Thursday, May 31, 2007


So I was going to write about the joys (or not if you’re traveling with me) of the road trip today. I was going to talk about picking the right road trip partner, stocking the car with food, not falling asleep on your companion, etc. I was doing this because I’m driving down – well, actually a friend of mine is driving (she’s not stupid enough to put me behind the wheel) – to DC this weekend, and 4 hours in a car with me is a challenge. Imagine what 15 hours would do to someone – just ask my college boyfriend.

Quick story: So college boyfriend and I were going to my parents’ house for spring break one year (he’d never been to NY before), and we decided to drive all the way from school (roughly a 15 hour trip). Boyfriend must have lost his mind to want to do that with me. Anyway, he quickly realized that a) I don’t sit in the car for long periods of time well, and b) I don’t do well when spending long periods of time with one person – unfortunately it was too late when he realized this. Long story short, when we arrived at my parents’ house, he got out of the car looking like he’d just been to hell. When my mother saw him, she smiled and asked, “How was she?” His reply? “She got MEAN towards the end.” Needless to say, my mom was not surprised.

Anyway, I WAS going to go into the road trip rules today (the very ones I don’t follow) and tell a longer, more involved version of the above story. But I got distracted. By what you ask? Why, by the NY Post Stray-Rod story. Why, you ask? Because I’m a Yankees fan? Well…not exactly. You see, there’s something you don’t know about me (on purpose). And I guess the time has come to come clean: The thing is…the truth is…(deep breath)…I’ve always had a thing for A-Rod.

Shut up.

It happened a long time ago, and I’ve just never been able to shake it. I sort of fell for him when he was with Seattle and I was too young to know better. I mean, the combination of his talent, his face (and NO, he does not have purple lips), and his body (especially his ass) were just too much for me to fight. He just DID IT for me. Still does. (Stop laughing.) So even though he’s pissed me off and done stupid things many times throughout the years, I still always liked him. Liked him/wanted him – the specifics aren’t important. What is important is that this crush is not a secret amongst my friends. As a matter of fact, EVERYONE knows.

So when the NY Post put him on the cover yesterday – in what appeared to be a very compromising position – I heard about it. Repeatedly. And I felt...disappointed. Not by his bad behavior and implied infidelity – I’ve heard the rumors about him before. Nope. I was disappointed by his choice in women.

The chick he was photographed with in Toronto wasn’t even cute. A-Rod can do better. Hell, he can do…um, nevermind.

Besides being disappointed about the woman, I was disappointed with his stupidity. I mean, he was so busted! Not only did he allow himself to be photographed with another woman, but they were obviously followed all night. Did it not occur to him to at least have her go up to his hotel room in a different elevator? Jesus dude, if your going to seemingly* cheat, you’ve got to be smarter than that.

I mean, there’s ‘media challenged’ and then there’s just ‘Hello, I’m a moron.’ And I think we all know where Alex falls right now.

Um, let me say this quickly and get it out of the way – I realize I’m making light of this situation, and the reason I’m doing so is because I’m not personally involved. If I was, I can assure you Alex would be lying in a ditch somewhere – I don’t share well and I have a bit of a temper (in case you haven’t noticed). But as an outsider I am free to just sit back and enjoy the pure gossip overload that is going on here. And I am. Like everyone else, I enjoy rumors and scandal – it is quite literally in every human being’s DNA – but that doesn’t mean that I’m completely heartless. I realize A-Rod is married - that he has a wife and child out there and they don’t think this is funny. I get it, and I genuinely feel for them. But at the end of the day, this blog is all about me, and let’s not forget that. So please, no one send me any emails calling me a bitch – I’m already aware of that fact.

So A-Rod, if you’re out there, let’s sum up:
1) Don’t cheat.
2) If you’re going to cheat, pick a hot chick (might as well make it worthwhile).
3) If you’re out on a date with someone who isn’t your wife, don’t let yourself be photographed with her.
4) I’m a bitch and it’s all about me.
5) I’m once again embarrassed to have a crush on you (but that won’t stop me from having it).

Alright, that’s it kiddies. I’m leaving town tomorrow, so don’t expect a Friday post, have a great weekend, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. (Wait, no, scratch that. I’m a poor role model/moral compass. Um…just try not to get arrested.)

*Let us keep in mind that we don’t know what happened in that hotel room. We only have common sense and conjecture.

Update: Been reading the morning papers - boy, A-Rod sure does like strip clubs! And muscular, 'she-male' type women. There go my chances.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Random Wednesday

-There is no greater food than Haagen Dazs ice cream – Coffee and Mayan Chocolate are my personal favorites. Coffee because…duh. And Mayan Chocolate because the only thing that can make dark chocolate ice cream better? Cinnamon. If I had to use one word to describe how good these flavors are: Orgasmic.

-I was on the subway the other day, and there was a tiny, kind of goofy looking middle-aged guy who was pissing me off. Why? Because he was just standing there, smiling and looking very pleased with himself – for no apparent reason. And this annoys me (what doesn’t?). So I found myself thinking thoughts like, ‘What could this weird looking little dude have to smile about? If I had to go through life looking like him, I sure as hell wouldn’t be grinning like a fool on a rush hour subway.’ You know, my typical nice thoughts. But then I looked down. And um…it became quite clear why he was just standing there smiling and looking proud of himself. It would seem that goofy guy was packing quite the impressive tool. I mean, he probably topped out at 5’3, he had little squinty eyes, he must have weighed 85 lbs. while soaking wet, and – from the looks of what I saw straining against his zipper – he had about 10 fat inches of…um …well, dick that he was carrying around. And you know what? After seeing that, I stopped resenting him. He earned his smug smile – even I was speechless.

-This is just my weekly obligatory ‘the Yankees are making me physically sick’ shout out. Now we won’t talk about it again until next week.

-Dunkin’ Donuts has a coconut iced coffee thing, and I’d just like to say I’m obsessed with it. Between me practically mainlining it every day, and my daily ritual of rubbing on coconut body butter after showering (smells so good and makes my skin oh so soft), I’m starting to smell like a piña colada.

-My friend Linda gave me a book last week and told me I’d love it. That was it, just ‘read this, I know you’ll love it.’ So I took it home to Jersey with me on Sunday, thinking it would be a good by-the-pool book (it looked very chick lit/romance-y). And I have to say, I was a little surprised by the content. Not the first 10 incredibly graphic sex scenes (those are just par for the course, right?), but it was the anal sex/spanking chapter that I found kind of unexpected. The fact that I was AT MY PARENTS’ HOUSE while reading it probably didn’t help. (Boy, they sure don’t make romances like they used to.) Still, Linda was right – it was a fun book. Pure trash.

-I can’t believe my friends are doing this to me. Again. You see, another one of my friends is getting married, and I’m going to be a bridesmaid. That part’s fine. What’s not fine is the dress. For the second time in the last 3 years, I am going to find myself stuck in a church without a bra on. (Seriously, unless ALL of your bridesmaids wear a B cup or smaller, it’s just cruel to choose the super low-cut design.) I believe the words ‘porn star’ were uttered more than once at the last wedding. On the bright side, I had zero trouble getting any action from the ridiculously hot but totally inappropriate groomsman. (And the best part – he was leaving on a jet plane the next day. Weddings are the best.)

