I'm Always Right

Life Lesson

2011-09-01T10:57:00.002-04:00

My boss just emailed to say she isn’t going to make it into the office for our 11am meeting. This doesn't surprise me since she rarely makes it into the office before 11:30; she’s also 25 years old and not very bright. Yet she’s my boss and makes more money than I do, and do you want to know why? Because she slept with the right person (*cough* president of the company *cough*). I sleep with bartenders. So basically the only thing I can expect to get out of my sex is an orgasm, which is something I can give myself if necessary. Meanwhile she gets a large office, money, and a very nice title on her resume. So when you think about it, which one of us is really the stupid one?

Hate/Love

2011-05-19T12:16:00.003-04:00

I’d fallen a little behind on reading Kurt Sutter’s blog (creator of the excellent and addictive Sons of Anarchy), so I only came across his “Hate/Love: Why I Am On Medication” post today. It’s awesome, and it made me start thinking about my own Hate/Love list, so…I stole the idea (although I am giving credit – I may be lazy, but at least I'm honest).

I hate stupid people.
I hate my job.
I hate looking for a new job.
I hate being the smartest person in the room.
I hate it when I don’t feel challenged.
I hate pity.
I hate rent.
I hate people who don’t keep promises.
I hate talking on the phone.
I hate almost everyone on the subway.
I hate snakes.
I hate dates (the fruit, not the activity).
I hate when I think of the perfect retort after a conversation is over.
I hate anyone or anything that fucks with my family.
I hate that I haven’t done anything significant with my life yet.

I love loyalty.
I love reading.
I love animals.
I love music.
I love scotch.
I love vodka.
I love cigarettes.
I love coffee.
I love vices.
I love people who take chances.
I love people who are smarter than I am.
I love winning an argument.
I love high heels.
I love my family.
I love writing.

Anyone Home?

2011-02-18T08:59:00.002-05:00

I actually almost forgot the address for this site. Wow. So, anyway...let's just pretend it's not weird that I'm stopping by here after an extended break, okay? Great.

I had to share the following email with everyone - it's just so amazing. My sister forwarded it to me last night, and I could not stop laughing. I honestly loved almost every point made on it. With the exception of only one of two, each had me laughing and yelling out 'Oh my God, YES!'

So I'm sharing, because that's the kind of cool chick I am. Enjoy:

Adult Truths

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the heck are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

23. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey -- but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

24. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

The Giving Tree and Other Links

2010-05-13T09:26:00.005-04:00

Have you ever read a quote by someone else, and thought to yourself ‘that could have come out of my mouth – in fact, I'm pretty sure I've said that before in exactly the same way'? Let me assure you, when/if it happens it's weird and kind of awesome all at the same time. And while I generally don't like sharing thoughts and opinions with actors, I've got to give it up to Ryan Gosling; he pretty much nailed the children’s book The Giving Tree:

That book is so fucked up; that story’s the worst. I mean, at the end the tree is a stump and the old guy just sitting on him – he’s just used him to death, and you’re supposed to want to be the tree? Fuck you. You be the tree. I don’t want to be the tree. [NY Mag]

Words to live by.

Also, my assistant sent me the following two links a while ago. I loved both of them (cracked me up – genius), but I never got around to sharing the goodness with you fine people. So…here you go. One’s just awesome in and of itself, and the other is for those of us who read the Twilight books (for whatever reason), didn’t fucking get it, and continually try to explain to the psychopaths out there that it’s not even a well-written, well-executed book! Seriously people, it’s not.

Anyway, enough of me talking (writing). Onto the good stuff:

Can’t…stop…laughing.
Amazingness. My favorite line - Somebody's stupid here, and I think she thinks it's me.

My Cat the C*ckblocker

2010-04-21T09:48:00.003-04:00

My friend Linda actually gave my cat this moniker after I told her about a date I had last week. Long story short, I was going out with this dude and (as can happen) we ended up at my apartment. Things progressed to the bedroom, and sometime after clothes were removed we started to hear this ungodly sound – I would describe it as kind of a screechy yowling noise.

Choosing to ignore it, we continued on with our entertainment. And then, after about a half-hour of terrible sounds coming from my closet, my cat jumps up on the bed, gets in the dude’s face, and starts hissing. It was a mood killer to say the least.

After pushing her off the bed and attempting to make a joke about it, the dude and I focused and managed to finish what we started (or rather he did – men, by the age of 35 you should know how to give a woman an orgasm, I cannot stress that enough). Anyway, as we were laying around afterwards he sort of said something about the cat thing being a little weird (I wholeheartedly agreed), and at a loss of what else to say I made some comment about her never having reacted that way before (it was only after the words left my mouth that it occurred to me maybe I could have said that differently...or not at all).

Not surprisingly we haven’t spoken since that night (no real loss), but something positive did come from it all – a new nickname was born. From now on, my cat will be referred to as C*ckblocker! Awesome.

One quick concern before I leave though – this isn’t going to become something C*ckblocker does a lot is it? Does anyone here know anything about cats? I’m not sure how I’m ever going to get a guy to stick around if my (6 pound) cat tries to attack him every time we do the nasty. I mean, I was kind of touched that she tried to ‘protect’ me, and this guy wasn’t going to be a keeper anyway, but assuming I do meet someone that I want to see again, um... Yeah, I’m going to go with believing this was just a one-time thing for now. The alternative is not something I can deal with.

I'm Baffled

2010-03-14T14:59:00.003-04:00

I haven’t been around here a lot recently, mainly because I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life. The big story is actually one that I’m not going to get into here – had a short lived relationship with a guy that ended in a spectacularly bad way – but I will get into another story that just happened and has left me completely baffled. I need advice/opinions from men here because I am currently in a state of WTF and it’s annoying me. Suffice it to say, my luck with the opposite sex has been HIDEOUS lately.

So the story: There’s this bartender (yes, another bartender) that I’ve been flirting with for months. I gave him my number a while ago, he never called, said he lost it and asked for it again. Being a self-respecting female I told him no, because you never give a guy your number more than once (that’s a rule ladies). Still, he was persistent, giving me his number (I didn’t call) and continually asking for mine. Eventually I gave in, he got the number again (there goes the self-respect, but in my defense I was drunk when I gave it), and we agreed to go out.

Our date ended up being a full day event of skiing (I’d never skied before). It was…great. We literally spent from 6:30 in the morning until 11 at night together, and there were no awkward moments in the conversation. We laughed a lot, talked a lot, drank a lot (after the skiing ended – we’re responsible adults, I promise!), and made out a lot. The day ended with him throwing me up against the wall at a bar we’d ended up at and full-on making out with me like a stud. I’m telling you, it was surprisingly hot. After regaining my equilibrium I left, and an hour later I got a text saying he’d just gotten home, and good night – talk soon.

Fast forward 2 weeks, and no word from him. I’m confused, because while I realize I’m being blown off, I don’t know how it happened. Or rather, I don’t know why it happened. This was not a mediocre date; it was an amazing date. So I end up at the bar where he works with a friend last night (we go there a lot), and the dude completely avoids me. I mean, we sat down at the bar and it took him 20 minutes of working right in front of us to say hi (we did get our drinks right away from the other bartender, otherwise I would have been beyond pissed). Then he avoided us and eye contact for the rest of the night. Ummm…what?

Is he still in high school or something? What the fuck is going on here? What am I missing? I mean, I realize what it all means, I just don’t get it. A) The behavior is completely unacceptable and is making things awkward when it doesn’t have to be (which sucks because he works at one of my favorite bars), and B) it totally doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I was pressuring this guy for a relationship – we’d been on one date, and not to put too fine a point on it but he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material. So why the sudden turn-around and weird behavior?

Can I call him out on all of this? Of course not – I know that – it would just make him think I’m a psycho. So men out there, please explain this to me. Ask follow-up questions if you need more info. And is there anything I can do/say to the emotionally stunted moron to make things less awkward in the future? I don’t want to lose this bar. For the first time in a long time I didn’t see a blow-off coming and I can’t for the life of me figure out why it happened – I am generally very good at figuring out men, but this one has stumped me. And how do I deal with him from here?

Ugh – men.

Am I Too Judgmental?

2010-02-03T15:38:00.002-05:00

So I’m on the subway this morning, and there’s this delicious guy standing near me – tall, blond, beautifully dressed, the works. And as we’re making eyes at each other, I realize something…he has popped the collar of his camel hair coat. I found myself distracted by this. Just how large of a douche does a guy have to be to try to pull this off? To me the popped collar, on a perfectly fitted camel hair coat no less, was like an 8 out of 10 on the douche scale. So when he caught my eye again and smiled, I looked away. Too harsh?

Let me say this about the popped collar – not only is it a throwback to the ‘80s, John Hughes, rich/bad-boy douchiness of yore, but it looks stupid! What? Are you protecting the back of your neck from the wind? (Note: Subway Guy was wearing a scarf, so that excuse doesn’t fly.)

Not surprisingly, I found myself unable to overlook the fashion faux pas. Another fashion faux pas I found distracting this week – Jake’s turtleneck on The Bachelor. When did men start wearing turtlenecks again? And can they please stop? I find it difficult to take a man in a turtleneck seriously. (I find it difficult to take a man – or woman – on The Bachelor seriously anyway, but I digress.)

Actually, this feels like something I should address – yes, I’m watching The Bachelor this season. Now most people who know me are aware that I don’t watch much reality TV (I find it uncomfortable and embarrassing for me to watch), but this year…I got sucked in. I was babysitting my nephews a few weeks ago, and after I put them to bed I found myself flipping through like 700 TV channels and finding nothing on. Eventually I gave up and settled in to watch the first episode of The Bachelor: On the Wings of Love (no, I’m not joking – that’s the title of the show). It was horrifying – I kept covering my eyes it was so awkward at times – and yet ever since I’ve been tuning in to see what happens next. I don't know, I guess I care which woman with painfully low self-esteem the bachelor will end up with. Or I'm just really bored on Monday nights. Feel free to make fun of me, I won’t fight you.

Anyway yeah, popped collars and men in turtlenecks – deal breakers? Am I being too judgmental? Or am I actually not going far enough? Maybe I’m forgetting about some even more egregious offenses. Hit me up in the comments to let me know your thoughts.

I'm Inappropriate

2010-01-28T11:08:00.003-05:00

So I’m sitting in my office this morning, checking emails, when the following exchange took place. This actually happened:

(Note: My assistant and I generally communicate by yelling to one another; this is because we’re both entirely too lazy to get up and walk 6 feet to the others desk every time we need to speak.)

Assistant: Hey, did you see the dik dik!
Redhead: Oh, you mean Greg Oden? Totally! I mean, I know he’s like 7 feet tall, but still – congratulations to him!
Assistant: Wait, what?!
Redhead: Hmmm?
Assistant: What did you say?
Redhead: I said congratulations to Greg Oden and his little man.
Assistant: (finally standing up and coming to my door) Are you insane?
Redhead: Probably.
Assistant: Where did that come from?
Redhead: We were talking about Greg Oden.
Assistant: I was talking about a dik dik.
Redhead: Right.
Assistant: Do you know what a dik dik is?
Redhead: Yes, I am over the age of 12.
Assistant: I’m not sure you are. I was talking about a small animal that looks kind of like a deer.
Redhead: (head tilt – look of confusion)
Assistant: Didn’t you check Cute Overload today?
Redhead: Not yet. (turning bright red) So…um…there’s an animal on there called a dik dik?
Assistant: (nods head)
Redhead: So that's a real thing?
Assistant: (nods again)
Redhead: How many people heard our earlier conversation?
Assistant: Well, considering how loud you are…
Redhead: That’s awkward.

Seriously though - did any of you people know there was such a thing as a dik dik (and that it was an animal) before reading this?

It's Only Tuesday

2009-12-08T10:19:00.002-05:00

Shockingly, painfully hungover. Had a business dinner last night – we started with drinks at 6:30, had a couple of cocktails before sitting down to dinner, drank several bottles of wine with dinner, scotches with dessert, and finally, blessedly, we finished up around midnight.

I grabbed a cab home, and at some point realized that my motor skills were not what they should be (barely had the capability to make it up the stairs to my apartment, and it took me a few minutes to figure out how to unlock my door). Thought I would die when my alarm went off at 6:15 this morning, but like a champ I got up. My boss looked like hell when she arrived in the office, my assistant only just got here (almost an hour late), apparently I sent out a couple of emails that weren’t exactly coherent (since I was the first one at my desk and felt I should do something – I'm so stupid), and we’re all hurting. A lot. Life sucks all around, and we have another business dinner tonight. Also, company Christmas party tomorrow night, a date on Thursday night, and another date on Friday night – help. Just want to curl up and die.

Note: It seems our waiter last night was given my phone number – I was not the one who gave it to him. How does this kind of shit happen at a business dinner, you ask? I don’t know. I just do not know.

Any and all hangover cures are welcome in the comments section. Fuck, I’m not going to make it.

Cheating = Bad

2009-12-04T09:39:00.006-05:00

Okay you asked for it (actually, Cobra asked for it) – what are my real feelings on Tiger and the whole cheating scandal? Well, not to completely pile on to a story that has already been beaten to death, but…

(Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that I’m an extremely opinionated person, and that I have an edge to my personality that can seem a little harsh to people who don’t know me well. Because of this I’ve moved away from doing too many opinion pieces around here – mainly because people freak the fuck out and don’t seem to get that I have humor and sanity hidden behind what I say. But I do, so calm down. Okay?)

Alright, my thoughts on cheating in general (I believe I’ve said this here before): If you want to be with someone other than your partner, and you’re not married, feel free – but end your current relationship first you spineless dipshit! You’re not legally bound to the person, but still show some fucking respect and end things properly before moving on; you don’t want to be that guy/girl. However, I will concede that if you aren’t married and you do cheat, it is not the end of the world and no physical harm should come to you. Dickhead.

Now, if you are married…sucks to be you! I’m imagining you willingly entered into the institution of marriage, where you swore to remain faithful, so..there you go. It’s not complicated – you’re married, you want to fuck someone else, but you DON’T. Because you made the choice to spend the rest of your life with that one person, and you gave your word to not fuck with their trust (maybe not with exactly that verbiage, but you get my point), so man up. It’s called willpower. Cheating is a practice of the mentally and emotionally weak. I have no respect for the weak.

And as for Cobra’s little clarification, “My post request is for professional athletes and marriage, not normal people. Huge difference.” Well my friend, I beg to differ. I don’t think there is a difference. Does money and opportunity really make a difference? Look, I can see that some couples enter into marriage with different ground rules than others, and I can’t speak to that. I will say that I have gotten the impression Tiger’s wife wasn’t cool with the idea of her man fucking anyone other than her. Should she have expected it? No, not if he told her he wouldn’t.

I tend to view things in a realistic (if somewhat black and white) way. If Elin was at all aware of reality and how professional athletes conduct their personal lives (and she should have been), then it was her responsibility to make her views on the topic clear before they got married (ie. don’t do it or I’ll come after you with a golf club). And she should have made sure Tiger was on the same page.

But after that I think she had every right to trust him and believe he would remain faithful, because fuck everyone else and what they do; it’s not her job to worry about the egos and character issues of the other 99% of professional athletes. If her man was strong enough to keep his word – as he should have been – then that’s all that matters. I don’t care that he has hot young things throwing themselves at him 24 hours a day. How hard is it to not do something? It’s harder to sneak someone into your room, lie to your wife, lie to your fans, and pay people off than to just GO TO YOUR ROOM ALONE.

Hell, as an attractive woman living in NYC it’s not exactly hard for me to get male attention. But I manage to remain faithful when I’m in a relationship (and I’m not even married)! It’s called not doing shit when the opportunity presents itself. And trust me, even when there's serious temptation there (and sometimes it is serious) it’s still not difficult to do nothing – inactivity is surprisingly easy.

So to sum up – 1) People who cheat are fucking worthless, weak, and undeserving of even the most superficial respect. 2) Athletes are people – read the previous sentence again if you’re still confused. 3) I liked Elin’s fire when I heard she’d lost her shit on Tiger. Now everything’s quiet, and it looks like he’s paying her off. While I’m not a fan of sticking around for any reason after cheating goes down (I say get a really good lawyer and walk away with his money AND your dignity), if you are going to stay then I am a firm believer in torturing the other person along the way. In other words, I hope Elin keeps Tiger on a VERY short leash, treats him terribly in private, and gets a sick amount of money – that she couldn’t get in a divorce – for her troubles.

Oh, and on a completely unrelated (but unbelievably awesome) note, I’ve attached a link to a story about the Bad Sex Fiction Award. I didn’t even know such an award existed, but I am seriously thrilled to hear that it does! I will admit to almost losing my shit while reading this (at work – of course). Click the link and enjoy the awfulness. Happy Friday everyone!

Fa La La La La

2009-12-02T11:41:00.001-05:00

The holidays are tiring. I am going out EVERY NIGHT next week (and the week after that is looking a little crazy too). Is it too early to already want to spend a night in my pajamas doing nothing? Yup, I’m lazy.

Quick comment about the Tiger Woods thing (because of course I’m finding this fascinating): If Tiger’s wife did actually beat him up and take a golf club to his car for cheating…well that’s just fucking AWESOME! Way to not take it lying down, Elin! I’ve gone from indifference to legitimately liking her, purely on the basis of rumors. Nice work.

‘Tis the season. I’ve got three dates lined up in the next two weeks (nicely fit in around all the holiday parties). All with different guys, and all of the guys are suitably adorable. And every single one of them asked ME out. ‘Thank God,’ says my ego. (Yes, my ego talks now.)

How many pumpkin muffins is too many to eat in one day? 4? Not…um…not that I ate 4 pumpkin muffins on Sunday while I was hung over. Obviously. That would be a terrible idea; practically the same as just sitting there eating a stick of butter. It’s just that, you know, they come in 4-packs so I couldn’t just buy one. And they were going out of season so I wasn’t going to see new ones until next fall. It… Yeah, okay, I have no excuse.

Seriously, I think they’re trying to freeze us out of my office. I am sitting at my desk wearing my scarf and jacket. My assistant is wearing a scarf and like 3 sweaters. WTF? They haven’t gotten the temperature right in this place in like 2 months!

Something to think on (I’ll tell you why later): What is one thing that you think a person should do before ‘growing up’? There are no rules on this, but I want serious answers (assuming anyone reads this site anymore). OK, go.

Stop the Morons

2009-11-20T10:08:00.004-05:00

Not to make this blog all about my dog, but I really feel like this next story sums me up very, very well.

So my mother was at the dog park the other day with The Dog, and a woman came up to them as they were entering. Now my mother and The Dog are regulars at the park - this is mainly because The Dog has ants in her pants, and she needs at least 2 hours a day of running to keep her from destroying the house - so chances are good this woman had seen them there before. So this woman comes up to my mother and asks – I shit you not – “Do you think The Dog is embarrassed about the way she looks?”

Some background info: The Dog is a rescue. She was born with a fused vertebrae in her spine and couldn’t walk for the first few months of her life. After many surgeries and physical therapy (with horses…in a pool!), she now moves around like a champ – she hops her back legs rather than walking ‘normally,’ she has no tail, and yeah, her hips look a little different. But she’s fucking fine people! She’s happy, we love her to death, and she was absolutely our first choice when we were looking for a dog. She is hands down the most good-natured dog you’ll ever meet.

Oh, and the quickest way to piss me off is to look at her with pity in your eyes. What the fuck are you looking at ASSHOLE?!

Back to the story. So Stupid Woman has gone up to my mother and asked her if The Dog – a fucking DOG – is embarrassed by the way she looks. What kind of stupidity is that? My comment, when my mother told me the story, was, “I hope you responded by saying, ‘No, are you embarrassed by the way you look, Fatty?’”

Sadly, my mother did not say that. And when I retold the story (complete with my suggested response) to my boss – my BOSS – yesterday, she just looked at me, shook her head, and said, “You really shouldn’t be allowed out in public sometimes. You know that, right?”

In all fairness, my boss had to drag me away from a cop that I was yelling at last week (long story). Still, is it my fault I can’t stand stupid, ignorant jackasses? My motto in life: Stop the morons.

Dogs and Stuff

2009-11-11T10:10:00.005-05:00

-So I went to visit my parents last Sunday and was chilling out on the couch – look who joined me! Best. Dewlaps. Ever.

Speaking of the awesome dog, she did something 2 weeks ago that still kills me. Where to begin… OK, so my father is a bit of a workaholic. He’s also a very successful lawyer and a great dad, but he is known for being a bit of a scary dude in his office. I don’t know, maybe it was time he was brought down a peg – let’s call it karma.

Anyway it was a Saturday (again, 2 weeks ago), and my father went to the office to pick up some files – he was having a client over to our house for a meeting and needed them. Since he normally runs errands on Saturday mornings with the dog (both are creatures of habit), he decided to bring her with him. Sounds fine, right?

Yeah, it seemed fine. My father worked for a bit in his office, gathered the files he needed, and went to find the dog. She had been wandering, and had somehow found her way to the reception area – there was a motion sensor that kept beeping every time she passed the door; she found this fascinating. Grabbing a hold of her leash, they left.

Fast forward to Monday morning. My father was in court when he got an email from his office manager. Rather, the entire office got an email which simply said: Was anyone in the office over the weekend? Tentatively, my father replied that he had. (I say this is where he went wrong – always know the whole story before confessing to anything.)

Turns out I was right. Long story short, our dog has found the other large corner office, and decided that was a great place to take a massive dump. And my father had already admitted he was there! What was he thinking?! Rule #1: Never admit to being responsible for the pile of shit in someone's office! I mean, I've never been responsible for anything like that before (thank God), but even I know that!

I feel like this is a good time to point out that we’ve had this dog for over 6 months, and she’s never had an accident in the house. Yet for some reason A’s office (A is the other senior partner in the firm by the way) just brought out the animal in her. And wow…it had been sitting there all weekend.

Awesome, right? My father was understandably embarrassed. My mother and I were (and are) so amused by this that we still can’t talk about it without losing our shit. And the dog – well, does she look remorseful?

On the plus side, my parents took A and his wife out to dinner as an apology, and A finally got to meet our new puppy (which he’s been meaning to do anyway). So all's well that ends well. (Oh, and he admits that she’s very, very cute…and very, very big.)

God I love dogs.

-Man vs. Food is on tonight – I am shockingly obsessed with this show. Oh, and I think I’ve figured out why America has an obesity problem. It was a toughie, but I’m really, really smart.

-We’re celebrating Christine’s birthday this weekend – if I survive this it will be a miracle.

-There’s a creepy guy who lives in an apartment across the way from mine. At night he stands at his window and watches me. When I look across at him (glare actually – dude, you’re freaking me out!), he waves. I really, really want this to stop. How do I do that without pissing him off too much? After all, he does know where I live. (I realize new curtains would be a good option, but my cat…she destroys them like it’s her job.) Can I somehow suggest to this guy that he needs to get a fucking TV and stop making me his evening entertainment? Nicely, of course - the last thing I need is another psycho in my life.

Alright, back to work – I’m in meeting hell this week.

Who's a Huge Loser?

2009-11-08T12:56:00.006-05:00

It’s been a weird and difficult month. Difficult because work has been…trying (we had another reorganization – for those who are counting that’s 3 in the past year - and we had a trip to Germany thrown in there, and an executive retreat last week which was…um, strange). It was also difficult because I lost 3 people in the past month – 2 coworkers and 1 close family friend. The family friend was actually my nephews’ godmother; she was in her mid-30s, had gotten married just last year, was kind and accomplished, and she died. It hit everyone hard, struck me as profoundly unfair, and it affected me in some truly unexpected ways.

Which leads to the weird. You see, when someone so young and wonderful passes away, it really puts things in perspective. For me it gave me a feeling of ‘seize the day’, ‘no regrets’, ‘you only live once’, etc. etc. And I did something I’ve NEVER done before in my life – I asked out a complete stranger.

