So I got an email from my friend Linda yesterday – you may remember her from here. And as I read through it I realized that we hadn’t spoken in a couple of months. No big deal – it was more of an observation than anything else. (Hmmm, maybe I should explain that a bit more…)
OK, here’s the thing – I can easily go months without talking to a friend. How is that possible, you ask? Well, the easy answer is I’m lazy and like to be left alone; if my friends don’t call me I won’t call them. (Yes, I suck.) But, since my friends all know this, it’s not an issue. They DO call me. (I lost track of the ones who didn’t long ago.)
But sometimes shit happens, and I won’t hear from someone for a long period of time. This can happen for many reasons, but the top ones are: 1) Work’s crazy, 2) They were on vacation and when they got back they had shit to do, or 3) They found themselves a boyfriend.
Let me be clear: I am not implying that my friends are the type to drop off the face of the earth when they find a man – I don’t hang with those chicks. But when they’re the ones who have to make all the effort to keep in touch (again, I suck), I tend to become the person who slips through the cracks. And I’m cool with that. OK? OK, now back to my story.
So my email dings yesterday, and it’s Linda. She wants to hang out, she just got back from vacation (aha!), AND she has a new boyfriend. “Ooh” I replied, “Who is he? How’d you meet him?”
“It’s Charlie,” she wrote back. And I thought…OH FUCK!
Here’s the problem with Linda dating Charlie – Charlie has been Linda’s friend for a while, I’ve met him on multiple occasions, he’s a total tool, and he once asked me out and I laughed in his face.
Yeah, you read that right. I quite literally…laughed…in…his…face.
Yup.
You see what happened was we were all out at a bar a few months ago, and Charlie had cornered me into a conversation. Charlie is socially awkward and just plain annoying, so don’t even think about blaming me for deciding to start drinking. And for continuing to drink. Anyway, by the time he asked me out (shocking the shit out of me), I was pretty well buzzed. So I…laughed in his face. And umm…said no. And walked away…
The thing is, Charlie is both self-righteous and completely lacking in a sense of humor (not that I expected him to find his asking me out as funny as I did). He’s also tall, kind of fat, not at all attractive, and slightly balding. I am not only NOT attracted to him physically, but I think he’s a total jackass. So I laughed.
Still, he’s Linda’s friend, so…yeah, I should have handled it better.
Only now Linda’s dating him. And while I never told her what happened at the bar that night (why would I sell myself out?), and I doubt he did either (you don’t tell a girl you’re dating that you once hit on her friend), this could still get sticky. Because I don’t want to hang out with them, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hang out with me, and neither of us can tell Linda why.
So what I’m thinking will happen is Linda will insist we all go out, he’ll act weird (because he’s the complete opposite of cool), and Linda will get suspicious.
Then Linda will freak out. Because here’s the thing – Linda and I have known each other for a while. And she has some issues with me. She’s…not entirely comfortable letting guys she likes near me. Long story short, it started in high school when the guy she was in love with told her he had a crush on me. The fact that I wasn’t interested didn’t matter, and Linda ended up not speaking to me for MONTHS (even though I had never done anything wrong!).
Now Linda has another boyfriend – one who (at least a few months ago) was interested in me. And if Linda finds out what happened – not just that he asked me out but also how rude I was to him (oops) – I’m…uh…fucked I guess is the word.
So…any suggestions people? You know me – I don’t do subtlety and “nice stuff” well so I am fully capable of making this whole thing worse. Oh, and don’t tell me she’s overreacting (or will be) if she gets mad – while that’s true and I totally agree (I hate drama), this is one of my best friends here. So be good.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Just...Wow
My blog has reached an all time low - according to sitemeter, if you google "I licked her mom's old pussy" my little, INNOCENT blog comes up. To this I say 1) EWWWWW, and 2) What...the...fuck?!
Anyway, as a Tuesday present to you (my lovely readers who DON'T google weird ass shit like the above - I hope), I'm going to share some pictures that were emailed to me yesterday. This, my friends, is proof that God/Mother Nature/whatever has a kick ass sense of humor. Enjoy.
Update: Unbefuckinglievable. New google search that will bring you to my blog: Fucking my redhead sister-in-law.
I...have no words.
Anyway, as a Tuesday present to you (my lovely readers who DON'T google weird ass shit like the above - I hope), I'm going to share some pictures that were emailed to me yesterday. This, my friends, is proof that God/Mother Nature/whatever has a kick ass sense of humor. Enjoy.
Update: Unbefuckinglievable. New google search that will bring you to my blog: Fucking my redhead sister-in-law.
I...have no words.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Redhead’s Fat Ass
I’m…so…tired. Can’t…think…very…hard. So forgive me if this makes no sense. To recap my weekend:
My grandmother is in town visiting, and she is staying with my parents. Translation: My mother is going to kill someone soon – hopefully NOT my grandmother (my father’s mother – for those of you who hadn’t guessed already). My job was to run interference over the weekend – this basically meant I spent the weekend with my parents and let them feed me.
Saturday night involved meeting up with mom and dad, my grandmother, brother, and sister-in-law for dinner in Manhattan. It was decadent and wonderful, the company was lovely, and I got drunkety drunk drunk. (Seriously, I woke up at 3am with the whirlies.)
Note: I enjoy getting dressed up and going to a REALLY nice restaurant more than most people, but spending more than $1,000 on one meal does seem a bit excessive to me. Not excessive enough to stop me from thoroughly enjoying it, but…I wish I made more money. Guess I’ll just have to marry well (or keep mooching off my parents).
Anyway, back to the story. So on Sunday my parents were having a barbeque at their house; my brother and sister-in-law were bringing out my nephews to swim in the pool, and a bunch of other people were going to be there. Just to torture me, my father made his ribs (my all-time FAVORITE food). He also made Johnsonville brats. Fuck – being a vegetarian sucks.
But I stuck to my guns, explained why I was staring at everyone like I wanted to kill – simply because they were eating what I wanted to be eating – and endured the endless feedback/opinions/blatant mocking of those present. Some comments on my new vegetarian kick:
My sister-in-law: (Note: She’s fucking awesome, but she doesn’t pull any punches) “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard – you’re too old to be going through a phase like this. I would have accepted this right after you finished college, but not now. Cut it out.”