-In honor of the fact that there’s every chance I’m going to cheat on NY Guy this weekend, here’s a list of the Top 5 famous guys I’d like to sleep with (this changes from week to week – I have a very short attention span):
1. Channing Tatum in the movie She’s the Man – it’s now playing on HBO, he spends half the movie with his shirt off, and I can honestly say that I want to do naughty, naughty things to his body.
2. Hugh Jackman – I don’t care about the rumors, I’d do him in a second. And those pictures of him on the beach that have been all over the Internet? Fuck. Yes.
3. Jake Gyllenhaal in Jarhead – yes, I’m watching too much HBO. Anyway, between the uniform he wears in the movie and his shirtless/ass scenes, I completely forgave him for those ridiculous sideburns from Brokeback Mountain. Good Fucking God.
4. George Clooney – cause he’s George Clooney. (Plus, the pictures of him from Cannes make him look good enough to eat. Yum.) Just don’t tell my sister he made my list – she called him years ago and I’m technically not allowed to look at him anymore.
5. Michael Vartan – thank God for Alias repeats. This guy just blows my mind – he’s literally so hot I can’t think straight. Why Jennifer Garner chose Ben Affleck over him is completely beyond me. What a moron.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Some Questions, Then Dessert

Hmmm. It’s occurred to me that I know a lot of really nice people. I surround myself with them actually (because I’m smart). People who are kind and caring and supportive. People who not only put up with me, but treat me with love and respect. And it’s so…fucking confusing. I mean, I don’t deserve that kind of treatment. I’m a heinous bitch, everyone knows that. So while it makes sense why I keep them around, what doesn’t make sense is why the hell they keep me around. Sure, I can be funny (often unintentionally). I’m quirky and entertaining (inappropriately so). And I can be nice when need be. But still…

Did you know that I’ve never been dumped? As obnoxious as I am and having dated as many men as I have (shut up), I’ve never been dumped. Cheated on, yes. But dumped? Nope. And I’ve deserved a dumping or two, trust me. Yet it’s never happened. Hell, even the guy who cheated flew halfway across the country to apologize when I found out – 6 full months AFTER we had broken up. And while he was wrong for cheating (and believe me, I told him that – loudly, and with profanity), it wasn’t like things were great between us when it happened. I mean, I MAY have even mentioned to him that I was ‘just staying with [him] out of convenience.’ Yet I was the one who eventually broke up with him.

People just seem to keep me around. Smart people who should know better. And that’s nice I guess (bizarre, but nice). Take NY Guy: He’s great – good looking, successful, confident. He’s a catch; I know that. But still, I blow him off all the time (like I do with everyone). I forget to return phone calls. I say I can’t get together because I don’t feel like it. AND, I’ve even acted moody around him (as I may have mentioned, I’m quitting smoking – that’s brought me even closer to the edge of sanity than usual). I HAVE NOT been as much fun as I’m capable of being (which usually counteracts my personality issues).

So why haven’t I been dumped? No idea. NY Guy seems to have taken the popular approach (amongst my friends anyway) or killing me with kindness. And this works. It confuses me. It makes me feel guilty. It (almost) makes me behave. (Where did they teach people this trick? Did I miss the day in school when they taught this? Because I could really have used a Humanity 101 course.)

Some examples of what I mean: Just last week NY Guy stopped and bought fresh cherries on his way over to my apartment because I had mentioned how much I like them. He bought me daisies on our way home from dinner a few days ago because I commented they were my favorite flower. He gives me free massages (no reciprocation required – score!) whenever I get all jittery and can’t relax (a new problem since I quit smoking). And he does these things because…I deserve them? Doubtful.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not all bad. There are reasons that he (and everyone I know) sticks around. Like I said, I’m normally really fun. I’m not demanding (really), not clingy, an easy conversationalist, have a pretty good sense of humor, I’m relatively smart, and – when I eventually care about someone (very, very, very small group of people I’m referring to here) – I’m as loyal as a dog. I’ve even been told I’m nice to look at. But still, generally speaking, I’m a bitch. So the reason I have such good friends is…? Anyone? Any thoughts/insight here you might want to share? Want to tell me to take my good fortune for granted and shut the fuck up? Go ahead. I’m open to suggestions.

But enough of the soul-searching questions – let’s get to the fun stuff. I can’t wait for the weekend to start; it’s going to be awesome! All good things and good food. First, NY Guy and I are going out for Spanish food on Saturday night (yay paella and sangria!!!), and then Sunday I’m going into Jersey for a barbeque at my parents’ house. And my nephews are going to be there! A whole day by the pool, eating, swimming, and playing. Needless to say, between my nephews and my parents’ dog, I’m excited. AND no work on Monday.

Life is good.

But the question is, what to make? See, I’m in charge of dessert on Sunday. (Have I mentioned here that I love to bake? How surprised are you on scale of 1 to 10? No one ever sees me as the domestic type until I start talking about sweets.) I’m thinking…chocolate chunk cookies (for the kids), cheesecake bars (for my brother), and…hmmm, either brownies (ridiculously chocolaty made with the best cocoa) or maybe lemon bars (because I love them and I bet I can take home the leftovers). I’ll leave the fresh fruit and other healthy stuff to my parents. So what do you guys think? Brownies? Something else entirely? Anyone care?

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Redhead the Whiner

Hey, I’m throwing this post up right now and warning everyone that I will not be putting anything up tomorrow – I have a ‘Spring Fling’ office cocktail thing this afternoon, and then I’m off to the Yanks-Sox game. So, it should come as no surprise to any of my readers that I plan to drink heavily at both events. Therefore, the odds of my being even remotely coherent tomorrow are slim to none, and…wait…yup, slim left town. (Bite me, that was funny.)

Anyway, in the meantime, let’s tell a little story. Hmmm, what might you guys want to hear about? Well, I call no drunk Redhead stories today (since I’m planning on being a drunk Redhead tonight), and I think we should save many of my ‘I can really pick ‘em’ guy stories for another time – like when I can’t think of anything else to write about. Soooo, maybe a nice tale from Redhead’s childhood is just what the doctor ordered. (Note: Is my use of the third person annoying you? Because I’m kind of liking it – I feel like Rickey Henderson.)

OK, so let’s go back a few years to the third grade (or thereabouts). Now it may be hard to believe, but I was a pain in the ass back then. Some would even go so far as to call me a complainer. No, really. I claim I was just trying to get noticed – being the youngest of three kids and all – but I guess there is a chance that I really was just annoying. Anyway, I needed more attention, so after much soul-searching (not really), I chose to go the obnoxious/whiny route. And it worked for me. I really was very hard to ignore. And I thought (still do actually) that made me endearing.

Anyway, it was around this time that I found myself at a birthday party for one of my best friends. It was at a roller skating rink, and I was an OUTSTANDING roller skater. So outstanding in fact, that I got a little cocky. Some would even call me stupid. Either way, I needed a bit of excitement to make things interesting. So I organized a group of us to hold hands in a line and whip around in a circle. Why? Because it would be fun, damnit. And it was. I got the prime position at the very end of the line that was being spun, and I was moving. Fast.

So fast (it turns out) that I had a bit of trouble stopping when we let go. I like to call this the moment in my life when I learned about momentum and the whole ‘an object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force’ thing. My outside force? The wall.

It really came upon me (or did I come upon it?) so quickly that I don’t remember much. One second I was having fun skating, and then the next second I was hurtling toward a wall. And then I was hitting the wall. Hard.

And it hurt. A lot.

At some point I apparently put my arm up – I imagine in an effort to protect my face from making any significant contact with said wall – but I honestly don’t remember doing so. I do remember the impact when my arm hit though. That managed to get my attention.

Oh, did I mention that it hurt?

Trying valiantly not to cry (total lie), I stumbled off the rink and toward the mothers that were there. I needed comforting. So as they cooed over me, gave me cake before everyone else (score), and inspected the wrist that had now started to swell, I began to calm down.

That is, until my mother arrived to pick me up. Then I started to blubber again. Unfortunately, my mother had seen me sitting there looking fine just moments before, so she basically deduced that I was full of shit (which I usually was). Even when the other mothers explained to her what happened, my mom remained unmoved. Oh she laughed (because I’m a spaz and that’s funny), and said all the right things – yes, she would keep an eye on my wrist – but I would generally characterize her demeanor as…unconcerned.

