The Ramifications of Being Blonde

Farewell for now...

2006-07-18T16:25:00.000-04:00

I've kind of disappeared lately, I know I have, and it's for several reasons. It is true that I have been incredibly busy and I still do not have internet which doesn't help either. But somewhat recently someone tried to interrupt my life by trying to use my other more personal “blog” against me. It's not even a blog really, at least I've never called it a blog, b/c its sole purpose has always been a means of communication for me and my closest friends who don't live in the immediate area. Some of my best friends are from Central America, and whether they are in the US or back home it's how we keep each other updated on our lives when we can't always talk.

I don't really know what this person was trying to accomplish, it didn't really work, but it has unfortunately made me re-think blogging, at least for the time being. I don't really want to say too much more about this. I will say that I am fine and am not in any sort of trouble, I never wrote anything that could ever get me in any legal trouble because I'm too smart for that, so I don't want anyone thinking that's the case. The other blog was just me ranting about more personal aspects of my life with friends I've had for years who did the same thing. I mean we've all had this blog thing going since like 2004, so it chronicled events and emotions associated with events such as me graduating from college, the death of my grandmother, and getting over my first real heart break, with a lot of blonde booziness in between. I am not ashamed of anything I’ve ever written in there (with perhaps the exception of the completely incoherent drunk post here and there, we all know how much I love the computer when I'm drunk) but someone decided to try to get me in trouble for it regardless of the fact that it never caused anyone harm and was solely a place for me to vent my feelings.

So in short, the situation has succeeded in spooking me to the point that right now I don't really feel comfortable writing here anymore. Maybe this is bad and I should be more of the "fuck them if I'm going to let them run my life like that" mindset but due to certain circumstances I just can't right now. I don't want to get into details but all fingers point to a somewhat mentally imbalanced person who has tried (and at times succeeded) to cause me harm in the past (read: over 6 months ago) and who still enjoys reading my 2 blogs several times a day, every day, over 6 months later, despite the fact that they know I can see each time they visit due to the site meter things. I plan on continuing to read the fascinating bloggers I've encountered during my short stint in blogworld, and maybe soon I'll find out that I'm being overly precautious and will feel comfortable here again. I certainly hope so.

But until then I can only say that I don't understand why people can't just mind their own business and leave others well enough alone. Why can't people focus on making themselves happy, instead of trying (and failing) to make other people miserable? Wouldn't it be more productive to focus your energy on bettering yourself and your own life, instead of focusing on trying to sabotage someone else's? I will never understand people who purposely try to cause others pain, and for no better reason then that they are just plain miserable themselves. Even if I'm wrong and the person I suspect was not responsible, I still don't understand why people who have nothing to do with me or my life feel the need to try to cause me problems for no real reason whatsoever. I’m sure this person will read this, and I commend you on your cowardice and thank you for the results this situation has given me, I assure you I have profited greatly from the experience, both fiscally and emotionally.

I have always really appreciated the comments, insight, advice and anecdotes people have left me over time, it has thrilled me in so many ways to know that people actually wanted to read what I had to say. I thank you all for that. I know it sounds corny and emo, but let's face it, I have a ridiculously corny and emo side, and that side of me feels the need to go all Hallmark and thank you guys for touching my life. Yeah I said it, the most golden of Hallmark messages, I so totally went there. I really do hope this is just me being neurotic (also a good possibility) and that once things settle down I will feel safe here again, but until then I wish everyone the best. Maybe I'll make it to a happy hour some time in the future...

Feel free to email me at theblondemenace@gmail.com.

I am too busy to breathe these days...

2006-07-11T09:48:00.000-04:00

I've had a lot going on lately and once again have been MIA. I think I may have mentioned before that I don't have internet in my apartment, so I can only blog while at work or if I use the business center in my building. Yes, you read that correctly, I don't have internet in my apartment. GASP! No I am not a cavewoman. My computer is all sorts of messed up and barely works, so until I get it fixed I see no point in paying for a service I will hardly be able to use. I also don't have cable. EEEP!!! GASP AGAIN!!! I want to get the two at the same time; one of those packaged dealios, because I seem to be under the impression that getting the two together will save me money. This may or may not actually be true. Besides, I'm used to it now and to be honest, I kind of like not having cable or internet sometimes. I feel as if I read more now than I ever did when I had constant access to the two, and I spend more time doing things that contribute to a happy Menace, like painting and cooking and various other Martha-esque activities. It's easy to get sucked in to tv and the web when it's constantly available to you. Especially when you have an abnormally comfortable couch that just swallows you whole like I do. (One of the benefits of your parents moving to Florida is getting some of their old furniture.) I plan on getting my computer fixed within the next week though, as I'm itching to start using my new Ipod.

Anyways, work has been crazy lately so I have had little to no time to read people's blogs, and no time at all to update my own. I really don't like my job anymore and my supervisor's last day was last Friday, so I am somewhat miserable here. I made him a delicious cake that combined wasabi, ginger and chocolate. In case you were ever wondering, Japanese horseradish does in fact taste scrumptious when paired with chocolate. I have a job interview on Thursday which I hope goes well despite the fact that I feel slightly (read: VERY) under qualified for the job, and even if it doesn't go well I'm just happy to have the experience. Hey if anyone has a job opening for a Blonde who likes to get drunk and bake tasty treats... Hook a girl up.

Watch out, I'm GRUMPY

2006-06-30T10:50:00.000-04:00

I am so fucking cranky. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is irritating the crap out of me right now. I feel like smacking quite a few of my coworkers. I feel like breaking a wine glass or two. I feel like complaining and cursing about things that are pissing me off. Lucky for me I have a blog, and blogs are perfect for bitching and whining about things you have no control over. Hell, they're perfect for bitching and whining about things you do have control over too.

We had a barbecue lunch in my office on Wednesday. There were shitloads of leftovers, so everyone took food home. I'm trying to eat healthy food these days, so I saved a bunch of barbecue and rice krispy treats for the Boy. Since I knew I would see him yesterday after work I left it in the office fridge overnight so I wouldn't have to take it home then bring it back. Yesterday morning I entered the kitchen to find a certain coworker helping herself to my rice krispy treats. I was immediately annoyed, as I can be quite territorial and as far as I'm concerned you don't fuck with other people's food, but I just laughed as she moaned about stuffing her face with MY krispy treats and nonchalantly mentioned that they were actually mine and I was saving them for Boy. I understood that she didn't realize that they actually belonged to someone, she probably thought they were just leftover from the lunch and free for the taking, despite the fact that they were hidden behind things and wrapped up in foil and not on the counter where we usually put communal food. I wasn't rude, I simply informed her that I hadn't felt like taking everything home with me then having to bring it back, and I wrapped up the goods and hid them behind more stuff in the fridge. She suggested I write my name on it, but I scoffed at this because I think this is ludicrous. What is this, fucking kindergarten? Should I start keeping my food in my Lion King lunchbox in my fucking cubbyhole? When did it become ok to just help yourself to anything in the fridge? If we usually keep the communal food out on the counter or the kitchen table so people can help themselves, then what on earth would make someone think it was ok to help themselves to stuff that was clearly wrapped and tucked away in the fridge? And why the fuck are people going through the fridge and unwrapping all the foil-covered items anyways? There are tons of foil-covered items in our fridge. No one knew I had put my portion of the krispy treats in the fridge, someone had to be a nosy little bitch and start unwrapping shit that obviously wasn't theirs, as if it's ok to just help yourself to anything in the god damned fridge. This is absurd to me. Fucking absurd. But whatever, I was happy to have salvaged some of the treats and left it at that.

Tell me why I went into the fucking kitchen in the afternoon and someone had laid out MY FUCKING RICE KRISPY TREATS on the counter WITH A GOD DAMNED KNIFE and tell me why THEY WERE ALL FUCKING GONE?!?!?! Oh the anger, the soul-gripping maddening anger. I fucking hid those behind a lot of shit. Someone fucking went through the fridge and helped themselves. I can’t help but think that this was a pre-meditated attack on my treats. Yes I realize that I'm complaining about freakin rice krispy treats and that this is retarded, BUT IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE SITUATION PEOPLE. If someone hides an unlabeled foil-wrapped item behind a whole lot of stuff, what on earth possesses a person to push everything around, retrieve said unlabeled ball of foil, open it, AND THEN FUCKING EAT THE ENTIRE CONTENTS??? WHO DOES THAT?!?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?! It's disrespectful, that's what it is, and it FUCKING MADE ME MAD.

You know what else pisses me off? People who ride the metro during rush hour and lean their entire body on the poles as if they need to straddle the god damned thing with their body in order to not fall down, subsequently leaving no room at all for any other riders to hold on to said pole. FUCKING POLE HOGGERS DID YOUR PARENTS NOT TEACH YOU TO SHARE? You are riding a crowded ass train and other people need to hold on to something too. This is not fucking Camelot's, you may or may not be a stripper, I really don't give a rat's ass, but rush hour is not the time for freakin pole humping. You only need one hand on that pole, maybe two, and you need to stand a fair distance away from it so other passengers can hold on to it too. And if someone almost falls over and as a result grabs the pole you are rubbing up against to keep from falling down, don't just stand there, MOVE THE FUCK OVER BITCH!!! My fucking hand is now uncomfortably lodged between your back fat and the pole, don't tell me you don't feel me there because I sure as hell feel you and I'm NOT LIKING IT ONE BIT. It seriously boggles my mind. I mean I understand that the metro during rush hour is not the time to be worrying about people entering your personal space because it's basically unavoidable but come on, I don't like touching random strangers and I don't like them touching me. I swear, people have no fucking common sense these days.

