Archive for December, 2005

Meet my (pseudo) Boyfriend

December 20, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

JB: i am saying dc coast or mie and yu
JB: but let me check the lsit
HeatherB: ok good
HeatherB: well right now we have reservations at dc coast
JB: perfect…because I just looked at dc foodies and it says ladies cannot wear their “jumpsuits’ to 1789, so I know you wouldn’t want to go
JB: you love to wear your jumpsuit out

Because I’m lacking in the significant other department, I often use my friends as pseudo boyfriends. I take them out, get them drunk, and may or may not sleep with them, but that depends on how the evening has gone. JB’s birthday just happens to be during restaurant week and because I’ve never gone anywhere during restaurant week (my palate has only recently matured past McDonald’s, Subway, and Tenley Vodka), I decided that it might be the perfect occasion to go. While JB was totally gung ho about the restaurant week date, it got me thinking that maybe I should get a significant other, to do these types of things with. My friends are always fair game, so it’s not like they are running to get away from me or snap back “get a boyfriend and leave me alone, you perpetually single freak”. And it’s not like I just want someone to go out to DC Coast with me, because if it really was a problem, we all know I’d just go alone. But it’s the fear that this might be how the remainder of my life is. Yes, I am very aware that I am only 22 and so that doesn’t mean that I will be single forever or that I should go purchase my 27 cats now. Instead, it’s been something in the back of mind that is now starting to nag at me. I’m singe. I’ve been single for a very long time. I like spending time with myself, but this is a little ridiculous.
You know, of course I’ll bitch and over think this now, and then tomorrow when one of my friends fights with his or her significant other, I’ll thank the good Lord, that I don’t have to deal with that shit. Yup, that’s what will happen.

Holy Nepotism Batman

December 20, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

I have a friend* who is new(ish) to a particular place where the people that s/he encounters on a regular basis have all known each other for years. While s/he, being the new kid on the block, may not know that many people s/he still makes attempts to be friendly to those around him/her. That said, as of late, my friend has felt the affects of these relationships and has been noticing that despite his/her attempts to make nice with these people, they have been rather futile. These folks have been known to blatantly be rude to my friend and generally not acknowledge his/her presence. So what is a boy/girl to do? S/he has to deal with these people semi-regularly. My suggestion was that s/he, dramatically roll his/her eyes whenever spoken to by these people, because obviously if my friend isn’t good enough to be polite to on a regular basis, then s/he should feel no need to be polite back to these people. Kindness begets kindness people. It’s gotten to a point where right now my friend is on the verge of tears and/or flipping the fuck out on some deserving soul. Which may or may not be a good thing. Personally, I’m all for kicking ass and being a flaming bitch. But that’s just me.

*I swear I’m not lying. A friend.

Liquid Crack vs. Exercise (I vote for Liquid Crack)

December 20, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

“Whenever I feel like exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes. ” ~Robert M. Hutchins, Young Man Looking Backwards, 1938

Normally, I’m not a neat person and my favorite pastime is laying in bed watching movies, but occasionally (and by occasionally I mean every freaking day), I run, golf and walk up and down M street in Georgetown. And let me tell you, there’s nothing that works out the old arms like a bag from Lush, Anthropolgie and Dean and Deluca. Overpriced groceries are heavy. But lately, I’ve turned into a low functioning adult, who cannot move when the alarm clock goes off. Every morning it goes off at 6 am so I can go run, and for the past week I’ve pressed snooze until 6:30 AM then reset my alarm for 7:15. This morning I got up at 8 AM. 8. I have to be at work by 8:30. And despite my occasional bouts of slovenliness, I like to shower. That said, this morning has been difficult to say the least. Even now at 10:20 AM, I am barely functioning. I have my coffee right beside me, but my brain seriously feels like a rock in my head. Doing actual work is unfathomable right now. I haven’t really ‘settled in’ for the morning and I’m already counting the hours until I can curl up in my little day bed nest with the soft flannel Pooh sheets. Yes, Pooh sheets.