Yet still I persevered. I whined. I bitched. I moaned. ‘My wrist really hurts,’ I said. ‘I think there’s something really wrong with it,’ I whimpered. ‘I can’t move it,’ I wailed. Basically, I was an all-around nightmare. Pretty much par for the course.

Didn’t work. My mom wasn’t buying it. Don’t get me wrong, she iced the wrist. She had me rest it on a pillow. She made little sympathetic noises when I really seemed to need it. But the overriding feeling amongst the family was that I was overreacting. I was being dramatic. I was being…myself.

So it really shouldn’t surprise anyone that it took my mother a week to finally give in and take me to a doctor – more to get me to shut up than anything else. And imagine her surprise when the doctor told her (after taking some x-rays) that I did indeed have a broken wrist. That I had been walking around with a broken wrist. For a week. Possibly doing further damage to myself. Because she didn’t believe her own child. (He didn’t really say that last part.)

Mom had the grace to look guilty. Actually, she looked kind of horrified. Like she was going to be sick. So horrified in fact, that I didn’t even give her a guilt trip right away. Eventually, but not right away. It just seemed like it would be too cruel, you know?

Besides, I didn’t blame her - I didn’t then and I don’t now. It’s the classic ‘boy who cried wolf’ situation. I made a big deal out of every little scrape and bruise – blowing them way out of proportion – to the point where when I finally got a real injury, no one believed me. I’m actually pretty surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

But the best part of this story took place the next summer. I was away at camp, and during the first week fell during a hike. Not wanting to take any chances, the camp sent me to a doctor who took some x-rays. (Note: The camp and doctor were in the middle of nowhere.) Turns out, my wrist was broken. Again. So I spent the whole hot, sweaty summer sitting there watching everyone else play. I couldn’t even go swimming in the lake to cool off – because I couldn’t get my damn cast wet! I basically sat on my ass and did nothing for 6 weeks –and it wasn’t as fun as it could have been. (I blame the whole no a/c or tv situation.)

Anyway, after toughing it out, getting the cast off, and returning home, I went for a follow-up appointment with my doctor. ‘Hmmm,’ he said, looking at my new x-rays. Then he looked at me. Then his lips twitched. (Uh oh.) Clearing his throat, he turned away and started to chuckle. (WTF?) ‘Sorry,’ he apologized, still kind of laughing, ‘but it appears your wrist was never broken a second time.’

Apparently, the boondocks camp doctor had looked at my x-rays and seen my old (healed) break. Only being a complete and total fuck-up, he didn’t have the intelligence/training/sobriety to tell the difference between that and a fresh break! So I got to wear a cast for 6 weeks at the summer camp from hell. For no reason! (Wow, I feel all warm and fuzzy just remembering it all.)

So, the lesson for this Tuesday/Wednesday in May: Life isn’t fair.

Monday, May 21, 2007

The Mock Girlfriend

Even with a (more pronounced than usual) attitude problem, I was awesome on Saturday night. I met NY Guy’s friends, did my thing, and walked out knowing I had gotten the job done. How did I do it? Well, I know how to make a good first impression on a group of guys – it’s not that hard. So as a public service, why don’t I share some of my tricks with any of the women (are there any women?) reading this blog.

Some of this stuff is common sense, but it doesn’t hurt to repeat it. And with that, when meeting your man’s friends for the first time:

-Look great. What can I say, whether we want to admit it or not, how we look reflects on our boyfriends. It’s like this: He’s not just hoping that his friends like you – he wants his friends to think you’re hot. That translates into his being able to land the hot chick, his friends being envious, and him feeling like a stud. So it’s important to put the effort in, even if you don’t feel like it or resent having to do it.

-Put the focus on them. They may all know each other and be there to meet you, but you still have to follow the most basic of rules: People like to talk about themselves. So while most of the conversation will just be the usual casual bullshitting, remember to make a point to talk to each guy, ask questions, and actually act interested in their answers. And if you actually know and like sports, use that – it’s the easiest fallback topic there is.

-Only be as affectionate as your man. You want to come across as interested in your guy, but not needy. So if he wants to touch or kiss in front of his friends, you respond (but obviously don’t go overboard). However, you never initiate it.

-Make sure you buy a round. Now the guys are going to be buying most of the drinks, but you don’t want to even appear to be taking advantage. So at some point (not at the very beginning of the night), buy a round for everyone. And DON’T make a big deal out of it. It’s what anyone in the group would do.

-Do not get drunk. You don’t want to sit there all night nursing one drink, but you need to be paying attention. This is not the time to lose control. Still, that doesn't mean they shouldn't get drunk. In fact, you want to get them as drunk as possible – when all is said and done, you’ll seem like you were more fun the more they’ve had to drink.

-Teasing is good – guys respond to teasing. If you’re too polite, it affects the tone. Plus, guys like to joke around. So relax and go with it; they’ll think you’re low maintenance if you can take a little ripping as well as hand it out.

-Don’t complain. About anything. I don’t care how late it is or how tired you are – suck it up for one night. They can all be drunk and acting like assholes, and all you can do is grin and bear it. Although this leads me to…

-Pass judgment. Obviously don’t do this out loud, but this is a great opportunity to learn something about your man. For instance, how many tools are in the bunch? Every guy is allowed one friend who’s a complete dud, but if the number climbs above 2 or 3, you might need to reevaluate things. These guys reflect on your guy – so if he surrounds himself with morons, I suggest cutting your losses and running.

And finally…

-Show confidence. You may be the one on trial here, but don’t act like it. Just be cool and relaxed, don’t look for compliments or put yourself down in any way, and don’t let them push you around. These guys don’t want to alienate their friend any more than you want to alienate his friends, so everyone (hypothetically) should be working toward the same goal – getting along and liking each other. So have fun (it’s not like you have to marry the guy or his friends after one night out) and calm down. At the end of the day, it’s just drinks.

Friday, May 18, 2007

I’m Having a Meltdown

Hey, so I’m a bitch. I know, I’ve pointed this out before. But trust me, it’s getting worse. Pretty much everyone is pissing me off lately. (Note: This may have something to do with my job upping the pressure/workload yet – curiously – not upping the pay, OR it may have to do with the fact that I’m attempting to quit smoking. But you know what? I don’t really care about the reason.) Anyway, forgive me, but I’m about to go off – and yes, I know I’m going to hell…

-Hey fat people – yeah, I said it – lose some fucking weight! No, I’m not kidding. You take up too much fucking room when you sit down on the subway (and shouldn’t you be standing and, I don’t know, burning calories?). Sitting there while a four year old stands a few feet away is not going to endear me, or the rest of the world, to your fat ass.

-Person sleeping on the subway – wake the fuck up! Wait, let me rephrase that: People sleeping on the subway – if you attempt to rest your head on my shoulder one more time, I am going to fucking explode. I mean it – this is going to be much worse that my usual M.O. of jabbing you with my elbow and telling you to get the fuck off (you disgusting fucking stranger – you think I want you touching me?).

-Creepy guy in my office who seems to do NOTHING but stare at my breasts – I am THISCLOSE to getting my fucking ass fired for kicking you in the nuts. Cut. It. Out.

-Carl Pavano – I hope you and your delicate, delicate little body rot in hell. Until you show up at Yankees Stadium and buy every season ticket holder a fucking $9 beer (and apologize damnit), you’re on my shit list.

