The Scarlett Letters - Rant-O-Rama

Committed Astrology

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 14:26:33 -0500

I was particularly disturbed/amused/a bit troubled to see the follow horoscope displayed ever so neatly under the heading of my astrological sign this afternoon (brought to you by the cracker jack psycic team at msn.com):

If things get too hard for you, dear Cancer, are you open to seeking out some counseling? Don't let pride or embarrassment get in the way of getting the support you need in your life when things get to be too much. Ever look in the yellow pages under this category? There are literally thousands available. This is because there's a great demand for these services! You're not alone and the sooner you take care of yourself, the quicker you'll get back on the right track.

To paraphrase: "Are things so bad these days that you are taking our astrological predictions a little too literally?? If this is you, maybe you should seek professional help."

Seriously MSN? SERIOUSLY??

What I even find MORE disturbing than this clairvoyant endorsement of the ever respected mental health industry*, is that their advice: Please, put your mental health and psychotropic drug prescriptions in the hands of a shrink who drums up business through THE YELLOW PAGES!!!

Have you seen the recent yellow pages television adds? The little chubby kid comes home from school looking discouraged and all of a sudden a magical touch screen Yellow Pages directory appears in his living room? And then the boy searches for marshal arts classes leaving the television audience writ large to assume he will learn to defend himself from said bullies? Thus the Harry Potter-esque Yellow Pages saves the day.

What would this ad entail I wonder?? Zoom in on a suicidal nutcase with a razor in her hand ready to end it all because it's finally hit her that there won't be any more Heath Ledger movies and aforementioned magical screen pops up in her bathtub and she decides to put down the Venus Vibrance blades and look for mental health professionals cuz, now that she thinks of it, there's always Russell Crowe and thus always a reason to keep on living can always be found?!

How do you even BEGIN that conversation "And who referred you to our offices?", "My internet psychic" -- Well if your goal was to get bumped to a more elite category of crazy person...

Somehow, I don't think so.

Frankly,

*It should be noted that I have great respect for the miracle workers in the mental and behavioral health industries having many truly ~~dedicated~~ committed professionals (pun intended) on speed dial. None of them were found via yellowpages, verizon superpages or any other 10 lb. directory.

Before He Cheats

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 11:51:01 -0500

All I have to say today is that if a man can cheat on Christie-fucking-Brinkley, is there any hope of fidelity for the mere mortals?

All morning, chattering on endlessly on Fox News, CNN, MSNBC – relationship and sex “experts” called upon to analyze and explain to the rest of us, who may mistakenly “blame” the man for cheating, that its biological and not really the man’s fault. This is important information as the tendency to point manicured, judgmental fingers and assign fault to the philandering husband is certainly basic and strong.

[Side note: How does one actually BECOME a sex or relationship “expert”? I don’t remember Relationships101 on the course roster at any academic institution I have ever frequented. Sex 101 could be found on any given Saturday night at the Sigma Chi house, but that’s about it. Personally, I think anyone who has lived and dated in the nation’s capitol for a year or more has earned at least an Associates if not an honorary BA in sex if not relationships. It is my contention that to avoid the socially stigmatic label of “whore”, these women have just slapped the term “expert” on a business card in a swirly, pink embossed font and Voila! She’s ready to wax philosophical on all things romantic.].

As I was saying, these so called “experts” have offered some fabulous, non-judgey insights into the male psyche. More specifically, into the phenomena that the concept of monogamy acts as Teflon for men (i.e. never sticking).

************

Q: Why do older men feel they can’t keep it in their pants when the opportunity to sleep with teenagers presents itself?

“Expert”: This behavior satisfies their biological need to feel young.

Scarlett: Because they don’t care about anyone but themselves. They don’t care about any marriage vows or commitments they made to their wives and the certainly don’t give a damn about using young women for sex. If he needs to feel younger, get some Botox and be done with it!!

************

Q: Why do teenagers or “younger” women want older men?

“Expert”: The teenagers are looking to find the love and affection they never received from their fathers.

Scarlett: Because they are in the throws of an eating disorder, have low self esteem, or are still bitter because they didn’t make head cheerleader last year. Add to that epidemic to stupidity and there’s your answer.

************

Q: Why do men cheat?

“Expert”: Affairs offer these men a means of escaping from the everyday stress of marriage, commitment, children, etc.

