mawwwwwwage

Recently I went to a friend’s wedding.  During the ceremony, and the reception there after, you could literally see the happiness shooting off this fella and his bride. If I had that hippy-dippy ability to read people’s aura’s, theirs would be a blazing hot pink surrounded by rainbows. It was great to see, and it made me reflect on the past few weddings I’d been to.

 

But the Background should be pink

But the Background should be pink

 

A friend of mine got married a little over a year ago.  And we had been friends for a really long time.  I’m talking, upwards of a decade.  In that situation, you really want nothing more than to be thrilled and excited your friend was getting married.  He found the person he wanted to share the rest of his life with, hooray!

(This sort of ties into my previous post, about my inability to sugarcoat things, and if I should even say anything…the quandry…blah blah blah )

A while before my friend walked down the aisle, I met his then-girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancee.  I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed very sweet…funny, entertaining, in love – and she seemed to take good care of my friend – which is awesome.  We hung out a few times after that, and I truly enjoyed her company.

I clearly remember where everything changed.

::cue ominous music::

One evening, we gathered as a group to one of my favorite local restaurants that was doing this great event called a “Beer and Bourbon” night, where they close down the restaurant, create a special 5 course meal paired with craft beers and Bourbons.  Its so awesome.  So, SO awesome.  We were all having fun, hanging out, and my friend’s girlfriend peers over her beer and goes “JoJo.  I broke him”.  Confused, and assuming there’s a joke somewhere, I got “Well how come?  I didn’t know he was broken!”

“he’s going to marry me!”

::confusion is starting to settle in::

“…okay…that’s great!”

My friend now interjects, and tells me this little story about how his girlfriend updated her Facebook status to “engaged”, spinning a little web of deceit.  He only found out after some of his friends started to text and congratulate him, looking to portray this is a funny joke.  A gag.  Now, I am not the girl who thinks its cool to drag your man down the aisle.  It is not a good look.  Not for me, not for you – not for anyone (and I can pull off orange taffeta).  I truly believe if you are going to marry someone, they have to want to marry you.  Enough to ask.  Of their own volition.  And if they don’t, or you have to trick them into it…you’re simply setting yourself up for failure.

As the evening goes on, she continues to tell me how there is a time frame in when they will be engaged, and then married, and then have children.  If the time frame gets delayed, she has a plan to move it along…by “forgetting” to take her birth control pills.

Hard Stop Number Two.

Yeah, that’s me.  Speechless.

At the end of the day, the only thing you can do is tell your friend the truth.  Which I did.  Afterwards, I continued to hear some horrible things she was doing, and saying about people I care a lot about – people I had been friends with for a very, very long time.  I could clearly see the kind of person she was underneath the exterior she was using to blind my friend.  He couldn’t – and it put a strain on our friendship.  It got to a point where he said to me (after one particularly ridiculous incident at their wedding – mind you, I’m trying to keep this story as vague as possible.  My friends know who I’m talking about, and so will he, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings with all the repulsive details about this woman) that he didn’t think I treated his wife with the respect she deserved.

I disagree, I think I treated her with more respect than she deserved.  If it were my choice, I would never have associated with her again, after I read a text she sent to a mutual friend saying she wanted to punch my friend out – for reasons that are so insignificant and immature – or told me she wanted to trap my friend into marriage by getting knocked up.  And we haven’t spoken, really, since his wedding – which makes me a little sad.

And this, friends, is one of the casualties of not being able to censor what you think of people.

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The Focus Is On ME!

A few months ago, I was selected to be in a focus group.  Yea, you heard me right – focus group.  About the LIRR. Specifically, their bathrooms.

Yahtzee.  As we’ve discussed in the past, the Long Island Railroad – while vastly impressive in the number of people it hauls to and from the great City of New York, leaves a lot to be desired.

Some of the issues with the LIRR are not railroad problems – they’re people problems.  I could talk for days…and days…and days…about some of the freaks I’ve encountered during my 10 years (and counting) commuting from different areas of the Island into the City.  I’d type them all out, but I’m already terrified I’m going to get carpal tunnel, I know that will 100% push me over the edge.

I digress.  Focus, on the focus group.  Now, I’ve never participated in a focus group before – at least not a real one.  Telling everyone my opinion regardless of them wanting it can sometimes be considered “rude” or “annoying” (HELPFUL).  These people want to hear what I have to say, and they’re going to PAY me for it.  Effn.  Awesome.

