Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Why Crazy Women Exist.

First, please watch this youtube video:
Alright, so clearly Miranda Lambert is a little bit hotter to guys than most crazy girls out there, but if you're looking for reasoning behind the multitudes of insane females across the globe, her music video illustrates my theory perfectly.

Men. Make. Women. Crazy.

Now, logically speaking, men aren't always to blame. Not every man out there is a cheating, filthy, piece of you know what, and women aren't innocent either. However, coming from a woman's standpoint, I can tell you that one bad apple always ruins the bunch. Get screwed over by a guy once in your life, and that's all it takes to make a cynical lunatic out of you for the rest of it. Now, you may be able to maintain a relationship with a dude and things will be puppies and butterflies for a while, but you'll have crazy tendencies that will lead to him either, leaving you for the psycho you've masked so well up to this point, or your paranoia will drive him to yet another act of unsportsmanlike conduct that will leave you one more scar on your already tainted heart. Sad, huh?!

Nevertheless, I believe the main reason why women go crazy over guys is because they don't know when it's not crazy to be crazy; they don't know which male behaviors are ok to get in a tizzy over and which ones make you look like a looney, if you get upset about them.

So, I've decided to compile a list of hypothetical scenarios that call for acts of insanity and ones that most certainly do not. I'll even color coordinate it for you!
  • If you have a man, who is notorious for cheating, pushing limits, taking risks, or blowing entire paychecks at strip-clubs- I say it's ok for you to go through his phone.
  • If you have a man who volunteers at an animal shelter, helps elderly women cross the street, gives his McDonald's to the homeless bum who sits outside in December- it's not ok to call his most recently dialed number which is labeled "Grandma" on a mission to cuss out whoever picks up because you have an inkling that he's cheating.
  • If you've been dating a guy for 7 years, and he doesn't respond to your texts or call you at the end of the night, when he's out with the boys- you have reason to give him the silent treatment.
  • If you've been dating a guy for 7 hours and he doesn't respond to your text which read "Hey Baby Boo Bear!!!! :) :) :) :)" after 20 minutes- you might have more than just a problem with texting. But then again if you're texting a guy phrases like that then you probably aren't very good at giving the silent treatment either. So, I guess we don't really need to worry about that.
  • If your guy spends more time at work than at home and tells you he had to stay late at the office until 3 am because of a meeting...  and he works at Starbucks- it's ok for you to follow him in your car during his next shift.
  • If you are dating this guy

and you suspect he's "at work" and up to no good- get over it. Because if you're dating Justin Timberlake, I don't really think you should be taking relationship advice from a girl like me... you seem to be doing alright on your own.

Now boys, don't think you're getting off the hook that easy.
If you wish for more normal girls to exist, be a good guy. Don't cheat, don't lie, don't be shady. Otherwise, you'll wind up in an awful situation with an ugly crazy stalker chick, who as a good friend once told me, has pancake boobs. And nobody likes pancake boobs. 
See Exhibit B(About the girl, not the boobs.):

Care for some rabbit stew, gentlemen?

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

I like old people.

Wrinkles, funny smells, war stories, shameless opinions... what's not to like?!

I find that when you discuss the subject of elderly folks with people my age, you come across two differing standpoints. Those who are lovers and those who are haters.

I've got a lot of friends who can't stand old people; they get depressed by just looking at them. And I can see why. Aches and pains, added dietary fiber, walkers, wheelchairs, cataracts, Depends, bi-focals- none of those words have very appealing connotations.

However, for some unbeknownst reason... old people make me laugh. Like to the point that I need to take anti-inflammatory meds from the ab-workout their jokes give me. It's like they've absorbed the humor of all the comedians from the beginning of time, and with one little wink, after an under-their-breath side remark, they have me rolling on the floor, cracking up for hours on end.

Old people are funny, because they know they are funny. Just listen to an old person tell a joke. They never laugh at themselves, even though they are very obviously kidding. It's all about the punch-line, followed by the serious, un-effected, "Hey, what's-so-funny?" face.

Hell, I visited an older gentlemen in a nursing home once, and he flat out asked me if he could give me a kiss... said that I was just his type of woman. He was about 90 years old and I was probably 20. It made me laugh so hard, I almost had to excuse myself to use the restroom. And he got a kick out of the fact that I got a kick out of him. But, I could tell that he still wanted to kiss me, because when he looked in the mirror at himself, the fella he saw was a strapping, young guy who looked like this...