I blame it on Paris. Actually, I blame it on sitting down and re-reading the book, Blame it on Paris. The book is a memoir of sorts. In it the main character, Laura, finally gives in and asks out a guy that she has had a crush on for a while. She doesn’t even know his name. And as I was reading the following passage (after a couple of cocktails), I lost my mind.

(A brief set-up: Laura leaves her name, number, and a party invitation for her waiter – a guy she’s liked from afar for months – under the tab at his restaurant. She expects never to hear from him and is in complete shock when he calls. She goes to her friends – the very people who talked her into doing this – to tell them.)

At work, Valerie and Giulia stared at me as if I had just shown up in a beret. “You actually DID it? You asked out some man you didn’t even know? I’ve never known anyone to do something like that before!”

I counted to ten. “You told me French women did that kind of thing all the time. You told me you wouldn’t hesitate a second. You told me I was a wimp, you-“

“Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that in my life. We just made all that up to encourage you! We didn’t think you would actually fall for it!”

I folded my arms. “Why is it that all my friends have a vicarious taste for adventure for which I’m always the damned patsy?”

Valerie grinned at me. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

I don’t know what it was, but it stuck me while I was reading – if she can do it then why the hell can’t I? So I emailed a guy I’ve had a crush on from afar, and I asked him out. (You get no more info from me on this – just know that he was a complete stranger.) I didn’t actually think I would send the email. I did.

When I woke up the next morning all I could think was, ‘Oh no. No no no no no. I didn’t, did I?’

I did. And he had emailed me back.

Shockingly, he was very nice about my moment of insanity. And being the bravest man in the world (apparently), he agreed to meet me. It was both amazing and embarrassing. And of course, now I actually had to go on the date.

I won’t get too into it, but I was nervous. Now you guys know that I don’t get nervous over guys – men are easy for me. I don’t mean that in a conceited way, but since I generally don’t give a shit about them, I tend to come across as pretty cool. I’m fun and I have my shit together. I don’t panic, I don’t worry, and if I want to see them again, I normally do.

That is not what happened. I blame some of it on the fact that I felt pretty pathetic and stalkerish over what I had done, and some of it on the fact that I had sort of built this guy up in my mind over time. In other words, I already liked him – he had all the power before it even began.

Long story short, it was like I had taken a truth serum before we met. I was a fucking spaz, tossing out information about myself that I NEVER talk about. Hello, I’ve been writing this blog for years and never once have I mentioned that I used to be an actress. That’s because I feel stupid talking about it. He found out within the first hour of meeting me. I talked…a lot. He was actually pretty awesome.

So it should come as no surprise to anyone (least of all me) that he hasn't exactly been jumping at the opportunity to see me again. But it’s bothering me. I think it’s bothering me for a lot of reasons. Top of that list is ego, of course – you like someone and you want them to like you, and when they don’t…it sucks. There’s also confusion (with myself, not with him) – I mean, why do I care? Why am I thinking about it so much? When did I regress back to high school, a time when I hadn’t figured out guys (or myself) yet? So what that it didn’t work out – at least I gave it a shot, right?

Well, yes. But I think what’s really bothering me is that after the month that I’ve had, I feel like it should have turned out differently. I mean, why do something so completely out of character for nothing? If I’m going to grab life by the horns, shouldn’t something extraordinary happen? If I’m going to put myself out there and actually care about the outcome (for once), shouldn’t I be rewarded for that? And then I think, ‘What, are you 16 years old? Cut that shit out!’

Since when do I believe in fate? Since when do I care about a first date? Since when do I even notice if I haven’t heard from someone in a week? What the hell? Where is my dignity and can I please have it back?

OK, self-therapy session over. As you were.

Other than that – GO YANKS! (At least that part of the month was awesome.)

Thoughts?

2009-09-15T11:53:00.004-04:00

Hey, so I know I haven't been around here in a while, and I'm assuming no one even visits anymore, but on the off chance that you have stumbled by...

Thoughts on the below stockings? I've been going through a super-duper girly stage recently, and it's made me do a lot of shopping. Admittedly, most of the stuff I've been buying hasn't been...essential. But it has been fun, and I want to look hot. So with that in mind (but also keeping in mind that I'm not a whore) - is there really any chance I'll wear these? I was thinking with a short little black dress, but...are they too much? Thoughts?

Feel…So…Good - Update

2009-08-14T10:32:00.006-04:00

I’m freshly back from Bermuda people – tanned, relaxed, happy…I give myself until around Tuesday before I’m stressed and angry again, but for now…bliss.

Sorry I’ve been out of touch as of late. Between the vacation, an office change (and I mean an entirely new building – have you ever packed up a couple THOUSAND books in less than a week?), a midsummer cold, and a new boy to flirt with, I’ve been busy. But I’m back, temporarily in a good mood, and ready to babble. So what do you guys want to talk about?

Well until you come up with something, let me touch on a few things that have been on my mind:

-That Baskin Robbins commercial (pretty sure it’s Baskin Robbins…I think…wow, that’s good advertising if I can’t even remember what company it’s for) - you know, the one with the song. The one that goes:
Ice creamy cakey cake!
Ice creamy cakey cake!
Ice creamy cake do the ice creamy cake!
Ice creamy cake do the ice creamy cake!
Ice creamy cake do the ice creamy cake!
I can’t get this fucking song out of my head (and I sing along whenever I hear it, which is ALL THE TIME). Do you know the commercial I’m talking about? Is the song now stuck in your brain too? Yes? Good.

-Why is it so hard to properly apply sunscreen? Why are my knees burned but not my thighs or stomach? Why is the tip of my nose burned but not the rest of my face? Am I a moron? Don’t answer that.

-I love giraffes – I just think they’re the coolest.

-Finally got around to watching Generation Kill – fucking awesome. Get off your ass and Netflix it.

-Alexander Skarsgard (I’m missing some sort of accent in there - he's Swedish...mmm), the star of Generation Kill and True Blood, is my new celebrity crush. He absolutely could not be more my type if he tried. Google him, he's nummy.

-Speaking of True Blood, I have to say that I’m just not that into it. I say that while freely admitting I watch the show and enjoy certain parts, but overall…I think I’m missing something. Why does everyone love it so much? I find the majority of the characters (not Eric, obviously) really annoying. Thoughts?

-And finally, I get this email every Friday from a guy I know – he sends it out to a bunch of people – and in it he always gives us a bunch of random facts he found that week. I figured I’d share the fun today and copy/paste a few:

Percentage of Americans who say that God has spoken to them: 36%

Percentage of American men who say they would marry the same woman if they had it to do all over again: 80%;
Percentage of American women who say they would marry the same man: 50%

Percentage of men who say they are happier after their divorce or separation: 58%;
Percentage of women who say they are happier after their divorce or separation: 85%

Number of different family relationships for which Hallmark makes cards: 105

Average life span of a major league baseball: 7 pitches

Percentage of bird species that are monogamous: 90%;
Percentage of mammal species that are: 3%

OK that’s it – Happy Friday everyone!

Update: I have found the greatest blog ever. Please click here - if you don't appreciate this, we can't be friends.

I Have No Idea Why I Found This So Funny

2009-07-15T08:56:00.001-04:00

So I’m walking through the subway station yesterday, and I see this couple walking towards me. They’re holding hands, talking – generally unnoticeable. I wouldn’t have even registered their existence if the guy hadn’t suddenly stopped walking, an expression of complete shock on his face. The chick just kept on going.

I don’t know, all of a sudden I was intrigued. What did she say? Obviously it was surprising, since he stopped dead and looked fucking stunned. But the thing was she just kept on going, like she was either a) expecting this reaction from him, or b) didn’t care. Either way…awesome.

So there I was, thinking of all the things she could have said to elicit this reaction. Wondering what she could say in a crowded (it was rush hour) train station that would be that interesting. So I started playing with all the possibilities while I made my way home.

My favorite was she’d just told him she’d slept with his brother. I don’t know why, but that one cracked me up. I mean, how genius would it be to tell him, like it’s no big deal, while holding hands and walking through the subway station? He couldn’t very well kill her there, right? Kind of a smart move to do it in public actually.

Another theory I had was that she had told him she was pregnant. You know, because who needs privacy for a discussion like that, right?

Wow, I could play this game all day. Anyway, those were my top two. Do you guys have any you want to throw out there? The floor is yours.

10 Things

2009-07-08T09:46:00.003-04:00

1) I love the smell of the farmer’s market in Union Square. I walk through it year-round (got to get to work somehow), but in the summertime the smells just go off the charts. Whether it’s the strawberries (mmmm, strawberries) or the basil, it just makes mornings so much more enjoyable. Two enthusiastic thumbs up.

2) UFC 100 is this weekend! I’m finding a bar that’s willing to pay the $45 to get the fights, and I’m not budging until it’s over. NONE of my friends want to go with me, so it looks like I’m spending my Saturday night solo. But guess what – I don’t care! The only sad part is my brother is going to be there, in Vegas, because his job actually requires it (my fucking job now officially sucks), and apparently I don’t fit in his suitcase. Not. Fair.

3) Christine was fired again. That makes 3 jobs in the last 4 years. This is getting awkward.

4) So I’m reading GENERATION KILL by Evan Wright – I wanted to read it before I finally got around to watching it (months late) on On Demand. I’ve got to say, it’s ridiculously good. Well written, engrossing, disturbing, just…amazing really. Only now I’m a little nervous about watching the series; I’ve heard good things about it, but there’s no way it’s ever going to live up to the book. Ah well, I’m still excited.

5) Linda got married a week and a half ago – I was a bridesmaid. I wore a killer dress (yay to letting the bridesmaids choose their own dresses). The reception was wayyyyy too much fun. I’ll write more about it soon. Probably.

6) People are gross. So a few days ago it got a little warm in NYC (finally), and I hopped the subway downtown. I get in the subway car and instantly realize that the air conditioning isn’t working, but decide to suck it up rather than go on walkabout to find a better car. Big mistake. The dude sitting across from me, in denim shorts no less – no man should ever wear denim shorts…ever…for any reason – is sweating like a pig. That’s gross enough. But then, he pulls out a tissue and starts WIPING HIS HAIRY LEGS WITH IT! I guess he was trying to cool off/mop up the sweat. But either way…ewwwww. I have no words. I still feel a little nauseous when I think about it. People, when you are on the subway you are in public! We can see you! Stop with the weird crap!

7) So after a long winter of being a lazy shit I finally started working out again. My ass is grateful. The rest of me fucking hates it.

8) I’ve decided that I’m sick of meeting men in bars, and the blind dates my friends have been setting me up on lately have been…bad. Any suggestions (NOT match.com) on good ways to meet men? I refuse to date anyone I work with, and I’m running out of options here.

9) I have a new word that I’ve been using a lot lately, and I’m more than willing to admit I have no clue what it means. My new word is: jiggity.

10) And the big news – my parents got a new dog! We’re so excited to have her in the family (we got her from Boxer Rescue and she’s…SO fab), and I am completely, 100% in love. Here she is:

Ridiculously cute, right?

That’s it for now. I think I might post again in the next few days. Hey, it could happen!

I'm in 'Girl Jail'

2009-06-15T11:29:00.003-04:00

This was an actual conversation about another (different) conversation - let's just jump right in and skip the intro:

Redhead: And then I used the c-word.
Christine: Wait…what?!
Redhead: I honestly don’t think I’ve ever used it out loud before, but it just kind of popped out.
Christine: What was the context?
Redhead: I was…you know…talking about the body part.
Christine: WAIT...WHAT?!
Redhead: It kind of fit naturally into the conversation at the time. The guy seemed surprised though.
Christine: No shit. Men are afraid of that word (for good fucking reason)! But you…you should know better!
Redhead: I know.
Christine: Bad!
Redhead: I know!
Christine: That’s it – give your girl card back!
Redhead: Stop yelling at me!

Annddddd....scene.

Turns out girls aren't allowed to use the c-word either - did anyone else know this? Can I ask a question here? What exactly is so bad about the word? I know it's a no-no and everything, but...why?

Anyway, so now I'm in 'girl trouble' - whatever that is - and I guess I'm in 'girl jail' (which I just made up). Mental shrug.

May – The Month of Lust

2009-06-03T15:10:00.003-04:00

Seriously, that’s what Christine proclaimed after some completely ridiculous behavior (on both our parts) last month. Thank God it’s over! Note: I’m actually kind of sad it’s over; we had a lot of fun. Don’t judge me!

Anywho, sort of on the same topic but not really, have any of you people ever heard of the ‘Irish Curse’? Christine spent a really long time last weekend trying to convince me that there is such a thing. Essentially all it refers to is an entire county’s...well, there’s really no nice way to say this – dick size. Apparently Irishmen have wee little peckers. Now I’ve dated an Irish dude a time or two, and honestly…I don’t know. I wasn’t overwhelmed by their size or anything, but I wasn’t laughing at it (on the inside of course) either. Am I just terribly unobservant? Is there a nugget (tee hee) of truth there?

Thoughts? No? OK, moving on…

Ooh, before we do – and while we’re on the subject of Irish dicks – it turns out that Christine wants to spend some time with a particular one. One that you all know (but not as well as I do – oo-er). Wow, when did I get so dirty?

Anyway, I keep going off on tangents, but the big news is…Christine wants to fuck my Bartender! (You may remember him from here and here.) And you know what – I was totally fine with it. In fact, my response was pretty unequivocal:

Redhead: I bequeath him to you – go forth and prosper!

Not surprisingly I was super duper drunk when I said that. But still, the sentiment stands. I don’t want him, and he’s cute and fun, so she can (and should) have him. The only problem is I missed a golden opportunity there, and I’m bummed I didn’t take the time to properly fuck with my friend.

Now, in the sober light of day, all I can think is I should have gotten something for my troubles (and by troubles, I mean handing over my sloppy seconds to Christine). Where’s the guilt trip she should be on? Where’s my free meal/free drinks? Where’s the groveling that is expected when a friend moves in on your (sort of) ex?

I’ll tell you where – it’s at the bottom of my scotch glass. Along with my pride.

Hmmm, and on a completely unrelated note, guess what I had for breakfast this morning? Rolos! Do you guys remember those? I hadn’t seen them in years, but when I stumbled to the vending machine this morning to buy myself breakfast (I swear they sell granola bars in the vending machine, so it’s not always quite as bad as it sounds), what did I see? Rolos! Those bit size caramels covered in chocolate – do you remember them? The ones that are REALLY chewy and make you drool all over yourself. Just me?

Well I bought them, and let me tell you – they were AWESOME! I didn’t even feel stupid (well…not really) when my assistant came into my office and found me slobbering all over myself while eating one.

OK, that’s enough for today. Hey, maybe I’ll post again sometime this month! Wouldn’t that be cool?! Yeah, we’ll see.

Someone Just Sent This to Me - I Had to Share

2009-04-20T11:12:00.003-04:00

So my friends forward me stupid shit to read all the time, but this one I really enjoyed. And because I'm so awesome, I decided to share it with you fine people. Laziest post ever? Yes, laziest post ever. (But damn I'm good.)

Hell explained by a Chemistry student

The following is an actual bonus question given on a University of Washington chemistry midterm. The answer by one student was so 'profound' that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:
1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED AN A+.

OK, One of These Things Isn’t Funny (I’ll Try Harder Next Time)

2009-04-15T20:17:00.002-04:00

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?

You think?

-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?

I'm Never Drinking Again

2009-03-18T12:22:00.003-04:00

At some point I'm going to learn my lesson and stop going out on St. Patty's Day. (I'm so hung over right now...ugh, the pain - some holidays should not be allowed to take place on a Tuesday.)

So, do you ever wake up the morning after going out, and as details of the night start coming back to you all you can think is, 'Oh, FUCK no!'?

Did I really say those things? Did I really do those things?

Um, and on a not unrelated note I am no longer seeing the guy I mentioned in the last post.

If This Seems All Over the Place, It’s Because I’m All Over the Place

2009-03-17T12:54:00.000-04:00

I finally saw He’s Just Not that Into You, and I can honestly say that piece of shit movie was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever sat through (and I just watched Fool’s Gold on HBO).

Christine and I went, both really excited to see a slightly exaggerated, funny take on dating today. What we got was a cringe-inducing 2 hours that in no way reflected ANY females I know. I turned to Christine as the credits rolled and said, ‘That had to have been written by a man. I don’t know any woman who would do any of those things.’

Christine’s response was simple – ‘I can’t believe I spent $12.50 on that; what a fucking rip-off.’ No shit.

I’m leaving for Italy this weekend. I’m going for work (just like last year), but unlike last year I’m not taking a vacation after. Oh no, that would be too relaxing. Instead I’m just going to keep running myself into the ground until eventually I collapse. (Please God, let me collapse soon – I think I’ve been running on fumes for the past 2 weeks.)

People, I’m stressed. I’m stressed about being out of the office next week, I’m stressed about 4th quarter (we’re preparing for it now – good timing to go out of the country for the week, right?), I’m stressed about my personal life (I’m dating a guy that I don’t really like, but I like how much he likes me – yes, I know how pathetic that sounds), I’m stressed about leaving my cat in the care of Christine while I’m gone (oh please, please, please let her – my cat, not Christine – be alive when I get back), and most of all, I’m stressed about the main thing that’s REALLY making me stressed…

I quit smoking. Or I’m in the process of doing so – cold turkey (I get off on asserting my willpower…normally…well, not right now). And it’s making me…restless. Uncomfortably so.

Honestly, I’ve tried to quit in the past, but I never really wanted to so I put in a half-assed effort every time (which never works). Now I really want to quit – I think…fuck! – and I’m finding it…AGH!

(A note to everyone who is sitting there thinking ‘Smoking is a stupid and disgusting habit, she shouldn’t have started to begin with and she deserves the discomfort she’s experiencing now.’ Um, 1) Fuck you, and 2) No shit, Sherlock.)

Anyway, everything seems to be boiling down to one solid fact: I CAN’T RELAX! At all. I am dead serious here people, I am INCAPABLE of relaxing right now, and it’s driving me insane.

Most people who know me describe me as some variation of the following group of adjectives: loyal, occasionally distant/cold, funny, sarcastic, and LAID BACK. I don’t get worked up by a lot, and people comment on that! All the time. But now…

I used to get up in the morning, pop open a Red Bull/drink a cup of coffee, and have a cigarette. I used to get home from work and relax with a cigarette. I used to have a cigarette while I was reading, or watching TV. You know…relaxing stuff. Only now every time I want to relax, I can’t have a cigarette…which means I can’t relax. I can’t watch TV. I can’t read. Every time I sit down I want a cigarette, so I haven’t been sitting down when I’m at home (I never smoked during the day at work, so that’s not really a problem). Instead I pace, and stare at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, until I finally have to leave and go for a walk.

I’m a nervous breakdown waiting to happen.

I’ve also been cleaning my apartment obsessively because (stop me if you’ve heard this already) I CAN’T SIT DOWN inside of it. You know what’s also hard to do when you can’t stop pacing while at home – that’s right, eating. Most people gain weight when they quit smoking, but not me…I’m too fucking high strung to eat right now. I also can’t stop jiggling my foot.

Yup, I was a ‘relaxing smoker’ it seems – I smoked to unwind, to relax, to KEEP MYSELF STILL. Now that I can’t, I CAN’T SLOW DOWN. And I’m stressing myself out with no end in sight.

So yeah, that’s what’s going on with me. What’s up with you? Anyone still here?

Not Tonight Alex - I Have a Headache

2009-02-19T11:22:00.005-05:00

If I make it through this week it will be a miracle. I have 3 (fucking 3!) business dinners, meetings all day every day, a backlog of contracts that really need to be addressed at some point (yeah, I’ll get right on that Boss), and a guy who’s ALREADY driving me nuts (serves me right for thinking I could trust my judgment after 4 hours of drinking – stop texting me dude!). So what am I doing right now? Catching up on all my work/composing a text that will make Stalker Guy go away for good? Nah, I’m passing judgment on…

A-Rod.

You all knew it was coming. It seems my dirty little secret had a dirty little secret. As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough by my crush, he then had to go and make himself look like more of a jackass. Thanks sweetie.

I should probably clarify something here – I’m not embarrassed and horrified that Alex did steroids. Ignoring my slightly unusual obsession with A-Rod (shut up), I really do have my shit together regarding most things; I like to say I live in a little place called ‘reality.’ So after getting over my first reaction to the news, which was something along the lines of ‘Jesus Christ, ANOTHER one? Fucking Yankees!’ I quickly settled into my second reaction, which was ‘eh.’

Let me ask the baseball fans who visit this site something – were you surprised that A-Rod used steroids? Because I sure wasn’t. This is a dude who a) was playing during what we now refer to as the Steroid Era, and b) is known for being an insecure people-pleaser (and an inept one at that). Was there any chance he WASN’T using? Ah A-Rod, my little spastic mess.

Anyway now that a week has passed since the news broke, I can honestly say he’s handling himself…um, yeah, he’s handling himself poorly. Sorry, but it's true. The press conference on Tuesday was painful to watch. But overall my main concern is whether (or rather how much) this will affect him throughout the season. Much as I’d like to have the guy in my bed, I can honestly say I have no interest in dealing with his neuroses. So Alex, please for the love of God GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! I need you to not fuck up this year – 2008 was painful enough for me; I like seeing my team actually win every once in a while, and you are a distraction we do not need. So step away from the microphone and get back on the field; I know you and your teammates have better ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon. Oh, and hire a new PR team – your current one sucks.

Now to take my lovely Alex’s place in my heart, I give you Frank Lampard. Ladies, he’s newly single, plays soccer (so great legs are guaranteed - seriously, look down), and is filthy rich – who wants to move to London with me?

2 Years - Time Sure Does Fly By When You're Not Posting!

2009-02-16T12:01:00.006-05:00

(Note: I was going to post this on Saturday, but then I forgot – kind of a theme around here actually.)

So I’m not going to apologize, I’m not going to offer up lengthy explanations, and I’m not going to feel guilty – I’ve been taking a break from the blog, people! However, I had to come back to celebrate the 2 year anniversary of said blog (even though, yes, my upkeep for the last 6 months has been shitty at best - and I missed the anniversary...oops). Still, if there’s anyone who still comes here…some thoughts:

Hmmm, when was the last time we spoke? Fuck, a lot has happened since then. I’ve dated and broken up with at least 2 guys – one I dated specifically because he had a really cute dog…hey, there are worse reasons to date a guy. I’m writing a book which is taking up a lot of my writing/blogging time. I’m looking to buy an apartment which is taking up a lot of my sanity (godDAMN that’s a lot of money to just fork over all at once!). Work is nuts, but at least I’m still being paid to do it (which is more than a lot of my friends can say right now). And I took some time out to discover the meaning of life (but I’m not telling you what it is – that would be cheating).

Other than that, what else has been up? Oh, I finally got around to meeting one of you nutjobs – something I swore I’d never do – so, mcbias, take a bow. Hmmm…what else…?

(Another note: Please keep in mind that I was going to post this on Saturday, so just pretend that it’s Valentine’s Day while reading – it was kind of the theme of the post and I don’t feel like rewriting everything.)

-Actually, since I didn’t post on Saturday I will give you a quick rundown of my V-Day:
Tried to go see He’s Just Not That Into You with Christine (we figured let’s just embrace our singleness), but when we got to the theater it was sold out! I hate being unoriginal.
Since we couldn’t see our movie of choice, we hit up the pub near my apartment at the ripe old hour of 7:30pm instead.
We left the pub around 2am.
Yes, I was hung over the next day.
Surprisingly I met a guy at Saturday night – something I would have bet money against doing on V-Day.
Said guy then called on Sunday (I have no memory of giving him my number), and we’re going out this week. I’ll let you know if it’s true love, otherwise you’ll probably never hear me mention him again.

