Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Working from the outside in

I had a fabulous dinner party last night with some of my Latino (and Latino wanna-be) friends. If you have friends of Spanish decent, you understand why i am clutching my coffee with a death grip this morning.

I'm proud to say i kicked ass in the vegetarian Italian cooking realm and we had a lovely Salsa lesson. We also managed to finish off several bottles of wine and Cava, which may have contributed to the impossible task of arriving to work on time today.

Awakening, bleary eyed, to an apartment littered with champagne glasses and wine bottles this morning was simultaneously shameful and fabulous. Shameful because there really is no good reason to drink that much on a random Tuesday. Fabulous because i'm glad i don't feel too old to drink that much on a random Tuesday.

I dressed in my most professional gear today. My colleagues must think I have a job interview. I don't. But there is something about looking like a grown-up that balances out completely not acting like one.

Thanks for all the fun Simon, Colleen, and Gabriele! I appreciate you speaking English all night just for me.

I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t hate me.

In an effort to prepare myself for the upcoming Sex in the City movie, I've been watching re-runs of the foxy foursome religiously over the last few months. It is strangely ironic how closely this show can mimic the real-life relationships I have suffered. No wonder this show is so hugely popular!

I've tried the young boy who lives in a trashy apartment with video games and posters taped to the walls. I've dated the too-feminine straight man. For all I know, I've dated the too-feminine gay man. I had unfortunate run-ins with several boys with the Mommie complex. I've accidentally dated a religious person. I can't stop talking about my own Mr. Big. I've fallen off the sidewalk because someone tried to hold my hand. And, I've even had two actual boyfriends. The creator of this show has relationships of our current generation down to a tee.

I just finished the episode where Carrie gets dumped on a Post-It Note. Then she goes on a rant in a nightclub about how guys are cowardly and immature. Then she gets high and almost gets arrested. Then she eats ice-cream and laughs about it all. When said like this, it sounds rather boring and unbelievable. BUT, the truly unbelievable thing is that I've very nearly had that same night. In fact, so many of my girlfriends have. I think the point of this episode is to remind women that we can be prone to craziness and irrational anger. Here I have to stop to ask in a very Carrie Bradshaw sort-of way: It is really us?

Being broken up with on a Post-It is one of the least horrible abuses women are subjected to in our real-life relationship adventures. I feel that the occasional rant, however absolute the probability it falls on deaf ears, is our right. God forbid after being stood up, lied to, cheated on, ignored, used, taken for granted, disrespected, and, in a plethora of other ways, mistreated we dare get angry and raise our voices. Frankly, we should do it more often. In fact, women who don't speak up only make it more difficult for the rest of us. If I am a crazy bitch because I won't communicate solely via text message or I want you to keep your urine confined to the inside of the toilet or I expect kindness, equality, and respect before AND after sex, than so be it.

I'm just sooooo tired of always trying to remain calm and classy in a sea of classless jerks. I know that there must be some normal men out there, someone who rides my same wave. I guess I'm a little bit Charlotte in that way. But when my boss found the printout for my movie tickets for Friday's opening night of the big Sex in the City movie and asked me what character I was, I could only very sadly answer Miranda, the jaded, cynical one.

However, when I am alone and feel sad about how Miranda I've become, I can always count on Samantha to help cheer me up with fabulous words of wisdom:

If you're never someone's girlfriend, you can never be someone's ex-girlfriend.

Now i think i'll call up my girls and eat ice-cream and laugh about it all in the most unfunctional shoes i own. I feel better already.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Self Reflection

A strange and kinda funny thing just happened.

I was just accused by one of my exes of talking shit on my blog about him. I was confused, naturally, because it would be unlikely for me to write about someone who could actually read my blog. If i talk shit, i set it to my preferred list, of course. Most of my exes aren't on Myspace anyway thank goodness so i'm free to insult them privately as much as i please.

This is the funny part...i was on a rant about another boy...you know, that "One" that has tormented me incessantly for the last year. My own real life Mr. Big.

Turns out, the accusing ex, who i don't talk ill of on the blog (yet), can relate to my posts about other evil men in my life so perfectly that he thinks it is about him!

The sad and ironic thing is that, much to several people's shock, i've actually spoken very kindly of his gentle coaxing me from a scared and cranky hermit to one almost capable of love again...not to mention my numerous shout outs about his musical fabulocity.

Apparently, it isn't me who thinks he may act like an "ill-behaved loser in fancy clothes," but rather someone closer to home.

It is fascinating how when love goes away you can overlook the nice things and try your very hardest to find anger and blame. It is also interesting that when you don't know who that blog post was about, you start having a look at the crap way you treat people and start feeling a tad paranoid.