Ah Sh*t

I blame my sister’s boyfriend. Call it a copout on my part if you want, but I’m still blaming him. Why? Well, the Dickhead came and spent Christmas with us (my mom didn’t tell me until I got off the train in Jersey – I think she knew I wouldn’t have come home if I’d been told earlier). Anyway I was stuck in my parents’ house with this dude for the holidays. And apparently I needed to be polite or something (you know, because I love my sister). Which I was (I can pretend if I have to – shut up, I can), because I’m awesome. Anyway, this ended up being very trying for me (as you can imagine), and as it turns out (apparently) stress makes me stupid.

Oh, and drunk. Stress prompts me to get drunk. (Who am I to argue with nature?)

Uh, just so you know that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Because…well…ah shit. There’s just no good way to say this. Um…fuck it. Here goes:

John and I didn’t end up going to see Juno (as previously mentioned, I was in need of alcohol after dealing with the Dickhead); we went to a bar instead. Where I drank. And drank. And drank. (And of course – this should come as no surprise to those of you who know me around here – I complained.)

Quick sidenote: Yet another reason why New York is the best city anywhere – practically no one drives. And there are a ton of bars here. See how that works out well? Because you know what doesn’t go together? Yeah, drinking and driving. And you know what you have to do in most other places when you want to go out to a bar and drink? Exactly, you need to drive there (and, coincidentally, home). This is both a rant (where’s the logic there?) and an explanation of the situation – ie. I wasn’t driving so I got drunk, John was driving so he didn’t. He was sober. Is everyone following me so far?

Yeah, who wants to guess what happened?

Yup. Just…yup.

We ended up making out OUTSIDE up against his car. (Yes, that would be PDA people – I claim the drunk excuse and DON’T want to discuss it.)

Now that I’m sober and FAR away from Dickhead, I’m feeling more than a little freaked out by the whole John thing. I have no idea how to deal with it (besides avoidance, I’m awesome at avoidance). Thoughts? Suggestions?

You know, I think I already know what my New Year’s wish next week is going to be: In 2008, I’d love to end the year with the same number of friends as I started it with (this whittling down I’ve been doing isn’t a positive thing).

Anyway, how was everyone else’s holiday? Good? Any stories you want to share (that don’t include groping your best friend in a parking lot)?

Happy Holidays!

Hmmm, so it’s occurred to me that I should write a little something today before we all drop off the face of the earth for the next week or so (am I the ONLY person who’s planning on working next week?). Anyway, ummm, let’s try to keep this post controversy free okay (something I apparently suck at)? Good intentions everyone!

On my wish list for the holiday season:

Some sleeping late;
Some heavy drinking;
Copious eating of food made primarily of butter;
Relaxing cuddle time with my parents’ dog;
Relaxing cuddle time with my cat (not in the same room as the dog because…well, my cat has the disposition of her mother. In other words: She can get ornery – in her case this translates into tormenting the dog…to be clear, I don’t torment the dog; even I’m not that horrible);
Some bonding time with my sister (who, sadly, is back together with her boyfriend)…yeah;
Some bonding time with my parents;
Getting a handle on the No Presents for Anyone Yet thing BEFORE Christmas day and WITHOUT too much stress (ed. note: This is a pipe dream);
Catching up with some friends back home in the 2 days I’m going to be there (ed. note: This probably won’t happen either, but I can hope);
Going to see the movie Juno with John – we hadn’t spoken in a while and just caught up on the phone like a week ago – I’m excited to see both him and the film;
More heavy drinking;
Having a few days in the office without meetings next week – score!;
Baking – I’ve been jonesing to get my Martha Stewart on, and the huge kitchen at my parents’ house is the perfect place to do it. (Vote: Are we thinking the classic sugar cookie or something else?);
Receiving my annual present of a Yankee Ticket Plan from my siblings (since I don’t get the actual tickets for another couple of months, I always get a really poorly written poem from my sister on Christmas morning – so I have something to open. I can’t wait, it’s always a REALLY bad poem!);
Receiving my annual Starbucks gift card in my stocking – coffee is NEVER a bad present;
Seeing the looks on my family members’ faces when they open the gifts I gave them…assuming I ever get off my lazy ass and actually get them something. Fuck!;
Trying on my skinny jeans next weekend and realizing they’re REALLY fucking tight and that I need to cut back on the eating of pure crap…wait, this a wish list, so…um…NOT trying on my skinny jeans next weekend and realizing…;
Yet more heavy drinking;
Just seeing everyone that I love and assuring myself that they’re healthy and happy.

What is everyone else looking forward to/wishing for? No really, I want to hear. I care. I do. Ummm…promise.

Happy holidays everyone!

A Little of This, A Little of That

I kind of want to start out by saying that I am not nearly as cranky/angry as I’ve been sounding lately. Honestly.

Good, now that that's out of the way...

-Hmmm, Britney Spears’ 16-year-old sister is pregnant. Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked I tell you! I mean sure, this kid grew up in the Spears family (great parenting at work there), and, according to Perez Hilton, was living with her boyfriend at the tender age of 16, but still, how could ANYONE see this coming?! I just don’t understand HOW this could have happened!

-File this one under too much information: Have you ever thought your period was over – you know, because you stopped bleeding for over a 24 hour period of time – and then…surprise! It’s not. And you’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of panties AND jeans. Hmmm? Oh…right, most of my readers are male. Ummm…sorry about that.

-So I’m going brunette – yes, I know I’ve said this kind of shit before, but this time I mean it. I spoke to a colorist at my salon yesterday and have an appointment for Saturday. I’m thinking a nice, chocolate brown color; kind of wintry, should set off my pale skin well, and best of all it will be DIFFERENT. I need a change. Don’t worry though – you can still call me Redhead.

-A minor ripping on a blogger that I will not name (I’m going to try to avoid upsetting anyone in particular today – I’m finding some people are REALLY sensitive when I openly disagree with them…it might have something to do with my charming personality): So there’s this blog I used to read (off and on) until recently. Why did I stop reading you ask? Well, that one’s pretty easy to answer – it’s because of the writer. He’s…well, he’s pretty much a pussy. And it was pissing me off. A lot.

Let me explain… So about a week ago I’m reading this dude’s latest post – which was almost exactly like ALL of his posts – when it hit me. I can’t stand this guy! All he writes about is his ex-girlfriend. Someone he broke up with like a year ago! Dude, get over it. I understand that she was the love of your life. I understand that you two dated for a really long time. I understand that you’re a sensitive guy. But still…SHUT UP!

There has to be a cut-off point where you’re simply not allowed to talk about your ex anymore. Sure, if they come up in conversation or you have a pertinent story about them (like with anyone else) go ahead, I’m not going to begrudge you that. But otherwise…STOP IT! No one else cares, it makes you look pathetic, and it’s annoying as all hell! Let it go. I dated a guy for 4 years, we broke up, I talked about him afterwards (he was a large part of my life for a long time), but then I stopped. Because I saw the looks on other people’s faces when I mentioned him. And I felt like an asshole for bringing him up so much.

That was roughly 4 months after the breakup.

So, Random Blogger that I Will Not Name, give it up. Complete strangers on the Internet think you’re sad, I can’t imagine what your friends are going through (and no matter what they’re telling you, they want/need you to let it go). Thanks (and yes, I know I’m a bitch).

-The only people that I have Christmas gifts for are my nephews – I’m so fucked. Does anyone have any ideas? I can probably handle my mom and sister, but my dad and brother/sister-in-law (those two get a joint gift) are killing me. Please help.

-I’ve had a runny nose for like 5 days now, and when I cough little globs of phlegm come up. Should I be concerned?

-So what do you guys think of Tony Parker and Eva Longoria? I say he cheated. You?

-If you were going to name your pet after a Greek God, which one would it be and why?

Yup, I think that’s enough – the cold seems to have mellowed out a bit in NY today, so I’m running out for some soup and a hot chocolate. Happy Wednesday everyone!

Thoughts on Theater and…Stuff

So my weekend didn’t get off to the most auspicious start – “Hi Redhead, I just wanted to call and tell you that your mother’s in the hospital…no, no, everything’s fine…no, no, don’t come home.” Yeah, I don’t actually want to get too into it, but let me just say that is not how I EVER want to begin a conversation.

Anyway, after that the rest of the weekend was a blur – thanks to the cold from hell and some fairly interesting over the counter drugs – but I will say that spending three days with a low-grade headache totally SUCKS. Hmmm, what else?

Oh yeah, so I went to the theater yesterday – saw Spring Awakening. Some thoughts: The music was pretty good, the acting was pretty bad, the script was terrible (it was like one long conversation where all you could think was ‘Too Much Information! Too Much Information!’) and…holy shit! This show won the Tony? Seriously? But…how? Why?

I seriously turned to my friend during intermission and said, ‘So, are there any issues that they HAVEN’T touched on yet?’ (I’m not kidding, this show was like a Lifetime movie…on crack.) My friend’s response, ‘I don’t think so…ooh, wait – they haven’t dealt with homosexuality!’

Then the second act started. Homosexuality – check.

(I would actually like to take this opportunity to thank the bar that my friend and I stopped at before the show – those two bloody mary’s totally made that whiny mess of a play marginally bearable.)

As for the graphic nature of the show…eh. The masturbation song was kind of funny, the guy/girl sex wasn’t as hot as I had hoped (although the guy had a pretty nice ass), and the guy-on-guy action…well, that was probably the highlight of the show, but man…those characters would NOT shut UP.

Alright, back to my Zicam, Cold-Eeze, and DayQuil – I’m assuming everyone else’s weekend was cool. No, no, seriously – don’t tell me if it wasn’t; I’m done listening to other people’s problems (that play filled my quota for the week). Thanks though.

Ughhhhh

Well…I just don’t have it in me today guys. Sorry. I know you all deserve a mildly offensive post from me (that some of you will blow WAY out of proportion – just teasing guys…love you…put down the pitchforks!) to end the week, but I just can’t do it today. I’m sick (my head feels like it weighs about 300 pounds, my nose is leaking, my eyes are watering, and I look…hideous), I’m tired (I barely made it to my 2nd office party of the week last night – seriously, I didn’t get there until 8 and NO ONE noticed or cared; damn I’m popular), my coffee leaked ALL OVER ME this morning (damn Starbucks lids), and I have a meeting in about 5 minutes with someone who always sends me really effusive emails…I don’t know what that signifies, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have the energy for it right now.

So…unless someone comes up with an idea for a post that I can write in between meetings today, have a good weekend – I’m going to see a play on Sunday where apparently people have sex and masturbate onstage. Woo hoo!

A Quick Comment

A thought on the Mitchell report: My main observation after a quick scan of the Mitchell report – besides a sort of overwhelming feeling of disappointment (but not surprise) concerning some Yankees players – was that there really isn’t one current Red Sox player in there.

Mitchell was (and will be again) director of the front office for the Boston Red Sox. As The Big Lead said, ‘that’s not really a question, more of a statement.’