My mother’s friend: (Note: She is blunt to the point of scaring people – not surprisingly, we get along really well when we’re not at each other’s throat) “Men won’t want to date you if you’re a vegetarian, Redhead. They like a woman who will go out and order a steak, NOT a salad. So get over your guilt – I’m sick of waiting for you and your sister to get married.”
There were many other things said as well, that those were the most colorful. So…yup. Anyway, the real highlight of the day took place by the pool. Let me set the scene: My brother was in the pool with my nephew (the older one who’s going to turn 2 next month) – and they were having a great time playing and laughing. A group of us (yes, all women) were gathered around on lounge chairs watching them and chatting. (Shut up – they looked cute as hell.)
So, the lounge chairs my parents have by the pool are a nice light gray, and they’re made of a mesh type fabric – except for the frames, which are metal (duh). And we’ve had them for years. I was sitting on the end of one holding my other nephew (the younger one that you might remember from a few weeks back), and I was talking to my sister-in-law (who was enjoying a cocktail even though she was also hung over from the night before). And then…
I was on the ground. Holding a 7 MONTH OLD BABY up above my sprawled, prostrate, and (now) very bruised body. (Note: It was a miracle that when I went down, I didn’t mindlessly use him to break my fall – that would have put me on the all-time Bad Aunt list. But no (chest puffed out), instead I allowed myself to hit the ground HARD, without using my hands to break the fall at all, because I INNATELY chose to keep the child aloft and out of harm’s way. Yes, I am a rock star.)
Anyway there I was, flat on my back (kind of like a turtle – you may remember the position from this night), holding my nephew up and listening to the sounds of surprise as everyone gathered around us. And I was trying to process WHAT THE FUCK HAD JUST HAPPENED.
Oh, and my ass felt like I’d just broken it (fucking concrete around the pool). On the plus side, the baby wasn’t crying – he mainly just looked surprised – so for that…thank fucking God.
Anyway, once the baby was whisked away I chose to remain collapsed on the ground (I was taking a moment), and that’s when it finally hit me – I had fucking BROKEN a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture had been no match for the weight of my ass.
Hmmm…humbling. If I were a lesser person I might have taken that as a sign to immediately stop eating. Forever.
Thankfully, I am not that kind of chick. Plus, in my defense, 1) I’m not fat – I’m just not (broken furniture notwithstanding). So I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole thing (although I really do think I’ve fucked up my tailbone). In fact, I went inside almost immediately after the Lounge Chair Debacle of ’07 to tell everyone who’d missed it what had happened – boy were they bummed they hadn't been there. THEN I went into work the next day and wrote a blog post about it – I have no shame. 2) The mesh on the chair I had chosen was ripped along the frame on one side when I sat down – it was being held together by a couple inches of mesh that were still attached. My sitting on it precisely where I did (at it’s most vulnerable point) was really just a bad call on my part (and totally something I would do – way to pay attention Redhead). It was an accident waiting to happen if you will. I was merely a victim of circumstance. (Shut up.)
So…that was it. That was my weekend – kind of mellow actually. What about you guys? Anyone have any good stories for me?
My grandmother is in town visiting, and she is staying with my parents. Translation: My mother is going to kill someone soon – hopefully NOT my grandmother (my father’s mother – for those of you who hadn’t guessed already). My job was to run interference over the weekend – this basically meant I spent the weekend with my parents and let them feed me.
Saturday night involved meeting up with mom and dad, my grandmother, brother, and sister-in-law for dinner in Manhattan. It was decadent and wonderful, the company was lovely, and I got drunkety drunk drunk. (Seriously, I woke up at 3am with the whirlies.)
Note: I enjoy getting dressed up and going to a REALLY nice restaurant more than most people, but spending more than $1,000 on one meal does seem a bit excessive to me. Not excessive enough to stop me from thoroughly enjoying it, but…I wish I made more money. Guess I’ll just have to marry well (or keep mooching off my parents).
Anyway, back to the story. So on Sunday my parents were having a barbeque at their house; my brother and sister-in-law were bringing out my nephews to swim in the pool, and a bunch of other people were going to be there. Just to torture me, my father made his ribs (my all-time FAVORITE food). He also made Johnsonville brats. Fuck – being a vegetarian sucks.
But I stuck to my guns, explained why I was staring at everyone like I wanted to kill – simply because they were eating what I wanted to be eating – and endured the endless feedback/opinions/blatant mocking of those present. Some comments on my new vegetarian kick:
My sister-in-law: (Note: She’s fucking awesome, but she doesn’t pull any punches) “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard – you’re too old to be going through a phase like this. I would have accepted this right after you finished college, but not now. Cut it out.”
My mother’s friend: (Note: She is blunt to the point of scaring people – not surprisingly, we get along really well when we’re not at each other’s throat) “Men won’t want to date you if you’re a vegetarian, Redhead. They like a woman who will go out and order a steak, NOT a salad. So get over your guilt – I’m sick of waiting for you and your sister to get married.”
There were many other things said as well, that those were the most colorful. So…yup. Anyway, the real highlight of the day took place by the pool. Let me set the scene: My brother was in the pool with my nephew (the older one who’s going to turn 2 next month) – and they were having a great time playing and laughing. A group of us (yes, all women) were gathered around on lounge chairs watching them and chatting. (Shut up – they looked cute as hell.)
So, the lounge chairs my parents have by the pool are a nice light gray, and they’re made of a mesh type fabric – except for the frames, which are metal (duh). And we’ve had them for years. I was sitting on the end of one holding my other nephew (the younger one that you might remember from a few weeks back), and I was talking to my sister-in-law (who was enjoying a cocktail even though she was also hung over from the night before). And then…
I was on the ground. Holding a 7 MONTH OLD BABY up above my sprawled, prostrate, and (now) very bruised body. (Note: It was a miracle that when I went down, I didn’t mindlessly use him to break my fall – that would have put me on the all-time Bad Aunt list. But no (chest puffed out), instead I allowed myself to hit the ground HARD, without using my hands to break the fall at all, because I INNATELY chose to keep the child aloft and out of harm’s way. Yes, I am a rock star.)