Oh the angry rants continue. I've been seeing too much Starbucks shit everywhere recently and it's been pissing me off. There is one in Union Station. There is one in some random hotel like 2 blocks away. And supposedly now they are opening another one a few blocks away from that one. I. HATE. STARBUCKS. The place has given me bad feelings since I first encountered this yuppie coffee phenomena upon moving to the US at 16. I never really knew why, it was one of those "something's not right here" feelings you get in your gut, and hell if I know why but Starbucks gives me that feeling. Then I became all "liberal" and "activistish" at around 18 and got involved with Students for Justice in Palestine and some article was circulated that confirmed my dislike of the company and I started boycotting it, which of course wasn't hard b/c it's not like I went there much anyways. Of course now it's "cool" to hate Starbucks because they're a huge "evil" multinational, but I don't prescribe to that particular argument as I think that's a load of pinko commie horse shit. I do however agree with those that criticize their treatment of coffee workers. I for one don't think the sweat and blood of a million underpaid workers makes for tasty coffee, so I will continue to silently seethe every time I see that ugly green medusa logo thing as new freakin' Starbucks keep popping up within walking distances of each other. And I will not, no matter how cheery and lovey and "YAY-IT'S-CHRISTMAS-I-LOVE-EVERYBODY!!" I get, come the Holiday season I will not succumb to their evil attempts to get my money by buying any stupid eggnog chai. I curse the person who introduced me to those, b/c they are delectable and contain some sort of liquid crack because the urge to drink them is so strong it has on rare occasion overridden my extreme hatred of the place. This makes me fucking hate them even more. The whole eggnog thing covers up the sweat and blood taste pretty well. Of course, chai isn't coffee. But still. I don't want my dollars going to that tool-bag company.

I am also incredibly annoyed that I am missing the Argentina-Germany game, and I’m even more fucking pissed because they had to go into extra-time and I’M FUCKING MISSING IT!!! That and I HATE ARGENTINA and Germany better fucking beat them or I just might throw something.

Oh I’m such a grumpy bitch today. I only got like 3 hours of sleep, leave me alone.

Ok fine I'll post what few pics I have

2006-06-28T12:40:00.000-04:00

Ok I don't have a lot of pictures. My computer is currently in a coma, so I haven't been able to upload the pictures from my digital camera onto the computer, which means my digital camera is now in a coma, so I rely on the cameras of others or my trusty little camera phone.

I have a number of pictures of the lovely cupcakes, which I took before I was too drunk to remember that my camera has a phone. (Sometimes I forget.)

I have recieved a few from party goers who had cameras, but not many, I am expecting (hoping?) for more.

This is what I have, or rather, this is what I have that I managed to post before Blogger started being a pain in my ass and I got frustrated and stopped.

My friend's apartment has horrible ventilation or something, b/c it gets so hot and stuffy and sweaty regardless of the fact that the air had been on the whole day, and I have yet to recieve any of the pictures that were taken pre-drunken dancing, so I look a mess in these photos. But aren't those just the prettiest cupcakes you ever did see?

Weekend Review

2006-06-27T16:57:00.000-04:00

Oh man I have lots of catching up to do.

My Champagne and Cupcakes Celebration was a huge success. Every single person I have spoken to thus far seems to have enjoyed themselves immensely, and this puts me over the moon. I clearly had a blast, and it makes me feel even better about having had such a great time to know that everyone else had a blast too.

But let me not get ahead of myself. My birthday celebration started off with my parents on Wednesday night. We had lobster and they spoiled me by giving me a 60 GB video ipod, and a pink frying pan. Can you believe that? A PINK frying pan!!! My mom kicks ass. Both of my parents gave me the same birthday card. It says something on the front and on the inside it says “You’re fabulous!” This amuses me to no end.

The celebration continued at Lucky Bar at 9 in the morning on my actual birthday with I-66. I waited until after 10 to start drinking beer because it just didn't seem right to start before that. We lost. It was fun, but sad. I stayed to have one last beer after I-66 left and ended up meeting all these random guys who upon discovering it was my birthday began buying me birthday beer and shooters. Yup, I was drunk by like 3 pm. So I went shopping at H&M, then hurried home so I could get ready for dinner with the Boy by 7 pm. Yeah, I was late. Late and drunk. I was trying so so hard not to be a dumb drunk bitch, but seeing as I had been drinking since like 10 in the morning it was kind of hard. I felt so bad. Oh and I know I spoke to Ninja Man at some point b/c I still have his copy of the Express, but it's a bit hazy, I don't know if I was coherent or not. Supposedly I was going to meet up with some girlfriends in Adams Morgan after dinner but instead I went home b/c I realized that I was too drunk to be going out and drinking more. So I went home and cried a little because (A.) I was almost home when I realized that the heel to one of my favorite pairs of shoes had fallen off at some point, and I couldn't figure out when or where b/c I never tripped or anything, I seriously just noticed that my heel felt like it was sinking and I looked back and was like "WTF?!?!?" and (B.) I was pissed at myself for getting drunk before what was supposed to be a special birthday dinner and of course I also didn't bake any cupcakes, so I wept a little before passing out on my couch watching Casino. (Clearly I am the kind of girl you want to take home to Mom.......)

I managed to wake up early, of course I was passed out by like 11 so I guess this makes sense, and I was only a little hungover so I made tons of gorgeous cupcakes, all pink of course. My party was such a huge success, pretty much everyone I invited came, or everyone that mattered anyways, and we all just danced and drank champagne (or beer) and ate too much sugar and it was fabulous. I had even bought a bunch of fake plastic tiaras at the party store, I should have bought more b/c they were a huge hit, apparently I'm not the only girl who likes to wear sparkly princess crowns. We then went to Citron, but it was packed and nasty and sweaty so Boy and I peaced out. My fabulous leopard shoes were killing me so he let me wear his shoes and went barefoot, aaaww CUTE!!!

Overall, this was seriously the best birthday weekend ever.

And now I'm looking forward to getting smashed while watching Brazil whoop some dirty French bastards in this Saturday's game.

Soccer anyone?

2006-06-21T17:02:00.000-04:00

Anyone planning on going to watch the USA/Ghana game tomorrow? Anyone by any chance going to Lucky Bar? Anyone want to meet up with a Menace (provided she gets out of bed, it is her birthday morning after all) and watch the game?

Oh, almost forgot: This is HILARIOUS!!!

AMERICA, FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!

2006-06-20T10:29:00.000-04:00

So I had what had to have been one of the most craziest, unexpected and insanely bizarre weekends of my life. And I'm not even exaggerating or being a drama queen like usual.

It all started because of World Cup Fever. I blame it on soccer. Ok, and beer. Ok and inexplicable chemistry between two polar opposites that makes no fucking sense whatsoever.

I have been being friendly with a particular ex-boyfriend who I have mentioned in passing several times. (This would be the one who likened my drunken antics to an NFL linebacker. Also the one whose sister and I don't seem to get along.) I've said it before and I'll say it again, we really make each other laugh like crazy, so I thought we could do the friend thing and you know, just be chill like that.

Have I ever mentioned before that sometimes I am the dumbest blonde in the history of blondes? Ever heard that joke, about the emergency at the mall, when the escalator broke down and a blonde got stuck for hours? Or how about the one where the blonde got stuck on the roof? You know, because she heard drinks were on the house? All these blondes getting themselves in crazy situations. I'm pretty sure these are all based on me and the various insane and/or stupid situations I manage to get myself into on a seemingly regular basis.

I was conversating with said ex-boyfriend over the internets while bored at work last week. We were talking about how we both wanted to watch the USA v. Italy match at a fun bar, but neither of us had anyone to go with. Somehow this inevitably led to us agreeing to go together. Part of me was skeptical, largely because I knew booze would get involved and it did occur to me that this had the potential to be a very dangerous equation. But I guess I just figured that we were mature adults who were above drunken escapades and that we could just, you know, BE CHILL. (I'm not going to start talking about how I'm a dumb blonde again despite it's relevance to the last sentence I just wrote.) So we agreed to meet around 1 and headed to Lucky Bar to catch the end of The Ghana v. Czech match and try to find seats (hahaha yeah that didn't happen) for the 3 pm USA game.

The bar was packed, the atmosphere was great. I-66 wasn't kidding when he described the goosebumps and good feelings one gets as an entire bar sings the National Anthem. If you can imagine a somewhat large bar with about 3 "floors" filled completely to probably twice its legal capacity if not more, all singing the National Anthem and chanting "USA", boy it was an amazing thing to be a part of and I am so glad I got to experience that. I also have to give mad props to the person who came up with the idea to start singing the Team America World Police theme song. It is a unique experience in its own to be in a bar full of drunks all screaming, "AMERICA!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!" at the top of their lungs. Oh if only I had had a video camera, it was priceless. I kind of want to go back for Thursday's match but it's at 10 am and A. I won't have anyone to go with that early, B. It's my birthday and I might want to sleep late, C. I have lots of preparations to make for the Champagne and Cupcakes party on Friday and if I get drunk watching a soccer game at 10 in the morning I will be out of commission for most of Thursday. So I can't decide what to do.