-Doctors and insurance companies – fuck you! Thanks to you I have to pay $125 for being a smoker! Like I don’t spend enough on actual fucking cigarettes. OK, the story: I went for a physical a few weeks ago (which is supposedly completely covered by insurance), and my doctor asked me if I smoke. Thinking she would probably know if I was lying, I said yes. In response, she informed me that smoking was bad for me (NO!), and asked if I wanted any literature on quitting. ‘Not right now’ I replied, feeling guilty (which I imagine was the fucking point), and left it at that. That is, until a couple of days ago when I got a bill from my insurance company for $125. Apparently, when my doctor spent “Between 2 and 10 minutes discussing the dangers of smoking” with me, I was getting an “Extra.” You know, something my insurance company doesn’t cover. (Although there’s no way she spent even two full minutes talking to me about that shit.) So thanks everyone, I’m quitting (mainly so I never have to pay that fucking fee again). And I’m in a bad fucking mood – I haven’t been able to relax in days. That’ll teach me never to tell the truth again.

-People who pick at/touch themselves. You know who I’m talking about – the women who don’t just toss their hair but CONSTANTLY fucking touch, twirl, or tug on it. The people who mindlessly do little shit like rub two fingers together – all…day…long. The assholes whose unconscious ticks make me want to commit a homicide.

-Elevator morons – otherwise known as the fuckwads who come up while you’re waiting for the elevator and push the up/down button. Like I hadn’t fucking thought of that! I mean sure, the arrow’s all lit up and I’m standing there, but maybe that’s just some weird coincidence. Maybe I’m brain damaged and like to stand in front of elevators staring at the doors. Or maybe their magical touch is just what the elevator needs to realize we’re serious. I don’t know. But I swear, one day I’m not going to stop at just shooting these fuckers a nasty look.

-Anyone who walks a couple paces ahead of the person they’re with. Everyone I know does this to me. I’ll admit it – I’m a stroller. I like to walk at my own pace, and I don’t hurry for anyone. But I’m also not walking at a ridiculously slow pace. I have long fucking legs and I’ve even been known to pass people. So what’s your fucking problem? Are we running late for an appointment no one told me about? I thought we were just shopping. Wait, are we in a race? Because you’re pissing me off, and I want you to know that if it’s such a fucking hardship to walk beside me so we can have a conversation, then get the fuck out of my life. I’m done with this game.

(And exhale.)

OK. And with that I hope everyone has a good weekend. Don’t let anyone drive you nuts. And wish me luck, I’ll be spending Saturday with NY Guy’s friends! Apparently, we’re at THAT point in our relationship. Fucking* yay! And while I’ve actually already met a few of these guys, I’m getting the impression Saturday is my official unveiling as ‘The Girlfriend.’ (Let’s pretend I’m not going to visit another guy in 2 weeks, shall we.) So this should be fun. Check back on Monday to see how it went.

*Number of times I used the word ‘fuck’ in this post: 20

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

More Music

Most. Half-Assed. Post. Ever. That’s what this is. But since no one but onthevirg has been commenting lately, I don’t really care. (Seriously, if you’ve been reading this blog and not commenting, you suck – how hard is it to just get on and say ‘hi’? I’m friendly…sort of.) Alright, let’s get to it.

So the weather in NY has been beautiful lately, and my music selections have been reflecting this. And with that in mind, here’s some of the goodness that I’ve been listening to on my iPod recently:

-Girls by the Beastie Boys: This song totally reminds me of college. I had to do a 15 minute documentary for an Intro to Film class, and I used this song over the title sequence – not surprisingly for those who read this blog, I decided to do my documentary on the differences between men and women. (Honestly, it’s just such an easy fallback topic when you can’t think of anything else…oops, I’ve said too much.)

-Three Little Birds by Bob Marley: Nothing gets you in the mood for good weather quite like Marley. I instantly feel like I’m in my bikini on a beach.

-Doin’ Time by Sublime: What would one of my lists be without a Sublime recommendation? This one is great – very mellow, yet I feel an insane urge to sing along whenever I hear it. “Summertime, and the living’s easy…”

-Fuel by Metallica: Just because I still don’t know how you wake up in the morning (no matter how nice it is outside) without Metallica.

-We Gotta Get Out of This Place by the Animals: This one is reserved specifically for just as I’m leaving work. So appropriate. Really puts a smile on my face.

-The Joker by the Steve Miller Band: Well fuck, this one’s just a flat-out good song. Who doesn’t like this one?

-Hot in the City by Billy Idol: Because starting around now, I’m going to be hot in the city. Might as well have my own personal theme music while I’m walking down the street.

-Low Rider by War: I think this is the Dazed and Confused factor – the moment I hear this song now I think of the last day of school, and that will ALWAYS mean summer to me.

-Paradise City by Guns ‘N Roses: While this song is great all year long, it does seem to get better as the weather heats up. (Note: Don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like Guns ‘N Roses – it’s not natural.)

-Everybody Wants You by Billy Squier: Not only is this one an awesome song, but it’s my own personal (internal) ego boost. EVERYONE should listen to this song EVERY day.

Alright, that’s enough for now - maybe more next week. What about everyone else? Any good music (that gets better in the summer) recommendations? I’ll try not to mock your choices.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

My Mother

I know it’s a couple of days past Mother’s Day, but I don’t care – I’m posting about my mommy anyway. (I would have written something on Sunday, but I was a little distracted by the fact that my mother never returned my ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ phone call – apparently she was ‘busy until 11at night’ and she ‘didn’t call my sister back either.’ If she wasn’t so cute, she wouldn’t get away with this shit.)

Anyway, after you read this I suspect you’ll have the typical reaction: How did a woman who sounds so sweet and likable raise someone like Redhead? Well, it’s a mystery – one we’ve wondered about in my family for quite some time. But anyway, here goes – 11 things that make my mom unique in all the world:

*She lies indiscriminately. Seriously, she does. It’s gotten to the point where after she says things that don’t sound right, I’ll just ask: Did you just lie to me? More than likely, the answer will be yes. The plus side to this is she always admits readily to her lies. In fact, a lot of the time she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it. Quick story: A few years ago my mom, my sister, and I went to Disneyworld – I had never been so we made a girls weekend out of it. Anyway, we were waiting in line for one of those 3D movie things, and the woman standing in line behind us asked if we knew how long the movie was. Without batting an eye my mother said, ‘an hour.’ So the woman decided that was too long for her daughter to sit through, and she left. After she’d walked away, my sister and I turned to my mother with questioning (and trusting) eyes. This is the conversation that followed:
Redhead and Sister: Really? Where did you hear that? We don’t want to sit through an hour movie either.
Mom: (Thinking…then shrugging)
Redhead and Sister: Mom, did you make that up?
Mom: (Sheepish look)
Redhead and Sister: Why did you lie to that poor woman?
Mom: I don’t know – she seemed like she wanted an answer.
Redhead and Sister: But you didn’t have the answer!
Mom: (Another sheepish look)
Let me be clear here – she is not being malicious when she lies. SHE JUST DOES IT. There is no thought process behind this. When you look like you want an answer, she just gives you one – truth be damned. The main problem is she sells the lies very well, so if you don’t know her you can be swindled. (FYI – the 3D movie was about 10 minutes long.) Yup, that’s my mom. My moral compass.

*She’s prone to hyperbole. Like if she enjoys something, it’s immediately the ‘best ever.’ She does this with everything, and it’s kind of a running joke in my family. At this point we feel the need to remind her of the time she declared Taco Bell ‘the best ever’ – this was after they gave her a toy in her kid’s meal.

*She doesn’t cook. I was literally raised on takeout (except on Sundays when my father cooked). But she does cook one meal a year – Thanksgiving. And she reminds us of this every time we complain. Only cooking stresses her out, so over the years I’ve started helping her with Thanksgiving. And at this point I basically make everything but the turkey. Still, Thanksgiving is her meal, and she gets credit for it. (Oh, and she rubs off on people. All of my friends’ moms cooked when they were growing up – until they met my mom. From then on their moms stopped cooking too. I’m not sure what she said to them, but she became kind of famous for this amongst my classmates.)