Anyway there I was, flat on my back (kind of like a turtle – you may remember the position from this night), holding my nephew up and listening to the sounds of surprise as everyone gathered around us. And I was trying to process WHAT THE FUCK HAD JUST HAPPENED.
Oh, and my ass felt like I’d just broken it (fucking concrete around the pool). On the plus side, the baby wasn’t crying – he mainly just looked surprised – so for that…thank fucking God.
Anyway, once the baby was whisked away I chose to remain collapsed on the ground (I was taking a moment), and that’s when it finally hit me – I had fucking BROKEN a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture had been no match for the weight of my ass.
Hmmm…humbling. If I were a lesser person I might have taken that as a sign to immediately stop eating. Forever.
Thankfully, I am not that kind of chick. Plus, in my defense, 1) I’m not fat – I’m just not (broken furniture notwithstanding). So I was able to keep my sense of humor about the whole thing (although I really do think I’ve fucked up my tailbone). In fact, I went inside almost immediately after the Lounge Chair Debacle of ’07 to tell everyone who’d missed it what had happened – boy were they bummed they hadn't been there. THEN I went into work the next day and wrote a blog post about it – I have no shame. 2) The mesh on the chair I had chosen was ripped along the frame on one side when I sat down – it was being held together by a couple inches of mesh that were still attached. My sitting on it precisely where I did (at it’s most vulnerable point) was really just a bad call on my part (and totally something I would do – way to pay attention Redhead). It was an accident waiting to happen if you will. I was merely a victim of circumstance. (Shut up.)
So…that was it. That was my weekend – kind of mellow actually. What about you guys? Anyone have any good stories for me?
Thursday, August 9, 2007
F*ck It
Let’s go through my week so far, shall we? Good:
-I am officially, totally, and completely broken up with NY Guy. I don’t want to go into the details or anything (even in my own mind), so all I’m going to do is give you a 3 word synopsis of the actual breakup. Ready? Good:
It was ugly.
-In a related story, I’m now off relationships – for at least a little while. What does that mean? Well, for one thing it means that Tattoo Guy is getting no more than three dates out of me (what – I’m not dead), and then he’s hitting the road. It also means that my mom is going to be pissed. But to me it means that I’m just going to relax and enjoy my singledom (is that a word?). I need some rest people, and honestly – except for the obvious physical benefits of being in a relationship – I much prefer being single. I am not one of those girls who can’t stand being alone and jumps from boyfriend to boyfriend (to avoid spending any real time relying on myself) – I’d fucking shoot myself if I was. So…um…FYI.
-The subways all over Manhattan were down yesterday thanks to 3 inches or rain in a half-hour’s time (oh, and apparently a tornado or two). Being that I live uptown, my office is in Soho, it was hot as hell yesterday - and the city’s transportation system had deteriorated into one big clusterfuck - I never made it into work. I did however get to spend the entire day on my computer at home trying to put out fires (I’m talking metaphorical fires for the morons out there) over email. Ever try to yell at DHL about a lost package over email? Yeah, it’s completely pointless – the very definition of ‘an exercise in futility.’ Now why didn’t I just use my phone you ask? Why didn’t I call them up and demand to speak to a human being? Well, thanks to a little thing I like to call My Life Sucks, my cell phone chose yesterday to crap out on me. So I had no way of contacting anyone in any real way. (I feel like I need a drink even now - I had a few yesterday - just thinking about that.)
-On Tuesday I got the fun job of firing this really young, really sweet, and TOTALLY incompetent editor that we had working on a special project for us. And…it sucked. I mean, she clearly deserved to be fired (honestly, she had to be the most half-assed worker I’ve ever seen – and I write a blog while I’m at work), but the actual act of firing her – someone who has done nothing but frustrate and piss me off for weeks now – was still a complete downer. (Oh, and now I have all of two days to find a replacement for her – FUCK.)
-Well, I’ve officially been taken off of Christine’s Match.com search –sorry guys. It seems that I committed a huge no-no when I replied to one of her admirers with a rather succinct and (in my opinion) accurate assessment of his character. Want to know what I wrote? Cool, let me just make sure I get the wording exactly right…OK, here it is:
“You’re a douchebag.”
Yeah…that um….that didn’t go over so well. (Although what the fuck was Christine thinking when she asked me to go through her Match.com emails the day after I’d gone through one of the uglier breakups in the history of mankind? I’m only taking so much responsibility here.) Anyway, things really went bad for me when Douchebag replied to Christine with a rather long, mean (could he have overreacted more?), and whiny email. And since Christine wasn’t aware that I had instigated this at the time (I meant to give her a heads up – I swear), she got pissed and reported this guy to Match. He then was notified, and in retaliation he reported her.
THEN she told me what was going on and I explained things…
So…yeah, I’m off the case. It’s probably for the best – I’m in no shape to be running ANYONE’S love life right now. (Although in my defense, it was probably WAY past time someone told Douchebag what a prick he was.) Still…my bad.
-On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being You’re Great and 1 being You’re Fucked, where do you think my karma is right now? Never mind, don’t answer that.
-I am officially, totally, and completely broken up with NY Guy. I don’t want to go into the details or anything (even in my own mind), so all I’m going to do is give you a 3 word synopsis of the actual breakup. Ready? Good:
It was ugly.
-In a related story, I’m now off relationships – for at least a little while. What does that mean? Well, for one thing it means that Tattoo Guy is getting no more than three dates out of me (what – I’m not dead), and then he’s hitting the road. It also means that my mom is going to be pissed. But to me it means that I’m just going to relax and enjoy my singledom (is that a word?). I need some rest people, and honestly – except for the obvious physical benefits of being in a relationship – I much prefer being single. I am not one of those girls who can’t stand being alone and jumps from boyfriend to boyfriend (to avoid spending any real time relying on myself) – I’d fucking shoot myself if I was. So…um…FYI.