Anyways, back to Saturday's game. Between the two of us we drank about 4 pitchers of German beer. Needless to say, we were both drunk. It was hilarious, and more fun than I've had in a while. Between the friendly insults exchanged with our neighboring fascist Italian fans who kept threatening to steal our beer and the laughter we shared over the fact that the ex was actually rooting for America for once (he's a leftist pinko commie, so it's a bizarre thing), it was an all around good time. If it weren't for the fascist Italian soccer players who felt the need to overact and just be plain corrupt match-fixing fascists (albeit gorgeous ones) I think we could have beat their asses, I was surprised at how well our team was doing, especially considering we were playing 9 to 10 towards the end. Of course, I also haven't played or even really watched soccer in years and had little to no faith in our team, so what do I know. Oh yeah, and I had about 2 pitchers of beer in me. And I just like screaming "FASCISTS!!!" at people. Oh and I did just read that De Rossi wrote a letter of apology for elbowing McBride in the face. Asshole.

But yeah, the inevitable happened. The drunker we got, the more flirtatious we got. Except instead of harmless drunken making out, which I have to admit I thought was a possibility, it led to an incredibly serious and emotionally charged conversation that has since left me in a bit of a shambles. Basically I am now faced with some even more tough decisions about what I want his role in my life to be, and I am more confused than a republican gay man.

I have since started a dialogue with myself about whether or not one can actually be friends with an ex. I am starting to think that perhaps there are some exes that you just cannot be friends with. Well, I guess it's all circumstantial. I've managed to stay good friends with the only other ex in my relationship history that actually matters besides this one, but he was a FOB who moved back to his country in North Africa like 3 years ago and hasn't been back since, so that kind of made it hard to be anything but friends. But I can honestly say I have no feelings for this man whatsoever, and even if I were to see him I don't think it would rekindle anything at all. Now as for the current ex, clearly he and I are not at a place where we can just be friends, and it makes me wonder if we ever will be. I've known him for 3 years and we have tried to date twice in that time period, basically failing miserably each time. Maybe we didn't wait long enough after our last break up to try to be friends? Or is there really some sort of inexplicable pull that keeps bringing us back to this? If there is, should we embrace it or ignore it? Will the third time be the charm? When is enough enough? I wish I could answer these stupid effin' questions.

To the few loyal readers that I do have, what are your thoughts on friendships with exes?

On plastic bags and things that sparkle...

2006-06-16T13:47:00.000-04:00

I've been kind of MIA, sorry folks.

I've had a lot on my mind lately and have been feeling very restless and somewhat cranky. I think I'm being all weird and introspective partly because my birthday is next week and I'm getting older and this is freaking me out again. It's making me question my goals and my dreams and all that generic stuff. That and I'm kind of having boy issues. But not really. See it's weird like that. It has me feeling slightly confused. And slightly helpless, slightly enamored, slightly disappointed, slightly contented, among a host of other feelings I wasn't quite prepared for... It’s making me feel a little overwhelmed because it all kind of came from nowhere, and I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself. On top of this work kind of sucks right now. (Although I did get to serve Pascal Lamy coffee, which made me feel a little star struck.) Aside from that I have spent the majority of the week taking undeserved shit from a coworker and searching for a new job, which combined with everything else has left me feeling somewhat uninspired to do much, write much...

Although I did see a really funny old lady yesterday that made me laugh, and also made me ponder a number of things. She is basically me in 50 years, I swear. There are a fair amount of old people in the building I live in, and I've seen this lady once before but was so amazed by what I saw that I think I half thought that I hallucinated her, but yesterday I had the pleasure of riding in the elevator with her. She's the kind of old lady that has reached that age where she just doesn't give a fuck about what anyone thinks because she won't be around much longer, like that whole wear-red-hats-and-purple-dresses thing, I don't remember what that's called. But yeah this lady couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall and was wearing what had to be the largest and tackiest neon pink sunglasses I have ever seen. They were of course framed with nice sparkly plastic rhinestones, for extra glam effect, and with these glasses she had on a bright pink knitted poncho and pink ugg boots. She was also carrying a pink leather clutch, and the flowers in the pattern on her skirt were, wait for it... Pink. It was quite a sight to behold. I decided she was fabulous immediately. I told her I liked her purse and asked her if pink was her favorite color, and she got very solemn and said, "Oh yes, of course, I do love pink." I smiled and stroked the pink yoga mat I was holding and told her it was my favorite color too.

It made me very happy to see this lady wearing all these fashion don'ts all at once for the sheer fact that it pleased her to do so. In my opinion, this elevated all of her perceived fashion no-no's into one big fabulous yes.

It also made me think about youth, and the similarities I see in extremely young and extremely old people. Maybe this is a silly observation, but it seems to me that really young children and really old people care less about what other people think about them then everyone else. Children, until they reach a certain age, often do/say/wear things just because it makes them happy. They don't realize that some things are frowned upon in society or that some things might get them laughed at and they continue to do as they please until they reach that age where they suddenly notice that people can be mean, they develop the desire to "fit in" and subsequently cease most behavior that made them previously stand out. Not to say this is always the case. But I know that when I was around 3-5 years old I went through various phases involving animal noses, 7 dwarfs costumes, star-shaped sunglasses and pink elbow length gloves most commonly worn with a blue pill box hat (complete with purple veil) and a white faux-fur stole. I wore these things all the time, everywhere, and when I say everywhere I mean EVERYWHERE - to the point where I was somewhat infamous on the tiny island we lived on, or so I'm told. Apparently my mother's attempts to dress me like a normal little girl were futile. (Seems I've always been more stubborn than a mule.) But I digress; eventually I got older, went to elementary school, and at some point realized that I would get made fun of if I wore a tiara to school every day. So eventually I guess I just stopped, despite the fact that wearing glamorous fake jewels and pink gloves obviously made me incredibly happy. One could say I just grew up, or grew out of the phases, but seeing as I still love wearing tiaras and jewelry and sparkly things in general I don't know how accurate such statements would really be...

Then I see old people like this fabulous pink lady, or my grandmother, who do and wear what they please b/c they don't know how much longer they'll be on this planet and have stopped caring what anyone has to say about their actions. My grandmother is going to be 90 in September. I have never met someone so intent on living life to its fullest and for that reason she is my hero. She taught Latin for years and didn't retire until she was in her 80's, and the only reason she retired was because she felt that she was traveling too much and not devoting enough time to her job. Some of her recent trips include a cruise to Antarctica where she went for a swim (a bit chilly she said), a trip to Mongolia simply b/c she'd never been, a D-Day tour of France and England, a trip to Austria to celebrate Mozart's 250th birthday, a trip to Nepal where she rode an elephant around the base of Mt. Everest (a little bumpy), a trip to Dubai (whose luxury she found rather gauche) and the list goes on. She is currently planning some conference for this club called the Ninety-Nines, which is an organization started by the first women pilots ever (of which she was one) and she's doing this while planning her 90th birthday bash in between frequent trips to Manhattan to see every opera and play known to man. She does all this because it makes her happy. Her answering machine message is hilarious, her little voice crows through the phone, "CARPE DIEM!!!" every time you call and she's not there, which is frequent. If you happen to be stuck next to her on an airplane/train for an extended period of time I guarantee you she will find out your life story by the end of the flight. She doesn't care what anyone thinks. She took me to lunch yesterday and got lost on the way to my office and soon had 2 different random strangers using their cell phones to try to find me. She carries a plastic bag in her purse for leftovers; in case she eats something "divine" and wants to take the rest home with her for later (this is the woman who paid for my Cotillion and my debut, if you can believe that). She also doesn't care that her 22 year old granddaughter does find this last particular trait a tad bit embarrassing when she tries to pull it out in The Oceanaire. She's beyond the point of caring in the slightest what people think and if her actions could be interpreted as tacky, the point is that she does it simply because it makes her happy and content with life and I think that's just grand. (Although you won't see me carrying around a plastic bag anytime soon, but you have to admit it does take balls though.) It’s as if you reach a certain age and just realize that you don’t have to care what anyone thinks, that it’s ok to live your life for you, as long as you don’t intentionally hurt anyone in the process and are smiling at the end of the day. Maybe you lose the fears that we all have that keep us from doing the things we most want in life because you realize that death really can interrupt your life at any given moment, and I imagine that’s a bigger fear to deal with than, say, fear of traveling to such-and-such place b/c of how it might interfere with your career or something.

I don't know, I guess my point is that it seems to me that really young kids and really old dudes know where it's at. Everyone has bizarre quirks, why not embrace them and celebrate them? Why wait until we are old enough to die at any given moment to do the things that make you happy? I may sound like a generic commencement speech or a Hallmark card right now, but I know I have a good point.

So if you see a blonde in leopard print shoes and a tiara next weekend, it’s probably me so introduce yourself and take a birthday shot with me....

Of missing penguins and nicknames...

2006-06-09T14:57:00.000-04:00

Ok someone just left me a comment that said my blog was mentioned in the Express? Has anyone seen this? If this is true does anyone have it, and can you save it for me? When was this? I didn't know about this?!?!

Our internet has been down for the ENTIRE DAY. It just now started working again. We already had next to nothing to do today b/c most of our staff is in the Midwest at this conference thing, so oh my Lord has it been a slow and boring day. I was so mad b/c I really wanted to spend the day catching up on reading everyone's blogs b/c yesterday was actually really busy, but I doubt I'll be able to before the day is done. I'll try to catch up with everyone over the weekend if I can. I was so bored that I wrote 2 posts, I was going to post them both at once and do a 2 for 1 thing, but that would make this the longest post in blogger history so I'll save one for later. It makes me look really pathetic anyways, or more so than usual at least, as it was a description of an incredibly frightening encounter I had last night with a silverfish that turned into a saga longer than the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. I don't handle bugs that have inhumane amounts of legs very well, I'd say I react much the same way I do to vomit, and while the situation was indeed a horrible one in my eyes, my dear friend Shay who happened to be on the phone with me throughout the incident was rather amused. I for one am still exhausted, because after the incident I could not go to sleep without the lights on. I think I'm a tad irrational at times.

