Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Hello Everybody!!!!!!

I’m in a bizarrely good mood right now – not sure why, but let’s go with it. I’ve been having some thoughts on life, me, and whatnot lately. Yeah...so...:

-Computers hate me. No seriously, they turn on me every chance they get. Most recent example: I got a virus on my work computer last week, and it started to attack my company’s mainframe. The person I called in IT (I speak to her almost every other day as it is) could not stop laughing at me. Our computers are supposed to be very difficult to infect – or so they say. I didn't find it difficult at all; the one I picked up (somewhere, we’re not sure where) took them 2 DAYS to clear out. What can I say, I’m gifted.

-Boys are weird. So I went on a date Saturday night, and the guy spent an abnormally long time discussing my hands. And my fingers. I…wasn’t aware this was a fetish people had. I knew about the whole foot thing, but hands? Yeah, I finally had to kind of blurt out ‘Can we stop talking about my extremities?’ Which doesn’t make for a great date, but hey, the herbed French fries at the restaurant well made up for any awkwardness I had to endure.

-I’m completely out of Christmas gift ideas for my parents. What do you get people who already have everything? I’m running out of time here people! Help me!

-I may very well be attempting to eat my body weight in chocolate this holiday season – I’ll keep you all updated on my progress as I’m sure you want to know how that goes.

-I just bought a pair of 5 inch heeled Mary Jane’s. Now I ask you people, what does a woman who’s already 5’8" need with a pair of shoes that high? Am I trying to do my best impersonation of an Amazon? I’m starting to wonder if I truly do enjoy scaring men away. (Oh who am I kidding – of course I love scaring men.)

-I’m currently looking to buy an apartment – I figure hey, let’s jump in and take advantage of the current economic carnage. Having said that, I a) hate looking at apartments – that’s about as much fun to me as getting stabbed in the eye, and b) I feel a wave of nausea hit me every time I do the math on what the down payment would have to be on one of those places. Guh – maybe I’ll keep throwing my money away and renting.

-Christmas parties are the shit. I love open bars.

-So I think I’m being set up with a cop for New Year’s. What are the odds that I’ll say or do something during the course of the night that will get me arrested? Do cops often try to arrest the stupid/obnoxious girls they get fixed up with? This is kind of a departure from my usual type (lawyers, finance guys, and the occasional bartender for variety), but I’m sort of excited actually. Anyone have tips on what we can talk about? Besides the obvious of course: Want to show me your handcuffs?

-I was babysitting my nephews on Friday night, and the inevitable happened – I had to change a diaper. So there I was changing the diaper on the younger one, and his older brother was standing around waiting for me to finish. Now admittedly, my technique is not what it could be (I am intentionally out of practice), but I will say I was a little embarrassed when P (the older nephew), took one look at my handiwork and said, ‘You may want to use two Aunt Redhead. That one isn’t going to make it through the night.’ Schooled by a 3 year old. Story of my life.

-So it took me all of a week to lose the holder thingee that came with my new Blackberry. This means that instead of being safely ensconced in a protective shell, my Blackberry now spends its time bouncing around my purse being abused. It also means that sometimes the darn thing ends up calling people without my knowledge. (Note: I hate when people do this to me *cough, MOM, cough*.) Anyway, so apparently this happened to my sister yesterday. She got a call from my cell phone, answered, and instead of hearing my voice she got to listen to…I don’t know, the muffled sounds of the inside of my purse I guess.

Now as someone who’s gotten these annoying calls before, I realize there’s often a brief moment where you think ‘Either this moron called me without realizing it, or this person has been abducted and is calling me to save them.’ I normally decide it’s option 1 pretty quickly, but I am paranoid enough to always call the person back to make sure. My sister…well, not so much. I got a phone call at 9 last night that went a little something like this:

Sister: I’m just calling to make sure you’re alive.
Redhead: Yup, I’m alive. Why? Did you put a hit out on me?
Sister: Nope, I just got a muffled phone call from you at around 5. I figured you’d called by accident, but I just wanted to make sure.
Redhead: So you called 4 hours later?
Sister: Uh huh.
Redhead: Remind me never to call you if I’m stuffed in the trunk of a car.
Sister: Well I hope you’d call the police if you were stuffed in the trunk of a car.
Redhead: Fair point. So what’s up?

-Dog story of the post: We got S when I was 6 years old. T had passed away right before we moved into a new house, and my father had been VERY clear that he didn’t want to get a new puppy right away. We had just carpeted the whole place after all.

My mother listened…um, not at all. She essentially waited until my father had finished speaking, nodded her head that she understood, and left the room to make some phone calls about a litter of boxer puppies one town over. She then took me with her to pick out the new baby in the family.

S was so fucking cute. Just all gangly and drooly with her brindle fur, black face, and big brown eyes. Oh, and she had this bottom tooth that stuck out over her lip – it stayed that way throughout her life (no braces for her!). I loved her at first sight.

So my mother gathered up S and brought her home. When my father walked in the door after work that day, he saw my mother sitting there with a puppy in her arms. She had blatantly ignored him! And he was pissed for...roughly 30 seconds – that’s the amount of time it took for my mother to stand up, walk over, and place the new puppy in his arms. After that it was over; he was in love. Who can deny a boxer puppy after all?

More stories about S to come.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

(Clears Throat)

Hello…hello…anyone there? Sorry about the layoff – not sure if people are still reading this stupid blog, but if so an update:

-The family is doing much better after the loss of R. We still miss her, but we’ve moved into the ‘telling funny stories about her and remembering the good times’ stage – this isn’t hard since she was a nutter of the first order. I’ll be ending blog posts with dog stories for at least a little while. Oh, and my mom is already trolling Boxer Rescue sites looking at the puppies; my dad wants to wait until spring to get a new doggie, but I give my mom another month before she can’t stand NOT having a dog in the house.

-Thanksgiving was great – we ate ridiculous amounts of food, played with my nephews (fyi, my youngest nephew freaking LOVES me – the feeling is mutual – and we’ve now totally bonded…he has me completely wrapped around his finger), and drank heavily. It was awesome.

-It seems like a rule that no matter how old you get, your parents can still make you do things you don’t want to do. Case in point: Somehow my parents made us all (the ‘kids’ I mean), sit down for a picture that would go on (not in, ON) their Christmas card. How old are we? Well, besides the nephews, the youngest one in that picture was…me. Do people really want to see a card senders' fully grown children? I didn't think so - my mother is so strange. On the plus side, my aforementioned younger nephew totally blew off his own mother to sit on my lap. Yes, I’m that amazing.

-Went to a great restaurant not last weekend but the weekend before that, and they had fondue as one of the appetizers. Not to get all ‘70s on you people, but is there anything better than dipping stuff in melted cheese? If there is, I haven’t found it. Fucking awesome.

-Funniest night in a while yesterday. Went to dinner with some people that I used to work with – we all survived working for my last company, and that sort of bonded us; we meet every other month or so to catch up. Anyway, one of the people who was there was my old…well, I guess the only word for her is mentor. When I started out in publishing I was an editorial assistant and she was an executive VP. She was loud, she cursed A LOT, and she was (and is) freaking brilliant. Within 6 months of my arriving at the company she took me out to lunch and said ‘You’re too smart to be an assistant, I’m making you an editor.’ Seriously, does that shit ever happen in real life?

Anyway, my mentor was there – she’s 70 now and retired (only not really), still loud, still brash, and still fucking awesome. So I’m standing there talking to a guy I also used to work with (married, but male), and Mentor comes up to me and without any preamble at all says, ‘Redhead, I never realized what fabulous tits you have!’ Cue the guy I was talking to just turning beet red. Some background here – it was hot in the restaurant, so I had taken off my sweater and was just wearing a tank top. Obviously I never wore tank tops to work, so that part of my anatomy had never been quite as on display as it was at that moment…I guess. Either way, nothing Mentor says really shocks me anymore, but that one did the trick. Married Guy (who had been drinking) recoved enough to freaking AGREE. And of course, this started a conversation amongst everyone about my physical attributes. Was this horribly embarrassing? Yes. But I did get to hear that my hair reminds someone of a ‘pre-Raphaelite painting.’ I would have preferred Titian, but beggars can’t be choosers.

On a side note, yes, I’m as surprised as you are that Mentor has never been sued for sexual harassment. I mean, I don’t think she should be – she never means to make anyone uncomfortable, we’re all just too goddamn sensitive – but still…she truly doesn’t edit ANYTHING that comes out of her mouth.

-I just read all of the Stephanie Meyer vampire books – TWILIGHT etc. – and I have to say…I don’t get it. I’m not going to ruin anything here (not that I imagine you guys are into those kinds of books, but I DO work in children’s books, and I kind of wanted to know what all the fuss was about, so…), but what the fuck?! With the exception of the first two books in the series (there are four), I actively disliked most of the characters. The first two books were nothing special, but fine. But the last two…?! I will say this and then I will stop – I don’t like Bella. At all. And Edward is a pussy. Okay, I’m done.

-My sister is back together with her boyfriend. I’ve stopped getting worked up over it. I barely blinked when they broke up after the election – yes, the douchebag actually broke up with her because she voted for Obama (see, I told you he was an asshole of epic proportions). But now…I’m fine. I see all of this as progress – on my part, obviously not on theirs since they’ve learned NOTHING in the past 3 years. But I digress…see how serene I am?

-For those who are wondering, my back is much better. This is all thanks for my grandmother and her magical prescription muscle relaxants that she ‘lent’ me. Yes, as I’ve taken to saying, my grandmother is now my drug dealer. Rock on.

-Today’s dog story: We got T before I was born – she was a boxer of course. So cute, so sweet, and such a boxer (for those who know the breed, you'll understand that comment). Whenever my mother came home from…wherever really, T would jump into her arms for a hug. Literally jump into her arms. My mother would come in the front door, and T would run up a few steps on the staircase, turn around, and leap into my mother’s arms. She would put one paw over each shoulder like she was trying to actually hug. My mother still jokes that it would make bringing home groceries MUCH more difficult, since if she didn’t grab onto T during one of those hugs, well, I’m sure you guys can figure out what would happen.

