Yesterday someone I talk to on a fairly regular basis told me that I'm "too negative". The person who told me this has always struck me as one of the biggest perpetrators of what I like to call "unrealistic self-image". He thinks he's upbeat and funny. He also thinks he's shy and doesn't talk a lot. I haven't known him very long but of all of the aforementioned characteristics, he only actually has one going for him... he can at times be funny. But it's not usually when he's trying to be -- usually it's when he's not aware of himself and accidentally says something that is so cute I can't help but giggle.
Anyway, I would never have guessed that I could ever been seen as an overly negative person. But it got me thinking. What if I am suffering from "unrealistic self-image", too? What if I think I am fun and funny (which I do... I crack myself up) but really I am Debbie Downer?
What provoked this person to tell me that I'm "negative" was when he said that the hotel I'm staying at with my friends in Vegas next week "should be fun" and I said, "No, not really but we can always go out to the other casinos nearby." Apparently, that was the straw that broke the camel's back and he just had to tell me how negative I "always" am. (By the way, huge pet peeve of mine -- when people say "never" and "always" to describe your characteristics as they are telling you how much you suck. No one in this world is "always" and "never" anything. Whenver someone pulls that shit with me, I'm tempted to turn into their mother -- "That's not accurate. Now use your words. What are you really trying to say to me?")
Anyway, it really bothered me. Made me kind of sad today, actually. I wish I didn't care what people in my life think about me. But anyone who is in my life is no doubt someone I care about (otherwise I wouldn't let them hang around) so of course what they think about me affects me. And this person in particular is someone I've listened to bitch and complain about his life since I met him so it was particularly hard to hear it from him. I've been the one to talk him down from a ledge a few times. How negative can I be?
So, in summation, if I've been a Negative Nancy in your presence, I hope you'll forgive me. But the Tropicana still kinda sucks.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
To all street performers
This is a public service announcement to all street performers.
If you don't actually know how to sing or play a musical instrument please do not attempt to do so in small contained areas such as subway platforms and subway cars. Learn to fucking tap dance.
Thank you.
If you don't actually know how to sing or play a musical instrument please do not attempt to do so in small contained areas such as subway platforms and subway cars. Learn to fucking tap dance.
Thank you.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Eight funny things
Yes, I like lists. Yes, you will pretend to like them, too. Well, long enough to read this one anyway.
"8 funny things I've seen this week", by Louise O'Brien
1) A guy with the word "mom" tattooed on his arm in flowery script. And he wasn't a cartoon or transported from the 1940s.
2) This hilariously tongue-in-cheek billboard on the West Side Highway, sponsored by Manhattan Mini Storage of all companies. When interviewed by NY1 every single male chosen to be confronted on camera sounded retarded and slightly priggish, except for the one man who said that Roe v. Wade is not being threatened. He just sounded like a tool. Read a newspaper, wouldya buddy?
3) Justin Timberlake earnestly playing "Dick in a Box" on the piano as an encore at his Jersey show. "One, cut a hole in a box. Two, put your junk in that box. Three, make her open that box." Fucking priceless.
4) Sitting in the front row (thanks Tamar!) at Justin's NYC show with Emily and watching her stand up every time he came to our side of the stage because she "didn't want him to be offended that she wasn't standing up for him." He tooooootally noticed, too, Em. Good call.
5) Getting a text message from Katie telling me that Emily and I are dead to her because we were at the aforementioned Justin show and she wasn't.
6) My co-worker, Amy, doing an impression of a guy she went on a blind date with dancing badly at a U2 concert a few years ago.
7) Me smiling at the baby being held by the people walking up the stairs ahead of me at the Bryant Park station and not noticing that my shoe came off until I tripped on it and nearly cracked my head open.
8) That same evening, walking DOWN the stairs at the Lowery and tripping over my own stupid skirt. Peasant skirt, heels, reading a book while walking -- deadly combination.
"8 funny things I've seen this week", by Louise O'Brien
1) A guy with the word "mom" tattooed on his arm in flowery script. And he wasn't a cartoon or transported from the 1940s.
2) This hilariously tongue-in-cheek billboard on the West Side Highway, sponsored by Manhattan Mini Storage of all companies. When interviewed by NY1 every single male chosen to be confronted on camera sounded retarded and slightly priggish, except for the one man who said that Roe v. Wade is not being threatened. He just sounded like a tool. Read a newspaper, wouldya buddy?
