell granola bars in the vending machine, so it’s not always quite as bad as it sounds), what did I see? Rolos! Those bit size caramels covered in chocolate – do you remember them? The ones that are REALLY chewy and make you drool all over yourself. Just me?

Well I bought them, and let me tell you – they were AWESOME! I didn’t even feel stupid (well…not really) when my assistant came into my office and found me slobbering all over myself while eating one.

OK, that’s enough for today. Hey, maybe I’ll post again sometime this month! Wouldn’t that be cool?! Yeah, we’ll see.

Someone Just Sent This to Me - I Had to Share

So my friends forward me stupid shit to read all the time, but this one I really enjoyed. And because I'm so awesome, I decided to share it with you fine people. Laziest post ever? Yes, laziest post ever. (But damn I'm good.)

Hell explained by a Chemistry student

The following is an actual bonus question given on a University of Washington chemistry midterm. The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

OK, One of These Things Isn’t Funny (I’ll Try Harder Next Time)

I was going to post something here last week, but I ended up having a life crisis instead. Ah well. Some Redhead updates:

-Italy was awesome. Fucking exhausting (sooooo many meetings), but fabulous. I ate a lot (mmmm, pizza), drank a lot (Chianti, Prosecco – you just can’t go wrong with either of those), and basically just soaked up the beauty. Is there anything better than sitting outside at 4 in the afternoon, on a cobblestone side street, watching people go in and out of the little chocolate shop on the corner, while drinking your 3rd glass of Prosecco that day? Nah, I didn’t think so.

-Random fact about me you don’t already know – I love orange soda. (Hey, I told you it was random – I don’t really go in for those 25 Things About Me lists, but every once in a while it’s nice to throw one out there.) Anyway yeah, I’m completely obsessed with the stuff. If I’m in a store/restaurant and they have orange soda, I get unreasonably excited and tend to…overindulge.

There you go.

-I am now officially obsessed with the UFC. Last week I found myself sitting home watching Spike TV (don’t ask), and some UFC tournament (is that what they call them?) came on. I was entranced. It has been a long time since something sucked me in like that. I watched the whole fucking thing (and showed up for drinks with friends, oh, 2 hours late – oops). It was totally worth it and I can’t wait to learn/watch more. Two overenthusiastic thumbs up.

-Let’s title this one Stupid Things Women Say to Avoid Being Asked Out on a Date.

So Christine was at work, and the annoying, not very (read: at all) attractive guy who’s been following her around walks into her office. First words out of his mouth were, ‘Hey, do you like art?’ Christine’s answer: No.

What?! OK, ignoring the fact that that’s a complete lie (she’s almost as much of a museum nerd as I am), who says that?!

He immediately started stuttering about a show at the MoMA he’d hoped she might like to see with him, and she cut him off with ‘Sorry, I don’t like art.’

As she was telling me this story the other night, all I could respond with was ‘THAT was the only letdown you could come up with? Not a nice little: I don’t date people I work with? But: I don’t like pretty things and culture is abhorrent to me????!’ Her reply: Hmmm, yours actually would have been better, huh?

You think?

-So who wants to hear about my week last week? Well, really only 1 interesting thing happened. (Well, sort of.) Where to start…

OK so I got off the train last Monday, and as per usual I was in my own world as I walked to my apartment (headphones on, eyes down). I was exhausted after a long day of work, and I just wanted to go home and collapse. Essentially, as I got to the door of my building, I wasn’t really paying attention.

Some guy followed me into my building. (In my defense – and I know I don’t really deserve a defense on this one – it was 6pm, the sun was still out, and a lot of people come home at that time so I didn’t think much of it when he followed me through the locked front door.)

Anyway long story short, I finally got to make my first 911 call! (Another aside – NY 911 operators are assholes. Bitch, I wasn’t yelling at you, I was yelling at the guy who had trapped me in the hallway and wouldn’t leave; I didn’t appreciate the attitude.) Not to put too fine a point on the story (because you don’t need, nor want, all the details), but the guy trapped me near the mailboxes on the first floor of my building, and he pretty much kept me there while he…um…pleasured himself.

On the plus side he didn’t try to touch me. On the negative side…it happened. And it was about as much fun as it sounds.

I don’t really know if I handled it well or not (is there a way to handle something like that well?). Much to my mother’s dismay – when I told her the story later that night – I was a little feisty (verbally) during the whole thing. Now making noise in a situation like that is considered smart. But telling the guy (who was much bigger than I) that he’s a ‘fucking freak’ while all alone in a locked building with him probably isn’t. What can I say – turns out I’m not one to go down quietly (apparently).

So that’s it – I was going to post last week but decided to have roughly 12 panic attacks instead. Still, I’m fine. Much more shaken by the situation than I thought I would be (mostly because I feel so fucking stupid for not paying more attention when I got to my building), but fine. Trust me when I say, I realize the story could have been a lot worse, and I know I’m kind of a wuss for not getting over everything quicker.

And that’s it. Shockingly I’m stepping up my new apartment search. Anyone have any funny stories to share?

I'm Never Drinking Again

At some point I'm going to learn my lesson and stop going out on St. Patty's Day. (I'm so hung over right now...ugh, the pain - some holidays should not be allowed to take place on a Tuesday.)

So, do you ever wake up the morning after going out, and as details of the night start coming back to you all you can think is, 'Oh, FUCK no!'?

Did I really say those things? Did I really do those things?

Um, and on a not unrelated note I am no longer seeing the guy I mentioned in the last post.

If This Seems All Over the Place, It’s Because I’m All Over the Place

I finally saw He’s Just Not that Into You, and I can honestly say that piece of shit movie was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever sat through (and I just watched Fool’s Gold on HBO).