So damn cute.

Anyway, once I was born T decided that I must be hers. She would sleep beside my crib. She would follow me everywhere. She even tried to get me to share her food (thankfully I didn’t take her up on those offers…right Mom?!). She thought I was her puppy. So imagine her concern when I started to try to walk on two feet. She was baffled, and concerned. So concerned that every time I tried to stand she would, very gently, nudge me back to the ground. When I tried to simply sit up she would push me to all fours. She was…I guess…on a mission to make me normal. Sadly she failed as much as my parents did on that one. But damn, she was a good dog. And I did eventually learn to walk, so no harm no foul!

Is it any wonder I love animals with that kind of start in life?

Sidenote: For everyone who commented on my last post and didn't get a reponse, it wasn't because I wasn't really touched by what you said - I was upset and then I got really busy and then it seemed like I'd let too much time pass, and... Anyway, that's my typically awkward way of saying I really appreciated it, I loved reading your stories, and I suck.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I Hurt Right Now

I haven’t posted recently – I’m not going to apologize for it, I’ve had some personal stuff going on. And honestly I’m not really up to writing right now, but I will say this for those of you who have emailed me asking what’s up…

On Monday we put my dog, R, to sleep. I picked her out when I was in high school, I loved her more than I could ever love a person (probably because dogs can love more than people are truly capable), and I feel horrible right now. I know we did the right thing, but being a selfish person I still miss her and wish she was here. However she trusted us enough to know that we wouldn’t let her suffer, and we couldn’t and wouldn’t let her down. So for now I’m dealing with the occasional bouts of crying – my assistant was dumbfounded on Monday as she said ‘I didn’t even know you could cry’ – and I’m trying to compartmentalize and keep it together while at work.

My behavior may seem strange and like an overreaction to some, but to those people I simply say, Fuck You. My father cried on Monday; my father never cries. My grandmother cried when we told her; she didn’t cry when her husband of over 50 years died, because as she put it, ‘What does crying accomplish?’ My mother has commented that this is, ‘As hard – maybe harder – than when my mother died.’

R is not the first dog we’ve lost – her sister B passed away 2 ½ years ago and it was soul-destroying as well. We lost S and T before that, and those dogs practically raised me. And…it never gets any easier. As my mother put it, ‘The house always seemed like just the right size with dogs in it. Now it’s just…too big.’ I understand perfectly.

So to R, B, S, and T – I still love all of you, I miss you, and I didn’t deserve a fraction of the joy each of you gave me. This sucks, but I’d still do it all over again because the good times far outweighed the bad.

I may be telling some funny/cute/weird dog stories in the week to come, so if you’re not interested don’t bother stopping by. As for today, I’ll simply end with this: I loved them all as selflessly as I could. They were better at it, but I did my best.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

I Need Drugs

I did something to my back – not sure exactly what I did, but it hurts. As of right now I would describe it as a severe tightening of the muscles along my lower back (mainly right around my spine). However when I try to just work through it (ie. walk normally and not like someone who’s 97 years old) the muscles do tend to…well, I guess spasm is the word.

So…anyone have any suggestions on good over the counter drugs? I foresee a night of lying on the floor, popping Advil (or whatever you guys may recommend), and drinking wine in my future. That kind of sucks since I was planning on going to the Gelf Magazine-Varsity Letters thingamabob tonight, but…yeah, that’s not going to happen now. It sucks because this one had the potential to be really good – for those of you who are into sports/sports writing/sports blogs and are in the NYC area, I highly recommend it. Again, I will not be there as I will be at home tonight spending time studying my ceiling instead (and NOT in the fun way). Fuck my life is exciting. Still if you do go, send comments/notes.


Monday, November 3, 2008

No One Does Stupid Like I Do

At what point do you look at yourself and just say ‘WHAT am I doing?’ I ask this question as I ponder my weekend. It went a little something like this:

I got to choose the bar for Friday night, and being a glutton for punishment I chose our old standby – this place. Why? Well, why the fuck not? I was in a mood, was clearly looking for trouble, and at the time (Friday) couldn’t remember why I had to avoid one of my favorite places just because I had once slept with the bartender…and pissed off his girlfriend (who was not his girlfriend at the time!).

Anyway back to the story. So I recently realized (like, say, after Friday night) that I’ve become what is commonly referred to as a ‘lightweight.’ In other words, I was pretty well hammered after 2 (strong – I’m not making excuses but they WERE strong) drinks. FYI, this lightweight thing is inconvenient when you’re whole plan is to go out and drink all night. (Please feel free to mock me since I clearly deserve it.) It did however make it A LOT easier to do something stupid that I’d regret later. Cheaper too.

So there I was, quickly drunk at a bar filled with men who were conveniently also drinking, and WHO did I focus all of my attention on? A cute, single, nice guy perhaps? Nah, I don’t work that way. I sidled right up to the bar and started shamelessly flirting with The Bartender (I will say I was smart enough to make sure his girlfriend was nowhere in sight first), and at some point we hit on the great idea to get together the next night and ‘catch up.’

At that point you could say – well, Redhead obviously came to her senses the next morning and cancelled. Unfortunately you’d be wrong. I blame this on 3 things, 1) I’m not that smart, 2) his Irish accent (I really do love it), and 3) I would have felt guilty cancelling. You see, after we made our plans The Bartender went to some trouble to find someone to cover for him the next night (bartenders do tend to have to work on Saturdays after all). How could I have backed out once I sobered up knowing he’d given up a night of work (and tips) for me?

Still, loyalty only goes so far – I may have kept the date for Saturday night, but that didn’t stop me from flirting with EVERY guy at the bar on Friday night after making that date. Christine said I was in fine form (but for everyone out there who thinks I’m a whore, I would like to point out that I went home alone…yes, I’m a paragon).

The date with The Bartender on Saturday went fine by the way – we really do get along well. Now that doesn’t mean I trust him any farther than I can throw him (which is not at all), but if we could somehow come up with a way to just be friends…well, I think that would be nice. It will never happen, but it would be nice. (Oh, and I’m pretty sure he and his girlfriend are no longer together – I think. Okay fine, I didn’t really ask, but he did imply…ah fuck it, I’m just digging the hole deeper right now, aren’t I?)

But the best part of the whole weekend was Sunday! Because who should call me after my Moronic Extravaganza? Yup, that would be The Missing Dickhead Who Dumped Me! I blame the fact that he woke me from a nap for why I answered the phone at all. Anyway I’m kind of glad I did, because if I hadn’t I would have missed out on one of the more bizarre conversations ever, and that would have been too bad. Some highlights:

-He has a daughter. A 6 year old daughter. That was news to me.
-He only got divorced from the girl’s mother about 6 months ago. That was also news to me.
-His life is ‘complicated’ right now. (No fucking shit!)
-He’s sorry he didn’t tell me.
-He’s like us to be friends, but he’s not ready for a relationship right now.


Well, weekend’s over – back to work! Anyone else have a story to tell? Did any of you get arrested?

Friday, October 31, 2008

Ego? What's That?

So I had a phone interview with this guy last night – he’s sort of infamous and I just wrote a book proposal about him (that’s all I’m going to say about it). Anyway, about halfway through the interview I swear this dude started hitting on me. When he said the words ‘I can’t even count the number of women I’ve been with in my life,' I had to cover the phone because I started choking. So I send an email to Christine this morning telling her the story – this was her response:

SEEEE? Some guys like you.

Shoot me. Shoot me now.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

I'm Cranky - Yeah, Yeah, What Else Is New?

Hmmm, how has my week been so far – let me count the ways:

1) Realized I’d been dumped, only not really since I just sort of stopped hearing from him and didn’t notice until the beginning of this week. Still, I kind of liked this guy, and I wasn’t the one who chose to end the relationship (or whatever it was, I mean we’d only been seeing each other for about a month…and I was gone for over a week of that, but…details), so that was kind of a first for me. Yes friends, this was the first time I’ve ever been “dumped.” Sure I’ve gone on first dates that never went anywhere, and I’ve liked guys who never liked me back, but normally once I snare a guy I have him until I…well, don’t want him anymore. This isn’t nearly as interesting as I thought it would be. Moving on…

2) The hard drive on my work computer crashed and I lost everything that wasn’t backed up to one of our servers. Basically that means I lost a shitload of contracts I had been working on, and I was without a computer at work for 2 days. Have you ever tried to work without a computer? Yeah, the easy way of describing it is this: You don’t.

3) One of the things I had backed up to a shared company server was some meeting notes I’d been working on for a few weeks now. Mysteriously those just disappeared too. Who the fuck did I piss off, and can I buy them a drink to make amends? Please?

4) Christine and I are going out drinking tomorrow night (Halloween) in an effort to drown my sorrow and celebrate the holiday. I plan on getting into A LOT of trouble – stay tuned for stories…assuming I don’t get myself arrested/pregnant/completely black out on the entire night.

5) Germany was great, although I mainly just spent the entire time I was there working. I will say this – the huge mugs of beer that cost less than a bottle of water are AWESOME, the fact that you can drink that beer while walking down the street in broad daylight is also AWESOME, the convention center in Frankfurt is mind bogglingly huge, and I impressed the shit out of my boss’ boss (and her boss as well). So at least that’s something positive.

Maybe I’ll have more stories tomorrow for you guys, maybe not. Anything happen with you all while I was gone? Any painful stories from your personal lives you want to commiserate on?

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

A Question That's Been Asked Before...A Lot

And the reasons why guys say shit like 'I'm really glad I'm here with you' and 'I'll call you,' before you NEVER hear from them again are...?

Oh yeah, I'm back everyone.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

If You Could See Me Right Now, You'd Ask What Was Wrong

Hi All-

I’m sorry I dropped off the face of the earth – I’m about to do it again. Long story short:

I’m leaving this weekend for Frankfurt (international book fair), and things at work have been…crazy.