-The subways all over Manhattan were down yesterday thanks to 3 inches or rain in a half-hour’s time (oh, and apparently a tornado or two). Being that I live uptown, my office is in Soho, it was hot as hell yesterday - and the city’s transportation system had deteriorated into one big clusterfuck - I never made it into work. I did however get to spend the entire day on my computer at home trying to put out fires (I’m talking metaphorical fires for the morons out there) over email. Ever try to yell at DHL about a lost package over email? Yeah, it’s completely pointless – the very definition of ‘an exercise in futility.’ Now why didn’t I just use my phone you ask? Why didn’t I call them up and demand to speak to a human being? Well, thanks to a little thing I like to call My Life Sucks, my cell phone chose yesterday to crap out on me. So I had no way of contacting anyone in any real way. (I feel like I need a drink even now - I had a few yesterday - just thinking about that.)
-On Tuesday I got the fun job of firing this really young, really sweet, and TOTALLY incompetent editor that we had working on a special project for us. And…it sucked. I mean, she clearly deserved to be fired (honestly, she had to be the most half-assed worker I’ve ever seen – and I write a blog while I’m at work), but the actual act of firing her – someone who has done nothing but frustrate and piss me off for weeks now – was still a complete downer. (Oh, and now I have all of two days to find a replacement for her – FUCK.)
-Well, I’ve officially been taken off of Christine’s Match.com search –sorry guys. It seems that I committed a huge no-no when I replied to one of her admirers with a rather succinct and (in my opinion) accurate assessment of his character. Want to know what I wrote? Cool, let me just make sure I get the wording exactly right…OK, here it is:
“You’re a douchebag.”
Yeah…that um….that didn’t go over so well. (Although what the fuck was Christine thinking when she asked me to go through her Match.com emails the day after I’d gone through one of the uglier breakups in the history of mankind? I’m only taking so much responsibility here.) Anyway, things really went bad for me when Douchebag replied to Christine with a rather long, mean (could he have overreacted more?), and whiny email. And since Christine wasn’t aware that I had instigated this at the time (I meant to give her a heads up – I swear), she got pissed and reported this guy to Match. He then was notified, and in retaliation he reported her.
THEN she told me what was going on and I explained things…
So…yeah, I’m off the case. It’s probably for the best – I’m in no shape to be running ANYONE’S love life right now. (Although in my defense, it was probably WAY past time someone told Douchebag what a prick he was.) Still…my bad.
-On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being You’re Great and 1 being You’re Fucked, where do you think my karma is right now? Never mind, don’t answer that.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Politically Incorrect
There are times when I really wonder if it’s safe for me and Christine to spend a lot of time together – case in point: Sunday Brunch.
So yeah, Christine and I have been spending a lot of time together lately (I think this is because her roommate’s such a prick and she never wants to go home), and Sunday was no different. Only this time we decided to do something together besides go to a bar…so we went to brunch instead (which, not surprisingly, involved cocktails). Anyway, even without large quantities of alcohol, we found MANY things to talk about – not sure all women are like this, but man do our topics get out of control when there are no boys around. Case in point: Below are some of the things we covered over our two (three?) hour brunch.
Note: Shockingly, we never actually got drunk during this breakfast – in other words, all of these subjects were discussed stone cold sober:
-Top 5 men we want to sleep with – this is something we cover all the time, but since we’re both incredibly fickle, the lists are ever changing.
Christine’s list:
1. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
2. Matthew Goode (he was in Match Point with Rhys Meyers – I get the feeling that film gets a lot of play over at Christine’s)
3. Michael Vartan
4. Colin Farrell
5. Simon Baker
Redhead’s list:
1. Michael Vartan (Christine and I have been known to fight over him)
2. Channing Tatum (seriously ladies, watch the movie She’s the Man – you’ll thank me)
3. Clive Owen
4. Alex Rodriguez (shut up, shut up, shut up)
5. Russell Crowe (he’s the one that ALWAYS makes my list – Christine doesn’t see it)
-What girls would we be willing to sleep with? (Note: This conversation would have been much more interesting if Christine and I were even remotely into girls. Unfortunately – as so many of our boyfriends have complained – we’re not.)
Christine:
1. Angelina Jolie (even though she’s a little scary)
2. Jessica Alba (to see if her body’s really as perfect as it looks)
3. Scarlett Johansson (surprise, surprise – she’s in Match Point too)
Redhead:
1. Charlize Theron (because she’s so pretty, I think I could close my eyes and fake it)
2. Jessica Alba (yeah, I also want to see if there are any flaws)
3. N/A (I couldn’t come up with a third)
-Flight of the Conchords. I don’t know how, but for some reason Christine and I had never talked about the show before. I’m sure you guys find that shocking since I shove the show down your throats on a weekly basis. (Hey, did you see Sunday’s episode? Fucking awesome – go home and watch it, I beg you.)
Anyway as you guys know I’m a HUGE fan, so when Christine brought it up – and mentioned that she fucking LOVES that show – we were off. (Note: Yet another reason why we’re such good friends – I think it takes a certain personality to not only like that show, but to immediately fall in love with it. We both are obsessed; trust me, it says a lot about us.)
The conversation only got creepy when Christine revealed that she has a wee bit of a crush on the show’s two stars – Bret and Jermaine. And when I say a ‘wee bit of a crush,’ what I mean to say is ‘I think I should keep an eye on her to avoid having to bail her out of jail for stalking.’ I’m not even really kidding when I say that. On the plus side, at least I FINALLY found someone (yes, that’s a dig at you guys) to talk to about the show. So yay.
-Gay porn (don’t ask). Essentially – and I think it came out of our discussion over what women we would do (see above) – we talked about how much hotter the idea of two guys together was (as opposed to two girls). That got Christine going about something she’d seen on YouTube a while back. Um…how to put this…hmmm? OK, I’ll just come out with it – apparently there is a version of the show Jesus Christ Superstar (shut up) on YouTube that has a VERY homoerotic Jesus/Judas undertone (yeah, yeah, Redhead’s going to hell, blah, blah, blah – let me point out that this was all Christine’s fault).
Either way, Christine was adamant that it was a total turn on. I just shook my head. Then yesterday, she emailed me the link. I watched it…and couldn’t stop laughing; I was at my desk at work (seriously, I’m going to get fired soon). She claims I was laughing because Judas was dressed all in leather and Jesus looked like Fabio. I’ll agree that may have had something to do with it. But did I think it was hot? No way. But she did. And if that turned her on, I can only imagine what real gay porn would do – so I think I’m going to get Christine some for her birthday. Am I a good friend or what?
