Friday, November 30, 2012

The Self Conscious Introvert Gets Ready for a Party

I hate getting dressed up.

Ok, I don't hate it, but getting dressed up makes me very self conscious.

By my very nature, I tend to hide in a large group.  I'm generally self conscious about everything from how my hair looks to the size of my ass.

For work, I'm generally low key.  I wear glasses instead of contacts.  I let my curly hair do it's own thing and end up stuffing it into a messy bun 99% of the time.  I wear practically no make-up at all other than mascara and a bit of concealer.  I run around all the time so I rarely wear heels in the office anymore and 80% of my wardrobe is black.  Or charcoal.  Same difference.

So the thought of dressing up for our staff holiday party is daunting to say the least.

Every year for the party, I make a point of straightening my long hair (it's about 3/4 of the way down my back).  Wearing some lipstick and eyeshadow, popping in a pair of contact lenses and putting on a dress with some killer heels.

And every year I get people freaking out.  I mean the compliments are all very nice but it's the whole Clark Kent/Superman thing.  I apparently look DRASTICALLY different.  To the point that one year one of the partners walked right by me and didn't realize who it was.  And another year one of my friends had to do a double take.

So although the whole thing is fun, I don't love the attention.  And it makes me want to hide in the corner.

I learned last year, 5 inch red suede heels?  Don't really let you hide.

As some of my friends already know, I'm freaking out about it a bit this year.  I got the shoes, I have a dress but I'm starting to worry that it will be too cleavage revealing, I don't know what I'm going to do with my hair because it's too long and big and unmanageable and OMG I'm so pale!!!


Don't even get me going no worrying on if I'm going to wake up that day with a pimple or if my make-up will look stupid or if I'm just going to look totally ridiculous. 

Can ya tell panic has set in?

I mean I know I'm not alone in this.  Other people freak out too right?

I mean I've worked with these people for 5 years and it's only a cocktail party and dinner.  And it's company only so I don't have to worry about bringing a date.

OMG that would have started a whole other level of panic. 

I need a drink.



Monday, November 26, 2012

What is WRONG With Some People?!?!

Not often am I prompted to blog twice in one day.  Last time it happened, the result was "Twilight, 50 Shades of Grey and ACTUAL LITERATURE." That night, I was prompted to write because I was just baffled by something I had read on

Tonight, I am prompted to write because I have just encountered, what is possibly the biggest ASSHOLE to ever walk the face of the earth.

If ever there was an example of why I have stopped dating, this is it.

Years ago, my boss at the time joked with me that I attract assholes at an unnatural rate.  And that I should consider purchasing a t-shirt that said, "Assholes need not apply."

What I don't understand is why shitty people are just drawn to me.  I mean it can't be a karma thing.  Because unless I was like Hitler's best friend in a past life, nobody deserves this shit.

So tonight, on my way home from work.  I stopped off at the post office because I got a notice at my door that they had tried to deliver a package while I was at work.  Nothing strange there, I did my Christmas shopping last week and had ordered a few things online for people.

So I pick up my package, sign for it and am outside the post office adjusting things in my bag so I can easily carry the box home.  A man walked up to me and asked me if I had a light for his cigarette.  I politely said, "Sorry, I don't smoke."  Reasonable response right?  I don't smoke anymore and therefore don't have a lighter.

While I was continuing to shift around the things in my bad, the asshat turns to me and the conversation continues like this:

Asshole:  "Off to have a little fun?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Asshole: "You going to ride whatever's in that box?"
Me: "What?"
Asshole: "The only places that ship with unmarked packages are "Adult Stores" so you should have fun tonight."

At which point, my fucking brain exploded.

This random asshole, was basically jumping to the conclusion that I had bought a vibrator at an adult store online that shipped with "discreet" packaging.  All because I picked up a box from the post office that was plain brown, and didn't have a company listed.  I mean it didn't have plastered on it or some crap like that.

Who the hell says that to a random stranger?  I mean what's the motivation and how rude can you be?  If you're goal Mr.Asshat is for me to fling myself at you because I'm clearly in need of a good shag? And is that the way you think you're going to accomplish it?

If your motivation was to just be a rude asshole.  Job accomplished.  But why me?  I don't get it.  Of all the women on the street, on all the days.  Do you just wait outside the post office waiting for the opportunity to say inappropriate things to random women?  I mean I've heard of guys randomly flashing women and crap like that.  But who, the fuck says something like that?

I really don't get it.  I mean, I would really love it if someone could explain that shit to me because my brain just can't wrap itself around the situation.

What should I have said in response?

"Yeah baby, want to watch."

Then take him home and kill him because the world is obviously better off with out him.

"Clearly you're quiet educated in the process of ordering sex toys, your girlfriend must need them to help you once you're done."