My boss can’t go with me to Germany (personal stuff that has kept her out of the office recently and added significantly to my workload), so instead her boss and her boss’ boss are going with me. You people don’t know the meaning of the word pressure until you’ve spent 10 minutes alone with my boss’s boss (she is not a warm woman); I get to spend a week with her. Having meetings. Every half hour from 9-6 for 5 days in a row. No time for lunch or to, say, pee. And that's not counting the dinner meetings. God I'm tired just thinking about this.

I met someone. That’s all I want to say about it right now, but…I met someone.

I’m a little stressed out right now. In fact, I feel like I have a fist sitting in my stomach and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be feeling this way for the next week or so. Happy happy joy joy.

I'm sorry I haven't been responding to commenters (or emailers) recently, and I just want you to know it's not personal. I'm definitely reading what you're writing, it just seems so damn hard to find the time to respond lately. Next time just yell at me to get off my ass and say something - I'll probably listen.

Anyway, I imagine I’ll have more to say when I get back from overseas, but in the meantime – does anyone out there have any good stories to help me take my mind off of…me?

Friday, September 26, 2008

Some Friday Thoughts

NYC Weather Report: Today is wet, with a side of ‘holy fuck that’s a lot of rain.’ My socks are damp and I’m stuck in them for the rest of day; I hate that.

Song I Listened to This Morning and Enjoyed: Down In A Hole by Alice in Chains. Yeah, it’s been that kind of morning.

Moment I Realized I Should Have Been a Lawyer: When my boss brought me into a meeting yesterday to negotiate the specifics of a deal SHE was working on; she said I was the ‘expert.’ I just think she knows I'm willing to do her dirty work. Oh, and I hate to lose. Anyway long story short, when the dust had cleared and the other side had left, my boss turned to me and said simply, ‘You’re mean!’ She said it in kind of an admiring way, but still...no shit Sherlock.

Worst Grandchild in the World Award Goes To…: It was my grandmother’s birthday last week. She also ended up in the hospital a couple of days ago because she fainted. I FINALLY got around to calling her last night. And I honestly have no excuse. Admittedly I have some issues with her (which I won’t get into here), but still, she’s the only grandparent I have left now. And for the past few years she’s really been trying to fix things. So how do I repay that? By being a lazy asshole, that’s how.

Person I Have an Irrational Dislike For: David Blaine. I still don’t think I’m clear on what he does for a living. Anyone know?

Gratuitous Picture of a Hot Man…Because I Can: Michael Ballack (yet another soccer/football player).

Happy Friday everyone. Does anyone still read this blog?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008


Let me preface this post by saying I’m not boy crazy. Yes, I’ve dated a lot of men in the past (fuck it, I’m single and live in NYC), and yes, I flirt a lot. But trust me when I say I spend more nights sitting at home in my pajamas than I do going out and partying. OK, just wanted to get that out there before telling this story:

So I go to the elevator at the end of the day yesterday and am (as usual) not paying any attention when it comes. Basically this means I don’t look up when I step into the car because I’m too busy searching for my iPod (most often buried in my purse under lipstick, pens, random receipts, and tampons).

Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally look up and find myself standing next to a ridiculously hot guy. In a work elevator (that really never happens). Tall, dark, handsome, etc., etc. My first thought was ‘Damn, I hope he didn’t see the tampons.’ This was followed quickly by my second thought of ‘This guy looks kind of familiar, but I’m SURE I would’ve remembered him if we’d worked together...I think.’

So trying not to stare, I spent a couple of seconds trying to place him. Finally I gave up and decided we must have passed in the hallway at some point. And since we apparently work for the same company and all, it’s only right that I be friendly and say hello…

Redhead: Hi, I’m Redhead.
Gorgeous: Yeah, I know.
Redhead: (Quickly trying to figure out if this means we have worked together, or whether this means he’s gone out of his way to learn my name from someone else in the company, which would be AWESOME.)
Gorgeous: It’s been a while though. I didn’t know you were working here.
Redhead: (Huh, ookkkayyy. So I’m guessing this means we actually know each other. And we know each other from…nope. I have no FUCKING clue. SHIT! What do I say now? Do I pretend to remember him? And how exactly does one forget a hottie like this? Is this some sign of early senility? Should I be concerned? What the fuck is wrong with me?!)
(Long pause)
Redhead: Yeah, I’ve been here for about a year. You?
Gorgeous: A little less…

Blah, blah, blah. You get the point – I tried to make small talk on the LONGEST elevator ride ever, and then ran for it when we finally reached the lobby. And all the while I was wondering what my problem was. How had I forgotten this guy? And more importantly, WHERE did I know him from? It was like it was right on the tip of my tongue (or back of my brain – you know what I mean) and I COULDN’T GRAB IT! And it was driving me NUTS.

Finally, after going home, eating dinner, watching some tv, and relaxing enough to begin to fall asleep, it hit me…

HOLY SHIT! I DATED that guy. Years ago. And it was more than one date too. Yet I totally blanked on it, him, etc. Is that normal? In fact, let me pose the question again: What’s wrong with me?

Cliffs Notes version of how we met: A few years ago I was out with Christine celebrating my birthday. At some point we ended up a bar with a bunch of her business school friends. While in the middle of a conversation, Christine looked around, spotted someone, and said under her breath to me, ‘I just figured out what I’m giving you for you birthday.’

‘More drinks?’ I asked (see, I’m easy).

‘Nope,’ she replied, ‘better.’ And with that she called Gorgeous over – he was in her class at Columbia. She introduced us, made herself scarce, and I took care of the rest. He was a very, very nice present.

But as with all my relationships, it ended. I moved on, (apparently) forgot him, and was totally fine with that. Until now. Now I’ve been reminded of how cute he is (and what a spaz I am). And…yeah, I’m screwed.

Conclusion: This can really only go badly for me in the long run. Gorgeous works for the same company I do, I’ve already made a fool of myself in front of him once, I feel distinctly uncomfortable around him now, and I’m currently taking a break from men. Yeah. So…who wants to put odds on how long it will take me to do something (else) stupid? Anyone? Anyone?

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Girls Are Weird

There’s a girl in my office who’s getting married this weekend. She’s been planning the wedding for-fucking-ever, but I’m pretty good at tuning people out so it never really got on my nerves before now. (Generally speaking, if I’m not related to you or I’m not REALLY good friends with you, I don’t care what your dress looks like, what flowers you’re going to carry, or what ‘color-scheme’ you’re going for. That’s just an FYI.) But this week…holy shit.

Don’t get me wrong, I know weddings take a lot of planning, are (unnecessarily) expensive, and can stress a (relatively) normal person out. I understand all of this. I just don’t want to hear about it. But holy shit there are a lot of women who do.

Note: I’m not a monster or a bitter spinster, I swear to you I’m not, but I don’t understand big weddings. They just seem so wasteful. And yes, unnecessary. I say give me a beach, family, and a HUGE cake (shut up, we all have our thing), and I’d be good to go. It would be like a vacation/wedding, no superfluous people needed or invited. Perfect, right? But where was I?

Oh yes, the squealing. What’s with all the fucking squealing?

Let me explain – for the past 2 weeks, every time the bride-to-be has mentioned the wedding, all the women in the office have starting squealing. And it’s getting on my fucking nerves. I swear to God they’re making noises only dogs can hear. Is this a female thing? Please tell me I’ve never made those sounds in my life, I…I just couldn’t live with myself if I have. I mean, no wonder men think we’re all insane – at least a good majority of us just might be.

Horrifying thought for the day.

That is all.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

I Have a Death Wish

So I’ll admit, I was a little cranky this morning. I’m working on this freelance gig for a very demanding and more than a little eccentric guy, and it’s already starting to drive me insane (the dude emails and calls me up to 5 times a day – I’m writing a book proposal for him – and I don’t walk to ANYONE that much). Anyway, I’m using that as my defense. What happened, you ask? Well…

I’m standing on the train this morning, dealing with the usual subway bullshit, when this lardass woman who was sitting in front of me actually leaned forward in her seat (thereby forcing me to back up into the mass of humanity all around me or risk getting her face in my crotch), and stretched. I looked at her incredulously after this, and all she did was lower her eyes and pretend she didn’t realize what she’d done (pussy).

Meanwhile I was already annoyed with her, because there was a little 4-year-old boy STANDING next to me while this beached whale SAT. So I gave her my most withering look, said point blank to her face ‘Well, you do look like you need the extra room,’ and turned to find another place to stand (like far, far away from the scene of the crime).

I would like to point out at this juncture that the Massive Behemoth was not only fat, but she also looked kind of tough. Like she could kick my ass with one hand tied behind her back tough. Hell, she could sit on me and I’d probably expire. Yet still I opened my big mouth and insulted her.

And as I was walking away all I could think was ‘I’m going to die. I can’t believe I just did that!’ I mean, I’m a keep-my-mouth-shut-and-just-think-bad-thoughts type of person, ESPECIALLY on the train (in other words, I’m not stupid…normally). Yet this morning, not so much.

Long story short, I’m sitting here writing this post so it turns out she didn’t kill me. I also got some of my latent aggression out while scaring the shit out of myself, so I see that as a kind of positive exorcism. Hell, it might even end up being a good thing – I got my stupid out for the day before even hitting the office. How’s everyone else out there? Who else almost got their asses kicked before 8 in the morning? Anyone?

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

This Will Be Short

Hey, I'm about to run into meetings all day (literally - I have a 10am meeting and will not get a break until 5pm; on the plus side, I'm getting lunch out of the whole deal). But before I go, a thought:

I'm as big a fan of high heels as a woman can get - stilettos, chunky heels, pumps, boots - you name it, I enjoy wearing it. But the thing is, I know how to walk in heels. I roll from the support of the heel to the ball of my foot, and I keep my stride easy and even. THAT is what makes me look good in them. You know who doesn't look good in them? Women who can't walk in them. So to all the women out there who are wearing heels because they feel they should, but really have no idea how to choose said heels OR how to move in the right ones (thereby giving themselves the Mummy/Lurch Walk) - STOP. You don't look sexy, you look stupid. Get yourselves a pair of heels that are comfortable (the bottoms should give a little when you move), practice at home in them, and then ONLY if you truly feel comfortable after all of that, go out in public in them. I'm begging you - you're making me uncomfortable just watching you, and I can't imagine how stupid you must feel (you know you look stupid, right?). Okey doke?

