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.

Ah, the commute.

Now, I know that I have a tendency to be a little aggressive at times, sometimes even a little intimidating – but I’m hardly an imposing physical being – just a little well versed at cutting the occasional person down (when needed).

The other day I’m sitting on a train, happily minding my business.  Generally, I will sit against the window in case anyone cares to join me, but today the seat I got into had duct tape all over it – and if someone wanted to sit, well, they could sit on the tape.  I’m not putting runs in my pantyhose for complete strangers. 

The train starts to fill up, and gets a little congested, when a woman comes up behind me – at the same time that a fella is to my front.  They essentially meet in the aisle outside the seat I’m in, and she taps me on the shoulder asking me if she could sit.  I get up, get as close to the man in my face as possible without molesting him, and she wiggles past me to sit down.  As I’m returning to where I was sitting, she looks at me and says “Animal.”

Obviously, she can’t be talking to me, so I look behind me and she says “no.  You.  You’re an animal.  You think you could have moved a bit more so I could sit down.  Now my nice leather skirt is torn”.

I kind of ignore her and she keeps rambling so I turn to her, and very quietly say “I have been commuting for over 7 years.  I don’t need you to tell me how to behave on a train.  You clearly saw I had no room to move, it isn’t my fault that your clothes don’t fit you properly”

I brush my hair back with my fingers, reach into my laptop bag and take out my phone.  She then turns to me and puts an open can of soda on the seat in between us, and with a sneer says “I sure hope this soda doesn’t spill”.  So, I put my phone back into my bag, put my right hand into the zipped pocket in the back (where I usually keep my weapons), and turn to her.

“You wouldn’t be threatening me, would you?  Because that would be a mistake.” I provide one of my “don’t fuck with me or I’ll ruin your day” looks, she picks up her soda can and says “You must be hearing things”.  So I remove my hand from my bag and continue looking at my phone, with a half-smile.  That prompts a “Well I still look better than you”.

We’ve been through this.  I know that I can be a touch on the arrogant side, but I’m not really one to self promote.  In this instance, however, I didn’t have much of a choice.  I had even brushed my hair that morning AND put on makeup, so I know I was rocking it.

“…oh honey.  We both know that’s not true”

After that – the rest of my ride was in silence.

10 Pounds of Sausage?

Well, I like sausage – who doesn’t!  But that’s not what we’re talking about here. 

Yesterday my friend posted her facebook status as “Ladies & Gentlemen if when you put on a shirt & raise your hands over your head the shirt does not cover your stomach You should not be wearing it, least of all to Work.”

Hilarious.  Immediately I thought of those girls that wear the shirts that are too tight around their midsection, and they have that adorable little roll of muffin top spilling out over their jeans.  Or the girls who insist on wearing leggings, even though they’ve stretched out the material SO FAR they’re just about translucent – ten pounds of sausage in a five-pound bag.

Now I realize that we’re not all in perfect shape – I know I’m not – but I do think that some people really need a reality check before they walk out the door in some of these outfits.  You expect it from the People of Walmart, but not in NY

I’m only glad that I have friends, real friends, who will honestly tell me to change if I’m wearing something that makes me look like a beach ball.

Oh – tomorrow there’s a demonstration planned for the city to “shut down the corporations”.  I’m already firing up my stun gun and cannot WAIT for my commute.  Fingers crossed something funny happens!

News Editor says Tattoos are Classless and Worthless

I wasn’t going to re-post this, but I was reading it again and found it a little funny.  Specifically the parts that say women are classless if they have tattoos, but should determine their worth via their physical appearance from the gym, getting their nails done, and high heels.

So, if I counter my tattoos with high heels and muted nail polish, does that reverse the “classless” nature of body art?  What happens if I belch in your ear – does that put me back down to negative points?  And, does it mean my values and morals are in disarray BECAUSE I have tattoos?  What about those cats without tattoos that kill their babies, shoot pharmacists for drugs, whore it up at the local bar – since they do NOT have tattoos, do they have more class then me? 

I suppose so.  Enjoy!

(PS – you’d think this chic would take her own advice and take care of her temple.  And by “take care of” I mean “clear up the acne” and by “temple” I mean “her f*cking forehead”)

It’s always people who don’t have tattoos and that don’t understand the lifestyle who have the strongest opinions. There is nothing wrong with saying that you don’t like tattoos, that’s fine. The problem arises when you cast judgement on people who you don’t know and tell them what they are doing is wrong without having any justification. This article was reposted in it’s entirety from The Spectrum, the independent publication for the University of Buffalo.


Article by Lisa Khoury

I get it. It’s the 21st century. You’re cool, you’re rebellious, you’re cutting edge, you have a point to prove, and you’re a woman. Awesome.

Ladies, I know you’re at least at the legal age of making your own decisions, but before you decide to get a tattoo, allow me to let you in on a little secret. A secret you may have not fully realized yet thus far in your life. What you must understand is, as women, we are – naturally – beautiful creatures.

Seriously, though. Your body literally has the ability to turn heads. Guys drool over us. We hold some serious power in our hands, because – as corny as this sounds – we hold the world’s beauty.

But something girls seem to forget nowadays, or maybe have not been taught, is that women hold the world’s class and elegance in their hands, as well. So what’s more attractive than a girl with a nice body? I’ll tell you what: a girl with class. Looks may not last, but class does. And so do tattoos.

An elegant woman does not vandalize the temple she has been blessed with as her body. She appreciates it. She flaunts it. She’s not happy with it? She goes to the gym. She dresses it up in lavish, fun, trendy clothes, enjoying trips to the mall with her girlfriends. She accentuates her legs with high heels. She gets her nails done. She enjoys the finer things in life, all with the body she was blessed with.

