A Secret Obsession
Question: does anyone love "Laguna Beach" on MTV as much as I do? I started watching at the beginning of the season because I was bored and it was on after "The Real World", and I have been completely hooked ever since. I am sort of obsessed with the show. I guess it's not so much a secret anymore, though. I missed it last week and I am trying to find out when they're airing repeats. It's sick. Let me tell you - watching rich, snooty 18 year olds shop, surf, use awful slang (i.e. stoked, rad), and hook up is good shit, honestly.
Oh, but if anyone does watch, I met some people from MTV at my industry social thingy a couple of weeks ago and apparently Stephen and Kristin are still together. Unbelievable.
Paul montage
Meet Paul. He's one of my faves, and he is my token friend that I make fun of...on a daily basis. It's okay, everyone pokes a little fun at P-Zoo. He likes the attention. So hey, it's Tuesday, November 30th, so let's make it Paul Enlightens Net Intelligent Surfers (PENIS) day. Cheers to you, baby. This picture, by the way, was taken shortly after Paul neglected to wear sunscreen. Nevermind that he lives in San Diego and should wear it all the time. Stupid Paul.
When I went to San Diego (aka "Whale's Vagina" in German), I stayed with these characters for a week. We got all dressed up and went out for drinks at the Del. Awesome.
"First Run", now some classy joint, was always the best on Monday nights, aka "karaoke". There you could find convicted felons, poor WT, and assorted other characters. Paul and I were regulars.
Weird dreams
I have dreamt about the same person four times in the past two weeks. It's a guy I used to have a huge crush on in middle school and high school. Each dream involves myself and...let's call him "Beans", at some sort of formal dance. So far, we have gone to two Homecomings, a Sadie Hawkins, and a Spring Formal. What the f$#k.
Every time, I am wearing the same dress that my mom used to make me wear to bar mitzvahs in 6th grade. It is black and sleeveless with little ruffles down the front, and it cost a fortune.
In every dream, we go to the dance together and then I end up losing him - either to another girl (always uglier), or his friends, or some unknown reason. And then I sit down in my 6th grade dress and cry. It's so sad.
What does this all mean? Personally, I think it means that I need to cash in a prescription for strong sleeping pills. ASAP.
What I Want For My Birthday
Part two: here is what I am actually hoping for. I have thought pretty long and hard about this.
- TiVo - probably not going to happen because I don't have a land line, and apparently you need one to hook it up. Who thought of that, by the way? I will pay someone big bucks to figure out how to hook that f%$ker up to a cell phone. Seriously.
- A vacation - probably not going to happen because I don't have any extra money, and am already going to New York next weekend anyway. After that trip, I for sure will not have any money left. Or vacation days.
- "Anchorman" on DVD. Has this come out yet on DVD? If it has, take note, good friends.
- To go out for dinner with girlfriends - this is happening, so that's good.
- Money - I love money. I need more of it to support my lifestyle, my social habits, and my sanity. Please donate to my funds. I promise it won't be wasted (but I might be).
- I kind of want "Jerry Maguire" to fly out here, show up on my doorstep, and jump out of a chocolate, buttercream-frosting birthday cake with sprinkles, wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Why I want this, I'm not sure. I used to date "Jerry". It didn't really work out, but after a little bit of not talking and later, pretending that I didn't give a f&%k about whether or not I ever spoke to him again, I realize that I really do kind of miss him. He is the Master of Funny Shit, and he is still my favorite person to talk to at 5 am. (Sorry Chris, you come in a very close second.) I am sure that I will not get this as a birthday present, seeing as I royally screwed things up a couple of weeks ago. But it would be nice nonetheless.
If I think of anything to add, I will add it later.
What I'm Getting For My Birthday
My birthday is this Saturday. I will be 24 years old, which is sort of scary, considering that according to my co-worker, this marks the entry into my mid-twenties. When I was 17, I thought that I was going to be married and possibly with first child by 24. I think about that now, and I collapse into a fit of hysterics. At least I'm not with child. Lord knows the little bastard would be fixing Mommy martinis every night. Poor thing.
I do feel, however, that each year is anticlimactic. I had my best ever birthday 2 years ago, when I turned 22 (for those of you who didn't major in math), so I kind of feel like very little can top 2002, but I'm always optimistic.
Anyway, so here is what I know/predict will happen on my birthday:
- Warmup: Office Christmas party on Friday - purely coincidental. But if it's anything like the summer party, where my office competed in a flip cup tournament and then stumbled to the karaoke bar, where we lit paper on fire at the bar and waved it around, sang Neil Diamond, accused other patrons of being Commies for not clapping their hands to "America", and almost got thrown out, it should be fun.
- 6:45 am, Saturday - will receive phone call from weepy parents at exact time of birth, lamenting on how quickly I've grown up and how they remember how I just shot right out of a uterus in a snowstorm only 24 years ago. I love this annual phone call, but will probably be annoyed at being woken up that early.
- Art museum on Saturday, day - this was Second Chance's idea. He called and wanted to do something cool for my birthday. Nice gesture. I'm not sure how my maturity level is going to handle contemporary art (I hate it) or any sort of nudity passed off as art (must restrain self from making crass comments), but I am going to suck it up and try to be a big girl about it.
- Dinner with girlfriends on Saturday, evening - Very excited. Love the restaurant we're going to, always lots of good eye candy. Awesome food. Love girlfriends.
- Bar crawl on Saturday, night - Good stuff. Will meet up with other friends and cause a ruckus.