That was my public service announcement for the day. Damn, now I'm late!

Friday, September 5, 2008

I’m Mean on Fridays

-OK, so not to be a bitch here (oh who am I kidding?), but who’s with me that Bristol Palin is batting WAY out of her league when it comes to her baby-daddy? This dude may be enjoying the attention now, and I’m sure he enjoyed the begetting of the child, but trust me – at some point he’s going to look over at this chick and think ‘I’m settling for THAT for the rest of my life?’

-Guys, you may not want to click this link. Ladies, what can I say to prepare you…? Nope, I’ve got nothing. I will only say that I found this picture of Luis Figo (soccer player)…intriguing.

-So my assistant went on a date last night, and like I asked her to (I didn’t think she’d actually do it) she took a picture of the dude and texted it to me so I could pass judgment within the comfort of my own home. However, it was what she wrote to go along with the picture that really said it all: ‘I’m asking all the questions.’ I totally understood. Men out there (and women too), the trick is to ask questions when out on a date! People like to talk about themselves, so get them talking. But for the morons in the audience, that goes both ways. If you don’t get asked questions in return for all your hard work, bail out. Losers are a dime a dozen, but the keepers are the ones who really want - and make an effort - to get to know you (and realize it when they’re NOT). I plan on meeting one someday. (A keeper, not a loser - I know TONS of losers.)

-Whoever invented the granola bar was a genius.

-Hey, did I mention to everyone that I’m going to Germany next month for work? My question here is, how can I go to the land of beer and brats and NOT eat the brats. That would just leave me with…ooh, hey, beer! Yeah, I’ll probably be okay.

-I totally just came into some paint, brushes, and a ‘practice pad’ of paper. You don’t realize it, but you have the next Bob Ross of art entertaining you right now. FYI.

-This is the kind of hard-hitting journalism I’ve come to expect from US Weekly.

-Oh, and will someone let me know when this chick finally SHUTS UP about her private life? NO ONE CARES!!!!!!!!! (Sorry I even linked to that – I didn’t bother to read what was written, but for some reason the title set me off.)

OK, I need to do some work now. Happy Friday everyone!

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Sometimes I’m Not So Cool

So I was just in a meeting, and it turns out I’m a moron. That’s actually the moral of the story – I decided to start with it rather than make you wait. Why am I a moron, you ask? Well, let’s just say the rep we were meeting with was this adorable…stud (there’s really no other word to use, sorry). Blond hair, kind of shy and awkward but smart and sexy as hell at the same time, REALLY nice hands (it’s a weird thing with me, shut up); suffice it to say, he was a nice package. And I am a sucker for a nice package.

On the other hand I was (am) just a spaz. Oh, I thought I was acting cool and in control at the time (I may be delusional), but it turns out... You see, I THOUGHT I was speaking normally, acting normally, and generally just coming across like a fully functioning adult. I thought I had stopped acting like an asshole around hot men way back in high school. But it TURNS OUT…not so much.

All I know is that the second Cute Rep was gone, my assistant turned to me and said ‘What was wrong with you in there?’

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

‘You weren’t making any sense. You normally come across like you have a brain. I don’t think some of what you said was even English!’

(OK, a) fuck, and b) no, my assistant isn’t even a little afraid of me.)

Cue me, staring dumbly.

‘So what’s up? Were you into him or something?’ she persisted.

‘I, um…I MAY have been attracted to the guy,’ I mumbled (turning about 12 shades of red). Mind you, this is the second time in roughly 2 weeks that she’s caught me flirting (well, we’re giving me a lot more credit than I deserve to call what I did today ‘flirting’) with a guy on the job. It goes without saying that this is not the example I want to be setting for her.

But I digress. Essentially, my points here are 1) I need to remember to act like I'm at work when I'm at work, 2) I am not always smooth with guys, 3) I am a freak and can make a fool of myself like nobody's business, and 4) I hope to never see this guy again (unless he thinks strange women who can't form coherent sentences are hot, because then...well then my friends, I am there).

Yeah. So...

Happy Wednesday everybody.

(Oh, and 2 posts in 1 day - suck on THAT complainers!)

I Promise This Is a One-Time Deal

I never discuss politics here. There are many reasons I have not in the past – if I think you people are sensitive about everyday stuff (and let’s face it, many of you are), I cannot imagine the shitstorm a political argument would create – but the honest to God truth for why I don’t discuss politics at this little site is simple: I get enough real life in real life; we don’t need to have deep and meaningful discussions when I can entertain you people with stories about what a dumbass I am. I like to keep this place pretty much ‘depth free’ – in other words, I enjoy just how shallow my little corner of the Internet can be. But sometimes I’m just too damn opinionated for my own good. So without getting too into my beliefs and political leanings here, let me just say the following and be done with it:

I could not be enjoying this (oh, and this) more.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

My Homage to Food Porn

I’m starving right now. I’ve been stuck in meetings all day, I have another one coming up, and I don’t have any cash on me to raid the vending machine. People, I have been reduced to trolling the Internet looking for PICTURES of food. I am a desperate woman who isn’t afraid to share that fact with the world.


God I miss pigs in a blanket.

I don’t know what those are, but they look awesome. Right?

Fuck I’m hungry.

Melty cheese just makes everything better.

I know I’m not allowed to eat these anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look.

Mmmm, pasta. I could eat like 12 plates of that...right now.

Hey, did you know Rugelach was spelled like it is? How weird is it that I did? Is anyone listening to me right now?

The only thing that’s missing here is a scoop of ice cream. Oh wait, I think there's one in the background. Fuck I’m hungry.

Okay, that’s it – oh wait, I’m going to need to end this right.

Aaannnddd, now I’m done. Sorry about that guys - sometimes I just need to use this site to vent.

Monday, August 25, 2008

This and That

Sooo…sorry about the not posting thing. My bad. Things have been a little nutso in Redheadland. Short version – I ripped a tooth in half, didn’t eat for a week, my jeans literally almost fell off while I was walking down the street two days ago (somehow they moseyed on past my – now quite pointy and scary looking – hipbones, and I almost dropped my coffee while making a grab for them), my parents are on vacation in paradise and DIDN’T invite me (the nerve), I may have made a move on another woman’s man (I’ll explain more in a bit, but yeah – oopsie), I think Christine’s not speaking to me but I can’t be bothered to call and find out, my assistant broke up with her long-term boyfriend and called ME in the middle of the night to talk about it (she said I always make her feel better – who knew?), a dude in my building quite possibly made a pass at me last week, and work has been a beast (how come things always go wrong all at the same time – and how hard is it to deliver books ON TIME?). So yeah – busy.

OK, a bit more in depth look at a few of the above (and some other random things because I have a short attention span):

-As some of you (those who read the comment sections around here) may have heard, I had the business lunch from hell a little over a week ago. Long story short, I bit into my salad, cracked a tooth, descended into a world of horrible, hideous, mind-numbing pain, but somehow managed to say nothing and act normal for the next HOUR AND A HALF because I didn’t want to ruin the lunch for everyone. (My assistant’s words, after we got back to the office and I told her what had happened, were ‘Are you serious? I had no idea – you must have the best poker face EVER!’) So yeah, first I cracked a tooth (I’d never done that before – people aren’t joking when they say that shit hurts), then I learned a harsh truth about dentists in NYC – they don’t work on Fridays in the summertime. I took me FOREVER to find one that was open.

Anyway, I still have to have a crown put in (to cover up the half a tooth they ended up having to rip out – hey, at least it didn’t end up being the whole tooth – and on the plus side it was the inside part that I lost, aka: the part that no one sees anyway), but onto the good news – I’m back on solid food again! Yeah baby! If you’ve ever had to settle for a smoothie when all you wanted was pizza, for a WHOLE WEEK, you know what kind of hell I was living in. Not that I’m complaining or anything, but…yeah, I’m complaining. So that’s my big dramatic story. What else…?

-There’s this guy at the office who’s…let’s just say very, very cute. So completely my type that it’s ridiculous – blonde hair (a personal weakness), muscular (great forearms), tall, these beautiful hazel eyes, and best of all just a very masculine vibe to him (no pretty-boy annoyingness here). Anyway, it wouldn’t be a lie to say that I was VERY pleased to see him last week on our warehouse trip. (My company likes to take groups of employees from the office to our warehouse every once in a while to see, well, where we keep the books – crazy idea for a book company, huh?) Where was I? Oh yeah, so I was psyched because who doesn’t like a little eye candy on a field trip?

And I knew that this guy could ONLY be eye candy. You know, because, um…well, this guy has a girlfriend. That I know. Pretty well actually. Because she works for the company too. On my (clears throat) floor to be precise. She super friendly – stops to chat all the time. Oh, and she really good friends with my boss! Yes, my boss. How ‘bout that?


In the interest of full disclosure, let me say that I noticed this guy before I knew he was anyone’s boyfriend – I’m talking months and months ago. I mean, he’s kind of the type of guy you notice. Or rather, he’s the type of guy I notice. And I didn’t realize that he was Girlfriend’s boyfriend until WAY after I knew I was attracted to him.