But marking it up with ink? That’s just not necessary.

I’m not here to say a girl should walk around flaunting her body like it’s her job – that’s just degrading. Instead of getting a tattoo, a more productive use of your time would be improving and appreciating the body you have been given, not permanently engraving it.

Can you get meaning out of a tattoo? Arguably. If you want to insert ink into your skin as a symbol for something greater than yourself, then maybe you are proving a point to yourself or the rest of the world.

But at the end of the day, are you really a happier person? Has this tattoo, for instance, caused you to learn something new about yourself? Has it challenged you? Has it led you to self-growth? Nothing comes out of getting a tattoo. You get a tattoo, and that’s it. You do something productive, though, and you see results. That’s a genuine, satisfying change in life. Not ink.

Invest your time, money, and effort into a gym membership, or yoga classes, or new clothes, or experimenting with different hairstyles if you’re craving something new with your body, not a tattoo.

I promise, it will be a much more rewarding experience, and you won’t find yourself in a rut when your future grandkids ask you what’s up with the angel wings on your upper back as you’re in the middle of giving them a life lesson on the importance of values and morals.

God knows the last thing this world needs is another generation of kids questioning their basic values and morals.

Email: lisa.khoury@ubspectrum.com

“Hide The Crazy”

Sometimes I don’t think people realize just how insane they appear to other people.

Example: I’m on the train this morning.  I took a different train than usual, so there was a whole new group of weirdos to observe.  I had to swap trains at the hub to get to my destination, and the rest of the ride was short – 15 minutes or so – I opted to stand in the vestibule.

Across from a woman who was having a full on conversation with herself.  Out loud.  And I could hear her arguing with herself over the sound of my iPod.

I talk to myself ALL the time, and I talk to my animals all the time, the television, my phone, computer, the wall, whatever I think is listening…but I generally do so in private. 

Last night, I’m on the train home – its chock full of drunk jerkoffs coming back from the parade, so I’m keeping to myself, and I see one of my gym buddies, so we start chatting.  Cut to the inebriated old man staring at me, who blurts out “DO I KNOW YOU?” 

I turn from my conversation, look at him, and say “…I don’t think so?” and continue talking to my friend.

Don’t Lie To Me.”

Mind you – I’m chatting with a dude who looks like he can crush cars with his biceps and I’m twirling an open pen knife in between my pointer and thumb finger.  You really want to yell at me, old man?  Cause I will drop you where you stand.

we all have these…

days where it’s in everyone’s best interest to stay the hell away from me.

Yea, I said it.  I’m in a mood today.  And I don’t want you to try and cheer me up – I’m not sad, I’m crabby.  I didn’t stay up late or go out much this weekend, or really any of that.  Quite the contrary, I did a lot of working out, cooking and cleaning (women’s work) so I was quite relaxed this morning.  Until I got on the train and the woman next to me spilt her coffee all over the place.

Really, lady?  You’re pushing 45, you still need a sippy cup?  And are the vulgarities necessary?

As she is cursing, I turn to her, press my finger to my lips and belt out a good ole “SHHHHHHH!”, then wipe whatever coffee that had touched me on her jacket and tried to settle in for my train nap. 

Which, I would have easily been able to get back into, if it weren’t for the two morons sitting behind me.  They each had an open seat in their row, but chose to yell across the aisle at each other, recapping their weekend of booze, broads and, most likely, venereal diseases.

They caught the death look and a “if ya’ll don’t pipe down, someone’s going to jail this morning”.

The rest of my ride was pleasant, but I guess I forgot that people in NY on Monday mornings don’t know how to walk.  I mowed down about four or five people before I even got out of Penn station.

The first man who asks me if “it’s that time of the month” is going to get brained.

grandpa’s getting a goodie this year

 

The other day I had to get a tooth fixed, so on my way back I swung by my Grandpa’s to visit for a while.

After commiserating about the usual stuff, we started chatting and he mentioned he loves tomatoes.  That’s about all that stuck from the conversation (other than I noticed he was writing his Christmas cards out – which is great, my Grandpa always sends out the funniest cards.  Unintentionally, but they’re absolutely hilarious).

On my way home I stopped by the store to pick up some tape and I saw these little tomato savers.  They LOOK like tomatoes, but you take your tomato, and put it in the little holder, and they don’t get bruised or busted and they stay fresher, longer.

Now, I wasn’t going to get gifts for anyone outside my immediately family but this is just too good to pass up.  Grand daughter of the year, right here bitches.

salt mines?

I had my poochie out a little early today and ran into one of my neighbors.

Pooch is a nosey lil bugger, so she stared at him, and I tried to convince her to follow me, but she insisted on stopping and saying “hello” (whilst attempting to take his banana). We talked for a few minutes, she got her scratches in, and he goes “well! Gotta get off to the salt mines!”

Is that a real thing, or is it a saying? I didn’t know there were any salt mines in my ‘hood.

Huh. Too much thinking before coffee. Off to the gym!

Hey Commuters!

I know that there’s always some confusion as to “who has the right of way on the sidewalk”

Let me clear this up for you: Me.

If I’m walking with a cup of hot coffee, opening facing out, its my suggestion that you stay out of my way.  If you get in my way, cut me off, or bump into me on purpose, I WILL spill my coffee on you.

I get a large for a reason.

There’s always mayhem on the corners in Gotham for some reason.  And people don’t flinch, they’ll walk straight without even looking, across a crowd.  I have respect for people like that – I’m one of them – and if you don’t get out of my way, or waffle, I’m taking you down.

Don’t get mad, that’s life in the big City, Kid.  Put your big boy pants on, dust off your bottom, and learn to walk like the rest of us.  Pissed Off.

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.