Troll Apocalypse?

I saw a woman on the street on my way in to work today who scared the hell out of me. Giant lips, long, fried, black hair... she looked like a muppet. I do not understand this “beauty” trend. It makes everyone look like cartoons!

Here are what seem to be the steps:

The modern woman?

• Fake n’ Bake until your skin has the color and consistency of a leather belt.
•  Botox inject your lips until they look like two sausages attempting to escape from your teeth.
• Fry your hair completely flat.
• Apply fake eyelashes. Thicker the better.

If you have fur or snakeskin to clothe yourself in, all the better. Or inappropriately short skirts that show off muscular, manly legs in the case of this morning’s creature.

 

Luckily this doesn’t seem to be taking off as HUGELY popular, but it certainly has become mainstream enough that I’m finding it on the streets of midtown Manhattan on a Thursday morning, instead of in a back alley of tranny prostitutes (for which this woman could have been honestly mistaken). Ma’am (Sir?) please stop looking like an oversized Bratz doll that is old enough to be my mother and try to age gracefully. Or possibly join the circus. Not cute.

I Think I'll go to Boston... And Get Yelled at by a Stripper

This weekend I had more disappointments the world of men. I need to re-evaluate what I'm doing wrong, because I think it really must be me at this point.

I went to Boston. I was going to meet up with a former long-distance romantic interest (We aren't getting back together or anything, but what's wrong with getting some?) So, he had picked Boston. I was going to pay for my own ticket up there (luckily he picked somewhere on the east coast that I can actually get myself to) but then I would ask "So are we going on Friday or Saturday?"  No response. Then I'd say something like "So let me know about this weekend. Are we staying with your friends again?" His response "I'll let you know soon!" Followed by... nothing! I requested that he let me know by Thursday, which I DO NOT think is unreasonable, since who buys flights a matter of hours before departure? You should know if you are going to Boston from California within 24 hours of take-off, I think. And he didn't let me know.

On Friday I told him "I'm going to Boston either way. I need a break from NY." He texts me "Let me know when you get to Boston." I texted him when I got there. He didn’t tell me if he was coming at all on Friday. I texted him to ask if he was going to on Saturday, and then Saturday night at 5:30 pm I get "I'm here! What are you up to?" My mental response: Um, well. I wrote you off and made other plans. The flight is 6 hours, so there is no reason for it to take an ENTIRE DAY for you to get back to me, and you could have at least texted me "I am getting on a plane" when you were at the airport, you know? This "Surprise! I'm here! Drop what you're doing and come hang out" business is crap.

So, on principle, I didn't see him. I just said "I'm not on standby for you." That's what he gets for not coordinating with me. I mean, it was supposed to be a fun get-together, not a shitload of work and power plays.

Now, unfortunately, this did me no favors either, as I did not get laid and I ended up awkwardly inviting myself over to basically a complete stranger’s house. For lodging, I tried my highschool ex-boyfriend first. We had stayed friends and he has a girlfriend, so I didn’t think it would be weird. Nor do we have any unfinished business since we dated like 8 YEARS AGO and it mostly involved making out and going to Coldstone a lot. However, his response to my request "Would it be weird if I crashed on your couch Friday night" was "Have your boy toy put you up." I guess we are not as good of friends as I had thought. I would gladly have let him stay with me in NY any time and I’ve never asked him for anything! I’m sure this is more a moral high-horse situation though where he decides to act like my dad or something and have a "I can't support your whore-like activities" moment, which are frankly none of his business.

I can't do this.

So the conclusion was that I crashed on the couch of a 33 year old divorcee that my sister met on an airplane. And thank goodness he’s a nice guy and not totally weird. He even kindly let me tag along to a birthday party for his friend that included a nice dinner at a steakhouse and a series of strip clubs.

Adding to my memorable Boston experience, I got yelled at by a stripper in strip club #1. The guy letting me crash on his couch was asking me if I was okay with being at a strip club and I was responding to him with "Yeah. It's fine- Portland has a lot of them. I'm always impressed with the acrobatics! I can't even touch my toes!" and the girl stripping climbed up on the counter in front of me and started yelling "Bitch, you can't do what I do!"

Me: "Uh... I know. I was literally just telling him that."

Stripper: "I see you talking smack!"

Me: "No! I agree with you!"

Then she went upside down on a pole, doing crazy shit that I can’t even do in my fantasies shouting “Bitch, you come up here and try it!” Ma’am, I absolutely cannot use my own leg and the pull of gravity to gradually lower myself on a metal pole to the stage floor while being pelted with dollar bills. I just can’t! I’m impressed and not about to try it!

So the weekend was… interesting. But I have some new evaluating to do. I feel that all the men I am involved with romantically (or, rather, have been) are just not as fucking cool as they obviously think they are. But it’s really on me now- why do I pick people who are so self-centered? I need to cut these people out and broaden my horizons to the nice guys of the world.

Mob Remodel

Contractors from NJ still in my office. This must be the longest remodel project of all time.

Another classy television personality

The conversation that just happened was this:

NJ Contractor: So I got a video tape.

Me: … okay…?

NJ Contractor: It’s of Karen Gravano smokin’ crack and givin’ blow jobs to black guys.

Me: Who the hell is that? Why do you have this?

NJ Contractor: Karen Gravano! From Mob Wives! Her fatha murdered Jack’s fatha! We are going to nail har with this tape!

Me: Why would she be doing that and/or letting anyone video tape it?

NJ Contractor: I know some guys who owe me a fava….

Me: I don’t want to know any more about this. I feel like an accomplice.

Does anyone else ever have to deal with this shit at work? Seriously? Please just finish remodeling my office so I can get some work done and don’t have to wonder if at some point I’ll be sleepin’ with the fishes in a pair of concrete shoes. I want to go back to worrying about my regular, suburban white girl problems of unrequited love, bad cell phone reception, and the need to go grocery shopping so I can stop eating ice cream for breakfast.