And it wasn’t my fault Girlfriend wasn’t on the warehouse trip. I mean sure, she had no more say in it than I did, but…ah fuck. OK, back to the story. So we’re at the warehouse, and I swear I tried to behave. I kept my distance for the first few hours, I didn’t really talk to Eye Candy or look at him or anything. I was SO good. But…he looked SO good. He’d gotten this great tan at some point recently, and he kept standing next to me while we took our tour. And…yeah, I guess I started flirting towards the end (I’m only human!). But I promise you that I tried to be subtle. You know, like I was doing it more for me than for him. And I really thought I’d succeeded. Except…yeah, my assistant was there too. And as she pointed out, she knows me too well. First, I got a sly little smile from her. Then I got an elbow nudge. Then I got a whispered, ‘You’re funny.’ And then:

Redhead: (Trying to look innocent) What?
Assistant: You know what.
Redhead: What?
Assistant: You’re hitting on another girl’s man.
Redhead: (Pausing, trying to look offended) How dare…okay yes. I am. Is it obvious?
Assistant: Nah, probably not to anyone but me.
Redhead: I swear I’m usually better behaved than this.

The conversation disintegrated from there. Somehow we hit on the fact that Eye Candy and Girlfriend had been together for 5 years (5 YEARS!), they were living together, but – even though both are in their 30s – they are still NOT engaged. My assistant concluded that he was ‘stealable.’ I…considered testing her theory to see if there was any truth to it. BUT I quickly came to my senses, stopped giving him the eye, and mentally kicked my own ass. I mean a) I don’t poach (really, I don’t…usually), b) we don’t know if they even believe in marriage, maybe they’re perfectly happy with where they are in the relationship, c) I don’t need that kind of bad karma, and d) talk about creating a bad work environment!

Still, I would like to do things to this guy. I won’t…but I’d like to. Does this make me a bad(der) person?

-I read a book over the weekend that I loved, loved, loved. It looks like chick lit, but it wasn’t annoying like most books in the genre. A mix of memoir/novel, I thought the characters were amazing (especially Sebastien – I can’t believe he’s real). There were parts of the story that made me laugh out loud, I actually think I fell in love with France while reading it (a hard thing to believe even though…admission time – I really enjoyed Paris when I went a couple years ago; I wasn’t expecting to, but I couldn’t help myself), and even though Laura (the writer/main character) and I don’t have much in common in terms of behavior, there were so many things that she thought and said during the story that I just ‘got.’ I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I really related to her.

So for anyone out there who’s looking for a really funny, absolutely charming book, I recommend – Blame it on Paris by Laura Florand. If you don’t like it, I don’t want to know you.

-So my mother got herself an iPhone and passed on her brand new iPod to me (since she no longer needed it – obviously). And I have to say, some of her music is really good. Some of it sucks (what’s with the showtunes, Mom?), but some of it’s really not bad. (I’m giving her playlist a spin before I load my music on.) Three oldies but goodies that I came across this morning that I thought I’d share – since they all made me smile:

You Make Me Feel Like Dancing by Leo Sayer (so, so, so fun)
Sunshine Superman by Donovan (wait, Donovan? Yes, Donovan – and there’s more!)
Mellow Yellow by Donovan (I dare anyone to listen to this song and NOT spend the rest of the day singing ‘They call me Mellow Yellow’ in their head)

There you go – my mother cracks me up. One more thought on her music before I move on to another topic: You’re My Home by Billy Joel – so romantic it’s out of control. Does it make me cheesy that I think so? Yes. Do I care? Fuck no. Try to find a woman who isn’t blown away by it. I dare you.

-Fruit punch flavored Vitamin Water is yum. And the little spiel about the flavor on the side of the bottle – actually pretty funny. Just FYI.

OK, more later in the week. Have I missed anything in your lives that I should know about? Well make it quick if you tell me – I need to work too, people!

(Note: Yeah, I know I'm supposed to start making these shorter - um, next time. Maybe.)

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

My Vet Is a Jackass

Guess what? No drunken hookups this weekend (you guys should be pleased) – of course, I was babysitting the nephews on Saturday night so that pretty much explains it. FYI, the little guys couldn’t be cuter if they tried.

No, instead I learned that my vet is a complete fucking incompetent (not something I ever wanted to realize). So everyone, allow me to vent for a few minutes, because I am still insanely pissed right now and need to let it out.

Picture this – it’s noon on Saturday, and I have somehow corralled my kitty into her carrier (with minimal damage done to me, woo hoo), to take her for her yearly physical. Upon arriving at the vet’s, I am greeted by the cutest boxer puppy – as a lot of you know, I was raised with boxers and love them to death – and foolishly I saw this as a good sign for the visit. Oh how wrong I turned out to be.

Anyway, so after a short wait I was sent into an examining room. I wasted no time taking my baby out of her carrier and holding her close – she doesn’t like her carrier and I wanted to relax her as much as possible. And as the nurse walked in, I made a point of explaining that P (my cat) is a) very nervous around strangers, and b) doesn’t like unfamiliar situations. So she was going to be freaked out – it was really just an FYI and ‘keep that in mind’ sort of thing.

The nurse looked at me blankly (her natural look I was soon to find out) before nodding her head, grabbing P out of my arms, and sticking her on the scale. Then she tried to take P’s temperature, and this is where P’s nervousness really became clear. P was…um…’clenching’ I guess is the correct word, and the thermometer wouldn’t go in. My response when the nurse pointed this out was simple: ‘Can’t say I blame her.’

Then the vet came in. She was new to the practice (I’ve been going to this place P’s whole life, but I tend to get a different vet each year and never really minded before – as long as they keep her healthy I’m fine), and she looked to be all of 12-years-old.

Whatever, I thought. Just let her take good care of my cat. Right off the bat she had the nurse hold P down so she could insert the thermometer, and after the discomfort of that (for P really, although I wasn’t all that comfortable watching either), we waited. And waited. And waited. It took Dr. Genius about 3 minutes before realizing the thermometer was broken. Fucking great.

Shrugging her shoulders, she patted P and said, ‘Her temperature feels fine, so let’s assume it is.’ Okey dokey. Then she went on to question me about P’s behavior recently – normal, her food intake – normal, and what food I feed her. When I told her what P eats, I was informed that it’s not the healthiest food out there. I know this of course, but P is a very picky eater and I try to do the best I can. Her dry food is very healthy, but her wet food (which she doesn’t get every day) is crap. I was told this had to change, and I agreed; P is going to turn 7 in October, and I knew I had to take a firmer hand with her. Fine, what foods would Dr. Genius recommend, I asked?

‘Um, I think we have some pamphlets on that out front.’

Oh good, I thought, she really is a moron. Looking at P – who incidentally looked like she wanted to throw up – I again made a point of mentioning that P is very shy, and obviously very nervous right now (although I was quick to reassure everyone that she wouldn’t bite or anything). Nodding her head, Dr. Genius began her examination of my little girl (shut up). As if to drive my point home YET AGAIN, the nurse actually giggled while Dr. Genius was looking at P’s eyes and said, ‘Look’ while pointing at the stainless steel exam table, ‘her paws are sweating!’ Sure enough, P was leaving sweaty streaks on the table. She was also super shedding – another sign of nervousness.

Are we clear yet that P was probably more nervous than most cats would be at the vet? I just want to be sure. OK, moving on.

So Dr. Genius was taking A LOT of time doing her examination – she spent forever feeling for P’s internal organs – and when she finally found her kidneys (P was sort of trying to get as small as possible during this whole experience and it was making things difficult – although I would like to note that none of the other vets we’ve visited have ever had any trouble checking things out quickly and efficiently), she commented that ‘The kidneys feel a little small.’

Huh…OK, what does that mean? ‘Maybe nothing,’ she said, ‘but since P is almost 7, we could do some bloodwork just to make sure everything is all right.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ I said, being very clear that P’s health is the only important thing. I didn’t ask how much it cost – I didn’t care.

Now, P’s never had blood taken before (that I remember), so I want to be clear that I had no idea what the protocol here was. When they held my cat down and lifted her head straight up so she was looking at the ceiling, I didn’t think to object; I simply assumed this was what they NEEDED to do. And even when they started trying to stick a needle into my cat’s neck, and I felt a wave of horror wash over me, I still kept my mouth shut. But I really almost lost it when Dr. Genius – she of the incompetent EVERYTHING up until then - had trouble finding a fucking vein.

My cat looked like she was in hell. I looked like I was in hell. But I kept my mouth shut, because they needed blood and I assumed this was the only way to get it (after all, who would use the neck to get blood if there was another option – especially on a skittish cat like P – right?). In fact, I only made one noise during the whole thing, and that was when Dr. Genius finally got the fucking needle in. The instant she pushed it in, P’s tongue sprang out of her mouth. Now let me be clear here – I’ve never seen P’s tongue pop out like that. It looked like she was being strangled. So I whimpered, feeling her pain. And do you know what that MOTHERFUCKING vet said? ‘Oh, she’s just being dramatic.’

EXCUSE ME? Did you just tell me my CAT was being DRAMATIC, you incompetent piece of SHIT? My cat does not know how to be dramatic – she’s a fucking ANIMAL! Now I don’t have a medical degree or anything, but if I had to guess I’d say she’s fucking terrified right now, and I’d also guess that there’s a VERY good change that you just stuck that needle into something you weren’t supposed to, you inept BITCH! You WASTE OF GODDAMN SPACE!

But I kept my mouth shut – she had a needle in my baby’s neck after all. And finally (it seemed like years later) Dr. Genius removed the syringe. And left…there was blood all over P’s neck. I was horrified. But Dr. Genius just looked at it and said, ‘Oh don’t worry, she’ll clean that off herself.’

Honestly, I didn’t know what to do at this point. My jaw was just hanging open, I felt sick to my stomach, and all I wanted was to get out of there. I couldn’t even think of words (and that never happens to me) – I think I was in shock. But the rage, the real ANGER only came when the nurse casually commented (after P had gotten a vaccination in her back leg – which she took like a champ by the way), ‘You know, maybe next year we should take the blood from her back leg instead.’

Excuse me? WHAT?! You restrained my cat and took blood from her NECK (badly), when you could have gotten it from her back leg? Knowing how terrified she was, you chose to do THAT rather just take it from a place far from her face? How COULD you?! If I had known there was any other option, I OF COURSE would have chosen it. Any MORON could have figured out that was a better choice. You ASSHOLE!