-What the fuck is up with some girls? OK, let me explain: As we were sitting there having breakfast, group after group of girls came in to meet up, have brunch, etc. And they all hugged (some even kissed each other on the cheek) when they got there – it was like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Christine and I have always been baffled by this phenomenon. I mean, why do chicks do this? Most of them haven’t seen each other in a few days, a week tops. Do they really need to hug? And do they need to giggle that much too? What’s the fucking point? It’s annoying.
This got us on the topic of girls who bring cameras everywhere – including bars on Saturday nights. What the fuck is up with that? Am I the only one who fucking wants to tear her hair out when someone asks me to pose for a picture at 1 in the morning? Can someone explain the logic here to me? (I realize I may lose my girl card over this little rant, but I honestly don’t get it – and SO MANY girls are guilty of the above offenses. Explain it to me, please.)
-Christine’s Match.com quest for a worthwhile man. Some more comments on pictures/profiles: Ummm…guys, I think Christine and I know why some of you are still single. For the guys who insist on putting pictures of themselves up where they’re wearing Halloween costumes – stop, you look like an asshole. For the guys who put up pictures of themselves decked out in various fashion faux pas – unless you’re really hot (in which case the discussion then turns to how fixable you are and whether you’re worth the effort), a picture of you wearing something as unforgivable and hideous as jean shorts should never make it onto the Internet. The fact that you put it up yourself as an advertisement for…well, YOU…that’s inexcusable. Stop it. Right now.
Oh, and the guys who – after just a short perusal of your photos and your About Me intro…shit, how do I say this? OK, I’m just going to say it – if Christine and I can tell within just a few seconds that you’re gay, than other people can too. That’s why women aren’t responding. It’s not because you’re not hot (most of the time you really, really are), but women aren’t looking to waste their time. So quit filling out the Man Seeking Woman tag, mkay?
Cool, that’s it for me today – I’m swamped at work this week. How’s everyone else doing?
So yeah, Christine and I have been spending a lot of time together lately (I think this is because her roommate’s such a prick and she never wants to go home), and Sunday was no different. Only this time we decided to do something together besides go to a bar…so we went to brunch instead (which, not surprisingly, involved cocktails). Anyway, even without large quantities of alcohol, we found MANY things to talk about – not sure all women are like this, but man do our topics get out of control when there are no boys around. Case in point: Below are some of the things we covered over our two (three?) hour brunch.
Note: Shockingly, we never actually got drunk during this breakfast – in other words, all of these subjects were discussed stone cold sober:
-Top 5 men we want to sleep with – this is something we cover all the time, but since we’re both incredibly fickle, the lists are ever changing.
Christine’s list:
1. Jonathan Rhys Meyers
2. Matthew Goode (he was in Match Point with Rhys Meyers – I get the feeling that film gets a lot of play over at Christine’s)
3. Michael Vartan
4. Colin Farrell
5. Simon Baker
Redhead’s list:
1. Michael Vartan (Christine and I have been known to fight over him)
2. Channing Tatum (seriously ladies, watch the movie She’s the Man – you’ll thank me)
3. Clive Owen
4. Alex Rodriguez (shut up, shut up, shut up)
5. Russell Crowe (he’s the one that ALWAYS makes my list – Christine doesn’t see it)
-What girls would we be willing to sleep with? (Note: This conversation would have been much more interesting if Christine and I were even remotely into girls. Unfortunately – as so many of our boyfriends have complained – we’re not.)
Christine:
1. Angelina Jolie (even though she’s a little scary)
2. Jessica Alba (to see if her body’s really as perfect as it looks)
3. Scarlett Johansson (surprise, surprise – she’s in Match Point too)
Redhead:
1. Charlize Theron (because she’s so pretty, I think I could close my eyes and fake it)
2. Jessica Alba (yeah, I also want to see if there are any flaws)
3. N/A (I couldn’t come up with a third)
-Flight of the Conchords. I don’t know how, but for some reason Christine and I had never talked about the show before. I’m sure you guys find that shocking since I shove the show down your throats on a weekly basis. (Hey, did you see Sunday’s episode? Fucking awesome – go home and watch it, I beg you.)
Anyway as you guys know I’m a HUGE fan, so when Christine brought it up – and mentioned that she fucking LOVES that show – we were off. (Note: Yet another reason why we’re such good friends – I think it takes a certain personality to not only like that show, but to immediately fall in love with it. We both are obsessed; trust me, it says a lot about us.)
The conversation only got creepy when Christine revealed that she has a wee bit of a crush on the show’s two stars – Bret and Jermaine. And when I say a ‘wee bit of a crush,’ what I mean to say is ‘I think I should keep an eye on her to avoid having to bail her out of jail for stalking.’ I’m not even really kidding when I say that. On the plus side, at least I FINALLY found someone (yes, that’s a dig at you guys) to talk to about the show. So yay.
-Gay porn (don’t ask). Essentially – and I think it came out of our discussion over what women we would do (see above) – we talked about how much hotter the idea of two guys together was (as opposed to two girls). That got Christine going about something she’d seen on YouTube a while back. Um…how to put this…hmmm? OK, I’ll just come out with it – apparently there is a version of the show Jesus Christ Superstar (shut up) on YouTube that has a VERY homoerotic Jesus/Judas undertone (yeah, yeah, Redhead’s going to hell, blah, blah, blah – let me point out that this was all Christine’s fault).
Either way, Christine was adamant that it was a total turn on. I just shook my head. Then yesterday, she emailed me the link. I watched it…and couldn’t stop laughing; I was at my desk at work (seriously, I’m going to get fired soon). She claims I was laughing because Judas was dressed all in leather and Jesus looked like Fabio. I’ll agree that may have had something to do with it. But did I think it was hot? No way. But she did. And if that turned her on, I can only imagine what real gay porn would do – so I think I’m going to get Christine some for her birthday. Am I a good friend or what?