But from my perspective, he looked like this...

So, although, I didn't let his denture-less smacking gums come anywhere near my lips, that old guy actually made me blush. I mean, at one point or another in his life, he resembled James Dean (hot.), and he was probably the biggest ladies man around during his heyday, so I had to respect him for that.

Ya see, in his day, he didn't tell girls they were fine or hot; he told them they were stunning. And women didn't dress like sleaze-balls to attract men; they allured guys by the sexy way in which they carried themselves. Hence, fewer divorces back then. Because relationships were built on personable compatibility, not on lust. Crazy concept, I know.

The amount of knowledge that people accumulate over a lifetime, is also the main reason why I can't get enough of elderly people. They are so smart and cultured, yet most of them have never stepped foot inside a college. I think I could sit and listen to old people tell stories for days upon days without getting bored.  It's almost like you're in the middle of the best book you've ever read when they recall their memories; remembering everything in such vivid detail, as if it happened to them the previous week, not 57 years prior. 

And they never sugar coat ANYTHING. The raw bluntness that elderly people use in conversation is a trait that I both desire and envy. I can't wait to tell it like it is. You think my blog's good now? Wait until I'm 70.

Yes, sometimes they are senile. Literally whacked-out-of-their-minds crazy. But that's ok. I don't pity people who are insane from  old age. Because if you talk to them for long enough, you sense that they still got it... even if "it" is just a memory. The day their son hit a home-run for the first time in little league, or the moment they first knew they wanted to marry their spouse, or the night they snuck out and drank their first beer with their best friend. Most of the time, old people still have something they hold dear to them, which is, to me, what makes them human... relatable... just like me. When you stop to think about it, the ability to keep a memory so fresh in their mind, palpable enough that they can laugh or cry when they recall it, is such a wonderfully beautiful thing. Even if everything else sitting in their brain is complete mush.

So, don't feel bad for old people. They've lived, loved, made mistakes, and experienced the world in more ways than you can imagine. Ask them about it. And if you're one of those people who feels uncomfortable talking to elderly folks, close your eyes and picture them as James Dean... in his underwear. That may or may not help you.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

To Bleach or Not To Bleach...

I recently colored my hair a very light brown with very, very light blonde highlights. For those of you who don't know me, I was born with deep, rich brunette hair, so this was a very drastic change.

The reasoning behind the change? Well, mostly boredom I suppose, however... I've always been secretly jealous of the attention that blondes receive from both men and women, alike. So as I was debating on what I wanted to do with my hair before my hair appointment, I thought, hell... why not? I mean, if you're gonna do something, do it all the way... right?

Before I go any further, please note that I am also using this as a scientific experiment. I want to know if I really will have more fun as a blonde. For those of you who do know me, you know I am no stranger to a good time... so we'll see if this increases or decreases the intensity of potential amusement.

Alright, now... I have bigger fish to fry.

I used to date a guy who adamantly defended his theory that women who wear make-up, or take their time getting ready, or actually brush their hair in the morning, are vain, unconfident people and that women possessing this personality characteristic are irreversibly unattractive. He thought that women should be confident enough in their natural beauty to just shower and go... no matter where their destination was, no matter who they were going to see, no matter what their circumstance at the time was. If a woman could do that, then she would be completely flawless in his eyes, no matter what her physical appearance looked like.

This "theory" used to really piss me off. And just so you know,  I no longer speak to that moron. (Imagine my face smirking.)

Ok, now hold your breath...

I'm proud to say that I love wearing make-up. I use a curling iron on my hair almost every morning. And I've been known to try on multiple outfits before I go out at night with my friends. Let the gasping commence.

I am one of the most outgoing people around town. I can say I have a good amount of confidence and there are days that I roll out of bed, throw my hair in a pony tail and stroll into work with no make up on my face. However, if I decide to take my time getting ready, it's just because I happen to feel like doing so. To me, this is an expression of my creativity. I rarely do my make-up or hair exactly the same way twice and I enjoy experimenting with new looks, styles and colors.

No matter what look I'm going for, whether it be sweats and Chuck Taylor's or a little black dress with stilettos,  I take it and I run with it.

And of course, I want to look nice. I don't want to go out and get completely ignored by guys because I look like a huge slob and my friends are dressed for prom. Trust me, if guys went off personality alone when it came to dating, there would be a lot less crazy, psychotic ex-girlfriends out there, because guys would date normal, average looking girls, instead of beautiful raging lunatics.