I just...saw red. I STILL see red when I think about it.

And right then I realized that I needed to get out of there. Quickly, or I was going to do something horrible. So I gathered P up, paid the bill, and ran. I was literally shaking by the time we got back to the apartment. All I could do was pull P out of her carrier, hold her close (for as long as she would let me), apologize for putting her through that, and wonder which of us was more traumatized by the events of the day. Considering she was jumping around and being naughty just a few hours later, I’m pretty sure I was.

In fact, I’m still…I’m still SO angry about this, I can barely tell the story now. So let me just conclude with this – I hate that vet, I hate the place where she works, I will NEVER go back there and I hope that bitch gets her license taken away. How dare people who are supposed to be taking care of animals treat them with such disrespect? Incompetent assholes.

OK, vent over. Thanks for listening (assuming you actually made it through that whole thing).

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

I’ve Lost My Mind

Everyone annoys me. I realize this statement won’t exactly shock you guys – let’s face it, if you’re not an animal, a really young or a really old person, or a member of my family, the odds of you pissing me off simply by breathing are inordinately high – but I just felt like I had to get it out there today. Why? Why not, I’m cranky.

Did you know I haven’t called Christine back since the night of the psychic? Not normally a huge deal (it was only a week and a half ago), but she’s called me twice, sent me 3 emails, AND she’s leaving on vacation…um, today. I have done nothing to reply in any form. The reason for this is – I just don’t want to. Yes, I’m really that simple. There was no fight this time around, nothing she did to piss me off, it’s just – you know, I just don’t have the energy to deal.

Now I get that indifference isn’t the same as animosity, but as I sort of implied, I’m feeling that too right now. I’m just generally fed up with everyone and everything at the moment, and the thing that’s really getting on my nerves at the moment is…bloggers. Yes, bloggers. I think I would annoy myself right now if I wasn’t…you know, me. Want to know why? Because bloggers – even the really good, entertaining, smart ones – never fucking change! (Note: My real beef at the moment is with ‘personal’ bloggers – like me! – the people who talk about themselves, their lives, their friends, ad nauseum, until you want to shoot them. How do you people – the readers – stand us? We’re not a relaxing break during the workday, we’re a fucking repetitive and stupid pain in the ass! Sports bloggers I still love though.)

Now I get it, if it’s so annoying then why don’t I simply stop reading? I do! ALL the time. I find a blog that I like, read it religiously for about a month or two, and then get so fed up with the writer that I have to stop (actually, this does sound strangely like all my relationships). Still, I think the point I’m about to get to is still valid: I can’t be the only one who feels this way!

Don’t you ever have a moment (while reading me or someone else), where you are suddenly almost overcome with the desire to say ‘Grow the fuck up already, would you?’ or ‘Get OVER IT!’ or ‘Just SHUT up!’ or my personal favorite, ‘What is this person’s fucking problem?’ I’m sure I’ve had readers who’ve thought this about me. And honestly, I don’t blame them.

Because while a writer’s ‘voice’ may be appealing in the beginning, don’t you ever find that after a while it’s all just the same old shit? The person’s quirks suddenly become flaws, and you start thinking to yourself, ‘If I could be assured this person – and their commenters – wouldn’t get all sensitive about it, I would LOVE to tell this person -----.’

Well here’s your chance – for all those lurkers out there that never comment, for the people who do comment but maybe don’t say EVERYTHING they’re thinking, for the people who used to read me but got fed up (I feel for you, I do) and maybe just dropped in today and got lucky – bring it on. What about me pisses you off? What will I NOT shut up about (but really, really should)? What am I doing with my life that you would change it you could?

Come on people – tell me something I don’t know.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

What I Learned on Saturday

I drank a 40 of beer while sitting at a bus stop this past weekend. Out of a plastic bag. It was without a doubt the greatest white trash moment I have ever had, and it was all thanks to Christine.

Actually, it was thanks to The Psychic. And Christine. But mainly The Psychic and her a) bad news (for Christine, who got her reading first), and b) lack of a credit card machine. You see, we went to see a psychic on Saturday night (Christine’s idea – she wanted to know what the future held for her and was apparently unwilling to wait and find out), and unfortunately, not all the news for Christine was good. No news of a soulmate for her, no news on the job front, but apparently LOTS of news on her past lives (say what?) and a firm warning from The Psychic that she had an emotional blockage that needed to be cleared. Pronto. This – of course – would cost more money. So off Christine went to find an ATM, and in I went (released from the hottest waiting room in the history of the world) to go in for my reading.

Note: I do not believe in psychics. However I am a fucking awesome friend, and I figured this would be entertaining if nothing else. Oh, and Christine promised me ice cream if I went. Sold.

As I sat down I made a point not to speak too much (because I didn’t want to give anything away, duh), but did mention that ‘We don’t really need to go into my past or present or anything – I already know about those – so can we just focus on the future?’ Hey, I didn’t want to waste time or money. Her response was ‘I don’t know what information I’ll get. Just sit back and relax.’ Okey dokey then.

The good news was she didn’t try to pull any past life crap on me (this means she either realized I wasn’t going to believe it anyway, or it means I’m brand new). Anyway, here’s a breakdown of what she told me, along with either my reactions or those of the people I’ve told about the reading (which is really the fun part about going to a psychic – people’s responses to what was said):

-People around me are very envious, and they talk about me behind my back.
Reaction: My mother’s take on this one was the best – ‘Hmmm, I would have said people were afraid of you, not envious.’ Gee, thanks Mom.

-I am a very strong person.
Reaction: This one goes to my boss (who thought it was hysterical that I went to a psychic by the way) – ‘I don’t think it takes a psychic to figure that out; I knew it within one minute of meeting you.’ Thanks…I think.

-I like to give advice and get annoyed when people don’t listen to me.
Reaction: Well duh, I could fix everyone’s life if they’d just step back and let me!

-I worry about those I care for.
Reaction: My mother and I both agreed this was true, and it is not something strangers often know about me (I’m generally seen as very laid back and don’t get worked up over stupid shit…well, I’m easily annoyed but never illogically paranoid, sad, etc.). Anyway, I thought this one was a good call on The Psychic’s part, since I do get very worried about the small group of people I love. I just couldn’t give a shit about anyone else.

-I try to take the problems of others on myself.
Reaction: As I said, I could fix everyone’s life if they’d just let me!

-I’m going to live to be between 87 and 90.
Reaction: A) Cool beans, and B) I’m pretty sure that’s a lie – I take horrible care of myself.

-My aura is lavender and red.
Reaction: I had no real reaction to this (since I didn’t know what the hell it meant and stupidly didn’t ask – my only question after she said this was ‘Is that because red is my favorite color?’ The answer to that was no). However, after getting home I googled auras and this is what I am: A lavender aura means I have imagination, I’m a visionary, a daydreamer, and etheric. A red aura means I’m powerful, energetic, competitive, sexual, and passionate. Hmmm…actually, I think those are pretty accurate. Moving on…

-My third eye is wide open.
Reaction: I DID ask what the hell that meant. According to The Psychic this means I’m very perceptive, imaginative, and I have a great deal of ‘self-mastery.’ Energy also flows through me freely, not getting blocked anywhere (unlike Christine). But yeah, I have no real response to this since I’m still not entirely sure what the hell she was talking about. Anyone know? Anyone?

-I’m a leader not a follower.
Reaction: No shit.

-Because I’m not a follower, I should work for myself, not for others.
Reaction: Yeah, I didn’t tell my boss this one. And while I’d love to work for myself, let’s just say I’m not quitting my job because a psychic told me to. (Oh, and I can’t believe she told me to quit my job!)

-I’m a winter person – my energy is at its highest during the winter months.
Reaction: That one’s dead on – I love wintertime (summer sucks); the cozy sweaters, the warm drinks, the not being HOT all the time.

And then she got into the good stuff…

-I have not been open to finding my soulmate in the past, but now I am ready.
Reaction: Really? Umm….really? My mother almost lost it when I told her this – you’d think she actually believed in this stuff (which she doesn’t…normally). Oh, and do we really have to call him my ‘soulmate’?

-I already know my soulmate, but don’t realize it (in fact, while I know him I may not have noticed him before). I will notice him in September.
Reaction: Huh? I really don’t think I know anyone who has the potential to be The One. Plus, September? That seems kind of soon, doesn’t it? Is that seriously all the single time I have left? And why am I acting like this could be true? (Note: Get a grip and calm down.)

-My soulmate’s first or last name starts with the letter A.
Reaction: I swear to fucking God, I don’t know anyone (male, single, cute) with a first or last name that starts with an A. No Adams, Andrews, Aarons, etc. Seriously. How is that even possible? (Although both Christine and my boss did joke that it was A-Rod, and I couldn’t stop laughing at that.)
Note: I just remembered that The Bartender (from last week’s post), his name starts with an A. Shoot me now.

-The relationship will move to the next level in January.
Reaction: Wow, that’s moving a little fast, isn’t it?

-I will have 3 kids, but only 2 pregnancies.
Reaction: 1) My mother LOVED this one – you’d think I’d actually told her I had gotten married and was already pregnant, and 2) Only 2 pregnancies but 3 kids? Hmmm. The Psychic asked me if twins run in the family, and I told her quite firmly that no, they did not. When she insisted quite adamantly that I would indeed have 3 kids, but only 2 pregnancies, I didn’t feel like arguing it with her, so I simply said ‘Well, that’s one less bout of labor, so I’m all for it!’ Still, 3 kids? I’m tired just thinking about it.

As for the rest of it…yeah, I don’t really remember what else she said (so I’m guessing it couldn’t have been that interesting). Anyway, since I hadn’t been in the room when Christine got her reading, I didn’t know it had been bad. All I did know at the time was when I was done with The Psychic, Christine had returned from her trip to the ATM with both money AND beer (not what I had been expecting). Apparently it was imperative that we start drinking – immediately. So immediately in fact, that Christine simply paid The Psychic for the reading she had already had, and refused to get her emotional blockage removed (it’s important to note that The Psychic said this would cost $100 – I fully supported keeping the money AND the emotional blockage as well). She then handed me my plastic bag of beer (this truly cracked me up), and told me we were going. Okay.