I Must NOT Get Drunk

Hey, so it’s my company Holiday Party tonight – actually tonight’s party is just for executives, tomorrow there’s another party for everyone (agh, so much alcohol, so little time!) – anyway, tomorrow’s party is neither here nor there, my point is tonight’s party is making me a little worried. Because people have been telling me stories, of past parties, and the behavior that has come out of them, and the alcohol that flows, and…I think I may be in trouble. Let’s dissect this, shall we?

My last company’s Holiday Party – held AT THE OFFICE, shitty open bar, hors d'oeuvres set up on a few tables, started around 5 (in other words, everyone just wore work clothes), went on for a couple hours, home by 8:30.

My new company’s Holiday Party – held at a hotel uptown (in the Penthouse), apparently first rate bar, this one starts around 7 (everyone who goes changes into cocktail dresses/nice suits – I have my Audrey Hepburn style little black dress ready to go), has a cocktail hour until 8, speeches until 9, and dinner and ‘celebration’ until midnight.

According to my coworkers, things get a little wild at this shindig. I am to expect 1) not to get home until around 2 or 3 in the morning (apparently), 2) to get VERY drunk, 3) to be much amused by whatever theme the party planners have chosen this year, and 4) to see and/or hear many things that will ultimately end up in the pantheon of great/embarrassing company Holiday Party stories (stories that will promptly be relayed to EVERYONE at TOMORROW’S party).

I cannot end up being one of those stories.

So, my game plan is…shit, I have no game plan. Obviously I will try not to overindulge, but it will be hard since everyone else apparently will be (much like at the holiday lunch last week, where I got…well, kind of drunk; but not embarrassingly so).

Do you guys realize that I’m going to be all dressed up, at an open bar, surrounded by my coworkers (all of whom are talking about how drunk they’re planning to get), with the owners of my company nearby (pretty conservative guys), and…

No biggie. I can avoid embarrassment. I know I can. It’s not hard – people do it every day. I just need to pace myself. And eat something first. And not see any men who look good to me. And relax and be charming. And professional. But still fun. And well-spoken. So no slurred speech.

Fuck, I’m so screwed guys.

Houston, We Have a Problem

Hypothetical question: Are there some things that you simply can’t say, even to your best friend? Can one conversation effectively end a decade-long friendship? I’m not talking about a romantic relationship here (obviously one conversation can end those), I’m talking a close friendship.

Oh, and how much time should you allow yourself (assuming you’re the angry party) to cool off before making this decision? Ummm...that's it.

Super Quick Recap

OK, I don’t have the time to give you the long version of my singles party experience, so instead you’re going to get the super short, not even remotely grammatically correct version. Andddd…go:

Went to the party with Christine (who was in a surprisingly good mood – it may have been because both of us were fairly drunk before we got there), and we were pleasantly surprised to find that it was being held in a pretty nice bar actually. As for the men though, they were…eh.

However we persevered, chatting up some boys when the occasion called for it – still, I’ll admit we mostly chilled with each other (what can I say – I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend anyway!). Still, I got my act together fast when I spotted the HOTTIE. (Seriously, this guy was/is so good looking that he deserves all caps.)

Anyway, Christine gave me a shove, I kind of fell into him (great opening, huh?), and we started talking. And it went well – he was charming, and GORGEOUS, and funny, and BEAUTIFUL (I’m sorry, I know I’m practically drooling on you guys as I tell this story, but he really was so impressive it was shocking), and everything was going great. In other words, something really bad was going to have to happen for this guy not to end up getting my number.

Enter: Something bad.

So about 45 minutes into our conversation, one of Stud Guy’s (very drunk) friends comes up to us…and drops a bombshell. It went a little something like this – ‘Hey, why are you talking to him? He shouldn’t even technically be here since he has a girlfriend…oh wait, she’s out of town this weekend. Carry on!’ And with that Drunk Friend walked away.

Christine, who had been chatting with a guy nearby, almost collapsed she was laughing so hard (good friend), Stud Guy, well, he just looked embarrassed, and I…hmmm, I’m pretty sure I didn’t look happy (but I did finish the drink he’d bought me – waste not, want not).

Pretty soon thereafter Christine and I left – in hindsight, I should have spent more time chatting up the cutie at the bar from the beginning of the party. But…I’m a moron.

So that’s my story – boring, disappointing, annoying, blah, blah, blah. Still, let’s have a quick recap of my thoughts: Congratulations Stud Guy! Rarely can men still surprise me, but every once in a while it does happen; your coming to a singles party while your girlfriend was out of town (and trying to pick me up) – that took even me by surprise. Not only did I not see that coming, but I’m willing to bet that your girlfriend didn’t see that coming either. Just…the height of sleaze. Good looking sleaze, but still…sleaze.

How was everyone else’s weekend?

I Hate Coming Up with Titles

A little bit of randomness:

-I’ve had a looonnngggg day. A quick overview:

9am: Sit down at my desk with coffee, begin to go through my emails.

9:30am: Not finished with my emails, but I need to go to a meeting.

10:30am: End my first meeting, andddd…go into another one.

11:30am: End THAT meeting, andddd…go into another one.

12:30pm: Ah, a break – go back to my desk to check emails and listen to my voicemails. Agh, wait…I REALLY have to pee.

1pm: Shit, I have another meeting.

3:05pm: Longest…meeting…ever. Still, now I can…fuck, I’m late for a meeting.

4:30pm: Please let that be it, I can’t take one more…what’s that, Boss? You want to recap my day? Sure, why the fuck not? It’s not like I’m STARVING or anything.

5:15pm: Alright, NOW I can finally finish checking my emails from yesterday.

7pm: Ahhh, blessed alcohol.

-Went to the theater last night and had a really good time (I actually like theater – assuming the show I’m seeing doesn’t suck – but I never seem to find the time to go; still, somehow - thanks to a weird confluence of events - I’m going to like 4 shows in the next three weeks). Anyway, none of that was pertinent in any way, but…wait, where was I? Oh yeah, went to the theater last night for a ‘friend’s’ office Christmas thing (tis the season). They had a whole cocktail hour (wait, two actually) at a bar beforehand – and open bars are always appreciated – and then we all went out for some culture. Thumbs up to a solid night out.

-Not sure why, but Claire Danes came up twice yesterday (how random is that?). Boy do women hate her – the vitriol that was flying was amazing. My thoughts: She’s a fine actress, but when you date a man who has a girlfriend at home who's 8 months pregnant, you’re pretty much asking for everything bad thing in the world to happen to you. Or, at the very least, you’re going to be called the c-word (I didn’t say it mind you, but…yeah, I thought it).

-It’s fucking FREEZING in NY right now. I need to locate my hat and gloves ASAP, because the coat alone isn’t cutting it anymore.

-The Princess Bride is on tv right now – easily one of the top 5 movies of all time – this movie taps into my sense of humor in a way that very few things do. Therefore, the top quotes (for me at least) are going to be forced upon you below - you know, I can recite the entire movie by heart…hmmm, I wonder if those brain cells could have been put to better use? Nah:

Vizzini: When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn’t buy brandy!

Vizzini: Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed, in Greenland?

Vizzini: He didn’t fall? Inconceivable.
Inigo: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it!
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?

Inigo: I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?
Westley: Do you always begin conversations this way?

Vizzini: I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brains.
Westley: You’re that smart?
Vizzini: Let me put it this way, have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Westley: Yes.
Vizzini: Morons.

Buttercup: We’ll never survive.
Westley: Nonsense, you’re only saying that because no one ever has.

Humperdink: Surrender!
Westley: You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.

Westley: What are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where’s Buttercup?
Inigo: Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

King: What was that for?
Buttercup: Because you have always been so kind to me, and I won’t be seeing you again since I’m killing myself once we reach the honeymoon suite.
King: Won’t that be nice. She kissed me!

(and the great one)

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

OK, I’m going to stop torturing you guys now – sorry about the deluge of quotes but I fucking love that movie. Obviously I only really on touched on the best here (if you want to add any, feel free), but in the interest of time I’ll finish up by simply saying this: See The Princess Bride again, it’s that good (I refuse to believe there’s anyone out there who has NEVER seen this movie).

Have a great weekend everyone!

Just Because I’m a Pain in the A*s

So I’m going to another singles party on Friday night, and before you ask:

1) Yes, I’m still on my ‘I’m not dating’ kick right now;

2) No, I don’t want to go;

3) The reason I’m going is because my sister-in-law sent me the invite (her friends are organizing it), and I’m pretty sure my mother put her up to it (and will know if I don’t go);

4) Yes, I’m huge wimp and will torture myself for a night in order to avoid being badgered by my mother (shut up);

5) I’m figuring it won’t be too painful when all is said and done because a) I already have plans for earlier on Friday night so…well, I’ll already be out, and b) my earlier plans involve drinking, so I imagine by the time I make it to the singles party I’ll be pretty buzzed (which, let’s be honest, can make most things tolerable).

Anyway, in the spirit of trying to make peace for yesterday (or, possibly, me just having nothing else to write about today), I figured you guys could help me come up with a point system for all the men I meet on Friday. You give me the guidelines – things they can say or do that will give/take away points – and (assuming the ideas aren’t complete crap), I’ll promise to follow them. That means that if I meet a guy who reaches a predetermined number of points, whether I personally like him or not, I will promise to go out with him in the future. On at least one date.

So there you have it dear readers, I am actually giving you some modicum of control over my life (and I may just end up regretting it). Anyway, have at it. I only have about 4 meetings today (thank God), and then I’m going to the theater tonight (yay, cocktails and theater!), so I will be checking in intermittently to see/comment on your suggestions.

Short Thoughts – I Have A Long Day Ahead of Me

(Note before I begin: I’m a little cranky today – don’t know why. You might detect some of this surliness in my writing. Live with it.)

So I had some time to kill yesterday, and I ended up at a blog that I’d never read before. However, as it turned out, the actual post I ended up reading was written by Yes, I’ll Have Another (who comments here from time to time). Anyway, I read what he wrote. And I had some thoughts – some strong thoughts. Unfortunately (or fortunately considering my mood), I have like 12 meetings today, so I don’t really have time to tear him limb from limb over his presumptuous and annoying Male Point System (or whatever the hell that post was).

Still, let me cover three main points before I run off to my first meeting of the day (why is this asshole 20 minutes early? It’s rude to show up late for a meeting AND it’s rude to show up obscenely early! Don’t these people know anything!). Deep breaths…okay:

1) Any man who truly believes that the woman he’s with is trying to score ‘points’ with him is delusional – it’s the other way around bucko (it’s your job to impress her). Having said that, if you want to date a chick who will embarrass herself to get another date with you, be my guest (just don’t mind the fact that everyone you know will be laughing at you two behind your back). So if it makes you feel cooler to judge a chick by the drinks she orders or whether she’s willing to go down on you while you’re drinking a beer, all the more power to you. But if I ever date a guy who I think for one minute is tallying up every little thing I do, well…let’s just say that’s not the guy who will ever be earning (or deserving of) the much talked about and sought after Impromptu Blow Job.

