Bitter G Rant.

I worked until 7 pm, almost killed myself getting home in the f’in ice – the ONE time the weatherman was right. Oh – and did I mention that, although I didn’t actually break my femur, I did lose my absolutely adorable black suede Mary Janes in the process? But, wait – there’s more – who’s ready for the icing on this cake? I run into my token single gal friend (it’s DC, we’re a minority) on the Metro who I haven’t spoken with in weeks because she’s met a doctor and is in love. When she asks about who I’m dating and I say, “hmm, negative at the moment” – she gives me the head tilt, sad face followed by the “awwwwh”.

ahhhhhhh. One of those days - that I classify as "I should be taking a bath with my toaster" days.

Your frozen to the core, soakin' wet pal -
G

The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough

Rarely do I comment on in-depth articles, but when one of my beloved readers emailed me in an uproar about this article, I promised I'd respond. It's a really long article, but the gist of the article is that women 30 and over, should go ahead and marry the next guy they date. Marriage for the sake of saying you're married.

I went so far as to research the author, because I was shocked by the article. She's normally a comedic writer, partnering with folks from Jon Stewart's camp and all. Now, there are some pieces of this argument that make sense:

"Because if you want to have the infrastructure in place to have a family, settling is the way to go." - This is undeniably true. If all you want is that white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog, you should run off with the next person you meet. Ultimately, you don't want a husband, your goal is a lifestyle.

"Our culture tells us to keep our eyes on the prize (while our mothers, who know better, tell us not to be so picky), and the theme of holding out for true love (whatever that is—look at the divorce rate) permeates our collective mentality." - Again, true stuff. I love my married friends for the 'pep talks', but hearing how "he's out there" just makes me cringe. There is no "he", just like in The Matrix, there was no spoon.

"I used to listen each week to a litany of unrelenting complaints about people’s husbands and feel pretty good about my decision to hold out for the right guy, only to realize that these women wouldn’t trade places with me for a second, no matter how dull their marriages might be or how desperately they might long for a different husband." - Ah - this is the other half of the 'pep talk', for every "He's out there", I always hear the mumbling "but thank god I don't have to date -- I wouldn't be able to do it". Admit it, married ladies, no matter how bad the day is, it's undeniably comforting to know that if you need to collapse, someone is there. Sure, they may not do the laundry quite right, take care of the kid the way you'd like, but when you need them, there is a bug killer, garbage taker-outer... you get the gist.

A bunch of somewhat valid points -- until I ran into this one:
"But when I think about marriage nowadays, my role models are the television characters Will and Grace, who, though Will was gay and his relationship with Grace was platonic, were one of the most romantic couples I can think of. What I long for in a marriage is that sense of having a partner in crime. Someone who knows your day-to-day trivia. Someone who both calls you on your bullshit and puts up with your quirks. So what if Will and Grace weren’t having sex with each other? How many long- married couples are having much sex anyway?"
Ah - Now I have a place to argue. For starters, Will & Grace weren't romantic. Partners in crime, perhaps, but there is no romance between a gal and her gay best friend. Anyone that thinks otherwise repeat after me, "You will NEVER have him."

So, let's put sexual orientation aside - the author still thinks it would be easier to to live with a platonic housemate. Does she not realize that in exchange for your own, platonic housemates come with their own quirks and BS to put up with? Quirky irrational rationales like "you're a girl so clearly you should pay more than half for the toilet paper because you use more."

And here's my biggest beef - WHY aren't long-married couples having much sex? Honestly married folks - take a lesson from Nike and Just Do It. Stop ruining my disillusionment that this is one of the main reasons to marry. Frankly - if you didn't enjoy sleeping with your husband to begin with, you shouldn't have married him. That's my humble, and probably arguable, opinion, but if I do marry someone, that's one of the top reasons on my list.

Now, though, I realize that if I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, I’m at the age where I’ll likely need to settle for someone who is settling for me. - I've left many people for this reason. I file it under "I'd rather be alone for the right reasons". I've got enough Number 2 in my life, than to be Number 2 to someone else.