- Will inevitably drunk dial someone I'm not supposed to...will hopefully have phone confiscated from friend who has had less to drink than I have before call is completed.
- Will inevitably pass out in pantyhose.
Guess who's back, boys?
Well, it took me a good five or six days to recover from my stuffing coma, but I am back in the house, hotties. I apologize for keeping all three of you waiting for so long, but when I'm on vacation, it's for real, and that includes any and all Internet activities.
The drawback to this "vacation" is that after having woken up at 4:30 CST (seriously) to hop a flight back to Chicago, and after waiting in the security line for an hour, and after sitting next to a serious nerd who was flying back to his nerdy school, U of Chicago, who was reading some book about emigrate prosecution or something crazy like that, and after getting into work an hour and a half late, I am buried under massive amounts of paper. And I have a lunch today.
So, no good posting until later, I'm sorry to report. The good news is that later tonight, I will be posting quite a bit, as I have some catching up to do. Can't let the readers down.
Cheers to a good day...check you later.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Today is the day before my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving. It's my favorite, because I think I'm really good at it. I'm not that good at the whole pious praying thing, but I am very good at gluttony, shopping, sleeping, and rating how cute the football players are on tv.
I am all packed and ready for my first Thanksgiving in Hotlanta. And let me tell you -- considering that I brought all of my summer clothes home two weeks ago, playing "Where's the Yank?" is going to be incredibly easy for Georgians this week, as I will be the only person within a 200-mile radius wearing a turtleneck sweater. As if I don't feel dorky enough already.
The good news is that I just found out that my friend MC will be in town as well, so I'll have a buddy to possibly hang out with this weekend. This is good. He is cool, and we have fun. That is, once I stop being nervous and the throw-up feeling goes away. I don't think I have ever been intimidated by any guy in my entire life, but I am sort of intimidated by him. He's got a lot going for him. I'm not quite used to that (well, with a couple of exceptions).
Seeing as I will be out of town for the next five days, I imagine that posting will probably be pretty light. So if I don't get the chance to say it before, Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels.
Who Not to Date, Part One of Many
Seriously, don't date this guy.
This is the first installment in a series that I am calling, "Who Not To Date". It's not a "profile" so much as a little blurb here or there, wherever and whenever the thought may strike me.
First up on our running list: do not date anyone who is into
Dungeons and Dragons. Remember this game? It was the weird, cultish game, popular with up-and-coming teenage sociopaths in the 80s. I think the goal was to acquire as many gnomes and drawbridges as possible, or some shit like that. Regardless, anyone into D&D is likely to tie you up in the bedroom and take you out of your comfort zone faster than you can say, "Take off that creepy mask and get the hell out of my house." Not someone to bring home to Mom and Dad.
Beware of the warning signs, which should be glaringly obvious - like an unusual affixation on wooden clogs, or "affectionately" naming you Princess Zoltar.
Consider yourselves warned.
My first boyfriend
Well, I feel like there's been a lot of man-bashing on my part lately, so I've decided to write a serious post. Wow, that's deep, and I haven't even gotten past the first sentence.
My first boyfriend called me tonight to talk. Not a big surprise - we talk all the time. We met in high school (he went to a different school), and we dated my entire junior year. He inevitably dumped me for some skanky girl who put out, and we've been friends ever since. It's been 8 years.
Last night, he broke up with a girl he was practically engaged to, and he's pretty devastated. So he called me (since apparently I'm a shrink now), and I tapped myself out of all of the breakup advice that I have. Go out with other people. Throw yourself into work. Make a list of shit you've been meaning to do forever and actually do it. Write a blog. (Just kidding.) We talked a lot about why sometimes, things just don't work, and how it's nobody's fault. Or how you can be in love with someone, and find out that they are totally wrong for you.
And then, to cheer him up (I didn't want him to jump out a window, for God's sake, I was trying to make him feel
better), I brought up some old times. Like the time he called me, flipping out, because his parents found the 3-foot bong under his bed. And like the time I was convinced he gave me mono and wouldn't touch him for a week. Wait, actually, he
did give me mono. Well, anyway, good times. We laughed quite a bit. I think my tactic worked.
We've been friends for so long that, as with a lot of friendships, sometimes I feel like we're just going through the motions. Phone call here, visit there. But for the first time in a long time -- tonight, I remembered all of the things that I love about this guy. I remembered why we've been friends for so long, and why we'll be friends 50 years from now. Even when we're married to other people and I probably will somehow have 5 illegitimate kids.
The thing that's so cool -- and scary -- about people and relationships is that I think that they're all we really have in life. And it's an amazing thing to look back on 8 years and see how far you've come, how much your friendship has evolved. When I was 16, I told him I wanted to work in advertising and live in Chicago. Now, at one week shy of 24, I am working in advertising and living in Chicago. He has always wanted to make a lot of money and live in New York. And now his rich ass works in commercial real estate and lives in Manhattan. Funny, you know?
Where am I going with this...oh yes, I urge you to hunt down your first love (if you're still on speaking terms), call them, and ask them how they've been. And just talk to them. For me, talking to him now is great. Just listening to him brings me back to when I was 16 and didn't have to worry about getting promoted, or paying the bills, or coming home on a weeknight to an empty apartment -- to a bottle of white wine and a refrigerator full of condiments. I completely forget about that when we're on the phone, or on the rare occasion that I see him. And it's nice to forget sometimes. It's nice to "go home", so to speak, and revisit someone who really knows you, and doesn't think you're an idiot. Or at least if they do, they know better than to admit that to you, and love you in spite of it.