*She’ll cry at the drop of a hat. She cries when she’s happy, when she’s sad, at a particularly good commercial. It’s so ridiculous that no one even really notices anymore. Even I don’t respond – and generally speaking crying freaks me out. But not my mom; not only am I used to it, but I think it’s kind of cute. She doesn’t cry to manipulate, she just wears her heart on her sleeve. You have to like that.

*She can’t fight. Even when I was going through my difficult teenage years, my mother and I probably fought once every year or two. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. On the extremely rare occasions when she would yell back (and I always deserved it), she would burst into tears and immediately apologize (even when it was my fault – which was always), because she ‘couldn’t stand being in a fight with me.’ It made acting like a little shit so much harder.

*Her tastebuds are fucked. I’m not kidding – the woman can’t tell the difference between vodka and gin. They taste exactly the same to her. This drives me and my father (both foodies) nuts.

*She hates sports, but knows more about them than most people. This is thanks to everyone else in the family. My dad, sister, and I all love sports, and my brother actually works in the industry. So she reads the paper every day and always pays attention to people who are talking about our teams. This translates into her being able to quote obscure numbers to us. The breadth of her knowledge is staggering at times. Yet whenever a Yankee game is on, the only thing she really seems interested in is how cute Derek Jeter is. Go figure.

*She has the attention span of a 10 year old. (This is in spite of the fact that she has her doctorate and is a graduate school professor.) My mom regularly admits to not listening to me because she’s doing something else when we’re on the phone, I’ve never seen her sit through a movie without picking up a magazine or book halfway through, and she often stops talking in the middle of sentences because she has moved on already and forgotten what she was talking about. Actually, that last one deserves its own point…

*If she ever goes senile, we won’t notice. I can’t tell you how many times a week my phone will ring, and when I answer it she’ll open with ‘I was calling to tell you something – it was profound – but I can’t remember what it is now.’ She’ll also forget conversations that we had the day before (probably because she wasn’t paying attention), and she has been known to walk into rooms and get confused because she can’t remember what she was coming to do (and she’s always been like this). On the plus side, it does make things interesting.

*She’s spoiled rotten. In a good way. Let me say this much – she’s a special woman who is very much appreciated by her family and friends. Everyone loves her. My father adores her, my siblings and I worship her, and the dogs look at her like she created heaven and earth (although that may be because she feeds them). Hell, even when she tells me the dogs are cuter than I am, I accept it – she’s right after all. So I don’t begrudge her those two walk-in closets (although she needs to stop shopping) and the regular vacations she goes on. If anyone deserves it, she does. Which leads to my last point for the day…

*She’s the strongest woman I know. She’s the best woman I know. OK, time to get a bit more serious than I usually prefer: Although she’s got it pretty good, life has kicked my mother in the ass more times than I can count. Yet she has undoubtedly the most positive outlook of anyone I know. She’s flaky yet sharp. She’s mushy as a marshmallow yet tough as nails. And she NEVER complains. I don’t doubt for a second that she would take on the world and win if need be. I mean hell, she’s taken on me (and continues to keep me around). So to my mom, who doesn’t even know about about this blog and will never read this: I love you. You are my hero and my best friend. And you can blow me off on Mother’s Day any time you want.

Friday, May 11, 2007

This Might Take a While

Fuck me AND my super-long posts you say? Well just for that, here’s another epically long fucker. And feel free to thank onthevirg for it.

Kidding (only not about the long post – sorry). Actually, onthevirg had a point – why do I always comment on men’s rules and behaviors yet never give away any corresponding women’s info? If I’m going to write that much, shouldn’t I give some secrets away? Well yes, I should.

The easy answer for why I haven’t done this yet is it always seemed like a lot of work to come up with a list of things men should know about women – and I felt I needed to come up with the women's info myself (you know, being a woman and all). But once I decided to lift the women’s info too, things became a whole hell of a lot easier. (Bite me, I’m more opinionated than creative.)

By lifting the below info, I was also able to deal with another concern – not feeling comfortable speaking for all women. Honestly, I don’t know how women at large feel, I only know how my friends and I feel. But since this list wasn’t made up by me, I see it as you getting other viewpoints as well. Then, on top of that, you ALSO get my views (after I’ve consumed a very large scotch). Everybody wins!

So what you’ll see here are some choices from Maxim magazine’s 100 Things You Need to Know About Women (I didn’t even come close to using all 100, don’t worry – most of them sucked) and some other points I found around the Internet. So let’s get to it:

Things You Need to Know About Women

*Most women will not have sex for the first time with a guy unless their legs are shaved. If your date shows up and you spot stubble, she’s trying to keep herself in line.
Redhead: That is a good sign to look out for. But if she is shaved, that doesn’t mean you’re getting lucky. A lot of women will not shave/wax other places (that you can’t see) to keep themselves in line.

*No matter how much she reassures you, if you can’t get a hard-on she assumes you’re not attracted to her.
Redhead: Yeah, that’s just flat out true. Sorry guys.

*Never trust a girl who has no girlfriends. She doesn’t get along with other women because she’s either bat-shit crazy or just plain mean.
Redhead: Yup – although it’s important to note this is different than simply having more male friends than female ones. Generally speaking, some women simply prefer less drama (and guys are less drama).

*Girls who say, “I love sports!” are lying. Girls who ask you what time the game is on, without specifying which game they’re talking about, are not.
Redhead: Good rule of thumb – girls lie about this all the time!

*“If I give you my number on Friday, Tuesday and Wednesday are your best bets to score a date. Monday is too desperate, Thursday is too late.”—Claire, 27
Redhead: No, no, no, I totally disagree. I hate these fucking games. Clearly you don’t want to creep me out and call the night of (a la Swingers), but a next day call is nice – it shows you can’t help himself. Waiting until Wednesday when we met the previous Friday? I’m won’t even remember you at that point.

*Women always want to believe what you’re saying is true.
Redhead: We WANT to believe it. We don’t actually believe it.

*Never trust the woman who gives you the best blow job you’ve ever had.
Redhead: Yeah, we had to learn somewhere. Get a woman to tell you about her first blowjob – I guarantee it wasn’t her finest moment.

*The average woman kisses 79 men before getting married.
Redhead: That’s it? Kidding.

*“Girls who buy their men lap dances and pretend to enjoy it are kidding themselves. They’re trying to keep him happy with some controlled freedom.”—Suzy, 31
Redhead: I allow strip clubs but personally draw the line at lap dances – you don’t get to touch or be touched by anyone else if you’re with me. But if you’re woman is buying them for you, be happy and don’t do anything stupid (the leash can always be tightened).

*Over the course of her life, a woman will use 10 men for every one she loves. If you lent her your car or helped her move and didn't get laid, you're one of the 10.
Redhead: Wow. Yeah.

*Unless they’re lesbians, she won’t approve of your hanging out with other girls. Even if they’re ugly. And, really, even if they’re lesbians.
Redhead: Yeah – sorry.

*If you have something to hide, she’ll find it.
Redhead: Without question. Even if we don’t want to find it, we will.

*Kiss her before two dates have gone by or you’ll be “friended.”
Redhead: If you kiss on the first date, there’s real chemistry. If you don’t get the kiss in by the end of the second date, you’re lucky to even become my friend.

*Women can't live without tension. Every once in a while she's gonna pick a fight with you for no reason. Accept this as a running, inevitable theme and your relationship will make a lot more sense.
Redhead: I actually believe this is a comfort thing. Think about it – do you fight with someone you’re not comfortable with? Exactly. Just so long as neither of you goes for the low blow during the fights, it’s all healthy.