-In the immortal words of my Wild Words from Wild Women daily calendar:
If you open your heart up and let all the love you have flow out of you, I promise that some highly dysfunctional, emotionally unavailable man will glom himself onto you and never let go.
-Wendy Kamenoff

Awesome.

-For all the ladies out there, a little relationship advice this fine Valentine’s Day. (Obviously not from me – I don’t know the first thing about relationships.) Anyway, here you go.

-My breakfast this morning consisted of black coffee, one of those Starbucks Double Shot espresso drinks, and a Red Bull. Help, I think I may have a problem.

-Creepy Web site I wish I’d never discovered (I need to stop giving into peer pressure): Facebook. Yes, Facebook creeps me out. I was pressured into joining, refuse to ‘friend’ anyone myself, and only go on to accept friend requests every two weeks or so. Still, what is with all the randoms out there that find you?! I kind of want to say to people ‘Um, I think we lost touch for a reason.’ But that would be mean, right?

-Worst Valentine’s Day: The time my boyfriend told me he’d rather hang out with his friends than spend the evening with me. Yup, I can really pick ‘em!

-Nice little bit of erotica to get you through a cold V-Day all alone: Cooking Up a Storm by Emma Holly. No one in this book even has a fleeting grasp of what monogamy means. It’s amazing how something that would piss me off in reality still turns me on in…bookity. (OK, so that word doesn’t exist, but I didn’t want to say ‘fantasy’ or ‘theory’ since those words weren’t quite right – sue me.)

-In honor of Valentine’s Day, I want to know what everyone’s most embarrassing sexual moment was. For me it was the time I was…um…let’s just say ‘pleasuring’ a boyfriend, and he fell asleep. Nothing fucks with your ego quite like that. So thanks Ex-Boyfriend! And no, I STILL don’t buy that it was because you’d had too much to drink, JACKASS!

Anyway, anyone have any good stories that could compete?

Hello Everybody!!!!!!

2008-12-16T15:42:00.003-05:00

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.

(Clears Throat)

2008-12-04T12:37:00.009-05:00

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.

I Hurt Right Now

2008-11-20T09:20:00.004-05:00

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.

I Need Drugs

2008-11-06T11:28:00.001-05:00

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.

Owwwwwwwwww.

No One Does Stupid Like I Do

2008-11-03T09:45:00.000-05:00

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.

Yeah.

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

Ego? What's That?

2008-10-31T09:22:00.001-04:00

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.

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

2008-10-30T09:39:00.001-04:00

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?

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

2008-10-28T10:42:00.000-04:00

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.

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

2008-10-08T15:32:00.002-04:00

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?

Some Friday Thoughts

2008-09-26T10:08:00.004-04:00

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?

Awkward

2008-09-24T09:07:00.001-04:00

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?

Girls Are Weird

2008-09-16T13:56:00.003-04:00

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.

I Have a Death Wish

2008-09-10T09:14:00.001-04:00

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?

This Will Be Short

2008-09-09T09:53:00.002-04:00

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!

I’m Mean on Fridays

2008-09-05T09:20:00.004-04:00

-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!

Sometimes I’m Not So Cool

2008-09-03T15:49:00.002-04:00

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

2008-09-03T08:48:00.004-04:00

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.

My Homage to Food Porn

2008-08-27T14:58:00.014-04:00

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.

Behold…temptation:

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.

This and That

2008-08-25T12:01:00.001-04:00

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?

Yeah.

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.)

My Vet Is a Jackass

2008-08-12T13:29:00.006-04:00

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).

I’ve Lost My Mind

2008-08-06T09:57:00.001-04:00

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.

What I Learned on Saturday

2008-07-29T09:56:00.005-04:00

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?

A First Kiss

2008-07-25T09:53:00.003-04:00

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.

The One Where I Avoid a Black Eye

2008-07-21T16:50:00.007-04:00

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?

My Friend, The Oddball

2008-07-15T12:10:00.009-04:00

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.

Jack Cobra, Ask And Ye Shall Receive

2008-07-10T17:07:00.006-04:00

As it has been well documented around here (unfortunately), I have a bit of a…crush on Alex Rodriguez; I always have. Shut up. So – considering that I want in his pants – it should come as no surprise to anyone that it turns out he is a complete dog is real life (Madonna? What the fuck?). That’s right, I’m taking partial responsibility here; from the second I saw him (when he was drafted by Seattle), I was attracted to him. In other words: He was doomed from the start.

But (being me), that won’t stop me from having thoughts and opinions on the whole shitstorm that is A-Rod’s personal life right now. So let’s break things down, shall we?

1) First and foremost, I hope his wife metaphorically rips his balls off in this divorce (because she clearly didn’t – literally – rip them off when she should have).

Call it the bitch in me, but I say once you’re married cheating is a castrating offense. Too much? Yeah, well I don’t care. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – cheating is for the weak, it’s an incredibly hurtful thing to do, and it is 100% unforgivable (in my eyes at least); there are no good excuses people, so don’t even bother trying to come up with them.

Here are the rules (just so we’re clear): If you’re dating someone and find you want to be with someone else, go ahead (but end your relationship first) – hell, we’re all allowed to change our minds when we’re single (that’s why we’re single, we’re still in the ‘being selfish’ stage of our lives). But once you’ve done something crazy like, say, gone in front of all your family and friends to swear fidelity to someone for the rest of you life – well, I’m just going to say you’re shit out of luck if you find (at a later date) that you want to be with someone else. Sorry, keep it in your pants. (Can you tell I tend to see certain issues in terms of black and white? When it comes to this one topic, for me, gray areas don’t exist.)

So having laid out my philosophy on cheating here, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I want Mrs. A-Rod to make her husband hurt right now. A lot. And since hitting him in his wallet is probably as good a way as any to get A-Rod’s attention, well, all I will say is good luck Mrs. A-Rod. Godspeed.

2) A-Rod has the worst taste in women (strippers, strippers, muscular she-men, old chicks, and strippers).

Madonna? Seriously? I have so many thoughts on this. 1) She’s not pretty, she never was. What Madonna did have was sex appeal…about 20 years ago. That chick is 50 now, and newsflash – she looks it. However, she is creepily muscular and we all know A-Rod is into that (shudder), so…um, Mazel Tov. 2) Am I the only one who thinks she’s weird as hell? Anyone? Anyone? 3) Hey, did I mention she’s 50? Cool, I just wanted to make sure. 4) Oh yeah, and she’s married.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to the strippers. Umm…yeah – I’ve never gotten the whole ‘I want to sleep with a stripper’ thing. Sure, I get why guys like looking at strippers (hello, naked), but sleeping with one? I don’t know – guys out there, you want to explain this one to me? Let me just say this about the whole topic: From my point of view, his penchant for strippers wouldn’t keep me from enjoying him for a night; it would however keep me from ever wanting more than one night (sorry big guy).

On a side note, the funniest thing I’ve read about A-Rod and his shenanigans recently came from the Boston Herald – let’s have them take it from here:

Houlihan said A-Rod had a couple of shots of tequila and a few Sex on the Beach cocktails, then they went back to A-Rod’s room at the Ritz-Carlton and had sex.

Wow, I don’t care how turned on I am – a man ordering (and then actually drinking) a Sex on the Beach (without irony I’m assuming) would completely kill the mood. And my respect for him. And my need for his dick.

3) But even though I hope Mrs. A-Rod takes her hubby to the cleaners, I do want her to remember that they have kids, and he is their father. So back off in the badmouthing and let him see the kids.

Mrs. A-Rod needs to let A-Rod see his kids (update: it seems like she may be allowing that this weekend…so there you go), and she needs to make her lawyers back off with the public badmouthing. Let me say this much – unless a person is physically or verbally abusive, they should be free to see their kids. Period. And as for the badmouthing…let me tell you a little story. When I was in high school, I used to babysit for a woman down the street. She was going through a divorce and I honestly don’t remember all the details, but I do remember that it was contentious. And she brought it home with her. All the time. She would bitch to me about her ex (in front of her kids). She would get on the phone and bitch to her friends about him (in front of her kids). Hell, she even bitched TO her kids about him! He. Was. Their. Father. This still drives me nuts, all these years later. And you know what – her behavior wasn’t unusual; you see this a lot with divorcing couples.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is you have to be able to separate things in your mind. You may be hurt, pissed, and vindictive towards your ex, but if you have kids, keep it away from them. Just because someone was a shitty spouse, doesn’t mean they were a shitty parent. One of the hardest but most basic truths to being a parent (from what I understand – I've seen some darn good examples in my time) is that it’s a selfless job. Your kids come before yourself, and you need to think of them first.

So Mrs. A-Rod – let Alex see the kids, and tell your legal team to tone it down a bit. I get that you want to destroy him in the court of public opinion, but think of your damn children – they will hear these stories and comments one day. Maybe not now, but trust me they will in the future. And claiming that you’re taking the high road, when your lawyers are doing nothing but talking shit, doesn’t work for me. You chose your representation (and from what I’ve heard you chose people who like to play dirty), so you’re responsible for them. My advice: Tell them to tone it down and keep it in the courtroom.

4) I have the worst taste in men (yes, again it’s all about me).

Yeah, even with the cheating shit, and the horrible taste in women madness (A-Rod, you really, truly, and honestly have the looks and money to do better), I’d still do Alex Rodriguez. It’s like I’ve said in the past – I can’t help myself. I have terrible taste in men, and there’s something about that man in particular that makes me want to see him naked. And touch him. Naked.

This is my problem with men; it’s not that I think all men are assholes – I generally get along better with men than I do with women actually – but I think (and am usually right) that every man I find attractive/sexy/insanely doable is…well, they’re assholes most of the time. It’s like I have a weird radar thingamabob about this. So as I said earlier, A-Rod had practically no chance at being a nice guy – I’ve wanted him for too long.

In related news, I’m still single.

5) A-Rod, call me.

Yeah, yeah – I’m only human! Sure he cheated on his wife (bad boy), and sure he has creepy taste in women, and sure he sounds like he’s kind of an asshole, but he’s SO pretty! And since I have these annoying things called morals, I haven’t actually been able to consider A-Rod realistically for a long time (he was married – I don’t poach). But now that he’s on his way to being single…what?! Are you surprised? I don’t want to marry or even date the guy, but I would definitely…well, you know.

So with that, the moral of this piece is A-Rod is a dick, his wife is pissed (and has every right to be), I hope he gets hosed in court (although I’m sure he’ll do just fine no matter what), he should still be able to see his kids, I have bad taste in men, and because of that I’d still sleep with him even after saying all of the above.

Of course he wouldn’t sleep with me – I’m not beefy or (shockingly) slutty enough. So there you go Jack. My thoughts on A-Rod – ugly but, as always, true.

Brain, Meet Mouth

2008-07-08T13:50:00.006-04:00

I am a complete spaz – this is an important note to make before I jump into a quick recap of my 4th of July weekend (nothing really interesting happened – welcome to my life). Not because I acted like more of a spaz than usual over the weekend (I actually didn’t), but because I acted like a complete freak yesterday and need to share that BEFORE going into my uninteresting weekend…do you people ever wonder why you bother coming here to read this shit?

OK, so I’m leaving work yesterday and paying no attention to the world around me when I step onto the elevator and find myself alone, in an enclosed space, with the boss of my boss’s boss (still following me?). Now under normal circumstances this isn’t a bad thing (I handle people pretty well generally), but yesterday…not so much. So there I was, standing in an elevator with a woman who fully has the power to fire me, and I could think of NOTHING to say. So I smiled politely and pretended to rifle through my purse. Boss Woman, being a fully functioning adult, decided to pick up the conversational slack and said ‘There are never enough hours in the day.’

Good, good – I could work with that. ‘No, there never are’ I said back, a nice innocuous answer to a nice innocuous question. Perfect, now stop talking. Ah fuck, what are the odds that I was going to do that. Nope, I followed up ‘No, there never are’ with a pause – like I was thinking (although obviously I was doing nothing of the sort) – and then: ‘Well, except on the weekends!’

Silence.

WHAT?! What does that even mean?! What the hell? WHY would I have said that? Oh shit…maybe I should just acknowledge that what I said made NO sense. I mean, people do stupid shit like this all the time, right? Of course they do…because I fucking MOCK and HATE them for it. Goddamnit! OK, don’t say anything – that way I won’t make it worse. Only…if I keep my mouth shut, then she might think I don’t KNOW that what I just said was stupid; which would be so fucking stupid!

And while all this was going on in my head, outwardly in that elevator there was…nothing. She said nothing. I said nothing – I didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I just went back to rifling through my purse like I hadn’t just made one of the most random and illogical comments ever. In the history of the whole world. And then…

Ding.

The elevator doors opened, and I realized I had run out of time - time to say something, anything, that would make her rethink the (rather glaring) evidence that I was apparently lacking a brain (not that I truly believe I was capable of convincing her at that point that this was true – my brain was clearly on vacation). So, we parted ways. Walking out onto the street, she turned left to walk uptown, I turned right to get to the subway, and…that was it.

It (surprisingly) took me a whole half block before I started laughing. I am SUCH a freak! What the fuck had I been talking about? And how did I not acknowledge that what I had said made no sense? Did she actually think that I THOUGHT that comment had made sense? And what had happened to my puny little brain in there? Oh good God.

So there I was, walking to the subway, talking to no one, and…well, I was laughing. Yes, I was the chick walking down the street, laughing for no discernable reason (although in all fairness, I also laugh at myself – and others – when I/they trip, fall, etc.; I’m the kind of person who laughs at embarrassing things). And, I’m still kind of laughing when I write this now.

Immediately upon getting to my apartment, I a) called my sister, b) called my mother, c) called Christine, d) called John, and e) told my cat (shut up), ALL about what I had done. I relayed the story to everyone, and it cracked everyone up (well, not my cat – she seemed pretty uninterested actually). And when I was in a meeting with my boss this morning, I told her too. She started laughing and didn’t stop until there were tears in her eyes.

So…cheers. It takes a special kind of stupid to make that bad an impression on a person (and then tell EVERYONE all about it so they can be laughed at), and it turns out – I’m that kind of stupid. Go me.

OK, I’m tired now and don’t feel like going into my weekend (maybe tomorrow). One highlight to tide you all over: Christine and I were out on Saturday night – just relaxing at a neighborhood bar having a drink – when this guy came up and started chatting with me. So we’re just sitting there having a marginally interesting conversation, and this dude’s friend (obviously VERY drunk), came up to us and yelled (mind you, this was more a lounge type bar and not really a yelling type bar) ‘What’s up bitch! You’re looking hawt!’ Yeah, THIS is my life. Needless to say I ended the conversation shortly thereafter (I wish I could have heard the exchange between those two guys after I left though – the guy I had been speaking to looked pissed), and since I’m in a place right now where I’m doing the single girl, ‘I refuse to settle’ thing…that’s it. That’s the whole story. My life has become a series of ‘I was talking to this guy and then [blank] happened and we stopped talking and that’s it’ stories. Cool, huh?

More tomorrow. Maybe the day after.

Guys Will Not Understand This Post

2008-07-02T14:40:00.005-04:00

I bet people point and laugh at me.

Okay, let me start this out by saying – as I said in the title of this post – that some people (ahem, men) aren’t going to understand what the fuck I’m complaining about here. That’s fine – those people can bite me. I’m having a girl moment and need to vent (and fuck it, that’s what this blog is for), so bear with me or bail out now people.

I don’t know where to begin…let’s start with my body in general – I’m fine with it. I am not the girl to bitch about her thighs (my legs are nice), her stomach (it’s flat), her arms (mine are scrawny as hell but I’ve made peace with them), or her butt (I’d like mine to be a little bigger, but that’s life). I do not complain about my body – I know how annoying that is since I’ve had to listen to every girl I know do it pretty much forever.

But as I just said, generally speaking I’m not like other girls in that way. I know that my body is nothing to complain about. Only…there’s really only one part of my body that I DO have issues with. And for my longtime readers, you’ve actually heard me mention it before (and no matter what you think I was NEVER bragging about it). I have…huge boobs. There, I said it. I just do. And you know what? Right now, after this past weekend, I’m not okay with it. I need a moment to feel like a fucking circus freak….

………….

You know what, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine. I just need to keep everything in perspective – I have my health. I think. (I haven’t been to the doctor recently, but everything seems to be working.) I’m not dating a complete douchebag for the first time in a while. (I’m not really dating anyone though, so that’s…something.) My job is going fine (or at least I haven’t gotten in a fight with anyone today, yet). And um…yeah.

………….

The thing is, it doesn’t make any fucking sense! I mean, when I graduated from a B-cup to a C-cup in the 8th grade, I got over it – the sheer joy on the face of every boy I met helped. And when I finally gave in and got that first D-cup in my early 20’s (the Cs just weren’t doing their job anymore), I’ll concede that I really only sulked for a few days before admitting to myself that the new bras DID fit better. But right now I’m just…fucking baffled. What the fuck is going on with me? Shouldn’t I be DONE growing at this point in my life?

Okay, the story: So I went home to visit my parents this past weekend because I had no other plans on Saturday (shut up), and I’d allowed my mother to guilt me onto a train. Upon arriving in NJ my mother’s first words to me were: You’re pants are too big – have you lost weight?

Actually, I think I have. I don’t own a scale so I’m not entirely sure, but all of my clothes have been looking and feeling a little loose lately (it sucks when you’re not being taken out to dinner every night anymore). So with that, we did what so many people in NJ do – we went to the mall (ostensibly to buy me some new clothes).

Now, I HATE shopping – I have about a ½ hour time limit on my goodwill before I get cranky and refuse to try on one more thing – so this was not my idea of a fun way to pass the afternoon. But my mother promised me a manicure/pedicure if I went along and ‘let’ her buy me some new things, so of course I gave in (I’m a pain in the ass, but I’m not stupid).

Turns out, I had somehow managed to drop down a size – something I’m not all that psyched about (I like being thin, but right now I’m kind of verging on skinny…well, some parts of me are anyway). However, the new sundress I got did help perk up my spirits for a bit. Then it came time to remind me what shopping is really all about – it is a way to destroy my will.

Enter: The Fancy Bra Store.

It seems that there’s a new bra store in the mall near my parents’ house, and it’s one of those fancy places that doesn’t have a bra under $90 anywhere in the vicinity. They also insist on measuring you right when you walk in the door and then picking out your underwear for you (because why should you be trusted to do that for yourself?). You know – a spirit killing/leave your dignity at the door kind of place.

Anyway, I’ll admit that I kind of thought the Fancy Bra Store was a good idea at first – I needed some new bras, and I am (ahem) a kind of unusual size up top, and that can be hard to shop for. Plus, as I’ve mentioned here before, places like Victoria’s Secret are of no use to me since they’re run by a bunch of morons who think that even D-cups need to be padded! But I digress.

So we went into the Fancy Bra Shop and a saleswoman came up to me, asked me what I was looking for, and then took me into the back so she could measure me. After that joyous experience she went off to pick out some bras – I sat down and waited for her. Upon her return she handed me a stack of things and told me to put the first one on, and then wait for her because she had to ‘check the fit.’

Oh happy day.

On went the first one – a 32-D because that’s what the initial measurement said (and that’s what I wear…or rather…um…). Um…

Saleswoman: (Knock, knock) Are you ready? Can I come in?
Redhead: (Shrugging, looking confused – maybe even a little shell shocked) Sure.
Saleswoman: (Enters, looks at me, comes over and adjusts the straps a bit, frown, POKES a bit, and then…) Hmmm, it’s too small.
Redhead: (Desperately) Only a little.
Saleswoman: (Now definitive) We need to go up a size. Let me go out and find some 32-DDs for you.
Redhead: (Stunned silence)

‘MOM!’

My mother came back to reassure me, the women who were in the other dressing rooms joined in when it became clear that I was having a nervy b, and the saleswoman rushed back with pretty lacy bras that she promised me I could ‘still wear.’ They all tried to tell me that I had a lovely body. They said I looked fine and not at all like a circus freak.

They were really very nice actually.

As you can tell, the pick-me-up didn’t entirely work.

Anyway, I eventually pulled myself together enough to choose three bras (that came to a grand total of $300 by the way), and I even let my parents pay for them (this is all THEIR fault anyway). But after that I just found myself…confused. I mean, ‘How did this happen?’ I asked my mother. ‘How did I go down a dress size and UP a cup size? That doesn’t even make freaking sense! Now the woman in the next dressing room who’s a 40-DD – THAT makes sense. This…’

‘You look fine,’ my mother said. Again.

And maybe I do, I don’t know – I feel like I can’t be objective about the situation right now. I know I don’t look ridiculous, but the thing is that it doesn’t matter how I ACTUALLY look at this point, because I feel…self-conscious. Totally flawed. Probably like every other girl does almost every single day (we’re all deeply, deeply insecure as it turns out). Still, I’m not like that. Normally.

Aaannnnddddd with that, I’m done. (FYI, this post was horribly embarrassing to write, but I do feel a little better after getting all of this off my…um, chest. I think.) Anyway, have a good weekend everyone – even though it’s only Wednesday – are ya’ll doing anything fun for the 4th?

I Am A Freak of Nature – But More on that Tomorrow

2008-07-01T13:59:00.006-04:00

Let’s skip the apologies regarding my recent inactivity on the blogfront and just jump right in, okey dokey kiddies? Good:

-I officially am a 14 year old in an adult’s body – I am now obsessed with a series of books (The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson) and can talk about nothing else. I read the first 8 books in the series over the course of 3 days (the 9th one comes out today – I already have it on order at Barnes & Noble and am picking it up after work), and my 23-year-old assistant can’t stop mocking me. I just think she’s full of jealousity (a Georgiaism) and it she doesn’t relax soon she’s going to have a nervy b.

Okay, I’ll shut up now.

-Speaking of assistants, this guy that I interviewed for my assistant’s position walked by the other day, and my boss turned to me and said ‘It’s a good thing we didn’t hire him’ (he works for another part of the company), ‘You would have eaten him alive.’ That’s a direct quote! And I don’t get it – I’m freaking nice to the people I work with! Why are they all convinced I’m the devil? What is wrong with these people? Can’t they see I’m a fucking saint?!

Yes, I am in a weird mood today.

-The last two weeks have been nuts – I’ve gone to 2 Yanks games, done a 5K (okay, I walked it – shut up, I may be incompetent, but I’m not a quitter!), had 2 birthday dinners that I was required to attend, went home to visit the parents for a weekend (so I’m a momma’s girl – bite me), went on one hideous blind date that I can’t even bring myself to talk about, and lost my cell phone in another state. And during ALL THAT, I only got really truly drunk once. How the fuck did I pull that off?

Unfortunately, the drunk story isn’t even that interesting (but that won't stop me from sharing it!): So I went out with some old co-workers for margaritas, chips, salsa, and guacamole (mmmm, avocados…) last week and, as with any really good Mexican food experience, drank roughly my body weight in tequila and ate essentially the same amount in chips. It was fun! (I also got to really catch up on old office gossip, which I hate to admit is much more fun when you find out the place is falling apart without you there…which it is. Score!) Needless to say, when I woke up the next morning I legitimately believed I was going to die. Turns out I was as hungover as a hungover dumbass can be. Fucking tequila. Anyway, had to go into work that day (who gets that drunk in the middle of the week, you ask? Ummm….me), and it took my assistant all of 1 minute in my presence before she realized something had to be done. One large glass of water with Alka Seltzer in it and a really buttery toasted bagel later, and I was almost human. Tasted like shit (the Alka Seltzer, not the bagel), but I have to admit my assistant was right – it’s not a bad hangover cure.

There was no point to that story – I just wanted to share.

