Monday, August 31, 2009

How Fitting. What a Terrible Day.

So, I've been slacking lately. Not on purpose, not out of boredom, not from a lobotomy. But I've been really busy- as I'm sure you are. Scatterbrained to the fullest. I'm lucky if I remember to put mascara in the morning. 

But man, what a terrible day today. 

I got a threatening feeling letter about something I didn't realize I was doing, got accused for hitting a car I didn't hit, my brother is sick with something and I want to fix him, I forgot to send a wedding gift, and I wasn't aware how to properly use my ebay account so I could receive the birthday present purse I bought for myself in time for my birthday. Which I won't. Oh, and it's my birthday week. Which means I'm getting older. Which naturally makes me anxious. Yuck all around. 

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Wait...He's Married?

I make quite a few comments about The Marrieds (married people deserve capitalization due to their significance in my life). Despite what I may say, I really have nothing against them nor marriage. I am sure I'll be married some day, I mean stranger things have happened. Lifelong commitment won't be as daunting when life is already half over. It'll be more like, "Hey, let's hang during our downfall. If I'm going to go down, why not go down with me?" How romantic. But what really kills me is when characters from your life get married. You know what characters are? They're people who aren't your friends anymore, but played a part during a memorable period of life. Thus you recall them as only stagnant characterized beings.

So I'm strolling through facebook and see that my college guy friends are married. What? They aren't supposed to get married! How can they? These guys are the guys who have several kegs in their home, live with 18 guys, take home random girls, and buy me shots in basement house parties. And I'm supposed to believe they are married now? Impossible I say. Inconceivable. And then it hits me. I'm like the mom who thinks her boy is still her little boy and packing his lunch and doing his laundry and suddenly she realizes he is actually 45 years old with a severely receding hairline. As if she froze him in time to preserve her own inability to get past his growing old and away from her. Am I in some kind of denial about my age? Are my old college buddies finding me on facebook and wondering, "What the hell? She isn't married yet? Something f'd up must of happened with her. Maybe she turned schizophrenic or something. That happens in your twenties you know."

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Why is Everyone Around Me Getting Lucky Breaks?

I used to work at an incredibly dysfunctional establishment. I'm sure you're thinking "yeah, join the club sister"- but this particular place of employment went way beyond traditional workplace dysfunction. CEO's were fired like we were on Donald Trump's "The Apprentice", it wasn't uncommon to be asked to come in at 2:00am in the morning, and it wasn't uncommon for me to be asked if I would dress up as a genie and fly on a magic carpet for a promotional spot. I'd work no less than 60 hours a week, many people called me Veronica which wasn't my name, I'd be scheduled for 4 meetings at once that were mandatory, and I'd often run from people to hide. Oh, and while our bathrooms routinely were shut down- it was okay, because we weren't provided with drinking water anyway. But we did get commemorative rocks. 

But such conditions force friendships. Friendships in coping. The people I worked with were like family, because really I spent way more time with them than anyone else. Such ridiculousness creates strong bonds amongst the tragically affected. We all felt equally abused, misunderstood, and down right depressed at times. But the light came in the joys of absurdity. Because we really saw some absurd things.

But this was a few years back. Now, many of us have moved on. Many of which were forced to leave in sweeping lay-offs. Myself, I was lucky enough to have the strength to leave on my own terms. Ah, the empowerment. The crazy thing is that lately many in this pathetic little clan of misfits have come into some pretty incredible fame and fortune. What are the chances? It began with one co-worker getting on a reality show that actually pushed his career into the real heights he wanted. Another, against all odds, became a real working model in NYC. And yet another has found fame on arguably the most well respected and popular reality show on television. All from my tiny little abused work-o-sphere. As if the harsh conditions actually paid off!

So now I can't help it my chance? Do I have a lucky break waiting to be cashed in?! Does suffering really pay off in the end? 

Monday, August 24, 2009

I'm The Control Group

A few nights ago a group of us dressed up and went to the premiere party for a friend of mine's reality show debut (a good reality show requiring talent of the contestants). Fun was had by all in the form of various fruity concoctions. Storytelling, great conversation, laughs, wasabi covered peas...everything you need for a great night out. As we pit-stopped to pick up another guest on our way to the final bar stop of the night, the following announcement was made to our stunned guest whom had just endured a 5.5 hour drive to step into a car full of very happy glam'd up people, "Come on in! We've got three married ladies and a guy in here!"

Seems like a very normal statement, doesn't it? The problem with this proclamation of car inhabitants is there was one other, apparently unidentifiable person, squeezed in the way back. Me. There were three married ladies, one guy, and Me.