2) For every guy out there who is psyched when his girl buys him a lapdance – good luck. You just keep telling yourself she’s a keeper (I’m sure she’s trying to convince herself the same thing about you).

3) '+1,000 for every dinner she cooks that actually tastes delicious'? Gentlemen (and ladies), if you’re with someone who actually put the effort into making you a meal, THAT’S worth 1,000 points. I’ve choked down a lot of crappy home cooked meals in my time, and I appreciated EVERY SINGLE ONE. So get off your fucking high horse, if you want a great homemade meal, make it yourself. (I’m assuming if you’re going to pass judgment on someone else’s cooking you must be able to do better – right?)

Oh, and I’m not even touching the points for anal. What is with all the jackasses out there today? Who ever told men that women just want to settle down – and that any guy will do? And how did this false impression of women as desperate translate into every man suddenly thinking that HE was the answer to our prayers? What the fucking hell?

Alright, I’m done venting for the day. Thoughts? Anyone?

I Hate Harry

Harry, you son of a bitch, I can’t believe you tagged me! What is this, the second time in two weeks that this has happened to me? People!!! I have a life here (shut up – I do). Well, since I think I may have been the one to tag Harry last time, I’m going to be nice and let him off with a warning.

OK, here are the rules:

1) Put you iTunes/music player on Shuffle.
Redhead note: I don’t even think I know how to do that, hang on…
2) For each question, press the next button to get the answer.
Redhead note: This is sounding more and more like a bad game of Mad Libs - shit.
3) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT (this is in capital letters, so it is very serious. No hiding you showtunes folks!)
Redhead note: OKAY!

After you’ve answered all of the questions, tap 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do the meme themselves!
Redhead note: Fat chance! (I’m ending this right here – no more contributing to the madness.)

And away we go…

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY? Baba O’Riley – The Who
2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover – Simon & Garfunkel (ed. note: Ha!)
3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Caress Me Down – Sublime (ed note: This is actually kind of funny.)
4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? Sabotage – Beastie Boys
5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE? Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd
6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Three Is a Magic Number – Blind Melon
7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Livin’ on a Prayer – Bon Jovi
8) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS? Here I Go Again -- Whitesnake
9) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? Cocaine – Eric Clapton (ed. note: Ummm...)
10) WHAT IS 2+2? Epic – Faith No More
11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? She Hates Me – Puddle of Mudd
12) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Fuel – Metallica
13) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? The Joker – Steve Miller Band
14) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Low Rider – War
15) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Where Did You Sleep Last Night? – Nirvana
16) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? Wild World – Cat Stevens
17) WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Let’s Get it On – Marvin Gaye (ed note: a) God I hope not, and b) how weird are some of these answers?)
18) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Smoke on the Water – Deep Purple
19) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? Magic Carpet Ride – Steppenwolf
20) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Who’ll Stop the Rain – Creedence Clearwater Revival
21) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Push It – Salt-N-Pepa

Hmmm, actually, some of those answers totally made sense. Strange. Some really didn’t though (I swear!). OK, I’m not passing this on to anyone, but if any of you guys wants to give this a shot, throw your versions up wherever and feel free to link to them here.

Question

This isn't a real post, it's a request for ideas. So okay, here's the deal - I'm having a bunch of friends over on Sunday (all female) for a little bonding time. Rarely do we all find the time to get together, so the fact that we've carved out a whole afternoon where EVERYONE can make it is...unprecedented (at least recently).

Anyway, instead of going to a bar (where we spend more time talking to random men than each other), or brunch (it'll be too late in the day for that), I've invited everyone over to my apartment for Football Sunday - Ladies Style. What does that mean? Well it means that other than me no one cares about football (so the games alone aren't going to be enough), but that my friends are good enough sports to believe I will somehow end up making this worth their while (pressure = me). Don't worry though, I have a solution - obviously there will be plenty of booze there (I'm throwing the get-together after all) and I will be providing plenty of yummy snacks (with no nutritional value whatsoever). However, I think we need more. Sooo...

I've decided to up the cheese factor. This means that I will be playing all the totally great, but equally ridiculous, sports-related music I can find throughout the afternoon. Sounds easy enough - I already have Eye of the Tiger, Another One Bites the Dust, We are the Champions (how did sports even exist before Queen?), and Rock You Like a Hurricane already on my iPod. But I need more - that's only 4 songs. So that's where you guys come in. I want totally cliche, overused music that will get my friends in the mood to watch some football (while bonding). Think you can help? Prove it.

I’ve Had A LOT of Coffee This Morning

Forgive what is about to come, I’m…a LITTLE high on caffeine right now.

Soooo I know I’m not dating right now, but…I’m pretty sure I accepted a dinner invitation for this weekend. From a guy. Kind of against my will. And now I need to get out of it. Tactfully. Even though the only reason I want to get out of it is because I don’t think the guy is cute. Which I didn’t know until I saw a picture of him. Oh, and that was AFTER I already accepted the date.

It’s…kind of a long story.

Short version: A ‘friend’ (OK, acquaintance) decided to set me up on a blind date (don’t ask). I didn’t want to bother explaining my whole ‘I’m not dating right now’ logic, so in an effort to make things easy on myself I sort of let her. Now in my defense the guy was described to me as: Tall (like 6’), cute, brown hair, dimples, VERY successful, and nice. Who was I to fight fate if he was The One, right? Um…right.

Anyway, he called me last night, and it was…interesting. Some thoughts – I didn’t like his voice right off the bat (kind of dorky). He apparently liked mine though, since he complimented me on my ‘gorgeous’ voice right at the top of the conversation. I didn’t think much of it at the time, since I get that a lot (what can I say, I ‘give good voice’). I should have been more concerned though, because boy did the compliments continue. And I have to admit, I was a little thrown (I mean dude, you’ve been talking to me for 5 minutes – calm down). How bad did it get, you ask? Well, at one point he actually said, ‘You have a beautiful brain.’ Ooookayyyyy. (What the fuck does that even mean?!)

He may also end up being a stalker-type. At the very least he’s moderately creepy. You need another example? No problem – let’s play back this little exchange from our chat:

Dude: I live on the 15th floor of my building. I have a beautiful terrace – you should see it sometime.
Redhead: I’m afraid of heights.
Dude: Does this mean I have to sell my place?
Redhead: (nervous laugh) You’re kidding, right?

Gulp.

But I was determined to remain at least sort of positive…sort of. After all, bad voice and personality aside he could still be cute, right? The problem here was he already knew what I looked like (WHY oh WHY did I give this friend a picture to pass along?), while I remained in the dark. And when it came time for him to pressure me into making plans for this weekend (ed. note: FUCK!) I grudgingly accepted. And then I came out with it:

Redhead: You know, I won’t be able to recognize you if I don’t have a picture. Can you email me something?

Well…he did. AFTER the conversation was over and dinner had been arranged. And it was…not good. I’m not happy. But I need to be careful here, since I don’t want to offend the acquaintance who set this up (by LYING to me about what this dude looks like…unless she actually does think this guy is cute, which is…unfathomable really).

Just so you guys know though, there is NO WAY I’m going out with this dude over the weekend, so get your thinking caps on.

Oh, and in other not even remotely related (in other words, random) news:

Christian Bale is smoking hot;

I’m currently going through a weird ‘let’s listen to Cat Stevens and feel deep’ phase – don’t hate me;

I’m thinking about blow-drying my hair out straight tomorrow just to ‘try a new look’ (note: this will never actually happen);

I think Heath Ledger’s creepy looking, but my sister-in-law (who recently saw him in ‘real life’) insists he’s hot – hmmm, I still think I’m right;

I was thinking about buying a bustier/corset thingee, went onto the Frederick’s of Hollywood site to look at them, and then realized I had no use for one and it would be a total waste of money – so of course I bought one. I should get it in about a week;

I don’t want to say I’m bored now that with my professional situation is all copasetic and my private life is on hold, but…;

Why the fuck are people so interested in Zac Efron from that show (movie?) High School Musical? He looks like a girl;

Did I ever tell you guys about the time that one of Jay-Z’s ‘entourage’ came up to me and asked if I wanted to ‘meet’ Jay-Z? I said no;

I am literally BUZZING off of my coffee (oh, and Red Bull) right now;

And…what’s up with me and ‘quotes’ today? I’m such a jackass sometimes.

Go Thursday! Woo hoo!

A Theory

A quick word on PDA before I give you my theory: PDA comes in many forms, some innocuous (hand holding, a fleeting kiss goodbye), some slightly annoying (think-you’re-being-sly-but-you’re-really-not groping), and some fucking gross (full on making out, touching, moaning…YOU’RE IN PUBLIC PEOPLE!). Hmmm, where was I? Oh yeah, PDA.

An aside: I do want to say that the latter form of PDA is really only excusable in one instance – drunkenness. We’re all assholes when we’re drunk, and I totally understand bad decision making under those circumstances. Ergo, the theory I’m about to present does no apply to the stupid, drunken masses out there (of which I’m often happily a member).

OK, to my theory – ugly people make up 99.9% of the PDA perpetrators out there. PDA is an ugly person epidemic.

I’m not kidding, check it out the next time you’re trying not to gag while stuck next to these fuckers. The people who (totally sober) go at it on the train, street, in a restaurant, etc. are almost invariably horribly unattractive human beings. And I think I know why. Hear me out – ugly people must know they’re ugly, right? They must be self-conscious about it. And even though they probably know deep down inside that they’ll always be ugly/fat/awkward/poorly dressed, I’m guessing they don’t really want to accept it. So, in an effort to prove to the rest of the world that they are, in fact, desirable, they kind of lose their minds when they finally find someone who is willing to touch and/or kiss them. And PDA is their way of (metaphorically) shouting from the rooftops – ‘SEE, SOMEBODY WANTS ME!’

Unfortunately, the rest of us have to suffer because of this. Not only do we have to watch something we really NEVER wanted to see (ie. two ugly people go at it), but (horrifyingly) they often do it in places where it’s virtually impossible to leave – like, say, in a subway car at 8am when I’m on my way to work and I have no way to escape you and your hideousness…! Life is so unfair.

The above theory was brought to you by Redhead the Bitch. Happy Tuesday everyone!

Let the Games Begin

Ah shit, this is going to be a long 2 days. Ignoring the whole I-have-to-deal-with-Penn Station-the-day-before-Thanksgiving – aka Hell – thing, it now turns out that my cat has been disinvited to my parents’ house. Um…what?

Yup, my phone rang last night, and when I answered it I was confronted with first my mother, whimpering on the other end (shit), and then my father, taking the phone from my mother to tell me that I could not bring my cat home for the holiday. Um, okayyyy. Why?

Well, turns out my brother and sister-in-law had just called. They’d finally heard back from their son’s (my nephew’s) doctor – and it seems that the little guy is allergic to dogs, cats, dairy, soy, and pretty much everything else under the sun. (He’s been having some asthma problems lately, and everyone’s been concerned about it.) Anyway, as many of you know my parents have a dog (a dog that all of us – my sister-in-law excluded – are very fond of). I have a cat. And since the dog can’t go, my cat apparently has to.