There was one caveat.  We had to actually use the rest room in Penn Station and on the train before going to the group.

If anyone has ridden any train, or been in Penn Station, you know these are two places you do NOT want to go.  Especially not as a woman.  During rush hour.  Does it count if I sneak into Penn at 4am and go then?

My first stop was the restroom at Penn.  Now, I’m a bit of a germ freak, and I have a phobia of public bathrooms.  I hate them.  I hate the floors being sticky, I hate other people hearing me pee, I hate the thought of all the heineys that aren’t mine this toilet bowl has seen, I hate the idea I may or may not have toilet paper in the stall when I’m ready to go.  I mean – there’s a lot more that I can’t stand about public bathrooms, so this is the just the tip of the iceberg.

In any event, I’m not expecting much from this restroom (boy did they deliver!), but I am keeping in mind the fact that the restroom services so many people a day…it truly does have a very hefty job to accomplish.  With an open mind, I wait on the oddly long line for the ladies room (slightly before rush hour… I can only make so much progress in a week, guys).  As I approach the front of the line, I notice an entire wing of the ladies room not being used.  And a bathroom attendant leaning against the wall looking at her phone.  Word, I’ll go back here.

If you think public bathrooms are terrifying, public bathrooms with little light are even more terrifying.  Or better, I guess, because you can’t really see whats going on…so I rush in and out, careful not to touch anything…spraying hand sanitizer in front of me on the way out to block me from any airbornes…and walk directly into a homeless woman (I assume) washing her feet in the sink.

I’m out.  Sorry.

The one on the train…well.  I guess I’ll save that for another day.

passiveagressivenotes.com

There was a website that I’d check in on every so often, www.PassiveAgressiveNotes.com.  It was basically a place that you could email some notes people annoyed with you left on your car (I’ve been parking in this spot for 30 years and would like to keep on parking here, can you move your car next time) on your door at home (while I am sure your dog is cute, the barking is not, please do something to make it stop) or in the office (I know someone is stealing my food from the fridge, but I work hard and I’m hungry too, so please stop).

My office is ALL ABOUT passive aggressive notes.  I was in the lady’s room (and I use that term loosely, the chics in my office are vile pigs that can’t clean up after themselves) and it was riddled with notes. 

For example:

  1. Please make sure you rinse the sink after brushing your teeth, the rest of us don’t want to see the contents of your mouth (on the mirror).
  2. Please make sure you throw out your paper towels in the waste basket.  If you miss, please pick them up.  We don’t want to see your mess (on the paper towel dispenser).
  3. Please make sure to dispose of your toilet paper and seat covers.  Its disgusting.  Keep the Bathroom clean for your coworkers (on the garbage can).
  4. Please Be Considerate of Your Co-workers and Do Not Leave Toilet Paper On the Seat (this one is my personal favorite – eye level, in the stall).

What I find strange is, that last sign is only in one stall.  So that’s clearly the stall the offender and offendee use.  Maybe one can switch?  Or maybe, just maybe, the women in my office can start to act like women and not animals, and clean up after themselves?

I mean, I see the sign leaver’s point, I don’t want to see your toothpaste in the sink (this drives me INSANE at my apartment, if anyone brushes their teeth there, they had better rinse the damn sink out and DO NOT squeeze my toothpaste from the middle.  That is enough to get your a$$ banned from my home), and I don’t want to step over your toilet paper and paper towels and urine.  But that’s commonly known.  Can you imagine what their house looks like if they’re that disgusting in public?

this is a mirror image of seat-pee-ers home bathroom.

I hate public bathrooms.  Whats worse is, it’s clearly someone on our floor because we’re the only occupants of this floor, and the door is locked.  Before, they could just blame it on the other people in the other offices.

Boys are Funky

My house mate is a wonderfully weird man, and we get along quite well, but living with a boy is “different”.

I don’t mean bad – he’s not dirty, he puts his dishes away, doesn’t leave garbage anywhere, and is never here. Except like, Tuesdays. Or once in a while to shower.

But he thinks he lives in a hotel, because he uses my towels. That are hanging to dry in the bathroom. That. I’ve. Used.

And it’s honestly unintentional, which I think, makes it even funnier. But after 3 consecutive days of wayward towels, I asked him what was happening.

“Wait…those are yours?”

It seems as though the house service was putting out somewhat fresh towels for him every day.

Love you house mate!