I just got home from getting my hair sewn in. Yes, I just said sewn in. My hair is about five inches longer than it was three hours ago. I'm not alone in this. I have a handful of my friends that also sit in a chair while someone literally takes a needle and thread and adds more hair to their head. It isn't cheap either, the hair costs between $500-$1000, and it costs over $100 to have it sewn in, which needs to be done every six weeks. Lucky for me, my hairstylist is a personnal friend (and by Saturday will be my new roomate!!) so I get hooked up.
But the truth is, us women- well at least us high maintenance ones- spend a crap load of money to look the way we do. Let's review what the average HCB (high class broad) spends on trying to get perfection.
I already mentioned the hair. I'll explain it a little more. Basically, your hair is parted in sections and your stylist braids two cornrows horizontally across your head and then sews in the row(s) of hair depending on how much thickness you need. But lets be honest, if you are someone that has extensions, you probably have your hair colored as well. Let's use me as an example. If I paid for all my services, I would be looking at around at least $200 a month.
Moving along, we can't have our nails looking like we're peasants working the fields. I do not have acrylic nails, but if you do, and you want a good job it's about $35 for a fill. You usually get them filled twice a month. I have short nails, but I get a manicure twice a week, and in between that I touch them up myself. 90% of the time I have red nail polish on, so long nails are not an option for me, unless I want to look like a stripper from Daytona. My manicure is $15, but why stop there? You might as well get a pedicure as well. That will set you back another $35. I get that done about twice a month as well. On a side note; I just had the WORST pedicure Saturday. I went with the BFF, and we both sat down at the same time, but she was getting hers done and I was sitting around with my feet in water waiting. While I was waiting one of the jet filters fell off and the lady that was doing BFF's servcie started to try and fix it. I guess she didn't want to try too hard, because she instead left it alone making a horrible sucking noise, and told me to keep my foot away from it. I of course am scared that I'm going to forget about it and let my foot wander over to the vortex and get it sucked in and chopped to pieces. Finally my lady came and fixed it, and started, as BFF was getting finished. SUCKED.
Our next subject is the hair we get removed. Yes, us HCBs are a little crazy. We pay money to have hair added certain places, and money to have hair removed other places. I only get my brows done, because fortunatly having my esthetician license helps in my self waxing. So I'm only looking at $20 every two weeks, but if we added in what I do at home myself we'd be in the hundreds of dollars catagory. A lot of girls do the whole brazilian thing, including myself. If you go to a salon it's about $65, and you usually want to go every six weeks. If you're wondering if it hurts, yes it does. Try doing it on yourself. I'll paint you a picture- me, a vicodin, and a bottle of Jameson is how I get through it. If you really want to get rid of unwanted hair, you could always go the laser hair removal way, which starts at about $150 a session, and it usually takes about five sessions to kill the hair. You do the math.
Exhibit D: our products. I'm talking makeup, hair, lotion and all the yummy smelling stuff in between. My product for my face is $35 a bottle, and I need three different things to complete the process. So that's about $100 every two months, maybe a little longer if I'm lucky. As for HCB's makeup selections? We're talking more Dior than drugstore on that matter. HCB's feel that if you're putting it on your face it better be high quality. We have at least 30 different MAC eye shadows...and not only do we own these shadows, we KNOW the names of all of them. If I was on the phone with another HCB and asked her what colors she was wearing she would tell me something along the lines of, "trax with mythology and rice paper." And being an HCB myself, I would know exactly what colors she was wearing. Impressed? I know...
We also always like to smell good. Not just good, but expensive. I'm talking Burberry, Chanel, Vera Wang, Gucci, Dior, Mark Jacobs...the list goes on. I have an HCB friend who came over after a trip to the mall and showed me her two perfumes she had purchased. She flipped her hair and told me, "I couldn't decide so I got them both."
Our hair products are crucial as well. We have more than one type of hairspray. We have products to make our hair staright. We have products to make our hair curly. We have products to make our hair stay up, and products to keep it down. We have pins and bands and brushes. And the combs! We have combs coming out of our ears. We ALWAYS have a rat comb with us. Our hair can be big our small, the possiblities are endless. We have shampoo and more than one type of conditioner. Again, thank the Lord for my license allowing me to buy products at the beauty supply store.
We tan, and we use special lotion for the tanning booth. I am personnaly thankful that most HCBs and myself usually take the winter off from tanning. I mean, lets be real, how high maintance can we get?!? Please don't answer that question, it was meant to be rhetorical. If we must be tan for an event in the colder months we usually opt for the spray tan, which lasts about a week. Another $40 please and thank you.
We accessorize. I think HCBs like accessorizing more than buying clothes. Some of us have our staple accessories, like me and my coke can hoop earings. (meaning my hoops are as big as a coke can is round) 9 chances out of 10 I am wearing them, But other than that we have rings and bracelets and scarves and pins and shoes...oh the SHOES!!! I probably own five pairs of black pumps, but I will always buy another pair. It's like I can never have too many. Plus all of my other shoes. Some girls have babies, I have shoes.