However, the real problem came from how my brother and sister-in-law chose to handle this news. Instead of calling my mother to discuss what could be done to make the house as dog-hair free as possible (hell, my parents pulled up all the carpeting in their house and put down hardwood floors for my sister-in-law a few years ago – she’s allergic to dogs as well), they simply called my parents last night and informed my mother that 1) while they would be coming for Thanksgiving (that’s my family’s holiday – we don’t get them for Christmas), they would just be coming for dinner. In other words, there would be no time spent together before or after the meal. And 2) they would probably not be coming to visit my parents much in the future. Because of the dog hair you see.

What…the…fuck? Overreact much? While my mother cried, my father handled talking to me (after my mother failed to get a word out) about my cat staying in NY for the holiday, and the rest of the family raged.

Now I love my brother and sister-in-law, and I understand their concern when it comes to their son, but calling my mother (a very sensitive and loving woman who does NOTHING but try to be a good mother-in-law and grandmother) to say that they will come on Thursday, but that they won’t be visiting much in the future…that was just cruel. And I’m pissed. My sister is pissed. My grandmother who flew up from Florida to spend Thanksgiving with the whole family is pissed. And my father…well, my father is upset mainly because my mother is upset.

In summation, Thursday should be a rockin’ good time – how much wine do you need to drink to make that kind of awkwardness go away? Happy Turkey Day everyone.

I Love Him

I may not have any of his blood running through my veins, but I like to think (when I’m really on) that my Uncle M and I have a lot in common. Why? Well, mainly this is because he’s quite possibly the coolest person ever – I’m not kidding here, everyone who meets him pretty much ends up worshipping him…or at least the guys do – and I like to think that I have a little bit of his mojo going on (shut up). But most of all we’re similar because both of us are the sort who will tell you what we’re thinking. No matter what. And since I’ve known my Uncle M my entire life, I tend to believe I get a good part of my irreverence from him.

Some background info: My Uncle M is actually my father’s uncle. He and my Aunt L are quite literally family (but we don’t hold that against them). Anyway, at some point my Uncle M and Aunt L joined forces with my parents, and they all became best friends. Now my Aunt L is the “normal” one – always perfectly put together, well-behaved, and appropriate. How (or why) she decided to marry my Uncle M is a mystery – either she’s a masochist or a saint. Because my Uncle M is a handful. He’s also quite possibly the coolest cat ever to walk the earth. And after having dinner with him on Saturday night (Aunt L and my parents were there too), I decided my readers deserved a little Uncle M goodness (you’ve been that well-behaved). You’re welcome.

Some famous Uncle M stories/tidbits:

-On my parents’ wedding day, he went up to my father before the ceremony, and (right in front of my grandmother, the mother of the bride) advised him not to go through with it. His (now legendary) words were ‘Just live with her. Don’t get married unless you have to.’ Obviously my father didn’t end up taking his advice, but that didn’t stop my Uncle M from saying the same thing to my brother on his wedding day. (Didn’t work then either.)

Anyway, a few years ago I asked my Uncle M why – if he really believed what he was telling us – he ever married my Aunt L (and remained married to her for, as of this past weekend, 61 YEARS). ‘Why not just live with her?’ I asked. Without missing a beat he shot back, ‘Because in those days you had to marry a woman to sleep with her. Your father didn’t have that problem.’

Yup, I walked right into that one.

-So that dinner I referred to – the one on Saturday night to celebrate Uncle M and Aunt L’s anniversary – it went well. We all drank, told stories, ate steak…oh wait, I didn’t get to have any steak because I’m a fucking miserable vegetarian…(deep breath)…but I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, so we all arrived at the restaurant to find that it was going to be a few minutes before the table would be ready. No problem, in my family that’s simply code for ‘Race to the bar to have a drink before we go to the table – where we will continue drinking.’

Anyway, I sidle up to the bar and give the bartender my order before turning to Uncle M for a chat. This is how the ensuing conversation went:

Uncle M: I thought you drank scotch.
Redhead: I do, but I also like martinis sometimes. It just depends on what mood I’m in.
Uncle M: What mood you’re in? What does that mean?
Redhead: I don’t know…it just means that sometimes a martini sounds good to me.
Uncle M: Better than scotch?
Redhead: Yeah.
Uncle M: There’s no such thing. You know what your problem is? You can’t commit to anything.

-Speaking of which – my Uncle M drinks scotch. He always has. Now I drink scotch (when I’m not screwing up and ordering a martini). Oh, and my brother drinks scotch. His wife has become a scotch drinker as well. What does all that mean? It means that the three of us want to be my Uncle M when we grow up.

-Ooh, final story about scotch (I think): So the first time I ever got really, truly, legitimately drunk in my life (a story that I will NEVER tell here by the way – it was too, too ugly)…well, let’s just say the point of no return was crossed with a scotch in my hand and my Uncle M standing next to me. He saw what was going on (my brother was being a BAD big bro), he knew how it was going to end up (me – shockingly, overwhelmingly embarrassed), and he did nothing to stop it. But boy does he love pulling that story out whenever I bring anyone home to meet the family.

-My Uncle M once tried to convince me that all men were bastards. He even topped off his argument by saying ‘Your father’s a bastard too you know.’ I was 11 years old at the time. And my father was standing right beside me at the time.

-At my Bat Mitzvah – after the service, during the party – I went up to Uncle M and asked him what he thought of everything (you know, being 13 and stupid and all). His response: ‘The service was boring as hell, but the open bar is making up for it.’

-Want to know how my Uncle M met my Aunt L? She was dating his brother.

-My Aunt L and Uncle M once had a fight that lasted 5 years. I’ve heard the story of what happened (it was totally Uncle M’s fault), and while he apparently showed through his actions that he was sorry, TO THIS DAY he’s never actually apologized. And he’s absurdly proud of that fact. Proving she’s a saint, Aunt L simply rolled her eyes when he chuckled while telling me this story.

-My Uncle M called my parents’ house last week (thinking he had dialed the doctor’s office), and actually said upon my mother’s answering the phone ‘Yeah, I need to schedule a prostate exam.’ I swear to God my mother called everyone in the family to tell them this story after it happened. Then she also brought it up during drinks on Saturday night (yes, we like to give him a hard time too), and dammit…he didn’t even have the grace to look a LITTLE embarrassed!

-My parents’ dog loves him, and she always tries to crawl all over him when he comes over (this is not a small lap dog). So just to mess with the poor dog – only Uncle M could get away with this – he scratches her behind the ears until he find the spot that makes her back leg spaz out (every dog has a spot like this). Then he continues to scratch it, incessantly, until I start yelling at him to leave the poor dog alone. This always prompts him to laugh and keep going. He’s evil that way.

Ah shit, this is getting long. OK, that’s it for now. Uncle M and Aunt L will be with the family for Thanksgiving – I’m sure I’ll have some outrageous story for you next week.

*Update: I have one more Uncle M story to tell (just cause) - when my first nephew was born, his 'Welcome to the World' gift from my Uncle M was a Red Sox hat, Red Sox socks, and a Red Sox onesie. Is my Uncle M a Red Sox fan, you ask? Why no, no he isn't. However I'm a Yankee fan (reason enough in M's mind - he likes to piss me off). My head almost exploded when I saw this gift. I immediately ran out and got full Yankee regalia for the little man to make up for it...and then I forbade my bro and sister-in-law from ever using the Red Sox 'devil's gear' as I called it. Ah Uncle M - he definitely knows how to push my buttons.

Friday Ponderings

-So I had to get up at 4:30 on Tuesday morning to travel for work. Turns out, I’m REALLY not a morning person. Of course, there have been clues to that throughout my life. When I was a kid my mom used to wake me by saying (and sadly I’m not kidding here), ‘Time to get up and start your happy day!’ I…HATED that. When I got older I learned to actually wake myself up about a half hour before I needed to begin getting ready – this is what I call my ‘coming to’ period, and as many of you may have read here in the past, this includes Red Bull. Anyway, it got me thinking – what’s up with morning sex? Who likes that? I mean, every guy I’ve ever dated has, but WHY? Sure on a lazy weekend it’s fine, but during the week? When you have to get up and go to work after (and you could have been sleeping instead)? How does a guy NOT get kicked for trying that?

-I was going down to the train yesterday after work, and this woman cut me off. Wait, that’s not entirely true – it was her ass that cut me off. And I have to say that for once, I didn’t even mind. Why, you ask (after all I’m a massive bitch who lives for hating people who do shit like this)? Well let me tell you dear readers – it was because this woman was attached to the biggest ass I have ever seen in my life. I mean, it was HUGE. I honestly have never seen anything like it. Sure I’ve seen big asses before, and it’s not like this was a small woman to begin with, but this ass…I have no words. It was so blatantly out of proportion with the rest of her body that I was mesmerized. I’m not kidding, I think her ass weighed almost as much as my entire body. And it TOTALLY made my day to see it.

-Yeah, so it’s been a little while now since I’ve…um…BEEN with a guy (if you know what I’m saying – and you’d be a moron not to). And I have to say…nevermind. It’s the first few months that are the hardest, right?

-I don’t want to talk about the A-Rod thing just yet (many of you know about my love/hate relationship with him anyway) – frankly, I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about this.

-Barry Bonds…hee, hee. (Sorry, I just don’t like that guy.)

-A guy sitting next to me on the train a couple of days ago tried to start up a conversation with me. I did not let him. He was very cute, well dressed, etc. But he was SITTING next to me. There were women in that train car standing, and he was sitting. Call me old-fashioned, but I would never even consider dating a man like that. Let me explain – I was raised by a gentleman. My father would never sit while a lady was standing – I honestly have never seen my father sit down at a bar. He stands when my mother, sister, or I leave a table. He holds doors for us. And he raised my brother to be the same way. And you know what? It’s nice. Now that doesn’t mean that he thinks women are weak, inferior creatures (he raised me didn’t he?). No, it just means that he’s polite. A gentleman. And I like that. I want that in a man for myself. Which pisses me off because there don’t seem to be any more men like that out there. If I could give every new man I meet the Subway Test before ever agreeing to date them, I would. Unfortunately I can’t.

Men today suck.

-I’m getting a massage after work today – I can’t fucking wait.

Happy weekend everybody!

I Had A Weekend…Yup. I Did.

Sorry it’s been a little while guys – my new job requires me to spend A LOT of time in meetings. A lot. Of time.

Anyway, I’m traveling for business tomorrow and Wednesday (I’ll try to check in here if I can), but in the meantime I wanted to give you a very quick update on things:

-Went to a Single’s Party on Friday night – met no one interesting. Started to drink.

-Met up with Christine after the single’s party and went to a bar we both love (GREAT martinis) to celebrate her b-day. Continued drinking.