Scarlett: Well boo fucking hoo and cry me a river the size of an Iowa flood. It’s called being a adult. If you need an “escape” from life, go to Vegas, watch some strippers, relax. Don’t sleep with you nineteen year old receptionist!

************

Is it not possible to call someone a scumbag anymore on national television? Is it taboo to say simply – “bottom line: you’re a miserable human being”? Where are the Simon Cowell’s of the relationship “expert” community who have the balls to stand up and say the romantic equivalent of “You suck. You’re not going to Hollywood. Don’t let the doorknob smack you in the ass on your way out of the audition room!”

Sigh. Hang in there, Christie. Listen to some Carrie Underwood and feel better!

Frankly,

Corporate America is Making Me Ill

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 08:54:00 -0600

Thank you for all the well wishes, virtual flowers and e-cards that you have heaped upon me, dear readers. It certainly makes me feel all warm and fuzzy…well, it could just be the veritable rainbow of over-the-counter decongestants and fever reducers that I’m still popping by the hour.

Why is it that I decided it would be a good idea to drag my fuzzy, sniffly headed self into the office today? I felt like I’m carrying around the Bubonic cold – potentially infecting everyone near me though I’m too stingy with my days off to do the greater Washington, DC metropolitan area a favor and confine the disease to my apartment. Selfish and pathetic, I know – but I never claimed to be anything else.

It seems as though in this American corporate culture of eat or be eaten, 50 hours a week is no longer good enough, gotta keep going to get ahead – that it has evolved at a much more rapid pace than modern medical science. That until our immune systems can keep up with our ambitions, we have no choice but to haul our infected, miserable asses into work – else be labeled a slacker and give others the opportunity to pass us by.

Therefore, it’s the American Corporate Capitalist Machine (said the registered, Texas Republican) that forced me to contaminate the Metro Red Line riders this morning – NOT the fact that I want to save my time off for something REALLY important like, a vacation….or a hangover.

Faulty logic? Perhaps. But remember, I’m heavily medicated.

Frankly,

My Few Reasons

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 11:56:00 -0600

Thank you, Travelocity. Thank you for sending this friendly email alerting to the low, low fares currently available from Washington, DC to New Mexico. Very useful. Appreciated. Thanks to these winter specials, I was able to fly to the god forsaken dessert in the middle of January last year for a weekend of playing in the snow, green chili cheese fries, cuddling next to a fire and mind blowing marathon sex.

Sadly, Mr. Faretracker, you are ill informed otherwise you never would have thought to send me the “Reasons Why I Should Visit Albuquerque Now”. I no longer care about the beauty of Old Town, the lure of mountains majesty or the abundance of rice, beans and tortillas. In fact, I prefer northeastern woods to balding mountains; the historic, cobblestone streets of Philadelphia to long abandoned Spanish missions; and Italian and red wine to burritos and margaritas.

Therefore, I rebut your suggestion with my own little travel guide entitled: the “Reasons Why Albuquerque is the Seventh Circle of Hell and All Mention of New Mexico Needs to Stay the Fuck Out of My Inbox”.

There are MUCH better places to spend a long weekend including Vegas, London, New York, bunblefuck Arkansas…the list is almost endless.
Everything in Albuquerque is either orange or turquoise - including the highways…need I say more?
False Advertising: Nat King Cole painted Route 66 in a much more glamorous light…no ‘kicks’ to be had, only potholes.
The Irish pubs are tended by Mexicans. That’s just wrong.
[I was advised not to publish reason #5 as I suppose it could be interpreted by some parties who read this blog (and by parites I mean party, as in one) as, well...un-kind. I personally thought it was clever]

Personally, I take the fact that my brand new passport photo was so good that a Tibetan monk standing in line with me at the CVS photo counter commented on it (I kid you not) as a sign that my future holds a much more varied and exciting list of destinations outside of the greater Albuquerque metropolitan region.

Frankly, Mr. Faretracker, you can either seduce me with more sound ideas and more alluring travel suggestions – or you needn’t return.

