I was going to post something here last week, but I ended up having a life crisis instead. Ah well. Some Redhead updates:
-Italy was awesome. Fucking exhausting (sooooo many meetings), but fabulous. I ate a lot (mmmm, pizza), drank a lot (Chianti, Prosecco – you just can’t go wrong with either of those), and basically just soaked up the beauty. Is there anything better than sitting outside at 4 in the afternoon, on a cobblestone side street, watching people go in and out of the little chocolate shop on the corner, while drinking your 3rd glass of Prosecco that day? Nah, I didn’t think so.
-Random fact about me you don’t already know – I love orange soda. (Hey, I told you it was random – I don’t really go in for those 25 Things About Me lists, but every once in a while it’s nice to throw one out there.) Anyway yeah, I’m completely obsessed with the stuff. If I’m in a store/restaurant and they have orange soda, I get unreasonably excited and tend to…overindulge.
There you go.
-I am now officially obsessed with the UFC. Last week I found myself sitting home watching Spike TV (don’t ask), and some UFC tournament (is that what they call them?) came on. I was entranced. It has been a long time since something sucked me in like that. I watched the whole fucking thing (and showed up for drinks with friends, oh, 2 hours late – oops). It was totally worth it and I can’t wait to learn/watch more. Two overenthusiastic thumbs up.
-Let’s title this one Stupid Things Women Say to Avoid Being Asked Out on a Date.
So Christine was at work, and the annoying, not very (read: at all) attractive guy who’s been following her around walks into her office. First words out of his mouth were, ‘Hey, do you like art?’ Christine’s answer: No.
What?! OK, ignoring the fact that that’s a complete lie (she’s almost as much of a museum nerd as I am), who says that?!
He immediately started stuttering about a show at the MoMA he’d hoped she might like to see with him, and she cut him off with ‘Sorry, I don’t like art.’
As she was telling me this story the other night, all I could respond with was ‘THAT was the only letdown you could come up with? Not a nice little: I don’t date people I work with? But: I don’t like pretty things and culture is abhorrent to me????!’ Her reply: Hmmm, yours actually would have been better, huh?
-So who wants to hear about my week last week? Well, really only 1 interesting thing happened. (Well, sort of.) Where to start…
OK so I got off the train last Monday, and as per usual I was in my own world as I walked to my apartment (headphones on, eyes down). I was exhausted after a long day of work, and I just wanted to go home and collapse. Essentially, as I got to the door of my building, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Some guy followed me into my building. (In my defense – and I know I don’t really deserve a defense on this one – it was 6pm, the sun was still out, and a lot of people come home at that time so I didn’t think much of it when he followed me through the locked front door.)
Anyway long story short, I finally got to make my first 911 call! (Another aside – NY 911 operators are assholes. Bitch, I wasn’t yelling at you, I was yelling at the guy who had trapped me in the hallway and wouldn’t leave; I didn’t appreciate the attitude.) Not to put too fine a point on the story (because you don’t need, nor want, all the details), but the guy trapped me near the mailboxes on the first floor of my building, and he pretty much kept me there while he…um…pleasured himself.
On the plus side he didn’t try to touch me. On the negative side…it happened. And it was about as much fun as it sounds.
I don’t really know if I handled it well or not (is there a way to handle something like that well?). Much to my mother’s dismay – when I told her the story later that night – I was a little feisty (verbally) during the whole thing. Now making noise in a situation like that is considered smart. But telling the guy (who was much bigger than I) that he’s a ‘fucking freak’ while all alone in a locked building with him probably isn’t. What can I say – turns out I’m not one to go down quietly (apparently).
So that’s it – I was going to post last week but decided to have roughly 12 panic attacks instead. Still, I’m fine. Much more shaken by the situation than I thought I would be (mostly because I feel so fucking stupid for not paying more attention when I got to my building), but fine. Trust me when I say, I realize the story could have been a lot worse, and I know I’m kind of a wuss for not getting over everything quicker.
And that’s it. Shockingly I’m stepping up my new apartment search. Anyone have any funny stories to share?