-Sat next to a guy at the bar while we waited for a table…proceeded to flirt. Let him buy me more drinks. Started to get into him, then…

-Our table was ready. Since it was Christine’s night (her b-day after all), AND I had blown her off earlier to go to that Single’s Party (I didn’t invite her – yes, I’m a bad friend), I felt obligated to leave the cutie at the bar and go actually hang out with my friend.

-Drank some more.

-Ate cheese fries – who actually eats those?! I mean, besides me and Christine when we’re both smashed.

-Drank some more.

-Had a moment where I actually stopped (in my whirling, fuzzy haze) and thought ‘Oh shit. I’m REALLY fucked up.’

-Looked at Christine and said, ‘I need to go outside and get some air. Here’s my credit card – you don’t pay for ANYTHING tonight!’ (Note: A HUGE clue that I was FUCKING DEMOLISHED at that point – I handed my credit card over to my unemployed friend and told her to use it.)

-Walked outside and literally just stood in the rain (note: REALLY good for my hair and makeup) trying to sober up a little bit. Was considering how badly I needed to throw up when Hottie from the Bar wandered outside to find me.

-Woke up the next morning in my apartment, feeling like I was going to die. I was alone. (It’s always a bad thing when you need to call the person you were out with the night before to ask how you got home.)

-Turns out Christine paid the bill (with my credit card), came outside to find me, realized I was ‘chatting up Hottie Bar Guy – looking surprisingly sober,’ and so went back inside to watch…whatever football game was on in the bar.

-A little while later I reappeared with Hottie Bar Guy, seemingly to watch the game, and I very discreetly (I’m sure) leaned in and whispered something along the lines of ‘you need to get me out of here before I embarrass myself’ to Christine. She got me out of there.

-Apparently I did get Hottie Bar Guy’s number (I can’t find it), his name (I can’t remember it), and my credit card (THAT I found) before leaving. All things considered, one out of three (especially that one out of three) ain’t bad, so I’m pretty psyched.

-Saturday consisted of me praying to die (hangover from hell) and sleeping. Sunday I cleaned my apartment. Hmmm, it was a boring weekend actually. What about you guys – do anything interesting?

-On a side note – Christine is a freak of nature. She drinks just like I do, gets drunk just like I do, and yet NEVER throws up and never gets a hangover. Have you people ever heard of this phenomenon before? What the fuck – if this isn’t a prime example of life not being fair, I don’t know what is.

To Bang or Not to Bang

Yeah, that’s just about the stupidest title I’ve come up with so far, but fuck it – I’m not creative enough to come up with anything better. So there.

OK, and now…onto the haircutting story that I keep promising you:

Let me just say right off the bat that I’m very protective of my hair. I think this stems from several things. First and foremost, I think a lot of the blame has to go to my mother and the unfortunate boy’s haircut she had me sport until I was old enough to object…

(Note: By her third kid my mom was over the whole ‘ooh, let’s dress him/her up and show him/her off to EVERYONE’ stage. This utter disregard for the prettification (shut up, I can make up a word) of her daughter, combined with a full-time job, led my mother to take some shortcuts with me. Nothing major mind you – I was given love and taught values – but as my mother likes to put it, she learned ‘not to sweat the small stuff’ by the time I came along. And apparently the small stuff included hairstyling. Anyway, quick overview: My mother gave me the same haircut as my brother until the day I (very loudly) stopped her. If I remember correctly this happened sometime around the 2nd grade. The reason I finally put my foot down was simple – I was pissed about recently being mistaken for a boy (shut up – it was an honest mistake considering I had no breasts then). Either way it was psychologically scarring, and to this day I don’t think I’m over it. But I digress.)

The other reason I’m so protective of my hair can also be blamed on a family member (I bet that’s true with a lot of us and our neuroses) – my dear older sister. Yes, she had her part in turning me into the nutjob you all know and love today. I learned many lessons from her (as we often do from our siblings). The lesson I learned from the story I’m about to tell was a simple one though: Never, EVER let your sister cut your hair after she’s been drinking. Seems pretty obvious now, but at the time…

Let me set the stage for you guys: Redhead – awkward 6th grader with SUPER DUPER bangs. Redhead’s sister – new college freshman who was probably psyched to finally be away from her annoying little sister. The place – parent’s weekend at the University of ________.

YES, you read that right – I had bangs (and we’re not talking the cute, side-swept bangs that some girls have today). Stop laughing.

Grrr…alright, let me explain the logic behind this hideous hairstyle quickly. Ummm, okay, so none of you know me (thank goodness). That means that none of you know what I look like (thank goodness again – yay anonymity!). Well, I guess what most people would say about me is I’m not average looking; I don’t look like the girl next door. I’m…I have a very distinctive look – I’m tall (and have been all my life), I have long red hair, and I have a particularly angular face. Now today that angular face works for me in a positive way, ie. great bone structure with especially nice cheekbones (if I do say so myself). But when I was 11 years old – this face did not work for me. In fact, it made me downright uncomfortable. I was a preteen with an adult’s face. And in a world where cute little things ruled, I was…not. I HATED it.

So, I tried to cover up that face (hence, the awful bangs), slouch away the awkward height, and generally just not stand out in any way. ALL I wanted at that point in my life was to go unnoticed.

Which of course explains the bangs, and brings us (finally) to the story of my sister, parent’s weekend, one too many beers I (stupidly) didn’t notice sis consuming, and a pair of scissors.

Now, before leaving for college my sister was my designated bang-cutter (God knows I didn’t trust my mother to do the honors). And after leaving for college – well, I guess you could say I didn’t replace her. In other words, I went cold turkey. And let me just tell you, I had the shaggy hair to prove it.

So suffice it to say, by the time parent’s weekend at my sis’s school came around, I was horribly in need of a trim. In fact, when we arrived in [city’s name], I was so desperate for a cut that I started badgering my sister almost immediately after saying hello.

Not surprisingly I was made to wait until after my parents took my sis (and 15 of her closest friends) out to dinner. Fine. I was patient. (Shut up.)

Yeah, so we went to dinner, everyone had a good time (in spite of me), and eventually I found myself back in my sister’s dorm room.

Now, um…I’ll be the first to admit that I may have been annoying her at this point. I had basically mentioned my hair and how it needed a trim…hmmm…every 5 minutes or so for about 4 hours. Yeah.

Anyway there we were, hanging out after dinner, and I guess I begged her for assistance one time too many. And with my parents (conveniently) out of the room, and my sister (uninhibited as she was after a few drinks) losing patience, I…certainly got my haircut.

One moment my sister was talking to a friend and ignoring me, and the next moment she was grabbing scissors off her dresser and coming towards me. And then…she cut my bangs. Yup, they were cut. Yessiree they were.

Note: I knew right away I was in trouble when I realized how drastically her cutting style had changed. In the past she had gone slowly, trimming a little bit at a time and doing everything in sections. This time she simply grabbed ALL of my bangs together, placed the scissors above where her fist held everything, and cut. Pretty high up. Like, a half an inch away from my scalp high up.

Wow, it’s still painful to talk about.

So okay, it didn’t look good. Or another way of saying it is it looked bad. Hideously bad. Ego crushingly bad. But…whatever. Bygones.

Long story short, my sister felt awful the next day, I looked like a spaz for months afterwards, I got over the self-consciousness I felt about my face, and I decided that I didn’t want or need bangs ever again.

And I haven’t had bangs since.

The end.

I Have No Excuse

Yeah, I keep meaning to write that post about my bad haircut (note: How the hell did THAT win the vote? I had to stop myself from writing about the time I lost my virginity – the Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon option – by systematically reminding myself that it wouldn’t be very sporting to ignore my readers’ wants and needs), but…

Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah – the fact that I’m too lazy to write the post I promised you. So…yeah…let’s just go with my comments on random pop culture stuff today:

-Katie Holmes might be pregnant again – to this I say: Who gives a fuck? Her husband is an asshole and she seems to have no personality. In fact, it seems like the only thing that makes these people even remotely interesting is that they have a lot of money and look good; hell, if people like that fascinated me I’d start going to places like Butter every weekend and at least get to see them all firsthand. Instead I choose to hang out at my corner pub and try not to become a complete and total douchebag.

-Britney Spears is a flaming fucking idiot. To call her a freak would be an insult to freaks everywhere. That is all.

-Ice-T’s wife - holy…shit!

-Look, you never know what’s going on in another person’s life, so oftentimes it’s hard to pass judgment (or so I’ve been told – I’ve never had much of a problem with it). But having said all that – Andy Reid’s fucked up as a father and needs to leave his job so he can take care of his family. I’m sorry, I’m not saying I’m blaming him entirely for his kids being fuckups (I don’t think), but let’s be serious here – something’s epically wrong in the Reid household, and at least some doubt has to be cast on the parents. Put in the simplest terms imaginable: Whatever Reid and his wife have been doing in the past hasn’t been working, so…try something else dipshits!

Note: If you’ve allowed your house to deteriorate to such an extent that a judge characterizes it as a “drug emporium,” it may be time to keep a better eye on things – because that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

-I worship Russell Crowe and will go see any movie he’s in – the fact that his latest, American Gangster, also stars Denzel Washington, is just icing on the cake. So guess what I’m doing this weekend?

And finally, a random observation – I decided to mix things up a bit this morning at Starbucks and ordered a Skim Mocha; it’s a totally girly drink and I felt like a asshole for ordering it (I’m a black coffee drinker normally), but…it was so yummy. Two very enthusiastic thumbs up.

Have a great weekend everybody. Haircut story on Monday, I promise!

This Licks

Are you kidding me? So there I was, working on a post where I told all of you the story of how I lost my virginity, and then I got tagged!

What?

Yeah, that’s what I wondered too, UNTIL I wandered over to Bella’s blog (she’s the tagger – I’m the taggee) and read the rules. So here we go (for those uncool cats who aren’t in the know – much like I wasn’t – here’s the premise):

The rules of the game:

A) Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog. (Redhead note: Done and done.)

B) Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself. (Redhead note: Isn’t that what I do every day around here?)

C) Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs. (Redhead note: Ah shit – everyone I know that reads and comments on this blog is already getting tagged. What is this, a race?)

D) Let each person know that they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. (Redhead note: MORE work for me to do – this bites the big one.)

So here goes, 7 things…

1) I have written a romance novel in my lifetime. Yes, you read that correctly – I wrote one.

2) I have had a one-night stand before. In other words, I slept with a guy whose very existence I had been unaware of just 24 hours before bedding him. And after the night was over I never saw him again (although weirdly – doesn’t he know the rules? – he did call me). No, I’m not proud of any of this, it was clearly not my finest moment, BUT I don’t regret it. (Still, I would like to point out that this was a one-time thing – I’m not normally that easy.)

3) Ever since my nephews were born my biological clock has been ticking. SHUT UP – I don’t want to talk about it.

4) Discounting family, I’ve never been in love.

5) Dates (the fruit not the kind that show up on a calendar) make me sick. Literally.