I'm guilty as charged with being an HCB. With the hair, the products, the nails, tanning, the yummy colorful stuff and the accessories we're looking at a lot of money. All to look my best. So why is it that I feel the best when I'm plain faced and hair in a ponytail smelling like soap and wearing my ugg boots?
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
My Movie Adventure
I checked off something I've been meaning to do on my list of things to do- I went to the movies by myself.
I'm sure half of you think this is sad and pathetic, and the other half of you are rolling your eyes wondering why I even had this on a list of things to do.
Well, I have been saying for the last year that I wanted to go see a movie by myself. It seemed silly that I had to have someone to go with. It's a movie, it's not like you need someone sitting next to you to either enjoy it or think it sucked. For this reason I don't understand why people go to the movies on a first date, it seems so unproductive. Aren't you supposed to try and get to know someone on a first date? If you take them to the movies then you are probably getting more intimite with your popcorn and candy than you are with your date.
Since I do not have a better half I usually go to the movies with a friend, but scheduling conflicts sometimes make it hard to actually go see the movie, so most of the time I wait until the movie is on Netflix and don't even try to attempt the theater.
Yesterday was different. I had a long day and by the time I got home around 3:30 I went straight to bed, only to wake up around 9pm. Everyone I knew was in the city, I was all by myself. The boat had sailed for me to do anything, I would have to put on my face and do my hair, which I hadn't even brushed yet. No, I didn't want to spend two hours to go out. Plus I was still feeling tired and getting over being sick. So I went to my handy dandy fandango app on my Iphone to see what movies were playing. I had seen previews for the movie The Box, and the last show was playing in fifteen minutes. I got in my car, unbrushed hair and in yoga pants and drove to the theater. I bought my ticket, got a good seat and waited for the movie to start. By the time the previews were rolling I thought to myself, "I can't believe I'm here by myself! What if people think I'm a loser for being here all alone, they probably are all thinking, 'that poor girl, can't even get someone to take her out on a Saturday night' Who cares what they think? I don't. They can think I'm pathetic all they want. Maybe someone will feel so bad for me they'll buy me some popcorn. Mmmm, popcorn sounds good, but I don't want to miss the previews..."
Once the movie began I stopped worrying so much. And to give my fellow movie viewers credit, none of them must have thought me too pathetic, because I did not get any popcorn from any of them. Note to reader; if you ever see a girl in the movie theater by herself around 5'5 with brown unbrushed hair she would not be offended by you offering her some pity popcorn. In fact, make it with extra butter.
*****SPOILER ALERT!!!! I AM ABOUT TO TELL THE ENTIRE PLOT TO THE MOVIE I SAW, SO IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON SEEING THIS MOVIE PLEASE STOP READING NOW! DON'T WORRY, I'LL WAIT.....*****
The movie itself was pretty good. It was about a family in 1976 that has a mysterious package delivered to them one morning. It is a button. A man with half his face burned off comes later in the day to explain to the wife that if they decide to push the button that they would receive 1 million dollars, and someone that they do not know will die. Long story short, she pushes the button, and then all this weird stuff happens that I still don't really understand. Then the couples son is kidnapped by the same man with his face burned off. He then tells the couple that their son is now blind and deaf. They have two options at this point, they can keep their million dollars and live the rest of their lives with their deaf/blind son and try to make the best of it. Or, the husband can shoot his wife, and the minute she dies the son will then get his sight or hearing back. At this same time another husband and wife are shown with the box with the button on it, trying to decide if they want to push it. The wife tells the husband to shoot her, which after they profess their love to one another he does, just as the new couple push the button. The son is back to normal, and the husband is taken away to some unknown place. It was sort of unclear on a lot of things. I liked it, but still don't really understand who made the box and why are they sending it to all these families. What is the end result supposed to be? It's after seeing films like this that I use my usual, "it's just a movie" answer.
I did start thinking about what I would do if some half-faced man came to my house to offer me a million dollars if I push a button and someone dies. I have been asking this question since I knew the concept of the movie and have been discussing it with people. I said I would not push the button, I had some people ask if they could push the button more than once for more money, and I was suprised that the end answer was sort of split down the middle. Some did not care that someone would die, and some- like me- felt that they could not feel responsible for another person's death, no matter what the outcome may be.
But what if pushing the button didn't involve death? What if you pushed the button and you would never gain another pound again, no matter how much food you ate, but in exchange you could only wear polyester blend fabric? What if you never aged if you pushed the button, but you smelled funny the rest of your life? What if you pushed the button and you got a gazillion dollars, and could buy whatever you wanted, do whatever you wanted but still had to go to a soup kitchen to eat all your meals. What would you do?