Inside the Actors Studio
I just received this forward from my friend Rachel...thought it looked like fun. Here we go!
For those of you who don’t know, I really enjoy the show Inside the Actors Studio which airs on Sunday nights on Bravo (check it out!). Near the end of the show James Lipton, the commentator asks his guests a series of questions that are so simple but so insightful.
Send this back to me and pass on!
What is your favorite word? lately, "ostensibly" -- I like to use it with everything.
Least favorite word? "Ain't" -- so low-class.
What turns you on? A dry sense of humor, cockiness, nice eyes
Off? blatant stupidity
What is a sound you like? giggling
Dislike? the El
What is your favorite smell? Cool Water for men (I know, I'm
so 1997.)
What is your favorite curse word? Fuck
If you could choose any profession than your own
what would it be? writer for Saturday Night Live
What profession would you never want to attempt?
Garbage collector. I don't know if that's considered a profession, per se, but I couldn't handle smelling like trash all day.
If heaven exists what would God say to you when
you arrive? "Has there been some sort of mistake?"
Gotta love him
Chris rocks (he is on the left).
Every one, I am convinced, has a friend from high school or college, who well after matriculating, can somehow manage to maintain going out 5-6 nights a week, and will consistently call you to remind you of this, in a feeble attempt to make you feel like the grown up loser you are slowly realizing you are.
Chris started out as my ex-boyfriend's best friend. In a fun little twist of fate, he is now one of my best friends. Funny how that works. He is so awesome, but seriously, I don't know how he manages to hold down a full time job and still call me at 1:45 am CST (2:45 am his time) to let me know that he is on his way home, trying to get some girls to come over, wishes I was out with him to make a mess, is going to stop at Dairy Mart for a wheel of cheese, and can't see out of one of his eyes (and all of these declarations came as he apparently passed a cop).
Chris, I don't know how you do it, but cheers to you. You made the blog.
Q&A with the Naughty Girl
Well, we've been up and running for a little over a week, and while I haven't gotten a lot of comments, I've gotten a lot of emails with questions (what's wrong people, are you afraid to post stuff on the Internet? I'm telling you, "anonymous feature"). I thought it'd only be fair to address things up front, here and now. I think I will do this periodically, just to stay in touch with the reader base. (Wow, that was so self-important, sorry.)
Frequently Asked Questions
Why are you calling yourself "Naughty Girl"? Who do you think you are, Beyonce?
A few months ago, I was dating someone, and over the course of a few alcohol-infused conversations, I ended up revealing quite a bit about my personal life, in all its dramatic glory. He took it in stride and laughed, but every now and then, would refer to me as a "naughty girl", and hum the Beyonce song. I didn't think I was that bad until I started comparing notes with my friends and realized that not everyone has these same experiences, it's just me. Personally, I prefer the term "Mischief Maker", but that doesn't have as nice a ring to it as "Naughty Girl", now does it? And no, I don't think I'm Beyonce.
Why did you start a blog?
For those of you who didn't read my first post, this brainchild began because I have a few friends who have their own blogs, and I thought it looked like fun. Also, I have a lot of pent-up aggression with respect to guys I have dated/am dating, so instead of making prank phone calls to them or walking around punching random people in the face, I see this as being a more constructive outlet.
What's up with the names? Who's Jerry Maguire, and who's Media Maguire? Are they the same person?
The names are just fun little monikers that I make up for people who definitely exist. Jerry Maguire and Media Maguire are two different people. Jerry is the "godfather" of the Maguire family - he is inspired by someone in particular, but is really just a conglomerate of a lot of different guys from my past. Media Maguire is a specific person - think of him as like an offshoot of the Maguire family. An ugly, worthless offshoot.
Will you ever give us real f$#king names of these guys, or what? I want to know who to avoid.
Sorry, but probably not. I don't think it's right to call someone out by name, particularly on the Internet. After all, wasn't "Sex and the City" more fun when Carrie called Chris Noth's character "Mr. Big"? I always thought it lent some suspense and fun.
Also, these people know who they are - and might be reading. And some of you, my good friends, know who these people are. That's enough people knowing. Let's make these posts and discussions more about situations rather than specific people.
KA, you are sort of nuts for doing this.
Is this a question? Forgive me, but I thought we were looking at questions, not statements. Anyway, yes, I probably am, but I think we're all a little crazy, to varying degrees. But, with crazy people (or people who are crazy for doing things), you never have a boring day, so enjoy, and keep reading.
Once it hits your lips, it's sooo good
I walked to my building this morning, and noticed that the Fannie Mae store has re-opened...on the first floor of my building. For those of you who aren't familiar with Fannie Mae, it is the Midwest's version of Russell Stover, or a more down-scale Godiva. A more affordable Godiva. Like, so affordable that I can easily go in, buy a box of chocolate, and eat it all by myself. It is delicious, and with the holidays right around the corner, I foresee myself turning into a giant marshmallow.
I am screwed.
Bloody Sunday
Before I post, I'd like to state for the record that it's almost 5 pm on a Sunday and I am at work. I hate the week before Thanksgiving, work-wise, because we're on what's called "accelerated log deadlines", which means, in layman's terms, that I am f&$ked at work and have to come in on weekends to make sure everything is taken care of before I leave for the week.