But hey, ya can't win 'em all.

So... to all the men out there who long for a woman who rolls out of bed resembling Heidi Klum on one her good days, please start working on losing that beer belly before you set your standards any higher. And heaven forbid that doesn't work out for you, well... enjoy living in your partially furnished bachelor pad when you're 67 years old.

Oh yeah, and not to throw Heidi under the bus or anything, but guess what boys?!... she's a natural brunette.

And last but certainly not least... Happy Birthday Mom! :)

Sunday, May 1, 2011

If You Like Piña Coladas...

I'm the kind of person that goes into the room, first figuring out the perfect escape route as I simultaneously make small talk with my mom's best friend's friend's cousin's dog walker, and then I settle in and make myself comfortable. I have a few theories that I use to explain this.

  1. Fight or flight. Biological instincts. I'm preparing myself for the worst. Which, in many cases, is having to make small talk with my mom's best friend's cousin's dog walker.
  2. Something I did in a past life brings me bad karma and I get stuck in awkward situations that force me to immediately remove myself from.
  3. You're reading the blog of the prodigal daughter of James Bond and I'm secretly honing skills for a future career in secret agentry. This is the theory that I find most plausible.
So yea, I'm a gal who chickens out and feels the urge to escape certain situations, rather than dealing with them like an adult. But hey, don't we all get that way sometimes? Life's rough. Gas is almost 5 bucks a galloon. The economy is quickly making it's way down the tubes. Global warming is frying our skin. We have every reason to dream of taking a vacation away from reality.

For me, it all started when I was about 6 years old. My older brother and his friend decided they didn't want me tagging along with them one summer day. Which caused me to burst into tears, feeling unwanted and alone. I ran inside, swinging the front door open, sobbing to my mother that I was running away from home because no one here wanted me around. I was going to pack up my belongings as quickly as possible, walk out the front door and never turn back. In laughter, she tried to tell me as kindly as she could (fighting through chuckling) that I was being irrational (Me? Irrational? Nooooo... not me.) and that she loved me and wanted to keep me around, least for a few more good years. But being the drama queen that I was destined to be, I wouldn't hear a word of it, stuffed as many barbies as I could in a handkercheif, tied it in a knot, and tried to find a stick that I could attach my makeshift luggage to. I envisioned how this entire scene would look to my mean brother and his friend, the one's who drove me to such extremes. I wanted to look as depressing as this...
But they didn't even notice I was gone, they just kept playing cowboys and indians. And since at 6, I knew it was pointless to live a life of poverty if no one would even miss me in the process, I got to the end of the street, turned around, went back inside and said "Ma, I'm back. I'll take a PB&J Sandwich. Lightly toasted."

The next time I can remember myself wanting to relocate was when I was a freshman in high school, and all my best friends made the volleyball team, and I got cut. I still think the team could have benefited from having a 5th setter on their roster, but hey... what do I know?

Then, we have the time that I was going through dramatics with boys in college and started googling schools in South Carolina. I've never been to South Carolina, but I thought that it would be a cool enough place to put on my invitation to my going-away party, the event that I planned on asking every boy who's ever broken my heart to attend. Again, I accept the fact that I was born a drama queen.

And finally, we come to the time when I had enough of winter in Ohio. I self diagnosed myself with Seasonal Depression Disorder and started looking at houses on the internet in Tennessee for me to move into. I even came close to making appointments with realtors. Mind you, I had about 250 bucks in my bank account at the time and maybe 14 bucks in savings. And I thought I was ready to purchase a home.

I never claimed to be the brightest crayon in the box.

Honestly, I'm the kind of person who fantasizes about dropping everything, starting from scratch, giving myself a clean slate. I see myself wearing big sunglasses with a silk scarf wrapped around my head, cruising top down, (I'd have a convertible just for this purpose), blasting "If You Like Piña Coladas" through my speakers and driving until I feel like I'm in a place that I could call home. Living out of my Nissan, with no money, no job lined up... just risking it all and letting destiny do it's job.

Actually, doing this would scare the living crap out of me, and of course I would never do it, without some kind of stability and structure to my plan, but it's nice to have a dream like this to take my mind off of the fact that I am putting $50 into my car, just to get half a tank of gas.

So, here is my dream, here is where I would live, here is the place that I escape to when things are getting hard to handle, and I feel the need to runaway from home...

This brings me to my fourth and final theory for why I always try to escape things. I just want to be able to say that I live in a "bungalow". That word makes me giggle.

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