We made it about a block before stopping at a bus stop – not to take the bus, just to sit on the bench – and proceeded to drink our 40s on the street, while talking about our readings. This was actually really fun – the white trash drinking, the laughing about what she had told us, the speculating about what some of the stuff could mean, discussing the veracity of what she did say about us, etc.

But the weirdest part of the night? Turns out the first thing The Psychic said to Christine when she sat down for her reading was ‘You say things to people’s faces that most people never would.’ Bam! Even I’ll admit THAT was impressive. How the fuck did The Psychic call that? I mean, Christine’s biggest weakness and she hit it right on the head.

Anyway, I’m not saying I’m a believer or anything (no fucking way), but I thought that was pretty good. And in terms of Saturday night entertainment, The Psychic couldn’t have been beat – she provided us with conversational topics that (weirdly) fascinated everyone. We had the entire bar cracking up over Christine’s past lives hours later.

Anywho, that’s my Saturday night story. How was everyone else’s weekend? Do anything interesting?

Friday, July 25, 2008

A First Kiss

A few days ago I ended up in a conversation with some friends about each of our first kisses (I really can’t remember how we got on the topic, but the nostalgia factor was high and it was kind of fun to reminisce). And it got me thinking – how significant is a first kiss. Can it actually serve as an example (or even blueprint) to how we approach relationships and romance in the future? I ask this because one of my friends – who remembers her first kiss as being very romantic – has always had very good and romantic relationships; in fact, she’s the only one of the group who is married (happily it seems). While I on the other hand…

You know what, let’s break down my first kiss for you. However a disclaimer to begin: I’m not counting the cute little pecks I had with the neighbor boy when I was 6 – we had no idea what we were doing, and they were (obviously) in no way ‘adult’ kisses. What I’m talking about, for the purposes of this post (and theory), is my first remotely sexual (type) KISS. Which I guess for me happened in the 7th or 8th grade (shut up, no matter what you say everything before that was child’s play).

The scene – a party at my friend Viv’s house (a HUGE place with a game room in the basement). The crowd – all the ‘cool kids.’ I was there, and so was Dave. Dave was the king of our grade – he was Mr. Cool, all the guys looked up to him, and all the girls had crushes on him. Including, I’m embarrassed to admit, me.

Anyway, after playing a game of pool (I sucked then and I suck now), we somehow ended up under the pool table flirting. I was psyched to be the girl that he seemingly wanted (hey, at that age there’s cache in that), and when he suggested we wander upstairs to Viv’s room to ‘check it out,’ I was more than willing to go along.

Once upstairs he wasted no time in moving in for the kill. BAM! There he was, on my face, mouth WIDE open, doing a very adolescent and inexperienced (although I didn’t realize it at the time) version of the French kiss. It was…wet. I actually remember thinking, ‘Okay, so I guess this is it. I wonder how long we need to do this for?’

It turns out the answer to that question was: a long time. I’m talking over an hour of mouths wide open, tongues moving, a little hand movement, and sheer boredom on my part. I never once stopped thinking and lost myself in the moment (how could I?). In fact, after about 10 minutes I stopped trying to keep my eyes closed and opened them to see if there was anything interesting to look at to keep myself entertained – turns out the tv was on and I could see it over his shoulder; I’m not embarrassed to admit I watched it for as long as I could without getting caught. After some more time had passed I pondered the fact that my jaw was starting to ache from being held open for so long, and I also spent some time trying to figure out a way to detach him for a couple seconds so I could wipe my mouth (he was slobbering all over me).

At no point did I think the kiss was romantic.

But you know, even then I was analytical about it. I wasn’t disappointed because it wasn’t a fairy tale, I didn’t fancy myself as in love with him, I was just…realistic about the whole thing. It was what it was; he was a really cute, popular guy, I wanted to learn about kissing, and it wasn’t painful or bad or anything, it was just…strange. Kind of funny too (if a guy isn’t doing it for me, to this day my internal monologue at least keeps things interesting and lighthearted – if not hot).

After that night, Dave and I were kind of a couple (off and on) for the rest of the school year. Eventually his family moved away, and I never really saw or thought much about him again. But when we all talked about our first kisses last week, I was surprised to find I still remembered the night pretty well. And while I’ve certainly had more experienced men in my life since then (obviously), I found that my detachment, my matter-of-fact attitude about men and relationships and the…physical nature of relationships – well, it all started back then. I think.

I don’t know, I imagine a lot of this is just my personality – I’m not a crier, I’m not clingy, and I’ve always enjoyed space and my independence, so maybe my first kiss has nothing to do with the kind of relationships I look for and have today; but it’s a theory I’m working on and I wanted to throw out there all the same.

So what about you guys? Do you see a parallel between your first kiss and your love life now. Or ever? Does it just take the right person to snap you out of it (if, in fact, you ever needed to be ‘snapped out of it’)? Talk to me people.

Monday, July 21, 2008

The One Where I Avoid a Black Eye

I almost got my ass kicked over the weekend. Literally. And I have to say, as someone who has never actually been in a physical fight (verbal – oh hell yeah – but physical, not so much), it was a little…unnerving. Because I’m kind of a weakling. A super bitch to be sure, but physically – let me say this, I may be tall, but I’m pretty sure a 12-year-old boy could kick my ass. Or, let’s say, a REALLY pissed off 25-year-old girl.

The Story: So I went out on Saturday night (with Linda), and we went to a bar near my apartment after going to the movies – didn’t even try to get into Dark Knight, instead went to see Get Smart (mmmmm, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson). And because it was hot as hell this weekend, and I needed to go somewhere air-conditioned before I melted, we hopped into a bar that I hadn’t been to in over 6 months. A) Because it was close by, and B) because it’s a cool fucking bar.

Now the reason I hadn’t been there in 6 months is because I had (briefly) dated one of the bartenders. And as with all my relationships, we’d broken up. Plus (as you all know) I have a bad track record with breakups – I tend to piss people off during the whole ‘ending the relationship’ thing, and they tend to take it out on me. So when I can, I avoid potentially awkward reunions.

Anyway, so we go into the place on Saturday, walk right up to the bar, and find seats (never happens!), and who should approach us? Why, The Bartender, of course. Only he was cool – he came over, reached across the bar, and gave me a huge hug. He even asked how I had been and didn’t seem to hate me at all. I was psyched. (Plus, in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that The Bartender is hot as hell AND has the obligatory sexy Irish accent.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, the hug – so he lets go after the hug, asks us what we’re drinking (beer), and after getting us our beverages he wastes no time is turned to me and just blurting out, ‘So, are you single?’

Ummm, yes? Apparently that was the right answer, since he immediately informed us that our drinks were on him. Cool beans.

So I settled back with my beer after he left to, you know, work, and noticed this chick sitting a few seats away giving me the evil eye. At first I thought she might be a girlfriend or something, but I decided she couldn’t be because she looked too…desperate. Don’t get me wrong, she was cute (kind of Minka Kelly-ish), but she had a pathetic vibe to her. She just sat at the bar, doing nothing, and whenever The Bartender came by she immediately came to life. It was…weird. I kind of saw her as a groupie type.

I on the other hand couldn’t care less, and that (as we all know) is what truly draws men (at least in the beginning – don’t try too hard ladies). So around the 4th time The Bartender had come over to flirt – and actually ask me out, but shhhh, don’t tell anyone – I realized that Evil Eye had gone from being annoyed to looking like she was going to kill me.

I found her animosity made things awkward. For me, at least.

It should therefore come as no surprise that I was very relieved when she got up and went to the bathroom. Finally I was able to relax a little bit – in fact, I was so relaxed that I turned to the dude sitting next to me, nodded at Evil Eye’s empty seat, and asked ‘What is her problem?’

He didn’t even ask me what I was talking about; Evil Eye had been that obvious with her animosity. Chuckling a little, he said simply ‘Her boyfriend’s been hitting on you since you walked in. I'm pretty sure that’s her problem.’

‘What? Who? The Bartender?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, looking at me like I was a little slow (sometimes I really can be).

‘How do you know that?’ I asked.

‘I come here,’ he explained. ‘She’s always here – everyone knows.’

Ah shit. ‘But…’ I sputtered, kind of not wanting to believe that The Bartender would be so cruel as to hit on me right in front of his girlfriend. I mean, he would NEVER have pulled that shit on me when we were together. Of course, I never would have been so pathetic as to just hang out in the bar, alone, while he was WORKING. And speaking of pathetic, why was she blaming me? I clearly wasn’t the initiator here. And I wasn’t the one in a relationship! How was I supposed to know they were even together?! (I mean, before I asked that is.) But I digress.

Wait, I need to digress again – this is an important point to me – how could she LET him get away with this? Where’s the self-respect? People, if you show no respect for yourself, how can you expect others to treat you with respect? Think about it.

Now having said all that, it does appear (to give credit where credit is due) that Evil Eye’s wussiness only extended to her boyfriend. She wasn’t even a little bit scared of me. In fact, after about 45 minutes she finally just came up and said (I swear to God this is a direct quote) ‘I think you should leave now.’ She didn't say it in a nice way. And you know what? I left. Because she looked like she was ready to do me harm, and frankly I don’t want to get my ass kicked. For anyone, but especially NOT for a guy like The Bartender.

So quick wrap-up: Linda thought this whole thing was hysterical (she told everyone we know that I almost got beat up trying to steal some girl’s boyfriend – please keep in mind that I totally wasn’t trying to steal anything). I got home in one piece. I truly feel I shouldn’t have been the one in trouble there (hello, why wasn’t the misbehaving boyfriend getting threatened?). And I think I need to learn how to throw a punch – you know, just in case. So, um…does the thumb go on the inside or outside of the fist? Won’t it get hurt in either place?