Guess what? I have found the loneliest and saddest place in Chicago. It is...drum roll please...the city laundromat. Oh yes, make no mistake, this is the loneliest place, particularly on a Sunday afternoon. I hate how Hollywood movies make it seem like it's cool to go to the laundromats in the city. It's not cool at all. You pay $2.00 per load of wash and about $3.00 per load to dry your clothes, and often, they come out dirtier than when you brought them in. (No extra amount of fabric softener and/or dryer sheets has been known to correct this phenomenon.) There are no hot single people falling in love over a shared use of Tide with bleach, only old, poor, ugly illiterate people trying to read the paper upside down, or hungover twentysomething people who are rolling in from the bar smelling like booze and looking like they'd been ridden hard and put away wet the night before. Carrying loads of to and from the laundromat is atrocious. And they always have a 1950s television set that only gets UPN and you're stuck watching re-runs of Moesha while you're waiting for shit to dry. Awful.
While I was waiting for the washer to finish (I had seen the repeat of Moesha a few weeks ago, so the tv was not an option), I crossed the street to my local Abercrombie and Fitch, as part of my endless quest for a good pair of denim.
Two things I'd like A&F to take note of: 1. Turn your damn music down. I feel like a grandma saying it, but I think part of the reason they do such good business is that people can't hear people talk, much less
think, in that store and thus can justify spending $118 on a pair of jeans that some 4 year-old kid in the Phillippines chewed while he was teething to give the jeans that "weathered" look.
2. If you have a size 0, and you have a kids store, you do not need to make a size "00". What the hell is that? Not to mention, those were the only sizes they had left on every rack. Because about 1/1,000,000 of the female population is a size 00. First of all, making a size "00" reinforces the idea that it's okay to throw up after you eat, or to only eat carrot sticks once a day so you can look like an emaciated, sunken-eyed chihuahua. It's just not healthy at all. And anyone who actually buys the "00" at the regular store is a moron for not buying a size "14" in their kids store and paying half the price. Am I right here, or what?
Enough ranting for now...I am off to finish working on an account that I would urge you to boycott, but I won't name names because getting fired is not in the plans for my immediate future.
He Blew It
Last night I ran into a friend-of-a-friend who is hot and plays in a pretty decent band. He bought me shots and gave me neck-swiveling stares the whole time, but after some polite conversation, could
not close the deal. Not that I would have gone home with him (I really wouldn't - I think I'm sort of past that stage in the game, or at least not in a go-home-with-random phase), but here I was, entertaining the fantasy of being serenaded in a crowded smoky bar by Adam, the hot guitar player, and that fantasy fell flat on its face when he choked.
I left with my friends and turned around quickly to make sure I didn't leave anything at the bar, and his friends were - literally - smacking him in the arm and rolling their eyes, with looks of, "You moron, you really f$#ked that up" on their faces. Classic.
What a weiner.
Dance Parties Are Underrated
It's almost 10 pm CST, and I'm waiting for my hair to dry before I go out. I love Saturday nights.
I was just listening to iTunes, and Britney Spears' "Toxic" came on the shuffle. I have to admit, I love this song. So I cranked it up, and had a dance party with myself in my apartment. I'm not embarrassed to tell you that, because the truth is that dance parties are underrated.
No drunk posts tonight - I don't know what time I'll get home.
And now, a word about drunk dialing
As I predicted, I did receive a couple of drunk dials last night. One, in particular, from the guy who I had been casually dating here in my fine city. He called, wanting to know what I was up to. At 2 in the morning. On a Friday night. For the record, I was sleeping.
Drunk dials can be fab, but also completely confusing. I'll be the first to admit that if you receive a drunk dial from me, it really does have some meaning behind it. I don't waste my time calling people that I don't have a modicum of feeling for.
So now I am at a crossroads. He is supposed to call again tonight, so we can go out, but I sort of feel like an ass because just two days ago, I wrote an entire post about being done with him. I said no more than a second chance. But does not talking for a little bit mean that it's effectively the end of the second chance? I think I am going to amend my earlier words and count this little break as a break and not as a third chance, because I really feel like mugging down tonight.
Top Ten Things I Am Grateful For
1. Family
We are one of those nauseatingly close families who call each other three times a day. And they're fun to hanging out with. They've been there through a lot of ups and downs, and they love me unconditionally (or so they say), so you know what? It's only natural that they get top billing.
2. The Girls
Claire and Eva, the Chicago girlfriends (I am on the far right)
These girls, along with Beth and the two Emilys (not pictured), and a select other few, are my heart and soul (and I'm not even being sarcastic). They're beautiful, intelligent, successful girls who have big hearts and big pointy leather boots to kick your ass if you're acting stupid. I love them.
3. Living in the USA
Let's not take our country for granted. Political mess that it is, it's a f^%king miracle that we get to live in a beautiful, free country where we can express ourselves, and where human rights are of utmost importance.
4. My job
I know I complain a lot, but I really do appreciate having a job, and a good one at that. I am challenged on a daily basis, and I work in an industry that I love. Plus, the free kitchen gadgets and 8 oz. filets for lunch are pretty great.
5. Music
Music is one of the best things ever. It's one of the few things, besides chocolate, that can completely change your mood or your mindset. Nothing beats listening to Britney Spears' struggles between girlhood and womanhood to inspire you.
6. Condoms
Honestly, I think that all young, single, twentysomething people should be grateful for this because using them keeps us healthier and protects us from a lot of unnecessary gross stuff. Doesn't anyone remember the Health videos from high school? That's some sick shit. Condoms also prevent us from having kids when we're not ready, can't afford them, and aren't even sure if we want them. You know, on second thought, I might have to read only the first half of the list at dinner.