This has nothing to do with anything but I am just so beyond excited right now that I am sharing this with anyone who will listen because I have a big mouth like that. I'M GOING TO THE ZOO TOMORROW!!!! I love the zoo. I am seriously giddy with anticipation, I can't wait to visit the hippos and otters and they have a new baby kiwi bird!!!!! EEEP EXCITING!!! I am going with the AIM Boy, and I think we are going to cook dinner together afterwards and watch movies, so it should be a really good day. Now, I haven't been to the zoo in like a decade so I don't remember much, but the website seems to be telling me there are no penguins. I'm hoping this is a mistake, because a zoo that doesn't have a penguin house disturbs me to my very core. This is another arrangement that I would usually blame on some crackhead, but I seriously doubt that our former Mayor had anything to do with this so I will keep my mouth shut.

Anyways, so I mentioned how we have this conference thing going on out in the Midwest. One of our producers called here this morning looking for some information. I answered the phone and before I even finished my standard greeting he goes, “Hey Trouble. So I hear you got the interns drunk.”

Now this man has called me “Trouble” ever since I met him when he came to a conference here in DC last fall. I was very close to the intern who was with us at the time, and she and I were taking full advantage of the open bar at an event our office hosted. We had about 6 producers following us at any given time, bringing us drinks and trying to convince us to go dancing after the event. This was where this particular producer started referring to us as “Trouble 1 & Trouble 2.” I seriously don’t know how I get these nicknames, I wasn’t drunk that night, I had only been working here for a month or so and I didn’t want to get sloshed in front of my coworkers, yet this man could see through my composed, professional demeanor and called us both out on what we really wanted to be doing with all the free wine. You know, getting sloppy drunk.

So he calls here and immediately starts in, “Oh yeah I heard all about you taking those interns out drinking. I didn’t even ask about you they just offered up the information.”
“But Mr. --------, as a native Washingtonian it was my civic duty to take them to bars. I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” He then confessed that he was out drinking with them the night before, because this man is as much trouble as I am.

I don’t know what it is about me that seems to make people want to call me all these bizarre nicknames. Just last night I spoke to one of my closest friends and most favorite people ever, and the minute she answered the phone she says to me in an excited tone,
“Ok, so you know how people come up with acronyms for everything?”
“Uh... Acronyms?”
“Yeah, you know, like acronyms for stuff.”
“Uh... Yeah, I guess so...” (A smile starts creeping on my face, this girl is such a hippy stoner, she comes up with the craziest ideas, I love her.)
“Well I totally came up with the perfect acronym for you last night when I was trying to sleep, it like just came to me.”
“Me? An Acronym for me? What is it?”
“You’re my FNB.”
“FNB?”
“Yup, FNB.”
“What does it mean?”
“You’re my Fabulously Neurotic Blonde.”
*Brief shocked silence followed by lots of laughter.*
“I figure that most of your neuroses stem from your fabulousness so it’s perfect. I was pretty sure at the time that it was ingenious but it was really late at night so then I thought that I might just be crazy.”
“No, it’s definitely brilliant.”

So now I can add FNB to the list of nicknames I have been given throughout the course of my life. I have had several, the one that has stuck with me the most is “Fabulous F------,” (the ----- representing my real name), which I believe started b/c of my first serious boyfriend when I was 18, although it could have been b/c of my gay friend who I went to prom with, or maybe it was some combination of them both, I don't remember. Of course there is also the Blonde Menace, and the man who came up with that also used to call me Hurricane Blonde. In Nicaragua it was La Chela (the blonde) or La Gringa Loca (the crazy gringa). Those two actually stuck around too, I still get called Chela by some of the friends I keep in touch with. Well, there was also La Gringa Rappera, which was the result of a not so small obsession I had with the Notorious B.I.G and Lil’ Kim that I was somewhat known for amongst my peers... Oh geez and at one point when I was in sixth grade the entire 4th grade called me Sparkly, which did eventually spread to some of the other grades as well. (Elementary school in Bolivia was 1st through 6th grade.) This was my Mom's fault. She taught 4th grade and for some reason (that I still to this day do not understand) she felt it was appropriate to share some stupid childhood story of mine about how I swore I was the 8th dwarf (You know, Snow White and all that) when I was like 4 and my name was Sparkly and I refused to talk to anyone unless they addressed me as such. God I am such a crackhead. And now I am the Fabulously Neurotic Blonde. Oy.

On being ridiculous and eating chalupas...

2006-06-07T12:24:00.000-04:00

So I got mentioned on Wonkette on Monday and traffic to my humble little blog exploded yesterday. I'd totally be lying if I said that didn't make me feel supercool for the majority of the day. Ok fine I still feel pretty supercool, even if traffic is basically back to normal now. Thank you Wonkette Editors, you made me feel like a Bad Ass Blogger indeed.

Except now I feel like I need to write only supercool stuff and secretly, deep down, I'm not very supercool. I'm kind of a dork. I mean I am a fabulous dork, but I'm still a dork nonetheless. A neurotic one, that likes her booze.

Do you know what is NOT supercool? The DMV. Guess where I get to go tomorrow? Yeah. I have to register my car in the district.

I have been putting off this daunting task for some time now, since I moved into my apartment in January to be exact. I'm not really sure if my car is currently registered anywhere or not. Someone told me once that if your plates are not expired, then your car is still registered in whichever state your plates are from. I've been kind of relying on this information as being truthful regardless of whether or not it really is, because clearly I have no idea. It has occurred to me that if I wanted to I could google this and find out if it is valid. Of course, the fact that this thought has not really crept into my mind before this very moment combined with the fact that I am not actually going to google this information should stand as testimony to how much I really care about registering my car. Meaning, I don't. It's just such a looooooooooong process, insert-whining-hereeeeeee. Well, it's not so much that I don't care... I think it probably has more to do with the fact that on occasion I can be more stubborn than a mule when faced with something I don't like one bit.

I tried a few times. I went to the DMV. I waited in line. I found out that I have to have my vehicle inspected and I need to get a DC license first. No problem. Or so I thought. It seems that in DC there is only one inspection location. No, you can not go to just about any gas station as we civilized Virginians do. You must go to the one and ONLY inspection station in the entire city. Now I don't know the reasoning behind this, but I strongly believe that this is the kind of arrangement that only a crackhead could come up with. Given whom our former mayor is, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. (And no, I don't actually know whether or not Mr. Barry really had anything to do with this ludicrous system, but he's a crackhead and therefore I shall blame him anyways. Yeah it's like that.) I don't care how "small"this city is. This is ridiculous and to me is simply more proof of the incompetence of DC government. Or government in general, but I'm not trying to go there.

So anyways, this station also happens to be located on the "other" side of the tracks, so to speak. During my first few years in NOVA people would always warn me: "DUDE don't ever get lost in SE/SW man, you'll like totally get mugged and shot you know." Whether or not this is actually true is beside the point, the fact is that people often refer to SW and SE as the ghetto, and if one is told this repeatedly then the stigma can get hard to shake and subsequently neurotic anxiety-ridden worrywarts like myself will get freaked regardless of whether or not there is actually any need to be. Like I freaked the one time I did attempt to go to the inspection station. I took the morning off from work with the goal of getting there early and getting it over with. Well, then I slept late, actually, this has happened several times, me taking the morning/day off to register my car then sleeping late and getting lazy and never actually making it there that is. But anyways, I made it there this one time, not until around noon or so of course, and the line of cars stretched around the block and down quite a ways. I drove around a little and immediately got freaked out about waiting in line in this "dangerous" area for an extended period of time. I do realize how incredibly ridiculous this is, and looking back I don't seem to remember thinking the area was all THAT shady looking, but of course when you've spent most of your life in under-developed third world countries you don't always find things as shady as people who have not had similar experiences to you do, so who am I to judge DC-shady, as opposed to say, slums-of-Nicaragua shady. I mean shit man if you compare pretty much any part of DC to a barrio in Nicaragua I'm guessing you'll find things a lot better off here, but what do I know, I'm just a dumb blonde half the time. Anyways all I know was that everyone tells me this area is Shady with a capital S and I didn't feel like waiting around in my car for a few hours to find out. So I did what I had to do. I went through the drive-thru of the Taco Bell next door for a chalupa and some Dew and peaced out.

But yeah, tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will get my damn car inspected and I will wake up EARLY like the responsible adult that I am and I will get things accomplished. 10 am seems like a reasonable hour to wake up...... Ok maybe 10:30.......

On sitting on Porsches and obnoxious asshats...