This dismissal of my attendance, based on the fact I am neither married nor male, made me wonder if I'm some kind of control group now. The Single Girl control group. Throw together a group of individuals with the "treatment" of marriage, being the one male in the group, and then the control girl who still remains the same pathetically socially unaltered girl (no marriage, no kids, no pets) and see what the scientific experience of the night can unravel. Comparing the results of the treated (aka married) group to a wild night out and the control group (aka not married) girl is essential to rule out imagined effects of the night. For instance, dancing in a bar full of 21 year-olds. By comparing the treated (married) group with the control group (me)- the results would determine there are no differences in reaction and both groups participated in the same way.

Lending my body to science. Sigh. 

Thursday, August 20, 2009

I Feel Sorry for Kourtney Kardashian's Unborn Child

Wow. Talk about a girl throwing up her personal life all over the media. So apparently this girl, Kourtney Kardashian, got pregnant. By accident. And she realized after splitting up with her moron boyfriend. And of course this all conveniently happened right while promoting her new reality show. Amazing how that happens! By becoming illegitimately pregnant and being on the media circuit- she's taken liberty in explaining all the details of her ups and downs of the surprise pregnancy. She's told us it was a total accident because she missed her pill a few times. And how she considered abortion because she knew once she had the baby she wouldn't be able to sleep in anymore. Wow. That's one LUCKY baby. I'm sure it'll be great going to elementary school and having people laugh and point at him saying, "Your mommy didn't want you!" And what can he come back with? What will his slammin' retort to his fellow rugrats be? "I know, it's on Season 1 of Kourtney & Khloe Take Miami." How special will this kid feel?

Really people, some things can be left private. Be like the rest of us and just keep it a hidden secret between you and your best friend your whole life.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

When Something Doesn't Feel Right: What Separates Instinct from Paranoia?

Some people are freaks. They think the worst of the worst all the time. They are convinced the end is near, people are bad, accidents await, and generally behind everything lies a secret pitfall. On the otherside are the completely oblivious- wandering through life in naivety and ignorant bliss. Often getting taken advantage of, these poor chaps, as they would never suspect what hits them.

But what about when you just have a feeling something is off? Or you don't believe someone...but you have no idea why? Is this instinct or paranoia? Or, are they one and the same? I've always been a follow-my-instinct girl. Which is just a flowery way of saying I stick to my guns. If emotion or logic or the meeting in the middle of both feel an urge towards something, I go with it.

But with age and wisdom and eyes being forced wide open is my instinct slowly chipping away? Can instinct survive with the heavy weight of life experience in my pockets? For instance- take the multiple times I was promised a raise/wage in my career and didn't actually get it until I was forced to take action. I think this has happened four times already in my career. One time my former boss hadn't even told HR he promoted me! This experience has me not really believing when a boss has any conversation with me about wage. I'm not falling for the whole "here's more responsibility and I'll increase your pay" trick. Is this fair? This isn't based on instinct- but facts collected in my past. Which in turn leads to distrust and inability to spot the good from the bad.

What do we do? Trust our intuition or trust our past? Or say to hell with it and have a glass of wine?

When People Humiliate Themselves, On Purpose

I don't see clearly why people open themselves up to humiliation for a slice of fame. And I'm not talking even about real fame (like the chicks hooking up with that stupid Jon Gosselin dude), although those people register on a complete new scale of idiot. I should author that scale now that I think about it...

Just this morning I was listening to a local radio station where listeners were allowing the DJ's to read through their email inbox live on air. You'd THINK the people allowing for this public revelation to take place would clean out their emails or be sure there is nothing embarrassing. Nope. Instead they allowed the live reading of things that only belong in private. And for what? The chance to have their name on the radio. The radio! That's like the lowest rung of media these days...but still with a big enough local audience driving through rush hour sipping on some coffee thanking the heavens they didn't turn out so desperate for attention that they must resort to cheesy DJ jokes. What are the odds the same girl revealing her emails also has a sex tape leaked on the internet? I'm guessing at least an 85% chance yes.

The question is- why? Are we influenced and motivated into complete self degregation by our neverending consumption of reality television stars? Watching Lauren Conrad's "career" makes me wonder if being a total moron in public is beneficial. After all, she probably has enough money for the material things I'm still trying to figure out how to gain (a white Porsche, a person to blow-dry my hair daily, and person to manage my mail). For her, I can kinda see it. Look at her hair extensions! They're perfect. But for the people just doing humiliating things to get on local radio- there is no pay-off. Crappy tickets to a crappy concert? Really?

