Yeah, so I’ve decided to blog the Yanks-Sox game tonight. What’s that you say? Totally unoriginal idea and you don’t care what I think – well fuck you. I want to do this and now ya’ll will essentially get the experience of watching a game with me (except without all the drinking – I’ll be drinking though, so don’t you worry about that). For those of you who don’t like sports…bite me.
7:02: Fucking Michael Kay – this dude makes my head hurt. And what the fuck is Girardi wearing? I’m going to need something to watch during commercials…hmmm, is Pride and Prejudice too weird a mix with baseball? Probably – ah well, the Keira Knightley version sucks anyway.
7:06: Tonight’s scotch – Laphroaig. Good stuff.
7:07: Are baseball pictures like driver’s license photos? Do these guys not get a do-over (how do you spell that?), because most of the photos are really, really bad.
7:09: Jesus Giambi, nice play (and that’s not something I say…ever)!
7:13: Pedroia just got caught stealing – greedy bastard.
7:20: Derek Jeter with a double – fuck that’s hot.
7:25: A-Rod’s pants are just tight enough to distract me (shut up everyone). Wait, there’s baseball being played? A-Rod must have been distracted too since he just struck out looking. Loser.
7:28: Aw, the announcer’s just said that it seems like Mike Mussina is dealing with a little bit of self-doubt. I wonder why? Oh that’s right – it’s because he SUCKS!
7:29: Lowell just hit a long out, and Singleton says, “That would have been an RBI in Boston.” Um…no, it wouldn’t. Now I’m no rocket scientist, but even I realize that while that certainly would have been a hit in Boston, it wasn’t high enough to be a homerun. And there was no one on base. Sooo, what am I missing here?
7:36: Somehow Clemens walks two guys and gets out of it unscathed. Lucky bastard.
7:40: Paul McCartney and Lorne Michaels are in the crowd; Michael Kay just felt the need to share with us how he wants to host Saturday Night Live. Worst…idea…ever.
7:47: I have to say this – ever since the 2003 World Series, I want nothing but bad things to happen to Beckett.
7:49: RBI for Melky! I fucking LOVE him! That, my friends, is a #9 hitter.
7:52: I think Varitek and Beckett are in love – they’ve talked more during the first two innings of this game than I’ve spoken to most boyfriends.
7:54: Two-run single for Damon! Suck THAT Beckett!
7:57: Someone’s rattled – E1 (that’s an error for the pitcher – Beckett – for the non-sports fans out there). Ah shit, I’m going to have to slow down with these comments or this is going to turn into the longest post ever. Cool, more drinking time for me!
8:12: WHAT WAS A-ROD DOING?!?! Talk about getting greedy, he took a HUGE turn at first and didn’t make it back before the throw. FUCK!!!!!!!!!
8:25: Just spent the last 10 minutes on the phone with my mom – she’s freaking hysterical. My parents just got back from a cocktail thing, and let’s just say that when my mother gets a few drinks in her she tends to get…lovey. A direct quote: “No one is as lucky as I am, because I have you.” My response: “How much have you had to drink?” Damn she’s adorable. As for the game – go Hideki Matsui and that fucking awesome triple!
8:38: They’re still talking about the same damn squirrel from last night (they had a camera on it for the LONGEST TIME during the game yesterday). Apparently it’s back. Now yes, if I was a squirrel I too would want to live at Yankee Stadium, but still…
8:52: Ooh, look at all the celebrities. I wonder why they’re all here at a Yanks-Sox game. Posers.
9:00: Fuckin’ Ortiz!!!! He just hit a goddamn homerun. Well, at least now I can talk a little more about Clemens (I wasn’t saying a damn word about him when he had a no-hitter going).
9:04: I can’t help it – I LOVE it when they replay that Aaron Boone homerun. As for Clemens: 5 walks in 6 innings. To use a baseball announcer term, he seems to be ‘effectively wild’ tonight.
9:15: Here’s the problem – we’re getting hits, we’re just not getting them when anyone’s on fucking base! Shit, I’m starting to get agitated. I need more scotch…that’s better.
9:27: Bases fucking loaded and we do…NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hate everyone.
9:36: Kay just said that people are actually calling into radio shows and asking why Joba can’t pitch every day? Really? Who the fuck are these people? Have they learned nothing from the Torre era? Yes, let’s overuse him and blow out his arm even faster than Torre would otherwise. Fucking morons.
9:48: A-Rod just hit an A-Bomb! That was my John Sterling impression. Fuck. Yeah. Beckett’s now leaving the game like the loser he is. OK Alex baby, everything is forgiven.
10:03: Ah shit, Farnsworth is in the game. This could get ugly…fast.
10:08: Yup, I called that one – 2 run homer for Youkilis (and his ugly, nasty face…um, I mean facial hair – yeah, that’s what I meant).
10:16: Mo’s in – I feel better. I do. Really, I do. (How many times do I have to say that before I believe it? Shit, I feel like I have post-traumatic stress disorder from the 2004 ALCS.)
10:27: Um…this game may never end.
10:34: FUCK YEAH! Mo almost killed Andy Phillips on the last out of the game, and it was AWESOME. Yanks 4, Sox 3. That’s it guys, I’m done.
Oh, I also want to give a special shout-out to Cheese; he is a rockstar who – as a favor to me (without even meeting me and checking out my rack!) – took a look at my resume and gave me some really good advice. He also kept me company on email while I was watching the above game, so he’s my new favorite person. For some reason he doesn’t have his own blog (what, does he have a life or something?), but he apparently hangs out at his roommate’s page (you can find it here). Now what have the rest of you done for me lately, huh?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
I’m a Spaz
Well…still fired/laid off. Still not terribly upset about it (that has to mean something by the way). And people are still being super nice to me – something that alternately freaks me out and gives me the warm fuzzies. My sister did call last night to ask me what the hell is wrong with my baseball team (bitch), so I’m not totally living in an alternate universe yet.
Some other stuff:
I’m no Tiger Woods: Christine and another friend took me out to a driving range on Friday night to drink beer and hit golf balls. Turns out, driving ranges aren’t anything like miniature golf – which, by the way, I’m AWESOME at – and I missed more balls than I hit. (Note: I’d never been to a driving range before, but it appears that between a few beers, zero experience, and a REALLY SMALL ball, I’m a fucking spaz.) Anyway, hitting golf balls was SUPPOSED to help me get out my frustrations in an acceptable manner. Instead it just pissed me off – I get the feeling the language I was using was not acceptable or typical for the driving range crowd. Who knew that calling the ball a little cocksucker was going to freak so many people out? Still…oops.
Christine cracks me up: I was kind of burned out on my friends by Saturday, so I chose to just ignore all phone calls as of Saturday morning (I needed ‘me time’). Apparently when you’ve just lost your job, people kind of freak out when you drop off the face of the earth and don’t return calls for 24 hours (even though I do that kind of shit all the time). Anyway, between Saturday morning and Sunday night, Christine called 5 times. 5 fucking times! I called her back 0 times. Bad Redhead! When we finally spoke, this is how it went down:
Christine: Dude, I was really scared.
Redhead: (Pausing with a Swedish fish halfway to my mouth – mmm, Swedish fish) Why were you scared? I never call you back until you start threatening me.
Christine: But you just got fired!
Redhead: Laid off. And so?
Christine: So I was panicking and thinking all sorts of bad things.
Redhead: (Contemplating how scotch would taste with Swedish fish) Are you serious? How long have you known me? I’m not depressed. I’m not even sad.
Christine: Well…you never know.
Redhead: (Snorting) Oh for fuck’s sake! Let’s look at this logically – who would take care of my cat if something happened to me? She hates everyone. I couldn’t leave her all alone – what kind of mommy do you think I am?
Christine: (Stunned silence, then…) You’re a freak.
Redhead: No shit. (Hmmm, scotch and Swedish fish – fucking gross together) So, what did you end up doing on Saturday?
Christine: Finally got laid.
Redhead: (Now THAT depressed me) Yup, sounds like you were super worried about me.
Dating ban has been lifted: Look, I’m all for being single right now, but I need to eat. So, that whole ‘I’m staying away from men’ kick that I was on has been postponed until further notice. I’m going to need to become a kept woman for a while here, so…don’t judge me. I need someone to a) pay for me (I’m expensive), and b) put a smile on my face (if you know what I mean – wink, wink). Now all I have to do is find someone I can tolerate. Shit, as if looking for a job wasn’t enough.
Anyway…what have you guys been up to? Any dirty stories for me?
Some other stuff:
I’m no Tiger Woods: Christine and another friend took me out to a driving range on Friday night to drink beer and hit golf balls. Turns out, driving ranges aren’t anything like miniature golf – which, by the way, I’m AWESOME at – and I missed more balls than I hit. (Note: I’d never been to a driving range before, but it appears that between a few beers, zero experience, and a REALLY SMALL ball, I’m a fucking spaz.) Anyway, hitting golf balls was SUPPOSED to help me get out my frustrations in an acceptable manner. Instead it just pissed me off – I get the feeling the language I was using was not acceptable or typical for the driving range crowd. Who knew that calling the ball a little cocksucker was going to freak so many people out? Still…oops.
Christine cracks me up: I was kind of burned out on my friends by Saturday, so I chose to just ignore all phone calls as of Saturday morning (I needed ‘me time’). Apparently when you’ve just lost your job, people kind of freak out when you drop off the face of the earth and don’t return calls for 24 hours (even though I do that kind of shit all the time). Anyway, between Saturday morning and Sunday night, Christine called 5 times. 5 fucking times! I called her back 0 times. Bad Redhead! When we finally spoke, this is how it went down:
Christine: Dude, I was really scared.
Redhead: (Pausing with a Swedish fish halfway to my mouth – mmm, Swedish fish) Why were you scared? I never call you back until you start threatening me.
Christine: But you just got fired!
Redhead: Laid off. And so?
Christine: So I was panicking and thinking all sorts of bad things.
Redhead: (Contemplating how scotch would taste with Swedish fish) Are you serious? How long have you known me? I’m not depressed. I’m not even sad.
Christine: Well…you never know.
Redhead: (Snorting) Oh for fuck’s sake! Let’s look at this logically – who would take care of my cat if something happened to me? She hates everyone. I couldn’t leave her all alone – what kind of mommy do you think I am?
Christine: (Stunned silence, then…) You’re a freak.
Redhead: No shit. (Hmmm, scotch and Swedish fish – fucking gross together) So, what did you end up doing on Saturday?
Christine: Finally got laid.
Redhead: (Now THAT depressed me) Yup, sounds like you were super worried about me.
Dating ban has been lifted: Look, I’m all for being single right now, but I need to eat. So, that whole ‘I’m staying away from men’ kick that I was on has been postponed until further notice. I’m going to need to become a kept woman for a while here, so…don’t judge me. I need someone to a) pay for me (I’m expensive), and b) put a smile on my face (if you know what I mean – wink, wink). Now all I have to do is find someone I can tolerate. Shit, as if looking for a job wasn’t enough.
Anyway…what have you guys been up to? Any dirty stories for me?
Friday, August 24, 2007
That's Life
Huh...
So I kind of disappeared early yesterday - not sure if you guys noticed. The reason: I got FUCKING FIRED!!!!
Yup, if was a good day in Redhead land. Essentially it was part of a kind of mass layoff at work - at some point my company realized that it would be easier to employ lots of freelancers (no health benefits) rather than employ pesky full time staff, and they've been "trimming the fat" ever since. After dodging that particular axe for about a year, my time finally came.