3) Justin Timberlake earnestly playing "Dick in a Box" on the piano as an encore at his Jersey show. "One, cut a hole in a box. Two, put your junk in that box. Three, make her open that box." Fucking priceless.
4) Sitting in the front row (thanks Tamar!) at Justin's NYC show with Emily and watching her stand up every time he came to our side of the stage because she "didn't want him to be offended that she wasn't standing up for him." He tooooootally noticed, too, Em. Good call.
5) Getting a text message from Katie telling me that Emily and I are dead to her because we were at the aforementioned Justin show and she wasn't.
6) My co-worker, Amy, doing an impression of a guy she went on a blind date with dancing badly at a U2 concert a few years ago.
7) Me smiling at the baby being held by the people walking up the stairs ahead of me at the Bryant Park station and not noticing that my shoe came off until I tripped on it and nearly cracked my head open.
8) That same evening, walking DOWN the stairs at the Lowery and tripping over my own stupid skirt. Peasant skirt, heels, reading a book while walking -- deadly combination.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Classless
I am thoroughly ashamed of myself, dear readers. Yesterday I, bastion of good manners and hater of all rude people, ditched someone. We were in the middle of a date, I excused myself to go to the bathroom where I started to sob uncontrollably about something completely unrelated to the date, and I left him sitting in the darkened theater waiting for the movie to start. And for this I am so guilt-ridden and bathed in absolute shame and horror, I cannot even tell you. He told me in a text message a bit later that I am classless and I am inclined to agree with him.
I don't know why I'm telling all of you this. It only makes me look bad and any fans I have will surely start reading someone else's nonsensical blog instead of this one just to punish me. But I had to tell someone. And who do I trust more than my blog readers?
My sister and my friends -- who love me no matter what stupid, insensitive things I do, inexplicably -- met me at our favorite bar in midtown, where I kept up the crying for a few more minutes and then just proceeded to feel bad about myself... which was followed by feeling very drunk, thanks to Ali.
I can't possibly convince the guy that it wasn't his fault I left him there (although I did apologize and tell him he's right, I am classless). I can't explain that I'm so tired of crying over this other stupid, completely unrelated thing that's going on in my life that I don't even want to think about it anymore let alone talk about it and that if I had come back from the ladies room with tears all over my face I would have had to explain why I was crying and I just couldn't do that. No one would understand that. And I wouldn't expect them to.
All I can say is, if he's reading this, I hope he knows that I know I'm a jerk. And I won't be accepting dates half-heartedly anymore because it's just not fair to the other person. I've learned my lesson -- even if I can't learn how not to be classless. And I do believe in karma and I know that the next time someone I like does something mean and insensitive to me that I had it coming.
I don't know why I'm telling all of you this. It only makes me look bad and any fans I have will surely start reading someone else's nonsensical blog instead of this one just to punish me. But I had to tell someone. And who do I trust more than my blog readers?
My sister and my friends -- who love me no matter what stupid, insensitive things I do, inexplicably -- met me at our favorite bar in midtown, where I kept up the crying for a few more minutes and then just proceeded to feel bad about myself... which was followed by feeling very drunk, thanks to Ali.
I can't possibly convince the guy that it wasn't his fault I left him there (although I did apologize and tell him he's right, I am classless). I can't explain that I'm so tired of crying over this other stupid, completely unrelated thing that's going on in my life that I don't even want to think about it anymore let alone talk about it and that if I had come back from the ladies room with tears all over my face I would have had to explain why I was crying and I just couldn't do that. No one would understand that. And I wouldn't expect them to.
All I can say is, if he's reading this, I hope he knows that I know I'm a jerk. And I won't be accepting dates half-heartedly anymore because it's just not fair to the other person. I've learned my lesson -- even if I can't learn how not to be classless. And I do believe in karma and I know that the next time someone I like does something mean and insensitive to me that I had it coming.
Translation device
When he says, "Why don't you ever call me?"
It actually means, "If you call me, I will either start a fight with you or not answer because if you call me that means you're needy, even if you are only calling because I gave you implicit instructions to do so. But I don't want to do all the work -- or any of the work in this relationship, if I can help it. So here's the deal: I can call you whenever I want and you should be there to talk to me. And then I'll pout and ask why you don't ever call me. But when you do I'll be completely unavailable. 'Cuz that's how I roll."