-Went out for Linda’s birthday on Saturday (wait, 2 Saturday’s ago, not this past Saturday), and damn – my life is weird. Long story short I found myself sitting in a restaurant with 20 of Linda’s nearest and dearest friends. Of these 20 people there was:
1) her new fiancé, aka The Dude Who Once Asked Me Out And My Only Response Was to Laugh in His Face,
2) the married friend of hers who insisted on hitting on me even when his wife was standing only a few feet away,
3) the REALLY hot (but only 21 and therefore off-limits – hey, I have no morals but even I won’t go there) friend of her younger brother who was randomly (what the fuck – was something in the air that night or something?) hitting on me too, and
4) several of Linda’s female friends – aka The Bitch Squad. These chicks decided long ago that they hated me (I don’t know why), and have been nothing but insufferable ever since. The only bright side to this is that I can be a bigger bitch than anyone if need be, and as it turned out – I need be. I put up with about 1 minute of their cattiness before snapping. Final assessment: Those ladies are amateurs, but I wish they would just calm the fuck down and leave me alone for once; it’s exhausting to have to smack (metaphorically of course) those chippies down every five minutes when I’m just trying to enjoy myself (and avoid the wandering eyes, hands, etc. of all their boyfriends/husbands).

-Every few months I start to feel the urge to get a tattoo. Now I generally don’t trust my decision-making abilities enough to make many (okay, any) permanent/irreversible steps in my life (duh, I have commitment issues), so the tattoo has never happened. But assuming I ever did go temporarily insane and actually went through with the ink, where would I put it? (I already know what I would get, so that’s a decision I have successfully made – yes, I am such a grown up!)

Now, it couldn’t be anywhere my father would see (he’d lose it), and I refuse to get an infamous ‘tramp stamp’ on my lower back either. So…where would work? Ah fuck, there aren’t any places on the body you people can suggest that I haven’t already thought of – I don’t know why I’m even bringing this up.

God I’m tired today.

-Does anyone else find that when they’re hungry but unwilling (ie. too lazy) to leave the house to feed themselves, looking at a cookbook and/or watching the Food Network tends to be a viable alternative? I mean sure, it’s not the same as actually eating, but for the very, very, very lazy…it works.

-NY in the summertime…smells.

-The MTA must be run by a bunch of incompetents – I HATE the subway (especially in the summertime and especially going up to Yankee Stadium). Hey geniuses, if you know there are going to be roughly 60,000 people heading into the Bronx around 7pm on a Monday night, maybe it would be a good idea to get some 4 trains fucking RUNNING up there.

Oh, and 1 or 2 trains going back into Manhattan after the game wouldn’t be too bad either. You know, if it’s not too much trouble. Fuckers.

-There was a dude on the subway today who was wearing shorts, had no hair on his legs (I guess he shaves, I don’t know), but DID have hair on the back of his knees. And it was skeeving me out! I mean, how does that even happen? Does hair grow on the back of the knees? What is with some people?!

-Ronaldo – the dude whose picture I’ve been posting here recently – has a girlfriend with cellulite. A lot of fucking cellulite. What the fuck? How is this even possible?

-Oh, and on that note – another post will be coming tomorrow detailing the absolutely hideous and truly upsetting shopping trip I took part in this past weekend. Let me say this much now though: As someone who generally has no major body issues to speak of, I now have a BIG one that is pissing me off! I am a freak of nature and it is…upsetting me.

And with that, ta ta for now (or TTFN as Georgia would say)! I swear I’m going to grow up soon. Promise.

I Seem to Be in a Good Mood

2008-06-13T10:50:00.004-04:00

I’m sorry dear readers, it seems I’ve been neglecting you…again (blame Ronaldo’s abs, I can’t seem to focus on much else while the Euro’s are going on). And while I keep meaning to write about an article I read in last Sunday’s New York Times, well, let’s just say I haven’t found the time to do that yet. So to tide us all over until I get my head out of my ass, here is a little more Random Redhead to carry us into the weekend:

-While visiting my sister in DC last weekend, we were in the middle of discussing how much nicer the Metro is than the NYC Subway system when we hit something. I’m not sure what it was (it made a loud noise, rocked the train, and sent sparks up outside the windows), but as for what it was…nope, I still have no idea. But the point I’m trying to make here is that this little incident barely slowed the Metro down. I’m talking true efficiency here people! (Yes, I realize some people would be concerned about this sort of incident, but as a person who takes a lot of public transportation I can say it really is all about just getting to your destination – accidents, fires, whatever along the way are just distractions.) Ooh, speaking of fires I think there was one!

Yeah, so after the thump, sparks, and ‘what the fuck was that?’ we pulled into the next station. Realizing that whatever had just happened had knocked out the A/C in our car (and it was fucking HOT out that day), we stepped out onto the platform - not to let this train go and get on another one (although some people did – pussies) - no we got out to move to another car WITH A/C. And that’s when we realized that the entire back of the train was sort of enveloped in smoke. Hmmmm. Not ones to panic, Sister and I just headed towards the front of the train (an air-conditioned car of course) to sit down and wait out the delay. And let me just say it didn’t even take them a long time to get moving again! We were pulling out within 15 minutes or so.

So with that ringing endorsement, I tell you people this – the DC Metro is the way to go.

-Oh, funniest moment of the weekend – so we’re coming out of the Metro late Friday night, and there is a dude who is obviously drunk walking in front of us singing. Pretty normal, right? Well, sort of – the problem here was that he was singing ‘You Oughta Know’ by Alanis Morissette. Kind of an odd choice, right? I mean, isn’t that pretty much the LAST song a guy would choose to sing, like, ever? And to think that this guy, obviously drunk, surrounded by a group of buddies, got the idea in his head (and deduced that it was a good idea - you know, since he went ahead with it) to pull out the most pissed off, scorned woman song of the last 20 years to sing, and actually belted that motherfucker out… Yeah, it was AWESOME. I love shit like that.

Not surprisingly, I found this endlessly amusing at the time (and still do actually) – I may not have been 100% sober myself then – and almost collapsed on the floor of the station laughing. I mean, I found myself really, really, REALLY wanting to hear him sing the ‘down on you in a theater’ line, but Drunk Guy noticed my amusement before he got to that point (damnit). Instead he decided to change things up entirely so he could serenade me with…’Your Body Is A Wonderland.’ Since Drunk Guy kind of looked like a frat guy (or Frat Guy around here), this song made much more sense coming out of his mouth. But I have to say, Drunk Guy, I liked you so much more when you were singing random angry chick rock.

Still, 2 thumbs up to Drunk Guy and his excellent yet unexpected song choice. I have to say, sometimes life can be so entertaining.

-I start to wonder about myself sometimes. An example: So my grandmother is up visiting my parents (no, that doesn’t stress my mom out at all), and somehow I got roped into dinner and a show on Tuesday night (when NYC was doing a fine imitation of what I imagine Hell feels like – seriously, it’s been REALLY hot here). So after meeting my mom and grandmother at Virgil’s for dinner (yay BBQ even though I’m a freaking vegetarian!), and drinking something called Fall Off the Porch Iced Tea (yum), I found myself sitting through Phantom of the Opera – a show I haven’t seen since high school. Now all of that was fine and was really just a lead-in to what an asshole I am.

So during intermission I’m talking to my mother (sidenote: call me a dork, I don’t care, but I LOVE the music from Phantom), and I guess I came out with this gem about the lead female character in the show ‘She’s a whore.’ I just threw it out there because…well, she’s a little whore who treated the Phantom like shit and I hate that selfish bitch – after all he did for her she freaks out because he’s not HANDSOME enough?! But, yet again, I digress. Anyway, so I tossed my opinion out there and then belatedly remembered that my 87-year-old grandmother was sitting on my other side. And, you know, even I know you’re not supposed to call someone a whore in front of your grandmother. So after taking a moment to compose myself a bit, I turned to offer up an apology to the woman who had raised my very conservative and straightlaced father. Only before I could speak she hit me with, ‘Don’t bother apologizing Redhead, I know what you’re like; you can’t shock me anymore.’

And all I could think was, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Was it an affectionate ‘I know what you’re like’ or a resigned ‘I know what you’re like’? Hmmm, it’s probably best not to overthink this.

-Men, if you’re wearing a suit you cannot – let me repeat that – you CANNOT carry a backpack. Just forget it; if you’re going to dress like an adult then you have to go all the way with it. Briefcase or man-purse, those are your options. OK?

-I send a 20 lb. box of books to my nephews every two months or so, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m overdoing it. I mean I get a lot of books because of my job (and I need to clean out my shelves every…well, two months or so to make room), and I know that supposedly you can never have too many books, but I really am starting to wonder if that’s true.

There was really no point to that last paragraph, it was just rolling around in my head so I decided to share.

-Now I’m getting tired and I need to prepare for a meeting. In the meantime – just because I can’t help myself – here’s another hot as hell picture of Cristiano Ronaldo. (I swear I’m going to get over this crush soon; he’s not even my type! It’s his neck I think. I REALLY want to suck on his neck…um, but not in a weird way.) Enjoy. Or not…whatever.

For All the Ladies (And Some Men) Reading

2008-06-09T10:53:00.005-04:00

A quick confession: I love soccer. I can't help myself, soccer (or as they call it everywhere else in the world, football) is an amazing sport. A family favorite, I have sat through - and played in - MANY games throughout my life; the sheer athleticism required to play well never ceases to stagger and impress me. And when you add to that the sheer deliciousness of the men who choose to play the sport (seriously, I have no idea what it is about soccer that draws the hotties, but I long ago embraced the fact that it does)...in fact, my longest and most serious sports crush belongs to a soccer player - Paolo Maldini. I fucking tried to learn Italian because of him! (I met him in real life while in high school, and I full-on panted at first sight...and I wasn't the only female with that reaction.)

Anyway, that was really a long lead-in to saying the Euro Championships are going on right now, and look - hot guys EVERYWHERE! And in honor of the hottest of the hot (seriously, no other word but 'perfect' - physically at least - can be used to describe this man), I give you Cristiano Ronaldo. Yes, he's a pretty boy metrosexual and in so many ways NOT my type, but still...I'm only human people. I'm not BLIND! I mean, good fucking GOD would you look at him without his shirt on?! I just...I just...nope, I can't even form sentences right now. So...um...really good soccer's going on right now. You should watch. Whether for the men or the actual sport (I don't judge); because lord knows I'm going to be mesmerized by both.

I'm an Odd Bird

2008-06-05T09:45:00.002-04:00

Things I saw this morning that cracked me up:

-I was walking to the subway and there was this woman a few steps in front of me who was wearing a raincoat. OK, ‘raincoat’ is too simple a description for what she was wearing, and I NEED to give this coat its due. It was…it was just so…SHINY. I mean, it was blindingly, shockingly…um (fuck, I can’t think of another word to use), shiny! I kept looking at it (in all honesty I wasn’t sure I had the power to look away), and it was like this piece of fabric was calling for me to release my inner kitten. I had to consciously restrain myself from trying to bat at her coat in order to watch the light bounce off it as it moved. It was hypnotic really. And just Fucking Awesome!

-Men in tight jeans. It was like a memo went out yesterday to all men in the NY metro area, and they ALL fucking took it seriously! So they dug deep, sifted through their crappy old 80’s gear, and freaking pulled out the tightest, most designerest (note: not a word) jeans they could find. And it was GREAT! I mean, I’m kind of used to emo-looking guys giving the ole tight jeans thing a try, but this morning I actually saw a burly trucker type guy wearing skintight women’s (I think) jeans! And let just tell you, it TOTALLY made my day. That is all.

Things I saw this morning that kind of creeped me out:

-There’s nothing more uncomfortable on the subway than looking up from your seat to find that the man standing in front of you has forgotten to button/zip his fly. You find yourself kind of trying to not look (even though it’s right in your face and how can you NOT look), while scenes from the one episode of Law and Order SVU you ever saw flash through your mind. And then you wonder if you should say something – you know, give them the heads up. But then you think maybe they know, and they’re exhibitionists, and then lord knows what kind of awkward conversation you could get sucked into. So you don’t say anything, but you can’t really concentrate on anything else, and it SO EARLY in the morning that it totally weirds you out, and all you can think is ‘please, please, please don’t let anything pop out.’ But I digress.

Anyway, this morning a guy with a large overhanging belly (and tight jeans of course) was standing in front of me with his fly wide open. I didn’t look…or at least I tried not to (I had to keep peeking to make sure nothing, you know, appeared). Nothing did (thank goodness). But I did have to endure this for all of 5 stops on the train (it sat in front of my face from 51st Street to 23rd). Can you say awkward?

-I was in the elevator coming up to my office when I noticed that the finance guy, a dorky 60-year-old dude I had been chatting with as we rode up to our floor, had a nipple issue going on. What kind of issue you ask? Well, I’d call it a cold (or possibly – please God no – excited) issue; we’re talking seriously hard/distended nipples that were (blurgh) freaking poking their way through his shirt. It was really, really, really yucky. That’s all I’ll say about it. Oh, and yet again I said nothing (even I don’t know how to broach certain topics).

I feel like I’ve been eye-raped this morning.

Random other things that I’m thinking/feeling at this moment:

-I am in a weirdly silly mood today – it may have to do with lack of sleep. Oh, speaking of which: The game last night was a lot of fun. John was surprisingly cool (no awkward conversations or anything like that – well, expect for when he mentioned that we should have a baby together…it’s kind of a long story). I was a little annoyed when the couple that sits next to me – we’ve had the same ticket plans for years and they’ve met John many times since I take him to a lot of games – freaking gave him a HUG when they saw him! They had missed him this year, they said! Um, when I saw them at our first game this season (and they hadn’t seen me all winter) I didn’t get a freaking hug! Now granted, I’m not really a ‘hugger’ and would have been all kinds of freaked out if they had hugged me, but still! I hate being liked second best.

-I’m pretty sure my assistant just called me old. She came over to my desk, handed me a book she’d told me about (which, granted, is aimed at teenagers), and said ‘I think you’ll really love this. My teacher in high school gave it to me to read, and she was even older than you are!’ I almost fell over laughing. So did the woman in the office next to mine who heard. Damn, I’m feeling good about myself now!

-I’ve had an impressive amount of caffeine/artificial energy drinks this morning. I give myself 2 more hours before I’m going to need to leave my desk and take the stairs a few times. But that’s normal. Right?

Now I have to go get some work done – feel free to shout back and make fun of me. I’ll be checking your comments until midday tomorrow when I’m flying down to DC for the weekend to visit my sister! Woo hoo! I’ll try not to get in too much trouble (although it’s kind of like a pig trying not to get dirty sometimes), but if I do I’m sure you’ll hear all about it. Later party people.

They Call Me Spaz Girl

2008-06-03T11:31:00.008-04:00

-So I ended things with Fancy Pants – yes, I know it was inevitable. Still, he was considerably more pissed about it than I had anticipated; I believe his parting words to me were ‘Have a nice fucking life!’ My thoughts on this: I forgot the golden rule that when you’re breaking up with someone, never EVER do it in your own home. Because if you’re stuck at home with this person and they become, oh I don’t know, verbally abusive let’s say, you can’t leave. You seriously have to just sit there and take it for as long as they want to dish it out. And that’s not as much fun as it sounds.

But if you dump someone pretty much anywhere that’s not your own turf, you can just LEAVE when they start doing shit like calling you a bitch, listing all your flaws one by one, or even possibly throwing out the ‘you’re going to die alone’ line (who fucking DOES that?!). Yeah, these are memories I’m building here people. Memories.

-Just to top off my weekend, I was telling my mother about the breakup from hell – she had never met Fancy Pants (why would she?), but like everyone else she disliked him on first description – and somehow I found myself in a deep discussion with her about my love life and why I date the kind of men I date. Well, discussion/lecture, tomato/tomahto. Either way I found myself the recipient – for the second time that weekend – of a verbal smackdown (this time it was well-intentioned at least). The sentence ‘When are you going to settle down and give me grandchildren?’ might have been uttered.

Yeah….yeah.

-I cleaned the shit out of my apartment this weekend (it seemed best to just lock myself inside away from the world with the way things were going). I mean, I lifted the mattress and box spring up and cleaned under the bed! I scrubbed the bathtub! I went through all my papers and actually threw stuff out for once! I also – in a big change for me – switched up the bedding from my normal dark red comforter/dust ruffle thingy (it seemed too dark for the summer), to a pretty light blue and white flowered comforter/dust ruffle thingy. It’s…well, it’s freaking me out a little bit with how girly it is, but still…I think (maybe) I like it. It’s kind of pretty. Plus, it’s good to change things up every once in a while. Right?

Either way, the apartment looks awesome right now. I’m thinking of getting myself a new couch too.

-I passed a guy on the street yesterday who was holding a sign that read ‘Please give money for beer.’ No shit, he was blatantly asking for alcohol money. And I have to say, considering it was gorgeous out and I was stuck in an office all day (I was just running out for lunch at the time), I didn’t begrudge this guy an ice-cold beer. Hell, I was fucking envious. So I gave him a buck. I didn’t give anything to the homeless guy on the corner of course, but I gave money to the 20-something guy standing a block away asking for beer money (and not looking homeless). I’m seriously going to hell any day now.

-It’s the little things in life that annoy me. Like the chick who got on the train this morning for example – sunglasses on underground (an all-time pet peeve of mine), too-tight clothes on her too-plump body, hair styled to within an inch of its life, reallllly long fake nails, etc. But none of that set me off. What set me off was that she was holding a bagel by the tips of her fake nails and was licking the cream cheese off like she was auditioning for a porno or something. And you could just TELL she thought she looked hot.

It. Drove. Me. Nuts.

So I did what I always do in these situations – I waited until she glanced over at me, gave her a blatant once over, got sort of an ‘ewww’ expression on my face, and then looked her in the eye and laughed at her. She turned bright red and got off at the next stop. Sometimes it’s nice to take a person down a peg or two…just because I can.

I deserve all the bad things that happen to me. Don’t I?

-My assistant just came over with a book sample and pricing for me to review, and in the book was a picture of three cute little piglets (awwww). Only Ass (my new nickname for my assistant) then took the opportunity to tell me the story of how she once dissected a pig in Biology class. Now let me ask you guys a question – do you know anyone in the world who would want to hear that story LESS than I would? I’m a fucking vegetarian because I like animals more than people for fuck’s sake!

-Speaking of vegetarianism, it’s been over a year guys – who out there actually thought I’d make it this long? I have to say that one of the coolest things about having done this is simply knowing that I CAN. I mean think about it, I was an animal lover who ate meat because…well, because I liked it. But I decided I was going to stop cold-turkey, and I FUCKING DID! No one was holding me to it (hell, no one wanted me to do it), the cravings were shockingly strong at times (I capital letters MISS cheeseburgers), and yet I NEVER broke down. Not once. And I did it through sheer willpower. Knowing I’m capable of that, that I'm that fucking tough mentally, is…pretty goddamn cool actually.

-I’m going to the game tomorrow night with John. Yes, that’s right – I think he MAY have forgiven me for my multitude of sins against him. Well, either that or he’s taking advantage of my awesome seats right near first base in Yankee Stadium. Hmmmm, I guess there’s also the chance (considering the week I’ve been having) that he’s both using me for my seats (understandable) AND going to take this opportunity to tell me off (which I admittedly deserve). At the game…where I’m guaranteed not to leave. Hence stuck being told off with nowhere to go. Again.

Fuck.

I Have No Idea Why I’m Telling This Story

2008-05-30T12:41:00.008-04:00

Seriously, I have no idea why I’m going to tell you this. Call it a peace offering since I haven’t been writing much lately; still…ah fuck it, I must be bored. Anyway, here’s a really long and not necessarily funny Drunk Redhead story:

So a few years ago one of my best friends, Kim, got married. She’d started dating the guy (her fiancé) in college, they BOTH moved in with her parents after graduation (shudder), and shortly after moving into their own apartment in NYC, they got engaged. I was happy for them; mainly because Kim was happy. But having said that, the pairing was (and is) a little…odd.

An explanation: Kim is, for lack of a better word, fucking gorgeous (if I had dollar for every time someone told her she looks like a young Brooke Shields…), she’s also nice (weird nice – like why is she friends with me nice), and really, really smart. Kim’s fiancé (now husband) on the other hand is…fat. Yes, I know there’s more to a person than that, but let me explain. I’m talking borderline morbidly obese here. He was big when they met in college, bigger when they got married, and HUGE now. A former football player, he stopped exercising when he stopped playing, but man did he not change his eating habits. From here on out let’s call him F-man.

Now having said all that, F-man is a perfectly nice guy – not too interesting but not too annoying. He’s smart (a little lazy, but smart), he comes from a good family, and we all have a very similar upbringing in common, ie. privileged east coast lifestyle. Like I said, boring.

Anyway, onto the story. Background: Northern New Jersey. Time: The night before the wedding. Setting: The rehearsal dinner. Being a bridesmaid I was obviously present. Since my family is also very close with the bride’s family, they were all present and accounted for as well. Number of people at the dinner in total: Maybe 30. Number of bridesmaids and groomsmen: 4 of each.

OK, so there I was chatting with my family when I caught site of one of F-man’s groomsmen. Me and every other woman in the room. This dude was very nice to look at – tall, dark, blah, blah, blah – and the women were looking. After one or two questions I found out that he was an old Exeter buddy of the F-man, and that he was now living in California. Feeling a little bit of good old-fashioned lust roll through me, I continued to look but decided not to interact. I mean fuck, my entire family was there; I wasn’t THAT hard up. Or…um…wait, we’ll get there.

So let’s skip to the next afternoon, aka The Day of the Wedding. After getting my hair done (shut up, all the bridesmaids were expected to do it), I slipped on my bridesmaid’s dress and turned towards the mirror.

Oh holy fuck.

Somehow during my one and only fitting with the dressmaker I hadn’t taken the time (nor had Kim) to actually LOOK at myself in my dress. Now, with my hair up in kind of a messy bun thing, one fact became VERY apparent. That garish pink dress (hello, RED hair) was seriously low cut. Like, ‘what the fuck was Kim thinking when she chose these for her church wedding?’ low cut. Oh right, she was thinking that all her other bridesmaids were flat chested.

Long story short, the strapless bra I’d been planning to wear wasn’t going to work out, so I was going with…well, nothing. And my being unrestricted in that dress was not a good idea; unfortunately, it was the only option at that point. My mother summed it up perfectly when she looked at me and said, “You look like a porn star.” My father was standing right next to her when she said it; he did not disagree.

Kim’s first look at me confirmed my suspicions – I was going to look like a whore all day. And it was all her fault…bygones.

On the plus side all the other bridesmaids thought I looked hilarious, and in an effort to loosen me up for the humiliation to come we proceeded to start drinking. The actual ceremony itself was a blur, but the pictures and drinking after were surprisingly fun. By the time the party began I was already pretty well drunk, and I was also pretty certain I had caught Hunky Groomsman’s attention (along with every other man’s – I had 60 year olds ogling me). Getting waylaid while at the bar by Hunky (who was looking very fine in his tux), I proceeded to flirt my ass off. Fuck it, I looked like a whore – might as well act like one. I teased, I went in for the fleeting touch, I laughed at his stupid comments, and I generally just gave him my full attention.

At some point my sister-in-law pulled me aside to a) congratulate me on snagging Hunky’s attention, b) warn me not to get too drunk (too late), and c) tell that if I needed her to cover for me (hello, my ENTIRE family was there) she would. I thanked her, told her I was just flirting, and chatted for a few more minutes. Finally I went off to dance with another guy that I think I went to high school with.

Oh, good side note: There were people at this wedding that I hadn’t seen since high school. People that I hadn’t kept in touch with for a reason. And the first glimpse they had of me after all those years, I just happened to look like a hooker in an ugly bridesmaid’s dress. Good times.

After my dance I was again tugged aside by Hunky. As I stood there, listening to him tell me a story of how he once talked himself out of a drunk driving ticket, I couldn’t help but think ‘This guy is kind of a jackass. How could he think that telling me he had not only driven drunk, but that he was PROUD to have gotten away with it, is going to help his case? Am I supposed to be impressed here? I could NEVER date this guy…but I would sleep with him.’