But clearly an asshole like that doesn't actually have a girlfriend.  And if he does, RUN AWAY WOMAN!!!

"Why yes it is, because I'd rather never have sex ever again in my life with a human if that human is you!"

I really don't get it.  I mean, I probably had the stupidest look in my face as I gawked at this man, called him an asshole and walked away.

It took me a minute, to fully build up a proper rage over it.  And by the time I did, I was LIVID.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is?  I repeat, who the fuck says that to a random person??




p.s. In the box was a fucking handmade scarf I bought from

Where the heck does the time go??

I feel grossly neglectful recently because I haven't found the time to write.  AT ALL. 

Does anyone ever have chunks of time that pass by completely and you don't realize it till like a month later?  I mean where did early November go?  Better yet, where did my early 20s go?

I joke.  But seriously, I have been sooooooooo busy the past few weeks and have nothing to show for it.

I've been working a TON (cracked 70 hours in the office a few weeks ago). 

Have had a ton of appointments, therapy, chiropractor, optometrist, regular doctor, dentist. 

I've done all of my Christmas shopping (if you're a shopper who leaves it to the 24th....HA!!), helped my Dad with his Christmas shopping, written up all my Christmas Cards, and even helped my mother put up her Christmas Tree. 

Have read quite a bit, had random coffee dates/dinner dates with various friends.

Met with my book club for the first time (read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn if you get a chance). 

Seen a few movies (GO SEE SKYFALL!!).

All of which has resulted in the time flying by, and yet most of it is a blur because it happened so quickly. 

But if a friend bumped into me on the street and said, "What have you been up to?" I would totally draw a blank because I feel like I've done a whole lot of nothing. 

I think part of the issue is that I always feel so rushed, like I'm sprinting from one thing to the next that even when I'm relaxing or doing something social, I don't get to fully appreciate it.  Which kinda sucks. 

Does anyone else feel this way?  That you're busy but not actually enjoying any of it because you're so busy?  I mean even when I curl up with a book and my kitten to relax, I'm constantly thinking about the million and one things I have to do around the apartment.

I think for the New Year, we all need to just take a deep breath and enjoy things as they come.  But don't even GET me going on New Years resolutions.  I don't want to think about it yet.



Friday, November 9, 2012

If Men Were Like Dogs......Literally

A little while ago I was inspired to write "If Men Were Like Candles".

Now you guessed it, I'm going there.  It's time to compare the different male personalities to yup, dog breeds.

I considered doing cat breeds but I figure that would just result in...sleeps a lot, licks his own butt, sticks his butt in your face at inopportune moments, poops in a box.  And that's pretty much it.  There's much more available to me with dog breeds.

Now another disclaimer, this is not intended to offend anyone.  So if you find this post because you Googled "Men are Dogs" don't bitch at me.  I'm not the one Googling "Men are Dogs" :P

So without further ado:

The "Jack Russell Terrier" Man 
Jack Russell and Golden Retriever

Very active, easily excitable, probably enjoys hunting and chasing small animals.  A little bit yippy but loyal.

The "Golden Retriever" Man

Affectionate, family oriented, good with children, likes to BBQ with the family or hang out at the beach. I picture a guy in Dockers and a Polo shirt playing with kids in the sand. Sympathetic and caring towards the elderly and blind.  Good husband material.

The "English Bulldog" Man

English Bulldog and Doberman Pinscher
Constantly on your couch grumbling or sleeping.  Probably scratches his balls in public.  Drools a lot.  Not very energetic and a little rough looking.  Potentially unemployed by choice.  Probably
drinks a lot of beer and crushes the cans on his forehead before belching.

The "Doberman Pinscher" Man

A little over protective.  The kind of guy who will get into a bar fight to defend your honor.  Works out A LOT.
Probably wears a lot of black and/or drives a motorcycle.

The "Puli" Man

Puli and Chinese Crested
Wears hemp.  Owns a Hacky Sack.  Face it, he's probably a slacker and smokes a lot of pot. Quelle Surprise? No. Go buy him some Doritos.

The "Chinese Crested" Man

The metro-sexual.  Probably wears skinny jeans,
gets Mani-Pedis, exfoliates and owns more hair products than you do.  And lets be honest,  he does a decent amount of "Manscaping".

Sorry guys, I couldn't resist.



Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Therapy Turned Me into a Watering Pot

OK so I started "seeing someone."

No not a guy.  A therapist.  OK, actually she's a social worker.  But bottom line, I started talking to someone because I'm tired of feeling well tired.  Not physically tired but mentally and psychologically.

Best Cry Face EVER!
Now I've seen some immediate benefits and had a few "Ah ha!" kinda moments but what I've noticed the most is that going to therapy has turned me into a big bawling baby.