"Those of us who choose not to settle in hopes of finding a soul mate later are almost like teenagers who believe they’re invulnerable to dying in a drunk-driving accident." - Are you kidding me? That's right - I feel I'm like an invulnerable child... Oy Vay, lady... seriously. I don't know who she spoke with, but I don't know who over age 30 believes in this 'magical white knight', that's the same thing as believing in Santa, kids.

At least she comes to her senses in the end:
"I acknowledge the power of the grass-is-always-greener phenomenon, and allow for the possibility that my life alone is better (if far more difficult) than the life I would have in a comfortable but tepid marriage." -- At least she "possibly" admits she could be better off.

There's a lot of food for thought in this article... it took a very long time to dissect it. After reading it, am I running off to settle?

Anyone that's asking that question deserves a cyber bitch slap, but I'll answer anyway.

No - despite the fact that my life can be boring (yes, I know that's hard to believe), that I have to carry groceries and defend myself against bugs. I'm not ready for trading in my lingering Sunday brunches or split decision Saturday happy nappys.

For what? Someone who sorta likes me because he's lazy and doesn't feel like looking for someone that he really loves? Or someone that really doesn't do it for me but hey, at least I don't have to work for a living? Admittedly, tempting at times to Anna Nicole Smith an old fart - but hey, I'm way to stubborn to let that line of thinking win. Oh, and I have that whole "integrity" thing.

At least for now... according to the author of this article, in 3 1/2 years, I'll be ready to settle and it will be too late.

Ah well - I was never a fan of deadlines.

Similies, Metaphors and Lyrics, Oh My!

Melissa and I used to have a competition. It was who could go the longest during the work day talking in nothing but Phil Collins and Genesis lyrics. How is this possible? Oh - you find ways. For example:

"Did you understand that call?" - "No, I'm in the Land of Confusion."
"How's your day?" "Just another day in paradise."
"What's the weather? Oh, I wish it would rain down."

All kidding aside, we constantly forced each other to have to think creatively... I credit her with helping to create my honed, pithy wit.

So - after yesterday's similies and metaphors, I decided I would spend the whole day (which just ended about 30 minutes ago) coming up with as many similies and metaphors as I could think of. A few:

• "drier than the sahara at sunset"
• "slower than a texan speaks" (from a co-worker)
• "slurring worse than a sailor on sambuca"
• "peeing like a pirate w/a peg leg" (my new favorite)

Oh - I also had a complete terrets meltdown... and apologized for being "too Jersey" when I referred to an organization as "the guys who are dickin' around with our cashola".

Yea - LOVELY.

Smooch -

G

Lost In Translation

I've always been a fan of cultural differences. Those of you who recall the good ol' Atkins days, will remember my obsession with British accents when Atkins went global. Heck, I even forced Schmeff to go to London, so I could actually get away with saying 'elloooooooooo for a few days... or at least leave a drunken message on the Doyles answering machine saying 'ello.

Moving south of the Mason Dixon comes with its own set of cultural differences. "You guys" up North always mock my new found appreciation for "y'all" and when hard pressed, or after a few drinks "all y'all", which I've learned from an Alabama pal.

A recent discovery here is the love of similies and metaphors with Southerners. Being in communications and dealing with messages all day long, the similie is a well known tactic, but my boss has taken this to a whole new, and uncomfortable level. For example:

"It's like shooting a gun in a barrel, instead of shooting a gun in a swimming pool."

Huh?

Yea, I don't get it either.

Today, we discussed metaphors... one that came up was from a high-powered DC politician who said "just because ya put yer boots in the oven, doesn't make'em taste like biscuits".

Ok - still don't get it... but sounds MUCH better when a Southerner says it.

Then, my co-worker said "colder than a witch's tit in a brass brazziere"

Wha? Followed up by:

"yea.... It's like a cold hog on Christmas".

This one made sense to me, because, yea, a hog is cold on Christmas... so I said, yea... I get it.

Turns out, that one was made up.

Hmmmm.... Still trying to figure out why that would be funny. A hog should be cold on Christmas, it's cold out.