Yes people, I was in that perfect place where I was still lucid enough to know what the sober me would think, but just drunk enough to make a bad decision anyway.

Somehow we ended up walking outside the hotel for some ‘fresh air,’ I found his tongue in my mouth, I found my hand in his hair, and eventually I even found him pressing my other hand to the front of his pants while saying, and I quote, “Want to help me out with this?”

Ugh, that was the best he could do? Shit.

Unfortunately at that point the dam had broken – after dragging Hunky back inside he proceeded to try to kiss/touch me every chance he got. He even grabbed and kissed me (rather unexpectedly I might add) right in front of the mother of the bride, a woman who comes to my family’s house for Thanksgiving for Christ’s sake!

Still, I was drunk and he was hot. When my sister-in-law came and told me my family was leaving, I turned (I will admit reluctantly) to bid Hunky goodbye, and at that moment Kim walked up and said, “Hey, F-man and I are continuing the party back in our room after this ends. Why don’t you stay? I’m sure we can find someone who will let you crash with them after.”

Hunky’s face lit up (guess who also had a room at the hotel and was more than willing to let me ‘crash’ with him?). At that my sister-in-law started laughing, and I saw the writing on the wall – if fate was going to make it that easy for me, who was I to fight it?

So off my sister-in-law went to tell the parental units that I was remaining at the hotel for the night, and after some brief goodbyes (all my mother said was “Call me when you want me to come pick you up” – 1) there isn’t a chance in hell my mother didn’t know what I was doing, and 2) I felt like SUCH a dirty teenager in that moment I can’t even tell you), I was left alone with Kim and Hunky. I instantly sent Hunky away and turned to Kim.

Redhead: What’s his deal?
Kim: What do you mean?
Redhead: I mean what do you know about him?
Kim: F-man loves him, he’s known him forever and apparently he likes him enough to have made him a groomsman. I don’t know him personally though since he lives in San Diego.
Redhead: Will F-man be freaked out if anything happens between Hunky and me?
Kim: I doubt it.
Redhead: Good enough.

Yes, I am one classy chick. About an hour later – after leaving the ballroom and hitting the hotel bar – Hunky and I found ourselves in the bridal suite drinking beers with Kim, F-man, and about 20 other people.

Note: I still don’t know how I feel about the whole Kim and F-man continuing to party with us – hell, hosting us in their room – after the reception thing. Part of me is a sappy romantic who thinks there are better ways to be spending your wedding night. The other part of me recognizes that you have all your friends together – some of whom live far away and you rarely see, PLUS you’ve got the rest of your life to sex it up with your spouse – so why the fuck not? But I digress…

Turns out Hunky was such a good friend of F-man’s that he had the adjoining suite to them. That translated into everyone also chilling out in Hunky’s room. At some point I ended up sitting on Hunky’s lap, in his room, alternately making out with him and chatting up some guy I went to grade school with. One exchange that took place:

Guy from Grade School: So how long have you two been together?
(An honest question since I was sitting on Hunky’s lap nibbling his lower lip.)
Redhead: I don’t know, how long have we known each other? 12 hours?
Hunky: We met yesterday.
Redhead: We didn’t talk yesterday though.
Hunky: I said hi to you. But yeah, I’d say about 12 hours.
Guy from Grade School: (Has no idea what to say, hence silence.)

And so the evening went until I – at that point VERY drunk – simply leaned over and whispered to Hunky, “I’m ready for bed now.” Without missing a beat Hunky yelled “Everybody out!” I might have only been marginally embarrassed by this if the fucking bride and groom hadn’t been in the room at the time! They were spending their wedding night hanging out with us, and WE threw THEM out to have sex?

You uh, probably know what happened after that. His performance was…uninspired. I mumbled “I’m too tired” the next morning when he reached for me again (hint to all the men out there: when a woman’s saying that after only your first night together, you didn’t impress the shit out of her), and when my mother called at 9 to ask if I was ready for her to pick me up, I said yes.

Only the really weird part of this story (at least to me) was that as I was getting dressed Hunky rolled over and asked me for my number. I must have looked stunned (didn’t he know the rules – we were never supposed to speak again, that’s the whole POINT of a one night stand) because he instantly said, “You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said, still probably looking confused, before shrugging my shoulders and…well, giving him my number. What were the odds he was going to call anyway? He lived across the country after all. I figured he was just being polite.

So after a quick peck on the lips, I left that rumpled cutie on the bed and proceeded to do the ultimate in the walk of shame. Yes, there are few things more humbling that walking through a hotel lobby at 9:30am on a Sunday in a rumpled bridesmaid’s dress. Well, unless you factor in that you’re walking through that lobby to get to your MOTHER’S car that is.

And…that’s it. A kind of boring and WAY too revealing Drunk Redhead story. The weirdest thing about it though is that Hunky actually did call me like 2 days later. And a few times after that too. Huh.

So yeah, there you go. I make great decisions when I’m drunk. But the true moral to this story is: I have no one to blame for my love life but myself.

I MAY Be an Asshole

2008-05-29T16:08:00.002-04:00

I’m going to write something more tomorrow (on a totally different topic I’m sure), but in the meantime some thoughts:

-I’ve managed to argue my landlord down $250 a month for next year's rent – just to be clear, that’s $250 down from a $500 a month increase, so now we’re talking about me paying $250 more a month next year. Get it? Yeah, I’m so annoyed at this point that I think I’m just going to say ‘Fuck it’ and take the deal. Who wants a savings anyway?

-At this point my job has turned into roughly 10% me actually editing and evaluating books, and 90% me negotiating deals and fighting with people. Now that’s fine in theory – hey, I like to fight – but everyone that I’m dealing with is taking it so fucking personally! This is business people – I’m not here to do you any favors. Unfortunately I’m getting the impression my predecessor wasn’t aware of this fact, and he gave everyone we work with a false sense of security; it’s now my job to yank that safety blanket away and burn it before their eyes. I call this my Breaking Them In Period. I’ve got to tell you though, it’s exhausting being this much of a bitch THIS MUCH of the time. Yes people, there is a limit. Who knew?

-I went away with Fancy Pants last weekend. Yeah, it went about as well as you’d expect. (The only reason he lived through Memorial Day was I’m too shitty a driver to have made it back to the city in one piece without him.) I’m thinking tonight is a good night to end things. Wish me luck! (And yes, I realize this is waayyyy overdue.)

-I have the maturity of a 12 year old sometimes – case in point, my eating/drinking habits. Not to get too into it, but I have about 2-3 energy drinks a day, roughly 2 coffees, and I really only eat pretzels and granola bars while at work (which is from around 8:15-6:30, 5 days a week). At what age are you supposed to be capable to taking better care of yourself that…well, than a prepubescent who (generally) still lives with her parents? Wait, don’t answer that – I prefer ignorance.

OK party people – more tomorrow. I’ve missed you (woops, there I go lying again) and I’m going to make it up to you (possibly)!

I Hate Everyone

2008-05-14T14:53:00.003-04:00

Let’s recount my last week, shall we? On Friday I was taking a shower and a pipe burst in my bathroom; I had a head of hair full of shampoo and no water coming from the showerhead (it was coming from the walls however). Yup, sucked to be me. But I’m a trooper, so after speaking with my super and rinsing my hair out in the kitchen sink, I surveyed the damage to my bathroom, shrugged my shoulders and went off to work. After that it was a fairly uneventful day.

Let’s move on to Saturday.

I started the day on Saturday by going out with Christine for manicure/pedicures, and after that we got some coffee and just wandered around. I ended things early before we got into an (inevitable) fight, and went home to find…honestly it can only be described as complete fucking chaos. My bookshelves – the same ones I’ve described in the past as ‘overflowing with books’ and ‘looking like a damn library’ had, of course, collapsed. Books EVERYWHERE. Shelves everywhere. Broken pictures/picture frames…everywhere. All my pretty porcelain thingamabobs – broken fucking everywhere!

Oh, and my cat was scared shitless – I hadn’t been home when it happened and I can only imagine the noise it made. But more importantly…what if she had been hurt?! She’s little and light, and my bookshelves are big and VERY heavy. (Honestly, that’s the point of the story that freaks me out the most.) Anyway, so after gathering up all the shelves, collecting the broken pieces of some of my favorite things (throwing most of them away), and stacking all my books so that they covered the entire floor of my kitchen and living room, I was ready to trudge off to Crate & Barrel.

Only OOPS, the downtown trains weren’t running – so I got to hoof it. Awesome.

Long story short, $500 dollars later I had my ‘easy to put together’ new bookcases being delivered between 6 and 9pm (they showed up at 8), and I got to cancel my dinner plans in order to wait home with my tool kit in hand. (Oh, and if you’re wondering if Fancy Pants decided to come over and keep me company/help, then you’re fucking high. He didn’t understand a) why I had gotten something that wasn’t already put together – one word: cheaper, and b) why I wasn’t paying someone else to put it together for me – five words: I’m not a lazy incompetent. So FP ended up going out with his boys while I stayed home with my screwdriver and built shit.)

I finished at 2am (shut up, I have no sense of humor about this) with one broken toe (fucking shelves slipped), two (okay, probably more than two) very graphic death threats aimed at the jackass who wrote the Crate & Barrel assembly instructions (fucking masochist), and three new interconnecting bookcases (which look fucking beautiful, thank you very much).

I am a rock star.

Sunday was Mother’s Day – I hung with my parents and tried to drink away the pain in my foot.

Monday I was sick – goddammit – and stayed home and slept all day.

But the real topper was yesterday. It started out like any other ‘morning after I was out sick’ day – in other words, I had about a hundred emails waiting for me that were all time-sensitive. As the day progressed, and my headache got worse, I managed to get into a fight with one of my vendors; short version is she said I'd ordered something I hadn’t, I said ‘um, no,’ she said she had email proof of this, I said ‘okay, send it on over,’ she said ‘okay,’ and then never sent it (because it doesn’t fucking exist). She then went to my boss and complained about me; my boss – already having been apprised of the situation by me – told her she was wrong and she knew it. She admitted this. To my boss. To me she never said anything (of course).

Douchebag.

So after all that I went home kind of needing a drink, only I made the (in retrospect) poor choice of picking up my mail before going into my apartment (I should have put that off as long as possible). Why? Well dear readers, let me tell you: My lease for next year – for my apartment – had just arrived. And it was a doozy. Just how much is my rent being raised? (It’s always being raised, no matter how bad the economy is.) Go on, guess – what would seem like a fair hike off of $1600 a month?

If you guessed $2100 a month you’re right! The prize is you can kiss my ass! I am fucking done! $500…mother…fucking…MORE…dollars…a…month.

(Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths…)

Goddammit this isn’t working. So now I’m trying to figure out where the hell I’m going to move, how I’m going to find the place, how freaking expensive moving is, how unbelievably depressing looking at apartments in NY is, and how I DO NOT want to deal with this right now.

Needless to say, I’ve been having a bad week. And contrary to popular opinion around here, I’m not actually a bad person – so this fucking bad karma is really starting to piss me off. I don’t deserve it. I’m one more bad day away from moving in with Fancy Pants here. (Note: I’m fucking kidding, calm down.) But still, if anything good could possibly happen right now, I’d really appreciate it. Thanks.

Let’s Use Our Brains for Once

2008-05-08T10:16:00.004-04:00

Here’s a question for you guys (and be flattered I’m asking you this, it means I think you may have something intelligent and worthwhile to say): What are the 5 books every child should read?

Some background info – my mother is an English teacher with a Doctorate in Education and Reading; I have been working in and around children’s books for the last 6 years and am considered somewhat of an expert on the subject. So when my mother called me last night and told me she had been asked to answer this question, I started laughing. That might be the fucking HARDEST question a person could ask either of us. It also sparked a long and intensely engaging conversation. I mean, which angle do you take when answering this? Is there an age limit? Are we talking just elementary school or K-12? Are we including pre-school books on the list? And what the hell – ONLY 5?!

In the end I chose books that either kicked my ass (both emotionally and intellectually) or were so important they couldn’t be left off the list. But the best part about this was that my mother had a completely different list, and the reasons for her choices were just as valid as my own. And you know what, THAT got my juices flowing (yes, at the end of the day I’m a dork who loves talking about books).

My Top 5 list is (and no mcbias, The Phantom Tollbooth is nowhere to be found):

The Giver by Lois Lowry
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls
Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling

Nope, no Shakespeare on the list (and I am a devoted Shakespeare fanatic). No, I kept the list narrowed down to books that I couldn’t bear to NOT have there. These are all books that I thought about for days, weeks – hell, I still feel something when I think about them – after finishing them. I cried like a baby over every one. (Note: I realize I made Harry Potter 1 choice even though there’s technically 7 books – I don’t care. I’m not going to pick a favorite since I think they’re all shockingly good, should be read together, and actually mature in writing and story along with their characters. These books had to make my list, not just because they’re a tour de force by J.K. Rowling, but also because they’re legitimately significant historically and socially.)

Now I’m not going to go into my argument here about how I truly believe the best books ever written are all ‘children’s’ books (you people don’t need me to preach here and I don’t have the time to do the argument justice right now), but suffice it to say the list above and the list to come have my favorite books of all time on them. Do I read good ‘adult’ books? Yes, shockingly I do read more than romance novels. However the ones that really blow me away, for whatever reasons (and I have my theories), have always been the ones in the children’s section of the bookstore.

But enough explanation. Some other children’s books that I absolutely loved and would suggest you read even if you are technically adults – in no particular order:

Gathering Blue and The Messenger by Lois Lowry (these two go with The Giver – possibly my #1 book)
Animal Farm by George Orwell
The Pigman by Paul Zindel
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
Bad Boy by Walter Dean Myers
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Burn Journals by Brent Runyon
Sahara Special by Esme Raji Codell
Kaffir Boy by Mark Mathabane
The Cay by Theodore Taylor
The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein (I hated that fucking kid, but still…)
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt
Dr. Seuss (everything he ever wrote – the man was a genius)
William Shakespeare (again, he was a genius and his complete works should be read by every intelligent human being - King Lear is my personal favorite)

Oh, and Catcher in the Rye isn’t on my list – on purpose. You may now proceed to think whatever you want about me, but I never liked that book. Everyone else I know did, but I thought it was crap. So there you go.

Anyway guys, what would be on your lists? Did I miss anything on mine? (These were all off the top of my head, I’m sure I forgot something.) Hate my choices? For once I’m asking what you think and I actually care – blow me away.

I'm Unfocused

2008-05-05T14:21:00.004-04:00

I made it through last week – it’s a miracle! And I just want to say that the drinking I did this weekend was in direct proportion to the amount of stress I felt last week, so…I plead the fifth on any behavior I may have exhibited on Saturday night (sorry Fancy Pants, you were a surprisingly good sport about everything though – in retrospect, the blowjob probably helped). Wow…overshare.

So I went to a podiatrist this morning to get some feedback on my current gimpy state (aka – strained Achilles in BOTH feet/ankles). My father was not pleased when I told him; apparently he has something against podiatrists and wanted me to go to an orthopedic surgeon instead. Didn’t happen. Anyway I’m in no way cured, but the doctor doesn’t seem too concerned about me – I’m already doing a little better, so I guess she’s right that I just need to take it easy for now.

Anywho…what up with you guys? Wait, don’t answer that – I don’t care. Work has eased up tremendously after last week so you’ll probably be hearing more from me in the next few months (before things explode again), but in the meantime…I don’t know, let’s just throw out some random shit and see what happens:

-I’m not really a fruity drink person (hence my fondness for scotch and the occasional dirty martini), but Grey Goose pear vodka with a splash of cranberry is an OUTSTANDING spring drink. FYI.

-What happened at the Kentucky Derby on Saturday is exactly why I can’t watch horse racing. I feel like crying just thinking about it (I’m such a pussy). Moving on…

-It was my assistant’s birthday last week, and being the awesome boss that I am I brought in homemade cookies for her (shut up – I can be domestic). Anyway, so after I drop off the cookies at her desk I go back to my office to do some work. She comes in a few minutes later, sneaks up behind me, and lays a big hug on me while saying ‘Thanks for the cookies.’ Needless to say I stiffened up (I’m not really a hugger). Her reaction – she burst out laughing and said ‘I KNEW that would freak you out, and that meant I had to do it.’ Two thoughts, a) my assistant isn’t scared of me at all, and b) she knows me too well.

-Christine totally redeemed herself when I took her to a Yanks game last week. She bought all the beer (again), surprised me with a big bag of Swedish fish (score), and BARELY made fun of me when I couldn’t walk and was forced to hobble around.

-Fancy Pants bought me a necklace. He gave it to me over the weekend – it’s from Tiffany. I’m…well, I’m a little freaked out by the gift because a) it’s not my birthday or anything and he didn’t seem to have a reason for giving it to me, b) I’m not sure if I should accept it (even though I sort of already did – I was in shock, don’t judge me), and c) while it’s pretty, I’m not going to wear it – something Fancy Pants would know if he…you know, knew me at all!

OK, this may not be totally his fault, but I actually see this necklace thing as a prime example of what’s wrong with our ‘relationship.’ Let me explain – I already have a necklace. One I wear EVERY DAY. It’s an ‘I never take it off’ kind of thing – something that it doesn’t take the most observant person in the world to notice. Only I’m pretty sure Fancy Pants hasn’t noticed – actually that’s not totally true, he MAY have noticed and (being Fancy Pants) decided I needed a little variety when it came to my jewelry. God forbid he actually ask me about the damn thing – like if maybe it has any significance to me perhaps. (FYI, it does – it was my grandmother’s.) But no, our relationship is not based on closeness and meaningful conversation, so…

OK, now I’m just being mean – it was nice of him to get me a gift. It freaks me out and I don’t know what to make of it, but it was nice. (Note to self: Stop being such a bitch.)

- Help me – my addiction to romance novels has recently gotten out of control. Not that I’m embarrassed about it or anything but…OK, I’m a little embarrassed about it.

-So I was going through some stuff this weekend, and I came across an old picture of Stud – an all-time favorite of mine. And I can honestly say, after all these years and all the humiliation I’ve endured because of this guy, I would STILL make a fool of myself if I saw him again and was given half a chance. What is WRONG with me?

Ah fuck – back to work for me. Later in the week, my opinions on all sorts of shit!

I'm a Little Weird. A Little.

2008-04-28T12:21:00.002-04:00

OK everyone, we’re going to keep this pretty short because work has been a beast lately, and I have (no joke) about 30 contracts to put together this week. But an update on my life is always fun, so…

-I’m still with Fancy Pants, but don’t judge me! Now that I’ve figured out it’s all sexual I feel much better about staying with him…just a little while longer. I promise!

-Went out with Linda, her new fiancé, and Fancy Pants on Saturday night. It wasn’t awkward at all! (Total lie – there is pain and THEN there is what I went through this weekend.) I couldn’t decide who I liked less – my date or hers.

Yes people, my life IS awesome.

-Virg finally took my advice, and guess what? He realized I was right. Fucking duh, dude!

-So I’m talking to Christine this weekend – actually, we were at a bar watching the draft – and she asked me about my nephews. This prompted me to start cooing about them (they’re ridiculously cute, I can’t help myself), and I guess I said something along the lines of ‘And the younger one is so cute and chubby!’ Without changing her facial expression Christine replies, ‘Just like his Aunt Redhead.’

She wasn’t joking.

Now just to be clear, I’m 5’8 and weigh 120lbs. I’m not exactly a Large Girl. But Christine…ah, Christine – do I need to take another 2 month ‘mental health’ break from you? (Deep breaths, deep breaths.)

On the plus side, when I told my mother this story she had to put the phone down she was laughing so hard. I love loyalty.

-My assistant – in a fit of rage against me I guess – decided to sign me up for a 5K in June. Now, I don’t run. I exercise (regularly), but jogging has just never been my thing. Until now I guess!

Anyway, since I’m a good sport I decided to go with it. I even went out and got myself new running shoes, new jogging gear (including fancy socks that supposedly suck up my sweat), and started jogging in Central Park. Well…2 weeks in and I’ve done something fucking horrible to my Achilles and am fucking hobbling around like I’m 80 years old! (You should have seen me taking the stairs in and out of the subway this morning – in the rain no less!)

Fucking assistants.

-My cat HATES Fancy Pants. Like, she comes running towards him hissing whenever he comes over. (Keep in mind, she’s 6 pounds.) Yet this bothers him so much that he no longer wants to come over to my place – in fact, he expects me to go to his apartment all the time now.

I don’t think so.

-So, if you were a huge pink vibrator shaped like a cock, what would you name yourself? Um…I’m asking theoretically, of course.

My Life Is a Soap Opera

2008-04-16T19:47:00.003-04:00

Huh, so I’m a little confused right now (well, more than normal anyway). You see…hmmm, how do I say this? Fuck it: Men rarely surprise me. Now what I mean by this is a) I have a fair amount of experience interacting with men – both platonically and romantically, and b) I’m pretty good at reading people. All of that adds up to me (generally) interpreting interactions and situations well. So imagine my surprise when I got a phone call the day after I got back from Italy, from a guy I’d gone on 2 dates with before I left. Pretty contentious dates actually. A guy who I would have bet money I would never hear from again. And yet he called to say…he had MISSED me!

?

OK, you people need some background information here – I met him while at a cozy little wine bar on the Upper East Side about 2 weeks before I left on my trip. He was (is) tall, beautiful, and so completely and totally wrong for me that it didn’t even matter how good he looked. Everything he said kind of baffled/amused/annoyed me. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was the most surprised person in the bar when he asked for my number and I actually gave it to him.

But I did. And we went out before I left. Twice.

You know what, I need to describe this guy. Let’s call him…Fancy Pants. Fancy Pants is, first and foremost, sick rich. Like, he’s 33 and has a penthouse on 5th Avenue rich. He plays fucking polo rich. He wears nothing but designer clothes and custom-made suits rich. He exclusively dates models rich.

Are you getting a good mental picture yet?

Now, let me be clear here – I’m a fairly self-confident woman. And I DON’T think this guy is too good for me. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he wants me. As far as I can tell, Fancy Pants is a man who is interested in having a trophy on his arm, not a real woman. And while I like to think of myself as a catch, I am not a model. I have crazy hair that I don’t straighten every day (or…um, ever really). Most of my clothes, while nice, have at least a few cat hairs on them (I live with a cat, it’s impossible for me to avoid it). I wake up in the morning looking human. And my personality is…quirky.

Yet this guy is now fully pursuing me. Even after our first 2 dates – where we disagreed about, oh, everything – he kept calling me. He remembered what day I was getting back from Italy and called me. He took me out to dinner last night and started talking about the FUTURE for fuck’s sake. He nonchalantly mentioned that he wouldn’t want his wife to work!

Actually, that last point leads into my biggest confusion here. This guy pisses me off when he talks. He calls his mother ‘mum’ even though he’s not British. He’s obsessed with status symbols and has no concept of people who can’t afford a $500 bottle of wine with their Tuesday night dinner. He actually fucking told me that he doesn’t understand why people read novels – he feels reading the newspaper is all that’s necessary AND a much more worthwhile use of his time.

I FUCKING READ AND ACQUIRE BOOKS FOR A LIVING!

But I keep accepting dates with him. And I’m not sure why! I certainly don’t care enough about money to be seduced by that. And while he is gorgeous, there are plenty of fabulous looking men out there. So…what the fuck is going on?! I honestly can’t quite figure myself out here. I suppose I might just be fascinated by him – I mean, I am curious if there’s a real person buried in there somewhere. But…

We’re going out again tomorrow night. Linda joked that I’m going to marry him before I figure this whole thing out (I sincerely hope not, but at this point I don’t trust myself to make any smart decisions concerning him). Maybe…maybe I’m trying to fix him? I know women who do that – I’ve never been a big fan of the practice since it always seemed like a lot of wasted effort to me, but…

Yeah, enough pondering for one evening. Do any of you guys have any theories? I’m going to go pour myself a glass of wine from a nice $12 bottle – don’t tell Fancy Pants.