-What the fuck is up with some girls? OK, let me explain: As we were sitting there having breakfast, group after group of girls came in to meet up, have brunch, etc. And they all hugged (some even kissed each other on the cheek) when they got there – it was like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. Christine and I have always been baffled by this phenomenon. I mean, why do chicks do this? Most of them haven’t seen each other in a few days, a week tops. Do they really need to hug? And do they need to giggle that much too? What’s the fucking point? It’s annoying.
This got us on the topic of girls who bring cameras everywhere – including bars on Saturday nights. What the fuck is up with that? Am I the only one who fucking wants to tear her hair out when someone asks me to pose for a picture at 1 in the morning? Can someone explain the logic here to me? (I realize I may lose my girl card over this little rant, but I honestly don’t get it – and SO MANY girls are guilty of the above offenses. Explain it to me, please.)
-Christine’s Match.com quest for a worthwhile man. Some more comments on pictures/profiles: Ummm…guys, I think Christine and I know why some of you are still single. For the guys who insist on putting pictures of themselves up where they’re wearing Halloween costumes – stop, you look like an asshole. For the guys who put up pictures of themselves decked out in various fashion faux pas – unless you’re really hot (in which case the discussion then turns to how fixable you are and whether you’re worth the effort), a picture of you wearing something as unforgivable and hideous as jean shorts should never make it onto the Internet. The fact that you put it up yourself as an advertisement for…well, YOU…that’s inexcusable. Stop it. Right now.
Oh, and the guys who – after just a short perusal of your photos and your About Me intro…shit, how do I say this? OK, I’m just going to say it – if Christine and I can tell within just a few seconds that you’re gay, than other people can too. That’s why women aren’t responding. It’s not because you’re not hot (most of the time you really, really are), but women aren’t looking to waste their time. So quit filling out the Man Seeking Woman tag, mkay?
Cool, that’s it for me today – I’m swamped at work this week. How’s everyone else doing?
Friday, August 3, 2007
Life Update
Quick update on my life, and then I’m going to go back to being hungover:
Christine and I went out drinking last night (I think we all remember what happened the last time we grabbed a drink), BUT FIRST we went to see Harry Potter. Um…how do I say this tactfully?...nope, can’t say it tactfully – I wanted to fuck Harry Potter.
OK, let me rephrase: I found myself VERY attracted to the actor who plays Harry Potter – Daniel Radcliffe. Now for a fan of the books – and someone who has seen every one of the Potter movies – that can be a little disconcerting. Why? Well, the movies started when Radcliffe was like 12. Fucking 12! I REMEMBER what he looked like back then. Sure, he’s grown up (aka legal) now, but…God, I’m going to hell.
So we’re sitting in the movie theater, and I realize the direction my thoughts are going. Now instead of keeping it to myself (discretion – what’s that?), I turn to Christine and whisper in her ear something along the lines of, “Am I loosing it or has Harry Potter gotten hot?” Mistake # 1: Even letting Christine know what was going on in my head. Mistake #2: Saying Harry Potter had gotten hot rather than saying Daniel Radcliffe had gotten hot – I’m not sure why this is, but it just sounds a LITTLE less wrong when I’m not using the name of a beloved children’s book character.
Anyway, Christine didn’t miss a beat before shouting (in the movie theater!), “Oh my God, you’ve become a dirty old woman.” I opened my mouth to argue, but…fuck, she was right. I mean, just moments before I HAD been fantasizing about engaging in lewd acts with Harry Potter (shit, sorry – Daniel Radcliffe).
Radcliffe (incidentally), turned 18 LAST WEEK. This is a boy who – if I ever met him, lost my mind, and picked him up – probably wouldn’t even know what to do with me. FUUUCCCKKKKKK!
So after the movie ended, it was clear I desperately needed some grown up time – we went to a bar. Once there, it was a bit of a horror show in the beginning. (Note: Grown up time can suck.) Why? Well, I got another doozy of a pickup line. (How does this always happen to me?) Want to hear it? Cool, it went something like: I want to fuck you so hard – maybe in the ass.
No, I’m not kidding or exaggerating. I’d actually met the guy who uttered this beaut only about 20 minutes before he delivered it. Christine almost died. Thankfully, I was already halfway through my second drink (yes, in 20 minutes – dirty old women sometimes need to drink hard), so I was barely fazed. I simply gave the guy a head tilt (kind of like I was trying to figure out what he was on) and then moved on to his friend. That guy was better (of course, it would have been shocking if he wasn’t).
Long story short, I met ANOTHER guy while at the bar – not part of the first (shockingly bad line) group. He was…(girly sigh) about six feet tall, short brown hair, blue eyes, incredibly hot body, and the most badass tattoo on his arm I have ever seen.
You see, I kind of saw it peaking out of his shirt collar when we started talking but held myself back from saying anything. However, after a couple more drinks (hence, my current hangover) I was finally ready to see the merchandise (so to speak). And it turned out to be even better than I expected (I fucking LOVE tattoos). Now I didn’t see all of it – he just pulled the neck of his shirt over so I could check out the shoulder and top of his arm – but what I did see…(am I drooling?).
So…um…eventually it came time to leave, and I went to give Tattoo Guy my number (yes, I gave him my number – yes, I realize I need to break up with NY Guy ASAP), only he wouldn’t let me leave just like that – he wanted plans for a date AND my number. So…(clearing throat and looking away)…we’re going out next Thursday. (That’s enough time to take care of my shitstorm of a personal life – that I created – right?)
Anyway…
Oh, and then Tattoo Guy called me an hour or two after I left the bar – he’d just gotten home and said he couldn’t wait to speak to me again. We talked for about an hour before I finally told him I had to go to bed. (Another sigh.)
Anyway, yeah – that’s what’s going on in my life. I’m a dirty old woman (probably going to hell), I’m like a magnet for horrifying, horrifying pickup lines, and I TOTALLY have a HUGE crush right now on a new guy. So…how’s everyone else doing? Looking forward to a good weekend? Anything new you want to tell me?
Christine and I went out drinking last night (I think we all remember what happened the last time we grabbed a drink), BUT FIRST we went to see Harry Potter. Um…how do I say this tactfully?...nope, can’t say it tactfully – I wanted to fuck Harry Potter.