It would be like me being able to push a button that made the rest of our country's presidents republicans, and the Red Sox would always win the World Series. Yes, that sounds awesome, but who really wants a guarantee on anything in life? That's where it gets fun, not really knowing what might happen. So no, if a man with half his face burned off by lightning came to my house with a box with a button I would not push it. No matter what his offer consisted of...because having to wear polyester for the rest of my life is a scary thought to me.
I'm sure half of you think this is sad and pathetic, and the other half of you are rolling your eyes wondering why I even had this on a list of things to do.
Well, I have been saying for the last year that I wanted to go see a movie by myself. It seemed silly that I had to have someone to go with. It's a movie, it's not like you need someone sitting next to you to either enjoy it or think it sucked. For this reason I don't understand why people go to the movies on a first date, it seems so unproductive. Aren't you supposed to try and get to know someone on a first date? If you take them to the movies then you are probably getting more intimite with your popcorn and candy than you are with your date.
Since I do not have a better half I usually go to the movies with a friend, but scheduling conflicts sometimes make it hard to actually go see the movie, so most of the time I wait until the movie is on Netflix and don't even try to attempt the theater.
Yesterday was different. I had a long day and by the time I got home around 3:30 I went straight to bed, only to wake up around 9pm. Everyone I knew was in the city, I was all by myself. The boat had sailed for me to do anything, I would have to put on my face and do my hair, which I hadn't even brushed yet. No, I didn't want to spend two hours to go out. Plus I was still feeling tired and getting over being sick. So I went to my handy dandy fandango app on my Iphone to see what movies were playing. I had seen previews for the movie The Box, and the last show was playing in fifteen minutes. I got in my car, unbrushed hair and in yoga pants and drove to the theater. I bought my ticket, got a good seat and waited for the movie to start. By the time the previews were rolling I thought to myself, "I can't believe I'm here by myself! What if people think I'm a loser for being here all alone, they probably are all thinking, 'that poor girl, can't even get someone to take her out on a Saturday night' Who cares what they think? I don't. They can think I'm pathetic all they want. Maybe someone will feel so bad for me they'll buy me some popcorn. Mmmm, popcorn sounds good, but I don't want to miss the previews..."
Once the movie began I stopped worrying so much. And to give my fellow movie viewers credit, none of them must have thought me too pathetic, because I did not get any popcorn from any of them. Note to reader; if you ever see a girl in the movie theater by herself around 5'5 with brown unbrushed hair she would not be offended by you offering her some pity popcorn. In fact, make it with extra butter.
*****SPOILER ALERT!!!! I AM ABOUT TO TELL THE ENTIRE PLOT TO THE MOVIE I SAW, SO IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON SEEING THIS MOVIE PLEASE STOP READING NOW! DON'T WORRY, I'LL WAIT.....*****
The movie itself was pretty good. It was about a family in 1976 that has a mysterious package delivered to them one morning. It is a button. A man with half his face burned off comes later in the day to explain to the wife that if they decide to push the button that they would receive 1 million dollars, and someone that they do not know will die. Long story short, she pushes the button, and then all this weird stuff happens that I still don't really understand. Then the couples son is kidnapped by the same man with his face burned off. He then tells the couple that their son is now blind and deaf. They have two options at this point, they can keep their million dollars and live the rest of their lives with their deaf/blind son and try to make the best of it. Or, the husband can shoot his wife, and the minute she dies the son will then get his sight or hearing back. At this same time another husband and wife are shown with the box with the button on it, trying to decide if they want to push it. The wife tells the husband to shoot her, which after they profess their love to one another he does, just as the new couple push the button. The son is back to normal, and the husband is taken away to some unknown place. It was sort of unclear on a lot of things. I liked it, but still don't really understand who made the box and why are they sending it to all these families. What is the end result supposed to be? It's after seeing films like this that I use my usual, "it's just a movie" answer.
I did start thinking about what I would do if some half-faced man came to my house to offer me a million dollars if I push a button and someone dies. I have been asking this question since I knew the concept of the movie and have been discussing it with people. I said I would not push the button, I had some people ask if they could push the button more than once for more money, and I was suprised that the end answer was sort of split down the middle. Some did not care that someone would die, and some- like me- felt that they could not feel responsible for another person's death, no matter what the outcome may be.
But what if pushing the button didn't involve death? What if you pushed the button and you would never gain another pound again, no matter how much food you ate, but in exchange you could only wear polyester blend fabric? What if you never aged if you pushed the button, but you smelled funny the rest of your life? What if you pushed the button and you got a gazillion dollars, and could buy whatever you wanted, do whatever you wanted but still had to go to a soup kitchen to eat all your meals. What would you do?