- I get good news, I cry
- I get bad news, I cry
- I'm tired, I cry
- I'm stressed about work, I cry
- Something disappoints me, I cry
- Something really cool happens, I start crying
- I read a book with a sappy ending, I cry
- I read a book with a horrible depressing ending, I cry
- I watch a depressing documentary on Netflix, I cry
- I go to therapy, I cry
- I get home from therapy, have a shower and have a substantial cry

You get where I'm going with this?  I feel like I'm crying over everything and it's driving me insane.  I am not a crier.  I mean seriously.  My grandfather passed away, I didn't cry at the funeral.  I've broken up with boyfriends totally dry eyed despite how upset I actually am at the time.

Now?  A fucking Hallmark commercial can make me cry.

I get that this is normal and blah blah, emotional release, it's healthy.  But it's pissing me off!!

So brain, hormones, whatever it is that's making me cry all the time, can we cut this shit out?


P.S. Am I mental?  Did any of my therapy going friends experience this?

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

The Joy of Gift Giving

Everyone loves getting gifts right?

I mean who wouldn't?

But there is a different level of joy that you can associate with GIVING gifts. 

Before I get too far I want to recount a story from back in the day when I was still in University and with my Ex-jerk of a boyfriend.

We had been dating for a year and I was working at Chapters (a bookstore for my American readers) and it was the night of our 1 year anniversary.  It was November and we were in the middle of a horrible snow storm.  Near the end of my shift, I got a phone call.  It was a florist calling to tell me he had a delivery for me but that he wouldn't make it by the end of my shift at 7pm because the roads were horrible.  He was asking if I could wait.  I said yes of course and in my excitement called my boyfriend because I knew it was him sending me flowers on our Anniversary.  I was 19 at the time and this would be the first time anyone had ever sent me flowers.  

Calling turned out to be a big mistake.  My Ex was so angry that the driver had spoiled his surprise that he called the florist and angrily cancelled the order.  He wanted it to be a big production of surprising me while I was at work, and now that the surprise was ruined it was no longer worth it. 

I was heartbroken.  I mean I was 19.  I wanted pretty flowers.  I didn't care that it wasn't a surprise anymore.  But to my Ex, the act of sending me flowers didn't have anything to do with me, or doing something nice for me.  It was all about the production and showmanship of it.  I guess he wanted to appear like a great boyfriend who made public displays for his girlfriend.  

I just wanted my flowers.  I found out later they were two dozen pink roses.  I also found out that they gave him a serious credit on his next purchase.  We were together for almost 4 years beyond that and I never did get my flowers. 

Now back to gift giving.  For me, giving gifts is all about making the recipient happy.  It's not about how much money you spend, or the production of it all.  It's about knowing that the person you gave the gift to, felt loved, happy, appreciated and so on.  It's about making a person feel special on their birthday, or about cheering them up when you know they've had a tough week.  Sometimes all it takes is a card.  Sometimes it's a silly gift.  Other times it's something you know they want but can't afford to buy for themselves.  Regardless of what the gift is, it should be about THEM.  Not you.  As the giver, your joy could come out of making someone you love smile.

Think back.  What was the best gift you ever got and why was it so special?



Monday, November 5, 2012

Have I Mentioned I Hate Christmas?

OK, let me rephrase.  I don't hate Christmas in and of itself.  What I hate is the 2 months of Ho Ho Ho BULLSHIT that the media, retail and nutjobs shove down your throats for the 2 months BEFORE Christmas.

Case in point.  On Halloween, I saw my first Christmas commercial on TV while I was actually watching "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."


And then, I was flipping channels and came across an infomercial for bloody artificial Christmas Trees.  ON HALLOWEEN!!  Is nothing sacred anymore people??

On the morning of November 1st, there were carols on in the stores, and all the displays of Christmas Stuff was going up right next to the displays of discounted Halloween candy. 

What's the rush people?

I remember back in the day, there was no Christmas stuff in stores or on TV till the Santa Clause Parade, which is usually around the same time as the US Thanksgiving. 

Why did things change?  Do we really NEED 2 months of Jingle Bells running through our brains?

People obviously don't need that much time to shop because the stores are still packed on the 23rd and 24th so obviously it hasn't stopped people from leaving everything to the last minute.

I think as a society we need to put our foot down.  Christmas should be for the month of December only.  No other holiday requires 2 month of prep time.  All it is, is a fantastic money grab from the retail sector and an attempt to increase sales.  What happened to the spirit of Christmas? 

Personally I think the spirit of Christmas got lost while being chased by zombies on Halloween.  Serves him right for sticking his ass into a season that doesn't belong to him.



See Also -  Retail: The Death of Christmas