I'M IN FARMVILLE BUMBLEF*CK HELL! Where internet does not exist but for dial-up connections (where I play songs on the piano while I wait for pages to load). Where the nearest mall is 40 miles away. Where Sue Ellen leaves notes all over my room and refigerator: "Quit Eating". And where my father watches nothing but Law and Order and the Fox News Channel.

I'M GOING OUT OF MY MIND!! SOMEONE PLEASE SAVE ME OR SHOOT ME THEM NOW.

My favorite Irish Boy (formerly of Detroit) is no longer my favoite having abandoned me for the mountains of Colorado. He did however offer this astute observation: This is why we all come back for the holidays....to be reminded of why we left in the first place.

Frankly, someone hand me the Kool-aid I'm ready to drink.

There's an elf in my office - and not the kind sent from Santa. He's a scary little man that roams the halls of my work building. He is about 5’1, has an odd looking, pointy gotee, and speaks with unnerving, low-volume formality such as ‘greetings’ and ‘have a stupendous day.’ and this strange little person has developed a fixation on me.

He's asked me out three times. The last time, after trying to be nice to the previous two offers, ‘sorry, I’m busy that day.’ ‘I really don’t think I can’ to no avail. And so, I finally had to lie:

‘I have a boyfriend, I really can’t’ .

To which he replied: ‘ahhh…I see. Is it a deep relationship?’

‘oh ya. The deepest.’

But now he’s resorted to full-on stalking and it’s wierding me out.

He works in the suite next to mine and as I was walking to the ladies room this morning I spotted him down the hall, walking into his suite. Then coming out of the ladies' room...he was waiting for me!

And he smiled and said ‘hello, Scarlett'.

‘hi’ (still walking...trying to get away)

‘you’re looking particularly luscious I must say’

(I kid you not – those words came out of his mouth). Keep in mind that I woke up 20 minutes before I had to leave the house. My hair air-dried all curly, I have on NO makeup, jeans, and a big, bulky sweater. ‘Luscious’ is NOT an appropriate term for me at this present moment.

He then inquired as to my holiday plans.

‘I’m going home....far far away...to dallas ’.

‘oh. I thought you were from the south’

‘um…texas IS the south’

I'm not scared of this man - i could drop kick this little midget from here to Philly - it's just creepy and now I am a prisoner in my suite scared to roam the halls for fear of encountering this elf.

Frankly, I think this officially makes me a freak magnet.

Ridiculous –

So I get on the metro this morning, and I’m running late, it’s about 8:30 so the train isn’t exceptionally crowded, which is nice. I step into the doorway and on the left side of the aisle the first and second row of seats are empty. How lovely. Now I don’t like sitting in the first row if I can avoid it, I like having a barrier of sorts in front of me (yes, I’m neurotic, I know) so I make my way to the second row, and have a seat next to the window and begin to get settled, put my purse down beside me and open my Examiner.

I’m all cozy and settled with Butch Walker drowning out the din of the metro car (dark, noisy little world, remember?) when a man comes up and stands by my seat in the implied gesture of ‘I want to sit here’. I’m so confused (which happens easily and often before I have my coffee).

Picture this: there is a empty row in front of me…and empty row to the right of me…Hell! Besides the fanny-pack-clad tourists at the other end of the car, we were practically the only people in the car! Doesn’t this man know the unspoken rule of the metro that “if there is a seat readily available that is NOT next to another person you take THAT seat!? And you must AVOID sitting next to someone if at all humanly possible??”

So um…um…ok……move my purse and my raincoat (the forecast said rain!) and skootch over so this man may sit beside me because apparently it’s the ONLY place in this ENTIRE car that he could sit. And because I was next to the window, it would have been awkward for me to switch seats…besides I was there first, dammit! So I calmed down a bit, maybe this is easily explained and he’s just getting off at the next station. No….5…count them…FIVE stops later, he finally gets off. At the Pentagon no less...well...THAT's comforting.

You might be saying, Scarlett, it’s obvious. Was he cute? Maybe he wanted to strike up a conversation? No no no no no. Russell Crowe/Clive Owen he was NOT. And to tell you the truth, not even a sexy Aussie accent could have made him any more attractive. He was I’m guessing 47, very into his blackberry, no attempt to do the creepy ‘let me be your sugar daddy’ come on. Which leaves me even MORE baffled.

I'm sorry, sir, are you imaginary friends sitting in the seats surrounding us?? Why, why creepy metro man did you have to invade my safety circle when we both could have enjoyed our separate commutes well…. Separately? Ya know, I should have just turned to him and said….excuse me, sir…but my Aura needs room to breathe.

Frankly,

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Side Notes:

The drilling continues. Yesterday, they set off the fire alarm and while the clanging of the fire bell DID manage to drown out the sound of the drilling – evacuating the building and standing outside for 45 minutes wasn’t exactly my idea of a productive afternoon.