It was...eh. I didn't cry (still haven't), I didn't get upset, I was just...numb. It was what it was. That's life, life isn't fair, blah, blah, blah. And you know, everyone was really nice about it. My boss was upset, swore up and down that my performance was never an issue - my position had just been 'eliminated' - and she promised me oodles of recommendations. HR was also really nice as THEY promised me recommendations. In fact, as firings go (and this was my first time on the receiving end of one), it really wasn't that bad. Really the worst part was thinking about what's now ahead for me - sending out resumes (tk will be happy to know I'm very good at proofreading mine), following up with phone calls, going on interviews, worrying about when my severance is going to run out, etc. In a nutshell - job hunting SUCKS.
But whatever, enough negativity - it's not like anyone died after all. Plus, one guess what I did last night.
That's right genius readers, I drank. Christine, Linda, and some other people took me out to get drunk. And...I...got...drunk. (Wasn't like I had to worry about being late for work today.) Don't remember much of the night (sorry guys), but you'll be happy to know that everyone was very sympathetic and nice to me. Hell, at some point during the night I had a bartender spontaneously hug me when Linda told him what happened. Now, you guys know how I feel about hugs, right? Yeah...exactly. But it was still a nice thought.
THEN, that same bartender took it upon himself to go over to the dj booth and (I'm assuming) share my story with still more people. Why do I think he shared my story? Well, about 2 minutes after he went to the dj booth I got a shout-out from the dj himself. That's right, everyone at the bar got to hear about my day before all joining together to sing along to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing' - dedicated to Redhead of course.
Now I'm hung over, looking for a job, and kind of wondering what I want to eat. Hmmm...is it too early for Chinese food?
So I kind of disappeared early yesterday - not sure if you guys noticed. The reason: I got FUCKING FIRED!!!!
Yup, if was a good day in Redhead land. Essentially it was part of a kind of mass layoff at work - at some point my company realized that it would be easier to employ lots of freelancers (no health benefits) rather than employ pesky full time staff, and they've been "trimming the fat" ever since. After dodging that particular axe for about a year, my time finally came.
It was...eh. I didn't cry (still haven't), I didn't get upset, I was just...numb. It was what it was. That's life, life isn't fair, blah, blah, blah. And you know, everyone was really nice about it. My boss was upset, swore up and down that my performance was never an issue - my position had just been 'eliminated' - and she promised me oodles of recommendations. HR was also really nice as THEY promised me recommendations. In fact, as firings go (and this was my first time on the receiving end of one), it really wasn't that bad. Really the worst part was thinking about what's now ahead for me - sending out resumes (tk will be happy to know I'm very good at proofreading mine), following up with phone calls, going on interviews, worrying about when my severance is going to run out, etc. In a nutshell - job hunting SUCKS.
But whatever, enough negativity - it's not like anyone died after all. Plus, one guess what I did last night.
That's right genius readers, I drank. Christine, Linda, and some other people took me out to get drunk. And...I...got...drunk. (Wasn't like I had to worry about being late for work today.) Don't remember much of the night (sorry guys), but you'll be happy to know that everyone was very sympathetic and nice to me. Hell, at some point during the night I had a bartender spontaneously hug me when Linda told him what happened. Now, you guys know how I feel about hugs, right? Yeah...exactly. But it was still a nice thought.
THEN, that same bartender took it upon himself to go over to the dj booth and (I'm assuming) share my story with still more people. Why do I think he shared my story? Well, about 2 minutes after he went to the dj booth I got a shout-out from the dj himself. That's right, everyone at the bar got to hear about my day before all joining together to sing along to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing' - dedicated to Redhead of course.
Now I'm hung over, looking for a job, and kind of wondering what I want to eat. Hmmm...is it too early for Chinese food?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Warning: Explicit
A note before I begin: This post is going to get explicit, hence the title. I can only imagine what Google searches will be coming my way thanks to this one, but what can I say – I had to share (it’s my curse).
Another note: Everything you will read below can literally be found at your local Barnes and Noble, so don’t even think about calling me dirty.
OK, so I’m not sure how many of you know this, but I like romance novels (shut up). Yes, on top of all the fine literature I read, I like a fair bit of trash thrown in for a rainy day. And trust me, there is some good trash out there. But lately I’ve noticed that some of this stuff has gotten a bit…graphic. Like ‘holy shit are you kidding me?’ graphic. And the one I just read – it’s a doozy. And no, it’s not marketed as porn. I believe the wording on the front of the book was "an erotic thriller.”
Let’s be clear: I didn’t even read that wording when I picked out the book. I also never read a synopsis of the book before picking it out. I literally chose it based purely on the title – it cracked me up, just cheesy/creepy enough to catch my attention. Seriously – I was online at barnesandnoble.com, and I was getting a few books for fun. I realized when I went to check out that I needed one more book to qualify for free shipping, and this is the one I ended up choosing. The end. I HONESTLY had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into. Having said that, I will definitely be getting more books by this author (this shit is too good to pass up). Whew, is it getting hot in here?
Anyway yeah, the book, Forbidden Pleasure, made me blush. Me…blush. Why, you ask? How bad can it be, you wonder? Well, guys…the book…it’s…it’s just…it’s just dirty guys. There’s no other way to say it. BUT, (weirdly) it did make me think of you. Why? Well, for some reason I’ve noticed that more than a few blogs have been talking about threesomes recently, and that’s pretty much all this book is about (oh, and a stalker – the “thriller” aspect). It seemed like some sort of sign that I should write about it.
So I’ve decided to give you guys a book report - Redhead style. With the dirty minds I know are out there, you need to know what kind of literature is available to you. And that’s my service dear readers – I’m making you aware. Educating you if you will. No, no need to thank me, it’s my pleasure. Anyway, on with the show:
(Oh, and if you guys end up liking this, we can discuss making my book reports a regular feature on the blog. But it would need to have a cool name, like…nope, I don’t do creative. You guys offer suggestions if you want.)
Book Title: Forbidden Pleasure
Redhead’s comments: No, that’s not a joke – that IS the title of the book.
Author: Lora Leigh
Redhead’s comments: She does not skimp on the dirty talk/graphic sex. Naturally, I’m now a huge fan.
Synopsis (from the publisher): People have heard fleeting rumors about The Club located just outside of Washington, D.C. Only its members know where men go when they want to indulge their desire to share their women with a carefully selected male partner.
John "Mac" McCoy resigned his membership from The Club when he married Keiley Hardin. Tempting and innocent, sweet and sexy, Mac knows that she would never accept his desire to share her with another man. However, Mac's fantasies of sharing his wife haunt his dreams. Then Jethro Riggs, Mac's best friend, arrives at her their home in Wyoming. Of all the men, it was Riggs whom Mac shared his women with. They shared the same views on pleasing women and a hunger to push the same boundaries. Slowly Mac and Riggs introduce Keiley to a pleasure she has never known.
Redhead’s comments: *Giggling* OK, so that sort of covers it. Mac marries this innocent little thing named Keiley, he gives up “ménages” and moves away from D.C. – where he was an FBI agent. His old partner (in many ways) Jethro, stays behind. Slowly Mac grows restless, wants to share his wife (who wouldn’t?), and he calls Jethro to come “join them” without asking his wife’s permission first (because why would he?). Jethro comes, much naughtiness ensues, the end. Oh and yes, there is a stalker thrown into the mix – very, very, very secondary in the book. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly nervous for any of these characters.
(Sidenote: How do you pronounce her name? Is it Keeley or Kiley? This question distracted me WAY too much while reading.)
Sex Scenes: Too numerous to count – no, I’m not exaggerating. There were a couple with just Mac and Keiley, a couple with just Jethro and Keiley, and MANY with the three of them. If you can imagine them doing it, they did it. You think some things are too dirty and out there to put in a book – you’re wrong. It’s in there, trust me. Still don’t believe me? OK, let’s give you an excerpt from the book – this is pretty much the tamest thing you’ll find in there (again, I’m not exaggerating).
Excerpt:
He tasted like the night. His cock felt like silk-encased iron, his balls drawn tight beneath it. And Keiley used every trick Mac had taught her to erode his control while Mac’s hands eased over her quivering body.
The fingers of one hand gripped the straining shaft, while she calmed his balls in the palm of her other, her fingers working over the straining flesh of each portion of his body. She licked beneath the head, then sucked him deep as she worked her tongue along the straining flesh. Blood was pumping, throbbing beneath the skin, making it steel-hard, sensitive.
“She has you.” Mac’s chuckle was rough. “Once that hot little mouth gets hold of you, you’re a goner.”
Jethro’s hands were in her hair, tightening, tugging.
“Spank her. Let me watch her ass blush.”
Keiley moaned. A second later she cried out around the hard flesh filling her mouth as Mac’s hand landed on her rear.
A second later, it rose between her thighs, a light little tap to her pussy exploding through her senses. Another to her rear. Back between her thighs. Jethro’s hands were tugging at her hair, and Keiley was fighting to keep the pressure on his cock as too many sensations began to invade her body.
She was so wet that the soft slaps to her pussy only heated her further, made her want more. Need more.
“I want her waxed.” Jethro was panting. “Soon, Mac. I want that pussy waxed.”
----
OK, that’s it for me. Happy Wednesday everybody!
Another note: Everything you will read below can literally be found at your local Barnes and Noble, so don’t even think about calling me dirty.
OK, so I’m not sure how many of you know this, but I like romance novels (shut up). Yes, on top of all the fine literature I read, I like a fair bit of trash thrown in for a rainy day. And trust me, there is some good trash out there. But lately I’ve noticed that some of this stuff has gotten a bit…graphic. Like ‘holy shit are you kidding me?’ graphic. And the one I just read – it’s a doozy. And no, it’s not marketed as porn. I believe the wording on the front of the book was "an erotic thriller.”
Let’s be clear: I didn’t even read that wording when I picked out the book. I also never read a synopsis of the book before picking it out. I literally chose it based purely on the title – it cracked me up, just cheesy/creepy enough to catch my attention. Seriously – I was online at barnesandnoble.com, and I was getting a few books for fun. I realized when I went to check out that I needed one more book to qualify for free shipping, and this is the one I ended up choosing. The end. I HONESTLY had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into. Having said that, I will definitely be getting more books by this author (this shit is too good to pass up). Whew, is it getting hot in here?
Anyway yeah, the book, Forbidden Pleasure, made me blush. Me…blush. Why, you ask? How bad can it be, you wonder? Well, guys…the book…it’s…it’s just…it’s just dirty guys. There’s no other way to say it. BUT, (weirdly) it did make me think of you. Why? Well, for some reason I’ve noticed that more than a few blogs have been talking about threesomes recently, and that’s pretty much all this book is about (oh, and a stalker – the “thriller” aspect). It seemed like some sort of sign that I should write about it.
So I’ve decided to give you guys a book report - Redhead style. With the dirty minds I know are out there, you need to know what kind of literature is available to you. And that’s my service dear readers – I’m making you aware. Educating you if you will. No, no need to thank me, it’s my pleasure. Anyway, on with the show:
(Oh, and if you guys end up liking this, we can discuss making my book reports a regular feature on the blog. But it would need to have a cool name, like…nope, I don’t do creative. You guys offer suggestions if you want.)
Book Title: Forbidden Pleasure
Redhead’s comments: No, that’s not a joke – that IS the title of the book.
Author: Lora Leigh
Redhead’s comments: She does not skimp on the dirty talk/graphic sex. Naturally, I’m now a huge fan.
Synopsis (from the publisher): People have heard fleeting rumors about The Club located just outside of Washington, D.C. Only its members know where men go when they want to indulge their desire to share their women with a carefully selected male partner.