2006-06-05T13:13:00.000-04:00

So we finally got some good corruptible interns here at work. I took them to Adams Morgan on Saturday and we all got drunk. My friend Chad came with us and we spent the night bouncing around between various random bars and then ended the evening in Jumbo Slice. The end of the evening is somewhat of a blur, I remember sitting on a Porsche outside of Jumbo Slice despite the fact that everyone was all "OMG DON'T SIT ON THE PORSCHE!!!" but in my drunkeness I decided that only a douche-bag would park his Porsche in front of the Mecca of drunken behavior (Jumbo Slice) and therefore deserved to have it sat on. I think one of the interns took a picture, it's probably a scary one. For some reason the cops blocked off the street so cabs couldn't get by, so we had to walk somewhere to try to find a cab. I say "somewhere" b/c at that point I really had no idea where we were. All I know is my nice new leopard print shoes were killing me so I was walking barefoot through the streets of Adams Morgan, complaining about how I was going to have to boil my feet when I got home to sanitize them. It took like 30 minutes to find the interns a cab, we were competing with a rather obnoxious fellow who kept trying to run to the cabs before we could. After getting the interns in a cab I finally found one after like 10 minutes and sure enough, the obnoxious fellow and his friend decide they are going to share the cab with me. The friend of Obnoxious Guy somehow saw the wallpaper on my phone (which is wierd b/c I wasn't sitting close to him or anything) which happens to be a picture of me in a pink trench coat shooting a rifle, and he then decided that he was in love with me. To the amsuement of the cab driver they tried so hard to get me to go home with them. Somehow I ended up giving the friend my business card, I don't know why b/c I wasn't attracted to him that much, I think I'm still just thrilled that I have my own business card so I am too eager to offer it up when asked. Anyways, so they figure out that they know people who live in the same apartment building as me. They start asking what apartment I'm in. I wasn't about to tell them, so they decided to tell me not to worry, that they would find me, all they had to do was knock on every door until I answered, or follow me in to the building. I'm sitting there, drunk, thinking to myself how fan-fucking-tastic it is that I am forced to share a cab with these assholes who are now threatening to stalk me, and how the hell do I get myself into these situations, and finally we get to my place. Both guys offered to pay for my portion of the cab fare but for some reason I decided to pay myself, I think I felt bad that the cab driver had to put up with so much obnoxious drunkeness. So anyways, I was about to get out of the car when Obnoxious Fellow, who was sitting in the front, turns around and starts reaching for me and starts saying something about me "sucking some cock." I then proceeded to flip the fuck out. "HOW DARE YOU TALK TO A LADY LIKE THAT!?!?!!! DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU TALK TO LADIES THIS WAY? DOES SHE KNOW YOU USE SUCH FOUL LANGUAGE WITH FEMALES? DO YOU DISRESPECT WOMEN? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT??! YOU DISRESPECTFUL MOTHERFUCKER HOW DARE YOU!!!! I LET YOU IN MY CAB BITCH!" The wrath of a drunk Blonde Menace is scary. It's all a blur, but clearly it didn't occur to me that this man was trying to grab me, I was just so appalled at his bad manners that I sat there and screamed at him. Looking back, I'm somewhat surprised that the cab driver didn't do anything, although I'm not sure what he could have done. I tried to grab my business card back but was not quick enough, so I started yelling at him to give it back, so he ripped it and gave me 1/4 of it, so I screamed more, so then he gave me 1/2 of what was left. He looked like he was going to cry. He was trying to apologize for his friend I think but I was not having it. I then proceeded to run into my apartment building as fast as my newly blistered feet could carry me.

Needless to say I now find it all very amusing. Nothing like yelling at someone for disrespecting a lady and using FUCK as every other word while you're doing it. Ladylike indeed.

I am currently trying to grow some balls and call Elizabeth Arden to set up an appointment for a Brazilian bikini wax at some point before Saturday. I am being a chicken shit about it. Oh the torture we girls put ourselves through for boys.

Of Crankiness and Pooches...

2006-05-31T14:12:00.001-04:00

So my friend told me that Craigslist has a great “free stuff” section. Granted this friend is also a bit of a hippy and likes to dumpster dive, I figured there’d be no harm in checking out the section. She knows I’m looking for a dining room table and that I don’t want to spend a lot of money on one because I’m probably going to strip it and stain it myself anyways. Yeah, I’m crafty like that. Anyways, I was surfing around the free stuff section and was incredibly appalled to see that people use this section to try to get rid of their pets. People are offering up their cats and dogs and hamsters, free for the taking to anyone who responds. I find this incredibly disturbing. It infuriates me. Actually, I think I’d go so far as to say it instills in me a semi-homicidal rage that makes me want to take a baseball bat to the offenders and shove it in certain areas that don’t see much light of day. How can anyone just give up a pet like that? How can anyone make the conscious decision to get a pet, which is in my eyes like welcoming a new member to your family, and then just offer it to anyone through a website? I mean I realize that sometimes things happen in life and circumstances change and sometimes it really can’t be helped and you must give away your pet. I should know, I had to give my kitten to my parents, and I miss him every day. But I had to give him to my parents because I had a roommate who had a bad relationship with honesty and told me I could have him in our apt. before I moved in, (otherwise I wouldn’t have moved in) then went out and bought a ridiculously expensive couch, and comes to me all “will your cat scratch the couch?” Duh bitch, he’s a little mischievous kitten always up to no good, and no I can’t afford to reupholster your Bauhaus couch. Then I had to move very suddenly (again, thanks to her bad relationship with honesty, morals, etc.) and had to find housing quickly. By that time my kitten was so used to being with my parents that it would have been cruel to take him back, after he had gotten used to a huge house and lots of company all day I couldn’t very well bring him into my empty studio apartment. I wanted him back very badly, but had to do what was in the best interest of the cat, and that was to leave him with the parentals. Well now that I think of it I guess it wouldn’t have made a difference anyways b/c the apartment I ended up moving into doesn’t allow pets, but I wouldn’t have brought him with me if it did. Wait, my point is, that while I realize sometimes shit happens and you can’t keep your pet and not everyone is lucky enough to have parents nearby that love animals, but don’t get a dog then realize suddenly “OMG I’M SO BUSY I HAVE A LIFE” and go on effin’ Craigslist to give it away all whining about not being able to pay enough attention to it b/c you are just that in demand. Oh and you want a home for your 20 year old cat? Did he get too old for you? Jesus, we are talking about pets, not a sofa, not a kitchen appliance, not something that you go to use when you have the time or trade in for a better model when you get bored. They are living, breathing, loving bundles of smelly poochy kisses and furry kitty paws that love you and when I see you trying to give it away on CL b/c you don't have time for it it makes me cry and I don't like crying at work. Fucking asshats. I just feel that offering your pet up for grabs on Craigslist because you no longer have time for it is disturbing and this is my blog, so what I say goes.

I’m horribly cranky today, in case you haven't noticed. The same Boy responsible for the dirty AIM conversations kept me up on the phone until around 5:30 in the morning. Oh look at how quick I am to blame him, I stayed up willingly as clearly I really enjoy talking to him, it's just that I usually wake up at 7/7:30 and such severe lack of sleep has me seeing double. Stupid job, getting in the way of my social life like that. I set like 8 alarms because I knew that once I did fall asleep I would have a hell of a time getting up in less than two hours, and as I suspected would happen, I did in fact manage to sleep through all of my alarms and was late to work, although not horribly late so only my supervisor noticed. This Boy is a trouble maker and I love it.

Stupid Flower Companies

2006-05-30T12:18:00.000-04:00

Well apparently I can still find something to bitch about in the face of sadness.

I am trying to find some nice and tasteful flowers to send to my friend and her family. All I want is a simple bouquet of white lilies. That's all. Nothing flashy, nothing huge, just a handful of white lilies in a simple vase.

I do not want white lilies in some vase that has silver crosses all over it. I do not want a bouquet that is bigger than me that will cost me my first born. I do not want "Tropical Tribute" or "Ray of Sunshine" bouquets. I do not want anything that has ribbon tied around it that has the word "comfort" printed all over it. And "Tender Thoughts Teacup"... Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke? Do people actually send these? Are there a ton of morons in the world sending these bouquets in sympathy and therefore making them in higher demand and easier to find than a simple vase filled with white lilies? Who are these people? Do they breed? And more importantly, can we stop them?

Seriously, if someone sent me a floral arrangement that was tied with a ribbon that said "comfort" all over it, I think I would throw it at a wall.

I do not want to attempt to take away your pain through flowers. I cannot fathom the pain you are in, and I'm not going to try to act like I can make it better by sending you a Peace Lily that has a fucking ribbon wrapped around it printed with the word "comfort." (Clearly this particular arrangement really disturbed me.) I am not going to send you some bright and frothy melange of flowers in an attempt to "cheer you up". I do not want to send you a plant that will live on long after the funeral that you will now be faced with the responsibility of caring for, that may or may not remind you of how you aquired it every time you water it. I just want to send a simple, plain bouquet that informs you that I am sorry for your loss and that you and your family are in my prayers. Just tasteful white lilies. That's it. And of course I can't find this simple bouquet ANY-FUCKING-WHERE. If I see one more "tasteful" arrangement of floral vomit with a name like "Teary Tulips" or some shit I will scream.

Sadness

2006-05-30T09:22:00.000-04:00

When you spend your weekend witnessing the kind of raw emotion usually seen only in movies like Mystic River, your sense of humor kind of dissapears for a while.

My best friend lost her father this weekend and witnessing her pain caused in me a kind of heart break I am unfamiliar with. For this reason I don't feel as if I have much to say about the world, except for incredibly sad observations about life and death and how it affects people, as all else seems somewhat trivial to me at the moment. I would rather not write about such things. And bird poop and delusional ex-boyfriends are pretty damn insignificant in the grand scheme of things, so I'd rather not write about any of that nonsense either.

Forgive me if I dissapear for a bit.

The STOO-PID List

2006-05-26T08:48:00.000-04:00

Oh it's just lovely to get to work and realize you posted while drunk last night, and it's even more lovely to barely be able to understand your own post. I didn't even think I was that drunk, geez.