7. Mug downs
mug down (n.): to make out, or neck, with another human being
I recently learned this term, and I love it. I'm going to use it all the time. Mug downs are completely overrated. It's really the best and safest way to figure out any of the following circumstances: how much you have had to drink, how much you like the person, or how much self-control you have.
8. Target
This is my "safe place". It's quite the shopping experience. They have everything under the sun, and it's cheap. I have gone on shopping sprees there many a time when I was in a bad mood, and miraculously emerged from the store feeling a million times better, but with a cart full of shit I didn't need.
9. Martinis
Martinis are typically thought of as an old person drink, but I'm singlehandedly bringing them back to my demographic. A good martini is like a shower for your mouth. It'll loosen you up a little, and the glasses and the little olives are so cute.
10. Lip Gloss
What are you thankful for? Feel free to add to this list by posting below. And if you're too embarrassed, utilize the "Anonymous" feature on posting. Anonymous means that unless you're dumb and give yourself away, no one will know that it's you. Pretty brilliant, right?
Thank You Very Much
True to my word, I am in for the night. I'm not even answering my phone, unless it's a good drunk dial.
Today dragged on quite nicely, really, thanks to my massive hangover. My only salvation was a 2 hour client lunch, at which I ate crab bisque, an 8 oz. filet, and a slice of key lime pie for dessert. God, free lunch is so awesome. I had a nice free lunch yesterday, too, except for yesterday I had the crab-stuffed sole.
Anyway, there were about 8 of us at lunch, and we were trying to make polite conversation about Thanksgiving. For those of you who don't have the luxury of client lunches, it's a bit like a first date - the food is always good, but you're nervous the whole time, and there are a lot of awkward silences. The only difference between client lunches and dates is that (hopefully) you're not wondering whether you're going home with them or not. If you are thinking this, then you are...well, unprofessional (but I give mad props to you, because you're a smarmy little bastard).
Thinking about Thanksgiving made me sort of sad, because I will be at my sister's house in Atlanta this year, and not at home. Don't get me wrong, I love Atlanta, but in my hometown, there's always an informal little high school reunion the night before Thanksgiving. It's a pretty good time, too. People come crawling out of the woodwork for this once a year, and this is the night that you can see people you've always wondered about, hang out with people that you like and don't get to see that often, and laugh at the losers who are still losers. I liked it last year, but I think it's probably better that I won't be around for it this year. I always find myself in an awkward situation where I am in the room with at least three or four people who I've - ahem - been romantically involved with. Fairly recently. Like, within the past year or so. Yikes. And since my game strategy has always been "divide and conquer", it is not ideal to have these people floating around in the same room, especially if you're looking for a little repsycho session with one of them at the end of the night (which is not always the case, but hey, sometimes it is).
repsycho (adj., v.): to repeat a hookup with someone who has always been completely wrong for you, or someone with whom you have had a rocky/devastating/obsessive/bizarre break up
However, as fun as it can be to see people, there's always a downside. Particularly when you run into someone and seeing them tugs on your heartstrings. And it kind of feels like heartburn, or like you're going to throw up, and you try to convince yourself that you just feel like ass and you drank too much, but deep down, you know that it's because you still give a shit about the person. And it sucks. There will be people present that it'd be better for me not to see, but do you honestly think I'd reveal their identities to you in a blog post? Please. I'm classier than that, idiot.
This Thanksgiving will be different for a lot of reasons. One of them being that I am actually going to be thankful for stuff. I am working on a Top Ten List of Things I Am Grateful For, and who knows, I might even read the list at Thanksgiving dinner.
What the hell was I thinking? Vol. I, Issue 1
Oh my. Well, that might be the first
and last $5 Grey Goose martini night at Halligan's that I ever attend.
I can't wait to stop at McDonald's this morning and get a Sausage Biscuit with cheese. I know what a nutritional disaster it is, but I really don't give a f&%k right now.
At some point in the night, I woke up and drank an entire can of Diet 7 Up (empty can was on nightstand this morning). I also ate something too, but identity of food has not been confirmed as of yet (it looks like a cereal bar). Shit, I am Bridget Jones.
But let me tell you, I have some good friends. And they know me...really well. When Grant came back from a quick trip to the bathroom, I was on my phone. Drafting text messages. Not good. So my darling G, knowing this, confiscated my phone and made sure to delete every draft in my inbox before I could send anything. God bless this kid.
It's sad when you get to the weekend and realize that you've been out too hard during the week to use your Friday and Saturday, but that's where I'm at. It is all about pizza and Lindsay Lohan movies ON-DEMAND this weekend. I might even mop my floors if I'm feeling ambitious.
Wow I havet orwork toorow
Oh boye. I hater goin out with grant beause he alwys conveines me to drink s lot of alohol. Grant is reat - I am do glad he's bak. He' the kind of guy who you alays want to hook up with but bever do and alwas wonder y. Actualy, I think we'r beter off as friends. REally, makres sense.
Anyay, too drunk to pos right now, Tie to get some test. Can't see out of bot eye.
Goodight.
Everyone deserves a second chance (but that's it)
For the past few weeks, I was casually dating someone here in my fine city. We went to college together, and I ran into him randomly about a month ago at a bar, and found out he was living here. It was actually sort of a second go-round, as we tried the hanging out thing my senior year of college and as some relationships do, it sort of faded into oblivion (well, and he started dating someone else and so did I, so I guess there's your reason, if you're looking for one). So when I ran into him this time around, he called as I was just coming out of a relationship and I thought to myself, "Hey, why not? Good timing! Everyone deserves a second chance."
