Women's Worst Enemy = Other Women?

I once read an article about how men in the workplace will frequently hire other men without feeling any sense of competition and then guide them along their career path, support them, teach them and go out of their way to act as a mentor. The article went on to say how often, women won’t hire other women, especially if attractive, because they feel threatened and there is an instant unfriendliness amongst women. Therefore, women aren’t willing to help their own kind which further holds back our gender. I think this is horribly sad. Women, are we holding eachother down?

I recently mentioned this to a girl friend who disagreed. We discussed how we embrace our female friendships and welcome new ones into our lives. We enjoy meeting new women, especially in the work place where this small group of people we see every weekday and share a good amount of our lives with, become like a second family. We welcome women who can enjoy low-maintenance laughs, cold beers, Bachelor premeire nights, and more than one bite of a baked good. But the article said we are the minority.

I have more than once been the victim of girl-on-girl work crime. At my first job out of college, an older woman tried to tell HR I was dressing inappropriately. My work clothes at that time consisted of mostly black and grey pants, button down shirts, sweaters, and a few skirts- boring, but colorful. I was living in Cleveland where it is Winter eight months out of the year, where even if I wanted to wear revealing clothing, I couldn’t because my body would be covered in mini icicles. Furthermore, I was too insecure about my post-college body to ever dress inappropriately. Perhaps it was my wardrobe’s lack of taupe trousers and charcoal-colored wool that made it seem too unsophisticated. There was an incident where this female co-worker pulled up my sweater closer to my neck and tried to tell me my bra straps were showing and warned me as if I was a child “we don’t dress like this at an office.” I told her it was a camisole and I’d never have my bra straps showing at the office. Additionally, this sweater was from The Limited, where they are hardly known for their raunchy clothing.

In an office of seven people, she went to our HR/Office Manager who didn’t agree with her claim but said she would bring it up with our president. He also found her claim unjustified. I later found out this woman had inner struggles with her appearance since childhood and always hid behind a tough, “I’m smart, I don’t have to be pretty” hard, exterior. I never once viewed her as unattractive or judged her by her appearance. She was quite humorous, she had good stories, she was smart, she was independent, she was athletic, she did her job well, and she did volunteer work on the side.

So were her personal issues of self hate just manifesting themselves into a bogus outrage at my appearance because I was young with long, amazing hair? Was this a true case of girl-on-girl work crime?

In recent years, although completely unconfirmed, I heard she had some minor procedures done, i.e. botox injections, and she got breast implants. So what is my response to that? More power to her. I never judged her on the size of her breasts to begin with so as long as she feels better about herself, she should walk tall and proud…in a strapless, bright fuchsia halter top…and all the other women of the world should cheer her on.

unWANTED: SERRANO CHILES

Beware of the Serrano Chile. If at all possible, avoid ever touching these small, shiny, green pieces of flaming hell.

Last night as I was preparing a tasty pineapple salsa to garnish these delicious teriyaki porkchops I was grilling, I needed to dice just one of these fiery devils to add to the salsa. I chopped one, added it to the mix, and continued on to chop a red bell pepper, my pepper ally in this unfortunate incident. I then started chopping some cilantro when it felt as if I may have slightly sliced my index finger, but i looked down to see no knife damage. Thirty seconds later my thumb started feeling the same symptoms yet there wasn’t even a slight abrasion. I then realized that the Serrano chiles are fierce. More fierce than Tyra Banks making fierce faces to demonstrate to a non-fierce America’s Next Top Model contestant how to be fierce. I washed my hands multiple times but the burn was quite established at this point and it became apparent that Mr. Serrano is to be dealt with like the possible pregnant frogs you dissected in 9th grade- carefully, with rubber gloves, goggles, a knife, and a possible partner.

Five hours later after my smoldering finger-tips were starting to feel relief, I got ready to retire for the evening, which always includes removing my contacts. I had no issues last night but this morning as I attempted to insert these floppy discs into my eyeballs, it was as if I inserted a flaming hot cheeto instead. My eyeballs have never felt such an intense burn. I rushed to remove the contacts but the sensation just got worse, as if now someone was squirting Tapatio into my iris. Those stupid peppers, that should come with a Surgeon General’s warning, somehow attached their hellish heat rays to my contacts! So much for that new pair of contacts I just opened three days ago. I washed my hands another 22 times and tried again with a new pair…and HOW is it possible my one eyeball is still slightly feeling the wrath? Serrano chile…you can go back to hell…where you apparently came from.

Egg-strordinary

I don't understand the rule behind the splitting of a carton of eggs in half and only purchasing six eggs. Is this an unspoken but legal grocery store action? Because I don't need a dozen eggs, I am only one person (if we were talking mini twix bars, then yes, I may need a dozen). I often see a half carton of eggs just sitting there and figure someone only needed six eggs so they split the carton in half with their pocket knife and only purchased half. But you're allowed to do this? Where is this rule written down? And how does the check-out person ring up a half dozen eggs if they are priced for twelve?

It's not like you can just do this with any food. Cue Steve Martin in 'Father Of The Bride' where he wants to buy just eight hot dog buns to go with his eight hot dogs but the buns are only sold in packs of twelve so he decides to remove four buns from the package so he doesn't have to pay for them, but we all know this isn't how it works. So why does it work with eggs? Can someone please egg-splain?