John "Mac" McCoy resigned his membership from The Club when he married Keiley Hardin. Tempting and innocent, sweet and sexy, Mac knows that she would never accept his desire to share her with another man. However, Mac's fantasies of sharing his wife haunt his dreams. Then Jethro Riggs, Mac's best friend, arrives at her their home in Wyoming. Of all the men, it was Riggs whom Mac shared his women with. They shared the same views on pleasing women and a hunger to push the same boundaries. Slowly Mac and Riggs introduce Keiley to a pleasure she has never known.
Redhead’s comments: *Giggling* OK, so that sort of covers it. Mac marries this innocent little thing named Keiley, he gives up “ménages” and moves away from D.C. – where he was an FBI agent. His old partner (in many ways) Jethro, stays behind. Slowly Mac grows restless, wants to share his wife (who wouldn’t?), and he calls Jethro to come “join them” without asking his wife’s permission first (because why would he?). Jethro comes, much naughtiness ensues, the end. Oh and yes, there is a stalker thrown into the mix – very, very, very secondary in the book. Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly nervous for any of these characters.
(Sidenote: How do you pronounce her name? Is it Keeley or Kiley? This question distracted me WAY too much while reading.)
Sex Scenes: Too numerous to count – no, I’m not exaggerating. There were a couple with just Mac and Keiley, a couple with just Jethro and Keiley, and MANY with the three of them. If you can imagine them doing it, they did it. You think some things are too dirty and out there to put in a book – you’re wrong. It’s in there, trust me. Still don’t believe me? OK, let’s give you an excerpt from the book – this is pretty much the tamest thing you’ll find in there (again, I’m not exaggerating).
Excerpt:
He tasted like the night. His cock felt like silk-encased iron, his balls drawn tight beneath it. And Keiley used every trick Mac had taught her to erode his control while Mac’s hands eased over her quivering body.
The fingers of one hand gripped the straining shaft, while she calmed his balls in the palm of her other, her fingers working over the straining flesh of each portion of his body. She licked beneath the head, then sucked him deep as she worked her tongue along the straining flesh. Blood was pumping, throbbing beneath the skin, making it steel-hard, sensitive.
“She has you.” Mac’s chuckle was rough. “Once that hot little mouth gets hold of you, you’re a goner.”
Jethro’s hands were in her hair, tightening, tugging.
“Spank her. Let me watch her ass blush.”
Keiley moaned. A second later she cried out around the hard flesh filling her mouth as Mac’s hand landed on her rear.
A second later, it rose between her thighs, a light little tap to her pussy exploding through her senses. Another to her rear. Back between her thighs. Jethro’s hands were tugging at her hair, and Keiley was fighting to keep the pressure on his cock as too many sensations began to invade her body.
She was so wet that the soft slaps to her pussy only heated her further, made her want more. Need more.
“I want her waxed.” Jethro was panting. “Soon, Mac. I want that pussy waxed.”
----
OK, that’s it for me. Happy Wednesday everybody!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
A Little Vent
Some shit that happened this weekend:
-I got another short email from Fantasy Guy – basically putting the ball back in my court – and thought to myself, ‘This guy is a pussy.’ Needless to say, I’m not responding again.
-I’ve stopped returning Tattoo Guy’s calls – his three dates are up. He doesn’t seem to know what happened to cause me to stop talking to him. This, of course, makes sense since he never did anything wrong. A true case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ if you will. The lesson here: You never know what’s going on in the mind of another person – and honestly most of the time you don’t want to know – so stop stressing. It’s not even personal half the time. Grow up people.
-Christine sent me an email yesterday asking how my weekend was (more on that in a bit). I said fine and asked her about hers (the polite response), and she simply replied, “Interesting.” OK, there’s a story there, I thought. “What happened?” Short version: It turns out one of Christine’s friends (a guy) has been sending her “signals” for some time now. She missed all of them (surprise, surprise). On Saturday he made a move. She was so shocked she didn’t stop him. Now not only has she made out with him, she went out with him last night. (“How could I say no when I had my tongue down his throat?” she asked.) Also, they have spoken on the phone no less than 5 times in the last two days. Yet Christine still doesn’t know whether she likes him or not. I told her this would make a great story on their wedding day. She didn’t think that was funny at all. The lesson here: Women are idiots.
-Here’s an email I got yesterday titled 9 Words Women Use – I hate to say it guys, but it’s pretty accurate:
1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a ½ hour. [Ed note: Not true for me – if I say five minutes it will be five minutes, if I say a ½ hour, it will be a ½ hour.] Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.
4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)
6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.
8. Whatever: Is a women's way of saying F@!K YOU!
9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to #3.
-Redhead Public Service Announcement: When eating, could everyone please SHUT THEIR FUCKING MOUTHS!?! I mean, I don’t want to be a bitch here (total lie), but no one wants to see what the fuck you’re eating. And NO ONE wants to hear you fucking chewing and slurping and snarfling (or whatever the fuck you’re doing). What is fucking WRONG with you people? You’re annoying the shit out of me, it’s fucking rude, and it’s gross. So stop it! Close your goddamn mouths.
-I hate EVERYONE today. Consider this your warning; I’m in a REALLY bad mood.
-My sister came up last weekend from D.C. Now I don’t talk about her a lot here, but I fucking love her to death. She is the exact opposite of me in every way – I’m serious, most people can’t believe we’re related. Some bullet point differences:
Redhead’s Sister:
Physically – 5’4, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, skinny, runs marathons for FUN (?!?!), pretty conservative dresser
Personality – quiet, shy, nice to everyone, will give a stranger the shirt off her back, doesn’t curse, and has been known to let people walk all over her
Redhead:
Physically – 5’8, wavy red hair, green eyes, thin (not skinny), doesn’t run marathons for any reason (and hates every minute of exercising), I pay more attention to trends when I'm dressing (but I don’t dress like a spaz thank you very much)
Personality – loud, mean, I hate most people, I couldn’t care less about strangers, I curse like a truck driver, and I pity anyone who ever tries to take advantage of me (or those I care about)
Anyway, my sister came up from D.C. this past weekend, and we went to the Yanks game on Thursday night. Since my sister (along with my brother and his wife) pays for my seats, it was nice to finally show her (after years of having these tickets) what she’s been shelling out all that cash for. (She was impressed.)
So we got to the game, and after the Tigers hit a grand slam in the first inning we decided we could do a little talking and catching up (God knows we didn’t want to watch the horror that was taking place on the field too closely). The topic quickly turned to my sister’s boyfriend/ex-boyfriend/dickhead. Now, I knew Sister and Dickhead had broken up a couple weeks ago. (Note: This…um…the breaking up thing happens a lot with them.) I had called shortly after I got the news, but she hadn’t been very talkative then. She was talkative on Thursday night, so I was finally able to get the story. And boy did I get it.
Now, my sister’s boyfriend is a dickhead of the first degree – that’s why I call him Dickhead behind his back. My brother calls him Tool. But around my sister, we both keep our mouth’s shut. That’s why when she started the conversation with “I hesitate to tell you this because I don’t want you to say or do anything to [name redacted] if I end up getting back together with him,” I knew it was going to be bad – and I was going to have trouble keeping my mouth shut.
I was right.
The gist of the latest Sister/Dickhead story: Dickhead cheated, he got caught, he blamed her (surprise, surprise), and now he’s trying to worm his slimy ass back into Sister’s life. Oh, and she might let him.
Pause. Deep breath. Trying not to break something (like his dick – off).
Now I love my sister. She is all that’s good in the world, she is sweet and vulnerable, and she FUCKING DESERVES BETTER. But she JUST DOESN’T GET IT. She is settling without even realizing she’s doing it, and I don’t know how to fix her. Yes, dating is exhausting. Yes, I understand why she doesn’t want to be single again. Yes, I’m sure Dickhead has been nice once or twice in the two years they’ve been together. But seriously – WHAT THE FUCK? Overall, he treats her like shit. And she lets him. AND I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING AND IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS.
Because I know that besides giving her advice (both at the game and then AGAIN on Saturday night at dinner), there’s nothing I can do. And I HATE that. I hate that I can’t make other people do what I want them to do – even when I know I’m right. And the lack of control pisses me off. All I’d need is two weeks and I could fix most people, I swear to God. But noooooo. Fuck!
These realizations have made me cranky. And the effort it’s taking to not go down to D.C. and commit a felony on Dickhead is also making me cranky. So besides venting to you people, I need a pick me up. So pick me up dear readers. Tell me funny stories. Kiss my ass. Entertain ME dammit!
-I got another short email from Fantasy Guy – basically putting the ball back in my court – and thought to myself, ‘This guy is a pussy.’ Needless to say, I’m not responding again.
-I’ve stopped returning Tattoo Guy’s calls – his three dates are up. He doesn’t seem to know what happened to cause me to stop talking to him. This, of course, makes sense since he never did anything wrong. A true case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ if you will. The lesson here: You never know what’s going on in the mind of another person – and honestly most of the time you don’t want to know – so stop stressing. It’s not even personal half the time. Grow up people.
-Christine sent me an email yesterday asking how my weekend was (more on that in a bit). I said fine and asked her about hers (the polite response), and she simply replied, “Interesting.” OK, there’s a story there, I thought. “What happened?” Short version: It turns out one of Christine’s friends (a guy) has been sending her “signals” for some time now. She missed all of them (surprise, surprise). On Saturday he made a move. She was so shocked she didn’t stop him. Now not only has she made out with him, she went out with him last night. (“How could I say no when I had my tongue down his throat?” she asked.) Also, they have spoken on the phone no less than 5 times in the last two days. Yet Christine still doesn’t know whether she likes him or not. I told her this would make a great story on their wedding day. She didn’t think that was funny at all. The lesson here: Women are idiots.
-Here’s an email I got yesterday titled 9 Words Women Use – I hate to say it guys, but it’s pretty accurate:
1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.
2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a ½ hour. [Ed note: Not true for me – if I say five minutes it will be five minutes, if I say a ½ hour, it will be a ½ hour.] Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.
3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.
4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!
5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)
6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.
8. Whatever: Is a women's way of saying F@!K YOU!
9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to #3.
-Redhead Public Service Announcement: When eating, could everyone please SHUT THEIR FUCKING MOUTHS!?! I mean, I don’t want to be a bitch here (total lie), but no one wants to see what the fuck you’re eating. And NO ONE wants to hear you fucking chewing and slurping and snarfling (or whatever the fuck you’re doing). What is fucking WRONG with you people? You’re annoying the shit out of me, it’s fucking rude, and it’s gross. So stop it! Close your goddamn mouths.
-I hate EVERYONE today. Consider this your warning; I’m in a REALLY bad mood.
-My sister came up last weekend from D.C. Now I don’t talk about her a lot here, but I fucking love her to death. She is the exact opposite of me in every way – I’m serious, most people can’t believe we’re related. Some bullet point differences:
Redhead’s Sister:
Physically – 5’4, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, skinny, runs marathons for FUN (?!?!), pretty conservative dresser
Personality – quiet, shy, nice to everyone, will give a stranger the shirt off her back, doesn’t curse, and has been known to let people walk all over her
Redhead:
Physically – 5’8, wavy red hair, green eyes, thin (not skinny), doesn’t run marathons for any reason (and hates every minute of exercising), I pay more attention to trends when I'm dressing (but I don’t dress like a spaz thank you very much)
Personality – loud, mean, I hate most people, I couldn’t care less about strangers, I curse like a truck driver, and I pity anyone who ever tries to take advantage of me (or those I care about)
Anyway, my sister came up from D.C. this past weekend, and we went to the Yanks game on Thursday night. Since my sister (along with my brother and his wife) pays for my seats, it was nice to finally show her (after years of having these tickets) what she’s been shelling out all that cash for. (She was impressed.)