It would be like me being able to push a button that made the rest of our country's presidents republicans, and the Red Sox would always win the World Series. Yes, that sounds awesome, but who really wants a guarantee on anything in life? That's where it gets fun, not really knowing what might happen. So no, if a man with half his face burned off by lightning came to my house with a box with a button I would not push it. No matter what his offer consisted of...because having to wear polyester for the rest of my life is a scary thought to me.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
My fourth quarter
Maybe it's the vicodin, but I am in such a good mood I can't help it. The part that makes me want to simultaneously pull my hair out and scream for joy at the same time is that I have had such a crappy year.
It's true, the weight I wanted to lose that I didn't, the money I wanted to make that still hasn't made it to my bank account, getting my heart broken, these are not things that most would measure a successful year by. I sure as hell was chopping this one up to a failure.
Then, I was at work today, and this guy I was working with said his birthday was tomorrow. He mentioned how he was going to be turning 24 which made me comment how I rememebered 24 being a good year for me. Then we got into the I'm old/you're NOT old arguement. He asked me when my birthday was and I told him in about 3 months. Then he laughed and said I have a whole quarter left. I laughed and made a comment about how much worse could it get this year and that I couldn't wait for next year, that 26 had not been my best year. He responded with the best answer I've ever heard.
"Well, maybe your fourth quarter will be your best quarter of the year."
I didn't really think about it much when he said it, but after I left work I couldn't stop thinking about his comment. Maybe my fourth quarter is going to be the best of this year. I mean why wouldn't it be? Yes, it could be worse than the rest of my year, but when I think of what my "horrible year" consisted of I'm slightly embarrassed. People have it way worse out there than I do. I am blessed to have a fantastic family, to have beautiful friends, and so many experiences and memories.
I am aware that my life is in a transition at the moment, and that it's a little scary- and I don't know what is going to happen- but I can't help but feel excited to find out what the future holds for me. As of this moment the world is my oyster. I can stay here, I could move to Seattle (since apparently I experienced a miracle with that lady telling me the Holy Ghost was prompting me to move there) I could find a great guy, or I could get a million cats, either way I am still going to be me, and I'm pretty pleased with who I am. My cukkoo psychic lady told me that I have a few more years to play before I settle down, and I've decided that I'm going to enjoy them before I have the whole ball and chain thing. I don't want to make the impression that I am jealous or looking down on people in committed relationships, because that is simply not true. I am always happy for my friends when they find love, shit I love matchmaking anyone. So it's not that I'm looking down on being in a relationship, it's just that once you find "The One" you give up on that chase. You never have another first date, another first kiss, another "first" anything. And while- if this person is truely "The One"- you are too busy making new memories and sharing your lives together to notice that you are never going to have that "first" thrill again, I think it is important to also enjoy your mistakes that you make before you get it right.
So for now I'm over it. It's just a few pounds, it's just money, it's just a job, he's just a boy...that's all it is. Here's to my fourth quarter being a success...
It's true, the weight I wanted to lose that I didn't, the money I wanted to make that still hasn't made it to my bank account, getting my heart broken, these are not things that most would measure a successful year by. I sure as hell was chopping this one up to a failure.
Then, I was at work today, and this guy I was working with said his birthday was tomorrow. He mentioned how he was going to be turning 24 which made me comment how I rememebered 24 being a good year for me. Then we got into the I'm old/you're NOT old arguement. He asked me when my birthday was and I told him in about 3 months. Then he laughed and said I have a whole quarter left. I laughed and made a comment about how much worse could it get this year and that I couldn't wait for next year, that 26 had not been my best year. He responded with the best answer I've ever heard.
"Well, maybe your fourth quarter will be your best quarter of the year."
I didn't really think about it much when he said it, but after I left work I couldn't stop thinking about his comment. Maybe my fourth quarter is going to be the best of this year. I mean why wouldn't it be? Yes, it could be worse than the rest of my year, but when I think of what my "horrible year" consisted of I'm slightly embarrassed. People have it way worse out there than I do. I am blessed to have a fantastic family, to have beautiful friends, and so many experiences and memories.
I am aware that my life is in a transition at the moment, and that it's a little scary- and I don't know what is going to happen- but I can't help but feel excited to find out what the future holds for me. As of this moment the world is my oyster. I can stay here, I could move to Seattle (since apparently I experienced a miracle with that lady telling me the Holy Ghost was prompting me to move there) I could find a great guy, or I could get a million cats, either way I am still going to be me, and I'm pretty pleased with who I am. My cukkoo psychic lady told me that I have a few more years to play before I settle down, and I've decided that I'm going to enjoy them before I have the whole ball and chain thing. I don't want to make the impression that I am jealous or looking down on people in committed relationships, because that is simply not true. I am always happy for my friends when they find love, shit I love matchmaking anyone. So it's not that I'm looking down on being in a relationship, it's just that once you find "The One" you give up on that chase. You never have another first date, another first kiss, another "first" anything. And while- if this person is truely "The One"- you are too busy making new memories and sharing your lives together to notice that you are never going to have that "first" thrill again, I think it is important to also enjoy your mistakes that you make before you get it right.