*An online dating service’s survey found that a woman’s ideal man has brown hair and blue eyes.
Redhead: Huh. Mine would have blonde hair. But I wouldn’t kick a brunette out of bed just because of his hair color. The lesson here: every woman is different and this point doesn’t mean shit. I just left it on because I found it interesting.

*Women often cite manhandling of breasts as the biggest foreplay faux pas.
Redhead: Most men have no idea what they’re doing in bed. Pay attention – if a woman is making happy noises and not trying to distract you into moving on, you’re probably doing something right.

*“When I’m drunk, I can’t come. Not even with a vibrator.”—Lauren, 35
Redhead: While this isn’t personally true with me, the point is good: Sometimes it’s just not going to happen for the woman. Get over it.

*If they're going to do it, most wives cheat between the ages of 18 and 29.
Redhead: OK. Well, this doesn’t apply to me so I have no comment (but you have to admit some of these statistics are really interesting).

*A woman might say she just wants sex, but sleep with her for a while and she’ll change her tune. “I’ve known so many women who think they can pull this off, but they always develop feelings for the guy.” – Evie, 22
Redhead: This may be true. If you don’t want emotions to be a part of it, keep it a one night stand.

*Don’t call her “cute.” In her mind it’s the same as “not vomit-inducing.” “Sexy,” OK. “Hot,” yes. “Fucking awesome,” only if she’s at least slightly buzzed.
Redhead: Seriously, get your compliments right.

*Women want to talk dirty, but they’re afraid you won’t respect them in the morning. Reassure her that letting go in bed doesn’t make her less classy and she’ll probably go wild. Jäger helps.
Redhead: We like dirty talk just as much as you guys do. Trust me.

*A psycho jealous girl will do anything to keep her man—including anal.
Redhead: I don’t know if this point is backed up by any statistics, but it cracked me up to read it.

*“At one point or another, I’ve gone through your things looking for any evidence from past relationships. I’m talking photographs, postcards, mementos, address books, diaries. If you don’t like it, get rid of this stuff before letting me in your apartment. It’s not about trust; it’s about curiosity, and it drives us crazy till it’s been satiated.”—Caroline, 28
Redhead: I have actually NEVER done this. But every other woman I know has. FYI.

*Got a new girl coming over? Your (tidy) bathroom should include clean linen, a box of Puffs Plus, and several full rolls of TP.
Redhead: I’ll narrow this down to just make sure you have toilet paper.

*“Don’t caress our faces while we’re kissing, unless you really, really, really like us.”—Rachel, 21
Redhead: Yeah…yeah.

*On a first date, women never order what they really want to eat.
Redhead: Because believe it or not, we like the same foods you do.

*Put down the Drakkar and grab a box of Good & Plenty. Women are turned on by the scent of black licorice.
Redhead: I’m not. And some colognes definitely turn me on – just don’t wear too much guys.

*At least one of her friends wants to sleep with you.
Redhead: Um, that actually might be true. But she won’t act on it, so don’t even think about it. (It’s all about competition anyway – not you.)

*If you want more sex, tell your girl an attractive woman hit on you that day. Sixty percent of the time, it works every time.
Redhead: Again, competition does work, just don’t try this one all the time or she’ll stop trusting you.

*Any good woman will tell ya, honesty is not always the best policy.
Redhead: Seriously. If you’re telling her something that will hurt her to relieve your guilt (or whatever you may be feeling), that’s cruel. Be a man and deal with it internally.

*Girls don’t want to date doormats. So make her proud and refuse to give up bowling night with the guys.
Redhead: Don’t let us push you around, but giving in occasionally is not a bad thing.

*A good but flawed man is a fixer-upper gem, and women love nothing more than home improvements.
Redhead: Yup. We’re stupid.

*Every woman is self-conscious about her ass. Tell her you love her ass and you’ll see it more often.
Redhead: This is all about confidence, and every woman is lacking in confidence (even the ones who are generally OK with themselves). The more uninhibited you can make her, the better.

*More than half of surveyed females between 18 and 25 would prefer to be run over by a truck than be fat.
Redhead: That’s scary…and probably true. Again, your woman feeling confident is good for you.

*Chicks aren’t afraid to get kinky; you just have to have the nerve to ask.
Redhead: Yup.

*“Women appreciate a big penis, but having one doesn’t give you an excuse to suck at foreplay.”—Elena, 28
Redhead: There’s no excuse to suck at foreplay. And every woman I know thinks there is such a thing as a penis that’s too big. So can we stop talking about it?

*She likes one of your friends.
Redhead: Um…fuck. You weren’t supposed to know that.

*Rub a sheet of medium-grade sandpaper across your face. That’s your five o’clock shadow when you kiss her. Now rub that sandpaper on your inner thigh. (Mind you, we’re not suggesting you shave.)
Redhead: I don’t mind the five o’clock shadow. At all. I really don’t.

*Buying a present for your girl? She’ll hate it (and you) if she finds out you took along another woman to help pick it out.
Redhead: Yeah, just keep that to yourself.

*You'll probably never know how many guys she's slept with. The standard lie is five. Which really means about 12.
Redhead: Don’t ask the fucking question if you don’t want us to lie!

*Sometimes when we say “we’re fine” or “nothing’s wrong” we’re telling the truth.
Redhead: So let it drop. Trust me, we’ll let you know if something really is wrong or we’re not fine.

*There are no hard and fast rules for women.
Redhead: Exactly.

Wednesday, May 9, 2007


So I’m wandering around the Internet yesterday (fuck work, I say), and somehow I end up on – OK, I may have been sent there after Googling an athlete. Whatever. Anyway, after doing my obligatory athlete ogling – um, reading – I started looking around. ‘Interesting,’ I thought. ‘And is that…? Yup, they have a Dating & Love section. Do I waste more time and check it out? That’d be a yes.’ (Seriously, what were the odds I wasn’t going to bite?)

I quickly learned that Dating & Love is made up of many different subsets. And one subset instantly got my attention: the Single Guy’s Opinion. ‘Hells yeah,’ I thought. I’m game.

Clicking into the archives, I started reading the titles for previous articles – highlights include: Men Should Lead, Women Should Follow; 6 Ways to Tell Your Girl to Lose Some Weight; 6 Signs She’s Been Around; Break Them Up; Do Women Belong in the Kitchen; and (my personal favorite) Training Your Girlfriend.

Some gems from the Training Your Girlfriend article:

*A girlfriend can make a best friend and ideal companion, but like any bitch (female dog, that is), she needs to be taught how to act around the house. So you have to set the ground rules early by enrolling her in your own private obedience school.

*Common Obedience Problems (Redhead note: I’ve only included what I consider the best of the article here):
-Not fetching
An improperly trained girlfriend doesn't know that she should always bring you a beer without having to be asked.
Like a dog, she is hard to train. No matter what you want, she always insists on getting her own way, then throws a tantrum or cuts off sex if you oppose her. She's always escaping from the yard to go shopping. And she won't respect your commands ("roll over," "lie down," "play dead").
Girlfriends are naturally attracted to bright, shiny objects (like jewelry) and fast-moving luxury cars. An untrained girlfriend will abandon you and run after any male who happens by with a few baubles and a Porsche.

*Training Your Girlfriend (Redhead note: Again, I narrowed it down to the very best advice given in the training section of the article):
-Don't be afraid to say "no"
As many would believe, girlfriends aren't usually as bright as men, so they typically have to be told more than once. And spank her if she continues to misbehave. If she likes it, spank her a lot.

If you want to read the whole thing, feel free to go here.

Now generally I’d comment on all of this, but I’m going to hold onto my sense of humor here and let it go. Why? Because I refuse to believe this was meant to be serious (please God). What I will comment on is another article I came across. This one has the potential to be sincere, so I figured I’d give my 2 cents. Some are actually good points. Some pissed me off on a level I can’t begin to put into words.