Guess Who’s Back? Redhead’s Back!

2008-04-13T21:18:00.002-04:00

Hey there party people, miss me? No? Well fuck you! Sorry about that – I’m still a little jet-lagged and that seems to be making me a tad punchy so…um, deal with it. Yeah, as you can probably already tell 2 weeks in Italy hasn’t change my uniquely sunny disposition, but hey, that’s not what you guys want, right? Right?

Anyway, I’m not going to promise anything here – when I finally pull myself together and start sleeping during normal hours I expect to be able to write something marginally coherent – but in the meantime here are some snippets from my trip to keep you entertained. Oh and yes, I realize I’m a little nutty right now. I’m just SO FUCKING TIRED. OK, here goes:

-I got freaking frisked in the Madrid airport! Good times.

-I never had to go through customs when entering Europe. Passport control – yes. Customs, not so much. Anyone else concerned?

-Linda called me about 2 days into my trip and couldn’t understand why I was already asleep when she called – it was only 10:30 at night after all. Um, actually it was 4:30 in the morning for me, but dumbass here (that would be me) forgot to tell her when I would be out of town. She was understandably apologetic when she realized she had just called me overseas.

-I immediately forgave Linda for the above transgression when she told me the reason she’d called was because she’d just gotten engaged. I mentioned her (now) fiancé here. I’m, um, going to be a bridesmaid. This shouldn’t be awkward at all!

Bologna and Some General Observations

-The food in Bologna is insane – never before have business dinners been this enjoyable.

-As a city, Bologna looks kind of like…New Jersey. Only every once in a while there’s something incredibly old and beautiful sitting there to remind you that it’s not quite the same thing.

-Gelato…mmmmmmmm.

-Coca Cola Light is NOT the same thing as Diet Coke.

-There’s something wrong with the water in Italy – when you’re in the shower you can’t even work up a lather when you’re shampooing. There’s hard water and then there’s…whatever the fuck they have there.

-Red Bull is available in Italy. Thank fucking God.

-There’s no such thing as Starbucks or even coffee-to-go in Italy. Hooray Red Bull!

-There’s a little bar off of the Via Indipendenza in Bologna called Swine Bar (no, I’m not kidding). It’s awesome.

-I LOVE Chianti. That is all.

Florence

-Florence is incredibly charming – by far my favorite place in Italy.

-My sister and I climbed to the top of the Duomo immediately after arriving. Some thoughts: 1) Those stairs are no joke – there were A LOT of them. 2) That should have been a clue that wherever those stairs were leading was going to be high up. 3) I’m a moron. 4) HOW did people fucking paint that ceiling when it’s SO HIGH UP?! 5) Are you noticing a theme here yet? 6) The view from the top of the Duomo (above the previously mentioned ceiling) is fucking stunning. 7) Or so I’ve been told – I had a bit of a panic attack at the top (shut up) and plastered myself to the wall while my sister took pictures and enjoyed the view.

-The people who wrote their names on the walls of the Duomo stairwell = colossal assholes.

-The David – possibly the most beautiful thing (with the exception of my nephews) that I’ve ever seen. You can see the muscles in his legs. You can see the veins in his forearms. You can even see the hollow right above his collarbone as it meets his shoulder! There are absolutely no words for that sculpture. I just…nevermind – I can’t do it justice by trying to describe it.

-More gelato – mmmmmmmmmm.

-To the guy who tried to pick me up on the steps outside the Uffizi – I don’t speak Italian and you don’t speak English. Can you see why I finally just shrugged my shoulders and walked away? Still, you were beautiful.

-Walking along the river in Florence on a beautiful spring day was one of those perfect life moments.

-More bottles of good Chianti.

-The shower in our hotel room just…it didn’t make any sense. I’m not going to go into it here, but where they put the shower head just…WHAT were they thinking? My sister and I took a picture of it because we had to show it to people when we got home.

Venice

-Sorry Bruce Paine, but I didn’t hate Venice. I also didn’t love it. It was…absolutely unique. There really is no other place like it, and I found it to be beautiful (all old buildings, narrow streets, water, and bridges). But my main thought was that it reminded me of the mall the day before Christmas – I can’t imagine what that city is like during the height of tourist season. There are SO MANY people stuffed together in these narrow winding alleyways (that’s really what most of the streets are), that I found walking around…frustrating.

-Oh, I also didn’t think it smelled there – although it is just early spring and I was told it had been cool and dry recently which probably helped.

-The pigeons are really only in San Marco Square – where yes, the sheer number of them is staggering – so again Paine, they didn’t really bother me.

-Water taxis are the way to go in Venice to get a quick little tour – don’t do the gondolas, they’re a massive ripoff.

-My sister, with her incredible sense of direction, got her ass absolutely KICKED by this city. What a fucking nightmare place to navigate. We spent way more time lost than I’m really comfortable admitting.

-The gelato in Venice sucks – those people need to get their act together. Good wine though.

And…I’m tired – let’s stop here for now. A quick wrapup – the trip was awesome but NOT relaxing. My sister and I had a fabulous time together – we’re talking quality bonding here; man, we laughed (and drank) A LOT. We both may be marginally insane, but I’d argue it’s in the best possible way. And I’m a little scared of going to work tomorrow and seeing all the emails that are waiting for me. Wish me luck!

Ciao!

2008-03-28T11:27:00.003-04:00

Hey all,

So I’ve been a teeny bit stressed lately getting ready to leave for Italy – and considering that I’m leaving tomorrow and haven’t packed or really done anything to prepare (outside of work), I’m laughably NOT ready. The sheer amount of shit I’ve had to get done in order to leave the office for 2 weeks is…daunting to say the least. AND, since the first few days of my trip are, in fact, work related (don’t mock, it makes the flights free), I also have to prepare for 4 straight days of meetings. AGH!!!!!!

Anyway, I’ve now been reduced to such a tightly strung mess that both Christine and my assistant have started to ask if maybe they should just go out and get some necessities for me, like, oh I don’t know, toiletries! I need little toothpaste tubes and little shampoos and conditioners for my trip, and I don’t have the time (or inclination) to get them! I also seem to have misplaced the 3 pairs of shoes that I actually remembered to buy for this trip!

OK, too many exclamation points. The lesson here is 1) I’m a spaz, 2) I’m leaving on a jet plane tomorrow and am not prepared, 3) the exchange rate between euros and US dollars is obscene, 4) I haven’t eaten in like 3 days I’m so stressed about being away from the office and email for the next 2 weeks (shut up – I’ve become the person I used to mock), 5) the odds of my luggage getting lost during this trip are staggeringly good, and 6) I’m going to miss my cat while I’m away (I SAID shut up).

But I didn’t want to leave without throwing something up here, so here goes – a short story about why I’m a danger to myself:

I fell asleep last night like I always do – my head hit the pillow, my brain whirred around reminding me of all the stuff I had forgotten to do that day, and shortly thereafter I shrugged it off and fell asleep. Now, I sleep like the dead. I LOVE sleeping, so I’ll admit to not noticing/waking up to many things once I’ve settled in to my REM cycle. But I will say that even I was surprised when I woke up on the FLOOR this morning. Apparently, at some point during the night I fell off the bed (taking my pillow with me it would seem), and I NEVER WOKE UP. My alarm went off, I opened my eyes, and I found myself sprawled out on my hardwood floor staring at the (rather impressive) collection of dust bunnies under my bed.

My cat was still in the place she had begun the night – lying in the middle of my bed on the comforter. My cat is smarter than I am.

And finally, a question that you will all probably be too late in answering: Do you tip cab drivers in Italy?

Step Back, Jack

2008-03-21T09:22:00.004-04:00

Hmmm, it seems like every time I get an angry comment from Cobra about my sporadic posting, I invariably give in and put something up here in response…like right now. I’m thinking this makes our relationship mildly unhealthy – he puts me down and I jump in an effort to please him. I’m also thinking this makes me a pussy – both figuratively (I mean, why should I care if Cobra’s pissed?) and, obviously, literally (because…well you know, I have one). So Mr. Jack Cobra, I will not accede to your wishes (after this one time of course)! I will post when I want, about what I want, and for as long as I want!

In fact, just for that…we’re having another Book Club. Hold on tight boys, this is going to get ugly.

(Warning: For those of you who weren’t around for the last book club, these are not for “good” books. I only cover books that were frankly so shocking, I just had to share the perversity. So if you’re one of those figurative pussies, bail out now.)

Oh, also – NSFW! If you’re going to read this at your desk, make sure no one’s standing behind you.

Book title: Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr
Redhead’s comments: I bought this book without even bothering to find out what it was about – apparently putting gorgeous, almost-naked male bodies on the cover really is a good marketing ploy.

Author: Elizabeth Amber
Redhead’s comments: I’d never read anything by this author before, but as I’ve already stated the cover was…compelling.

Synopsis (from the publisher): Nicholas looks very much like what he is – the handsome, successful heir to a vineyard in Tuscany. But Nicholas is much more, for he is one of the last in an ancient line of satyr men. And the dying king of ElseWorld wants him not only to marry, but to wed one of the king’s own daughters – a half-human, half-faerie woman unaware of her heritage. Nicholas won’t shirk his duty to produce heirs to guard his race’s legacies, but he never plans to make his bride his only lover. A satyr’s sexual hunger and sensual skills are legendary. One woman will never satisfy him.

Or so Nicholas believes until he meets Jane. As spirited as she is fey, as beautiful as she is innocent, she is nevertheless determined to make her new husband hers alone – and she’s eager for him to teach her every deliciously carnal secret he knows…

Redhead’s comments: OK, first and foremost – shut up. I know how it reads. And honestly, I don’t care; it should come as no surprise to anyone that the romance genre leans heavily into fantasy. Anyway, I decided to read this book with an open mind, and holy shit it’s a good thing I did. What they don’t tell you in the synopsis: These satyr guys grow a 2nd dick during every full moon, or as they like to refer to it, the Calling. And they use them – not surprisingly – for double penetration. But um, some other things happen during this full moon as well. Rather than describing it myself (which frankly makes me blush), let’s jump to the excerpt a little early.

Excerpt:
His lips brushed her shoulder. “My second cock is quenched,” he told her. “It will trouble you no more this night.”

He made no mention of the fact that his other oversize cock remained inside her vagina, poised and throbbing.

She wiggled against it. “I thought I felt, that is… Didn’t you spill inside me?”
A hand stroked her rib. “This is the way of the Calling. My shaft won’t grow flaccid until sunrise.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Excellent.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He grinned and withdrew only to turn her to face him and slide into her again. Wrapping a hand under her bottom he lifted her slightly, tilting her hips forward.

He fucked her shallowly for a time, letting her opening massage the swollen plum of his tip, watching her accommodate it over and over. The petals of her labia folded inward with his taking and then blossomed outward with each retreat. His hand slid higher along her hips, and he pressed closer, watching her face.

“The elixir did its work then? My second cock didn’t cause you too much distress?”

“No, you were right. It – ahh!?” Startled, she cried out, trying to sit up and scoot away. “Something is – ahh!”

An unidentified serpentine instrument had unfurled from below his scrotum to tickle its way inside her anus! She wiggled her buttocks in confused delight as more of the tonguelike protrusion made its way into her rear entrance.

“Oh! What is that?” she asked, sighing despite the strangeness of it.

“The Seeker. Another feature of the Calling,” he informed her with a rakish smile. “One females are said to greatly enjoy.”

The long appendage slithered within the crimpled crevice of her buttocks, licking up his deposits and healing her abraded tissue.

Redhead’s comments: Yeah…yeah. So, it took me about 2 weeks to come back and finish the book after this scene. I am just NOT, NOT, NOT a fan of snakes, and (while I realize what the author was going for here) that pretty much means this scene put into words my worst nightmare. And didn’t give ANY warning that it was going to happen. (Deep breaths…) So yeah, this time around I’m using the Book Club as a way to exorcise the demons that this book put in my head. Does this scene creep any of you out too? (Besides the boys, who are going to complain no matter what.) I mean what…the…fuck?! Snakes ENTERING the body?! Damnit, I need a drink.

Wrapup: Total sex scenes…um, a bunch (including one with the female protagonist, Nicholas, and his 2 brothers). Will I be reading the other 2 books in this series? No fucking way. Overall mental anguish brought on by this book – more than I would care to admit. Overall mental anguish passed on to my readers thanks to this book club – I would image a considerable amount. Sorry about that guys.

So anyway Jack, that one was for you.

Thoughts, Issues, General Awesomeness

2008-03-12T20:43:00.002-04:00

-So my assistant gets all angry this morning (on my behalf) because some publisher sends her an email essentially saying he wants to have a meeting with me just so he can tell me off. (I never like any of the books he sends me so I have her return all of them with our standard rejection letter.) My comment to her about this: ‘You know what, schedule the meeting. I’m in the mood for a good fight.’ My assistant then tells me I’m cool.

Then this afternoon my assistant mentions to me that the guy downstairs (who cuts all our POs and is admittedly a stud – at least in the looks department) has a huge crush on me. My response to that: ‘Yeah, I know.’ At that point she tells me I’m awesome.

Clearly my assistant is easily impressed. Still, I’ll admit to enjoying the fact that she thinks I’m a rock star.

-Why the fuck is Daylight Savings Time starting so early nowadays? I feel like I’m getting up in the middle of the night. This shit has got to stop.

-I saw The Bank Job with Jason Statham this weekend (somehow I managed to talk Christine out of seeing The Other Boleyn Girl – thank God), and I have to say…pretty damn good. Oh, and Jason Statham is too, too sexy. I want to lick him all over. (Overshare?)

-Christine and I decided to go out for brunch before the movie on Saturday. Now for those of you who don’t live in NY, it was raining like a motherfucker (is that even a saying?) on Saturday. And the place I chose for brunch had, well, closed at some point between the last time I’d been there and this past weekend. (I have a weird knack for choosing places that are no longer open – it’s a gift.) So anyway, needless to say we ended up having to find another place to obtain sustenance. So we started walking, and at some point I decided to just walk through a shallow puddle rather than going around it (hell I was soaked anyway, and my jeans were so weighed down I didn’t want to have to do ‘the leap’ either), so…yeah, let’s just say I misjudged the…um, HEFT of the puddle. In reward for my laziness I got an impromptu NYC street bath at the corner of 88th and 3rd.

I guess you can imagine the shape I was in when we finally arrived at our brunch restaurant of choice. Long story short I decided to self-medicate against the cold and my soaking wet clothes by drinking WAY too much alcohol (at least for noon on a Saturday), and because of this I arrived at the movie completely blasted. So for everyone who was at the 2pm showing of The Bank Job on the Upper East Side last weekend – sorry I yelled out ‘Shit, I have to pee!’ halfway through the movie before standing up and stumbling past a row of people and out of the theater. And…um…sorry I wasn’t any quieter when I came back. 3 mimosas and 2 bloody marys so early in the day was – in retrospect – a poor idea.

-The pipes in my kitchen are making this weird sound…kind of like a truck starting. Should I be worried? Do I have to clean my apartment before calling my super to come take a look? What are the odds that I get around to fixing this in the next month?

-The guy standing next to me on the train this morning smelled amazing. I thought I was being nonchalant about the fact that I was…um…essentially sniffing a stranger on the subway (shut up – don’t judge me). I learned that I was wrong when he turned and gave me a look that said quite clearly, ‘What the fuck are you doing, Crazy Woman?’ Have you ever seen a redhead blush? I mean REALLY blush? I looked like I was on fire.

-I rolled over the other night and almost killed my cat (and FYI, have you ever head a cat screech? Damn). I feel bad about that. Just thought I’d share.

-Did I ever tell you guys about the time I was doing Tae Bo (back when the videos came out), and I punched myself in the face? Yeah, nothing says ‘I exercise’ like a black eye.

-So Christine just called me to discuss this whole Eliot Spitzer debacle. Know what lesson we seem to have learned from this whole thing? We should have become high priced prostitutes. No, seriously – Christine (an Ivy League educated MBA grad) and I both commented on how much these chicks can make in an hour, and we decided we were wasting our lives in real jobs. Turns out every woman does have her price, and $1500 an hour seems to be ours.

And on that note – what’s going on with you guys? Still pissed I’m not posting enough? Is anyone still reading this damn thing?

Not a Real Post

2008-03-07T12:37:00.003-05:00

So I'm running the weekly production meeting at work this morning, and it was about as close to a train wreck as anything I've ever seen (although admittedly, I've never technically seen a REAL trainwreck). The information I had, no one wanted. The questions that were asked, I didn't have satisfactory answers for. The papers I asked my assistant to print out, somehow didn't make it into the meeting. The questions I asked, nobody deigned to answer. And overall it was just...well, it wasn't anything good. So imagine my surprise when I'm gathering my stuff afterwards, and my boss turns to me:

Boss: I thought that went really well.
Redhead: Are you kidding?
Boss: Not at all. You really held your own in there.
Redhead: It was a bloodbath!
Boss: You did a good job.

Anyway, yeah - I'm pretty sure my boss has lost her mind (or she's on drugs). But on the plus side, maybe she won't notice if I leave early today. Or at the very least she'll share the drugs.

You May Be Dumber After Reading This

2008-03-05T11:58:00.002-05:00

If you guys think I’ve only been ignoring you recently, you’re just wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. I am, at this point, the worst friend/(ex)girlfriend in the world. Need examples? Okey dokey.

An email I got from Christine yesterday went a little something like this: Dude, I’ve called and left messages like 5 times in the past 3 weeks. What the fuck is your problem? Call me back!

My parting words for my too-young-for-me-anyway boyfriend: I don’t have time for this right now. I’m sorry.

The 2 emails (and by that I mean that this happened on two separate occasions) I sent out to my old work colleagues only hours before we were planning on meeting for dinner: It’s looking like I’m going to have to work late again tonight. Can we reschedule?

I am officially the hardest working person I know. And goddamn it, I don’t want to be! My assistant is great, but it didn’t occur to me that you can’t train a person to be an editor (when they have no previous experience) in just a week or so. Which sucks. So in conclusion: 1) Being an editor isn’t as easy at it looks (which I should have known; I used to be one), 2) giving one person a job (namely me) that two people used to do is just cruel, because there aren’t enough hours in the day for that one person to get all the shit that needs to get done, done, and 3) I’m fucked (and once again, not in the good way).

But enough bitching (total lie)! How’s everyone else’s life treating them? Anything interesting happen to you people lately? As for me, well…yeah, I’ve been working a lot. I broke up with my too-young-for-me-anyway boyfriend (as I’m sure you gathered above). John is still not speaking to me, but I heard he did ask a mutual friend how I was. Linda bought me a new vibrator as a gift since I had to get rid of my old computer and all its (unintentional) porn. I saw Avenue Q two weeks ago on Broadway and loved it (Guy: Cum. Woman: -mitment. Guy: Cum. Woman: -mitment.) – so funny. I still haven’t made reservations for my Italy trip yet (besides having plane tickets I’ve done jack shit as far as planning goes) and my sister is going to kill me when she finds out (yes, I’m going to Italy with the sis). And…

Yeah, so I’m thinking I should write something for you here besides boring updates about my life. So…is there anything everyone has always wanted to know about me? Do you want me to maybe do a post about all the things that piss me off? The list really does go on and on and on. Maybe you want another story from my past – just ask! (Is anyone even still reading this – admittedly – poorly updated blog?) Or if you’re feeling really brave maybe you want my advice on something going on in your life – I’m full of opinions and am not afraid of sharing! Hell, maybe you want my thoughts on…some topic to be named later – I’m your woman.

Ah fuck it, this is the most boring post ever. I promise to do better next time. In the meantime I have to go back to work. Still, good shit coming in the future. I swear. Really.

Be Nice!

2008-02-27T16:16:00.003-05:00

Okay everyone, I realize my posting has been lackluster of late, but bite me - cut a girl some slack! My home computer caught a nifty little virus that prompted it to start downloading porn (against my will), and I was not exactly feeling the love when everyone I knew a) didn't believe it was against my will and was frankly SHOCKED by some of my porn choices (as was I), and b) thought this whole porn fiasco was hysterical and didn't realize just how fucked I was until...the virus started stealing personal information from me (ed. note: FUCK!, I'm in the middle of acquiring all new bank accounts and credit cards right now), and eventually destroyed my laptop so that it doesn't even turn on. Needless to say I'm a little disheartened at the moment. But please, yell at me for not updating! Bring it on!

OK, I'm leaving the office early to go pick up my new Mac laptop (which set me back a grand I didn't want to spend), but I'll try to update in the next day or two so I can entertain you fuckers. Shit...does anyone have any funny stories they can share right now? I'm in desperate need of a laugh.

A Post Valentine’s Look Back

2008-02-15T13:16:00.001-05:00

Yeah, I’m actually not that into Valentine’s Day – I learned through trial and error long ago that it’s never going to live up to expectations (whether you’re in a relationship or not), so it’s not even worth trying. Hence, I make a conscious effort to do nothing on the 14th of February.

Don’t get me wrong, I think the idea of setting aside one day a year simply to remind people to say ‘I love you’ is actually kind of nice, but let’s also be very clear here: Valentine’s Day is a made-up holiday that generally pisses more people off than it makes happy. And this is coming from someone who got chocolates AND cupcakes yesterday. (Sidenote: Sweets are so much better than flowers.)

But I digress, this post is really just about a nice little look back at two of my more memorable Valentine’s Days – one good and one bad – to a) show that I’ve seen this “holiday” from all sides, and hopefully explain why I now choose to spend it alone (even when I’m in a relationship); yes I’m weird, and b) give yet another example of my hideous taste in men and hopefully entertain you people.

The Good:
I was dating this guy years ago – he was fine, a little flaky but overall a nice guy – and lo and behold, Valentine’s Day rolled around about 4 months into our relationship. Mr. Flaky, being….um, flaky I guess, sort of blanked on it. And this was way back when I still had certain Valentine’s Day expectations. Essentially what happened was I showed up at his apartment (no, he didn’t come to me, that would have been too thoughtful), only to be greeted with ‘I uh, didn’t make any reservations anywhere. And my roommate just told me we wouldn’t be able to just show up someplace. Sooo, uh…what do you want to do?’

Fucking moron.

Anyway, since I couldn’t very well call him a moron to his face (no, even I’m not that mean), I instead tried to remain positive while looking around for flowers, candy, something, ANYTHING. But (as I’m sure you already realize) there was nothing like that around. Still, I didn’t give up (ah, to be young and stupid again – oh fuck it, I might as well admit that the guy was really cute and that counted for more than it should have back then …I was only human!).

I instead went and took a seat on his couch and watched him take bong hits while he struggled to ‘think’ of something for us to do on Valentine’s Day.

Finally, after about 2 hours of this, we just piled into his car and went for a drive. At some point we got hungry and stopped at a diner. In the middle of nowhere (seriously, we had driven for a while and were far from home). And that’s when it happened – we sat down in this little Mom & Pop diner, late at night on Valentine’s Day, and actually looked around. And we found that we were surrounded by these little old couples, from this small town, and everyone looked so…in love. And they were at a DINER. (Yes, I’m a snob, but I swear I have a point.) The point was, they were at this diner – probably the only restaurant in this small town – and they didn’t care. They didn’t care where they were, they only cared who they were with. And somehow, even though I had always known what was important and what wasn’t, it really hit home that night. Because they were right. This little diner was romantic for that one night. And as cheesy as it sounds now, I still get a little mushy inside thinking about it. So shut up and back off.

Anyway, long story short Mr. Flaky and I ended up having a great night. Once we walked into the diner it was like we both exhaled, relaxed, and actually took the time to enjoy each other’s company. To this day that’s my favorite Valentine’s memory.

The next year Mr. Flaky and I were still together (I know, I know), and he pulled out all the stops getting me 2 dozen roses, chocolates, dinner reservations, etc. And honestly, the day kind of sucked. We broke up shortly afterward. So you see, it’s not the STUFF that counts, it’s the person. (Now I just need to find one that’s worthwhile.)