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

My Friend, The Oddball

Today’s post is going to be about Christine. Yes, Christine – the friend that I probably hang out with the most. She’s also the one that probably (okay definitely) drives me nuts the most. But it occurred to me, as we were hanging out on Friday night, that she’s gotten kind of a bad rap around here. And I’m the first to admit that I’m the one who gave it to her. But in the interest of honesty, I have to say she does have her redeeming features. Christine’s just…an odd duck is all (which I’m willing to bet is one of the reasons I like her so much). She’s entirely too outspoken, she has absolutely no tact, she says hurtful things ALL the time, and she couldn’t be more judgmental if she tried. But she is also a great friend. We have so much fun together.

From the day I met Christine, she has stood by me – there I was, at a party with my (now ex) boyfriend, and I was all alone. As was his M.O., he took me to a party where he knew everyone (and I knew no one), and promptly disappeared. Now I don’t really mind being left on my own, but this was a habit of his that truly pissed me off. So, knowing that the best place to meet people and make inane conversation was always by the booze, I made my way over to the keg. And that’s where Christine was. Upon introducing myself, I learned that she already knew all about me (my ex was from a really small town – the same town Christine is from – and apparently everyone was talking about the new girl J was dating…awesome). Anyway we got to talking, and drinking, and it turned out we had a lot of fun together (I ditched my ex at that party, went to another party with Christine, and the evening didn’t end until she had been invited into a threesome with this couple I knew – I think you probably had to be there, but her reaction was very amusing).

Wait, where was I? Doesn’t matter, the point is we became friends a long time ago, and for whatever reason the two of us (normally) get along really well. And despite the road bumps along the way, she is one of those people I can always count on. When I was laid off last year, it was Christine who showed up at my door that night with food (score), a bottle of scotch (double score), and a bouquet of daisies (my favorite). She then promptly took me out and got me shitfaced. It was a shining Friend Moment.

Still, she is a weirdo (which, as I said, is one of the reasons I like her so much). And while that normally translates into good times, when things get bad with her they get…really bad. This has never been more in evidence than the past year and a half – in that time Christine has been fired twice, got offered a job and then promptly (after she’d told everyone) had the offer rescinded, she’s been dumped twice, and she was evicted by her asshole ex-roommate (after she refused to date him). Essentially, all of this kind of broke her. She just fell apart. And while I truly don’t blame her for that (I’m a bitch, but I’m not that big a bitch), it did make spending time with her…difficult. She was hard to be around – and as luck would have it I was the only person she could stand to talk to during this time. So I vented – to you fine people. I did not take it out on her (well, at least not until she royally pissed me off back in…December?…I’m not going back and finding that post and linking to it). Either way it’s been a tough stretch, but lately (I’m happy to say), she seems to be getting back to normal. She’s starting a new job in a couple weeks, she doesn’t seem nearly as depressed and negative now, and she’s been giving me my space (thank God). This makes the time when we do hang out much more enjoyable (not surprisingly). And this return to form has really reminded me just how much of a trip Christine can be. So without further ado, below you will find a taste of my friend Christine – these are all stories she told/opinions she gave while we were out drinking on Friday night – my strange friend who is truly an acquired taste. Enjoy:

-While waiting to start her job, Christine has been focusing on keeping busy. This translates into many things – daily yoga classes (I have a good story below on that), joining a weekly book group (these people are hardcore and apparently are all over the age of 45), cleaning out her closets (which it seems is much more involved than I ever imagined), and…fixing her dresser. Her Ikea dresser – which cost her about $100 6 years ago. You know, the kind that you get straight out of college, use until you can afford something nicer, and then fucking throw out. But oh no, not Christine. When she noticed that her dresser was literally falling apart – according to her the bottom kept dropping out, thereby dumping all her clothes onto the floor (which is, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you fine people, pretty inconvenient in a dresser) – she didn’t think ‘time for the trash heap,’ she thought ‘project!’

So, as she tells the story, she contacted her super. She needed, in her words, a ‘rolly thing.’ I would now give you the technical name for such an apparatus, but…well, I don’t know what they’re called either. It’s just one of those stand things that has 4 wheels on it so you can move heavy objects around.

Anyway, upon receiving a rolly thing from her super, Christine emptied her dresser out, somehow maneuvered her huge dresser (this bad boy is BIG – it’s wide and it goes up to her neck) onto it, and hit the streets. Of Harlem (yes, Christine is currently living in Harlem). But just in case this picture doesn’t strike you as odd enough, Christine decided to top off her look with a huge straw hat, because…(drumroll please) the ‘sun seemed really strong that day.’ Yeah, like I said – weirdo.

So Christine started wheeling her way down the street, ostensibly looking for a hardware store, with her dresser in tow (playing the part of, I don’t know, her dog or something). Apparently everyone she passed looked at her like she was nuts (they weren’t wrong). And upon finding herself a little corner hardware store, Christine deduced that she wouldn’t be able to fit her dresser inside the shop. So she went in, got the manager, and made him come out onto the street to look at her dresser. He was…confused as to what she needed from him. And when she explained that she wanted him to fix said dresser (on the street it seems), he looked at her – flabbergasted – and said, ‘But…it’s made of particle board! Can’t you just buy a new one?’ It seems the answer to that question was, ‘No.’

4 hours later, Christine took her new (fixed) dresser back to her apartment. On her trusty little rolly thing. And let me tell you something – she is damn proud of herself. In her eyes, she really accomplished something that day. And let me tell you, she is not even a little embarrassed by this story (no matter how much you laugh at her – trust me, I know).

Repeat after me – an odd duck.

-The yoga story – actually, it’s not really a story so much as a prime example of Christine being…well, Christine. OK you know what, this is really best told through a reenactment of our conversation (picture us sitting at the bar in our favorite neighborhood pub – we were both a little drunk at this point):

Christine: …And I’ve been taking 3 different yoga classes.
Redhead: Why?
Christine: Because it gives me something to do during the day while the rest of the world is working.
Redhead: Yeah, but yoga? Why?
Christine: I like it.
Redhead: Why?
Christine: Shut up. So anyway, my Friday yoga class is by far the hardest.
Redhead: What makes it so hard?
Christine: Well, I think it’s taught by a yogi…
Redhead: What exactly is a yogi?
Christine: I’m not sure. But this guy is clearly super good, because the class is made up entirely of yoga instructors, and so I’ve decided he’s a yogi.
Redhead: Huh. Why are you there?
Christine: Because there’s no rule saying I can’t be.
Redhead: But can you keep up?
Christine: No.
Redhead: Can you at least do most of the moves?
Christine: No.
Redhead: Huh. Okay, well do the other students – since they’re actually instructors too – help you out?
Christine: Oh no, they hate me.
Redhead: What do you mean they hate you?
Christine: Well, they all seem to know each other – they hang out before and after class, they talk about yoga, etc. etc. – and I think they’re a little pissed off that I’m crashing their party.
Redhead: But you said there’s no rule that you can’t be there.
Christine: There isn’t, but that doesn’t mean they have to want me there. And they’re mean! I fell over trying to do a handstand the other day, and someone laughed at me!
Redhead: In yoga? Are they allowed to do that? Doesn’t that go against EVERYTHING that yoga stands for?
Christine: Exactly! But to be fair, I really am bad.
Redhead: I don’t care, that’s just wrong! You need to stop going.
Christine: I can’t do that, I need to break them first.
Redhead: You need to ‘break’ your yoga class?
Christine: (Nodding her head) I have to win. They may hate me, they may be mean to me, but they can’t stop me from going and they can’t throw me out.
Redhead: I get that, but doesn’t it suck being there? This is supposed to be fun for you.
Christine: It kind of is. I just go in with a big dumb smile on my face, sit there acting oblivious, and try to do the moves without hurting anyone. I’m like a puppy. Who can be mean to a puppy?! Eventually they WILL like me.
Redhead: (At this point just doubled over in laughter) I…you know what? I can’t argue this – I think it’s genius. If you break them in the next two weeks, I’ll buy you dinner.

-Damn, this post is getting long – let’s keep this story short and sweet. So Christine and I were sitting in a bar on Friday (as I already stated), and without warning she blurts out, ‘East Coast guys have small dicks. I mean it, on the whole they all have huge egos and small dicks.’

Cue me, choking on my drink. As I quickly looked around, I found more than one shocked male in the vicinity (mind you we were in Manhattan, New York, aka East Coast Central, at the time). ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’

‘So I was having sex with this guy a couple weeks ago,’ she went on to explain (at this point I think my head hit the bar), ‘and the condom fell off. Inside of me! I had to fish it out. And according some friends of mine, I’m not the only one this has happened to.’

Shocked. Speechless.

‘This prompted me to do a little more asking around’ she continued, ‘and it seems to be a uniquely East Coast male thing. No girls have had this problem with a Midwestern or West Coast boy.’

Me, still speechless.

‘Between all the girls I asked, I feel like I have a pretty good sample size here to make a hypothesis. So I’m comfortable calling this a scientific fact. East Coast guys have small dicks.’

Yes, she really does speak and say things like that. Now, I’m not going to get into my responses to her here (you know, once I’d regained the power of speech), but I will say this – I got us the hell out of there pretty soon after this bombshell; I was afraid for our lives. You just don’t imply that a bar full of men are inadequate, and then stick around. That’s a life lesson people.

-I also had another story about a guy (I think the small dicked one from above actually), sending her a dirty email but accidentally sending it to her brother instead, only I’m tired and need to get back to work. Long story short, Christine and her brother have very similar email addresses, her brother got an email that was clearly meant for her, he forwarded it on to her, and she feels she may never be able to face her family again. The end. Let me leave you with this though – Christine may be a pain in the ass, she may drive me nuts, and she may be needy as hell a lot of the time, but man does she make me laugh.

Oh, I also want to give a shout out to Josh Hamilton – the Home Run Derby was insane last night! Two enthusiastic thumbs up.