So without further ado, Redhead’s responses to’s The 15 Commandments of Dating:

*Thou shalt not say "I love you"
When it comes down to it, this is your real ace in the hole. There is virtually no jam that these three words cannot get you out of if used correctly. Plus, don't be the first to say it unless it's absolutely necessary, this way you can save the phrase until the time is right.
Redhead: If you’re using those words out of anything other than sincerity, you’re a dick. And trust me, it will come back to haunt you.

*Thou shalt not pay for everything
Let her treat every once in a while (she should volunteer to), save a few bucks, and then you can do something special. But keep in mind that it is customary to pay if you were the one who asked her out.
Redhead: Legitimate advice. I agree wholeheartedly.

*Thou shalt leave the past behind
Don't spend too much time talking about ex-girlfriends. And, if you decide to take her back to your place, make sure to get rid of any incriminating evidence. For example, don't just throw out those Polaroids you took; burn them and feed the ashes to your neighbor's dog.
Redhead: Oh yeah. That’s a rule that applies to women too.

*Thou shalt keep relationship George and independent George separate
If Seinfeld taught us anything, it’s that bad things happen when social worlds collide. You don’t want to ruin any of your current relationships by trying to intermingle the two; it can’t lead to anything good.
Redhead: If you ever find yourself taking relationship advice from Seinfeld, take a moment and rethink your life.

*Thou shalt wear the pants in the relationship
Don't lose the control that you struggled so hard to achieve. Come out of the gate strong and stay that way. Once you let her have the reigns, believe you me, it's all downhill...
Redhead: Fuck you. The woman always wears the pants in the relationship, whether men realize it or not. But if men want to delude themselves, but all means go ahead.

*Thou shalt watch her eating habits
Keep an eye on her portions when eating out and turn away the dessert cart when she goes to the bathroom. If you can keep her from gaining those unwanted pounds, then you won't have to buy her a treadmill for her birthday.
Redhead: I think my head just exploded.

*Thou shalt seek sex at every possible opportunity
"They" say that we think about it every six seconds. So if it's always on our minds, we might as well act on it. Plus, if you get her used to it early on in the relationship, then she might not complain about your insatiable appetite later.
Redhead: I don’t actually have a problem with this one. But a tip to all men out there: Sex is fun – women know this. If she keeps saying no, it may be a sign that you’re not any good at it.

*Thou shalt sign a prenuptial agreement
Get financial and other issues out of the way before you tie the knot and set your mind at ease beforehand. So if she decides to get wild with the postman, you don’t have to worry.
Redhead: This is a different issue for every woman, and circumstances are in play here. Having said that, good luck asking for one (and be prepared for a bad reaction – you’re not showing a lot of faith in the relationship when you throw it out there).

*Thou shalt not treat her like your mother
Don't get the women in your life confused. Your mom made you breakfast and washed your unmentionables. Your woman is there for emotional support and sweet lovemaking.
Redhead: Thank you! Excellent advice. If more men knew this, relationships would go a lot easier.

*Thou shalt not ditch your friends
Your buddies were around before she came into your life and you wouldn't be too happy if they deserted you for a skirt. Plus, who is going to take you to the strip club to cheer you up if she breaks your heart?
Redhead: True enough.

*Thou shalt not change who you are
If she wasn't happy with who you were when you met, then she should have split then. Plus, no matter how much of a pig you are, there's always someone who will be into you.
Redhead: That’s not necessarily true, but I appreciate the sentiment. Still, let me quote a book I’m reading right now: “I’ve heard men are like fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it’s up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.” Yup.

*Thou shalt not try to change her
Same applies to you. If there are things about her that you know will get on your nerves in a short while, get rid of her and find someone you can be happy with.
Redhead: This is…true.

*Thou shalt not flirt with other women in front of her
As a general rule of thumb, before you flirt with another woman, make sure you are in another area code. And, if you do talk about other women, make sure they "don't compare to you, honey." There are some lies women simply thrive on.
Redhead: Great. Glad those are lies. But be aware that your woman will then flirt with other men to get back at you – and she’s probably going to be the one to have more success. So happy flirting.

*Thou shalt not speak of money
She doesn't need to know what your pay stub looks like until you are good and ready. Keeping your finances under wraps will help you figure out if she's a gold digger. This way you'll figure out if she actually likes you.
Redhead: Yeah, whatever. I understand what’s being said here, but sometimes we just want some basic information – it’s not necessarily a deal breaker, but it’s nice to know what we’re getting ourselves into. And now go ahead and call us shallow; see if we care

*Thou shalt not kiss too much butt
Stay strong but let her know you love her in subtle ways. Compliment her every once in a while and make the occasional compromise, but don't turn into a sniveling worm. Keep your priorities balanced and all will be well.
Redhead: You don’t want to be pussy whipped – she’ll never respect you if you are – but at least one compliment a day is NOT too much. In fact, it’s a good rule of thumb to throw something nice at her every single day. Trust me, she won’t be complaining.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Weekend Thoughts

I’m coming off an unexpectedly long weekend, and – as usual – I’ve had some thoughts along the way:

-Allergies suck: I did the Revlon Run/Walk for Cancer on Saturday morning – which I do every year – and every fucking year I’m down for the count afterwards. Why? Because it always takes place in the spring, and it always goes through Central Park (a place I avoid in the spring). The reason: I get allergies in the spring. By the end of the 3 mile walk my eyes are always swollen and itchy, I’m congested, and I pretty much feel like I’m dying (or just want to). But since I had a full weekend planned, I toughed it out. Then, when I woke up on Monday – still swollen and stuffed up – I decided to give up. I called in sick to work, took drugs (strong ones) and knocked myself out for the rest of the day. (I’m told it was gorgeous out by the way.) Now that I’m feeling (relatively) human again, I'm just concentrating on praying for spring to end. Which is ridiculous – I used to love spring; it was the happiest season. Now it just makes me look all puffy – like it’s quite literally kicking my ass – and I just want it to be over. So sad.

-Went to the Yankees game on Saturday: Wang was awesome, the beer was flowing and great (it’s always better at the ballpark), and my sister was hysterical – so fun to drink/watch sports with. Yet I wish I had gone to the Sunday game instead – fucking Roger Clemens. Do I think he’s going to save us? No way – he wasn’t always great against Boston, he’s been pitching in the National League for the past couple of years, and he’s going to get injured (I can just feel it). But I’m still psyched. Why? Because our getting him pisses everyone else off. I say bring on more $9 beers at Yankees Stadium!

-Viva Cinco de Mayo!: For a person who generally doesn’t like sweet drinks – I usually stick to scotch and the occasional dirty martini – I absolutely love margaritas. Maybe it’s because they remind me of vacations, maybe it’s because they always get me plastered, or maybe it’s just because they taste so damn good, but there is nothing more fun than going out with good people and drinking a few margaritas. And what better excuse is there to do that than Cinco de Mayo? Hope everyone had as much fun as I did.

-No accidents: I did not break my sister’s car during my stick shift lesson (shockingly). I did grind some gears, I still can’t get the car into first while on a hill, and apparently I can’t remember to use turn signals while focusing on shifting. But no accidents took place, my sister was remarkably patient, and thankfully the whole horror of the lesson took less than an hour. That’s about how long it took for her to turn to me (the smell of burning tires again permeating the air in my parents’ neighborhood), and say, “What the fuck was I thinking?” Hence, the lesson ended early.

-Quick music roundup: The top ten songs I’ve been listening to on my iPod this past week are – Cocaine, Eric Clapton; Devil’s Dance, Metallica; Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana; Make Me Bad, Korn; She Hates Me, Puddle of Mudd; Wrong Way, Sublime; Sweet Child O’ Mine, Guns N’ Roses; Three Is a Magic Number, Blind Melon; Fat Bottomed Girls, Queen; Smoke on the Water, Deep Purple.