Ah well, I guess I'll never fully understand the culture here either!

-G

My First Boycott and More!

I'm boycotting Bed, Bath & Beyond for sending a promo that reads "Getting married? Or know someone who is?" to a single gal just nine short days before Valentine's Day. F'tards.

In other news - my co-worker sent me this article below. I don't usually share this stuff often, but I thought it presented an interesting challenge and I still haven't come up with my six words. Would love to hear what you all come up with!

Short on words, deep in meaning

When SMITH magazine asked readers for their six-word memoirs, the miniature life stories had huge impact.
By Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser February 5, 2008

Everyone has a story. That's the tag on the masthead of SMITH, our online magazine. Yet until we asked the world to send us six-word memoirs, even we had no idea how true it was.

We took a page from Ernest Hemingway. According to legend, he was challenged to write a novel in only six words and came up with "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." We posed the same challenge online, but we asked for true-life stories -- in just half a dozen well-chosen words.

To launch the challenge, we posted examples from names we figured most readers would know, such as "Eat, Pray, Love" author Elizabeth Gilbert ("Me see world! Me write stories!"; she naturally e-mailed hers in from an airport runway in Indonesia) and celebrity chef Mario Batali (he sent seven, each enlightening but none as pitch-perfect as "Brought it to a boil, often").

More than 15,000 (and counting) submissions later, we arecontinually struck by what proves possible in just six words.The short, short life stories keep coming in. As we type this, a quick glance reveals that Emily Hambridge "wanted to write but feared failure." With half a dozen words and a few clicks of the keyboard, she's just rewritten the story of her life.

What's yours?

• Ex-wife and contractor now have house. -- Drew Peck
• Wasn't born a redhead; fixed that. -- Andie Grace
• Chinese immigrant loathing drama in Anaheim. -- Eric Wong
• Can't tonight, watching "Law & Order." -- Rory Evans
• Found true love, married someone else. -- Bjorn Stromberg
• Fifteen years since last professional haircut. -- Dave Eggers
• One tooth, one cavity, life's cruel. -- John Bettencourt

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-smith5feb05,0,2828406.story?track=ntothtml

Warning: This Girl Requires Adult Supervision

Ah, freshly back from Jersey after a lovely weekend of playing catch up with the SJ crew. On Saturday, I got to spend quality time with the Doyle family, where we partook in one of the staples of American culture, the family road trip. The road trip has evolved from our prior trips of yore when a road trip consisted of a case of beer in the trunk, the radio blaring, windows down for cigarette smoking and driving under 85 mph was prohibited.

Still fun, though. And we still always play my favorite car game, "Which Way Are You Going?" This is when stopped at the same traffic light in Mt. L that we've gotten caught at for the last 13 years, Schmotty announces the route that he's taking and everyone yells at him that he's taking the long/wrong way.

This time, Schmotty, tried to change the game by asking "Which Way Do You Want Me To Go?", but, unfooled, we both insisted it was whatever way HE wanted to go. Confused, he tried to phone his lifeline, but was unsuccessful.

There's also some new guest stars of our family road trip - the kids, or in this case, Ms. SmartyPants Princess Emily Doyle (her official name).

I'm normally pretty good with kids, in fact, I'm usually the one dressed up like Cinderella while the women talk about birthing and the men talk about home repair... but being the only gal who doesn't have one of these at home, on occasion, I forget how well little ears can hear and how some matter isn't suitable for children. Conversation in point:

Scotty: Have you ever seen Roadhouse? (note: this is a totally out of the blue, non-sequitor question)
G: No.
Scotty: No?
G: No, I'm not a man... or a lesbian. Why would I have seen Roadhouse?
Emily: Lesbian
G: Ut oh.
Emily: Lesbian?
G: Shit
G: I mean crap!
Dee: Peanut butter, peanut butter, peanut butter.

Hopefully, I haven't severely damaged her.

Smooch -
G

E) None of the above.

I was asked today to tell my most recent boy story. There it is: E) None of the above.

Sobriety, lameness and cold weather have put me into hibernation. No boys at the moment to report.

