Pet Peeves

1. Being asked "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" or "How are you still single?" Seriously. It's annoying.
2. Bad manners.
3. Long hair on men. Unless you're Fabio, just don't do it.
4. Socks with sandals.
5. Constant tardiness.
6. People who wear the price tag on the outside of their clothes. Seriously? I don't give a sh** what you paid. You still look stupid.
7. "One Uppers". People that always have to top your latest story...yeah. They suck.
8. Fat children; Chubby is one thing- but obese and waddling around the playground? Shy of it being a medical condition, I think it's literally borderline child abuse. And it's sad.
9. Couples who claim they never fight.(see #13.)
10. Hot men with ugly women.
11. Hot women with ugly men.
12. Baby girls dressed in hideous poofy pink outfits. Taffeta skirts are NOT for girls under 3 or over 16.
13. Liars.
14. Cheaters.
15. Being rude to the wait staff at restaurants.
16. Phone calls from men after 10pm that are not expected or a dire emergency.
17. Girls who wear heels they can't walk in.
18. Guys who try too hard.
19. Being called "sweetie" by a waiter or waitress. "That one actually conjures up a little pang of anger anytime I even think about it."
20. Dumb Sluts (referred in posts as DS.)
21. Guys who act as though they're way cooler than me. Also known as "Bro's"
22. Name droppers. Usually those folks are guilty of #7.
23. Animal abuse. (This is not meant to be funny. I'm literally repulsed by it and those who do it.)
24. Getting ignored by female bartenders. (Bitchy attitude = NO TIP)
25. Bad customer service.
26. People who hate America.
27. People who hate the military.
28. Faith Fanatics (FF).
29. A dirty bathroom.
30. Women (or men) who apply makeup while driving. That's scarier than texting In My Fabulous Opinion (IMFO).

31. Panty Lines (PL's).
32. White shoes BEFORE Memorial Day and AFTER Labor Day. (Being southern- this is ESPECIALLY frustrating since 90% of women just completely dismiss this fact. They just think "Warm weather = white shoes". NO! )

Moms with regrets

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some “Holly’s World”, “Kardashian’s Take New York”, “Fashion Police” and even a little “16 & Pregnant” at times. Not because I find it genuinely beneficial to my life or educational…but because it’s entertaining and passes the time on the treadmill or at work. Sometimes I even wind up feeling really good about myself because I don’t look like I dunked my head in peroxide, I didn’t look awful on the red carpet, or that I didn’t pop out a kid at 16.  I wouldn’t record these shows and nor would I spend a Friday night catching up on missed like I plan to do this coming Friday with my absolute favorite ABC shows. But as I sit here at my desk, delaying the 5 mile run I really need to accomplish tonight, a new show has appeared on the screen and I can’t help but to stare in horror.

     What’s the name? It’s called: “My Kid Is Gonna Be A Star”. What image pops in to your head? A sobbing 4 year old wearing more makeup than a Vegas show girl with an overweight mother sitting next to her wearing a disappointed expression. What actually came on the screen were a series of rode-hard-put-up-wet looking bleached blonde or poofy-haired brunette moms in their 30s declaring [with misty eyes] to the camera that “my daughter WILL be the star I never was.” It’s a family therapist’s opportunity to RETIRE from the amount of money they could make off these psychos. This is so ridiculous. So let’s peel back the layers and take a look at what’s actually going on here:

1. Mom was a failure at being the performer she always wanted to be. Some of them had a Mom who pushed them. The others had unsupportive mothers so they are bound and determined to support their daughter in her journey to star-dom-whether she wants it or not.
2. Where’s Dad?? NONE of these Mom & Daughter duos seem to be including the Dad, yet they have all the money in the world to pay for trainers, coaches, etc. So how is this? Well, the Dad is probably busy… with another woman. Mom doesn’t notice OR doesn’t care because she’s too busy spending his money and living out her dream through her daughter, which he gladly hands over because he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her happy so she won’t divorce him and demand alimony plus child support. Then he won’t have to commit to the DG or SES he’s screwing on the side, yet he still has the picture perfect family to post pictures of at work to save face. But believe you me that Dad makes it to every show and competition.
3. The kid- she (cause all I’ve seen are little girls) just wants to have fun and be a kid! Despite Mom scrutinizing their every dance move and musical note with more meanness than Joan Crawford in “Mommie Dearest”, these little girls just keep going and keep competing. Between the ridiculous costumes and comical routines that look like complete spastic attacks, and their inability to nail the 2^nd turn in a routine even Britney would scoff at – I want to punch these Moms. And call social services.