So for now I'm over it. It's just a few pounds, it's just money, it's just a job, he's just a boy...that's all it is. Here's to my fourth quarter being a success...
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Diary of a Sick Woman
Yesterday I woke up at 2am with a sore throat and my entire body aching. It was like I had ran a marathon but someone forgot to tell me, and the only way I knew was by the excruciating pain in all of my muscles. I got out of bed and took a look at my throat. Way back behind my uvula was my tonsils, all red and swollen with little white puss thingys on them. Great. I went to the kitchen and made some tea, and watched two episodes of South Park. Side note: if you haven't seen the episode when Butters becomes a kissing pimp, please check it out. You know what I am saying?
When I woke up the next morning I could barely move and my throat was worse than before. I called the doctor to make an appointment. All I could think of was that I had gotten H1N1. I had been so insistant on not getting a flu shot that God was punishing me by not only giving me the flu, but the SWINE flu at that.
I got to Kaiser early and the lady that checks you in told me I needed to wear a mask. Side note #2: the lady at the reception desk for my doctor is a B-I-T-C-H. She's one of those ladies who I would bet money was a groupie for Gun's n Roses back in the day. She's never been one of my favorite people. When she told me I needed to wear a mask I looked around the reception room. There were around 10 people and none of them were wearing a mask.
"Why do I have to wear a mask if no one else is?" I casually asked.
"Because they aren't sick" she answered with a smirk.
I glared at her as I grabbed a mask, but I refused to actually put it on. I highly doubt that all those people in the waiting room were as healthy as a horse. If they didn't want to get sick, then they could put a mask on for all I cared.
The nurse called me back pretty quick, I don't know if the front desk lady stopped daydreaming about Axel Rose before botox long enough to notice my maskless face and nark on me, but all I know is that I wasn't in that waiting room long.
By the grace of God the nurse did not weigh me. That was the last thing I needed to see right now. I'm already fighting a slight depression as it is, no need to add to it by showing me that I haven't lost any weight.
So now I'm in the exam room. I have ten minutes until my actual appointment time. My doctor is on maternity leave, so I am seeing someone I have never met. 10 minutes go by, no doctor. 10 more minutes, still no doctor. Finally, 30 minutes after my scheduled appointment time has come and gone I open the door to see what the deal is. I ask the first nurse I see if maybe, the doctor forgot about me. The nurse looked at me like I had a third eye and said, "No one has forgotten you, the doctor just had an emergency patient is all."
Oh...an emergancy patient. Isn't there a place where people go in case of an emergency and they don't have a scheduled visit with their regular doctor? What's that place called? That's right, the EMERGENCY ROOM, which lucky for this Kasier just finished being built this last year and was up and running as I was standing in that exam room. Jesus, I was irritated at this point.
So I finally see the doctor. She was very nice. She said it seemed as if I had strep throat, that no I did not have H1N1. She stuck that huge q-tip thing down my throat, made me take it to the lab and told me to call back to see if I indeed had strep throat. When the test came back positive I went to the pharmacy to pick up my antibiotics. The girl at the pharmacy took my information and then looked me in the eye and said, "What is it we're giving you today?"
You've got to be kidding me! I felt like saying, "Yes, I'll be picking up cocaine today." What the hell? Instead I looked her in the eye and said, "I don't know, what does it say on your screen right there?"
I got my amoxicillin and went to my mom's house, where she took care of me. The vicodin I made the doctor give me helped too. I felt better when I got home, and fell asleep at 6:30 in the evening while watching season 1 of Charles in Charge from Netflix.
The next day I got up, had no voice still, but got ready for work anyway. The minute I got there they sent me home. Apparently no one likes to work with a girl with strep throat. Hmmmm. I came home, got into bed and watched movies all day. Around 4pm Batman called me to see how I was doing. I whispered I was fine, and he told me that he felt bad and would go pick up stuff to make me feel better, but he lived too far. Coming from him, that was very thoughtful. Trust me.
I feel like I haven't seen the real world in months, and it's only been two days...aaaaahhhhhh, I'm starting to get cabin fever. Plus, I'm hungry. All I've had in two days is soup and tea. I want something yummy.
I miss my voice, I didn't know how much I liked it until it went away. I promise when it comes back I will respect it more, I will only use it to say nice things, and I won't talk about liberals in such a mean way anymore. Well, at least for a little while I won't. I should look at the bright side, at least I don't have the swine flu, right?
When I woke up the next morning I could barely move and my throat was worse than before. I called the doctor to make an appointment. All I could think of was that I had gotten H1N1. I had been so insistant on not getting a flu shot that God was punishing me by not only giving me the flu, but the SWINE flu at that.