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Project Runway: Drama Drama Drama! Jeffery – your wife is creepy looking and I’m pretty sure Laura’s right…you cheated! Laura – you are the most fabulous pregnant woman I’ve ever seen! Uli – kind of annoying me…not lovin the outfits Micheal – the sequins on shirt pockets??? Ya…not so much

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Song of the day: I Wish I Were a Punk Rocker: Sandi Thom

There is a jack hammer tearing up the parking garage in my office building. It has been going on for four days. It is so loud that my desk is shaking. It sounds like a broken vibrator that needs to be put out of its misery. It’s so loud I cannot make necessary phone calls because I CAN”T HEAR THE PERSON ON THE OTHER LINE. Hell! I can barely hear my secretary buzz me on my intercom! Its noon and I’ve already popped 6 Excedrin migraines. I’m loosing my mind. I can’t take it. I AM GOING TO SNAP!  I can see the Law & Order, ripped-from-the-headlines’-episode now: (cue wavy dream sequence) Title: “Jack Hammer”. The premise: a sweet, smart, amazingly hot redhead played by Lindsey Lohan (hey! My L&O episode, my fantasy!) After much emotional and professional stress, she is pushed over the edge by the sound of a jackhammer pounding away, non stop in her office building for FOUR days. One day her VP asks her to scrap a presentation she’s been working on for a week and a half because she’s decided to go in a different direction and…she just snaps…goes nuts… kills her VP and anyone else that has managed to piss her off in the last week or so (don’t worry – I’m really not this violent but this is L&O, and I wouldn’t be put on trial for just yelling at people or breaking down in tears now would I?). Picture it, the courtroom scene, my lawyer cross-examining me, bringing in shrinks with theories, telling the jury that it wasn’t me but the sound of that jackhammer 6 hours a day, non stop, for 4 days straight that drove me to it. The jury comes back with a “not guilty on all counts” verdict and A.D.A Jack McCoy charges the construction company with…criminally loud…migraine inducing….maintenance work and orders the company to pay me $1.3 million dollars for mental and physical anguish. I rush into the arms of my boyfriend (played by Russell Crowe….again MY fantasy). And we live happily ever after! THE END Ok, so I have a vivid imagination (and perhaps watch a little too much L&O)…BUT I’M LOOSING MY MIIIIINNNNDDDDDDDD!

Hey, just stumbled across your blog. You seem like a smart, classy girl and you also like college football, which is awesome. It’s interesting to read.

Oh but wait, then I saw your tribute to Sex and the City. Sure, lots of girls like that show, but if you think of Samantha as a role model, that’s pretty sick. You like her because she slept with younger guys and made cursing less shocking or something. So you obviously admire foul-mouthed, shallow, and slutty women. Perhaps you’re like that yourself. I hope not. I’m going to hope that that old post was a momentary lapse. Or maybe you were just drunk. Which you seem to be often.

Mr. Reader

Samantha is my religion. She demystified the F-word and put a nice feminine spin on it. 'Fuck' is like brunch' - it's trendy and necessary and very specific. It's bigger than brunch, frankly. It's more important. It's hotter. Its shocking, but not. It's not because Samantha said it. She wins. And when she wins, we win. Look at Smith Jerrod, for god's sake. She clearly WON there. So, we won too. Week after week of looking at that yummy boy was a party favor we did not deserve.

Second, Mr. Reader, let’s review your take on what I said:

1. You think it’s “sick” that I think of her as a role model
2. I like her because she slept with younger guys and she swears a lot
3. Therefore, I am slutty, shallow, and foul-mouthed

A-hem (clearing my throat, trying not to giggle). Let’s address these concerns one at a time, shall we?

1. I have chosen a smart, successful, beautiful, strong, independent, and honest woman as my role model. Good Lord what HAVE I done!? Samantha Jones owns her own business, does not rely on a man or anyone else to take care of her, she is over 40 and is not freaking out because she doesn’t have kids, you don’t see her waiting by the phone for some guy to call, or taking any abuse from cheating men either. She’s not a hypocrite like so many women I know. She puts it all out there. She says “this is who I am and if you don’t like it, then F*ck off!”

Oh! Not to mention that she dealt with BREAST CANCER with grace and dignity. She’s a fighter, she’s a survivor and most importantly she’s there when her friends need her most. While I don’t think I specifically referred to her as a role model…I guess she is. Maybe not for six year olds, but for women in general, abso-frecking-lutely.

Round Two (Ding!)

2. I do not like her because she’s slept with younger guys. I like her for all the above mentioned reasons and because Smith Jared was IS SUCH a cutie! That’s all! We should all be so lucky to find, not only a boy that hot but one who would shave his head for you!