Ok - that's not entirely true, but until I have a good story, as they say on Facebook, "I got nothing for you."

Up North for the weekend for a very important b-day tea party. Speaking of important birthdays, a VERY HAPPPPPPPPPPY Birthday to one of my super favorite, very special readers, Mr. M. Mixologist! I hope you're out tonight cleaning out wallets around a poker table.

See you South Jersey folks in a few! Can't wait.

Smooch -
G

G Envy

Here's how my day went down:

9:30 AM - G defeats Son of Hoppy - loses ability to breathe normally for 15 minutes

10 AM - G hits gym for hour long cardio workout in attempt to regain normal breathing function and to make up for lazy Saturday that involved pizza

11 AM - G takes power shower including all the girly trimmings... hot oil hair treatment, sugar scrub, buffing, you name it.

12 PM - G makes breakfast

12:30 PM - G reads Sunday Washington Post (2 weeks in a row! you'd think i have a job working with the media)

1 PM - G calls friends to solidfy game plan for The Fantasty Foot Ball

1:30 PM - G heads to The Four Seasons in Georgetown

2 PM - G meets friend for The Fantasy Foot Ball - where she window shops and tries on numerous pairs of gorgeous shoes that range from $200 - 500. Despite the vodka/champagne/Chambord cocktails the bartender gives her for free, G refrains from buying most adorable pair of stilettos ever. (Extra Details for shoe fetish freaks: Brazilian shoemaker who handmade 100 pairs of these cute black and red patent leather polka dot shoes with red bows and red heels). G also realizes that she can't actually walk in stilettos.

5:30 PM - G returns home from The Fantasy Foot Ball.

6 PM - G surfs web, eats dinner.

7:30 PM - G's massage therapist comes over for hour long massage.

A few of you are groaning right now, some of you are saying 'life's tough'. If every day was this lovely Sex & the City life, I'd agree... but in my defense, yesterday was Utie day, i.e. G stays in bed all day while Utie makes her life miserable. And - the grass is always greener -- I'd love to be watching my husband slay Hoppy, be crockpotting like Melissa or playing princess with my adorable daughter(s) like I'm sure the rest of you are doing.

Instead - I'm playing dress up for adults and some lovely man with white gloves was cooking for me.

Hey - someone's gotta do it.

Smooch!

-G

PS - Melissa - you know I'm only kidding about the crockpotting. There's no way on earth I'd rather be cooking. But, I wouldn't mind having your Hungarian Goulash. You wouldn't even have to wear the cute white gloves like they do at The Four Seasons.

Son of Hoppy.

Ugh - I had to defeat a bug this morning. About 1/4 of the size of normal Hoppy - I'm calling him Son of Hoppy. Seriously, scary stuff. I used my couch as my defense blocker. Now, my whole place reeks of bug and hair spray because the thing kept moving. Ok, one leg kept moving, but neither were making it stop alone, so I took a lesson from Ghostbusters and crossed streams.

Pretty sure I may have some lung damage from breathing that in, so going to try to get some fresh air at the gym.

Smooch -
G

Conference Calls on Saturdays Make Me Cranky.

Truly. Ugh - nothing is worse then knowing you have to get your job done. At least I like the people I had to talk to today, but, still doesn't make up for working on a Saturday. Ick.

Healthy is Hazardous...

Good Morning All -

Hello from freezing cold, gray Rhode Island... where the temp has been about 23 degrees. I may be off the wagon - but I have to say the whole exercise thing has stuck with me. Seeing as I've developed a lovely insomnia problem where I sleep less than 6 hours every day, I was wide awake at 5 AM, bouncing off the walls... so I went to the hotel's gym.

In true Bridget Jones, or, G fashion... couldn't get thru the first 2 hours of the day without a story, or an injury. The gym equipment here was so old, they must've bought it from Jane Fonda's original collection (or, if I was this hotel, that's what I'd say to account for the crappy stuff). The treadmill had 2 settings - on and off... before I figured that out of course, I flew off twice. I tried what I thought was the elliptical runner, but was actually some device that resembled a retarded stair climber tied together by rope (imagine if you were walking with your shoe laces tied together -- pretty much what this piece of equipment was like). Luckily, smarty pants G realized that wasn't going to work, so I got off that one. Safely.