I got to Kaiser early and the lady that checks you in told me I needed to wear a mask. Side note #2: the lady at the reception desk for my doctor is a B-I-T-C-H. She's one of those ladies who I would bet money was a groupie for Gun's n Roses back in the day. She's never been one of my favorite people. When she told me I needed to wear a mask I looked around the reception room. There were around 10 people and none of them were wearing a mask.
"Why do I have to wear a mask if no one else is?" I casually asked.
"Because they aren't sick" she answered with a smirk.
I glared at her as I grabbed a mask, but I refused to actually put it on. I highly doubt that all those people in the waiting room were as healthy as a horse. If they didn't want to get sick, then they could put a mask on for all I cared.
The nurse called me back pretty quick, I don't know if the front desk lady stopped daydreaming about Axel Rose before botox long enough to notice my maskless face and nark on me, but all I know is that I wasn't in that waiting room long.
By the grace of God the nurse did not weigh me. That was the last thing I needed to see right now. I'm already fighting a slight depression as it is, no need to add to it by showing me that I haven't lost any weight.
So now I'm in the exam room. I have ten minutes until my actual appointment time. My doctor is on maternity leave, so I am seeing someone I have never met. 10 minutes go by, no doctor. 10 more minutes, still no doctor. Finally, 30 minutes after my scheduled appointment time has come and gone I open the door to see what the deal is. I ask the first nurse I see if maybe, the doctor forgot about me. The nurse looked at me like I had a third eye and said, "No one has forgotten you, the doctor just had an emergency patient is all."
Oh...an emergancy patient. Isn't there a place where people go in case of an emergency and they don't have a scheduled visit with their regular doctor? What's that place called? That's right, the EMERGENCY ROOM, which lucky for this Kasier just finished being built this last year and was up and running as I was standing in that exam room. Jesus, I was irritated at this point.
So I finally see the doctor. She was very nice. She said it seemed as if I had strep throat, that no I did not have H1N1. She stuck that huge q-tip thing down my throat, made me take it to the lab and told me to call back to see if I indeed had strep throat. When the test came back positive I went to the pharmacy to pick up my antibiotics. The girl at the pharmacy took my information and then looked me in the eye and said, "What is it we're giving you today?"
You've got to be kidding me! I felt like saying, "Yes, I'll be picking up cocaine today." What the hell? Instead I looked her in the eye and said, "I don't know, what does it say on your screen right there?"
I got my amoxicillin and went to my mom's house, where she took care of me. The vicodin I made the doctor give me helped too. I felt better when I got home, and fell asleep at 6:30 in the evening while watching season 1 of Charles in Charge from Netflix.
The next day I got up, had no voice still, but got ready for work anyway. The minute I got there they sent me home. Apparently no one likes to work with a girl with strep throat. Hmmmm. I came home, got into bed and watched movies all day. Around 4pm Batman called me to see how I was doing. I whispered I was fine, and he told me that he felt bad and would go pick up stuff to make me feel better, but he lived too far. Coming from him, that was very thoughtful. Trust me.
I feel like I haven't seen the real world in months, and it's only been two days...aaaaahhhhhh, I'm starting to get cabin fever. Plus, I'm hungry. All I've had in two days is soup and tea. I want something yummy.
I miss my voice, I didn't know how much I liked it until it went away. I promise when it comes back I will respect it more, I will only use it to say nice things, and I won't talk about liberals in such a mean way anymore. Well, at least for a little while I won't. I should look at the bright side, at least I don't have the swine flu, right?
Monday, November 2, 2009
Is Harry right?
Every night, before I get into bed I pop in When Harry Met Sally, and that my friends is how I fall asleep. I have done this for six years now. It's my nightly routine. I pretty much have that movie memorized somewhere in my subconscious, since I always fall asleep around the time they met again at the airport.
For those of you unfamiliar with the story of the movie, it is mostly built around the question of whether or not men and women can be friends. The two meet when they are both leaving the University of Chicago for New York City. Sally is friends wirth the girl Harry is dating so they share the drive out there. Harry tells Sally on that ride that they cannot be friends...
Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I'm saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally: What if they don't want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.
Sally: That's too bad. You were the only person that I knew in New York.
The rest of the movie deals with their relationship and friendship. It's a really good movie, it's in my top 5, so if you haven't seen it I suggest you put it on your Netflix list.
The reason I bring this up, is because I want to know if Harry is correct in his idea that men and women cannot be friends, does the sex always get in the way? And if he is right, then do all men really think about sex that much?
I would like to argue that Harry is incorrect, that men and women can be friends. That we've evolved into a better society and that I am not living in the same world that my grandmother did when men called her by "Honey" or "Darling" more than they did her first name. I would like to think that men think about more than getting in a girls pants.