Anyways, various events that have occurred this week have inspired me to compose a list. The STOO-PID list. A list of various stoo-pid things I have done this week, or have been done to me, or I have seen done.

1. DON'T GO ONLINE WHEN YOU ARE DRUNK. STOO-PID MENACE!!! You do not have extreme literary talent, despite what you may think at 2 in the morning after several Goose and tonics. What you write will make little sense to anyone, including yourself, when you realize you posted the next morning. And the only interaction you seem to have with Thursday night's doorman in your building has been while you are on some sort of substance. You do not need your apartment building thinking you are an alcoholic floozy. STOO-PID!

2. DON'T CHASE KAMIKAZE SHOTS WITH A DOUBLE GOOSE AND TONIC!!! I don't think I need to elaborate here. STOO-PID!!!!

3. DON'T LAUGH AT YOUR BEST FRIEND WHEN A BIRD SHITS ON HER HEAD!!! Because a bird will shit on your foot while you are waiting for your sushi on your lunch break. Can we say karmic retribution? STOO-PID!!

4. DON'T HAVE X-RATED AIM CONVERSATIONS WHILE AT WORK!!! Not that any of the old fuddy-duddies in this office even know how to find said conversation on the main computer brain thing, but knowing me and my luck I will get found out and will get fired and a scandal will ensue and my sex life will be plastered all over the news: "Blonde Fired for Dirty Talk on The Company Dime!!!" I can see it now. STOO-PID!!! (But a very VERY fun stoo-pid, nonetheless.)

5. DON'T TRY TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THAT SHIT WAS ON THE GROUND THAT YOU WALKED BY ON YOUR WAY TO WORK! Because when you realize that it is vomit and start to emit little screams and take off running, PEOPLE WILL THINK YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD!! STOO-PID!

6. DON'T CLOSE THE METRO AT MIDNIGHT ON A THURSDAY! Some of us can't wait until Friday to get krunk. Some of us are semi-recent college grads who like to pretend like they are still in college and don't have Friday classes. Some of us are under-paid office assistants who need the metro to be running when they stumble home at 2 in the morning so they don't spend $15 bucks on a fucking 5 minute cab ride. CAB ZONES IN DC: ALSO VERY, VERY STOO-PID. Oooh. Flashback from last night. DON'T YELL AT COPS, OR CALL THEM "DUDES." Those cops did actually have every right to honk at the cab driver for stopping in the middle of the street to let you in. Yelling "DUUUUDES I HAVE TO GO HOOOOOME I HAVE TO WAKE UP AT 7 MAAAAAAAN!!!" will not change the fact that no cabbie should stop in the middle of the street. And when the cop tells you this don't go "BUT DUUUUUUUUUDE" and whine, just shut up and get in the cab. STOO-PID, STOO-PID and STOO-PID. And makes me wonder if I should still be saying "dude" at 22. Probably not.

7. DON'T APPROACH A GIRL BY SAYING "YOU REALLY NEED A GUY LIKE ME" and then proceed to tell her your family owns the largest dry cleaning company in DC as if you think that is going to impress her. Do not proceed to ask her and her friend, a dozen times, if they have heard of said dry-cleaning place, b/c chances are if they said no the first time you mentioned it that just might mean THEY'VE NEVER HEARD OF IT!! DO NOT FOLLOW THIS GIRL THE WHOLE NIGHT AND RANDOMLY POP INTO HER CONVERSATIONS WITH OTHER DOODS TO TELL HER THAT YOU LOVE HER. YOU DO NOT KNOW HER. Flattering, I suppose, but STOO-PID.

8. DON'T STEAL MY FRIEND'S PURSE AT SUBWAY BECAUSE YOU ARE A DOUCHE-BAG-NO-GOOD-TEEN. What are parents teaching their children? When did it become ok to behave like total assbags and not have a conscience about it? Is it because I grew up in very Catholic countries in Latin America that I have this thing we call "conscience" and feel guilty even when I drown a gnat in my bathtub? WTF??? STEALING?? WTF!!!!?!?!?!?! It boggles my mind so much that it leaves me speechless, and I tell you, that's rare.

9. DON'T COMPLETELY DISREGARD SOMEONE ELSE'S FEELINGS JUST TO GET A LAUGH. This is perhaps the winner of the STOO-PID award. Don't decide to play a "joke" on your brother's ex-girlfriend because you are a dimwitted immature idiot who is bored at work and can't think of other ways to entertain yourself. Just don't. It's childish, cruel, creates unnecessary drama, and if you are finally in college then you should act like it. Don't respond to kindness with cruelty. It's like kicking a puppy for God's sake. If you contact me and I tell you that I am happy to hear you love college and that I hope you have a nice summer, don't be an asshat about it, just accept the fact that someone just said something nice to you in response to your stupid joke and leave it at that, why go out of your way to make the person (i.e. ME) feel shitty and stupid? I really can't wrap my mind around it. Catty queen-bee behavior belongs on the playground, and apparently, so does this chick. Double STOO-PID: DON'T LET YOUR SISTER DISRESPECT THE FIRST WOMAN YOU HAD A SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP WITH, WHO YOU SUPPOSEDLY LOVED VERY DEEPLY. She may not be perfect, but neither are you and she loved you so very much and only ever wanted to make you happy, just because you guys weren't meant to be doesn't mean you have to be an ass. Respect what was at one point in your lives a beautiful thing and leave it at that. SSSSTTTTOOOOO---PPPPIIIIDDDD. And mean.

10. DON'T LET STUPID BITCHES GET TO YOU. STOO-PID. Sometimes you can't help it, but try to accept the fact that there are a lot of twisted people in this world and learn not to let it bother you. You will never understand what motivates some people to act in ways that are clearly harmful to others. Be it a silly ex's sister, an old roommate (or like 3 old roommates if you have exceptionally bad luck like me), or some random dude, you will only get weighed down if you allow every mean person who crosses your path to hurt you. And if you do get hurt, acknowledge that you have just encountered a stoo-pid beyotch and be glad that you aren't the kind of person who behaves like a stoo-pid beyotch. Make like Plato and do your best to be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle. And take kamikaze shots with your girlfriends while toasting "fuck stupid bitches" and be thankful for the wonderful people you are blessed to have in your life.

Of Evil Pigeons and Bird Poop...

2006-05-23T11:38:00.000-04:00

I don't like the birds at Union Station. Correction: I don't like the seagulls. I don't like them flying about over my head and squawking and doing whatever bird-like things it is that they do. Birds poop at random, and I know in my heart that one day I will be walking along, minding my own business, and one of these wretched Union Station birds will poop all over me and my Blonde hair. Where the hell do they come from anyways? Are we THAT close to a body of water that seagulls need to claim Union Station as their own? My supervisor just told me that seagulls live everywhere, regardless of your proximity to large bodies of water, that they live near garbage. I thought they only lived near the SEA, I mean why the hell else are they called SEAgulls? Is this a blonde moment I am having, or have other people believed this misconception to be true too? I don't think I've ever seen seagulls in Manhattan. There's lots of garbage there. I mean yeah it's an island and all, but I feel like seagulls only belong near docks and boats and shit. Not that I'm looking for them when I'm in NYC, but I think I would have noticed them if I’d seen them, I think it would have seemed odd to me. Pigeons, now those little fuckers rule that city. I was almost attacked by a one-eyed pigeon once, but now that I think about it, I think that was here in DC. Pigeons in NYC are brutal, they probably have a dictatorship that exiles seagulls. This is besides the point, but I think it would be really cool to train a flock of pigeons to do your evil deeds. Like give them some bread and then say "Pigeons: Boss, now" and off they go to poop all over your boss or ex-boyfriend or something. That would kind of kick ass.

Anyways, this was going somewhere. Ah yes, I was driving a while back with my sun roof open, just relaxing to the catchy pop tunes of our favorite child molester of yesteryear (Jacko, duh), and it occurred to me that it could be possible that a bird could poop and still hit me through my sun roof. This seemed highly unlikely to me though, because what are the chances that a bird's poop would fly through the air at an appropriate angle at the precise time your car is driving underneath, so the poop would then fly through the tiny hole in the top of your car, and land precisely on your head? What are the odds of that happening? Slim to none, at least that’s what I thought until this morning.

One of my best friends texted me around 10:30ish: "I had my sun roof open in my car just driving down the road and a bird shit on my head. I am repulsed."

After I laughed hysterically at her expense it dawned on me that what I thought was hardly possible had in fact just happened to someone I know. It is possible. And if it's possible that a bird can shit on your head through the sun roof of a moving car, then surely those of us who like to walk to Union Station on our lunch breaks are doomed.

In other non-poopy news, I think I am going to order customized pink m&m’s that say “fabulous” on them for my Champagne and Cupcakes party. I can’t think of anything more ridiculous and fantastical.

Of Mid-Mid Life Crises and Cupcakes...

2006-05-22T11:37:00.000-04:00

In exactly a month from today I will be.... 23 years old.

*Cue dramatic music and blood curdling screams*

While I realize that in all reality this is really not that old, but given that half the time I feel like I'm still a clueless flat-chested-zit-faced 7th grader this does in fact feel REALLY REALLY OLD.

Regardless of whether it’s true or not, I feel like the decisions I make now are the ones that are going to shape the rest of my life, and this gives me all sorts of anxiety. Perhaps it’s because I still don’t know what I want to be when I “grow up”. Maybe I’m just overwhelmed because I have so many interests and women have so many options these days and there are so many things I could do with my life and it all gets me slightly confused and flustered to think about and when I get confused and flustered I tend to get anxiety which leads to panic because I’m just that high strung like that. Why, just last week one of my closest friends told me she really thinks I need to start smoking more pot because I’m too high strung. I don’t think I’m THAT high strung. Maybe just a little.