So we got to the game, and after the Tigers hit a grand slam in the first inning we decided we could do a little talking and catching up (God knows we didn’t want to watch the horror that was taking place on the field too closely). The topic quickly turned to my sister’s boyfriend/ex-boyfriend/dickhead. Now, I knew Sister and Dickhead had broken up a couple weeks ago. (Note: This…um…the breaking up thing happens a lot with them.) I had called shortly after I got the news, but she hadn’t been very talkative then. She was talkative on Thursday night, so I was finally able to get the story. And boy did I get it.
Now, my sister’s boyfriend is a dickhead of the first degree – that’s why I call him Dickhead behind his back. My brother calls him Tool. But around my sister, we both keep our mouth’s shut. That’s why when she started the conversation with “I hesitate to tell you this because I don’t want you to say or do anything to [name redacted] if I end up getting back together with him,” I knew it was going to be bad – and I was going to have trouble keeping my mouth shut.
I was right.
The gist of the latest Sister/Dickhead story: Dickhead cheated, he got caught, he blamed her (surprise, surprise), and now he’s trying to worm his slimy ass back into Sister’s life. Oh, and she might let him.
Pause. Deep breath. Trying not to break something (like his dick – off).
Now I love my sister. She is all that’s good in the world, she is sweet and vulnerable, and she FUCKING DESERVES BETTER. But she JUST DOESN’T GET IT. She is settling without even realizing she’s doing it, and I don’t know how to fix her. Yes, dating is exhausting. Yes, I understand why she doesn’t want to be single again. Yes, I’m sure Dickhead has been nice once or twice in the two years they’ve been together. But seriously – WHAT THE FUCK? Overall, he treats her like shit. And she lets him. AND I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING AND IT’S DRIVING ME NUTS.
Because I know that besides giving her advice (both at the game and then AGAIN on Saturday night at dinner), there’s nothing I can do. And I HATE that. I hate that I can’t make other people do what I want them to do – even when I know I’m right. And the lack of control pisses me off. All I’d need is two weeks and I could fix most people, I swear to God. But noooooo. Fuck!
These realizations have made me cranky. And the effort it’s taking to not go down to D.C. and commit a felony on Dickhead is also making me cranky. So besides venting to you people, I need a pick me up. So pick me up dear readers. Tell me funny stories. Kiss my ass. Entertain ME dammit!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Need Help
OK guys, I actually need your help/advice right now, so get ready. Um…where to begin? Fuck it, let’s just say that rare as it is, sometimes men do things that I can’t figure out, I overthink things, and I turn into a fucking girl about it. I hate that. But like it or not, this just happens to be one of those times. So…some quick background info:
About 2 years ago I went on a few dates with this guy. It never got serious, the calls and dates between both of us were sporadic at best, and eventually things petered out. Honestly, the most that happened between us was that I joined this guy’s fantasy baseball league, OK? But I actually liked him; I thought he was adorable. BUT, I never got a real serious vibe from him so I never really pushed things (I like being the one pursued, what can I say).
Anyway, after baseball season ended, we stopped communicating altogether and that was that – no big deal. That was about a year and a half ago. THEN, today – out of fucking nowhere – I get an email. No, not from Fantasy Guy – that will be his nickname for now – but from Friendster. Now, I know nothing about Friendster, had never been on their Web site before today, and have very little to go on here, but the gist of the email was that Fantasy Guy was inviting me to join Friendster and his network of friends.
Weird.
Immediately I emailed Christine and told her what was going on – I had to remind her who Fantasy Guy was it had been so long. I then asked HER to tell ME what the fuck was going on. (Note: Christine is normally great at figuring stuff out.)
She told me to go on Friendster and check to see how long he’s been a member. Apparently, I needed to figure out if this was a ‘he just joined and he submitted the names and emails of everyone in his address book’ thing, or is this was a ‘he’s been thinking about me and this is his way of making contact’ sort of thing.
Fucking boys.
SO, I went onto Friendster. He’s been a member since 2003, he has 18 people in his “network” or friends, and there are no recent additions to the group.
Ummm…
Christine now has nothing. Besides saying this is probably a passive-aggressive way of getting in touch – he obviously has my email, why not email me directly if he wants to talk? – she still can’t tell me what he might be thinking. Does he want to give us a second chance to get to know each other better? Is this just a weird blip on the radar and it means nothing? What could possess him to think of me NOW anyway? And what exactly does he want me to do here? Do I join? Do I email him and ask? Did he invite me by accident? Agh!
Look what I’ve been reduced to. I’m overthinking and analyzing this to death, and I’m pissing myself off. I AM NOT THAT GIRL!!!!!!!! Shit, this is what this guy does to me, and I do not know why. This is why I was almost happy when nothing came of us.
People, help me and tell me what’s going on/what I should do – I’m clearly in no shape to be figuring this out on my own.
About 2 years ago I went on a few dates with this guy. It never got serious, the calls and dates between both of us were sporadic at best, and eventually things petered out. Honestly, the most that happened between us was that I joined this guy’s fantasy baseball league, OK? But I actually liked him; I thought he was adorable. BUT, I never got a real serious vibe from him so I never really pushed things (I like being the one pursued, what can I say).
Anyway, after baseball season ended, we stopped communicating altogether and that was that – no big deal. That was about a year and a half ago. THEN, today – out of fucking nowhere – I get an email. No, not from Fantasy Guy – that will be his nickname for now – but from Friendster. Now, I know nothing about Friendster, had never been on their Web site before today, and have very little to go on here, but the gist of the email was that Fantasy Guy was inviting me to join Friendster and his network of friends.
Weird.
Immediately I emailed Christine and told her what was going on – I had to remind her who Fantasy Guy was it had been so long. I then asked HER to tell ME what the fuck was going on. (Note: Christine is normally great at figuring stuff out.)
She told me to go on Friendster and check to see how long he’s been a member. Apparently, I needed to figure out if this was a ‘he just joined and he submitted the names and emails of everyone in his address book’ thing, or is this was a ‘he’s been thinking about me and this is his way of making contact’ sort of thing.
Fucking boys.
SO, I went onto Friendster. He’s been a member since 2003, he has 18 people in his “network” or friends, and there are no recent additions to the group.
Ummm…
Christine now has nothing. Besides saying this is probably a passive-aggressive way of getting in touch – he obviously has my email, why not email me directly if he wants to talk? – she still can’t tell me what he might be thinking. Does he want to give us a second chance to get to know each other better? Is this just a weird blip on the radar and it means nothing? What could possess him to think of me NOW anyway? And what exactly does he want me to do here? Do I join? Do I email him and ask? Did he invite me by accident? Agh!
Look what I’ve been reduced to. I’m overthinking and analyzing this to death, and I’m pissing myself off. I AM NOT THAT GIRL!!!!!!!! Shit, this is what this guy does to me, and I do not know why. This is why I was almost happy when nothing came of us.
People, help me and tell me what’s going on/what I should do – I’m clearly in no shape to be figuring this out on my own.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Uh Oh
So I got an email from my friend Linda yesterday – you may remember her from here. And as I read through it I realized that we hadn’t spoken in a couple of months. No big deal – it was more of an observation than anything else. (Hmmm, maybe I should explain that a bit more…)
OK, here’s the thing – I can easily go months without talking to a friend. How is that possible, you ask? Well, the easy answer is I’m lazy and like to be left alone; if my friends don’t call me I won’t call them. (Yes, I suck.) But, since my friends all know this, it’s not an issue. They DO call me. (I lost track of the ones who didn’t long ago.)
But sometimes shit happens, and I won’t hear from someone for a long period of time. This can happen for many reasons, but the top ones are: 1) Work’s crazy, 2) They were on vacation and when they got back they had shit to do, or 3) They found themselves a boyfriend.
Let me be clear: I am not implying that my friends are the type to drop off the face of the earth when they find a man – I don’t hang with those chicks. But when they’re the ones who have to make all the effort to keep in touch (again, I suck), I tend to become the person who slips through the cracks. And I’m cool with that. OK? OK, now back to my story.
So my email dings yesterday, and it’s Linda. She wants to hang out, she just got back from vacation (aha!), AND she has a new boyfriend. “Ooh” I replied, “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”
“It’s Charlie,” she wrote back. And I thought…OH FUCK!
Here’s the problem with Linda dating Charlie – Charlie has been Linda’s friend for a while, I’ve met him on multiple occasions, he’s a total tool, and he once asked me out and I laughed in his face.
Yeah, you read that right. I quite literally…laughed…in…his…face.
Yup.
You see what happened was we were all out at a bar a few months ago, and Charlie had cornered me into a conversation. Charlie is socially awkward and just plain annoying, so don’t even think about blaming me for deciding to start drinking. And for continuing to drink. Anyway, by the time he asked me out (shocking the shit out of me), I was pretty well buzzed. So I…laughed in his face. And umm…said no. And walked away…
The thing is, Charlie is both self-righteous and completely lacking in a sense of humor (not that I expected him to find his asking me out as funny as I did). He’s also tall, kind of fat, not at all attractive, and slightly balding. I am not only NOT attracted to him physically, but I think he’s a total jackass. So I laughed.
Still, he’s Linda’s friend, so…yeah, I should have handled it better.
Only now Linda’s dating him. And while I never told her what happened at the bar that night (why would I sell myself out?), and I doubt he did either (you don’t tell a girl you’re dating that you once hit on her friend), this could still get sticky. Because I don’t want to hang out with them, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hang out with me, and neither of us can tell Linda why.
So what I’m thinking will happen is Linda will insist we all go out, he’ll act weird (because he’s the complete opposite of cool), and Linda will get suspicious.
Then Linda will freak out. Because here’s the thing – Linda and I have known each other for a while. And she has some issues with me. She’s…not entirely comfortable letting guys she likes near me. Long story short, it started in high school when the guy she was in love with told her he had a crush on me. The fact that I wasn’t interested didn’t matter, and Linda ended up not speaking to me for MONTHS (even though I had never done anything wrong!).
Now Linda has another boyfriend – one who (at least a few months ago) was interested in me. And if Linda finds out what happened – not just that he asked me out but also how rude I was to him (oops) – I’m…uh…fucked I guess is the word.
So…any suggestions people? You know me – I don’t do subtlety and “nice stuff” well so I am fully capable of making this whole thing worse. Oh, and don’t tell me she’s overreacting (or will be) if she gets mad – while that’s true and I totally agree (I hate drama), this is one of my best friends here. So be good.
OK, here’s the thing – I can easily go months without talking to a friend. How is that possible, you ask? Well, the easy answer is I’m lazy and like to be left alone; if my friends don’t call me I won’t call them. (Yes, I suck.) But, since my friends all know this, it’s not an issue. They DO call me. (I lost track of the ones who didn’t long ago.)
But sometimes shit happens, and I won’t hear from someone for a long period of time. This can happen for many reasons, but the top ones are: 1) Work’s crazy, 2) They were on vacation and when they got back they had shit to do, or 3) They found themselves a boyfriend.
Let me be clear: I am not implying that my friends are the type to drop off the face of the earth when they find a man – I don’t hang with those chicks. But when they’re the ones who have to make all the effort to keep in touch (again, I suck), I tend to become the person who slips through the cracks. And I’m cool with that. OK? OK, now back to my story.
So my email dings yesterday, and it’s Linda. She wants to hang out, she just got back from vacation (aha!), AND she has a new boyfriend. “Ooh” I replied, “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”
“It’s Charlie,” she wrote back. And I thought…OH FUCK!
Here’s the problem with Linda dating Charlie – Charlie has been Linda’s friend for a while, I’ve met him on multiple occasions, he’s a total tool, and he once asked me out and I laughed in his face.
Yeah, you read that right. I quite literally…laughed…in…his…face.
Yup.