But then I have to take a look at my own life and experiences and that makes me think that Harry might be onto something. Take me and Batman. We are friends. We talk to each other about stuff. We hang out, but are we really friends? Because I know for a fact that he wants in my pants, even if it is just for the fact that he can't, not because he actually wants to. And everyone knows that I like him, but am smart enough to know that I shouldn't and that he would never be what I need. So are we friends, or are we just faux friends?
I had a guy friend for a while that made me think that Harry was wrong. We were really close, we talked about everything, but it was totally platonic. No feelings on either end, just purely friendship. I would compare the feelings I had for him to something I would think a sister would feel for her brother. I don't have a brother so I can't say for sure, but I'm willing to bet money it's around the same thing. We aren't friends anymore though, but I can assure you the reasons we are not has nothing to do with sex.
Another thing about men and women and the whole subject is the hug/kiss on the cheek greeting. Mr. Perfect said that it was inappropriate for me to hug my guy friends and kiss them on the cheek when I said hello or goodbye. I thought he was being immature, and dumb. I asked him what he felt was an acceptable way of saying hello, he told me a handshake. A fucking handshake! Are you kidding me? Who are you meeting, the president? Give me a break. I highly doubt that the guys I hug or kiss on the cheek are getting off on it. Most of them are married anyway, or have long term girlfriends, so I didn't see the problem. Maybe Mr. Perfect thinks like Harry, and doesn't want to give anyone the wrong idea. I don't know. I can understand if I'm slipping people the tongue here, but we're talking about a peck. I don't think that I need to add that on to the list of why I'm going to Hell. There are pleanty of other issues on it that take presidence over cheek pecking.
While I'm on the subject of love and friendship I want to know how people break up and stay friends with each other. I don't believe in that. Maybe it's the competitve bitch in me, but I don't want to stay in touch after things go sour. "Oh yeah, I thought I might maybe marry you one day, but now that we've established that you'd rather eat broken glass than spend the rest of your life with me can we still keep in touch? Can you be sure to update me on how you're doing so much better without me, and make sure to send me pictures of your next girlfriend, so I can compare myself to her until I drive myself to eating an entire package of oreo's" I don't think so. Even if I'm the one that did the rejecting I don't want to be friends, because the minute you move on and get a new girl I want you. It's sick, I know. But I can't help it. Are all women like this, or just crazy me? I know that most would like to claim that they are not as petty, but I am willing to bet money that deep down in their hearts they are just like me. I just have the balls to admit it out loud.
I have an ex that took me forever to get over. A couple years ago I was at the mall with the BFF. We were shopping for a bra for me for my birthday party. I wanted a specific color and type, so we went to Macy's and Victoria Secrets and even Fredricks. We were in Macy's when I decided I was going to go with the one in Victoria Secrets. BFF was now in the middle of her own shopping so I told her I would run down there get the bra and meet her back in Macys. As I'm standing in line I start to focus on who is in front of me in this line. From the back the guy looked exactly like my ex, the way he was dressed, his height, the way he was standing, everything. He had a stroller with him, and my ex had just had a baby with some girl. This guy also was with some girl, I'm assuming the mother of the baby in the stroller. For an entire year I said, "I'm so over him, if I ran into him I would just act like I don't even know him. It would be no big deal!" That all went out the window the minute I thought he was standing in front of me in that line. Lucky for me the guy turned around and it was not my ex, but for about 15 seconds I had a mini panic attack and almost threw that bra on the ground and walked straight out of the store. Yeah, that's me being "so over him." Pathetic, huh?
I can say now that I am over him, but only because I am not over someone else. It makes me sad to think that the only way I can get over a man is with another man. I might need to take a women's empowerment camp, but then my mom might think I'm turning into a lesbian, so I maybe I should put that idea on the back burner for now. No need to crush any hope that she has about becoming a grandmother eventually. Not that I'm ready to have kids now, but will I ever be 100% ready? By the time I am my ovaries will be as dried up as a raisin and I'll have to pay some 21 year old thousands of dollars to carry my child. All so I can have a noisey, messy, annoying little bundle of joy. And then if I have a boy I'll have to worry about whether he's thinking about getting into all of his friend's pants that are girls when he is older, because men and women cannot be friends, since the sex always gets in the way...
For those of you unfamiliar with the story of the movie, it is mostly built around the question of whether or not men and women can be friends. The two meet when they are both leaving the University of Chicago for New York City. Sally is friends wirth the girl Harry is dating so they share the drive out there. Harry tells Sally on that ride that they cannot be friends...
Harry: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally: Why not?
Harry: What I'm saying is — and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form — is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: No you don't.
Sally: Yes I do.
Harry: You only think you do.
Sally: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry: No, what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: They do not.
Harry: Do too.
Sally: How do you know?
Harry: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally: So you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry: No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally: What if they don't want to have sex with you?
Harry: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry: Guess not.
Sally: That's too bad. You were the only person that I knew in New York.