Monday, August 17, 2009

I Apologize if this Blog is Boring

I was told the other night that my blog has become boring. I could look back at my recent posts and analyze them with an ultra scientific test most likely on facebook that will take each thought written and categorize it as "entertaining" vs. "boring"- but I'm not sure I'd like to expend the effort. Because, in truth, maybe I'm just thinking about boring things lately. It's not as if I've bored down my life. I'm still going out, laughing, seeing crazy things. In fact just last week I took the dare of wearing whatever was bought for me at a county fair- resulting in a wardrobe of a pink tank that said "Sexy" and a matching pink cowboy hat with a blinking tiara seen from miles away. That is not boring. It was a study in human reaction. And I got a lot of human reaction. I kinda felt like I was a Playboy Bunny walking around in uniform, only I don't look like a Playboy Bunny and my uniform was much more embarrassing.

But possibly I need to be more inspired? My thoughts on gender roles are too dull and outdated? I wonder what I could do to get more interesting...begin channeling Lindsay Lohan? Start internet dating? Wear leggings? I guess I'll have to think about this.

For now I'm going to pack up and go to my job. Now, telling you about that would certainly be boring. I do have somewhat of an edit system.

Friday, August 14, 2009

What Happened to Good Ol' Gender Roles?

I'm starting to think gender roles provided greater equality to women and men, rather than the popular assumptions...

Think of it. In the old days (the exact historical dates confining the old days are unknown to me) women were expected to be mothers and housemaids. They cooked, cleaned, and in general made life pleasant for the man. She may have been encouraged to be smart if she was lucky enough. Yet the man was in charge of making the money, making the family decisions, and driving the family to success. Things were pretty black & white, or male & female.

It's coming to my attention that this dismissal of gender roles has yes, given women more power, but now we're expected to do everything. And men are starting to do less & less. Now that they can feel free to explore hair products without getting ridiculed it's as if all their male duties have been tossed on over to the female area. As if a collective male sigh has been let out, "Ahhh. Freedom from standard responsibility!"

I mean, women in their twenties are expected to make a lot of money- and men are starting to judge us on this in their standard "potential mate" package rating. I hear guys all the time talking about women who make money and how she's more of a prospect. What happened to being judged solely on our looks? Now we have to be gorgeous, naturally thin (as we should be able to eat whatever he wants us to), a giving caretaker (coddling him when he has the sniffles), great in bed, a potential fantastic mother (in case things get dangerously serious), a skilled cook, a housemaid, and the majority breadwinner. All in one. Oh, and we can't spend more than 40 hours max at this job providing us with such a stellar income because that affords less time to massaging him and lining up the TIVO record.

I'm just saying- give a girl a break. Sometimes a few gender roles are good. Keeps everything equal.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

And, Now What? (Twiddle My Thumbs)

Are you ever hit the the case of "what's nexts"?

I'm hit with this affliction often. Job's going well enough, family seems somewhat stable, love life is fine...but what next? The stifling and suffocating hold of potential opportunity, ideas of the future, new territories to explore. Only I can't quite put my finger on what exactly it is I'm craving next. Perhaps I just need a goal? Like, a real goal. I've never had some deadline induced goal where I must complete X by day Y. I'm not really sure this practice accomplishes anything but making one feel as if they gave themselves an attainable goal so they can boost their self-esteem (perhaps my goal should be reviewing and mastering proper English, as I'm quite certain my use of "one" and "they" is all very wrong). The problem with this unsettling syndrome is I start to lay my life's components under a microscope of scrutiny. Everything is fair game, all is up for negotiation. How exhausting. And what's to come of all this analyzing?

No clue. I must wonder with all this agonizing if I simply need to buy a plant or something.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Why Men Move On (Much Quicker)

Good old MSN dating and relationships brought another topic to mind today. Of course, my opinion is quite different from theirs. Why is it that men seem to move on so quickly? From breakups that is. They don't move on from most things that occur in their twenties for a really really long time. Possibly never.

A breakup for a woman is usually a big deal, unless she found her new beau before dropping the old one. Men participate in this practice just as often- thus we'll cancel the entire phenomena and return to the topic at hand: men drop women like fantasy baseball drafts. They size up and rate all the eligible players, generally go for the high profile picks (think hot flirty types who like to do body shots and are a good ten years their junior), commit to their pick, and as soon as there is the slightest hint of faltering (like she dares to ask him if he is serious about her or if he ever wants to get married) and then he drops her from his team and looks for a trade (for the girl who started flirting with him via text as soon as he committed). And it's done and they move on as if nothing ever happened.