Then I moved on to the bike, which I managed to put a good 30 minutes on, and cool down on the treadmill that I felt confident to master... until my client walked in... which set me off balance.

But, thankfully, I recovered! Whew! Doesn't sound so bad, does it? I felt rather proud, until of course, I cut my tongue on the bottle of water that cost me $4 from my hotel room. It's still bleeding. Ow.

Work, work, work, now... a 15 hour day yesterday, and another one on the way today! And I get the added bonus of travelling door to door with my boss. YAHOO!

BTW - Thanks for all the Heath Ledger txt messages yesterday... my boss kept hearing my phone going off and thought there was a work crisis. I finally announced, "worse, there's been a celeb crisis"... turns out all my clients were getting the same emails on theik Blackberrys...

:-)

Stay warm!

Smooooch!
-G

PS - Did I mention over dinner last night that I disclosed to my boss, coworkers AND clients that I used to be a skate betty/pseudo goth that wore all black, with the dr. seuss tights and shaved hair? OR that I transitioned into a Phish lovin' hippy thru college?

Ok -- Public Debate...

This is from Melissa... surely, I have another reader that agrees American Idol bites.

I refuse to play with someone who doesn't see the similarities between american idol and rock of love. they're the same show, except for the stripping.

washed up 80s musicians: check
fat dudes(big john and randy jackson): check
scantilly clad women: check
talentless individuals making fools of themselves: check
too many commercials: check

Why I'm the Worst Best Friend You Can Have...

I'm off today... but it's negative 4 out there and I've finished my laundry. Sure, I'm a week late on a major work project, but that would negate me being off.

So how do I spend my day? Harrassing Melissa... trying to get her to join Facebook, convincing her that she can play Word Racer and not get caught... attempting to call her place of business as a client named Ida Wannaplay.

I know... it's evil. But she calls me all day long at work, because she refuses to sign up for IM. And she tortures me by telling me jokes, knowing that I have no office, no wall, no ability to do anything but cough to try to cover up laughing and hide behind a tissue that has the tears streaming down my cheeks.

Mutually evil. Pay back is a bee-atch.

Shameless Plugs!!

I'm no Oprah... but since I got into several heated discussions over my "Crapball Idol" assessment, I'm going to give you a few things that I highly recommend:

TV:
1. The Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo - literally, just watching the show as I type this. Completely hysterical watching a gal from Philly try to pair our millionaire freaks of nature... makes my typical dates look normal.

2. Rock of Love 2 - it's Bret Michaels... any gal that went thru the glam rock phase will love this show. Any dude will love the slutty gals. Plus Bret manages to sing "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" every other episode... it's classic.

Movies:
3. Superbad - made me laugh so hard I had to hold on to something. Fo' Sho.

Music:
4. Blue October - dark, yet rockin'... reminds me of a rocked-out version of The Cure, one of my childhood favorites.

5. Regina Sayles - I know, this is the 2nd time I've mentioned her. She's simply amazing though.

There is a Grown Up In Everyone One of Us...

Some are just better at hiding it than others.

For those of you who awaiting the great crazy story of what became of G after her post that she was diving off the wagon into the great abyss of vices, man, I'm so sorry to disappoint!

No, another drink wasn't designed for me, I wasn't given a tiara or beads and I didn't wake up covered in confetti or pink feathers. Was my bar bill significantly comped? Well - membership has it priveleges... which don't get taken away after 18 days of being away.

I was very tame on Friday, I had 3 beers over the course of 4 hours while playing pool with my pal, Ginger.

Disappointing, huh? I know - I even turned down the oppy to go out last night to the Black Cat - a DC establishment partly owned by Foo Fighter's Dave Grohl, that I still have yet to visit, which is shameful considering I live less than 3 blocks from it.

As for the alcohol, I pretty much sweat that out of me after an hour of ridiculously intense cardio at the gym yesterday.