He's a pretty cool guy, and I like him, but the few times we went out, it was sort of low-key and at the end of the night, I would spend the night at his place and we would make out (or "mug down", as my friend MC calls it), and go to sleep. It was nice. But he hasn't called me in about a week, so I'm thinking that it's over. Maybe he's "just not that into me" (see post below). And the weird thing is, I feel bad because I just don't care. I probably should - I mean, isn't it the girl's job to freak out when the guy stops calling?
I feel like I've had a lot of personal drama (or trauma, really - either one applies) lately, so perhaps it's the distraction that contributes to my apathy about the situation, but I have made an executive decision that if I do talk to him again, we will be friends, and that's about it. Because everyone deserves a second chance, but
that's it. Third and fourth chances usually happen because you're either completely infatuated with the person and just want to see them naked again, or because you're lonely. And with all due respect to him, neither scenario applies.
As I was writing this, my friend Grant just called and announced that he was transferred back to Chicago from his job in Philly, is here right now, and that he wants to grab a drink. I vowed that I'd stay in tonight (three nights in a row is a little much), but I love Grant like a fat kid loves cake, so I'm out.
You have got to be kidding me
So the big fun event was tonight. It was big, it had its moments of fun, but it was depressing. I think every guy in this business is either gay, ugly, or taken. Except for Media Maguire (see below post), who was back tonight in full effect. Oh yes, I saw him again. This makes twice in one week! Wow, it's like we're almost a thing again. Not.
Media Maguire cornered me at the bar and proceeded to tell me about how much work sucks, and how busy he is all the time. I swear, not one question directed to me - but no surprise there. And, per the usual, he was throwing out media jargon left and right -- but he was saying shit that wasn't even making sense. I don't think he knows what half of the words mean. Hang on, I have to lean over the desk right now and vomit from the memory of it all.
At dinner later tonight, my friend and I ran into a guy who works in our building. He had a very, very hot friend with him, and things seemed to be looking up until I found out that he's a Captain for a Sea Jet at Navy Pier. I kind of blew him off after that, and I felt bad, but seriously...it wasn't going to happen. I'm not so good with seamen. I had a bit of a fling about two years ago with a real Navy seaman (anyone remember Peter?), and it hit the skids when he got ten of us thrown out of a bar at my 22nd birthday party because the bouncers busted him for puking in the men's bathroom. After that incident, I pretty much resolved not to date anyone who sails the high seas. Gives me motion sickness. (I know, not funny.)
And while I'm on a rant, is it Break Up Season or what? I have been getting phone calls left and right from people who were blissfully in love for the past couple of months, but now he/she turned into a dick/cheated on me/hasn't called me/yelled at me at the bar/tried to kill me with a bar of soap, whatever the excuse. Personally, I think it's a great time to break up - certainly it spares you the agony of having to buy a Christmas present you know they're going to hate anyway. And it gives you a good excuse to drink too much at the company holiday party and hook up with a hot co-worker you've had your eye on (although I wouldn't recommend "getting your meat where you get your bread", I'm just making a point here).
Don't get me wrong - dating someone you really like is great. But let's face it, sometimes it doesn't work out, so your best bet is to wish them well, move on, and embrace the fact that you're single and you don't have to answer to anyone. And as wise Sandy says, "The good ones always come back anyway." Except for Media Maguire. He just keeps coming back because the gods are trying to punish me for poor judgment. My karma sucks.
Six degrees (or less) of separation
So I haven't completely figured out how to master this blog just yet, but as soon as I have time, I will post these links up for good. In the meantime, distract your sorry asses with the following:
The Chief Source: "Chief" runs this blog. It's truly an inspiration. It's mostly political, but every now and then you'll get a fun post (like Votergasm 2004), or some good pictures. (Yes, a picture of me is on the site, reading a Christmas book with someone sitting on my lap.) And ladies, I might add that he is hot, quite nice, and very single. Please check it out; it's a good time.
Southport Squealer: If you love reading hysterical random thoughts, please drop by and tell T-Ray I sent you. If you mention that you like navy peacoats, you'll automatically score points with him. If you mention Fitzpatrick, you'll automatically score points with me. It pays to score.
The Keeler Report: The self-appointed "Final Authority on Politics" is, admittedly, the final authority on politics. Keeler is easily one of the most intelligent people I know, and so in-tune with the current political climate. He has a lot of great points to make, even if I never f$%king agree with any of them. Also, catch him on a good day, and he's funny as hell.
The Revere Minutemen: Political banter on the 2004 election. I went to high school with these people - some I don't really know, some I know quite well. At any rate, it's interesting to read how 10 smart, educated guys can have such different perspectives. Some of the non-political commentary is brilliant (look for the condom vs. no condom "debate").
Happy Anniversary to Me
So today is my 1 year anniversary at work. I like my job, but I'm not going to lie - I feel like it's been 5 years. Shouldn't I get a little plaque or something? Maybe a "Good Attendance" award? It could say something like, "Congratulations for not showing up to work drunk for the past 365 days!" Or maybe like in school, I would win the "Good Penmanship". My handwriting is immaculate!
So far, my parents have called to wish me a happy anniversary and they've threatened to send flowers (threat was thwarted when I threatened to never speak to them again if they did).
How have I been celebrating this anniversary thus far, you might ask? Well, it started when I slept through my alarm and got to work at 9:55 am (first time that has EVER happened, I swear), and then by having a new one ripped over a mistake I didn't make on an account that wasn't mine. Congratulations to me!
What's on iPod rotation?
