Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Is There an Army Cover Up of Rape and Murder of Women Soldiers?
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Mmmmm, I love the smell of paternal condescension in the morning
So I open my email box this morning, and what do I find but a note from a 55 year old gentleman called SamPedro:
You're by far the best woman I've seen on this site, in every respect. Too bad you're too young for me.
First of all, what is the deal with guys getting in touch with me just to tell me that we're incompatible? Are they trying to pull a neg? Do they think I'll shoot them an email right back, begging them to give me a chance? They're just annoying me, and they are incompatible with me.
It got better; Sam suggested a few (completely unnecessary) punctuation and grammar edits to my profile. What?!
Thanks, teach, but if you think that's going to charm a lady, you're the one who has lots to learn.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Happy Birthday to my Nan, who at 82 is still the coolest lady I know.
Happy Birthday, Bill! Well, today might not be his actual birthday, although it's widely recognized as such (he died on April 23; being born on the exact same day is pretty unlikely. I guess it adds to the legend). We do know that he was baptized on April 26, which, as it happens, is my sister's birthday.
As I've said before, I am a big nerd. Reading is my main hobby for pleasure, and I considered becoming an English literature major (before Lady Art came calling). I lurve me some Shakespeare, and I really, really lurve me some Kenneth Branagh doing Shakespeare. Here are a couple of treats to celebrate the Bard's birthday.
From Henry V:
Look at the left side of the page, my honeys. I have a new icon! Not that there was anything wrong with the old one...yes, it's Jessica Rabbit, and no, I don't look anything like that, because she's a cartoon! I know you all are smart enough to figure that out. I was a fairly convincing JR for Halloween a few years back, though, so she's close to my heart. Maybe some day I'll have the guts to put up a picture from that night.
I wasn't looking for an icon upgrade per se, but yesterday, I got an email from my boss that directed me to this site. Readers, I do retouching, and I think I'm pretty good at it, but...holy shit, this artist is flipping talented. I mean, just look at the before and after:
I'm in awe. Make all the jokes you want about how even female cartoons get retouched now; this is some tight artwork. Besides, the site has un-tooned male characters as well.
If you have ten minutes, watch the process video. Amazing!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Educating the future of America
Dear 25-and-under dudes:
What is your deal with women my age? Some of you aren't even out of school yet, and you want to date me. You IM me, you email me, you ask to buy me drinks in bars, and you are never dissuaded when I tell you I'm 35! You tell me I look 26, you tell me you 'love the hair', you tell me 'there's just something about an older woman'. What is that thing, exactly? My grandmother thinks it's a sex thing. "They want you to teach them a few things," she once told me.
Eek. I am not Demi, nor are you Ashton. I am definitely not Dr. Ruth. My online profile specifically states that I'm looking for guys in the mid 30s to mid 40s range.
You are all way smoother than I was at your age, which I find both comical and endearing.
What am I supposed to do with you? I can't bring you home to Dad. My girlfriends, the youngest of whom is 26, would think I had lost my shit. My 31 year old sister would probably have me committed. Even if I braved all of that, what the hell are you and I going to talk about? I'm not saying that you're inarticulate or ignorant of world events just because of your age. It's just that so many of your online profiles overflow with your love of Xbox and Howard Stern. On my last outing with my thirtysomething friends, we talked about Darfur, economic growth in China and Super Tuesday. We also talked about squashing, because we'd had a few drinks and are fascinated by weird fetishes, but you get my point.
Another thing: some of y'all are irredeemably cocky.
Take TimTom, for example (not his real screen name). TimTom, 25, emailed me a few months ago to say:
I always say I want someone who can be spontaneous but slow down and enjoy the finer things in life. Damn you had to be 35 huh??? anyways, cool personality! Enjoy it! It's unique.
That's a nice thing to say, isn't it? I was flattered. I also figured that was the end of it. I was swamped at work that week, so I didn't respond right away, although I intended to send back a 'thanks for that, take care' email. I've done that before, and readers, not many women do it, because guys often don't act right when they feel protected by the anonymity of the internet. I actually believed that TimTom was just being friendly and flirty with no further intentions.
I was mistaken. Two days later, I received this angry email:
A thank you would be nice, you dont have to be rude to me. We dont owe each other much, but for a random compliment, being polite goes a long way. I would like to talk to you, and I am very upfront with people. I am not here to get into your pants you are out of my age range, but I like your personality non the less.
Did I miss something? How was I supposed to know that this dude was trying to strike up a correspondence? Was I supposed to know that I had a deadline to respond? Why would anything I did matter to Tim, who had already made it clear that I was too old for him?
Well, readers, I do aim to please. TimTom wanted a response, and he got one:
Um, what? Why am I getting scolded by somebody I've never met or even spoken to? I don't owe you a reply within a certain amount of time, dude. I've been busy at work and haven't been emailing anybody. Maybe I would have written you back once I read your first email, but there's no chance of that now.