 What will happen later in their life? Since they never had time to mingle with other children and develop valuable social skills, these little girls will be outcasts. They won’t have close girlfriends because their whole time growing up, Mom always told them to treat other girls as the competition. Then they’ll turn to promiscuity and drinking to feel good about themselves and get boys to like them. A lot of these girls are going to wind up quitting and turning Goth because their Moms will hate them anyway for not living out their dream. Others will have mental breakdowns and become anorexic or develop some kind of eating disorder. Some will succeed and go on to dance at prestigious schools and become teachers or famous performers. You can also count on lots of these girls becoming cheerleaders and gymnasts which might actually help pay their way through college because Mom and Dad went broke putting her through these dance lessons as a kid.

How? How am I such a genius with such insight? I’m from the South.  The Deep South. The land of women with poofy bleached out blonde hair, long fake nails, tight clothing, pushy-pageant-moms, thick accents, too much perfume, married to their high school or college boyfriends, then they ‘moved back home to settle down and live like their parents did.’ Maybe at their baby showers they should register for dance lessons and vocal lessons which they’ll start cashing in on their daughter’s 3^rd birthday. Just watch out for wire hangars and Comet bathroom cleaner…

On a scary note: Tonya Harding is pregnant. My word of advice to her future classmates? Make friends with her daughter, always let her win every game you play, and never walk in front of her.

The Fun Meter

 Have you ever heard the expression: “My fun meter is pegged”. I bet you’re wondering how to judge where you’re at with fun meter pegging? This really can apply to any situation: work, a birthday party, a work function, a blind date, a first date, family time [especially during holidays], business trips, and doctor’s appointments. The only situation in life where you are absolutely not authorized to apply the Fun Meter Rating is at a funeral. It’s just sick, twisted, and rude. I mean, really! Someone is actually dead in this situation.  So it’s just inhuman to sit there, knowing that in your head, your fun meter is at “borderline homicidal”. Oh, the shame!

There are 6 stages to a Fun Meter. The first three are safe and even manageable. While the yellow zone can get slightly scary, caffeine and booze can push you back into the green. Sex can even put you all the way back into the gray, especially with a post-coital-nap! But once you’re in to the red- things can get ugly. Again, booze or sex can fix things but it’s going to take a lot more of it. Once you’re into the last two stages, it’s time to regroup…and take a nap. Seriously.

Where I work, we say “My fun meter is pegged” quite often. Especially considering that over the past year and two months, 85% of our time working has required us to be away from our homes and families. After all that anyone would likely be ready for copious amounts of alcohol without which could lead to extreme anger, resulting in ass-kickings being passed out like pancakes to fat kids at IHOP on a Sunday morning. There are times where it’s possible to recover from the pegging of a fun meter and still enjoy the day. To survive these last few weeks away and stay [barely in the yellow], I simply armed myself with a big coffee cup for my early mornings, lots of Motrin, rubber bands, a Nerf gun complete with foam ammunition, peppermints [which hurt like hell when thrown at a high speed], and a mildly powerful squirt-gun. This way my work gets done, people stay away from me when I want them to, and no one is [seriously] hurt.

Oh Happy Day.....

Oh, this “happy” day. This day known to all love-sick people as “Valentine’s Day”. Quite frankly, all the companies that make money for marketing such a ridiculous tradition should be ninja-bitch-kicked in the face. The condom companies, wine stores, lingerie stores, candy stores, jewelry stores and worst of all- Hallmark. Yes, I said it. Hallmark should be ninja-bitch-kicked. While all the lovers in the world, married, engaged, dating, or ‘talking’ celebrate this day with joy, we single folks are left out. How fair is that? I’m pretty sure St. Valentine never intended to leave the single population of the world out of his celebration of love and happiness. I mean, how Christian is that?

As a child, my teachers encourage everyone to bring Valentines for the whole class. That way no one felt left out. Plus it was a great way for the teachers to get away with not having a lesson planned. They would sugar us up with cookies and soda, pass out Valentines so that we all truly believe that we are a “Q T Pie”, and send us buzzing home to our unsuspecting parents to deal with. If only our 8 year old brains could see in to the future and know that this sort of happiness won’t accompany every Valentine’s Day.