The rest of the movie deals with their relationship and friendship. It's a really good movie, it's in my top 5, so if you haven't seen it I suggest you put it on your Netflix list.
The reason I bring this up, is because I want to know if Harry is correct in his idea that men and women cannot be friends, does the sex always get in the way? And if he is right, then do all men really think about sex that much?
I would like to argue that Harry is incorrect, that men and women can be friends. That we've evolved into a better society and that I am not living in the same world that my grandmother did when men called her by "Honey" or "Darling" more than they did her first name. I would like to think that men think about more than getting in a girls pants.
But then I have to take a look at my own life and experiences and that makes me think that Harry might be onto something. Take me and Batman. We are friends. We talk to each other about stuff. We hang out, but are we really friends? Because I know for a fact that he wants in my pants, even if it is just for the fact that he can't, not because he actually wants to. And everyone knows that I like him, but am smart enough to know that I shouldn't and that he would never be what I need. So are we friends, or are we just faux friends?
I had a guy friend for a while that made me think that Harry was wrong. We were really close, we talked about everything, but it was totally platonic. No feelings on either end, just purely friendship. I would compare the feelings I had for him to something I would think a sister would feel for her brother. I don't have a brother so I can't say for sure, but I'm willing to bet money it's around the same thing. We aren't friends anymore though, but I can assure you the reasons we are not has nothing to do with sex.
Another thing about men and women and the whole subject is the hug/kiss on the cheek greeting. Mr. Perfect said that it was inappropriate for me to hug my guy friends and kiss them on the cheek when I said hello or goodbye. I thought he was being immature, and dumb. I asked him what he felt was an acceptable way of saying hello, he told me a handshake. A fucking handshake! Are you kidding me? Who are you meeting, the president? Give me a break. I highly doubt that the guys I hug or kiss on the cheek are getting off on it. Most of them are married anyway, or have long term girlfriends, so I didn't see the problem. Maybe Mr. Perfect thinks like Harry, and doesn't want to give anyone the wrong idea. I don't know. I can understand if I'm slipping people the tongue here, but we're talking about a peck. I don't think that I need to add that on to the list of why I'm going to Hell. There are pleanty of other issues on it that take presidence over cheek pecking.
While I'm on the subject of love and friendship I want to know how people break up and stay friends with each other. I don't believe in that. Maybe it's the competitve bitch in me, but I don't want to stay in touch after things go sour. "Oh yeah, I thought I might maybe marry you one day, but now that we've established that you'd rather eat broken glass than spend the rest of your life with me can we still keep in touch? Can you be sure to update me on how you're doing so much better without me, and make sure to send me pictures of your next girlfriend, so I can compare myself to her until I drive myself to eating an entire package of oreo's" I don't think so. Even if I'm the one that did the rejecting I don't want to be friends, because the minute you move on and get a new girl I want you. It's sick, I know. But I can't help it. Are all women like this, or just crazy me? I know that most would like to claim that they are not as petty, but I am willing to bet money that deep down in their hearts they are just like me. I just have the balls to admit it out loud.
I have an ex that took me forever to get over. A couple years ago I was at the mall with the BFF. We were shopping for a bra for me for my birthday party. I wanted a specific color and type, so we went to Macy's and Victoria Secrets and even Fredricks. We were in Macy's when I decided I was going to go with the one in Victoria Secrets. BFF was now in the middle of her own shopping so I told her I would run down there get the bra and meet her back in Macys. As I'm standing in line I start to focus on who is in front of me in this line. From the back the guy looked exactly like my ex, the way he was dressed, his height, the way he was standing, everything. He had a stroller with him, and my ex had just had a baby with some girl. This guy also was with some girl, I'm assuming the mother of the baby in the stroller. For an entire year I said, "I'm so over him, if I ran into him I would just act like I don't even know him. It would be no big deal!" That all went out the window the minute I thought he was standing in front of me in that line. Lucky for me the guy turned around and it was not my ex, but for about 15 seconds I had a mini panic attack and almost threw that bra on the ground and walked straight out of the store. Yeah, that's me being "so over him." Pathetic, huh?
I can say now that I am over him, but only because I am not over someone else. It makes me sad to think that the only way I can get over a man is with another man. I might need to take a women's empowerment camp, but then my mom might think I'm turning into a lesbian, so I maybe I should put that idea on the back burner for now. No need to crush any hope that she has about becoming a grandmother eventually. Not that I'm ready to have kids now, but will I ever be 100% ready? By the time I am my ovaries will be as dried up as a raisin and I'll have to pay some 21 year old thousands of dollars to carry my child. All so I can have a noisey, messy, annoying little bundle of joy. And then if I have a boy I'll have to worry about whether he's thinking about getting into all of his friend's pants that are girls when he is older, because men and women cannot be friends, since the sex always gets in the way...
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