OK, let me rephrase: I found myself VERY attracted to the actor who plays Harry Potter – Daniel Radcliffe. Now for a fan of the books – and someone who has seen every one of the Potter movies – that can be a little disconcerting. Why? Well, the movies started when Radcliffe was like 12. Fucking 12! I REMEMBER what he looked like back then. Sure, he’s grown up (aka legal) now, but…God, I’m going to hell.
So we’re sitting in the movie theater, and I realize the direction my thoughts are going. Now instead of keeping it to myself (discretion – what’s that?), I turn to Christine and whisper in her ear something along the lines of, “Am I loosing it or has Harry Potter gotten hot?” Mistake # 1: Even letting Christine know what was going on in my head. Mistake #2: Saying Harry Potter had gotten hot rather than saying Daniel Radcliffe had gotten hot – I’m not sure why this is, but it just sounds a LITTLE less wrong when I’m not using the name of a beloved children’s book character.
Anyway, Christine didn’t miss a beat before shouting (in the movie theater!), “Oh my God, you’ve become a dirty old woman.” I opened my mouth to argue, but…fuck, she was right. I mean, just moments before I HAD been fantasizing about engaging in lewd acts with Harry Potter (shit, sorry – Daniel Radcliffe).
Radcliffe (incidentally), turned 18 LAST WEEK. This is a boy who – if I ever met him, lost my mind, and picked him up – probably wouldn’t even know what to do with me. FUUUCCCKKKKKK!
So after the movie ended, it was clear I desperately needed some grown up time – we went to a bar. Once there, it was a bit of a horror show in the beginning. (Note: Grown up time can suck.) Why? Well, I got another doozy of a pickup line. (How does this always happen to me?) Want to hear it? Cool, it went something like: I want to fuck you so hard – maybe in the ass.
No, I’m not kidding or exaggerating. I’d actually met the guy who uttered this beaut only about 20 minutes before he delivered it. Christine almost died. Thankfully, I was already halfway through my second drink (yes, in 20 minutes – dirty old women sometimes need to drink hard), so I was barely fazed. I simply gave the guy a head tilt (kind of like I was trying to figure out what he was on) and then moved on to his friend. That guy was better (of course, it would have been shocking if he wasn’t).
Long story short, I met ANOTHER guy while at the bar – not part of the first (shockingly bad line) group. He was…(girly sigh) about six feet tall, short brown hair, blue eyes, incredibly hot body, and the most badass tattoo on his arm I have ever seen.
You see, I kind of saw it peaking out of his shirt collar when we started talking but held myself back from saying anything. However, after a couple more drinks (hence, my current hangover) I was finally ready to see the merchandise (so to speak). And it turned out to be even better than I expected (I fucking LOVE tattoos). Now I didn’t see all of it – he just pulled the neck of his shirt over so I could check out the shoulder and top of his arm – but what I did see…(am I drooling?).
So…um…eventually it came time to leave, and I went to give Tattoo Guy my number (yes, I gave him my number – yes, I realize I need to break up with NY Guy ASAP), only he wouldn’t let me leave just like that – he wanted plans for a date AND my number. So…(clearing throat and looking away)…we’re going out next Thursday. (That’s enough time to take care of my shitstorm of a personal life – that I created – right?)
Anyway…
Oh, and then Tattoo Guy called me an hour or two after I left the bar – he’d just gotten home and said he couldn’t wait to speak to me again. We talked for about an hour before I finally told him I had to go to bed. (Another sigh.)
Anyway, yeah – that’s what’s going on in my life. I’m a dirty old woman (probably going to hell), I’m like a magnet for horrifying, horrifying pickup lines, and I TOTALLY have a HUGE crush right now on a new guy. So…how’s everyone else doing? Looking forward to a good weekend? Anything new you want to tell me?
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Well That’s Embarrassing
So I’m sitting at my desk at the end of the day yesterday, minding my own business, when I realized I had to pee. Since I generally have to pee every hour on the hour (what the fuck is UP with that by the way?), I thought nothing of it and headed for the bathroom. Walking into a stall, I closed the door and, you know, peed. Pretty normal so far, right? Yeah, it was.
(Totally random aside: Do you ever find it hard to pee in a public bathroom if there is someone else in there? I mean, it’s totally quiet yet you know someone else is there, and you’re sitting there trying to pee – yes, I realize this is a horrifying topic – and you just CAN’T. It’s like there is too much pressure on you (me) or something. Am I the only one this happens to? I mean, no matter how badly I have to go, I can’t. I find myself just waiting for everyone to leave. My mother calls it my ‘bashful bladder.’ Doesn’t it make sense that all public bathrooms should have some music playing in the background or something? For privacy. So um…am I the only one who has this problem?)
Anyway, so there I was reaching out and preparing to fight with the toilet paper dispenser (that crappy cheap toilet paper just tears and doesn’t roll out when in the fucking dispenser – I always find myself tearing off little scraps, trying to get the equivalent of just a few fucking squares), when the dispenser freaking explodes on me. Well, maybe not explodes. Just flies open unexpectedly. Right into my arm. And it’s metal.
That goddamn fucking dispenser ripped my arm open. I mean, it TORE the skin off my forearm – I freaking looked like I had tried to slash my wrist or something. And it HURT.
So of course I immediately freaked out, started cursing, and frantically tried to tear a roll of toilet paper out to staunch the flow the blood. Frantically pulling my skirt down and flushing, I rushed out and went to the sink to try to clean up some of the blood.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t really paying attention to much else beyond my arm.
So, I left the bathroom and immediately went into the kitchen area on my floor to a) get to the first aid kit that we keep there which (sadly – I can be accident prone) I already know stocks both Neosporin and band aids, and b) bitch to anyone who was there (the kitchen is a place that always has a few people around) about how the bathroom had attacked me.
What I didn’t notice – as I went into one of the most heavily populated areas in my office – was that I had tucked the back of my skirt into my underwear. My Tomboy underwear with the Tonka trucks all over them (shut up) if you want to get specific about it.
Apparently, everyone else did notice. And it only took about 5 minutes before someone told me – five minutes of me making myself the center of attention, but whatever.