In my middle school days, I had a long standing crush on a boy. He asked me to be his girlfriend on a misspelled, handwritten note and I happily obliged…only to be brutally dumped a few days later by the words “you’re out” in front of all his friends as they laughed hysterically in that pre-teen way that still makes my skin crawl 15 years later. I was crushed. Then, a few weeks later our asshole teachers planned a little Valentine Mixer complete with music and food. So while I sat in the corner, dying for 2:30 to roll around so I could go cry in my mother’s classroom, I saw him having a great time laughing and dancing with an 8^th grade girl. This girl went through boyfriends like a stripper goes through outfits. Eventually, I got over it. And by “got over it” I mean I began liking his cousin. It didn’t exactly work out between us either, but that’s ok. Their family turned out to be bat-shit-crazy, and super white trash. But my prepubescent little mind didn’t think about how things like that can make life miserable later.

By the time I got to high school, I’d officially decided I HATE Valentine’s Day and everything it stood for. The sick-to-my stomach sugar buzz and lack of secret admirers while other little girls in my class had lots just made me feel bad about myself. As if having braces, knobby knees, and frizzy hair wasn’t enough. Each year, the sophomore class sold red carnations as a fund raiser. Since it wasn’t mandatory to include everyone as we did in grade school, I only received flowers from my girlfriends. No boys. As I write this little satire, 12 years later it’s simply comical. But for a 14 year old, it’s devastating.  You’d think that since it was a Catholic high school, people would have had a more giving, loving attitude. Yeah. Not so much. Apparently not everyone was worth the $1 that each carnation cost. I’m pretty sure St. Valentine was disappointed.

It wasn’t until my Junior year that I had an actual plan for Valentine’s Day. A long time secret crush I had asked me to go to a dance with him. Finally! He and I are going to be on a date. He’s going to see what an awesome person I am and maybe even want a 2^nd and 3^rd date!!! I was stoked. I did my hair all fancy, bought a new dress and waited excitedly for him to arrive. An hour before he was supposed to pick me up, he called to tell me I was going to have to pay for ½ my ticket ($25). No biggie, right? This should have been a huge red flag as to how the evening was going to progress…but I kept a positive attitude. This was a mistake. A futile mistake. When we arrived, he refused to take pictures with me, and completely ditched me to go get drunk in the bathroom with his friends from the flasks they’d snuck in, concealed in their jacket pockets. Since it was a public dance that all high school students could attend, I attempted to pick up my dignity and go mingle with other people. Later, I was mid-conversation with a mildly attractive guy when I noticed that he was acting a little strange. As he began to vomit in his hands, sitting inches from me, I realized it was time to go home. I found someone with a phone and called for a ride home… and never spoke to my date again.

In college, I had a steady beau for 3 years. Our first Valentine’s Day as a new couple- he spoiled me with a Hawaiian lei made of real flowers that he’d ordered online. I was born in Honolulu and spent my first 3 years of my life there, so naturally I was floored at his gesture. Then he took a romantic sushi dinner at our favorite place and we topped it off making out on his couch. It was hot. That was the last nice Valentine’s Day I had. I was 19. The next few Valentine’s Days that we shared were less than mediocre. I spent my last on as a college student with my parents having a cozy dinner at Applebees. After that, I had another mediocre one with a boyfriend of 3 months. His dad was in town, so we spent most of the day with him at the Naval Air Museum (not sooo bad considering I love that place), having a lunch of fried seafood, and then finally got some alone time that night…the boyfriend’s idea of romance? Ordering takeout, watching hockey, and going to bed. I know what you’re thinking. “He must have made it up with some really good sex, right?” Yeah. Right. You’d think that would have been his plan of action, so I didn’t completely get upset that we didn’t do anything cool. Apparently not. As I’m sure you can guess, we are no longer together either. Darn.

Last year, I cleaned out my refrigerator and made myself homemade sushi while watching SATC reruns. And this year… I’m working. Although I did decorate the office with lots of Valentine paraphernalia, despite my deep-seated genuine loathing of this day. This day that once again reminds me that I do not have a special someone missing me at home and planning a make-up-valentine surprise for me. No flowers, no jewelry, no candy, no wine, no slutty lingerie, and no obligatory ‘Valentine’s Day Booty’ (similar to birthday booty).

At this point, you probably think I’m an extremely bitter, senile old spinster at the ripe age of 26. Oh contraire, my friends. Oh contraire. My time of being a “we” will come. But I’m not ready. Honestly, the idea of sharing a living space such as an apartment or a home with a man I plan to keep around for longer than a few months scares the absolute “bejesus” out of me. Why? Well, read my SSB series and you’ll see. But one day, some unsuspecting guy will meet me and realize he can’t live without me, because I am just that fabulous. Right now, though, I am taking the advice of all my married friends and just enjoying my freedom. I have found peace in my independence and I will not measure myself by the things I lack. Besides, a girl can never have too many pairs of shoes. Ever.