In The Forest Of Self-Righteousness

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 08:45:00 -0600

Now you’ve gone and done it. You’ve pissed off a redhead and more importantly, you've hurt her friends. And so the claws begin to come out...THIS should be fun (although there are more fun treats to come, my dear, just you wait. The fun thing about karma is that ...it's SUCH a bitch :) )

Ya know, after wading through the murkey waters of high school in a highly controlled, uniformed, religious environment (hell we even dressed alike!) I learned a great deal about people. I learned about the importance of differentiating yourself to maintain one’s sanity - be it by sewing star shaped buttons on your kilt, wearing lots of bracelets or rings, etc. – little ways of expressing your individuality lest you loose your identity and swim upstream with the rest of the salmon.

I learned the importance of questioning. Of asking “why” rather that regurgitating information. Why does this biblical passage mean this? Group: Ummm…because the Pope SAID so? Scarlett: Ummm…a GOOD reason please?

So group think, while slightly tragic doesn’t really shock or disorrient me.

Not that judgment doesn’t have its time and place. Hell – if it weren’t for judgment Hey Pretty and I would have nothing better to do at social functions! What DOES piss me off is moral superiority. The belief that you, my dear in your string of fake pearls, Ann Taylor twin set and girl scout merit badges framed on your wall are not only PERFECT but you feel the benevolent urge to bestow your unsolicited and, of course, infallible advice to all those you happen to come in contact with. Lucky us.

This is obviously annoying when applied to strangers but the thought is damn near ridiculous when applied to friendships.

Friendships – you remember those don’t you? Those relationships that are supposed to be based on mutual respect and understanding? Those special people in your life that you choose to share experiences with? Life milestones with? Secrets, laughter and retail therapy with no strings or, you guessed it, judgment attached?

So what do you do when the people who are supposed to support you don’t approve of your decisions? Who profess to be your friends but the minute you step away from the ‘group think’ mentality turn on you and make it their personal mission to make your life a living hell?

Should you find yourself in such an unfortunate situation, dear reader, the way I see it, you have one of three options:

Option #1. Attempt to apologize. Smooth things over. Say you’re sorry. You wouldn’t want to ruffle too many feathers. After all – you’re “friends” are only thinking about what’s best for you, right?

* Option #2:Smile. Put up with their obviously misinformed and self-diluted advice. Nod when they say that you’re completely and totally wrong. Agree when they say that you suck. Anything is better than loosing your “friends” after all.

Option #3: Give the only possible response to such terrible behavior. F*CK YOU! A real friend wouldn’t bat an eye while they listen, offer the best advice possible, continue to support you in whatever you do and be there to pick up the pieces without saying ‘I told you so’ should it turn out that you were right.

Remember...Judgy-Wudgy was a bear…

And to the wildlife in the jungle of self-righteousness, I say …. We know we can’t all be as perfect and as morally uncompromising as you are – we must strive to find our own way, our own happiness. And you must strive to find other lemmings who WILL live the lives YOU want them to lead and eventually follow you off a cliff.

And just remember, darling...inner beauty WON'T get you laid!

Frankly,

*Bonus points if you know which DC blogger's salute this is!

Ritual Suicide

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Wed, 27 Dec 2006 21:33:55 -0600

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.

The Elf

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 10:52:00 -0600

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.

Let My Aura Breathe!

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Thu, 12 Oct 2006 16:56:00 -0500

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,

************

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.

************

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

*********

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

Law & Order

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 16:31:00 -0500

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!

Dear Mr. Reader:

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 12:57:00 -0500

Ok, maybe I’m new to the whole blogger popularity thing and perhaps ‘hate mail’ is a common occurrence (perhaps some of you veterans comment on this?)

I recently received the following email and it starts off nice…

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.

Thank you so much! (smile…blush)….reading on….

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

My goodness, Mr. Reader! Well, first of all, thank you for reading and if you weren’t TOO off-put by my Ode to Carrie Bradshaw, I hope you will return from time to time.

I felt compelled to respond to this email, not because I feel that I need to defend myself, necessarily…while it is tempting..but perhaps to offer some amount as clarification. Please do keep in mind that this blog and the ideas spewing from my laptop are, in fact MINE, being forced on no one, so there really is no need for name calling is there? However, if you would like to engage in a lively discussion, let’s go! Round One (DING!)
Let us review what exactly I said about dear, dear Samantha Jones:

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:

You think it’s “sick” that I think of her as a role model
I like her because she slept with younger guys and she swears a lot
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,

Can't Afford a Nose Job?

scarlett@thescarlettletters.com (Scarlett) — Sat, 06 May 2006 16:24:00 -0500

[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.

Frankly,