6) I was so shy while growing up that I couldn’t even call and order a pizza until I was a senior in high school – something about not wanting to talk to someone I didn’t know on the phone. Yes, I realize how fucked up that is. And yes, it is amazing how much I’ve changed since then.

7) I hate thong underwear. I know pantylines are passé, I know thongs are sexy, and I know everyone else wears them, but I HATE them. They’re uncomfortable and the idea of them creeps me out. So there. (Um…having said that – I do own a few pairs and have been known to wear them when necessary. The lesson here: My righteous indignation only goes so far.)

And now for my tagging – sorry guys: mcbias (that hiatus is going to have to wait buddy), jack, danny, dotm, rs27, harry, and kat.

Let’s Talk Random...Again

-I MAY have inadvertently flirted with a guy from work on Friday night. You see, I went out for drinks with a few people from the office after work on Friday (before running home to change for my Halloween party), and… I don’t know – I found myself walking to the subway with this guy from the office. And he was cute, I’d had a couple of cocktails, and I was in a generally good mood (thanks to the fact that I’d lived through my first week). So I was chatty. And MAYBE a little touchy-feely. I don’t know. Anyway long story short, he was practically stalking me in the office today. Shit.

-So it turns out that my assistant had quit (note: BEFORE I ever started work) because she got into a fight with my boss (it’s amazing the things that come out after a few drinks). My thoughts on the whole thing: I don’t really care. I mean, I care that I now have to spend time interviewing someone new during my first few weeks on the job, but I don’t care that my boss inspired someone to quit. Why? Well, because I got the story out of the girl (my ex-assistant), and it really didn’t sound like that big of a deal – sounded to me like the assistant overreacted actually. After all, who doesn’t get into it every once in a while at the office with someone? And how sensitive do you have to be to quit over one fight? I’d understand it if it was a regular occurrence, but what the fuck? ONE fight? Isn’t that par for the course? I don’t know, you guys tell me – am I looking at this the wrong way? Was the last place I worked such a war zone that nothing shocks me anymore? Is one fight with the boss really that big of a deal?

-It’s fucking cold in New York City today. I love it.

-I don’t want to talk about the Red Sox, I don’t want to talk about A-Rod (what a douche – could his timing have been more inappropriate?), and I don’t want to talk about the Halloween party (let’s just say I attended with Christine – yeah, exactly).

-My sister got back together with her asshole ex-boyfriend and has told everyone except me – according to my mother she’s afraid of what I’ll say. Am I scary? Wait, don’t answer that. My game plan right now is to badmouth him every chance I get until she either a) breaks down and tells me or b) breaks up with him (out of shame). Good plan?

-Simon and Garfunkel Live in Central Park – this is my new iPod addition. It’s good shit.

-Someone mentioned one of my ex-boyfriends over the weekend and it got me thinking about him. My top five thoughts concerning him were: 1) He introduced me to Sublime, so that’s good. 2) He was always late and to this day I will dump a guy if he makes me wait for him – that’s both good and bad. 3) He flew halfway across the country to see me when I told him during a phone conversation that I never wanted to speak to him again, and when he got here I refused to see him – that was funny. 4) His mother kept in touch with me for a year after we broke up – that means I’m lovable. 5) He is now married to a stripper and is living in some bumblefuck town in Georgia – that shows I have TERRIBLE taste in men.

-So I’ve decided to go back to my non-dating stance from before I was fired. As it turns out I don’t need a sugar daddy – I have a ton of severance left over and my new job is paying me WAY more than my old job. This means I now have the freedom to take a step back and actually try to figure out what I want from the men in my life. So far I don’t have much – any thoughts out there?

-Hey, you guys never told me how you felt about Redhead’s Book Club (besides McBias – yes, I know you didn’t like it McB). What was the final call on that? Because I’ve got another whopper.

Speaking of which, I’m giving you guys control over my next post; do you want a) a book club entry, b) the story of the time I let my sister cut my hair, or c) the story of how the song Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon mirrored my life (yes, the story is about what you might think it is). You guys vote and get back to me.

Ewwww

A quick story:

So I walked into my apartment last night after another long day at work – iPod headphones on, music blasting (couldn’t hear a thing) – completely oblivious to the world. I unlocked the door, walked into my apartment, turned the lights on, and spotted my cat lying in the middle of the kitchen.

“Hey babe,” I said (out loud – shut up, don’t judge me).

“How was your day?” (Also out loud.)

“Mine was neverending. Mommy’s tired!” (I said SHUT UP.)

So, there I was talking to my cat (a not unusual occurrence), while I went about my ‘just got home’ routine. This included: Dropping my purse on the kitchen table, bending over and scratching my kitty’s tummy, opening my refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water, and beginning to undress to change into something more comfortable.

Keep in mind my headphones were still on up until I pulled my sweater over my head (which was the first piece of clothing that I removed). Are you with me so far? Okay.

Anyway, there I was walking through my kitchen – headphones dangling to the floor since my iPod was still in my pocket, pants and shoes still on, sweater balled up in my hand, and a bra serving as my only covering from the hips on up.

That is how I walked into my bedroom.

And THAT is how I looked when I came face to face with my super.

How would I describe both of our faces? Deer caught in headlights seems like an accurate description. It was…awkward (to say the least).

Long story short – I quickly covered myself (as best I could) with my balled up sweater and learned that the apartment above mine had a pipe burst in the bathroom. My super came by to see if any water had leaked down into my bathroom. And he had been inspecting said bathroom when I came home from work (oblivious to the world). Needless to say, I surprised him (and myself). Thanks to a) my headphones, and b) my general cluelessness, I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone until it was too late.

The end.

P.S. It’s a good thing I was wearing a normal bra and not one of my lacy, see-through numbers.

P.P.S. Looks like things are going to be a little awkward between me and the super for a while.

P.P.P.S. I’m a freaking idiot.

Why Do We Work Again?

So…tired. First day back at work went on forever. Can’t function. Have a meeting tomorrow that is scheduled to go from 11 to 5. Yes, you read that right – a six hour meeting. Fuck, this working thing is for the birds.

Some other thoughts from my first day back in the land of the employed – I haven’t checked to see if I can blog at work but will let you know if I get fired for trying; they got me flowers for my first day – I rock; they took me out for lunch at a restaurant I’ve always wanted to go to – I still rock; my assistant apparently gave her notice last week – that sucks and is going to make my life more difficult; the ladies room near my office has baskets full of feminine products, lotions, and towels – that was actually a nice surprise; and my cat puked on my favorite chair while I was at work today – yup, I’d say she’s pretty pissed.

Apparently I get life insurance with my new job – I’m not sure why, but for some reason the thought that my family will get something if I die made me feel like I’d accomplished something with my life. Is that weird?

Christine texted me 5 times today while I was at work. I texted her back once. When I got home.

My assistant – you know, the one who’s leaving at the end of the week and is already giving me a headache – is a Red Sox fan. Enough said.

I have a nice table in the corner of my office for meeting with people. The problem: There are no chairs at the table. The suggestion that was given to me today: Go to someone else’s office when they’re not there and steal their chairs. How popular do you think that would make me? Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I’m pretty sure if I send one email to Facilities every day for the next six months, I will eventually get my own furniture in a more legal way. Or not.

I didn’t see any super cute guys today. That’s probably a good thing. The last thing I need is the complication of wanting a man that I work with. Still…a little eye candy would have been nice.

Ugh. Sorry guys, I don’t have the energy to write more now. I’ll try to throw something else up tomorrow. In the meantime…I don’t know: Something profound, blah, blah, blah.

Um…So I Should Write Something

I’m sitting here, contemplating showering and getting dressed while watching The Princess Bride (GREAT movie), and it’s occurred to me that I should throw up a post for you guys. Sooo…yeah. What to write about?

-My cat’s going to be PISSED when I leave for work next week. I’m expecting mass destruction in the Apartment de la Redhead come Monday.

-My older nephew has recently found that my younger nephew annoys him. He has dealt with this realization by hitting and kicking his 8 month old brother as a way of ‘expressing’ himself. Naturally, his father – my brother – is horrified by this. He is concerned that his son may not be as perfect as we had all assumed. My take on it – welcome to having a sibling. Hey bro, remember that time you grabbed me by the ankles and proceeded to walk up the stairs, banging me head on each step along the way? Exactly – calm down, siblings fight. Now having said that…um, try not to leave the two of them alone together for the next couple of years. Just in case.

-Christine’s out! She moved into her new place yesterday, and let me tell you it’s a good thing she did. As my mother said when I called her ranting a couple of days ago, it seems I’ve reached my limit. We were about 2 days away from a possible friendship ending fight. So cool – now I just have to avoid her for the next month (I need some serious time off to decompress).

-What do I want to be for Halloween? I have a big party that I’m going to, and I can’t figure out what to dress up as. I’m normally a half-assed costume wearer, ie. I throw on jeans and a top, then place some cat ears on my head to appease everyone. BUT, since this party is costume mandatory and I’m in need of a new boy, I feel like I have to put forth some effort this year. The problem is, most women’s costumes are, well…slutty. And I’m not into the whole obvious desperation/trying too hard thing. At the same time, I want to look attractive. End result: I have NO ideas. Help me?

-Hold on – I have to run out and get a Red Bull and a coffee. Be right back.

Ahhhh, so much better. Where was I?

-So I made an appointment at my salon for tomorrow – I’m getting highlights! That’s right, I have all this money leftover from my severance, and I’ve decided to use just a little bit of it to pamper myself. And that means Redhead’s red head is getting a bit lighter. I’m very excited.

-Does Starbucks have to put so much ice in their iced drinks? Jesus, I just spent $4 on a cup of ice and a splash of coffee. The worse part is I’ll do the same thing tomorrow.

-How ‘bout them Rockies? Damn, I’m actually getting into the postseason without the Yankees being there (a miracle).

-Did you guys read that Post piece about Jeter? I laughed my ass off at that one.

Alright, I need to go shopping guys – which means I need to cleanse. Talk to you later.

Time to Celebrate

Let’s pop the champagne boys and girls, Redhead is employed again! Yes, I got the call on Friday – the job I was waiting to hear back from, the one I really wanted, the one which guarantees international travel for a company I’ve heard nothing but good things about – called me on Friday to make an offer. The money is great (significantly higher than my last job), the office is in a beautiful area of the city, and I am THRILLED! So…yeah. I’m giving them a call back in a little bit to finalize the details, but I thought I’d share.

Some other good news – Christine found an apartment. Well, she found a room. In Harlem. I may never go visit her in her new digs, but it’s still exceptional news, so yay. (I haven’t told her about my job yet – I figured I’d make the weekend her celebration and break my news this week. Good plan?)

Anyway, I thought I’d come back later with a story or two, but for now I wanted to share. Yes, I’m like a hyper child right now; feel free to mock and torture me today, I won’t care! Hope everyone else’s weekend was awesome! Have any good stories?