You see what happened was we were all out at a bar a few months ago, and Charlie had cornered me into a conversation. Charlie is socially awkward and just plain annoying, so don’t even think about blaming me for deciding to start drinking. And for continuing to drink. Anyway, by the time he asked me out (shocking the shit out of me), I was pretty well buzzed. So I…laughed in his face. And umm…said no. And walked away…
The thing is, Charlie is both self-righteous and completely lacking in a sense of humor (not that I expected him to find his asking me out as funny as I did). He’s also tall, kind of fat, not at all attractive, and slightly balding. I am not only NOT attracted to him physically, but I think he’s a total jackass. So I laughed.
Still, he’s Linda’s friend, so…yeah, I should have handled it better.
Only now Linda’s dating him. And while I never told her what happened at the bar that night (why would I sell myself out?), and I doubt he did either (you don’t tell a girl you’re dating that you once hit on her friend), this could still get sticky. Because I don’t want to hang out with them, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hang out with me, and neither of us can tell Linda why.
So what I’m thinking will happen is Linda will insist we all go out, he’ll act weird (because he’s the complete opposite of cool), and Linda will get suspicious.
Then Linda will freak out. Because here’s the thing – Linda and I have known each other for a while. And she has some issues with me. She’s…not entirely comfortable letting guys she likes near me. Long story short, it started in high school when the guy she was in love with told her he had a crush on me. The fact that I wasn’t interested didn’t matter, and Linda ended up not speaking to me for MONTHS (even though I had never done anything wrong!).
Now Linda has another boyfriend – one who (at least a few months ago) was interested in me. And if Linda finds out what happened – not just that he asked me out but also how rude I was to him (oops) – I’m…uh…fucked I guess is the word.
So…any suggestions people? You know me – I don’t do subtlety and “nice stuff” well so I am fully capable of making this whole thing worse. Oh, and don’t tell me she’s overreacting (or will be) if she gets mad – while that’s true and I totally agree (I hate drama), this is one of my best friends here. So be good.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Just...Wow
My blog has reached an all time low - according to sitemeter, if you google "I licked her mom's old pussy" my little, INNOCENT blog comes up. To this I say 1) EWWWWW, and 2) What...the...fuck?!
Anyway, as a Tuesday present to you (my lovely readers who DON'T google weird ass shit like the above - I hope), I'm going to share some pictures that were emailed to me yesterday. This, my friends, is proof that God/Mother Nature/whatever has a kick ass sense of humor. Enjoy.
Update: Unbefuckinglievable. New google search that will bring you to my blog: Fucking my redhead sister-in-law.
I...have no words.
Anyway, as a Tuesday present to you (my lovely readers who DON'T google weird ass shit like the above - I hope), I'm going to share some pictures that were emailed to me yesterday. This, my friends, is proof that God/Mother Nature/whatever has a kick ass sense of humor. Enjoy.
Update: Unbefuckinglievable. New google search that will bring you to my blog: Fucking my redhead sister-in-law.
I...have no words.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Redhead’s Fat Ass
I’m…so…tired. Can’t…think…very…hard. So forgive me if this makes no sense. To recap my weekend:
My grandmother is in town visiting, and she is staying with my parents. Translation: My mother is going to kill someone soon – hopefully NOT my grandmother (my father’s mother – for those of you who hadn’t guessed already). My job was to run interference over the weekend – this basically meant I spent the weekend with my parents and let them feed me.
Saturday night involved meeting up with mom and dad, my grandmother, brother, and sister-in-law for dinner in Manhattan. It was decadent and wonderful, the company was lovely, and I got drunkety drunk drunk. (Seriously, I woke up at 3am with the whirlies.)
Note: I enjoy getting dressed up and going to a REALLY nice restaurant more than most people, but spending more than $1,000 on one meal does seem a bit excessive to me. Not excessive enough to stop me from thoroughly enjoying it, but…I wish I made more money. Guess I’ll just have to marry well (or keep mooching off my parents).
Anyway, back to the story. So on Sunday my parents were having a barbeque at their house; my brother and sister-in-law were bringing out my nephews to swim in the pool, and a bunch of other people were going to be there. Just to torture me, my father made his ribs (my all-time FAVORITE food). He also made Johnsonville brats. Fuck – being a vegetarian sucks.
But I stuck to my guns, explained why I was staring at everyone like I wanted to kill – simply because they were eating what I wanted to be eating – and endured the endless feedback/opinions/blatant mocking of those present. Some comments on my new vegetarian kick:
My sister-in-law: (Note: She’s fucking awesome, but she doesn’t pull any punches) “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard – you’re too old to be going through a phase like this. I would have accepted this right after you finished college, but not now. Cut it out.”
My mother’s friend: (Note: She is blunt to the point of scaring people – not surprisingly, we get along really well when we’re not at each other’s throat) “Men won’t want to date you if you’re a vegetarian, Redhead. They like a woman who will go out and order a steak, NOT a salad. So get over your guilt – I’m sick of waiting for you and your sister to get married.”
There were many other things said as well, that those were the most colorful. So…yup. Anyway, the real highlight of the day took place by the pool. Let me set the scene: My brother was in the pool with my nephew (the older one who’s going to turn 2 next month) – and they were having a great time playing and laughing. A group of us (yes, all women) were gathered around on lounge chairs watching them and chatting. (Shut up – they looked cute as hell.)
So, the lounge chairs my parents have by the pool are a nice light gray, and they’re made of a mesh type fabric – except for the frames, which are metal (duh). And we’ve had them for years. I was sitting on the end of one holding my other nephew (the younger one that you might remember from a few weeks back), and I was talking to my sister-in-law (who was enjoying a cocktail even though she was also hung over from the night before). And then…
I was on the ground. Holding a 7 MONTH OLD BABY up above my sprawled, prostrate, and (now) very bruised body. (Note: It was a miracle that when I went down, I didn’t mindlessly use him to break my fall – that would have put me on the all-time Bad Aunt list. But no (chest puffed out), instead I allowed myself to hit the ground HARD, without using my hands to break the fall at all, because I INNATELY chose to keep the child aloft and out of harm’s way. Yes, I am a rock star.)
Anyway there I was, flat on my back (kind of like a turtle – you may remember the position from this night), holding my nephew up and listening to the sounds of surprise as everyone gathered around us. And I was trying to process WHAT THE FUCK HAD JUST HAPPENED.
Oh, and my ass felt like I’d just broken it (fucking concrete around the pool). On the plus side, the baby wasn’t crying – he mainly just looked surprised – so for that…thank fucking God.
Anyway, once the baby was whisked away I chose to remain collapsed on the ground (I was taking a moment), and that’s when it finally hit me – I had fucking BROKEN a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture had been no match for the weight of my ass.
Hmmm…humbling. If I were a lesser person I might have taken that as a sign to immediately stop eating. Forever.
Thankfully, I am not that kind of chick. Plus, in my defense, 1) I’m not fat – I’m just not (broken furniture notwithstanding). So I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole thing (although I really do think I’ve fucked up my tailbone). In fact, I went inside almost immediately after the Lounge Chair Debacle of ’07 to tell everyone who’d missed it what had happened – boy were they bummed they hadn't been there. THEN I went into work the next day and wrote a blog post about it – I have no shame. 2) The mesh on the chair I had chosen was ripped along the frame on one side when I sat down – it was being held together by a couple inches of mesh that were still attached. My sitting on it precisely where I did (at it’s most vulnerable point) was really just a bad call on my part (and totally something I would do – way to pay attention Redhead). It was an accident waiting to happen if you will. I was merely a victim of circumstance. (Shut up.)
So…that was it. That was my weekend – kind of mellow actually. What about you guys? Anyone have any good stories for me?
My grandmother is in town visiting, and she is staying with my parents. Translation: My mother is going to kill someone soon – hopefully NOT my grandmother (my father’s mother – for those of you who hadn’t guessed already). My job was to run interference over the weekend – this basically meant I spent the weekend with my parents and let them feed me.
Saturday night involved meeting up with mom and dad, my grandmother, brother, and sister-in-law for dinner in Manhattan. It was decadent and wonderful, the company was lovely, and I got drunkety drunk drunk. (Seriously, I woke up at 3am with the whirlies.)
Note: I enjoy getting dressed up and going to a REALLY nice restaurant more than most people, but spending more than $1,000 on one meal does seem a bit excessive to me. Not excessive enough to stop me from thoroughly enjoying it, but…I wish I made more money. Guess I’ll just have to marry well (or keep mooching off my parents).
Anyway, back to the story. So on Sunday my parents were having a barbeque at their house; my brother and sister-in-law were bringing out my nephews to swim in the pool, and a bunch of other people were going to be there. Just to torture me, my father made his ribs (my all-time FAVORITE food). He also made Johnsonville brats. Fuck – being a vegetarian sucks.
But I stuck to my guns, explained why I was staring at everyone like I wanted to kill – simply because they were eating what I wanted to be eating – and endured the endless feedback/opinions/blatant mocking of those present. Some comments on my new vegetarian kick:
My sister-in-law: (Note: She’s fucking awesome, but she doesn’t pull any punches) “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard – you’re too old to be going through a phase like this. I would have accepted this right after you finished college, but not now. Cut it out.”
My mother’s friend: (Note: She is blunt to the point of scaring people – not surprisingly, we get along really well when we’re not at each other’s throat) “Men won’t want to date you if you’re a vegetarian, Redhead. They like a woman who will go out and order a steak, NOT a salad. So get over your guilt – I’m sick of waiting for you and your sister to get married.”
There were many other things said as well, that those were the most colorful. So…yup. Anyway, the real highlight of the day took place by the pool. Let me set the scene: My brother was in the pool with my nephew (the older one who’s going to turn 2 next month) – and they were having a great time playing and laughing. A group of us (yes, all women) were gathered around on lounge chairs watching them and chatting. (Shut up – they looked cute as hell.)
So, the lounge chairs my parents have by the pool are a nice light gray, and they’re made of a mesh type fabric – except for the frames, which are metal (duh). And we’ve had them for years. I was sitting on the end of one holding my other nephew (the younger one that you might remember from a few weeks back), and I was talking to my sister-in-law (who was enjoying a cocktail even though she was also hung over from the night before). And then…
I was on the ground. Holding a 7 MONTH OLD BABY up above my sprawled, prostrate, and (now) very bruised body. (Note: It was a miracle that when I went down, I didn’t mindlessly use him to break my fall – that would have put me on the all-time Bad Aunt list. But no (chest puffed out), instead I allowed myself to hit the ground HARD, without using my hands to break the fall at all, because I INNATELY chose to keep the child aloft and out of harm’s way. Yes, I am a rock star.)
Anyway there I was, flat on my back (kind of like a turtle – you may remember the position from this night), holding my nephew up and listening to the sounds of surprise as everyone gathered around us. And I was trying to process WHAT THE FUCK HAD JUST HAPPENED.
Oh, and my ass felt like I’d just broken it (fucking concrete around the pool). On the plus side, the baby wasn’t crying – he mainly just looked surprised – so for that…thank fucking God.
Anyway, once the baby was whisked away I chose to remain collapsed on the ground (I was taking a moment), and that’s when it finally hit me – I had fucking BROKEN a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture had been no match for the weight of my ass.
Hmmm…humbling. If I were a lesser person I might have taken that as a sign to immediately stop eating. Forever.
Thankfully, I am not that kind of chick. Plus, in my defense, 1) I’m not fat – I’m just not (broken furniture notwithstanding). So I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole thing (although I really do think I’ve fucked up my tailbone). In fact, I went inside almost immediately after the Lounge Chair Debacle of ’07 to tell everyone who’d missed it what had happened – boy were they bummed they hadn't been there. THEN I went into work the next day and wrote a blog post about it – I have no shame. 2) The mesh on the chair I had chosen was ripped along the frame on one side when I sat down – it was being held together by a couple inches of mesh that were still attached. My sitting on it precisely where I did (at it’s most vulnerable point) was really just a bad call on my part (and totally something I would do – way to pay attention Redhead). It was an accident waiting to happen if you will. I was merely a victim of circumstance. (Shut up.)