When he says, "You're mean to me."
It actually means, "You're telling me something I don't want to hear right now, something I've aggravated you into saying because I decided to start a fight rather than just have a pleasant conversation with you. Because if we just have a pleasant conversation we might just be getting along which might mean you're getting close to me and we can't have that. No sir!"
When he says, "I need you to tell me what's bothering you."
It actually means, "I have little to no interest in what is actually bothering you. If I have to know what is bothering you then I have to care about you. And if I do that then I'm not really a man. A man ignores you and makes you beg for attention but expects you to be ready to talk or text or just be there when he needs to hear your voice. And I am a man! But I want you to think I care so I'm going to pretend to listen to you now. And then I'll hang up and forget you even exist until the next time I'm drunk and horny and can't find anyone else to put up with my shit."
When he says, "I would never purposely hurt your feelings."
It actually means, "I want you to think I'm the kind of guy who keeps your feelings in mind. But I am completely oblivous to the fact that what I do hurts you, even when 'what I do' is as obviously hurtful as ignoring you, and yelling at you and calling you a 'drunk'."
When he says, "You're so cute when you're like this."
It actually means, "I love when you're drunk and flirty and not, you know, real. It's fun especially when you're far away and nothing really matters to either one of us except me making inappropriate comments about your breasts and you giggling at every stupid word that comes out of my mouth. This is way better than when you actually want to talk to the real me when we're sober. That's not fun at all."
It actually means, "If you call me, I will either start a fight with you or not answer because if you call me that means you're needy, even if you are only calling because I gave you implicit instructions to do so. But I don't want to do all the work -- or any of the work in this relationship, if I can help it. So here's the deal: I can call you whenever I want and you should be there to talk to me. And then I'll pout and ask why you don't ever call me. But when you do I'll be completely unavailable. 'Cuz that's how I roll."
When he says, "You're mean to me."
It actually means, "You're telling me something I don't want to hear right now, something I've aggravated you into saying because I decided to start a fight rather than just have a pleasant conversation with you. Because if we just have a pleasant conversation we might just be getting along which might mean you're getting close to me and we can't have that. No sir!"
When he says, "I need you to tell me what's bothering you."
It actually means, "I have little to no interest in what is actually bothering you. If I have to know what is bothering you then I have to care about you. And if I do that then I'm not really a man. A man ignores you and makes you beg for attention but expects you to be ready to talk or text or just be there when he needs to hear your voice. And I am a man! But I want you to think I care so I'm going to pretend to listen to you now. And then I'll hang up and forget you even exist until the next time I'm drunk and horny and can't find anyone else to put up with my shit."
When he says, "I would never purposely hurt your feelings."
It actually means, "I want you to think I'm the kind of guy who keeps your feelings in mind. But I am completely oblivous to the fact that what I do hurts you, even when 'what I do' is as obviously hurtful as ignoring you, and yelling at you and calling you a 'drunk'."
When he says, "You're so cute when you're like this."
It actually means, "I love when you're drunk and flirty and not, you know, real. It's fun especially when you're far away and nothing really matters to either one of us except me making inappropriate comments about your breasts and you giggling at every stupid word that comes out of my mouth. This is way better than when you actually want to talk to the real me when we're sober. That's not fun at all."
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Raise the fare, I dare you
If you're happy to see a blog entry from me you can THANK THE FUCKING NEW YORK MTA. I understand that rain is a powerful precipitant BUT it rains A LOT on the East Coast. Do you mean to tell me that one of the most populated cities in the world with the one of the most frequently used subway systems DOES NOT HAVE AN EMERGENCY PLAN IN PLACE FOR WHEN IT RAINS?
I'm going to try to get on the train again in a few minutes. I draw the line at 1 1/2 hrs spent on a subway at a time when it is AFRICA-HOT outside. It's just a little personal rule I have.
I swear, if those bastards even THINK about striking again this year they will have me to deal with and it WILL NOT BE PRETTY. And raise the fare, motherfuckers. I dare you.
I'm going to try to get on the train again in a few minutes. I draw the line at 1 1/2 hrs spent on a subway at a time when it is AFRICA-HOT outside. It's just a little personal rule I have.
I swear, if those bastards even THINK about striking again this year they will have me to deal with and it WILL NOT BE PRETTY. And raise the fare, motherfuckers. I dare you.
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