I Totally Suck

I know, I know, I know – I suck. I haven’t posted in…I don’t know, a while, and I haven’t even been going online and commenting on other blogs. Long story short, life came up; for everyone who sent me emails telling me to get off my lazy ass and post – fuck you, and for all of those people who expressed real concern that I was dead or something – you’re all awesome, and I wish my excuses were that good. So…where to begin…

-The Yankees lost, they broke my heart, and I will say right now that I have NO sense of humor about it (I was at the game on Monday). So if you want to give me a hard time, do so at your own peril. I will not think it’s cute that you’re ripping on my team no matter how cleverly you’re doing it; I actually dumped a guy not two days ago for doing that exact thing, and I haven’t had a moments regret over it.

-Finally broke things off with the Irish Bartender and promptly started dating a lawyer who seemed great – ie. all the expected attributes: cute, tall, intelligent, blah, blah, blah. Then he gave me the twin punch of making fun of my college football team (fucking Badgers) and my baseball team (fucking Yankees) in one conversation. I ended things right there. Yes, I’m that big a bitch.

-I now have no doubt that Con Edison is fucking with me – Christine actually asked me yesterday if I’d ever dated and dumped someone who worked there, because that was the only reason for the last year of my life. Let me explain:

Around January last year I got a HUGE bill from Con Ed – we’re talking $800 here. Now, I live in a little apartment in NYC, my heat is paid for by my building, I pay my bills on time every month, and I don’t have jack shit in my apartment that would even come close to using large amounts of energy.

Important note: For all of you unsuspecting souls out there, a bit of advice – you should check the bottom of your bills to see if there is a teeny, tiny EST note. That’s all is says, EST; there is no further explanation. What that means is that your bill is an estimate, it is NOT a real number from a real reading. What your gas and electric company is trying to tell you (as inconspicuously as possible) is that they found something while doing your reading that didn’t make any sense. So they are simply billing you a normal amount for the month while keeping an eye on things. (Another note: They are not trying to figure out what has gone wrong, they are simply watching. Closely. While fucking you over.) If this “weird” pattern of, say, high power usage continues, they will then simply charge you the difference for the past however many months that you have been paying an estimate; they will do this all at once. Now keep in mind, if you by chance didn’t notice the EST sign, no one at your gas and electric company has made you aware of it or contacted you in any way to help you try to fix it. They have simply kept an eye on things and then sprung the whole shitstorm on you after, oh I don’t know, four months has gone by. And trust me, when you do get that aforementioned huge bill, you are going to feel fucked over. You are going to rant and rage that no one made you aware of the problem sooner so you could, I don’t know, SAVE YOURSELF SOME MONEY. And you are going to find yourself even more pissed off when you learn that no one you speak to at the company cares that you’re upset, since technically they were under no legal obligation to do anything beyond put that little EST note at the bottom of your bill – which they did. But I digress…

So, after many conversations with and visits from Con Ed (which lasted a couple more months while my bill continued to rise), it was determined that I didn’t have a massive energy sucking THING in my apartment, per se. In fact they couldn’t figure out what the problem was (there was no evidence of anyone stealing energy or anything like that). Finally in a last ditch effort, Con Ed suggested that maybe I should have my super replace my refrigerator “just in case.” We did, the bills went down again, and I ended up just paying the (at that point) over $1000 that I owed Con Ed (even though I rent my apartment and my rental company should have covered it since it was their refrigerator – something about them not actually finding anything “wrong” with the old one, me not wanting to start a huge fight, them giving me a good deal on this year’s rent, etc. etc.).

Anyway, so I was at home yesterday, minding my own business, when the apartment goes dark. TV goes off, lights go out, refrigerator turns off, etc. So I call Con Ed – was it a power outage I ask? No, they answer, but let them check…oh. Oops. It seems that someone else in my apartment building hadn’t paid their bill, and Con Ed came to shut off their power yesterday, only – wait for it – they fucked up and shut off the power in my apartment instead. They apologize, they’ll reimburse me for the day (yay $6, I’m going to party!), and they’ll send someone back out before 8pm (it’s 10am at the time of the call) to turn me back on.

It was a looonnnggg fucking day, let me tell you. I got my power back (finally!) at 5pm – I’d lost my laptop and phone to dead batteries hours before then – and my delight lasted for all of two minutes before I found that (drumroll please) when they cut the power, they completely blew out my cable box. I’m going to get a new one today. So…yeah – Con Ed hates me. I hate them. They have all the power (literally), and I will continue to let them kick my ass because I have no choice in the matter. The end.

-Have some things going on when it comes to jobs – will let you know more later. I will say that I had a 3 hour interview last week, and doing that to ANYONE is just cruel.

-How I’m going to live without my afternoon naps and Bob Ross’ The Joy of Painting once I go back to work is beyond me. Christine said it best two days ago: Redhead, just face it – you’ve become a cat.

-And now for the main reason I haven’t posted: Christine. Let me say before I begin that Christine is one of my best friends in the world, so keep the comments on her nice. Good, now that that’s out of the way, where to begin? Well, as many of you know she was fired right after I was laid off. Keep in mind, this was the second time this year she was fired, and neither time was it as nicely done as it was when I was let go. She then promptly got her purse stolen (which made going out difficult since she didn’t have a license or passport to prove her age), and the guy she had been seeing bailed on her. This all made her…fragile. My normally very stoic and not at all needy friend became needy. And emotional – all things that freak me out.

Then last week the shit hit the fan. As some of you may remember, Christine was in the process of moving a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, the places she wanted to move to weren’t going to be available for a couple of months – but that wasn’t a huge problem, right? Wrong. You see, in the meantime Christine got fired, and when the time came for her to move, the building she was moving into finally got around to calling her company to verify her employment. Yeah, you get where this is going – needless to say, they backed out. Then her psycho fundamentalist roommate started eviction proceedings on her. Then she found a place that said they would help her out – which was great until about 2 weeks ago when the landlord tried to behave…inappropriately toward her. When she didn’t respond in kind, he took the apartment back. The week before she was going to move in.

And that’s when Christine lost it. She completely lost it. Like I was worried about her mental well-being lost it. And for some reason, I was the only person she felt she could turn to. She completely cut off all communication with everyone except me, she essentially moved into my apartment (I don’t live with anyone for a reason), she cried nonstop, and she looked to me to, and I quote “run her life.”

I was suddenly expected to do everything for her. When she got an email that she had to respond to, I was to write out the response (she didn’t trust herself to communicate with others). When her friends and family started to panic when she wasn't responding to calls and emails, she simply texted them my phone number and asked me to tell them what was going on when they called. She couldn’t stand looking at apartment listings, so that fell to me as well. (Mind you, I’m trying to FIND A JOB right now – every time I go on an interview I have to sit through an hour of ‘why is no one calling me for interviews?’.)

This has been…

I don’t know guys. I know I joke around a lot here, but I honestly haven’t had it in me these past two weeks. I’m stressed out, and it’s not my life that’s making me feel this way. I’ve actually been escaping to my parents’ house in Jersey for overnighters just so I can get away from one of my best friends. That’s not normal.

Yes, I know that she’s being especially needy, and that everyone is allowed to fall apart once in a while. And I know that it’s how you respond during the tough times that prove one’s friendship. But…I just don’t know how much longer I can take this. I’ve always been a really solitary person. I seek out friends who give me space. And maybe…I don’t know, maybe I’m just not built for this. Maybe I’m just not cut out for really close friendships and the expectations that come with them. And the thought that any of what I just said may be true terrifies me. I feel like an awful person.

So there it is, the depressing truth – I’m a shit. I’ve been playing caretaker to a grown woman for almost two weeks now, and it seems like that’s my limit. For a family member I could see myself doing this for as long as it took, but for anyone else…You know what, I’m going to stop talking now. If this topic is bumming you out half as much as it’s bumming me out, I’m really, really sorry.

OK, shrug and deep cleansing breathes. What’s going on with you guys? Miss me?

Men, Women, Whatnot

I went to check my Yahoo! email account last night, and somehow I got waylaid by the main page article – the title of which I now can’t remember. Huh… Oh well, anyway so I clicked on the article, and at some point while I was reading it I got bored and clicked on another link that had something to do with…something. (Note: Yes, this introduction is vague – shut up, I’m sleepy.) And that’s when/how I ended up at this article – 50 Things Men Wish You Knew. It was mildly interesting, and there were even a few things (12 to be specific) that I wanted to comment/ask questions about. Everything else was either obvious (yes, men like to drive – we get it), or had been covered by me in the past (are there women out there REALLY asking their boyfriends for fashion advice?). So yeah, what you’ll find below are the points that I wanted to talk about. For those of you who might be confused about the format of the post, a) get help, you’re stupid, and b) here are the instructions: First I listed a point from the article, then I commented on it. The end.

God, I need to go back to bed. Enjoy:

-Never say, “I know you better than you know yourself.” Nobody does.
Redhead: Yeah, I’ve actually had people say that to me too, and it really does piss me off. Shut the fuck up people – I’m complicated! I’m also constantly surprising myself with the things I think and say, so how someone else could possibly have seen it coming when I didn't is a mystery; oh, and it's bullshit. Fuckers.

-Do not expect to have a conversation via text message unless you use the words “naked” and “waiting.”
Redhead: I HATE text messaging – I’ve actually started boycotting it. I don’t respond to my friends’ texts anymore, and I’ve taken to actively mocking them if and when they try to text other people when out with me. The chances that I’ll have no friends left in a few more months are pretty good, but the chances that I’ll be 80% less annoyed at that point are even better – so I’m psyched.

-You can pick the movie, but have a reason.
Redhead: Is ‘because I want to see it’ a good reason?

-A random unexpected grope is always welcome, even in public. Especially in public.
Redhead: What kind of grope are we talking here? An ass grope or can I get away with a full-on crotch grab?

-Being good in bed means a) enthusiasm; b) a sense of humor; and sometimes c) patience.
Redhead: Wait, I have to be patient or the guy has to be patient? This isn’t clear!

-We love ponytails.
Redhead: Huh? But…why?

-Don’t be afraid to ditch the makeup. Natural is sexier.
Redhead: No, natural makeup is sexier. No makeup only looks good on someone if you already like them a lot/care about them. On a complete stranger – trust me, makeup is better. Just trust me on this one.

-Leave the eyebrows alone. Plucked ain’t pretty.
Redhead: Once again I’m going to have to disagree. I mean sure, I think everyone can agree that the creepy skinny drawn-on eyebrow look is…well, creepy. But have you ever seen a woman who has done NOTHING with her eyebrows? Yeah, pair that with no makeup and then see how often the woman gets hit on. Men have no idea what kind of upkeep an attractive woman actually requires.

-You can have sex with us any time you want. Seriously.
Redhead: Hee hee, this is my favorite fact about men. Damn they’re easy.

-You’re really bad at faking it.
Redhead: Yeah, I don’t think that’s true. I mean I’ve never been called on it before, and that really seems like the sort of thing that a guy (at least the type who would realize when he’s being had) would bring up afterwards. If nothing else he would do this to prove he’s not completely clueless in bed. Am I wrong here?