Round Three (Ding!)
3. That I am Foul Mouthed, Slutty and Shallow – wow, Mr. Reader! You could tell all that from the fact that I like Samantha Jones? Hello, Mr. Perception.

As for the foul mouthed: granted, I probably swear more than I should but I’m not a sailor and can certainly rein it in whenever inappropriate.

Slutty: well, I guess it depends on your definition so you’ll have to enlighten me since I can not refute a claim when I don’t know your definition of Slutty. Alas, I will not innumerate my sexual escapades for you, but I will say that they are seldom random, that I have a healthy sex drive for a 26 year old woman, and yes, do enjoy sex. I suppose I am somewhere between virginal and Samantha Jones, I guess. (But then again, most of us are.) If that makes me a slut…so be it. Get me a T-shirt and let’s call it a day.

Finally, Shallow (these are all very subjective terms, Mr. Reader): if you are referring to my comments that “Smith Jarred” was hot, then yes, you are right. Are you ACTUALLY proposing that I am objectifying him??? Because THAT would be funny. “Hello, my name is Scar;ett. I love hot men”. Someone PLEASE recommend a 12 step program because apparently I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Round Four (Ding!)
Dear, Dear, Mr. Reader I was most disturbed by the “you seem to be drunk often” comment. First of all, you say it like it’s a BAD thing!? Hehe.

I must admit, many of my posts, especially the ones alluding to nights on the town and the resulting craziness, mention a significant amount of alcohol consumption. For the simple fact that the more interesting things seem to happen when I am, in fact drunk, or out among intoxicated people. Can’t have really anything interesting to blog about if I stay inside watching Law & Order reruns every night now can I? Actually many of my fun-filled-alcoholic nights are broken up over two posts, and most occur on Fridays. I would also like to point out the fact that I did NOT go out with my roommate last Thursday and I went out hard core ONE night over the long weekend.

*Sigh.* Mr. Reader is right again, folks. I enjoy going out and getting little crazy on Fridays.

So I surrender, Mr. Reader. You win. Please pass whatever judgment or punishment you deem appropriate for a strong-woman admiring, verbally expressive, sexually healthy, Absolut buying, draft beer drinking deviant.

Guilty as charged.

Frankly,

[Disclaimer: Please read with caution as this entry contains subject matter and emotions of an angry and disturbing nature. Note, optimists and my naive friends who have seen nothing of the truly bad things of the world, have never had friends betray you, and think the world is a fair place, where good things happen to good people and bad people end up alone and miserable....please don't read this. I would hate to shatter your fragile world image]

So it isnt always easy to be happy for our friends.We all know this. Example: Barbie #2 continues to spend blissful weekends with her tall, smart, funny, PERFECT boyfriend while I'm stuck on the blind date circuit from hell and I need a passport to visit the man I'm in love with! But I am happy for her! Really!

So we've established that it can be hard to be happy for our friends, but we are. But it's damn near impossible to be happy for our enemies. And please understand, there are a very very few people in the world i would consider "my enemies". There are a fair number of people I dislike, to be sure. But i don't like the word "hate" and so use it with extreme caution...like chili powder. However, some definitely deserve the title. I won't elaborate why...long story....let's just say that the very worst enemies were once friends.

Which brings me to the subject of my entry... Why do GOOD things happen to BAD people? WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME? There I was, just minding my own business, checking my email ....ok ok, i wasnt minding my own business, and i asked for it. Somone that i havent spoken a civil word to in, literally a century, but for some reason i STILL have on my instant messenger, posts the link to her blog.

 Ok, ok i know why i still have her on my instant messenger, because i periodically check to see if perhaps she's developed an incurable disease... ok, ok, i dont want her to die, but perhaps be unhappy, un wed, living in new jersey...WORSE...OHIO! YES! Living in Ohio with a child,and she's not sure of the father, constantly reminding her of all the mistakes shes made in her life and maybe, oh maybe her life could have turned out differently IF SHE HAD ONLY BEEN A NICE PERSON!!!!

So....hoping to have these woes, trials and sorrows ennumerated for all the web to see, ...i went to the blog. Sadly, she is blissfully happy living with her fabulous (and might i add, fabously rich) husband a georgous set of flatware, a house, and a dog. If this lovely mental image of disguisting perfection werent enough....SHE"S GOT PICTURES over 200 snapshots of the honeymoon (in Paris), the anniversary in Bermuda, the vacation aboard the family yacht! Someone SHOOT ME NOW!

Okok...I didnt have to "view the slideshow".....subject myself to the torture...but ...being morbidly curious....who knows? if there was a fair and just God, maybe she got fat! Sadly no....great body as always...but....apparently her husband can't afford a nose job for his wife. oh well. That is some consolation.