I am dependent on three things in life: my cell phone, my iPod, and Yoo Hoos (chocolate malted milk is great).
That said, I will share with you what is on the current iPod playlist, since I am one of those annoyingly musical people who feels that there is a song for every emotion. Oh yes, put a few drinks in me and I will karaoke anything, since I seem to know more about song lyrics than US states. Embarrassing, but true.
Let Go -
Garden State soundtrack (the whole soundtrack is AMAZING - highly recommended)
Blame It On Me - Barenaked Ladies
Destiny - Zero Seven
World on Fire - Sarah McLachlan
Vivrant Thing - Q Tip
Bigger Than My Body - John Mayer
Candy Everybody Wants - 10,000 Maniacs
Do Your Thing - Basement Jaxx
I Wish - Skee Lo
The Way You Move - Outkast
Lapdance - N.E.R.D.
Lincoln Avenue - Train
I think I'm going to switch up the rotation tomorrow and make a new playlist.
The Good Girlfriends
I just had the best night, having just come home (four glasses of wine and still sober?) from dinner and drinks with Sandy.
Sandy is the type of friend every girl should have. She's fun, and in a crowd, people gravitate to her like moths to a flame. But hanging out solely with her is even better. She really calls it like it is, and doesn't bullshit you for the sake of being polite. She totally believes in you, even when you don't necessarily believe in yourself. And she thinks I'm pretty (always good to have a friend in your corner in the Looks Dept.).
Over a nice dinner and drinks at the "tip of the 'Cock" (the John Hancock building, that is), and among plenty of other issues, we had a discussion about "Scary Sexy". "Scary Sexy" actually came up when we were discussing someone in particular, but it really is a general type of guy (think Benicio del Toro, or Jack Nicholson, for anyone in the Viagra crowd that might be reading this). This is the guy who has an overarching creepy look about him, but is somehow completely mesmerizing, and you would totally do it with him. I think women really go for Scary Sexy because once you lock eyes with him, it's a total mystery - you're not exactly sure if he's going to thrown down and take you, or kill you. Ahh...the thrill of the chase.
After three hours of complete laughter, I am at home, winding down. Tomorrow night involves an industry event happy hour, which should be good times. Let's just hope my tolerance decreases radically before then.
My Weekend
So, this past weekend, I returned to the old stomping grounds to hang out with the family, run some errands, and cause trouble.
Over the course of the three days I was home, the following occurred:
a. Ran into "an old friend" who I, quite honestly, dug for about two years. I always suspected that I would never really stop liking the guy, but in a fresh, validating twist of fate, found myself questioning why I had liked him when I saw him again. He's an okay person, and still smokin' hot, but it's funny what a little hindsight will do for you. Yikes.
b. Saw Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason...with my parents. (For more on Bridget, see post below.) It was a little strange watching the "racier" scenes nestled in between my mom and my dad in the theater, but since I couldn't go with my sister or
Tim (my favorite movie partners), they had to do.
c. Inadvertently screwed things up with the aforementioned guy I actually
liked. Ran into him (hey, there are only so many bars) -- while I was out with another guy. Proceeded to make drunken fool of myself. Drunken foolery documented by about 50 people at bar who somehow know me. I would regret it, but then if I regret it, he should regret f&$king things up with me because I'm a f&%king great girl. So there.
d. Heard profession of love from another, different ex. Was very nice, and quite flattered, aside from slight embarrassment that profession occurred in crowded bar and included phrase "I will always love you." (cue up Whitney Houston) Still don't really know what to do with this one. Complicated.
e. Bought new knee-high black boots. It's getting cold, and I tend to get a little down in wintertime, so developed healthy habit of buying new pair of knee-high leather boots. Knee-high leather boot count currently at 5 pairs and counting.
How was your weekend? Feel free to comment on this, or any other posts, by clicking on the "x comments" link at the end of each post.
This guy is for real.
This is Mark Darcy. This is the man of my dreams. I have never been much for the fairy tale, but after watching the Bridget Jones sequel this weekend, I have to admit - publicly - that I am completely in love with a movie character. Mark Darcy is not full of shit. He's a real go-to guy. He doesn't express feelings he doesn't really have just because he thinks you want to hear them. He will wear ugly sweaters his parents gave them just because he loves his family. And evidently, as witnessed in the sequel, if he loves you, he will bail you out of the slammer in Thailand even though he suspects you slept with his arch enemy and doesn't know why you were caught with a fertility bowl full of cocaine. Although he wears a constant expression of constipation, you just
know he's a real wildcat in the bedroom. Admittedly, I looked up Colin Firth's website (Firth plays Darcy in the movie). I found out he's happily married with a kid, but should that little family thing not work out for him in the end, he'd better ring me up ASAP.
Sometimes Slapping in Public is Merited
So I flew back after a weekend back home. As exhausted as I was at 7:00 am, with a flight and a full day of work ahead of me, I managed to bear witness to a ridiculous interaction.
A man and his wife were standing in front of me in the security line. The man went through the security "tunnel" without any trouble. The wife then walked through and was stopped by the TSA woman, who told her she had to take off her shoes. The woman, obviously tired and not paying close attention, looked completely confused for a moment...until her jackass husband yelled (and seriously YELLED), "Take off your DAMN shoes, you moron!"
If my future husband ever spoke to me that way, I think I would slap him in public.
Profile: Jerry Maguire
So each week, I've decided to profile a new type of guy/girl out there who is f%$king up the dating scene, one person at a time. I'm not trying to be a downer here, because that's not really my style, but I truly believe that people can fit into neat little categories of assholes, and I am here to call them out.