So…that was it. That was my weekend – kind of mellow actually. What about you guys? Anyone have any good stories for me?
Thursday, August 9, 2007
F*ck It
Let’s go through my week so far, shall we? Good:
-I am officially, totally, and completely broken up with NY Guy. I don’t want to go into the details or anything (even in my own mind), so all I’m going to do is give you a 3 word synopsis of the actual breakup. Ready? Good:
It was ugly.
-In a related story, I’m now off relationships – for at least a little while. What does that mean? Well, for one thing it means that Tattoo Guy is getting no more than three dates out of me (what – I’m not dead), and then he’s hitting the road. It also means that my mom is going to be pissed. But to me it means that I’m just going to relax and enjoy my singledom (is that a word?). I need some rest people, and honestly – except for the obvious physical benefits of being in a relationship – I much prefer being single. I am not one of those girls who can’t stand being alone and jumps from boyfriend to boyfriend (to avoid spending any real time relying on myself) – I’d fucking shoot myself if I was. So…um…FYI.
-The subways all over Manhattan were down yesterday thanks to 3 inches or rain in a half-hour’s time (oh, and apparently a tornado or two). Being that I live uptown, my office is in Soho, it was hot as hell yesterday - and the city’s transportation system had deteriorated into one big clusterfuck - I never made it into work. I did however get to spend the entire day on my computer at home trying to put out fires (I’m talking metaphorical fires for the morons out there) over email. Ever try to yell at DHL about a lost package over email? Yeah, it’s completely pointless – the very definition of ‘an exercise in futility.’ Now why didn’t I just use my phone you ask? Why didn’t I call them up and demand to speak to a human being? Well, thanks to a little thing I like to call My Life Sucks, my cell phone chose yesterday to crap out on me. So I had no way of contacting anyone in any real way. (I feel like I need a drink even now - I had a few yesterday - just thinking about that.)
-On Tuesday I got the fun job of firing this really young, really sweet, and TOTALLY incompetent editor that we had working on a special project for us. And…it sucked. I mean, she clearly deserved to be fired (honestly, she had to be the most half-assed worker I’ve ever seen – and I write a blog while I’m at work), but the actual act of firing her – someone who has done nothing but frustrate and piss me off for weeks now – was still a complete downer. (Oh, and now I have all of two days to find a replacement for her – FUCK.)
-Well, I’ve officially been taken off of Christine’s Match.com search –sorry guys. It seems that I committed a huge no-no when I replied to one of her admirers with a rather succinct and (in my opinion) accurate assessment of his character. Want to know what I wrote? Cool, let me just make sure I get the wording exactly right…OK, here it is:
“You’re a douchebag.”
Yeah…that um….that didn’t go over so well. (Although what the fuck was Christine thinking when she asked me to go through her Match.com emails the day after I’d gone through one of the uglier breakups in the history of mankind? I’m only taking so much responsibility here.) Anyway, things really went bad for me when Douchebag replied to Christine with a rather long, mean (could he have overreacted more?), and whiny email. And since Christine wasn’t aware that I had instigated this at the time (I meant to give her a heads up – I swear), she got pissed and reported this guy to Match. He then was notified, and in retaliation he reported her.
THEN she told me what was going on and I explained things…
So…yeah, I’m off the case. It’s probably for the best – I’m in no shape to be running ANYONE’S love life right now. (Although in my defense, it was probably WAY past time someone told Douchebag what a prick he was.) Still…my bad.
-On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being You’re Great and 1 being You’re Fucked, where do you think my karma is right now? Never mind, don’t answer that.
-I am officially, totally, and completely broken up with NY Guy. I don’t want to go into the details or anything (even in my own mind), so all I’m going to do is give you a 3 word synopsis of the actual breakup. Ready? Good:
It was ugly.
-In a related story, I’m now off relationships – for at least a little while. What does that mean? Well, for one thing it means that Tattoo Guy is getting no more than three dates out of me (what – I’m not dead), and then he’s hitting the road. It also means that my mom is going to be pissed. But to me it means that I’m just going to relax and enjoy my singledom (is that a word?). I need some rest people, and honestly – except for the obvious physical benefits of being in a relationship – I much prefer being single. I am not one of those girls who can’t stand being alone and jumps from boyfriend to boyfriend (to avoid spending any real time relying on myself) – I’d fucking shoot myself if I was. So…um…FYI.
-The subways all over Manhattan were down yesterday thanks to 3 inches or rain in a half-hour’s time (oh, and apparently a tornado or two). Being that I live uptown, my office is in Soho, it was hot as hell yesterday - and the city’s transportation system had deteriorated into one big clusterfuck - I never made it into work. I did however get to spend the entire day on my computer at home trying to put out fires (I’m talking metaphorical fires for the morons out there) over email. Ever try to yell at DHL about a lost package over email? Yeah, it’s completely pointless – the very definition of ‘an exercise in futility.’ Now why didn’t I just use my phone you ask? Why didn’t I call them up and demand to speak to a human being? Well, thanks to a little thing I like to call My Life Sucks, my cell phone chose yesterday to crap out on me. So I had no way of contacting anyone in any real way. (I feel like I need a drink even now - I had a few yesterday - just thinking about that.)
-On Tuesday I got the fun job of firing this really young, really sweet, and TOTALLY incompetent editor that we had working on a special project for us. And…it sucked. I mean, she clearly deserved to be fired (honestly, she had to be the most half-assed worker I’ve ever seen – and I write a blog while I’m at work), but the actual act of firing her – someone who has done nothing but frustrate and piss me off for weeks now – was still a complete downer. (Oh, and now I have all of two days to find a replacement for her – FUCK.)
-Well, I’ve officially been taken off of Christine’s Match.com search –sorry guys. It seems that I committed a huge no-no when I replied to one of her admirers with a rather succinct and (in my opinion) accurate assessment of his character. Want to know what I wrote? Cool, let me just make sure I get the wording exactly right…OK, here it is:
“You’re a douchebag.”
Yeah…that um….that didn’t go over so well. (Although what the fuck was Christine thinking when she asked me to go through her Match.com emails the day after I’d gone through one of the uglier breakups in the history of mankind? I’m only taking so much responsibility here.) Anyway, things really went bad for me when Douchebag replied to Christine with a rather long, mean (could he have overreacted more?), and whiny email. And since Christine wasn’t aware that I had instigated this at the time (I meant to give her a heads up – I swear), she got pissed and reported this guy to Match. He then was notified, and in retaliation he reported her.
THEN she told me what was going on and I explained things…
So…yeah, I’m off the case. It’s probably for the best – I’m in no shape to be running ANYONE’S love life right now. (Although in my defense, it was probably WAY past time someone told Douchebag what a prick he was.) Still…my bad.
-On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being You’re Great and 1 being You’re Fucked, where do you think my karma is right now? Never mind, don’t answer that.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Politically Incorrect
There are times when I really wonder if it’s safe for me and Christine to spend a lot of time together – case in point: Sunday Brunch.
So yeah, Christine and I have been spending a lot of time together lately (I think this is because her roommate’s such a prick and she never wants to go home), and Sunday was no different. Only this time we decided to do something together besides go to a bar…so we went to brunch instead (which, not surprisingly, involved cocktails). Anyway, even without large quantities of alcohol, we found MANY things to talk about – not sure all women are like this, but man do our topics get out of control when there are no boys around. Case in point: Below are some of the things we covered over our two (three?) hour brunch.
Note: Shockingly, we never actually got drunk during this breakfast – in other words, all of these subjects were discussed stone cold sober:
-Top 5 men we want to sleep with – this is something we cover all the time, but since we’re both incredibly fickle, the lists are ever changing.
Christine’s list:
1. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
2. Matthew Goode (he was in Match Point with Rhys Meyers – I get the feeling that film gets a lot of play over at Christine’s)
3. Michael Vartan
4. Colin Farrell
5. Simon Baker
Redhead’s list:
1. Michael Vartan (Christine and I have been known to fight over him)
2. Channing Tatum (seriously ladies, watch the movie She’s the Man – you’ll thank me)
3. Clive Owen
4. Alex Rodriguez (shut up, shut up, shut up)
5. Russell Crowe (he’s the one that ALWAYS makes my list – Christine doesn’t see it)
-What girls would we be willing to sleep with? (Note: This conversation would have been much more interesting if Christine and I were even remotely into girls. Unfortunately – as so many of our boyfriends have complained – we’re not.)
Christine:
1. Angelina Jolie (even though she’s a little scary)
2. Jessica Alba (to see if her body’s really as perfect as it looks)
3. Scarlett Johansson (surprise, surprise – she’s in Match Point too)
Redhead:
1. Charlize Theron (because she’s so pretty, I think I could close my eyes and fake it)
2. Jessica Alba (yeah, I also want to see if there are any flaws)
3. N/A (I couldn’t come up with a third)
-Flight of the Conchords. I don’t know how, but for some reason Christine and I had never talked about the show before. I’m sure you guys find that shocking since I shove the show down your throats on a weekly basis. (Hey, did you see Sunday’s episode? Fucking awesome – go home and watch it, I beg you.)
Anyway as you guys know I’m a HUGE fan, so when Christine brought it up – and mentioned that she fucking LOVES that show – we were off. (Note: Yet another reason why we’re such good friends – I think it takes a certain personality to not only like that show, but to immediately fall in love with it. We both are obsessed; trust me, it says a lot about us.)
The conversation only got creepy when Christine revealed that she has a wee bit of a crush on the show’s two stars – Bret and Jermaine. And when I say a ‘wee bit of a crush,’ what I mean to say is ‘I think I should keep an eye on her to avoid having to bail her out of jail for stalking.’ I’m not even really kidding when I say that. On the plus side, at least I FINALLY found someone (yes, that’s a dig at you guys) to talk to about the show. So yay.
-Gay porn (don’t ask). Essentially – and I think it came out of our discussion over what women we would do (see above) – we talked about how much hotter the idea of two guys together was (as opposed to two girls). That got Christine going about something she’d seen on YouTube a while back. Um…how to put this…hmmm? OK, I’ll just come out with it – apparently there is a version of the show Jesus Christ Superstar (shut up) on YouTube that has a VERY homoerotic Jesus/Judas undertone (yeah, yeah, Redhead’s going to hell, blah, blah, blah – let me point out that this was all Christine’s fault).
Either way, Christine was adamant that it was a total turn on. I just shook my head. Then yesterday, she emailed me the link. I watched it…and couldn’t stop laughing; I was at my desk at work (seriously, I’m going to get fired soon). She claims I was laughing because Judas was dressed all in leather and Jesus looked like Fabio. I’ll agree that may have had something to do with it. But did I think it was hot? No way. But she did. And if that turned her on, I can only imagine what real gay porn would do – so I think I’m going to get Christine some for her birthday. Am I a good friend or what?
-What the fuck is up with some girls? OK, let me explain: As we were sitting there having breakfast, group after group of girls came in to meet up, have brunch, etc. And they all hugged (some even kissed each other on the cheek) when they got there – it was like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Christine and I have always been baffled by this phenomenon. I mean, why do chicks do this? Most of them haven’t seen each other in a few days, a week tops. Do they really need to hug? And do they need to giggle that much too? What’s the fucking point? It’s annoying.
This got us on the topic of girls who bring cameras everywhere – including bars on Saturday nights. What the fuck is up with that? Am I the only one who fucking wants to tear her hair out when someone asks me to pose for a picture at 1 in the morning? Can someone explain the logic here to me? (I realize I may lose my girl card over this little rant, but I honestly don’t get it – and SO MANY girls are guilty of the above offenses. Explain it to me, please.)