Okay, well, I did write him back, but I had to call him out on his sense of entitlement. I have a tendency to attack the entitled. I simply do not understand people who feel that complete strangers owe them something, and I feel this overwhelming need to knock them down a peg. "We don't owe each other much"? You're a complete stranger, homes. I don't owe you anything.
I thought there was no way TimTom would email me back after that rant, but he did. Ladies and Gents, I present a classic example of The Dudely Backpedal:
Not scolding, Just expressing what I feel. Dont take email personal, it's only words your mind forms the expression and mood. Too many people misunderstand this, and that leads to miscommunication which leads to hurt feelings. I admire your confidence.
Oh, it was all a misunderstanding! Thanks for clearing that up so eloquently, Tim. I'm just a silly little girl who no understand da Engliss. I appreciate you taking the time to soothe my hurt widdle fee-fees. My hero!
Telling someone how they should have reacted to an email is presumptuous, Tim. You didn't hurt my feelings, you pissed me off by being rude. Try to use your "words your mind forms" to be a little nicer to the next woman that you email. I am out of your age range, as you said, so why don't we just leave it there?
Predictably, Tim couldn't leave it there.
Are you normally agressive like that? I am curious before I get off here to know because you seem like you want a friendship but your throwing my words back at me. If I truly pissed you off it wasnt intentional, I talk my mind. Isnt that better than someone who continuously kisses your ass until they get what they want and leave?
Oh, lord. In one email, Yours Truly was transformed from a confused shrinking violet into Boudica. Might as well have fun with it, right?
No, Tim, I fire back when someone is rude to me. Live and learn - you can speak your mind without being a jerk. I don't put up with rudness, ass kissing, or any kind of nonsense. That's one reason I don't date young - you're way out of my "age range", too. Take this as a lesson to act right if you like confident, mature women. Good luck to you.
I chucked a great deal of TimTom's attitude up to his age and inexperience with women. I showed my friend Liz our correspondence; after she shook her head and laughed, "Only you," she clicked on his full profile, which I will paraphrase:
I am very busy and have plenty of friends. I don't need a girlfriend, don't have time for one at this point. My friends keep me busy and women come second and they need to know that.
Translation: how do I talk to a girl? They have vaginas and I'm scared. I try to sound smart by insulting them. Someone help!
TimTom had fully deserved the email takedown that I had unleashed on him, but I started to soften up after reading his profile. Like the little boy on the playground who gets nervous around the girls in his class, Tim was just pulling my pigtails. I understand that boy very well, because I used to punch the crap out of him when he pulled my ponytail in grade school.
As if he'd read my mind, Tim emailed me again.
I don't totally agree with what you're saying but I am going to thank you for your opinion. As you say live and learn. If we can be friends I can use the use the extra knowledge. Maybe you can tell me more about what a woman wants and how to find a more confident mature woman? I am really tired of dealing with all the 23-28 year old drama.
I feel you, TimTom. Truce!
Fair enough, Tim. I am not a dating coach, but I would recommend that you keep it real. That's the best advice I can give anyone, and I follow that rule myself. Good luck.
Last week, Tim sent me another email:
Hey, I hope you are well and wanted to see how you've been.
That was sweet. I took another look at his profile, to see if he'd changed it. He had, and in it, he described himself as a good and loyal friend, someone who wants to meet nice, no-drama women for friendship or something more serious.
He did well! That attitude will most definitely help him with the ladies. I felt like a proud mama. I thought it best not to respond to his email, though. After all, he's out of my age range.
Um, 'A' for effort?
The online dating thing is tough, but it has its entertaining moments. Here's one of the latest email gems I've received:
"Oh My God! What a Princess!! You are really one sweet girl, even more! You are proof that paradise beings live among us mortals!! Gosh those who live arround you are truly blessed!...You are gorgeous!...
Du är strålande vackert! vilken underbar paradiset varelse!!!...That´s Swedish for: You are illuminating Beautiful! What a wonderful paradise being!
La vostra Bellezza lucida como il sole, ed il vostro sorriso lucida come il cielo di tramonto!!...Parla lei l´Italiano?
Bacio a voi!...a Kiss to you, sweet angel!"
Wowee. That's what I call a diamond turd.
He's enthusiastic, I'll give him that! Direct, no beating around the bush. I do like that. Good use of foreign languages, too...I love a worldly man.
On the other hand, my experiences with men have taught me that any guy who refers to a woman as a 'paradise being' is probably just a few drinks away from skinning and wearing her. Stalkerrific!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
The above doll is a joke Christmas gift that my sister bought for me at a drugstore - a singing, dancing George W. Just what I've always wanted!