Meanwhile, the girl who got dropped is at home SOBBING. Wondering what went wrong? The ratio is a woman tends to mourn a relationship demise for at least a week per day the male even entertained the breakup in his mind. He's out partying with his friends (Tony Romo) as quickly as he can get to a bar (and of course, his friends LIVE for breakups so there can be quality girlfriend-free male rallying) while she's feeling down and out and has no desire to be in public where she must endure groups of sloppy drunk men rallying because they are single and free.

Why is this?

MSN blames it on men not liking to be alone. Which, yes, I agree with. Men are big babies. But you know what? It's our fault, because women love to baby them. It's nature. Is it because men care less? I would love to say so, but I've had too many male friends have their heart's broken and know firsthand it's possible for a man to feel just as depressed about a break-up as a woman.

Alas, I have no answer. All I know, is with shows like Entourage on HBO it's a wonder all men don't pack their bags and move to LA on the idea that there are horny women everywhere looking to lay down with the slightest nod their way.

If you feel like reading the MSN article

Thanks Vacation for Making Me Want to Do Nothing

There's something about a vacation that makes you want to do nothing for the rest of your life. Makes you desire even more to be a socialite (this has been a dream of mine ever since I was introduced to Paris Hilton and how massively one can screw up opportunity). Makes you unable to concentrate on work and everyday duties of life like paying bills and laundry. And I didn't even go on a real vacation, in fact, it was more like a retreat. A 4 day retreat in the woods with 40 of my closest non-family members. Complete with herd-like meal feasting. No, I did not go to summer camp. But somehow this non-vacation vacation allowed me to relax more than I've been able to on real vacations. And now, come Monday and work, I can't even think. Aren't vacations supposed to refresh you and energize you to return joyously back to service for pay? Yeah, it doesn't really work that way. Instead I just want more vacation.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

As You Get Older, You Care Less

The good thing about getting older is that I no longer give a F about certain things. Not that I've given up on laws or morality or human interaction or liking babies, but I have come to the conclusion some of the unique perceptions/tendencies I hold that people criticize- I simply do not care. So I'm different from the "mass" ideas and opinions? Good. Things like:

1) I think Michael Franti sucks. Yeah, you heard that right. His songs are lame and remind me of karaoke on spring break.
2) I think coffee for breakfast, edamame for lunch, some jicama and hummus for snack, and a bottle of champagne for dinner is a perfectly acceptable diet. You just wait, I'll be writing the next best-seller, "The Skinny Healthy Drunk Diet"
3) The movie Hangover is not that funny. Zoolander kicks it's ass.
4) Speaking of movies, Pirates of the Caribbean made me feel like I was stuck in a coma while forced to watch the same scene over and over again for 2.5 hours while I silently died from boredom.
5) I like super skinny and beautiful Hollywood actresses & actors. If I wanted to see average people I'd just go to the State Fair.

Feels good to just let that all out.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Deep Thoughts By Girl Twentiesh

Sometimes you just feel like an idiot. Today, I feel like an idiot.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Post Party Depression

Do you sometimes feel anxious, worthless and fatigued? Unmotivated, dehydrated, and the compulsive urge to eat unhealthy fare? The inability to see the light in the Monday to come? The excitement of a party weekend can trigger a multitude of powerful emotions from happiness to glee to drunken high-but it can also result in something you may not expect. Something no one talks about yet often experience- Post Party Depression. It's an illness, and it's real. I know, because I Girltwentiesh am a sufferer.

Post Party depression can develop after any party, not just a party weekend. The risk increases if:
-You saw grown men race red tricycles
-You indulged in several Suck and Blow shots
-You saw 40 lobsters inhaled by a group of drunk and exhausted adults from Beer Olympics
-A gorgeous pool and/or boat were involved
-You successfully* drank 4 martinis at opening ceremony (*the means without becoming ill or obnoxious)
-You were asked the same question by the same people no less than 5 times but didn't care because you also couldn't remember
-You've experienced post party depression in the past

There are no specific causes for post party depression. Physical, emotional and lifestyle factors may all play a role:
-If your friends suck, you have a 0% chance of contracting the illness
-Great alcoholic beverage choices, in unlimited quantities, increase your risk substantially
-If you hate your job, be very cautious, as you may have a hard time handling even the slightest PPD
-If you experience difficulty in remember your actions during the party, seek emergency attention. Flashbacks and repressed
memories can be detrimental to your recovery

While PPD is difficult to recover from, treatment is available. The most common cure of post party depression is planning another party. IMMEDIATELY.