The Bad:
This story doesn’t even deserve a good set-up. Suffice it to say I once dated a guy who had the nerve to ask me, on the night of Valentine’s Day, if he could blow off our plans to spend the night hanging with his buddies. Not to get too into my reaction, but let’s just say it wasn’t good. And this guy didn’t end up spending the night with his buddies. Nor did he spend it with me in my bed. Or with me at a restaurant. No, he spent it sitting in the hallway outside my apartment groveling.

The groveling didn’t work.

So those are my Valentine’s stories, is it any wonder that I choose to simply take all the pressure off and avoid the holiday now? But what about you guys? Does anyone have any of their own stories that are better (or worse). I gave The Good and The Bad – who has The Ugly?

One F*cking Year!

2008-02-14T06:59:00.002-05:00

I know, I can’t believe it either – who thought I would stick around a whole year (my recent inactivity ignored of course). Yup, Redhead and I’m Always Right have been around for 365 days (or wait, is today 366?). Why I started on Valentine’s Day is anyone’s guess, but what a year it has been. I had many weird moments, spilled my guts to you people, pissed many of you off (sorry about that, but I seem to have a gift), told some classic Redhead stories, bitched about…everything, lost a job, gained a job, blah, blah, blah. So, in true blog fashion, we’re going to celebrate with a look back. Here are some of my favorite posts:

My 3rd post, and a nice little introduction to me.

For all the ladies out there – this wish list is still pretty fucking accurate.

My first Drunk Redhead story.

One thing to know about me – whether you like it or not, I love me my Yankees. Oh, and…um…A-Rod. Shut up!

Seriously, this is how my brain works…it’s like I have ADD or something.

My friends and I are so weird.

When it comes to certain guys, pride apparently means nothing.

I still can’t drive a stick. Just saying.

You can find the weirdest stuff on the internet. But for me…well, that just gives me something to write about.

I was in a bad mental place when I wrote this. Sadly, I was in the same mental place yesterday, yet I wrote NOTHING. You’re welcome.

For once, I gave legitimately good advice. Strange, I know.

So I had a fight with a spider, and MAN did I lose. The Hideous Trifecta: One, Two, and Three.

I am a goddamn awesome friend, and don’t you forget it.

I should have realized at this point that it was only a matter of time before I became a vegetarian.

I may be a selfish bitch, but for my nephews…I’d do anything.

An important lesson: I’m not nearly as cool as I like to pretend I am.

And…ah shit, this is getting long. OK, I’m going to stop here – if there are others from the archives that you want me to link to, just say so and I’ll add them. If not…well, you suck. Either way, I guess what I’m trying to say here is I’ve had fun this past year. Hope you have too. Now enough of the mushy stuff – I’ll be back next week with some more Redhead goodness/badness/whining/annoyingness.

Very, Very Quick

2008-02-06T10:54:00.001-05:00

So I’m walking down the street this morning, getting both rained and smoked on (fucking smokers on the street piss me off – I can’t really get pissed at the whole precipitation thing since 1) it’s all natural so there’s no one to get pissed at, and 2) I’m the moron who forgot my umbrella today), when some fucker almost lights me on fire!

No, that’s not an exaggeration. This one smoker (who had been freaking blowing smoke on me for like 2 straight blocks) – I’m speeding up for a reason jackass so don’t fucking speed up too! – finished the interminable cigarette from hell and then THREW the still flaming butt right at me! Fucking asshole.

The cigarette literally came within a fraction of an inch from hitting me. And Mr. Smoker didn’t care. Hell, Mr. Smoker didn’t even notice. And that just wasn’t acceptable.

Needless to say I voiced my objection. Anyway, after yelling at the guy to ‘Watch where you throw your fucking cigarette you incompetent douchebag!’ I walked into my office building and calmly took the elevator to my floor. And as I was recounting the smoker story to one of my colleagues (minus the profanity), she said to me: Wow, you’re not the kind of person I would want to piss off like that.

Now, if one of you said that to me I wouldn’t be surprised (I mean, I’m pretty honest with you guys about my personality flaws), but a colleague? I’m actually really nice to the people I work with. On purpose. So… I’m perplexed. Does my true bitchiness come through without my knowledge. It never has in the past – generally when I get to know people they exclaim how I’m nothing like they thought I was upon first meeting me. ‘Meaner’ I think is the word most often used. But now… Am I losing my touch? Am I off my game?

(mental shrug)

So, happy Wednesday everybody.

Why Do These Need Titles?

2008-02-01T10:33:00.000-05:00

I have so much I want to talk to you guys about, but I’m having a whole catch-22 problem here – if I didn’t have a job or friends I would totally have the time to write posts for you (possibly even in a semi-coherent way), but if I didn’t have the aforementioned job and friends, I probably wouldn’t have anything interesting to say. Alas, life’s not fair.

So I just had a hugely awkward moment – I’m in the office kitchen buying a Milky Way from the vending machine (what, chocolate’s good for you!), when this dude comes in, takes one look at me, and says ‘Hi, I’m M! I feel like I see you every day and I thought I’d finally introduce myself.’ Now picture me, smiling and nodding my head at him while I give him my name, and all the while I’m thinking…? If you guessed ‘This guy doesn’t even look remotely familiar to me…am I too young to be going senile?’ you are eligible to win…nothing at all except maybe my respect!

Ooh, quick survey question (for the purposes of this survey imagine yourself a redhead): If a person of the opposite sex approached you in a bar, and asked you (almost immediately) if you were a natural redhead (no small talk had even taken place at this point), would you be offended? I mean, is there ANY way you’re not being asked if everything…matches? Ugh – men.

I’m currently planning my trip to Italy (did I mention I’m going to Italy for 2 weeks this spring?). Anyway, I’m currently planning my trip and I’m already losing my mind – has anyone here ever been to Bologna/Florence/Venice? If you have, feel free to make hotel/restaurant suggestions. Sharing is good! Ugh, I’m burnt out on this vacation already.

Yay, my assistant starts next week! I cannot fucking wait! My head was thisclose to exploding. As I explained to mcbias last week, I have been copyediting around 8 books a day recently – keep in mind that’s a lot of books to cover even if I were, oh I don’t know, a copyeditor. However since I’m NOT a copyeditor (I’m simply the only person in my office capable of doing it), this has obviously been taking up a lot of my time. Time I really should (and weirdly am also expected to) be using to do my JOB – ie. taking meetings, reviewing books, acquiring books, negotiating deals, working on contracts, etc. But now that I have my assistant starting on Monday – someone I can train to copyedit these books for me AND handle my schedule…sigh. Bliss. I’m going to be in such a happy place.

You know what’s NOT a happy place lately – the 6 train in Manhattan. Not only have the trains been a nightmare recently (I REFUSE to believe there have been signal problems EVERY SINGLE DAY during rush hour this week), but everyone on them seems to be sick and coughing on me. This morning I had no less than 8 people hacking away around me, and one guy actually pulled out that Afrin spray and was shooting it up his nose. Right next to me. (I thought I was going to jump out of my skin.) So MTA, just get some trains running and get these MASSES of people to and from work in some sort of an orderly manner. Please (you incompetent assholes!).

And finally a thought on the Cobra Brigade Bruce Paine articles – the series has some sort of name that I can’t remember right now, but hey, since I’m a little late in commenting on these anyway, who cares? My main thought so far: I’m…intrigued (and at times highly disturbed). If you dare, read this beauty on how Paine has decided to get closer to his food source – essentially it means he goes to a farm, chooses the animal he wants, and then helps to slaughter and butcher it; I had several thoughts on this (before I had to stop reading halfway through thanks to my delicate sensibilities). The top 2: 1) I respect anyone who realistically understands and accepts how meat ends up on their plate (God knows I chose to live in intentional ignorance when I ate it), and if, on top of all that, he or she has the balls to actually participate in the process – well, let’s just say I can’t argue that. I might even respect that. 2) If I hadn’t already been a vegetarian before reading that post, I would have been after. Poor little piggy. Bruce Paine is a monster – never forget that.

The other Paine article I want to comment on is Reciprocity – a nifty little conversation on relationships and sex (2 of my favorite topics). And the main thing I want to say is…I agree with him (gasp!). I know, I agree with someone else and I’m taking the time out to mention it here! (Today is a day for miracles apparently.) No, but in all seriousness the basic premise of the post seems to be that sex, like relationships, is about both giving AND receiving. Some other talking points from the post: If you like something (sexually speaking), then your partner should like it too – otherwise you’re fucked (um…but not in a good way). Oh, and you can and will learn more about your own wants and needs as the years go by.

That’s the cliff notes version of what I got out of it anyway – I urge you guys to click the link and read it for yourselves though (he argues things much better than I have the time to here; plus I don’t want to just repeat everything he wrote). One quick note: Ignore the stupid dude in the post who apparently likes dry humping inanimate objects – he was annoying and didn’t really add anything to the conversation. Guys can be such losers when they hang out together.

Alright, that’s it for me today. Have you all missed me?

Thoughts etc.

2008-01-22T12:58:00.000-05:00

So the past week has been exhausting, and rather than going into it I will simply say I am one year older, my liver has been absolutely abused in the past 7 days (a wine bar one night, a martini bar the next night, my favorite scotch place the night after that…), I saw 2 Broadway shows in the past 2 weeks (Chorus Line was not as amazing as I had hoped it would be), I had entirely too much fun with my friends (who paid for everything – bonus!), my family proved to be just as nuts and loving as is humanly possible (2 dinners with them last week – drinks Redhead consumed at said dinners: 9…not counting the bottles of wine with the actual meals), oh, and my job is slowly killing me.

-On the job front my boss actually came to me last week and said they WILL be hiring me an assistant soon, and that she realizes I ‘can’t be expected to keep up this pace in the long term.’ No shit Sherlock. I was starting to think I had sold my soul for a bigger paycheck and more impressive title – I’m still not entirely convinced I haven’t. What else…

-I passed a woman on the street this morning who was pushing a stroller – it was your basic NY stroller with the sun visor thingee, the plastic covering to protect the rider from the wind, etc. The only thing that made this woman stand out to me – she had a DOG sitting in the seat of her Bugaboo (retail price of that stoller: roughly $700). Now I’m as big an animal fan as they come, but having said that – WHAT THE FUCK?! Dogs CAN walk, I’m almost sure of it.

Sometimes people give me a headache.

-I went back to being a redhead. Length of time spent in brunette land – 1 month. This can’t be good for my hair. Still, if you had seen me with my roots growing out...not an attractive look for me. Just NOT an attractive look.

-I’ve decided to write another book – this I’m going to do in my free time. Ah shit, I don’t have any free time, do I? Well whatever, I need some options right now. Did I mention that my job is taking over my life?

-My younger nephew had his birthday party this weekend (1 year old – so damn cute), and I, being the kick-ass aunt that I am, got presents for not just the birthday boy but his older brother as well (who’s only 2 and doesn’t get the selfless thing yet). Anyway, my present for the non-birthday boy was a doctor’s kit: Briefcase, stethoscope, fake cell phone, fake pager, name tag, fake needle, blood pressure cuff, etc. I’m telling you guys, this kit was awesome and went over VERY well.

So I’m home the next morning and my mom calls to tell me the story of Nephew #1 (the older one). It seems that the night before, Nephew #1 had finished his bath and was getting antsy while Nephew #2 was having his turn in the tub, so he exited the room. A minute later he returned – buck naked and wearing only a stethoscope. My brother and sister-in-law immediately did the right thing and grabbed a camera to preserve the moment - and have something to show Nephew #1's future wife.

The first thing that came to mind when my mother told me this story: Why is it that when a little kid does this you think it’s the cutest thing ever, but when a full-grown man does it all you can think is ‘ah shit, he wants to play doctor AGAIN?’

Just kidding – I never get sick of playing doctor.

-My apartment has been fucking freezing this week – I’m thinking that there’s something wrong with my heat (the temperature in NY yesterday was around 13 degrees). YET, I haven’t actually called my super to let him know about the problem. Why? Well, it all gets down to the fact that I feel I need to clean my apartment before he comes to check things out, and I just don’t have the time or energy lately. So I’ve just been layering on clothes and huddling under the covers when I’ve been home.

THAT my friends is why I’m the queen of laziness. Seriously, I dare you to top that. Yeah I didn’t think you could either; don’t feel bad.

-Russell Crowe in Gladiator = Still the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

-I got to choose the restaurant my family went to for my birthday, and even though I’m a miserable, cranky vegetarian (I really am), I chose my favorite steak place to celebrate. I did this because I figured a) I could live vicariously through them, and b) why should everyone else suffer because of my stupid guilt/morality.

Alright, that’s it for now. I promise to try to post more frequently from now on. (Operative word here – try.) Does anyone have anything they want to share?

Happy Birthday to Me!

2008-01-14T21:13:00.003-05:00

OK, I know I dropped off the face of the earth there for a little while and…um…sorry about that. Short version of what’s been going on: Work’s been more than a little nuts (no, I don’t want to talk about it) – I haven’t even visited this little blog in the past week much less anyone else’s, Christine’s life has been falling apart (she got offered a job and then the offer was taken back when her references came back bad – yeah, ouch), John’s not talking to me, and…

Wait, let me tell the John story – so I started seeing this guy just about a week ago (it’s new and yet not – we’ve known each other for a little while). Some problems with this new relationship: 1) He’s 23. I know, I know – now that I’m on the north side of my 20s this is officially robbing the cradle. Oops. 2) This guy happens to work with John and is a friend of his. Double oops. I am now in what we laymen like to call ‘trouble.’

So…yeah.

Hmmm, what else? Oh right, so two weeks ago I’m out with Linda (again), we somehow meet up with a friend from high school (actually, I went to elementary school with this dude and haven’t seen him since we graduated), I got drunk and start chatting up a huge guy with a shaved head, tattoos, and a tongue ring. And then (ugh) I left with said huge dude with the tongue ring (nothing happened – get your heads out of the gutter).

Anyway ever since then I’ve been getting phone calls from people I grew up with and haven’t spoken to in forever (on purpose). Everyone wants to know what’s going on with me and if the rumors are true. ‘Um, what rumors?’ I asked. No one will tell me, but I can guess. Fuck. Conclusion: You never outgrow high school.

And…shit, what else do you guys want to know? Oh yeah, my birthday is this week – I am NOT excited about it. I’m pretty much convinced that every birthday after 21 is a complete buzzkill anyway but still…this one is already annoying. I mean sure, I’m pretty much guaranteed of drinking and eating for free for the next week or so, but this shit is getting old (as am I). I’ve been going out every fucking day already and have plans almost EVERY NIGHT this week.

Now all of that may sound good in theory, but in reality it’s tiring. All I want is a night to myself, and that’s not going to happen for another 7 days or so. Oh, and I’m another year older. And one of my best friends isn’t talking to me. And another friend is as depressing as hell. And a bunch of people I went to 3rd grade with think I’m a slut. But hey on the bright side – free cake!

Hee hee – just got off the phone with my sister. She’s drunk right now and that makes her really funny. Also funny (only not) is that my sister broke up with her dickhead boyfriend. Again. Well that didn’t last long! It would be sad if it weren’t so entertaining (and if I weren’t so happy they’re not together anymore…for now of course – they’ll be back together next week). Still – she deserves better.

Random rant: What the fuck is up with the ending to the movie Titanic? Does this shit piss anyone else off or just me? Things that annoy the shit out of me about the ending:

1) Why does SHE get to float on the piece of wood but not Jack? And if he insisted that she get on first, why didn’t she get on for a little while and then got off and give him some time out of the water? Would that be so fucking hard? What a cow.
2) When he makes her promise to live – for him – why doesn’t she ask the same of him. Isn’t love a two-way street? What, is her life worth more? Way to be a fucking selfish bitch!
3) When she, as an old lady, throws the necklace into the water, I keep thinking ‘Um…why?’ What’s the logic there? What purpose does throwing away the necklace serve? She’s held onto it all her life so clearly she doesn’t need to let go of her past NOW. And it’s not like the necklace meant anything to Jack, so returning it to the water, aka His Grave, means nothing either (a moot theory if you will). Nor did it belong to the ship – so metaphorically returning it to the ship doesn’t make any sense either.
4) And finally, the crew on the Titanic expedition – the group that took her in, were nothing but nice to her, listened to her long-ass story, and who were (I imagine) spending a lot of money looking for that necklace – got repayed for their kindness by getting fucked over. Instead of handing over to them what they want (and she so clearly doesn’t), she just throws it away. Like a giant Fuck You to them. And she throws it into the ocean, pretty much guaranteeing that they’ll never find it. While never telling them! Final conclusion: What a bitch!

Yeah, that’s all I’ve got for today. Anything going on with you guys that you want to share? Until next week party people – don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…or would actually…

Weekend/New Year's Recap

2008-01-02T10:51:00.000-05:00

OK, we’re going to need to keep this quick because I’m running on about 3 hours sleep (don’t ask), my coffee STILL hasn’t kicked in, and I have a lot of work to do. So to recap:

I went out with Linda and her gay boyfriends on Friday (no seriously, she has like 4 close friends who are all gay lawyers). Anyway, at some point in the past year or so I’ve met and hung out with all of them, and according to Linda they all love me and insisted I be invited for their Holiday Night Out (believe it or not I make a great first impression – I know, it always adds to the disappointment once people actually get to know me). Long story short I got blasted (as did everyone else), and…let’s see, what else…

Well, we started out drinking cocktails at Linda’s around 6 (those of us who had worked last week needed pre-dinner refreshment), then at around 8 we wandered out for dinner; somehow the six of us polished off 4 bottles of wine during the course of the meal. After that we wandered down the block to a neighborhood bar for more liver destruction. Now, at this point in the night things get fuzzy – I do know we ended up at a karaoke bar (briefly) and that I sang To Be With You by Mr. Big (the fact that I chose that song cracks me up, but the fact that I sang at all proves that I was VERY drunk), and I do know that I allowed the Gay Boyfriends to psychoanalyze me – the verdict:

With the help of Linda (who’s known me forever), it was deduced that I don’t have successful relationships because I’m afraid of being hurt (no shit Sherlock, who isn’t?). It also seems that in the instances where I do care (ie. family, a VERY SMALL group of friends) I ‘love hard’ (whatever the fuck that means). Therefore I need to ‘grow a pair’ and allow myself to be vulnerable. I say this is all bullshit, but I will admit to being more than a little impressed that they came up with this after a good six hours of nonstop drinking.

After the psychoanalysis we decided to lighten things up by heading over to a gay bar so the boys could ‘get their flirt on’ (no, seriously, they said that). Once there I have been informed that I was the life of the party, and that I danced with no less than 8 men and 3 women. (It would appear that I also convinced one of the Gay Boyfriends to break up with his actual boyfriend over the phone – I stand by this even now because the dude was cheating and deserved to get dumped by cell phone at 2am. Still…)

Anyway, I finally made it home around 3:30am, but this was not before I gave into the urge to walk through midtown Manhattan at 3 in the morning in the rain. I got fucking soaked, but this is actually one of the few parts of the evening that I remember clearly – it was one of those great NY moments where the city was kind of quiet yet still very much awake, the night was so dark that the lights looked like little stars, there was just a little bit of mist around to add to the ambiance, and things just seemed…quiet and peaceful – well as quiet and peaceful as midtown Manhattan gets anyway. OK, I’m not really explaining this well, but suffice it to say I had a nice walk home in the pouring rain.

Thanks to that little late-night stroll in the rain, I woke up the next morning with my hair looking…interesting. That seemed like as good a reason as any to spend most of the day being lazy and doing nothing but reading and eating leftover Christmas cookies. Sunday was more of the same – I’m dodging John’s calls at the moment (hey, according to you guys I'm the ‘Babe Ruth of avoidance’). And Monday basically involved spending hours with my nephews (they honestly COULD NOT be any cuter) and going out for New Year’s.

A quick thought on New Year’s Eve: There’s too much pressure on New Year’s. I’m never going to have as much fun as I feel like I should, I have to pay at least $100 to get into a bar (and contrary to popular belief, I cannot drink $100 worth of booze and don’t really enjoy feeling like I should try), and I find that most private party’s in people’s apartments are…cramped to say the least (NYC apartments are just not designed to be able to handle large crowds). I’d rather just stay home with some Chinese food.

Having said all of that, I did go to a house/apartment party. It was actually very chill and relaxed (which I enjoyed), I drank mainly scotch and champagne (don’t do it – I did not feel awesome when I woke up yesterday), and I ended up leaving around 1. All in all, it was uneventful and…fine.

As for New Year’s resolutions – I don’t do New Year’s resolutions. What about you guys? Did you do anything fun? Do you have any resolutions you want to share? Fuck I’m tired.

Ah Sh*t

2007-12-27T09:15:00.000-05:00

I blame my sister’s boyfriend. Call it a copout on my part if you want, but I’m still blaming him. Why? Well, the Dickhead came and spent Christmas with us (my mom didn’t tell me until I got off the train in Jersey – I think she knew I wouldn’t have come home if I’d been told earlier). Anyway I was stuck in my parents’ house with this dude for the holidays. And apparently I needed to be polite or something (you know, because I love my sister). Which I was (I can pretend if I have to – shut up, I can), because I’m awesome. Anyway, this ended up being very trying for me (as you can imagine), and as it turns out (apparently) stress makes me stupid.

Oh, and drunk. Stress prompts me to get drunk. (Who am I to argue with nature?)

Uh, just so you know that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Because…well…ah shit. There’s just no good way to say this. Um…fuck it. Here goes:

John and I didn’t end up going to see Juno (as previously mentioned, I was in need of alcohol after dealing with the Dickhead); we went to a bar instead. Where I drank. And drank. And drank. (And of course – this should come as no surprise to those of you who know me around here – I complained.)

Quick sidenote: Yet another reason why New York is the best city anywhere – practically no one drives. And there are a ton of bars here. See how that works out well? Because you know what doesn’t go together? Yeah, drinking and driving. And you know what you have to do in most other places when you want to go out to a bar and drink? Exactly, you need to drive there (and, coincidentally, home). This is both a rant (where’s the logic there?) and an explanation of the situation – ie. I wasn’t driving so I got drunk, John was driving so he didn’t. He was sober. Is everyone following me so far?

Yeah, who wants to guess what happened?

Yup. Just…yup.

We ended up making out OUTSIDE up against his car. (Yes, that would be PDA people – I claim the drunk excuse and DON’T want to discuss it.)

Now that I’m sober and FAR away from Dickhead, I’m feeling more than a little freaked out by the whole John thing. I have no idea how to deal with it (besides avoidance, I’m awesome at avoidance). Thoughts? Suggestions?

You know, I think I already know what my New Year’s wish next week is going to be: In 2008, I’d love to end the year with the same number of friends as I started it with (this whittling down I’ve been doing isn’t a positive thing).

Anyway, how was everyone else’s holiday? Good? Any stories you want to share (that don’t include groping your best friend in a parking lot)?

Happy Holidays!

2007-12-21T09:43:00.001-05:00

Hmmm, so it’s occurred to me that I should write a little something today before we all drop off the face of the earth for the next week or so (am I the ONLY person who’s planning on working next week?). Anyway, ummm, let’s try to keep this post controversy free okay (something I apparently suck at)? Good intentions everyone!