-Christine’s Match.com quest for a worthwhile man. Some more comments on pictures/profiles: Ummm…guys, I think Christine and I know why some of you are still single. For the guys who insist on putting pictures of themselves up where they’re wearing Halloween costumes – stop, you look like an asshole. For the guys who put up pictures of themselves decked out in various fashion faux pas – unless you’re really hot (in which case the discussion then turns to how fixable you are and whether you’re worth the effort), a picture of you wearing something as unforgivable and hideous as jean shorts should never make it onto the Internet. The fact that you put it up yourself as an advertisement for…well, YOU…that’s inexcusable. Stop it. Right now.
Oh, and the guys who – after just a short perusal of your photos and your About Me intro…shit, how do I say this? OK, I’m just going to say it – if Christine and I can tell within just a few seconds that you’re gay, than other people can too. That’s why women aren’t responding. It’s not because you’re not hot (most of the time you really, really are), but women aren’t looking to waste their time. So quit filling out the Man Seeking Woman tag, mkay?
Cool, that’s it for me today – I’m swamped at work this week. How’s everyone else doing?
So yeah, Christine and I have been spending a lot of time together lately (I think this is because her roommate’s such a prick and she never wants to go home), and Sunday was no different. Only this time we decided to do something together besides go to a bar…so we went to brunch instead (which, not surprisingly, involved cocktails). Anyway, even without large quantities of alcohol, we found MANY things to talk about – not sure all women are like this, but man do our topics get out of control when there are no boys around. Case in point: Below are some of the things we covered over our two (three?) hour brunch.
Note: Shockingly, we never actually got drunk during this breakfast – in other words, all of these subjects were discussed stone cold sober:
-Top 5 men we want to sleep with – this is something we cover all the time, but since we’re both incredibly fickle, the lists are ever changing.
Christine’s list:
1. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
2. Matthew Goode (he was in Match Point with Rhys Meyers – I get the feeling that film gets a lot of play over at Christine’s)
3. Michael Vartan
4. Colin Farrell
5. Simon Baker
Redhead’s list:
1. Michael Vartan (Christine and I have been known to fight over him)
2. Channing Tatum (seriously ladies, watch the movie She’s the Man – you’ll thank me)
3. Clive Owen
4. Alex Rodriguez (shut up, shut up, shut up)
5. Russell Crowe (he’s the one that ALWAYS makes my list – Christine doesn’t see it)
-What girls would we be willing to sleep with? (Note: This conversation would have been much more interesting if Christine and I were even remotely into girls. Unfortunately – as so many of our boyfriends have complained – we’re not.)
Christine:
1. Angelina Jolie (even though she’s a little scary)
2. Jessica Alba (to see if her body’s really as perfect as it looks)
3. Scarlett Johansson (surprise, surprise – she’s in Match Point too)
Redhead:
1. Charlize Theron (because she’s so pretty, I think I could close my eyes and fake it)
2. Jessica Alba (yeah, I also want to see if there are any flaws)
3. N/A (I couldn’t come up with a third)
-Flight of the Conchords. I don’t know how, but for some reason Christine and I had never talked about the show before. I’m sure you guys find that shocking since I shove the show down your throats on a weekly basis. (Hey, did you see Sunday’s episode? Fucking awesome – go home and watch it, I beg you.)
Anyway as you guys know I’m a HUGE fan, so when Christine brought it up – and mentioned that she fucking LOVES that show – we were off. (Note: Yet another reason why we’re such good friends – I think it takes a certain personality to not only like that show, but to immediately fall in love with it. We both are obsessed; trust me, it says a lot about us.)
The conversation only got creepy when Christine revealed that she has a wee bit of a crush on the show’s two stars – Bret and Jermaine. And when I say a ‘wee bit of a crush,’ what I mean to say is ‘I think I should keep an eye on her to avoid having to bail her out of jail for stalking.’ I’m not even really kidding when I say that. On the plus side, at least I FINALLY found someone (yes, that’s a dig at you guys) to talk to about the show. So yay.
-Gay porn (don’t ask). Essentially – and I think it came out of our discussion over what women we would do (see above) – we talked about how much hotter the idea of two guys together was (as opposed to two girls). That got Christine going about something she’d seen on YouTube a while back. Um…how to put this…hmmm? OK, I’ll just come out with it – apparently there is a version of the show Jesus Christ Superstar (shut up) on YouTube that has a VERY homoerotic Jesus/Judas undertone (yeah, yeah, Redhead’s going to hell, blah, blah, blah – let me point out that this was all Christine’s fault).
Either way, Christine was adamant that it was a total turn on. I just shook my head. Then yesterday, she emailed me the link. I watched it…and couldn’t stop laughing; I was at my desk at work (seriously, I’m going to get fired soon). She claims I was laughing because Judas was dressed all in leather and Jesus looked like Fabio. I’ll agree that may have had something to do with it. But did I think it was hot? No way. But she did. And if that turned her on, I can only imagine what real gay porn would do – so I think I’m going to get Christine some for her birthday. Am I a good friend or what?
-What the fuck is up with some girls? OK, let me explain: As we were sitting there having breakfast, group after group of girls came in to meet up, have brunch, etc. And they all hugged (some even kissed each other on the cheek) when they got there – it was like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Christine and I have always been baffled by this phenomenon. I mean, why do chicks do this? Most of them haven’t seen each other in a few days, a week tops. Do they really need to hug? And do they need to giggle that much too? What’s the fucking point? It’s annoying.
This got us on the topic of girls who bring cameras everywhere – including bars on Saturday nights. What the fuck is up with that? Am I the only one who fucking wants to tear her hair out when someone asks me to pose for a picture at 1 in the morning? Can someone explain the logic here to me? (I realize I may lose my girl card over this little rant, but I honestly don’t get it – and SO MANY girls are guilty of the above offenses. Explain it to me, please.)
-Christine’s Match.com quest for a worthwhile man. Some more comments on pictures/profiles: Ummm…guys, I think Christine and I know why some of you are still single. For the guys who insist on putting pictures of themselves up where they’re wearing Halloween costumes – stop, you look like an asshole. For the guys who put up pictures of themselves decked out in various fashion faux pas – unless you’re really hot (in which case the discussion then turns to how fixable you are and whether you’re worth the effort), a picture of you wearing something as unforgivable and hideous as jean shorts should never make it onto the Internet. The fact that you put it up yourself as an advertisement for…well, YOU…that’s inexcusable. Stop it. Right now.
Oh, and the guys who – after just a short perusal of your photos and your About Me intro…shit, how do I say this? OK, I’m just going to say it – if Christine and I can tell within just a few seconds that you’re gay, than other people can too. That’s why women aren’t responding. It’s not because you’re not hot (most of the time you really, really are), but women aren’t looking to waste their time. So quit filling out the Man Seeking Woman tag, mkay?
Cool, that’s it for me today – I’m swamped at work this week. How’s everyone else doing?
Friday, August 3, 2007
Life Update
Quick update on my life, and then I’m going to go back to being hungover:
Christine and I went out drinking last night (I think we all remember what happened the last time we grabbed a drink), BUT FIRST we went to see Harry Potter. Um…how do I say this tactfully?...nope, can’t say it tactfully – I wanted to fuck Harry Potter.
OK, let me rephrase: I found myself VERY attracted to the actor who plays Harry Potter – Daniel Radcliffe. Now for a fan of the books – and someone who has seen every one of the Potter movies – that can be a little disconcerting. Why? Well, the movies started when Radcliffe was like 12. Fucking 12! I REMEMBER what he looked like back then. Sure, he’s grown up (aka legal) now, but…God, I’m going to hell.
So we’re sitting in the movie theater, and I realize the direction my thoughts are going. Now instead of keeping it to myself (discretion – what’s that?), I turn to Christine and whisper in her ear something along the lines of, “Am I loosing it or has Harry Potter gotten hot?” Mistake # 1: Even letting Christine know what was going on in my head. Mistake #2: Saying Harry Potter had gotten hot rather than saying Daniel Radcliffe had gotten hot – I’m not sure why this is, but it just sounds a LITTLE less wrong when I’m not using the name of a beloved children’s book character.
Anyway, Christine didn’t miss a beat before shouting (in the movie theater!), “Oh my God, you’ve become a dirty old woman.” I opened my mouth to argue, but…fuck, she was right. I mean, just moments before I HAD been fantasizing about engaging in lewd acts with Harry Potter (shit, sorry – Daniel Radcliffe).
Radcliffe (incidentally), turned 18 LAST WEEK. This is a boy who – if I ever met him, lost my mind, and picked him up – probably wouldn’t even know what to do with me. FUUUCCCKKKKKK!
So after the movie ended, it was clear I desperately needed some grown up time – we went to a bar. Once there, it was a bit of a horror show in the beginning. (Note: Grown up time can suck.) Why? Well, I got another doozy of a pickup line. (How does this always happen to me?) Want to hear it? Cool, it went something like: I want to fuck you so hard – maybe in the ass.
No, I’m not kidding or exaggerating. I’d actually met the guy who uttered this beaut only about 20 minutes before he delivered it. Christine almost died. Thankfully, I was already halfway through my second drink (yes, in 20 minutes – dirty old women sometimes need to drink hard), so I was barely fazed. I simply gave the guy a head tilt (kind of like I was trying to figure out what he was on) and then moved on to his friend. That guy was better (of course, it would have been shocking if he wasn’t).
Long story short, I met ANOTHER guy while at the bar – not part of the first (shockingly bad line) group. He was…(girly sigh) about six feet tall, short brown hair, blue eyes, incredibly hot body, and the most badass tattoo on his arm I have ever seen.
You see, I kind of saw it peaking out of his shirt collar when we started talking but held myself back from saying anything. However, after a couple more drinks (hence, my current hangover) I was finally ready to see the merchandise (so to speak). And it turned out to be even better than I expected (I fucking LOVE tattoos). Now I didn’t see all of it – he just pulled the neck of his shirt over so I could check out the shoulder and top of his arm – but what I did see…(am I drooling?).
So…um…eventually it came time to leave, and I went to give Tattoo Guy my number (yes, I gave him my number – yes, I realize I need to break up with NY Guy ASAP), only he wouldn’t let me leave just like that – he wanted plans for a date AND my number. So…(clearing throat and looking away)…we’re going out next Thursday. (That’s enough time to take care of my shitstorm of a personal life – that I created – right?)
Anyway…
Oh, and then Tattoo Guy called me an hour or two after I left the bar – he’d just gotten home and said he couldn’t wait to speak to me again. We talked for about an hour before I finally told him I had to go to bed. (Another sigh.)
Anyway, yeah – that’s what’s going on in my life. I’m a dirty old woman (probably going to hell), I’m like a magnet for horrifying, horrifying pickup lines, and I TOTALLY have a HUGE crush right now on a new guy. So…how’s everyone else doing? Looking forward to a good weekend? Anything new you want to tell me?
Christine and I went out drinking last night (I think we all remember what happened the last time we grabbed a drink), BUT FIRST we went to see Harry Potter. Um…how do I say this tactfully?...nope, can’t say it tactfully – I wanted to fuck Harry Potter.
OK, let me rephrase: I found myself VERY attracted to the actor who plays Harry Potter – Daniel Radcliffe. Now for a fan of the books – and someone who has seen every one of the Potter movies – that can be a little disconcerting. Why? Well, the movies started when Radcliffe was like 12. Fucking 12! I REMEMBER what he looked like back then. Sure, he’s grown up (aka legal) now, but…God, I’m going to hell.