My mother tried to raise the stakes and get me to re-bet... $200. She called me a wuss when I turned her down. How she learned the word "wuss" but still doesn't know that "slut" doesn't equate to "lush", I'll never know. For those of you who didn't know or weren't there, my mother, thinking she was calling me a drunk, called me a slut at a family reunion once in front of a room full of stunned family members. After my father whispered in her ear what that meant, she tried to retract and say that she meant to say "slush", but then he had to grab her and explain that didn't mean anything at all. God bless the Polish people of the world...

But what you want to know is what this means for the blog, right? Well - I'm not sure. I'm doing my best to find my inner grown up... I'm even sitting next to the Sunday paper and sipping on coffee as I write this.

I think its a safe bet that I won't fully stick to the straight and narrow -- but, like y'all seem to do so much better than me... I'll try super hard! And for those of you who think that me becoming a grown up leads to the destruction of the universe, I like you best! Like Melissa who called and said that she was happy I fell off the wagon because she felt that my behavior is essential for proper balance of the universe.

Some things just go together... PB & J, Captain & Tenille.... you get my drift.

Smooch!
-G

18 days.

Dear Readers -

As I always say, "If I were perfect, I'd be a statue." As Billy Joel says, "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints..."

After a week of 12 hour days, I officially give in. I am about to head out, and take a big flying leap off the wagon.

Not to say, I won't try again tomorrow... but right now, I'm knowin' when to fold'em. I called my dad, told him the news.

"Dad, I'd rather die younger, than live longer and sober."

He laughed so hard he snorted. Then said "I'll tell Mom you'll give her the $50 tomorrow."

Everyone has their price, and to me, the Clean Jean lifestyle is not worth the $50 bucks.

What about the commitment, the pride? I'll get over it.

Smooches,
G

everyone is out tonight...

the co-workers hit a happy hour and i stayed at work until 7 to finish a project. Monday & Tuesday, I didn't wrap up until 10. Sobriety sucks.

CrapBall Idol

Seriously - it's 9:20pm. I'm just wrapping up work - is it humanly possible to have ONE decent show on TV? The only thing on is American Idol.

Which should be renamed CrapBall Idol... I don't know HOW you people watch this stupid show... it has to be the dumbest thing ever made. Why do we need to watch people making complete morons of themselves singing badly? Do people not have enough interaction with stupid people all day long? I know I do. Ugh - there isn't enough alcohol on the planet to make this amusing, and worse, I'm sober.

Preparing for the wrath...
-G

Close Call..

A VERY trying day at work today. One which, if I was off the wagon, I would've been under a bar stool right now. Oy.

But - once again, my stubborness prevailed and I'm still clear, 13 days in, 32 days to go. I've even found new ways to manage my stress - I went for a walk to clear my head... and, after the thoughts of breaking my resolution passed, was considering hitting the gym tonight.

Pretty good, eh?

A Beauuuuutiful Day in the Neighborhood.

I have the cutest neighborhood, where I spent all day. Somehow, I can't seem to go a day without spending money, today being no exception - mani, lunch w/my pal, hardware store, groceries. Wait, did she just say hardware store AND groceries?

Yup - I went to the hardware store to finally finish my shelving system that I assembled on my wall. I had an extra shelf that was making me bonkers in my closets which needed to go, so I could finally reorganize them. I'm a machine, kids, I know. Boundless energy. WIRED. I've been to this particular store several times during my painting adventure, and I must say today, they tag teamed me with customer service. Before I could say brackets and nails, they were in my hands with a smile.

People in this neighborhood are so friendly. The women at the nail place loved my cute little red purse that Dee bought me... they took turns walking with it in front of the mirror, giggling about cooing over how little and pretty it was.

I tried to give back for all the good vibes I was getting and gave some guy a pen in the grocery store who was deseparately trying to fill out a job application. My Soviet Safeway, still sucks btw, waiting for over a 1/2 hour in line for 4 items - but iVanka kept me company.

And now it's back to the homestead... the tiger dream left me without a restful sleep. That's right, I'm old, but it's pretty fun!

Smooch,
G