Yesterday I complained about my sleepiness to a co worker who replied that when I was running every single day, my body got used to that extra energy and now that I haven’t been running, my body is a little perturbed with me and has subsequently turned sluggish. My body likes exercise. What the fuck? Sometimes I think I’m a 45 year old male who thinks that golf is real exercise (I walk the course, no worries). The last time I really exercised with actual results was when I was on a steady amount of Xenadrine from day to day. I miss that shit. Though, I will say that I did have daily runs in el parque Buen Retiro, but that was solely to counter the effects of tortilla and churros con chocolate. Regardless, I’m going to be forced to run in the cold again. In truth it’s adrenaline pumping and I love a good run around the mall. I suppose that’s a better plan to my original thought that if I went from a daily grande chai eggnog latte to a venti that would obviously negate my sluggishness. Yeah, guess not

Beauty and the Beast

December 19, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

“Beauty isn’t worth thinking about; what’s important is your mind. You don’t want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head.” ~Garrison Keillor

I’m not referring to myself as either; as I have no discernible gorgeous qualities (winning personality does not count) nor am I anywhere near beastly, though some might disagree. But I digress…

My friends, whom I love dearly, have all been blessed with ‘hotness’. I kid you not, these girls (and boys) are all gorgeous. And then there is me. I’m not hoping for a pity party, nor do I want one and really, my friends being better looking than I, is rarely a thought that crosses my mind.

On Friday night, we all ventured out for the evening to a bar in Farragut, where we ended up seeing one of my friend’s cousins. He was out with his frat brothers whom we also met and besides them, there were several other groups of males at the bar. At one point, I was standing there with my friends and one of the frat brothers turned around and bought them all (there were five of us standing there talking) a beer, while neglecting poor little me. I’m wondering if a) I give off an ‘I really can’t stand alcohol, so get that vile stuff away from me’ sort of vibe, b) I am such a wholly unattractive person that the thought of removing his head from his ass and being polite and acting like I am with the other five people that he has met and been talking to, as opposed to ignoring me, because I lack hotness. Of course, I went for the latter. I am not hot and therefore I do not deserve a beer. After which I promptly rolled my eyes at the offender (who let’s be honest wasn’t attractive in the least) and went to the bar, while giving him the best looks of disgust that I could muster. Even the subsequent free kamikaze shot couldn’t make me feel better, I was ruined for the evening thinking that I would never be comparable to my friends. Meanwhile, they continuously get hit on and I dance to “No Diggity” (I know…holy motherfucker) and nurse my wounded ego with $1.50 miller lights.

Now, we won’t get into how the previous pitcher of margaritas, may have clouded my judgment on the frat boy beer incident. Nor how ridiculous this is all sounding in hindsight and that I can’t believe I’m actually writing this for the ‘world’ to see. But alas I am. I spend a good portion of my time around hot people who are constantly fawned over. And while I do get things and know many people in order to get these things (and by ‘things’ I mean free alcohol and free/automatic entry into roped off bars and clubs) I still can’t help but feel inadequate when around the hotter folks. I write this like I’m grotesque and one can’t bear to look at me, which is not true-even if I do say so myself. It’s just that as a female, in this great nation’s capital of ours, I don’t want to continuously be known as ‘the friend’. I can count more than one occasion where a male friend of mine says ‘Heather, when can I meet your hot friends’. And while the male friend usually is just a friend, I still feel a little hurt. Of course these wonderful friends of mine, see nothing wrong with me and think I’m hot and blah blah blah (ok, not hot, but moderately pretty). But despite the sheer ridiculous that you and they may feel about what I am saying, I am allowed to do so. I’m allowed to be hurt when those of the opposite sex obsess about how hot my friends are and I’m allowed to bitch about it, to myself or to the internet or to my friends, because really I just want a little love.
So I guess you can call me a liar, this is a pity party and all are welcome.

BAWF: VII

December 16, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

“Oh, wouldn’t the world seem dull and flat with nothing whatever to grumble at? ” ~W.S. Gilbert

Oh blovers, I’m torn. On the one hand it’s a Friday and that means that some whack bitches need to be called out. On the other hand, I could write solely about my drunk misadventures of last which may or may not include: four vodka cranberries at Pearl, two hot buttered rums at a friends party, losing the back to my phone (I dropped it because I was drunk and Verizon doesn’t like that), crying in the middle of U Street because I waited in the rain for 30 fucking minutes for a cab, breaking my umbrella (because I threw it at a cab), and Ben’s chili bowl. And if say, I were to have three hands, I could write about how I finished my Christmas shopping and that I have amazing parents who have mastered putting up with an array of my shit.

So, what is a girl to do?

Or finally, I could redirect you to This Isn’t Education: The Greatest Hits of HB and you will realize that I do have some incendiary wit up in my head and I can in fact, write an actual sentence that doesn’t mention the word cunt.

I’m at a loss. I won’t tire you with my weekend plans, but they do include, teaching young Noah how to say misanthrope and cabernet sauvignon (I’ll be sure not to use the ‘c’ word in front of the child) and a requisite trip to Drinx and Indebleu.

It’s the holidays friends. Alcohol is in the air and I won’t worry about psoriasis of the liver until January 2nd.