-Bare, tan shoulders are underrated.
Redhead: Huh…okay. Good to know.

-If you’re truly interested in us, don’t play hard to get.
Redhead: Yeah, instead play no games, call the guy back immediately after he calls, never say no when he suggests going out (even when he calls an hour before he wants to do something – oh, and he hasn’t called in days), and always tell him exactly what you’re thinking, no matter how much he may not want to hear it. Outstanding advice – why don’t you try that and then give me a call to tell me how it works out. Mmmkay?

I’m Tired and Sick

Yeah, so the title of this one sort of says it all – I’m tired and sickly today, so we’re keeping this one relatively short and unoriginal. Starting…now:

-Wait, does this make me more or less shallow?: So I’ve decided that I just can’t date the guy that my friend set me up with. Yes, he’s cute. Yes, he’s rich. Yes, he’s nice. In those ways, he’s the perfect sugar daddy for me. But he’s also a tool – I’ve decided that I just can’t overlook that. I mean, he actually belongs to one of those groups that gets together to play role-playing games. This is NOT someone that I could ever allow to bring me to orgasm. It’s a shame really – what a waste.

-And the hits just keep on coming: Christine was on her way to the airport on Saturday to go visit her parents (so they could actually see her and determine if she was okay after The Firing), and her purse was stolen on the train! She lost: All her credit cards, a good amount of cash, her license, her passport, and all the assorted goodies that she carries around with her. Since I was out of town for another Jewish holiday, and she couldn’t reach anyone else on the phone, she was literally stuck out by the airport for hours until she could get in touch with someone who would come get her (since they wouldn’t let her on the plane without ID) – she didn’t even have 2 bucks to take the train back to her apartment. I have now decided that she’s a walking disaster area and am keeping my distance until strike 3 hits (am I a good friend or what?).

-Look Ma, it’s a cake baby!: I literally ate so much food while at my parents house over the weekend (like we’re talking my body weight in food – it was an impressive show I put on), that I was sporting this bump that looked like the beginnings of a pregnant belly by the time dessert was over on Saturday night. I nicknamed it my cake baby, since it was primarily thanks to all the baked goods I’d inhaled. Just thought I’d share.

-Careful – Contagious: Despite knowing that both my nephews had colds, I still smothered them with hugs and kisses when I saw them on Saturday. I am now about 90% mucus. But you know what? I’d do it all again EXACTLY the same way – I have the cutest nephews.

-I am such a girl: So I watched the first episode of that new show Gossip Girl on Sunday. I don’t know what it is about me, but I love those soap opera-y shows that take place in high school; I’m actually more than a little worried that I’m now going to be a regular viewer. But shhh, don’t tell anyone.

-Whoopsie: So I’m having a conversation with this friend of a friend who (very nicely) offered to forward my resume along to a few people, and SOMEHOW we get on the topic of older men dating younger women. Anyway long story short, I said something along the lines of, “I don’t know why a 25 year old woman would date a 45 year old man.” “What about why he would date her?” he replied. “Well that’s pretty obvious,” I answered. “It’s because he can…and obviously because he’s insecure.” Cue awkward silence. Turns out this dude is almost 50 (he’s the friend of an older ex-coworker), and he just got out of a relationship with a 23 YEAR OLD. I…don’t think he’s going to continue helping me now. (P.S. Can anyone say ‘midlife crisis’?)

Cool. Talk to ya’ll again in a day or two.

A Funeral, A Wedding, A Rabbi, And A Cat

I got a request on Monday – after I went off on my family’s rabbi – to give the story of my grandmother’s funeral. As I said in the comments section that day, it isn’t exactly a funny story, but if you want it I’ll give it to you. So here goes:

OK, we actually have to go back to my brother’s wedding to lay the groundwork here. You see, my brother – in his infinite wisdom – chose to marry a woman who is strong, intelligent, beautiful, and funny. Oh, and she’s also Irish Catholic. My family, as many of you already know, is Jewish. But since we’re pretty relaxed Jews (and in fact never attend temple – except for my mother and sister on the high holy days), we certainly didn’t care that my brother was marrying outside our faith. (* snicker – no shit *) In fact, organized religion – for most of us, is more of a negative than a positive…but I digress.

Anyway, when my brother and my now sister-in-law chose to get married, they did so with very little interference from anyone else. We were thrilled for them, willing to help in planning the wedding, but unwilling to meddle and put unnecessary expectations on them. If they wanted a big wedding – fine. If they wanted a small wedding – fine. If they wanted to be married by a justice of the peace – fine. If they wanted to be married by a priest – fine. We…didn’t…care. God knows my brother probably didn’t care either.

But my sister-in-law did care. So, she made the (in my opinion incredibly prescient) decision to get married by both a priest and a rabbi. She chose this for several reasons, but I think one of them is that she knew how much it would mean to my grandmother – who was alive then and quite active with our temple. Now my grandmother…she was an exceptional woman. She just...you know what – I’ll get more into her a little later. Let’s just say right now that we were all crazy about her, and since my sister-in-law wanted religion to be a part of the ceremony, she immediately wanted ALL religions to be represented. Cool, right?

Well, with that decision made, my brother and sister-in-law went to speak with our family’s rabbi about taking part in the ceremony. I considered this to be a slam dunk request since my grandmother’s second husband (her first one – my grandfather – died when my mother was young) had been president of our temple, and he had personally handpicked this rabbi just ten years before. He had interviewed the rabbi, had him over for dinner many times throughout the years, and had generally just treated him very kindly. And when my grandmother’s husband died, the rabbi gave a lovely speech at the funeral. My grandmother remained close with him after that.

Anyway long story short, the rabbi said no when asked to marry my brother and sister-in-law. Actually, he said he would marry them, but he would not perform the ceremony with a priest. Essentially, it was either his show or someone else’s. If my brother wanted to marry someone outside our religion, that was fine – but he would only officiate if they were married by just a rabbi. In other words, he revealed himself to be a complete and total dickhead.

My brother and sister-in-law took it in stride, finding another rabbi who would perform the ceremony alongside a priest (and who ended up being great – really funny, and he brought his girlfriend to the reception where he got drunk with my sister-in-law’s family members who’d just flown in from Ireland). Even the rest of my family took it in stride, saying that the rabbi had every right to say no. My grandmother was disappointed but said she understood.

I did not understand. I was (and still am) furious. After all my family had done for that asshole, he said no. In today’s day and age, where religion is getting so fucked up and younger people are becoming less and less religious, he chose to turn his back on a couple that wanted to include it in one of the most important days of their lives. And he didn’t even do it because my brother was marrying someone who wasn’t Jewish – he did it because he didn’t want to share the spotlight! That self-righteous piece of shit.

OK, I’m taking a deep breath and calming down. Now, as many of you know, I tend to not be very forgiving. I also tend to have strong feelings on things. So…yeah, I pretty much lost it over the whole wedding thing, proceeded to mock the rabbi every chance I got, and essentially ended up getting banned (by my mother) from going to temple.

Then my grandmother died.

My grandmother, she was…hell, I loved her (still do) so much. She spoke her mind – which of course I respected. She was loud (even though she was this tiny little thing). She drank martinis with lunch, took up smoking again when she hit 80, saying ‘What do I care now? What’s it going to do – kill me?’ and said outrageous things all the time; I’m talking things that came out of nowhere and made your jaw drop for a few seconds before you pulled yourself together long enough to start laughing uncontrollably. She also told the best stories. And she was fiercely loyal to her family; we knew she loved us and she wouldn’t have it any other way – she wasn’t one to hide her feelings.

As for my grandmother and I…we had a very special relationship. We were always close, but I guess it was when I was in high school that our relationship changed. You see, my parents decided one year to take her with us on vacation. Since my brother and sister couldn’t go, I ended up having to share a room with her. For 2 weeks. In the middle of the ocean (we were on a cruise). Now, (as many of you know) I don’t share space well, and it turns out there’s a limit to how long the whole ‘be nice to your grandmother’ thing can work when you have to share a small space with her. Turns out our limit was about 3 days. After that, the gloves came off. We jumped from grandmother and granddaughter to roommates in no time, and after that my parents just stepped back and watched (probably a bit nervously) while we settled in. And settle in we did, as we bickered AND bonded for 2 weeks.

Honestly, it was the best thing that could have happened. My grandmother became more than just a grandmother on that trip – she became my friend. And when she died…

It hurt. It still hurts.

I held it together (mostly) when she was in the hospital, and when she passed away I kept busy helping to entertain family members and plan the funeral and the shiva – a kind of period of grieving where people come to your house to pay their respects after someone died (there’s lots of food and drinking). Obviously, my mother wanted our rabbi to be there for the funeral – I did not argue this fact as my grandmother would have wanted it too. But my mother was smart enough (and I think sad and therefore crazy enough) to warn the rabbi that I had…a few problems with him. He told her not to worry – that he would be glad to talk to me and discuss my issues with him. My mother was not so far gone at that point as to think that was a good idea (she knows me well), and told him so. She then came home and warned me to be prepared. I sort of listened. Sort of.

Anyway, the day of the funeral finally came, we all gathered at the funeral home before the service, and I…I lost it. I could not stop crying. I wasn’t loud about it, I didn’t want to be a distraction or take away from the meaning of the day (which was rightfully a celebration of life), but the tears flowed for hours. I was, quite simply, devastated. I missed my grandmother already, and I knew – just as I know today – that I was going to miss her forever.

But after the funeral and the burial, we all went back to my parents’ house for shiva. I began to drink, and tell stories about my grandmother, and laugh, and just as I was finally starting to relax, the rabbi approached me (I’d handily avoided him until then). Making an effort to be friendly, he walked up as I talked with someone about the kitten I had just gotten, and jumped in with “Ah, you have a cat. What kind is it?”

Turning and looking at him like he was the village idiot, I flatly replied, “It’s a house cat,” before shaking my head and walking away. One of my best friends witnessed this exchange and scurried after me to whisper, “What was that about? You were so rude!”

“He’s an asshole,” I replied – remember, I don’t forgive or forget – and then dismissed the incident. But that rabbi…he’s a moron. He actually came back for more, saying something along the lines of “If there’s anything you would like to talk to me about, I’m more than willing to listen.”

Again having to break off a good conversation to acknowledge him, I turned and said, quite simply, “No.” Now was it a mature reaction? Not really. But I was understandably upset that day, and I won’t apologize for reacting honestly toward him. I won’t apologize for not pretending to feel something I didn’t.

I didn’t like him, and I didn’t want to talk to him. Easy, clear, and straightforward – pretty much pure, undiluted Redhead. (I will admit that I usually have a bit more tact than that though.)

And that’s it really – the story of the rabbi. Why I hate him, and how – even in times of extreme pain – I will always hate him. Agree or disagree, I don’t care. You don’t fuck with my family, and in my eyes this guy fucked with my family. Period. The end.

Damn I’m coming across as a nice person lately. OK, Monday – something funny.