My Mother was married when she was 23. I also realize that in this day and age it is no longer the norm to be married by 22/23, but it doesn’t change that fact that she was married when she was my age and it makes me think about when marriage is going to be a relevant topic in my life. Despite my drunken tendencies I actually have a strong maternal streak, one that rivals those of Jewish mothers, or so I’m told, and part of me wants to get married and start having babies. Little girls with little curls that I can dress up in patent leather mary janes and lacy socks and pinafores and all that nonsense. Little blonde devils, oh how adorable. I should start babysitting again, that’ll remind me real quick that I don’t want kids. I have friends that are engaged, some that are already married and some who already have kids. I swear it seems like just yesterday that this one girl and I were taking buttery nipple shots at Ozio and getting trashed, and now she’s a mom. Moms shouldn’t drink buttery nipples, something about it just seems wrong. My last boyfriend mentioned marriage, not to me mind you, just marriage in particular, and I freaked out. He said his Dad was married at this age too and that he thought he should be married in like a year. I proceeded to panic, then hyperventilate, then break out in hives, and we aren’t together anymore.

I don’t even know what career path I want to take. Obviously I loathe being an office assistant, but I haven’t really made any serious attempts to find a new job because I have no fucking clue what it is I want to do. I did want to be an event planner for a while, but now I think I want to be a chef. I love to plan parties and I love to cook. But I don’t like to work for people. I have problems being told what to do. There’s a voice inside me that says “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” for no other reason than I just don’t like doing what people tell me to. It makes my ass twitch. Ok, and usually I’m right and they are wrong so my way is usually better anyways. I am more stubborn than a donkey on crack so when I don’t want to do something it becomes a long and languorous process and a never-ending battle of procrastination. I am the procrastination queen I tell you. And I suck at keeping my mouth shut and my opinions to myself. At our staff meeting this morning it was my turn to tell everyone what my tasks were for this week and I almost said “myspace, facebook, blogs, shopping” just because. I need a new job. I have all these fantastic business ideas, but starting your own business needs mucho money that I don’t have.

I also want to do the whole “backpack around Europe” thing, except I don’t make enough money right now to really afford anything except for hostels, and if you know me, then you know hostels just aren’t an option. (Even more so after that ridiculous bloody movie.) My Arab ex-boyfriend wants me to meet him in Spain for the summer and all I’d have to pay for is the ticket. This is one of those terrible ideas where you tell yourself it’s secretly a good one, like a good idea in wolf’s clothing or something, but deep down you know it’s probably one of the stupidest things you could ever do. I’d end up kidnapped and it would be “Not Without My Daughter” all over again.

Ok that’s it I’m starting to give myself a mid-mid-life-crisis-panic-attack thinking about it, enough of this subject.

The only thing I do know for sure is that for my birthday I am going to crowd as many people into my studio apartment as is comfortable and throw a huge Champagne and Cupcakes birthday celebration and get everyone drunker than a Kennedy.

On Hurling and Lesbian Night....

2006-05-18T15:57:00.000-04:00

I drove to work today. I was almost killed by two different metro buses and a cement truck. Oh and a dumb bitch in a beetle. I.HATE.METRO.BUSES. How's that for emphasis? I hate dumb bitches too, but not as much as I hate metro buses. I really do feel that I have become a happier person since I stopped driving to work, as the events of this morning proved to me.

Why did I drive to work today you ask? Because I feared for the lives of the people on the metro that's why. And why would I need to fear for such a thing? Because I woke up this morning a whole new shade of green, and did not feel that my stomach could handle the metro. Now you're wondering how this could affect the lives of metro riders. Obviously I was feeling hurlacious, but if you think hurling is nasty, and chances are you do, you will never be prepared for Menace hurling.

See I have an irrational fear of vomit. It's true that it mostly applies to other people performing this atrocious act, but I don't react well to my own vomit either. If someone else yaks, or if I hear/see/smell it, I freak out to absurd and abnormal proportions. Usually I hyperventilate and take off running in whatever direction gets me farthest away from the source of the offense, there have been occasions where I've come close to passing out. I didn't ride a rollercoaster until I was like 15 because I was afraid someone would barf on me. I realize it's ridiculous so I don't need you to point it out to me, thanks. You know what happened to me my very first night in my dorm my freshman year of college? A dude puked all over my legs. It wasn’t pretty. I have successfully blocked most of the incident out of my memory completely.

But anyways, when I vomit it is accompanied by a whole slew of dramatics that include wailing, moaning, coughing, crying, groaning and yes, hyperventilating. It is the most painful experience in the world to me. I would rather get 40 shots in my ass then have to vomit, ever. Ok maybe I'm exaggerating a little, I don't think I'd like 40 shots in my ass either. But because God likes to mock me (read above incident about my first night in college) I have the queasiest, most irritable stomach known to man. This means I hurl a lot. ESPECIALLY after a night of boozin’.

Ah, booze. Here I am revisiting this topic, AGAIN. I swear I am not usually such an alkie.

See I ended up drunk last night. This was not the goal mind you, the goal was to hang out with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while to catch up. The setting was Gazuza in Dupont. Ridiculously overpriced sushi and martinis were had by all. The Scoop Nazi from Larry’s joined us. Then hookahs became involved. And shots of Patron. And like 3 goose and tonics. It was safe to say we all became pretty inebriated, pretty quickly, which is why I woke up feeling so hurlacious that I couldn’t even ride the metro for fear of exposing DC to my horrible puke-phobia. Anyways, that Scoop Nazi is one funny motherfucker I’ll tell you what. I feel like I did crunches yesterday or some shit, my abs hurt from laughing so much.

Did I mention that Wednesday at Gazuza is lesbian night? We had no knowledge of this. Apparently my dinner date noticed, but I certainly didn’t. I wear glasses. I need them to see things that are far away. If you are too far away from me then you are a blur and in order to see you I will have to squint a lot, but obviously I don’t do that unless absolutely necessary b/c I don’t want wrinkles at such an early age. Duh. Anyhow, I do not wear my glasses very frequently, in fact I don’t even know where they are at the moment. I really only used them in school or while driving. And I get along fine without them while driving, I don’t care what my passengers have to say about that. That’s besides the point, the point is that I didn’t have my glasses on. And I kept seeing a group of men at the bar staring at me. I wasn’t in vixen mode so I wasn’t too interested, I was all about catching up with my old buddy that night. Then I saw an old friend who happens to be gay who pointed out to me that it was lesbian night. I looked around. The place was packed. With all women. Those men ogling me at the bar? Those weren’t men. Those were butch lesbos my friends. I was ogled by lesbians, and I am so blind that I didn’t even realize it. Needless to say some of the evening’s events made a lot more sense after we realized this. I thought I was just meeting really friendly, outgoing women. Sometimes I am denser than a dictionary.

And now I get to drive home. I swear, if any fucking metro buses cross my car’s path, I might just explode in a blurry blonde rage.

An Alcoholic Linebacker???

2006-05-17T12:43:00.000-04:00

It seems this pitiful blog now has somewhat of an audience, which causes a new kind of performance anxiety I am unfamiliar with. What if what I write isn't good enough for my new readers?

Well if that's the case then I can think of a few choice words for you, and none of them are kosher words at that. There goes my performance anxiety.

Anyhoo, I feel like I should say "Hi. Welcome." or something lame and toolbaggish like that. I don't know what blog protocol is. Is there such a thing as blog protocol? I'm a newbie to the blog world. I am not a newbie to blogs if you consider livejournal a blog, but I don't consider livejournal to be a blog. Livejournal is for when I am being emo and narcissistic and want to keep my friends from high school who now live all over the place updated on the fascinating goings-on of my life. This is different. I keep reading all these neat blogs too and I want to link to them but am not sure about protocol for that either. Do I have to ask someone first before I link to them on my page? Because if that's the case then I'm one lazy mo'fo and I'll end up never having a links section on my blog. As it is I'm being really lazy about figuring out how to set up the whole thing, fucking html, who has the time? The patience? Clearly I am of the brand of Americans that like things quick and easy, b/c html is just mind boggling and time consuming in my opinion. Fast food was made for people like me. Yeah there was that one freshman year website requirement thing that was done entirely in html, but that was a long time ago. Not to mention a royal pain in my arse. Ugh. Screw that. Of course I haven't spent more than 2 minutes looking at how to add links to this page which means I've probably just made myself look like a royal idiot b/c it is probably retardedly easy and I just wrote a whole thing about how it's too complicated for me. Ah well, whatever.

Anyways, so it's only my third post and I'm already writing another blog with an alcohol related title. Sad? Probably.

So I was just chatting with my ex-boyfriend over AIM today and the subject turned to me, or rather, me while drunk. Now, this particular ex-boyfriend and I have a long history. We have known each other for something like 3 years. We have dated twice, both times failing pretty miserably at anything resembling a normal healthy relationship. Yet we have been through a lot together and as much as we may hate each other sometimes there is no denying that we make each other laugh and I figure it can be hard to find people sometimes that really REALLY make you laugh, so best not to let stupid past-relationship drama get in the way of what could be a normal healthy friendship, and one that really makes us laugh at that. At least that's my logic. If you read about my adventure on the baggage claim then you know my logic can sometimes be skewed.