Ladies, beware of "Jerry Maguire". I decided to start with Jerry, as there seem to be a lot of people in my life lately who fall squarely into this category. Jerry Maguire is the ultimate salesman - everything from his 50 tubes of pomade in the bathroom to his 1,000,000-watt smile politely screams, "I am going to close the deal, and as soon as I get you, I'm going to get sick of you and drop you on your ass."
Jerry is usually very into his work. I actually saw an ex-Jerry last week, who wasn't even in the media industry in which I work the last time I saw him, selling his network and working the room at a charity event. On my way to the (cash - awful!) bar for another chardonnay, I walked past him and had the misfortune of having to make pleasant conversation with him. He kept picking my brain about who I knew and who I didn't know, but my mind kept flashing back to him serenading me with Extreme's "More Than Words" on the guitar (I know, I am hit with a wave of nausea as I recalled that), and the fact that I've seen him naked. Immature? Maybe. But better than listening to him talk about business, and himself, and his business, and himself? Absolutely.
Jerry is also very into himself. He loves thinking about: himself, his work, what he's planning next, who he likes to associate with, and whether or not he should change his hair. Oh, and if he's a more "mild" Jerry, he might be selfless enough to think about what you think of his hair. Maybe he'll even ask you out loud - before he answers his own question.
Jerry is dangerous for a number of reasons. He will woo you - at any cost, and usually because he earns enough to afford "any cost". He will make lots of plans as well - within a week you will be trying to figure out what to wear to his grandparents' 50th anniversary (don't sweat it - you'll never go). He will tell you that you are different from any other girl he's ever been with. And then - when you're least expecting it - he will drop you so hard you'll be spinning faster than a college freshman who just drank a fifth of 151. (Although that might actually just kill you, but you get the point.) Usually, he'll drop you because -- well, honestly, he needs some more time for himself. To pursue other interests. Like chicks. That aren't you.
Jerry is a tough guy to deal with, because you won't see the warning signs. He is the "syphilis" of the dating world, so to speak (although quite frankly, I only know this from having read those pamphlets about "the silent killer" at the doctor's office).
Some Jerrys, like the movie, grow the f%$k up and figure out what they really want. Some of them keep at it until they decide to settle down with the first sub-par nighttime bartender (or accountant) who "accidentally" forgot to take her pill. Either way, if he had you at hello, don't let him have you at goodbye. This guy sucks.
If "He's Just Not That Into Me", has anyone ever been?
Okay, so most of you know me, and therefore know that I am a few weeks out of a relationship. I won't say much about it, other than the fact that it ended sucked, mainly because I actually
liked the guy. This is sort of an anomaly in itself, because I usually realize about a week after the relationship's end that he's a moron and I tend to bounce back faster than the elastic on a fat girl's bra strap, but this time it seems to be different.
Regardless, my sister sent me this book that has been all over Oprah and is hailed as the new single girl's bible. It was written by the writers of "Sex and the City" and entitled, "He's Just Not That Into You."
My sister sent me this with a note, saying "Mom told me to send you this...it's funny, in that painful sort of way." I read the note and think, "How painful could this possibly be?" So I saved it for last Sunday (laundromat day), and once the clothes were settled into the washer, I sat down to read.
Each chapter details the types of excuses women make for men, and how many (if not most) of these excuses seem to add up to the inevitable conclusion that "he's just not that into you". Doesn't call? He's not that into you. Gives you his number? Not that into you. Needs "space"? Not that into you.
Let's just say that after 40 minutes of reading, I was glad there weren't any sharp objects in sight, because while feeling totally enlightened to the male species in a way I never had been, I simultaneously felt sad and pathetic, because I came to the inevitable conclusion that I'm not sure any guy has "ever been that into me". Let me tell you how depressing this thought really is.
When I told my sister how I felt after reading, she laughed and reminded me of a guy I dated for a couple of years in college. She said, "Don't you remember? You broke up with him, but he was completely crazy about you." I replied, "Well yeah, but I think that intense, manipulative midgets being the wrong guys was implicitly mentioned somewhere in Chapter 10..."
I think I am having too much fun with the wrong guys. At least I admit it.
Thanks for Reading
Hi, welcome to the site! I have to admit, this is sort of strange. I haven't really made much use of the Internet since I made a mock web page about a mitten factory for an IT class in college, but since my good friend
Chief started his own, unbelievably good blog, I have been itching to take this step, so thanks for taking some time out to read - I hope you enjoy it.
Instead of focusing on politics; however, I am taking a dramatically different turn. (And you would get the politics reference if you clicked on the link above, so go ahead and do it before I punch you in the face.) This blog will chronicle single life in the city...indefinitely. At least until I meet someone normal. Or they reduce "flag pull" on cab fare to under $1.00. And with that criteria, I might be posting forever.
My personal life, which you'll learn more about, has always been...well, a bit dramatic. There always seems to be a lot going on, and there are always a lot of eggs in the basket, so to speak, but I think I am a pretty good represenation of the young, single female sample. And after creating theory after theory, and advising male friend after male friend, I think it might be easier to post this all in a blog and save everyone a little time. So here we are, shooting straight from the hip, no bullshit.
If you're still reading at this point, just want to remind you that there is a comment board listed after each post, so if you do read something that really resonates with you, I welcome -- and encourage -- comments. That said though, please limit all Naughty Girl bashing to my personal email address
here, and I will be sure to take my time constructing a rude response. Until then, enjoy.