SSB Part II

SSB PART II

     When we meet a guy, our behavior instantly changes. Whether we like to admit it or not, it does. Whether we’re dreaming about monogrammed towels or simply planning for date number 3 with the FB (typically known as the ‘sex date’). But until we meet said FB, we are just our SS.

     As previously mentioned, many guys have some particularly scary SSB. My research for the traits I mentioned has been thorough- mostly coming from former FBs, PH’s, SB’s, and finally my current roommates. (Bless their hearts). Gents, I by no means, do not think that women are incapable demonstrate behavior that it just as disturbing. I have seen girls’ apartments that would even make a homeless man’s skin crawl. Let’s face it- not everyone learned proper toilet scrubbing techniques. But a girl’s SSB is probably more quirky and comical, where a guy’s SSB is more of a health department case.

Girl SSB includes:

- eating while standing up, usually over the kitchen sink or on the small space of counter nearby.

- eating ice cream directly from the pint. Ok. Tub. Eating it from the tub.

- making funny little snacks like this: 5 unsalted crackers, each topped with a small amount of peanut butter, then chocolate chips. Microwave for 10 second then eat. Pairs great with ice cold moo-juice.

- eating Chinese takeout while lying in bed…on a Friday night.
- having drinks with another FSG on a Friday night...via Skype.

- devoting every Sunday morning to a full on field day of your apartment. A pot of coffee, Britney Spears on full blast, and rubber gloves…yay!

- singing in the shower

- not shaving your legs more than 2x/week.

- wearing granny-panties at random

- watching sad girly movies that you know will make you cry

- excessive shoe shopping

- going out with your other FSG’s disguised as DGs just for an ego boost

- cheesy romance novels

- weekly spa-pedicures

- only ordering pizza when you know the adorable pizza guy will be delivering

- singing at the top of your lungs in the car

- wearing big sunglasses.

- 3 hour lunches on weekends that often result in extreme intoxication, fueling you into a blur of a Saturday night. (WARNING: may lead to DS with an ONS)

- window shopping on a Saturday afternoon. For 3 hours.

- staying in your PJs all day.

- buying yourself flowers to brighten up the apartment.

- having dinner parties just so you can cook a full meal without the guilt of knowing you won’t eat the leftovers. Hungry guests=no leftovers PLUS they bring great booze.

- looking at facebook pages of old boyfriends in the hopes that they’re fat or dating someone fat and ugly.

- rearranging furniture

- redecorating. For the 3^rd time this year.

- talking yourself into a home improvement project like painting a wall in the apartment, or retiling the bathroom floor. Then realizing you probably shouldn’t. And you can’t.

- re-reading love letters from old FB’s and [hopefully] laughing.

- 2 hour phone-dates with other FSG’s

- Wine Nights at your apartment with your FSG’s.

- slathering thick lotion on your hands and sleeping with socks on them.

- Going out with your FSG’s with just enough $ for a cab home. Mission? Drink free all night. It’s bad, but we do it. Deal with it.

- staying home on a Friday for Saturday night simply to have quiet snuggle time with your pets.

- never closing the bathroom door
- "re-gifting" an unwanted gift to a former FSG, who has committed the cardinal sin of forsaking her FSGs for her new FB.

- air drying after a shower

- checking every nook and cranny when returning home to an empty apartment and before locking up at night. There are crazy people in the world and they’re not welcome in my home.

- baking every recipe on the back of a ‘Bisquik’ box in one day.

- yoga in the living room

- making chocolate chip cookies only so you can eat the dough

….and realizing by the time you finish this list that you really need to get out there and meet some new people. Or is that just me? Redecorating is expensive, alcohol wears out your liver, and cookie dough will make you fat no matter how much yoga you do.

                       

SSB Part I

SSB PART I.

SSB- (Secret Single Behavior) verb. Definition: actions or lifestyle choices that only apply to those who live alone, are not in a relationship, or both. This is behavior we may never demonstrate to a potential mate for fear of judgment, abandonment, etc.