So we’re sitting in the movie theater, and I realize the direction my thoughts are going. Now instead of keeping it to myself (discretion – what’s that?), I turn to Christine and whisper in her ear something along the lines of, “Am I loosing it or has Harry Potter gotten hot?” Mistake # 1: Even letting Christine know what was going on in my head. Mistake #2: Saying Harry Potter had gotten hot rather than saying Daniel Radcliffe had gotten hot – I’m not sure why this is, but it just sounds a LITTLE less wrong when I’m not using the name of a beloved children’s book character.
Anyway, Christine didn’t miss a beat before shouting (in the movie theater!), “Oh my God, you’ve become a dirty old woman.” I opened my mouth to argue, but…fuck, she was right. I mean, just moments before I HAD been fantasizing about engaging in lewd acts with Harry Potter (shit, sorry – Daniel Radcliffe).
Radcliffe (incidentally), turned 18 LAST WEEK. This is a boy who – if I ever met him, lost my mind, and picked him up – probably wouldn’t even know what to do with me. FUUUCCCKKKKKK!
So after the movie ended, it was clear I desperately needed some grown up time – we went to a bar. Once there, it was a bit of a horror show in the beginning. (Note: Grown up time can suck.) Why? Well, I got another doozy of a pickup line. (How does this always happen to me?) Want to hear it? Cool, it went something like: I want to fuck you so hard – maybe in the ass.
No, I’m not kidding or exaggerating. I’d actually met the guy who uttered this beaut only about 20 minutes before he delivered it. Christine almost died. Thankfully, I was already halfway through my second drink (yes, in 20 minutes – dirty old women sometimes need to drink hard), so I was barely fazed. I simply gave the guy a head tilt (kind of like I was trying to figure out what he was on) and then moved on to his friend. That guy was better (of course, it would have been shocking if he wasn’t).
Long story short, I met ANOTHER guy while at the bar – not part of the first (shockingly bad line) group. He was…(girly sigh) about six feet tall, short brown hair, blue eyes, incredibly hot body, and the most badass tattoo on his arm I have ever seen.
You see, I kind of saw it peaking out of his shirt collar when we started talking but held myself back from saying anything. However, after a couple more drinks (hence, my current hangover) I was finally ready to see the merchandise (so to speak). And it turned out to be even better than I expected (I fucking LOVE tattoos). Now I didn’t see all of it – he just pulled the neck of his shirt over so I could check out the shoulder and top of his arm – but what I did see…(am I drooling?).
So…um…eventually it came time to leave, and I went to give Tattoo Guy my number (yes, I gave him my number – yes, I realize I need to break up with NY Guy ASAP), only he wouldn’t let me leave just like that – he wanted plans for a date AND my number. So…(clearing throat and looking away)…we’re going out next Thursday. (That’s enough time to take care of my shitstorm of a personal life – that I created – right?)
Anyway…
Oh, and then Tattoo Guy called me an hour or two after I left the bar – he’d just gotten home and said he couldn’t wait to speak to me again. We talked for about an hour before I finally told him I had to go to bed. (Another sigh.)
Anyway, yeah – that’s what’s going on in my life. I’m a dirty old woman (probably going to hell), I’m like a magnet for horrifying, horrifying pickup lines, and I TOTALLY have a HUGE crush right now on a new guy. So…how’s everyone else doing? Looking forward to a good weekend? Anything new you want to tell me?
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Well That’s Embarrassing
So I’m sitting at my desk at the end of the day yesterday, minding my own business, when I realized I had to pee. Since I generally have to pee every hour on the hour (what the fuck is UP with that by the way?), I thought nothing of it and headed for the bathroom. Walking into a stall, I closed the door and, you know, peed. Pretty normal so far, right? Yeah, it was.
(Totally random aside: Do you ever find it hard to pee in a public bathroom if there is someone else in there? I mean, it’s totally quiet yet you know someone else is there, and you’re sitting there trying to pee – yes, I realize this is a horrifying topic – and you just CAN’T. It’s like there is too much pressure on you (me) or something. Am I the only one this happens to? I mean, no matter how badly I have to go, I can’t. I find myself just waiting for everyone to leave. My mother calls it my ‘bashful bladder.’ Doesn’t it make sense that all public bathrooms should have some music playing in the background or something? For privacy. So um…am I the only one who has this problem?)
Anyway, so there I was reaching out and preparing to fight with the toilet paper dispenser (that crappy cheap toilet paper just tears and doesn’t roll out when in the fucking dispenser – I always find myself tearing off little scraps, trying to get the equivalent of just a few fucking squares), when the dispenser freaking explodes on me. Well, maybe not explodes. Just flies open unexpectedly. Right into my arm. And it’s metal.
That goddamn fucking dispenser ripped my arm open. I mean, it TORE the skin off my forearm – I freaking looked like I had tried to slash my wrist or something. And it HURT.
So of course I immediately freaked out, started cursing, and frantically tried to tear a roll of toilet paper out to staunch the flow the blood. Frantically pulling my skirt down and flushing, I rushed out and went to the sink to try to clean up some of the blood.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t really paying attention to much else beyond my arm.
So, I left the bathroom and immediately went into the kitchen area on my floor to a) get to the first aid kit that we keep there which (sadly – I can be accident prone) I already know stocks both Neosporin and band aids, and b) bitch to anyone who was there (the kitchen is a place that always has a few people around) about how the bathroom had attacked me.
What I didn’t notice – as I went into one of the most heavily populated areas in my office – was that I had tucked the back of my skirt into my underwear. My Tomboy underwear with the Tonka trucks all over them (shut up) if you want to get specific about it.
Apparently, everyone else did notice. And it only took about 5 minutes before someone told me – five minutes of me making myself the center of attention, but whatever.
Quick note: As luck would have it, I was wearing a new sundress yesterday. It was pretty and flowy and nothing like what I normally wear – I’m more of a jeans (yes, we mainly wear jeans in my office) or (if I’m wearing a skirt) pencil skirt type person. I don’t wear gauzy and flowy, I wear fitted and body conscious. The major plus to these types of clothes – on a normal day I would TOTALLY notice if my skirt was up above my undies. With a flowy dress…not so much.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I was in the kitchen telling everyone about my brush with the toilet paper dispenser, when one of the women from my group walked in, took one look at me (she came in behind me, where my behind was facing the open door for everyone to see as they walked by), and immediately walked over and whispered in my ear that my ass was hanging out.
Um…
Turning bright red, I reached back to check and…yup, my butt was bare. Silently thanking God for all the lunges and squats I do even though I hate them (hell, if I’m going to be flashing the world I want to at least take solace in the fact that my ass looks good), I quickly grabbed the skirt of my dress and tugged. I didn’t even try to hide what I was doing – fuck it, everyone knew anyway. Fuck, I thought. That explained why no one had seemed to care about my story. It did make me regret how – in an effort to really capture the drama of my experience – I had been gesticulating wildly and generally doing everything I could to get them to pay MORE attention to me.
I’m a moron.
Realizing that I needed to say or do something now (my audience was waiting after all), I thought, and thought, and thought, and finally just gave up, shrugged, and hauled ass (no pun intended) out of there (my pride was a distant memory at that point anyway). And (of course) walked straight into the ONE cute, straight, single guy in the office.
Now I normally flirt with this guy (he’s really cute), even though I would never date someone I work with. I do it because he’s fun and he seems to like me. But not yesterday. Not after the Great Ass Debacle. Oh no. Yesterday I barely acknowledged him as I RAN back to my desk, quickly turned off my computer, grabbed my bag, and left. Hell, sometimes you have to just tuck your tail between your legs and GET THE FUCK OUT.
So that’s my story – just a typical Tuesday in the life of Redhead. I am a fucking rock star. So, how’s your week been so far guys?
(Totally random aside: Do you ever find it hard to pee in a public bathroom if there is someone else in there? I mean, it’s totally quiet yet you know someone else is there, and you’re sitting there trying to pee – yes, I realize this is a horrifying topic – and you just CAN’T. It’s like there is too much pressure on you (me) or something. Am I the only one this happens to? I mean, no matter how badly I have to go, I can’t. I find myself just waiting for everyone to leave. My mother calls it my ‘bashful bladder.’ Doesn’t it make sense that all public bathrooms should have some music playing in the background or something? For privacy. So um…am I the only one who has this problem?)
Anyway, so there I was reaching out and preparing to fight with the toilet paper dispenser (that crappy cheap toilet paper just tears and doesn’t roll out when in the fucking dispenser – I always find myself tearing off little scraps, trying to get the equivalent of just a few fucking squares), when the dispenser freaking explodes on me. Well, maybe not explodes. Just flies open unexpectedly. Right into my arm. And it’s metal.
That goddamn fucking dispenser ripped my arm open. I mean, it TORE the skin off my forearm – I freaking looked like I had tried to slash my wrist or something. And it HURT.
So of course I immediately freaked out, started cursing, and frantically tried to tear a roll of toilet paper out to staunch the flow the blood. Frantically pulling my skirt down and flushing, I rushed out and went to the sink to try to clean up some of the blood.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t really paying attention to much else beyond my arm.
So, I left the bathroom and immediately went into the kitchen area on my floor to a) get to the first aid kit that we keep there which (sadly – I can be accident prone) I already know stocks both Neosporin and band aids, and b) bitch to anyone who was there (the kitchen is a place that always has a few people around) about how the bathroom had attacked me.
What I didn’t notice – as I went into one of the most heavily populated areas in my office – was that I had tucked the back of my skirt into my underwear. My Tomboy underwear with the Tonka trucks all over them (shut up) if you want to get specific about it.
Apparently, everyone else did notice. And it only took about 5 minutes before someone told me – five minutes of me making myself the center of attention, but whatever.
Quick note: As luck would have it, I was wearing a new sundress yesterday. It was pretty and flowy and nothing like what I normally wear – I’m more of a jeans (yes, we mainly wear jeans in my office) or (if I’m wearing a skirt) pencil skirt type person. I don’t wear gauzy and flowy, I wear fitted and body conscious. The major plus to these types of clothes – on a normal day I would TOTALLY notice if my skirt was up above my undies. With a flowy dress…not so much.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I was in the kitchen telling everyone about my brush with the toilet paper dispenser, when one of the women from my group walked in, took one look at me (she came in behind me, where my behind was facing the open door for everyone to see as they walked by), and immediately walked over and whispered in my ear that my ass was hanging out.
Um…
Turning bright red, I reached back to check and…yup, my butt was bare. Silently thanking God for all the lunges and squats I do even though I hate them (hell, if I’m going to be flashing the world I want to at least take solace in the fact that my ass looks good), I quickly grabbed the skirt of my dress and tugged. I didn’t even try to hide what I was doing – fuck it, everyone knew anyway. Fuck, I thought. That explained why no one had seemed to care about my story. It did make me regret how – in an effort to really capture the drama of my experience – I had been gesticulating wildly and generally doing everything I could to get them to pay MORE attention to me.
I’m a moron.
Realizing that I needed to say or do something now (my audience was waiting after all), I thought, and thought, and thought, and finally just gave up, shrugged, and hauled ass (no pun intended) out of there (my pride was a distant memory at that point anyway). And (of course) walked straight into the ONE cute, straight, single guy in the office.
Now I normally flirt with this guy (he’s really cute), even though I would never date someone I work with. I do it because he’s fun and he seems to like me. But not yesterday. Not after the Great Ass Debacle. Oh no. Yesterday I barely acknowledged him as I RAN back to my desk, quickly turned off my computer, grabbed my bag, and left. Hell, sometimes you have to just tuck your tail between your legs and GET THE FUCK OUT.
So that’s my story – just a typical Tuesday in the life of Redhead. I am a fucking rock star. So, how’s your week been so far guys?
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