So, back to the topic of conversation, me while drunk. See ex-boyfriend has been there through some rough times for The Menace. The Menace used to have a teensy weensy boozy problem: I went to college and got drunk all the time. Oh, you did too? Well, it seems I have a flair for the dramatic, and this gets UBER amplified while I am incredibly drunk, and by incredibly drunk I mean shitfaced, which is no fun for anyone, including myself. So I was joking around about my last drunk stunt that involved... actually, I'm not going to get into that. So basically he tells me that I remind him of a linebacker when I am drunk. I got confused. While I am a brilliant Blonde there is only so much knowledge my beautiful skull can hold; sports unfortunately falls to the wayside. So he sent me this link: http://youtube.com/watch?v=AatXR6N0xFM&search=footballs%20greatest%20hits

This little video montage is made up entirely of huge ass men in skin tight uniforms plowing into each other. All to the tunes of Prodigy, of course. (Although I have to say I think it would have been far more appropriate to use "smack my bitch up" instead of the song they used) This, to describe me, the daintiest and most lady-like of blondes. Oh the shame, oh the outrage.

And, to add insult to injury, I showed my supervisor, who, after laughing, said, "Yeah I can see that." I need to stop sharing things with my supervisor. I have a big mouth.

Ok so maybe I'm not such a dainty and lady-like blonde. At least not ALL the time. But I hardly think I am out to "destroy things" when I get drunk, as the ex so eloquently put it. So maybe once in a while I get a little klepto and "borrow" lighters from the gas station when I think they aren't looking, and ok yeah sometimes I've made out with a chick or two but you know, who hasn't.... And there was that one time at Citron that got us all kicked out... Actually, now that I think of it, all of my friends have gotten us kicked out of Citron at one point or another, so that's a bad example.

This is actually how I became known as The Blonde Menace. Like many great ideas, it began with booze. I believe it was my dear old friend Khalil who coined the phrase in reference to me and one of my partners in crime, Menace # 2. She and I are are bad news blues when combined, but in the best possible way of course. We are a force to be reckoned with. We have a blast. We get dolled up, we go to bars, and then all sorts of crazy shit happens. Sometimes I don't know how we get ourselves in the predicaments we end up in, but then I remember: oh yeah, we were drunk.

Anyways I had some points I was going to make but got called away from my ever busy job of being everyone's bitch and have since forgotten them.

All I know is it's hard as hell not to drink a lot when all of your friends are blossoming alcoholics. And now that even more of them have graduated from school and are joining the ranks of 9to5er's it only means one thing: more people to go to happy hour with after work.

What is a girl to do?

Join them.

The Lexus and the Anarchist Tree...

2006-05-15T09:30:00.000-04:00

So I have decided that I adore riding the metro. I haven't had a choice in the past few days because my car has been in the shop, but today I opted to ride the metro instead of driving to work. I have decided that driving to work makes me an angry person, and besides, I like to people watch, and I like to do it even more when I have a nice angry soundtrack like Rage Against the Machine blasting from my headphones. I find it humorous to watch all these people looking so polished in their business suits with their briefcases while Zach de la Rocha is screaming "THESE PEOPLE AIN'T SEEN A BROWN SKINNED MAN SINCE THEIR GRANDPARENTS BOUGHT ONE." It entertains me, and as is often the case it doesn't make much sense, but who am I to quit doing something that entertains me?

Anyways, it seems that the advertising companies have taken it upon themselves to start advertising from within the metro tunnels. See, clearly it's not enough to plaster the sides of a Metro car with McDonalds adds, now Lexus and Lincoln have begun advertising from within the dank and dark depths of the mysterious tunnels beneath DC. It scared the shit out of me when I first noticed it, and it happened so quickly that it left me speechless for a few seconds, wondering to myself if I had in fact just seen a car or if I was just hallucinating from being really high and not realizing it. I could tell the guy sitting in front of me was experiencing a similar thing. From the way he kept shaking his head and pressing his nose to the glass, I was comforted to know I wasn't the only person mentally screaming "WTF WAS THAT?!!?!" It's quite brilliant really, it's like those flip books you used to play with as a kid. Well, at least I used to play with them, so I assume everyone has encountered a flip book at some point in their lives. You know, you flip them and the images on each page come to life in a jauntily animated sequence. That's what the adds do. This morning I was able to see some shiny rims on a Lincoln Navigator spin, and I was able to watch some new Lexus go for a leisurely spin down a winding road. I wonder how many people who ride the metro to work everyday would be able to afford a shiny new Lexus or Lincoln. Seems to me it would make more sense to stick with the McDonalds ads, or perhaps wireless service ads or something more useful to the general public. If I could afford a Lexus there's no way I'd be riding the Metro, angry driver or not, I'd be driving that Lexus everywhere man I guarantee it. Shit, I'd live in that car, it's probably roomier than my freakin' apartment.

Ah, life in a capitalist society.

Of functioning alcoholics and the baggage claim...

2006-05-11T11:32:00.000-04:00

So I decided today to start a new blog. It was one of those whims, that just came to me, and here I am, in my blonde and fabulous glory, wasting time at work writing pointless crap that not many people will read.

So anyhoo, I was just in my supervisor's office watching The View with him and the intern. The intern's last day is tomorrow, so I have taken it upon myself to take her to the bar next door for happy hour in a late attempt to get her drunk.

I had been wanting to try to get the intern drunk for a while now, but I am a douche at making plans sometimes so the "office happy hour" I suggested, like, 4 months ago, never actually took place. So tonight I will try to get the intern to take some shots with me. She has already refused my suggestion of shots, but she looked intrigued when I explained what a shooter was, so perhaps I'll get her to ingest some kamikazes.

Why am I trying so hard to get this poor, innocent soul drunk you ask?

Why not?

She's a sweet girl. A sort of old-fashioned farm girl, from a hog farm in Minnesota. We don't have much in common, other than the fact that we both seem to enjoy laughing at me. She laughs at me a lot. Not in a mean way mind you, in a sort of "OMG THIS CHICK IS ON CRACK AND IT'S FUNNY AS HELL" kind of way. I get nervous when people laugh at me like that. I become uber conscious of the fact that she has never quite met anyone like me before and that she is sort of laughing at me in this kind of semi-shocked way, as if she can't quite believe I'm real and that people like me actually exist.

People like me you say? What is a person like me? I don't know. I'm blonde, I like pink, I'm bubblier than Moet, I'm cynical and sarcastic as all hell and I am obsessed with Martha Stewart and everything that entails. I wear my heart like it's the latest handbag and Disney movies make me cry, but if you get me drunk chances are I'll start using "bitch" as every other word and I just might make out with you. Or slap you, you know, whatever is required for that evening's dramatic effect. I am fabulous. My nickname since early college has been "Fabulous + myname." However I will not include my name, which is kind of unfortunate b/c it starts with an F and is the perfect marriage with the word fabulous, but for the purposes of this blog, I am The Blonde Menace. Or Hurricane Blonde, you know, whichever you prefer.

I am the kind of person who required a leash as a child. I remember it fondly, it was orange and plastic and springy-looking. It went around my wrist. You may think putting a leash on a child is cruel, but I can assure you I deserved it. I just shared this story with the intern and from the looks of her reaction, she agreed. I mean it's no big deal, really, I just had an incident in an airport. Who can blame me really. I don't remember all the details, seeing as I was about 2 at the time, but we were in an airport, most likely arriving or returning from Egypt (Daddy was a Diplomat) b/c that's where we lived at the time. I'm thinking I was just incredibly excited to be off the plane, as I have never much liked planes, although I handled them a lot better when I was a child than I do now. Anyways, children should not be allowed to even LOOK at the baggage claim. It's a big fat tease, that's what it is. What child, in their right mind, would not want to get on the baggage claim? I mean come on, it moves relatively fast, but not fast enough to scare you out of your three year old wits or make you hurl, it goes through little tunnels into secret areas that no one can see, it's begging for you to climb on it and join it's circular trip through the airport world. Except no one likes it when you act on your desires and actually jump onto the baggage claim. I should know. I had to wear a leash after I tried this one. My Mother started chasing me, in her heels and dress (people used to dress up to travel you know, it's just how things were done) and I became even more excited because now not only was I on this fun new ride, but Mommy decided to join me and from the looks of it, she wanted to play tag! So I kept crawling around, going down the chute with all the bags, oblivious to the fact that people were freaking out all around me. Cut to the chase: I told you I deserved the leash.

So sometimes I don't have much common sense, and I am very impulsive, and I have problems saying no to myself. I don't always think things through before I do them, I am stubborn as hell, and I do my own thing regardless of what others say, think or do. This was clear back then, and it's still true today. This can be both good and bad. If I'm going to be all happy-go-lucky-my-glass-if-half-full-bitch about it then I'll go so far as to say that it is usually good, because even when it's bad and I do stupid things that make you shake your head and maybe even want to hit me and rip out my lovely golden locks, chances are in a month or 2 (or a year, you know, somethings take time) whatever it is I've managed to do will probably make you double over in laughter if for nothing more than because you'll sit there wondering "what the fuck is wrong with this chick" and then we all have a good laugh at the absurdity of the things that make so much sense in my head that may not make sense to anyone else. Besides, isn't laughter what life is all about?

Well it's also been made apparent early on that I have a slight case of ADD and easily lose track of whatever point I am trying to make because I get distracted by the details and end up telling completely different tales than I had intended. It keeps me on my toes as much as it does anyone else, I assure you.

Toodles for now,

Le Blonde