OK, so I’m feeling a little feisty today. Might have something to do with the really good date I had last night. OR, it might have something to do with Guy #2 (who I haven’t spoken to since fucking St. Patty’s Day – get a clue dude, you’re starting to creep me out) calling me at 3 IN THE MOTHERFUCKING MORNING.
Now, if you don’t read me that often, you may not know that I love sleeping. I mean, I love sleeping. I’m a huge fan. But what I don’t love is being woken up. For, like, any reason. And people who know me are aware of this. 3 a.m. is an unacceptable time to call me unless it’s an emergency. So when my phone rings at 3 a.m., I’m going to assume it is an emergency. It wasn’t.
There I was, dead to the world and happy as a clam, when my phone rang. Struggling to open my eyes and look at the clock, I panicked when I saw the time. Who could be calling me? What was wrong? Had something happened? Fumbling around in the dark, I located my phone (randomly under a pillow in my bed) and answered it. I didn’t check my caller ID. I just answered.
I was expecting a family member or friend. I got a fucking moron:
Redhead: (still pretty asleep but concerned) Hello?
Guy #2: Redhead? (he actually said my real name here, but humor me)
Redhead: (realizing its not anyone I care about or like – and certainly not an emergency – I get instantly livid) Who is this?
Guy #2: It’s Guy #2. (he actually used his real…never mind)
Redhead: (not even trying to sound calm) What the fuck are you doing calling me at 3 in the morning?
Guy #2: I wanted to talk to you.
Redhead: (sitting up and letting my voice raise – sorry neighbors) Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t returned one of your phone calls or text messages. It’s been 2 fucking weeks! Get a fucking clue! Don’t fucking call me in the middle of the night!
Guy #2: Yeah, but…
Redhead: What is your fucking problem?! I was just sleeping! I have to get up for work in 3 hours! And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t want to talk to you, you fucking idiot! Fuck off, leave me alone, and never, ever, ever call me again. Jackass!
So, yup. That’s what I call a meltdown. Inadvisable if this guy ends up being unbalanced and/or a stalker? Clearly. A solid 9 out of 10 on the bitch scale? No question. Something I regret in any way, shape, or form? Nope. I feel totally comfortable with how I handled the situation. I mean, 3 in the morning?
Anyway (deep breath), I’m over it now. And that’s not even what this post is about – that’s just kind of an explanation before I begin. You see, I’m seeing the world through bitch colored glasses this morning, and in my crabby (and sleepy) state, I decided to stumble through the news section of the US Magazine site (always a good brainless early morning activity). Since I hadn’t been there in a while, I went back a few days to read through all the posts. And one caught my eye.
Called Hollywood’s Teetotalers, I quickly guessed what that ‘story’ was about. And I smiled. Who doesn’t love typically stupid actress quotes? I knew I was going to get some holier than thou bullshit, and I normally love that stuff – it makes me feel good about myself and my intelligence. But today, since I’m in ‘a mood,’ I feel a particularly strong need to rip into these women and what they said. So, since I have this lovely space to do so, here are my top 3 nitwits:
—“I'm not really a drinker…I think it's gross. I really don't like drunk women; I think it is such a bad look. I think it's very inappropriate and I don't like it…I think it's incredibly embarrassing when people are drunk. It just looks so ridiculous. I find it very degrading. I think, ooh, you're really degrading yourself right now, to be this pissed out in public.”
Really? You mean it doesn’t look good to get falling-down drunk? Are you sure? Because I always thought the reason women get totally fucked up was because it looked good. Those half-mast eyes, inevitably running makeup, and sort of clammy skin always looked hot to me. In fact, when the world is spinning around me and I’m praying I make it to the bathroom before I throw-up, I always think ‘damn this is a good look for me.’ But you’re saying it isn’t? Are you sure you pseudo-British wannabe?
Because you’ve never been drunk before, right Gwyneth? All those stories I’ve heard about your younger days are just gossip, I’m sure. And this quote I found after a quick Google search of you? This can’t be right – right?
“As a teenager at a posh New York private school, blonde, blue-eyed Gwyneth was a rebel without a pause. Never short of dates, she drank, smoked dope and drove her parents mental by staying out all night.” –Sunday Mail (UK), June 30, 1996
Hmmm. Now I don’t know much about the Sunday Mail, but it sounds like you DO have a few nights in your past that you’d like to take back. Interesting.
Well, no bother. Anyone who names her kid Apple isn’t someone whose opinion I really respect anyway.
Oh, but way to call out drunk women in particular – they ARE so much ‘grosser’ than drunk men. You’re a fucking genius.
—“I don't drink, I don't smoke and I've never done any drugs. I avoid fried foods and have even given up coffee. I have remarkably few vices and I'm never late.”
-Sarah Michelle Gellar
Wow. Sarah Michelle Gellar is a saint! I knew it! First Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and now just a perfect human being. How does she do it?
I mean, sure, she married Freddie Prinze, Jr., which is just sad. And she was in those horrible Scooby Doo movies. Oh, and some really bad romantic comedies – but they don’t hire her for those anymore.
Still, that teenage boy’s body seems to be working for her. And I’m sure she’s a really fun friend to have; what with the no drinking, smoking, drugs, fried food, or coffee, there’s so much more time to…um…
Well, she WAS Buffy.
—“I don’t drink – I’ll have a sip, but I’ve never been drunk – and I don’t smoke. I envy people who have those releases. They just have a drink or a cigarette and they feel better. I have to brave it through the whole day on my own.”
You know, when I think Jennifer Lopez, I DO think ‘brave.’ It’s brave to get married three times in less than 10 years (but engaged 4 times – that we know of!). It’s certainly brave to appear in any movie after Gigli. And to go out in clothes that JUST BARELY cover the naughty bits – brave, brave, brave. To go out in sheer clothing without a bra – brave. To actually name your record ‘J to tha L-O!’ – brave. To still call yourself a ‘simple girl from the Bronx’ when everyone who's ever worked for you calls you a diva – brave.
To marry Marc Anthony – legitimately brave.
J. Lo, you are my inspiration.
Happy Friday everyone!