The Flight Of Beauty?

I wore this shirt the other day and pondered what “the flight of beauty” actually means. The word “flight” makes me think of an airplane, a means to reach your destination. A flight could be a journey or voyage and perhaps the purpose is to find, enhance, and /or constantly work towards beauty, both inner and outer sources. The flight of beauty may be what happens once you find your inner confidence and can truly chase your dreams and become a better person, all while maintaining gorgeous hair and a fabulous wardrobe. Initially that’s what I thought the message of this Express branded t-shirt circa 2008 meant- an encouraging theory of inspiration I was sharing with the world.

I later realized the word “flight” also means an escape, or departure and now the message advertised across my bosom meant something completely opposite- “the escape of beauty”. The shirt might as well say “Look people, I am getting older with each passing minute and it is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a flat stomach, hide the fact that I need an eye lift, not wanna smack screaming children in Target, and not lose my patience with my mother as I am evolving into her.”

This shirt is ridiculing my age, my appearance, my sometimes negative attitude, and the little patience that remains within me to deal with the masses in a friendly manner.

There is only one way this shirt can be worn in the future to avoid confusion in the message: with a pair of slimming jeans, my Manolo Blahniks, coordinating accessories, lip gloss, a smile, and all of my remaining beauty exposed with my head held high…recent blow-out applied to the hair of course.

Must Write for Sanity

My own misery and lack of general direction in life has inspired me to focus on my writing for a number of reasons, some of which I will list now:

1. I like writing

2. I’m good at writing…almost as good as I am at inhaling fun size candy bars

3. I have relevant and hilarious things to say

4. People ask me about my blog all the time and then I have to admit to the both of us that I am a huge failure and don’t post because I’m too busy...which translates into paralyzation by Supernanny re-runs

5. With age, I am losing my funniness and I’m in a desperate search to hold onto the little that remains

6. Writing exercises my brain and unfortunately my brain has been in a quasi-hibernation since college (and it has nothing to do with my alcohol intake during those years…please see my liver for any issues pertaining to Beast consumption)

7. Writing is a release- it’s therapy. I can, share, vent, identify, explore, analyze, and gather comrades to laugh with.

8. A small part of me believes my blog will just happened to be discovered Brian Fate style. You know, the record producer who just happened to be jogging by the garage and discovered Zach Attack.

9. I want to be a Kathy Griffin/Chelsea Handler/Conan O’Brien/Shaquille O’Neal/Tucker Max hybrid of hilarious glory.

10. It is my duty. I feel it is my duty to serve you- the people, my readers, my friends- a daily dose of hilariousness. And by daily, I mean I’m aiming to post at least three times a week until I become the hybrid listed in #9 and will have the time to post everyday since it will be my full-time job and I can spend the rest of my days in 6 hour work-out regimens with my trainer to the stars.

Will my boring, miserable life get in the way of making all of this happen? It’s possible. But I will be keeping my eye on the prize…Brian Fate.

A Written Apology

My last blog was in May of 2008...almost a year ago. I'm disappointed in myself. I've let myself down. I've let you down. You're probably not even checking my blog so I can't be sure anyone is even hearing my apology. A friend, a good one who understands my hilarity, suggested I start a video blog since people are lazy and would rather watch something than read something. I've been contemplating it until last week when I heard a voice mail of myself...MY VOICE IS AWFUL! I sound like a boy, a child with a botched tracheotomy, a cartoon polar bear. I couldn't talk for hours after I heard it because I was so appalled.

Writing hilarious commentary is a passion. I'm not sure I'm on-camera talent. I mean, of course I have the hair for the big screen (or just one of the 50,000 video blogs on the Internet), but this voice won't get me anywhere but a possible voice over next to a D-list celebrity in "Air Bud 5".

I will continue to contemplate the idea of video blogging but for now, I'm gonna stick to a written blog. This is a place where people can continue to hear me...without actually hearing me.

Great Sex!

Everybody loves great sex and last night I experienced the best of it for two and a half hours!!!-- I had a front row seat at an advanced screening of “Sex & The City: The Movie” and there wasn’t one moment that didn’t bring extreme pleasure. Appropriately, our group of four sat amongst other anxious fans as bonus footage from the Red Carpet of the New York City premiere warmed us up for the main event. As the stars exited their limos in predictably incredible fashion get-ups, the theater crowd cheered for their favorites, Kim Cattrell (Samantha) receiving the most screams and cheers. Finally, as we are ready to burst, Sarah Jessica leads us into the NYC theater and we are all on the edge of our seats as an upgraded, jazzier version of the tantalizing theme song re-introduces us to the magical scenes of New York and our four favorite forty-somethings.

The entire screenplay was perfectly executed. Missing is absolutely nothing from the clever and full-circle writings of the individual episodes that we all fell in love with. It packs even more true-life hilarity, while creating new and relatable heart-smashing despair. The fashion somehow, someway even managed to step it up as a pair of Manolo’s becomes so much more than a “$480- no, $525” pair of pumps.

This was probably the best movie I have seen in years. Even if you have never seen the television series, the movie is strong enough to stand alone and still worth your Friday night. The first ten minutes highlight each character’s personality enough to understand who they are, what they are about and why the world loves this quartet.

I give this ‘Sex’ a ten out of ten….and I’m not easy to please!