Eating over the sink, not owning a dining room table, never closing the bathroom door…these are all forms of what is commonly referred to as SSB. While ‘In Between Relationships’ (IBR) or Dating Droubts (“DD’s” for short), we sink back into our habits formed while without a significant other. I would say that even a roommate can send these little behaviors into hiding, but for yours truly it’s really not the case. With two male roommates, I happily eat my Chinese take-out in my bed while enjoying reruns of old tv shows on my 20” beast-of-a-box-tv. Yes, even this TV is my SSB. It never occurred to me that my TV was old or small until I brought a date home last summer and he asked “where are the binoculars? Your tv is so small!!!”. It was then that I realized it was time for an upgrade…at some point. Of course, that was delayed thanks to my roommate purchasing a 58” BEAST of a flat screen for our living room. I swear, the homeless guys in the parking lot across the street could probably see the picture on this thing! What else does a guy’s SSB include? Well let’s see…

Guy SSB includes:

- leaving clothing and shoes right-where-they-took-them-off(dining room, bathroom, etc.)

- not flushing, peeing with the door open

- sitting on the couch in boxers

- playing PSP for 6+ consecutive hours

- drinking to excess in the middle of the day

- purchasing groceries ‘as-needed’ instead of planning trips that will last for a few weeks.

- not cooking anything more complicated than toast or soup.

- bringing home random women and having loud sex

- not paying utility bills until the service is cut off

- owning more PSP games than movies

- not owning a real bed…just a mattress on the floor. Box-spring optional.

- not actually owning any real furniture. Just college dorm leftovers.

- using as little light/electricity as possible at any given moment, and preventing anyone else from wasting it by unscrewing light bulbs and unplugging electronics and appliances.

- spending an obscene amount of money on a fancy blue ray player and surround sound, but then wiring it up so that even Houdini couldn’t figure it out on the first try.

- watching Toy Story at top volume WITH surround sound at 1130pm when roommates have to get up for work the next day.

- leaving beer bottles in the shower

- not owning air-freshener for the bathroom or home/apartment

- inviting people over for a dinner party that their SES of the week will actually set up and break down. This duty also includes the ‘awesome’ DS she’ll have later with said guy. (“Self Esteem Susie” to be discussed in a later post.)

- not cleaning the apartment until his mother shows up and immediately dons rubber gloves because her “poor baby shouldn’t live like this!!”

- not owning a coffee pot, just a Keireg single-cup coffee maker because he thinks this makes him look more sophisticated to the FSG’s he brings over and. Truth: he’s just lazy, not fancy!

- having posters…and hanging them on the wall with scotch tape

- never making the bed

- wearing the first clean thing they see on top of the “clean pile”. To hell with color/pattern coordination.

- not owning a real winter coat. Just a ‘trendy’ windbreaker with some athletic or team logo. “Coats are for pussies.”

- owning more condoms than he’ll actually ever go through in a year, and by the time he needs them, they’re expired.

- not owning any dress-clothes (not always true, but more often then not). Besides, what’s wrong with jeans and polished Bates’?

- using the trunk of his car and possibly the oven as “storage”.

- still owning a lava-lamp (over 1yr old) that came in a box that SAID “red” but turned out to be pink.

- identifying with Entourage because it’s “deep”.

- thinking some sort of pasta dish and red wine constitutes a fancy enough dinner to seduce a FSG, but realizing those amateur culinary skills are best saved for the SES’s they go out with IBR’s. An FSG knows better.

- investing a lot of money to stock a “mini bar” to look “sophisticated” to guests and dates. Fixing me a top shelf mohito to sip on while I lounge in your camping chairs arranged in front of your 58” flat screen…please.

-  not owning dishes that feed more than 4 people…or none at all- just some plastic-ware to pair up with your grandmother’s hand-me-down silverware.

- “artfully” arranging 4 months worth of Playboy magazines on the back of the toilet or on the coffee table. Then adding a Yankee “mandle” (manly smelling candle) to add some ‘class’ to the mix.

- finding a roommate with a completely well-furnished apartment, splurging to furnish your room, and then passing off the whole set-up as your own to dates.

- owning an expensive car (sometimes)

- filling the freezer with booze, (if no mini bar is possible) making grocery shopping pointless because none of the food would fit anyway.
- living in a bedroom without a door.
- owning a couch that apparently smells of cigarettes because it was purchased at a flea market.
- sleeping on an airmattress for 7 months before breaking down to buy a bed. 

- refusing to let go of any of these behaviors until he realizes that he’ll never score an FG (Fabulous Girlfriend) unless he does… or hanging onto his absurdity and settling for an SES while secretly pining for an FG.

…coming soon: Part II: Girl SSB.