On my wish list for the holiday season:

Some sleeping late;
Some heavy drinking;
Copious eating of food made primarily of butter;
Relaxing cuddle time with my parents’ dog;
Relaxing cuddle time with my cat (not in the same room as the dog because…well, my cat has the disposition of her mother. In other words: She can get ornery – in her case this translates into tormenting the dog…to be clear, I don’t torment the dog; even I’m not that horrible);
Some bonding time with my sister (who, sadly, is back together with her boyfriend)…yeah;
Some bonding time with my parents;
Getting a handle on the No Presents for Anyone Yet thing BEFORE Christmas day and WITHOUT too much stress (ed. note: This is a pipe dream);
Catching up with some friends back home in the 2 days I’m going to be there (ed. note: This probably won’t happen either, but I can hope);
Going to see the movie Juno with John – we hadn’t spoken in a while and just caught up on the phone like a week ago – I’m excited to see both him and the film;
More heavy drinking;
Having a few days in the office without meetings next week – score!;
Baking – I’ve been jonesing to get my Martha Stewart on, and the huge kitchen at my parents’ house is the perfect place to do it. (Vote: Are we thinking the classic sugar cookie or something else?);
Receiving my annual present of a Yankee Ticket Plan from my siblings (since I don’t get the actual tickets for another couple of months, I always get a really poorly written poem from my sister on Christmas morning – so I have something to open. I can’t wait, it’s always a REALLY bad poem!);
Receiving my annual Starbucks gift card in my stocking – coffee is NEVER a bad present;
Seeing the looks on my family members’ faces when they open the gifts I gave them…assuming I ever get off my lazy ass and actually get them something. Fuck!;
Trying on my skinny jeans next weekend and realizing they’re REALLY fucking tight and that I need to cut back on the eating of pure crap…wait, this a wish list, so…um…NOT trying on my skinny jeans next weekend and realizing…;
Yet more heavy drinking;
Just seeing everyone that I love and assuring myself that they’re healthy and happy.

What is everyone else looking forward to/wishing for? No really, I want to hear. I care. I do. Ummm…promise.

Happy holidays everyone!

A Little of This, A Little of That

2007-12-19T12:36:00.000-05:00

I kind of want to start out by saying that I am not nearly as cranky/angry as I’ve been sounding lately. Honestly.

Good, now that that's out of the way...

-Hmmm, Britney Spears’ 16-year-old sister is pregnant. Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked I tell you! I mean sure, this kid grew up in the Spears family (great parenting at work there), and, according to Perez Hilton, was living with her boyfriend at the tender age of 16, but still, how could ANYONE see this coming?! I just don’t understand HOW this could have happened!

-File this one under too much information: Have you ever thought your period was over – you know, because you stopped bleeding for over a 24 hour period of time – and then…surprise! It’s not. And you’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of panties AND jeans. Hmmm? Oh…right, most of my readers are male. Ummm…sorry about that.

-So I’m going brunette – yes, I know I’ve said this kind of shit before, but this time I mean it. I spoke to a colorist at my salon yesterday and have an appointment for Saturday. I’m thinking a nice, chocolate brown color; kind of wintry, should set off my pale skin well, and best of all it will be DIFFERENT. I need a change. Don’t worry though – you can still call me Redhead.

-A minor ripping on a blogger that I will not name (I’m going to try to avoid upsetting anyone in particular today – I’m finding some people are REALLY sensitive when I openly disagree with them…it might have something to do with my charming personality): So there’s this blog I used to read (off and on) until recently. Why did I stop reading you ask? Well, that one’s pretty easy to answer – it’s because of the writer. He’s…well, he’s pretty much a pussy. And it was pissing me off. A lot.

Let me explain… So about a week ago I’m reading this dude’s latest post – which was almost exactly like ALL of his posts – when it hit me. I can’t stand this guy! All he writes about is his ex-girlfriend. Someone he broke up with like a year ago! Dude, get over it. I understand that she was the love of your life. I understand that you two dated for a really long time. I understand that you’re a sensitive guy. But still…SHUT UP!

There has to be a cut-off point where you’re simply not allowed to talk about your ex anymore. Sure, if they come up in conversation or you have a pertinent story about them (like with anyone else) go ahead, I’m not going to begrudge you that. But otherwise…STOP IT! No one else cares, it makes you look pathetic, and it’s annoying as all hell! Let it go. I dated a guy for 4 years, we broke up, I talked about him afterwards (he was a large part of my life for a long time), but then I stopped. Because I saw the looks on other people’s faces when I mentioned him. And I felt like an asshole for bringing him up so much.

That was roughly 4 months after the breakup.

So, Random Blogger that I Will Not Name, give it up. Complete strangers on the Internet think you’re sad, I can’t imagine what your friends are going through (and no matter what they’re telling you, they want/need you to let it go). Thanks (and yes, I know I’m a bitch).

-The only people that I have Christmas gifts for are my nephews – I’m so fucked. Does anyone have any ideas? I can probably handle my mom and sister, but my dad and brother/sister-in-law (those two get a joint gift) are killing me. Please help.

-I’ve had a runny nose for like 5 days now, and when I cough little globs of phlegm come up. Should I be concerned?

-So what do you guys think of Tony Parker and Eva Longoria? I say he cheated. You?

-If you were going to name your pet after a Greek God, which one would it be and why?

Yup, I think that’s enough – the cold seems to have mellowed out a bit in NY today, so I’m running out for some soup and a hot chocolate. Happy Wednesday everyone!

Thoughts on Theater and…Stuff

2007-12-17T09:43:00.001-05:00

So my weekend didn’t get off to the most auspicious start – “Hi Redhead, I just wanted to call and tell you that your mother’s in the hospital…no, no, everything’s fine…no, no, don’t come home.” Yeah, I don’t actually want to get too into it, but let me just say that is not how I EVER want to begin a conversation.

Anyway, after that the rest of the weekend was a blur – thanks to the cold from hell and some fairly interesting over the counter drugs – but I will say that spending three days with a low-grade headache totally SUCKS. Hmmm, what else?

Oh yeah, so I went to the theater yesterday – saw Spring Awakening. Some thoughts: The music was pretty good, the acting was pretty bad, the script was terrible (it was like one long conversation where all you could think was ‘Too Much Information! Too Much Information!’) and…holy shit! This show won the Tony? Seriously? But…how? Why?

I seriously turned to my friend during intermission and said, ‘So, are there any issues that they HAVEN’T touched on yet?’ (I’m not kidding, this show was like a Lifetime movie…on crack.) My friend’s response, ‘I don’t think so…ooh, wait – they haven’t dealt with homosexuality!’

Then the second act started. Homosexuality – check.

(I would actually like to take this opportunity to thank the bar that my friend and I stopped at before the show – those two bloody mary’s totally made that whiny mess of a play marginally bearable.)

As for the graphic nature of the show…eh. The masturbation song was kind of funny, the guy/girl sex wasn’t as hot as I had hoped (although the guy had a pretty nice ass), and the guy-on-guy action…well, that was probably the highlight of the show, but man…those characters would NOT shut UP.

Alright, back to my Zicam, Cold-Eeze, and DayQuil – I’m assuming everyone else’s weekend was cool. No, no, seriously – don’t tell me if it wasn’t; I’m done listening to other people’s problems (that play filled my quota for the week). Thanks though.

Ughhhhh

2007-12-14T09:33:00.000-05:00

Well…I just don’t have it in me today guys. Sorry. I know you all deserve a mildly offensive post from me (that some of you will blow WAY out of proportion – just teasing guys…love you…put down the pitchforks!) to end the week, but I just can’t do it today. I’m sick (my head feels like it weighs about 300 pounds, my nose is leaking, my eyes are watering, and I look…hideous), I’m tired (I barely made it to my 2nd office party of the week last night – seriously, I didn’t get there until 8 and NO ONE noticed or cared; damn I’m popular), my coffee leaked ALL OVER ME this morning (damn Starbucks lids), and I have a meeting in about 5 minutes with someone who always sends me really effusive emails…I don’t know what that signifies, but I’m pretty sure I don’t have the energy for it right now.

So…unless someone comes up with an idea for a post that I can write in between meetings today, have a good weekend – I’m going to see a play on Sunday where apparently people have sex and masturbate onstage. Woo hoo!

A Quick Comment

2007-12-13T15:30:00.001-05:00

A thought on the Mitchell report: My main observation after a quick scan of the Mitchell report – besides a sort of overwhelming feeling of disappointment (but not surprise) concerning some Yankees players – was that there really isn’t one current Red Sox player in there.

Mitchell was (and will be again) director of the front office for the Boston Red Sox. As The Big Lead said, ‘that’s not really a question, more of a statement.’

I Must NOT Get Drunk

2007-12-12T11:02:00.000-05:00

Hey, so it’s my company Holiday Party tonight – actually tonight’s party is just for executives, tomorrow there’s another party for everyone (agh, so much alcohol, so little time!) – anyway, tomorrow’s party is neither here nor there, my point is tonight’s party is making me a little worried. Because people have been telling me stories, of past parties, and the behavior that has come out of them, and the alcohol that flows, and…I think I may be in trouble. Let’s dissect this, shall we?

My last company’s Holiday Party – held AT THE OFFICE, shitty open bar, hors d'oeuvres set up on a few tables, started around 5 (in other words, everyone just wore work clothes), went on for a couple hours, home by 8:30.

My new company’s Holiday Party – held at a hotel uptown (in the Penthouse), apparently first rate bar, this one starts around 7 (everyone who goes changes into cocktail dresses/nice suits – I have my Audrey Hepburn style little black dress ready to go), has a cocktail hour until 8, speeches until 9, and dinner and ‘celebration’ until midnight.

According to my coworkers, things get a little wild at this shindig. I am to expect 1) not to get home until around 2 or 3 in the morning (apparently), 2) to get VERY drunk, 3) to be much amused by whatever theme the party planners have chosen this year, and 4) to see and/or hear many things that will ultimately end up in the pantheon of great/embarrassing company Holiday Party stories (stories that will promptly be relayed to EVERYONE at TOMORROW’S party).

I cannot end up being one of those stories.

So, my game plan is…shit, I have no game plan. Obviously I will try not to overindulge, but it will be hard since everyone else apparently will be (much like at the holiday lunch last week, where I got…well, kind of drunk; but not embarrassingly so).

Do you guys realize that I’m going to be all dressed up, at an open bar, surrounded by my coworkers (all of whom are talking about how drunk they’re planning to get), with the owners of my company nearby (pretty conservative guys), and…

No biggie. I can avoid embarrassment. I know I can. It’s not hard – people do it every day. I just need to pace myself. And eat something first. And not see any men who look good to me. And relax and be charming. And professional. But still fun. And well-spoken. So no slurred speech.

Fuck, I’m so screwed guys.

Houston, We Have a Problem

2007-12-11T10:35:00.000-05:00

Hypothetical question: Are there some things that you simply can’t say, even to your best friend? Can one conversation effectively end a decade-long friendship? I’m not talking about a romantic relationship here (obviously one conversation can end those), I’m talking a close friendship.

Oh, and how much time should you allow yourself (assuming you’re the angry party) to cool off before making this decision? Ummm...that's it.

Super Quick Recap

2007-12-10T10:45:00.001-05:00

OK, I don’t have the time to give you the long version of my singles party experience, so instead you’re going to get the super short, not even remotely grammatically correct version. Andddd…go:

Went to the party with Christine (who was in a surprisingly good mood – it may have been because both of us were fairly drunk before we got there), and we were pleasantly surprised to find that it was being held in a pretty nice bar actually. As for the men though, they were…eh.

However we persevered, chatting up some boys when the occasion called for it – still, I’ll admit we mostly chilled with each other (what can I say – I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend anyway!). Still, I got my act together fast when I spotted the HOTTIE. (Seriously, this guy was/is so good looking that he deserves all caps.)

Anyway, Christine gave me a shove, I kind of fell into him (great opening, huh?), and we started talking. And it went well – he was charming, and GORGEOUS, and funny, and BEAUTIFUL (I’m sorry, I know I’m practically drooling on you guys as I tell this story, but he really was so impressive it was shocking), and everything was going great. In other words, something really bad was going to have to happen for this guy not to end up getting my number.

Enter: Something bad.

So about 45 minutes into our conversation, one of Stud Guy’s (very drunk) friends comes up to us…and drops a bombshell. It went a little something like this – ‘Hey, why are you talking to him? He shouldn’t even technically be here since he has a girlfriend…oh wait, she’s out of town this weekend. Carry on!’ And with that Drunk Friend walked away.

Christine, who had been chatting with a guy nearby, almost collapsed she was laughing so hard (good friend), Stud Guy, well, he just looked embarrassed, and I…hmmm, I’m pretty sure I didn’t look happy (but I did finish the drink he’d bought me – waste not, want not).

Pretty soon thereafter Christine and I left – in hindsight, I should have spent more time chatting up the cutie at the bar from the beginning of the party. But…I’m a moron.

So that’s my story – boring, disappointing, annoying, blah, blah, blah. Still, let’s have a quick recap of my thoughts: Congratulations Stud Guy! Rarely can men still surprise me, but every once in a while it does happen; your coming to a singles party while your girlfriend was out of town (and trying to pick me up) – that took even me by surprise. Not only did I not see that coming, but I’m willing to bet that your girlfriend didn’t see that coming either. Just…the height of sleaze. Good looking sleaze, but still…sleaze.

How was everyone else’s weekend?

I Hate Coming Up with Titles

2007-12-06T20:53:00.000-05:00

A little bit of randomness:

-I’ve had a looonnngggg day. A quick overview:

9am: Sit down at my desk with coffee, begin to go through my emails.

9:30am: Not finished with my emails, but I need to go to a meeting.

10:30am: End my first meeting, andddd…go into another one.

11:30am: End THAT meeting, andddd…go into another one.

12:30pm: Ah, a break – go back to my desk to check emails and listen to my voicemails. Agh, wait…I REALLY have to pee.

1pm: Shit, I have another meeting.

3:05pm: Longest…meeting…ever. Still, now I can…fuck, I’m late for a meeting.

4:30pm: Please let that be it, I can’t take one more…what’s that, Boss? You want to recap my day? Sure, why the fuck not? It’s not like I’m STARVING or anything.

5:15pm: Alright, NOW I can finally finish checking my emails from yesterday.

7pm: Ahhh, blessed alcohol.

-Went to the theater last night and had a really good time (I actually like theater – assuming the show I’m seeing doesn’t suck – but I never seem to find the time to go; still, somehow - thanks to a weird confluence of events - I’m going to like 4 shows in the next three weeks). Anyway, none of that was pertinent in any way, but…wait, where was I? Oh yeah, went to the theater last night for a ‘friend’s’ office Christmas thing (tis the season). They had a whole cocktail hour (wait, two actually) at a bar beforehand – and open bars are always appreciated – and then we all went out for some culture. Thumbs up to a solid night out.

-Not sure why, but Claire Danes came up twice yesterday (how random is that?). Boy do women hate her – the vitriol that was flying was amazing. My thoughts: She’s a fine actress, but when you date a man who has a girlfriend at home who's 8 months pregnant, you’re pretty much asking for everything bad thing in the world to happen to you. Or, at the very least, you’re going to be called the c-word (I didn’t say it mind you, but…yeah, I thought it).

-It’s fucking FREEZING in NY right now. I need to locate my hat and gloves ASAP, because the coat alone isn’t cutting it anymore.

-The Princess Bride is on tv right now – easily one of the top 5 movies of all time – this movie taps into my sense of humor in a way that very few things do. Therefore, the top quotes (for me at least) are going to be forced upon you below - you know, I can recite the entire movie by heart…hmmm, I wonder if those brain cells could have been put to better use? Nah:

Vizzini: When I found you, you were so slobbering drunk you couldn’t buy brandy!

Vizzini: Do you want me to send you back to where you were? Unemployed, in Greenland?

Vizzini: He didn’t fall? Inconceivable.
Inigo: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it!
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?

Inigo: I do not mean to pry, but you don’t by any chance happen to have six fingers on your right hand?
Westley: Do you always begin conversations this way?

Vizzini: I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brains.
Westley: You’re that smart?
Vizzini: Let me put it this way, have you ever heard of Plato, Aristotle, Socrates?
Westley: Yes.
Vizzini: Morons.

Buttercup: We’ll never survive.
Westley: Nonsense, you’re only saying that because no one ever has.

Humperdink: Surrender!
Westley: You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept.

Westley: What are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where’s Buttercup?
Inigo: Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

King: What was that for?
Buttercup: Because you have always been so kind to me, and I won’t be seeing you again since I’m killing myself once we reach the honeymoon suite.
King: Won’t that be nice. She kissed me!

(and the great one)

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

OK, I’m going to stop torturing you guys now – sorry about the deluge of quotes but I fucking love that movie. Obviously I only really on touched on the best here (if you want to add any, feel free), but in the interest of time I’ll finish up by simply saying this: See The Princess Bride again, it’s that good (I refuse to believe there’s anyone out there who has NEVER seen this movie).

Have a great weekend everyone!

Just Because I’m a Pain in the A*s

2007-12-05T09:31:00.001-05:00

So I’m going to another singles party on Friday night, and before you ask:

1) Yes, I’m still on my ‘I’m not dating’ kick right now;

2) No, I don’t want to go;

3) The reason I’m going is because my sister-in-law sent me the invite (her friends are organizing it), and I’m pretty sure my mother put her up to it (and will know if I don’t go);

4) Yes, I’m huge wimp and will torture myself for a night in order to avoid being badgered by my mother (shut up);

5) I’m figuring it won’t be too painful when all is said and done because a) I already have plans for earlier on Friday night so…well, I’ll already be out, and b) my earlier plans involve drinking, so I imagine by the time I make it to the singles party I’ll be pretty buzzed (which, let’s be honest, can make most things tolerable).

Anyway, in the spirit of trying to make peace for yesterday (or, possibly, me just having nothing else to write about today), I figured you guys could help me come up with a point system for all the men I meet on Friday. You give me the guidelines – things they can say or do that will give/take away points – and (assuming the ideas aren’t complete crap), I’ll promise to follow them. That means that if I meet a guy who reaches a predetermined number of points, whether I personally like him or not, I will promise to go out with him in the future. On at least one date.

So there you have it dear readers, I am actually giving you some modicum of control over my life (and I may just end up regretting it). Anyway, have at it. I only have about 4 meetings today (thank God), and then I’m going to the theater tonight (yay, cocktails and theater!), so I will be checking in intermittently to see/comment on your suggestions.

Short Thoughts – I Have A Long Day Ahead of Me

2007-12-04T09:53:00.000-05:00

(Note before I begin: I’m a little cranky today – don’t know why. You might detect some of this surliness in my writing. Live with it.)

So I had some time to kill yesterday, and I ended up at a blog that I’d never read before. However, as it turned out, the actual post I ended up reading was written by Yes, I’ll Have Another (who comments here from time to time). Anyway, I read what he wrote. And I had some thoughts – some strong thoughts. Unfortunately (or fortunately considering my mood), I have like 12 meetings today, so I don’t really have time to tear him limb from limb over his presumptuous and annoying Male Point System (or whatever the hell that post was).

Still, let me cover three main points before I run off to my first meeting of the day (why is this asshole 20 minutes early? It’s rude to show up late for a meeting AND it’s rude to show up obscenely early! Don’t these people know anything!). Deep breaths…okay:

1) Any man who truly believes that the woman he’s with is trying to score ‘points’ with him is delusional – it’s the other way around bucko (it’s your job to impress her). Having said that, if you want to date a chick who will embarrass herself to get another date with you, be my guest (just don’t mind the fact that everyone you know will be laughing at you two behind your back). So if it makes you feel cooler to judge a chick by the drinks she orders or whether she’s willing to go down on you while you’re drinking a beer, all the more power to you. But if I ever date a guy who I think for one minute is tallying up every little thing I do, well…let’s just say that’s not the guy who will ever be earning (or deserving of) the much talked about and sought after Impromptu Blow Job.

2) For every guy out there who is psyched when his girl buys him a lapdance – good luck. You just keep telling yourself she’s a keeper (I’m sure she’s trying to convince herself the same thing about you).

3) '+1,000 for every dinner she cooks that actually tastes delicious'? Gentlemen (and ladies), if you’re with someone who actually put the effort into making you a meal, THAT’S worth 1,000 points. I’ve choked down a lot of crappy home cooked meals in my time, and I appreciated EVERY SINGLE ONE. So get off your fucking high horse, if you want a great homemade meal, make it yourself. (I’m assuming if you’re going to pass judgment on someone else’s cooking you must be able to do better – right?)

Oh, and I’m not even touching the points for anal. What is with all the jackasses out there today? Who ever told men that women just want to settle down – and that any guy will do? And how did this false impression of women as desperate translate into every man suddenly thinking that HE was the answer to our prayers? What the fucking hell?

Alright, I’m done venting for the day. Thoughts? Anyone?

I Hate Harry

2007-12-02T19:10:00.001-05:00

Harry, you son of a bitch, I can’t believe you tagged me! What is this, the second time in two weeks that this has happened to me? People!!! I have a life here (shut up – I do). Well, since I think I may have been the one to tag Harry last time, I’m going to be nice and let him off with a warning.

OK, here are the rules:

1) Put you iTunes/music player on Shuffle.
Redhead note: I don’t even think I know how to do that, hang on…
2) For each question, press the next button to get the answer.
Redhead note: This is sounding more and more like a bad game of Mad Libs - shit.
3) YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT (this is in capital letters, so it is very serious. No hiding you showtunes folks!)
Redhead note: OKAY!

After you’ve answered all of the questions, tap 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do the meme themselves!
Redhead note: Fat chance! (I’m ending this right here – no more contributing to the madness.)

And away we go…

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY? Baba O’Riley – The Who
2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover – Simon & Garfunkel (ed. note: Ha!)
3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Caress Me Down – Sublime (ed note: This is actually kind of funny.)
4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY? Sabotage – Beastie Boys
5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE? Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd
6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Three Is a Magic Number – Blind Melon
7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Livin’ on a Prayer – Bon Jovi
8) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS? Here I Go Again -- Whitesnake
9) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? Cocaine – Eric Clapton (ed. note: Ummm...)
10) WHAT IS 2+2? Epic – Faith No More
11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? She Hates Me – Puddle of Mudd
12) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Fuel – Metallica
13) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? The Joker – Steve Miller Band
14) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Low Rider – War
15) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Where Did You Sleep Last Night? – Nirvana
16) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? Wild World – Cat Stevens
17) WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Let’s Get it On – Marvin Gaye (ed note: a) God I hope not, and b) how weird are some of these answers?)
18) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Smoke on the Water – Deep Purple
19) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? Magic Carpet Ride – Steppenwolf
20) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Who’ll Stop the Rain – Creedence Clearwater Revival
21) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Push It – Salt-N-Pepa

Hmmm, actually, some of those answers totally made sense. Strange. Some really didn’t though (I swear!). OK, I’m not passing this on to anyone, but if any of you guys wants to give this a shot, throw your versions up wherever and feel free to link to them here.

Question

2007-11-30T08:59:00.000-05:00

This isn't a real post, it's a request for ideas. So okay, here's the deal - I'm having a bunch of friends over on Sunday (all female) for a little bonding time. Rarely do we all find the time to get together, so the fact that we've carved out a whole afternoon where EVERYONE can make it is...unprecedented (at least recently).

Anyway, instead of going to a bar (where we spend more time talking to random men than each other), or brunch (it'll be too late in the day for that), I've invited everyone over to my apartment for Football Sunday - Ladies Style. What does that mean? Well it means that other than me no one cares about football (so the games alone aren't going to be enough), but that my friends are good enough sports to believe I will somehow end up making this worth their while (pressure = me). Don't worry though, I have a solution - obviously there will be plenty of booze there (I'm throwing the get-together after all) and I will be providing plenty of yummy snacks (with no nutritional value whatsoever). However, I think we need more. Sooo...

I've decided to up the cheese factor. This means that I will be playing all the totally great, but equally ridiculous, sports-related music I can find throughout the afternoon. Sounds easy enough - I already have Eye of the Tiger, Another One Bites the Dust, We are the Champions (how did sports even exist before Queen?), and Rock You Like a Hurricane already on my iPod. But I need more - that's only 4 songs. So that's where you guys come in. I want totally cliche, overused music that will get my friends in the mood to watch some football (while bonding). Think you can help? Prove it.