Except not. Like some male members, I lean to the left. My sister and I were raised by Reagan Republicans; she turned out conservative, while I wound up liberal (or 'bleeding heart liberal', as Sister Girl has sometimes called me). She knew I'd get a kick out of her drugstore find. When you squeeze a certain spot on W's arm, he spouts things like "I'm the decider!", and "I think it's a budget! It's gotta lotta numbers in it!". My favorite is "The future will be better tomorrow!". I'm so proud that our country has been trashed by this genius for 8 years.
I think I've mentioned before that I work in marketing, with a very liberal group that is mostly male. We're a pretty funny, mostly politically incorrect crew. When I first brought George into work, everybody was fascinated, and for a while I had to hear "I'm the decider!" more often than I would have liked as coworkers squeezed the doll's arm out of curiosity. George cracked everybody up, mostly because the guy who did the voice for the doll sounds just like the real thing.
One afternoon a few weeks back, we were having a group meeting around my desk. George was present, since he occupies the spot next to my computer.
Without thinking, one of my coworkers said, "Ginger, your little Bush is so creepy."
Cue hysterical laughter from everybody, myself included. No way does anybody get away with a statement like that in my department.
Male coworker 1: Dude! I don't think you can say that to her.
Male coworker 2: You have to take her out to dinner first.
Male coworker 3: Yeah, so she can blog about it!
Things calmed down after a few minutes, and turned our attention back to the presentation critique. We had to make a change to a logo; specifically, we had to scale down an element that the client referred to as a 'plumb-bob'.
Male coworker 4: (leaning over) What the hell is a plumb bob?
Ginger: (leaning in, conspiratorially): It's what I use to clean my Bush.
Zing! Even for me, that was a good one.
Male coworker 4 and I both pretty much lost our shit. He had the giggles so bad that he had to get up and leave the room for a minute.
Sadly, nobody touches my Bush anymore.
Today's the kind of Monday that needs a redhead joke.
One morning while making breakfast, a man walked up to his redheaded wife and pinched her on her butt and said, "You know if you firmed this up we could get rid of your girdle."
While this was on the edge of intolerable, she thought herself better and replied with silence.
The next morning the man woke his redhead with a pinch on the breast and said, "You know if you firmed these up we could get rid of your bra."
This was beyond a silence response, so she rolled over and grabbed him by the penis. With a death grip in place she said, "You know, if you firmed this up we could get rid of the postman, the gardener, the poolman, and your brother."
Labels: Totally random
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
SnarkScribe recently put up this hilarious post about some idiot who keeps a 'girlfriend closet' - that is, a collection of clothes that he would dress his girlfriends in. The man should just get a Real Doll, but then, they don't talk back (although for a certain type of man, I'm sure that's part of the appeal).
Right after college, I got a retail job at the local mall with Jones New York. One of my coworkers, Michael, fancied himself a real ladies' man. He thought he was smooth, always telling me about his various conquests or talking up his 'legendary' backrubs. He was the stock sitcom character at the office who's always on the make.
One day, during a slow period, Michael and I were folding shirts to pass the time. I think I mentioned that I still had one of my ex boyfriend's shirts. I had found it in a pile of stuff, and was agonizing over whether or not to throw it out. I was still getting over the breakup, and my ex's shirt smelled like him, which triggered all kinds of emotions and flashbacks to when things were good between us. Ah, young love; it bears such a very close resemblance to complete insanity. Michael, in what was quite possibly the most horribly misguided attempt at coworker bonding in history, told me that he could relate to my conundrum. He had a panty collection, which he felt guilty about, but couldn't get rid of.
You heard that right.
Michael had stolen a pair of previously worn panties from every girl he'd ever fucked; he kept them in a large photo album, each one carefully sealed inside a Ziploc sandwich bag.
Those of you who are twisted enough to read this blog on a regular basis have probably figured out where this is going...
...and you're right. The Panty Filcher would periodically take the aforementioned unmentionables out of the plastic and take a big whiff. It goes without saying that he got off on it.
Okay. I do not, do not get this about guys! Granted, not all guys do this, but the ones that do...what is wrong with you? I don't want to sniff my own panties. I certainly don't want to take a whiff of my guy's BVDs. Loyal bepenised readers, help me out here. Yo no comprendo.
Anyhow, back to my story. When I got up off the floor - I was seriously busting a gut from laughing so hard - I told Mr. Smoothie that he might just have a mental problem. I also advised that he move to Japan. To his credit, he freely admitted his own douchery and laughed about it. Perhaps I was being a bit harsh, because he had, in fact, helped me out.
I went home that night and threw out my ex's shirt. I would have burned it in the fireplace if it wasn't summertime.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Yeah, I've been lazy
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Whomever found my blog by googling "work sweater tits desk", you need therapy. Same goes for you, "Ginger + Honey Penis Growth".
Labels: Totally random