Quick note: As luck would have it, I was wearing a new sundress yesterday. It was pretty and flowy and nothing like what I normally wear – I’m more of a jeans (yes, we mainly wear jeans in my office) or (if I’m wearing a skirt) pencil skirt type person. I don’t wear gauzy and flowy, I wear fitted and body conscious. The major plus to these types of clothes – on a normal day I would TOTALLY notice if my skirt was up above my undies. With a flowy dress…not so much.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I was in the kitchen telling everyone about my brush with the toilet paper dispenser, when one of the women from my group walked in, took one look at me (she came in behind me, where my behind was facing the open door for everyone to see as they walked by), and immediately walked over and whispered in my ear that my ass was hanging out.
Um…
Turning bright red, I reached back to check and…yup, my butt was bare. Silently thanking God for all the lunges and squats I do even though I hate them (hell, if I’m going to be flashing the world I want to at least take solace in the fact that my ass looks good), I quickly grabbed the skirt of my dress and tugged. I didn’t even try to hide what I was doing – fuck it, everyone knew anyway. Fuck, I thought. That explained why no one had seemed to care about my story. It did make me regret how – in an effort to really capture the drama of my experience – I had been gesticulating wildly and generally doing everything I could to get them to pay MORE attention to me.
I’m a moron.
Realizing that I needed to say or do something now (my audience was waiting after all), I thought, and thought, and thought, and finally just gave up, shrugged, and hauled ass (no pun intended) out of there (my pride was a distant memory at that point anyway). And (of course) walked straight into the ONE cute, straight, single guy in the office.
Now I normally flirt with this guy (he’s really cute), even though I would never date someone I work with. I do it because he’s fun and he seems to like me. But not yesterday. Not after the Great Ass Debacle. Oh no. Yesterday I barely acknowledged him as I RAN back to my desk, quickly turned off my computer, grabbed my bag, and left. Hell, sometimes you have to just tuck your tail between your legs and GET THE FUCK OUT.
So that’s my story – just a typical Tuesday in the life of Redhead. I am a fucking rock star. So, how’s your week been so far guys?
(Totally random aside: Do you ever find it hard to pee in a public bathroom if there is someone else in there? I mean, it’s totally quiet yet you know someone else is there, and you’re sitting there trying to pee – yes, I realize this is a horrifying topic – and you just CAN’T. It’s like there is too much pressure on you (me) or something. Am I the only one this happens to? I mean, no matter how badly I have to go, I can’t. I find myself just waiting for everyone to leave. My mother calls it my ‘bashful bladder.’ Doesn’t it make sense that all public bathrooms should have some music playing in the background or something? For privacy. So um…am I the only one who has this problem?)
Anyway, so there I was reaching out and preparing to fight with the toilet paper dispenser (that crappy cheap toilet paper just tears and doesn’t roll out when in the fucking dispenser – I always find myself tearing off little scraps, trying to get the equivalent of just a few fucking squares), when the dispenser freaking explodes on me. Well, maybe not explodes. Just flies open unexpectedly. Right into my arm. And it’s metal.
That goddamn fucking dispenser ripped my arm open. I mean, it TORE the skin off my forearm – I freaking looked like I had tried to slash my wrist or something. And it HURT.
So of course I immediately freaked out, started cursing, and frantically tried to tear a roll of toilet paper out to staunch the flow the blood. Frantically pulling my skirt down and flushing, I rushed out and went to the sink to try to clean up some of the blood.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t really paying attention to much else beyond my arm.
So, I left the bathroom and immediately went into the kitchen area on my floor to a) get to the first aid kit that we keep there which (sadly – I can be accident prone) I already know stocks both Neosporin and band aids, and b) bitch to anyone who was there (the kitchen is a place that always has a few people around) about how the bathroom had attacked me.
What I didn’t notice – as I went into one of the most heavily populated areas in my office – was that I had tucked the back of my skirt into my underwear. My Tomboy underwear with the Tonka trucks all over them (shut up) if you want to get specific about it.
Apparently, everyone else did notice. And it only took about 5 minutes before someone told me – five minutes of me making myself the center of attention, but whatever.
Quick note: As luck would have it, I was wearing a new sundress yesterday. It was pretty and flowy and nothing like what I normally wear – I’m more of a jeans (yes, we mainly wear jeans in my office) or (if I’m wearing a skirt) pencil skirt type person. I don’t wear gauzy and flowy, I wear fitted and body conscious. The major plus to these types of clothes – on a normal day I would TOTALLY notice if my skirt was up above my undies. With a flowy dress…not so much.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so I was in the kitchen telling everyone about my brush with the toilet paper dispenser, when one of the women from my group walked in, took one look at me (she came in behind me, where my behind was facing the open door for everyone to see as they walked by), and immediately walked over and whispered in my ear that my ass was hanging out.
Um…
Turning bright red, I reached back to check and…yup, my butt was bare. Silently thanking God for all the lunges and squats I do even though I hate them (hell, if I’m going to be flashing the world I want to at least take solace in the fact that my ass looks good), I quickly grabbed the skirt of my dress and tugged. I didn’t even try to hide what I was doing – fuck it, everyone knew anyway. Fuck, I thought. That explained why no one had seemed to care about my story. It did make me regret how – in an effort to really capture the drama of my experience – I had been gesticulating wildly and generally doing everything I could to get them to pay MORE attention to me.
I’m a moron.
Realizing that I needed to say or do something now (my audience was waiting after all), I thought, and thought, and thought, and finally just gave up, shrugged, and hauled ass (no pun intended) out of there (my pride was a distant memory at that point anyway). And (of course) walked straight into the ONE cute, straight, single guy in the office.
Now I normally flirt with this guy (he’s really cute), even though I would never date someone I work with. I do it because he’s fun and he seems to like me. But not yesterday. Not after the Great Ass Debacle. Oh no. Yesterday I barely acknowledged him as I RAN back to my desk, quickly turned off my computer, grabbed my bag, and left. Hell, sometimes you have to just tuck your tail between your legs and GET THE FUCK OUT.
So that’s my story – just a typical Tuesday in the life of Redhead. I am a fucking rock star. So, how’s your week been so far guys?
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