-Is this wrong?: There was a guy I mentioned a while ago – the one I had just started dating when we ran into my psycho neighbor – who, I’ve realized, I haven’t mentioned since. And he never actually disappeared (like I was sure he would). Yes, amazingly I didn’t scare him away. In fact, we’re sort of been dating. Only it’s been so casual that I didn’t feel the need to talk about him to you guys. But now, I’d say in the past two weeks, things have been heating up between us. So I’m mentioning him again. And already, I have a problem.

Remember Nate (DC guy)? Well, we’ve been keeping in touch, too. In fact, he’s kind of my phone pal at this point. And I’m going to visit him (and Hannah) in a couple of weeks. I promised. Only it’s now occurred to me that NY guy might not like this. I mean, we’re not committed or anything (I don’t think), but I'm still pretty sure he wouldn't approve if he knew. Let’s just say the nature of my conversations with DC guy aren’t exactly platonic. But I’m not ready to give up on either one of them – NY guy or DC guy – at the moment. So, I’m thinking I’ll just not mention anything to NY guy – and we’ll see what happens. Good plan, right? Because it’s not cheating at this point in the relationship anyway. Right? And nothing bad could possibly come of this. Right? Fuck. I'm so screwed.

OK. Glad to be back among the living again. Happy Tuesday.

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Driving Along In My Automobile

“Can I borrow your towel? My car just hit a water buffalo.”

Love that quote. OK, let’s talk about driving (how's that for a segue way?):

Um, I’m not good at it.

OK, that pretty much sums it up. Thanks for your time! But seriously, I’m a very, very, very, very, very bad driver. I mean, I’m the sort of driver who returns home after running to the store and announces, ‘I didn’t get in an accident!’ And I’m congratulated.

Now maybe you’re thinking, ‘Redhead’s exaggerating.’ But you’d be wrong. I’m not. I’m really not. Perhaps some stories will help explain the situation. Hmmm, where to begin…

Well, there was the first time I rear-ended someone – because I didn’t notice the red light they were stopped at until it was too late. Or the second time I rear-ended someone – because I didn’t notice the red light they were stopped at until it was too late (although at least the weather was bad that time). Or the time I drove my mom’s SUV through a fence outside the video store – it appears I had the car in drive instead of reverse while pulling out of the parking spot. Oops.

Hell, I ran a red light – didn’t notice it – on my way to my driving test when I was 16! (Passed the test with flying colors by the way.) And the tree right next to the driveway at my parents’ house? I can’t even count the number of times I’ve swiped it.

Shockingly though, it was my college boyfriend who totaled the car that got me though most of my driving years – a cute little red car I had named Monty. The fact that I wasn’t the one to kill Monty was a relief (and probably shocked the shit out of the car – you know, if Monty could think). He was a good car. He was my first car. He was my last car too – my dad refused to get me another one after that (smart man), and I sure as shit was not going to spend my money on one (smart Redhead).

In other words, it’s not an accident (no pun intended) that I now live in a city that relies on public transportation. As a (relatively) bright and responsible person, I recognized long ago that I can't drive, and so I avoid doing it. I don’t lie to myself and say I’ve just had bad luck. I admit my faults and move on.

And my main fault would be (driving wise) that I don’t seem to be very observant. I tend to miss things like stop signs, red lights, exits, posted speed limit signs, other cars, and cops. (Probably the craziest thing of all is that I have a perfect driving record. I have been able to cry/coerce my way out of every prospective ticket/accident report that’s come my way. How scary is that?)

The number of potential accidents/close calls that I’ve narrowly avoided over the years are too numerous to count. Of the ones that actually did happen, you guys only got some highlights. Let’s just say I don’t handle getting lost very well – my already poor driving skills deteriorate when I’m stressed/trying to find my way somewhere – and leave it at that.

But again, I recognize my shortcomings and practically never drive. And when I do, it’s normally only for short distances in my mom’s large SUV. I feel safer in it (not so sure about the rest of the world, but hey, what can you do?).

So what’s the point of this post? Well, my sister’s coming up to see my parents this weekend, and she’s bringing her car – we’re all going to celebrate an early Mother’s Day. And her car is a stick. I can’t drive a stick (I can’t drive an automatic all that well either, but at least an automatic never makes that horrible sound when the gears are grinding – and the smell when the tires are burning…what?).

Anyway, my sister has informed me that she is willing to give me another stick-shift lesson (the last one was years ago on an older car of hers – and it didn’t go well). On her nice, new, BMW convertible. And I’m nervous. Because I tend to do bad things behind the wheel. And my sister seems to have temporarily gone insane and forgotten this fact.

I mean, fuck – this is how families are torn apart.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Let’s Talk About Breasts

Fuck it. I need to talk about breasts, and somehow I don’t think any of my readers are going to mind. So here goes:

Alright, let’s get this out of the way – men like breasts. And I have a particularly noticeable pair. So what? I appreciate the compliments, but I’m over them. After all, I (at least) am fully aware that I had nothing to do with them. So I ignore the stares, and I live my life.

In all honesty, my breasts annoy me most of the time – they make wearing certain clothes impossible (if I don’t want to look like a whore – which, surprisingly, I don’t). And if anything I try to play them down and joke about them with my friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m not cool with men’s reactions to them – the majority of the time. Hell, I’ve benefited from those reactions since puberty. Still, there’s a fine line between appreciating a woman’s breasts and just pissing her off. And I have a guy at work who is starting to piss me off.

(Note: It’s occurred to me that I’m starting to sound like I have HUGE breasts, and I don’t. Let’s just say they’re bigger than what most women with my build have and leave it at that. (And fuck that was uncomfortable to write.) OK, back to the point of the post.)

This whole topic actually came up a couple of weeks ago on onthevirg’s blog. He had posed the question ‘do women mind if they catch a man staring at her chest?’ I told him no, women don’t normally mind. In fact, adult women are generally so used to men glancing down at our chests (sometimes repeatedly) that we barely even notice. It’s kind of expected. Still, when glancing turns to staring – blatant staring. For prolonged periods of time. Problems can arise. And I now have a guy – a new executive at work actually – who’s been crossing the line. Staring. In a creepy way. At one particular part of me. Hint: Not my face.

Now like I said, I normally have a pretty good sense of humor about my breasts. My (platonic) friend John has a marked obsession with them, and he doesn’t feel the need to hide it. And I don’t take offense to it – I just continually remind him he’s never going to see them. Hell, I’ve even had friends of my exes who (after a few drinks) have commented. And it’s fine. I just don’t care. Good natured appreciation is fine – I’m not blind. I know how the world works.

But, I expect a little amount of respect. (Seriously, I’m talking miniscule here.) I’m an intelligent woman who generally doesn’t wear clothes that flaunt my chest (no need really), and I’m always covered up at work. So while I’m fine with the occasional glance, the outright ogling I’m getting from this new office guy is making me uncomfortable. (That’s code for pissed.) Whenever I walk by his office he actually stops what he’s doing and stares. Whenever he walks by my desk (which he shouldn’t have to do as often as he does), he stares – and almost trips. And let’s just say his eyes aren’t trained on my face. In fact I’d be surprised if he actually knew what my face looked like.

So what can I do about it? As of right now, I’m thinking nothing. Besides annoying the shit out of me, he’s technically not crossing any lines. And while my pissed off looks don’t seem to be working, I’m going to keep shooting them his way. Maybe if he raises his eyes anytime soon, he’ll notice. And until then, I’ll bitch to you guys. So thanks. I don’t actually feel any better about the situation. But thanks.