Christine and I went, both really excited to see a slightly exaggerated, funny take on dating today. What we got was a cringe-inducing 2 hours that in no way reflected ANY females I know. I turned to Christine as the credits rolled and said, ‘That had to have been written by a man. I don’t know any woman who would do any of those things.’

Christine’s response was simple – ‘I can’t believe I spent $12.50 on that; what a fucking rip-off.’ No shit.

I’m leaving for Italy this weekend. I’m going for work (just like last year), but unlike last year I’m not taking a vacation after. Oh no, that would be too relaxing. Instead I’m just going to keep running myself into the ground until eventually I collapse. (Please God, let me collapse soon – I think I’ve been running on fumes for the past 2 weeks.)

People, I’m stressed. I’m stressed about being out of the office next week, I’m stressed about 4th quarter (we’re preparing for it now – good timing to go out of the country for the week, right?), I’m stressed about my personal life (I’m dating a guy that I don’t really like, but I like how much he likes me – yes, I know how pathetic that sounds), I’m stressed about leaving my cat in the care of Christine while I’m gone (oh please, please, please let her – my cat, not Christine – be alive when I get back), and most of all, I’m stressed about the main thing that’s REALLY making me stressed…

I quit smoking. Or I’m in the process of doing so – cold turkey (I get off on asserting my willpower…normally…well, not right now). And it’s making me…restless. Uncomfortably so.

Honestly, I’ve tried to quit in the past, but I never really wanted to so I put in a half-assed effort every time (which never works). Now I really want to quit – I think…fuck! – and I’m finding it…AGH!

(A note to everyone who is sitting there thinking ‘Smoking is a stupid and disgusting habit, she shouldn’t have started to begin with and she deserves the discomfort she’s experiencing now.’ Um, 1) Fuck you, and 2) No shit, Sherlock.)

Anyway, everything seems to be boiling down to one solid fact: I CAN’T RELAX! At all. I am dead serious here people, I am INCAPABLE of relaxing right now, and it’s driving me insane.

Most people who know me describe me as some variation of the following group of adjectives: loyal, occasionally distant/cold, funny, sarcastic, and LAID BACK. I don’t get worked up by a lot, and people comment on that! All the time. But now…

I used to get up in the morning, pop open a Red Bull/drink a cup of coffee, and have a cigarette. I used to get home from work and relax with a cigarette. I used to have a cigarette while I was reading, or watching TV. You know…relaxing stuff. Only now every time I want to relax, I can’t have a cigarette…which means I can’t relax. I can’t watch TV. I can’t read. Every time I sit down I want a cigarette, so I haven’t been sitting down when I’m at home (I never smoked during the day at work, so that’s not really a problem). Instead I pace, and stare at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, until I finally have to leave and go for a walk.

I’m a nervous breakdown waiting to happen.

I’ve also been cleaning my apartment obsessively because (stop me if you’ve heard this already) I CAN’T SIT DOWN inside of it. You know what’s also hard to do when you can’t stop pacing while at home – that’s right, eating. Most people gain weight when they quit smoking, but not me…I’m too fucking high strung to eat right now. I also can’t stop jiggling my foot.

Yup, I was a ‘relaxing smoker’ it seems – I smoked to unwind, to relax, to KEEP MYSELF STILL. Now that I can’t, I CAN’T SLOW DOWN. And I’m stressing myself out with no end in sight.

So yeah, that’s what’s going on with me. What’s up with you? Anyone still here?

Not Tonight Alex - I Have a Headache

If I make it through this week it will be a miracle. I have 3 (fucking 3!) business dinners, meetings all day every day, a backlog of contracts that really need to be addressed at some point (yeah, I’ll get right on that Boss), and a guy who’s ALREADY driving me nuts (serves me right for thinking I could trust my judgment after 4 hours of drinking – stop texting me dude!). So what am I doing right now? Catching up on all my work/composing a text that will make Stalker Guy go away for good? Nah, I’m passing judgment on…

A-Rod.

You all knew it was coming. It seems my dirty little secret had a dirty little secret. As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough by my crush, he then had to go and make himself look like more of a jackass. Thanks sweetie.

I should probably clarify something here – I’m not embarrassed and horrified that Alex did steroids. Ignoring my slightly unusual obsession with A-Rod (shut up), I really do have my shit together regarding most things; I like to say I live in a little place called ‘reality.’ So after getting over my first reaction to the news, which was something along the lines of ‘Jesus Christ, ANOTHER one? Fucking Yankees!’ I quickly settled into my second reaction, which was ‘eh.’

Let me ask the baseball fans who visit this site something – were you surprised that A-Rod used steroids? Because I sure wasn’t. This is a dude who a) was playing during what we now refer to as the Steroid Era, and b) is known for being an insecure people-pleaser (and an inept one at that). Was there any chance he WASN’T using? Ah A-Rod, my little spastic mess.

Anyway now that a week has passed since the news broke, I can honestly say he’s handling himself…um, yeah, he’s handling himself poorly. Sorry, but it's true. The press conference on Tuesday was painful to watch. But overall my main concern is whether (or rather how much) this will affect him throughout the season. Much as I’d like to have the guy in my bed, I can honestly say I have no interest in dealing with his neuroses. So Alex, please for the love of God GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! I need you to not fuck up this year – 2008 was painful enough for me; I like seeing my team actually win every once in a while, and you are a distraction we do not need. So step away from the microphone and get back on the field; I know you and your teammates have better ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon. Oh, and hire a new PR team – your current one sucks.

Now to take my lovely Alex’s place in my heart, I give you Frank Lampard. Ladies, he’s newly single, plays soccer (so great legs are guaranteed - seriously, look down), and is filthy rich – who wants to move to London with me?