Men are from Mars, women are screwed or "I like to think they died"

Most of us girls have dated (or at least been on a date with) your typical archetypal guys. The momma's boy, the douchebag (aka the Popped Collar guy), the one track mind guy: these are men who, while bountiful, are easily identifiable and mostly avoidable. But there are always the subtly obnoxious men whose signs are not as telltale. I would like to now share whatever small amount of wisdom I have on this subject, in hopes that my follies will serve as parables for others.

The "I'm not in a place" guy: Sorry ladies, but, as most of us know, this is code for "I'm not into you." I'm starting out with what I believe is an easy one, but unfortunately all too many women still buy into this line. I am a firm believer that there is no "time" or "place." If you like someone enough, you'll go for it. If you don't, well, you move on. Sure, it feels better to think that the "I'm not in a place" guy isn't out trolling for women the weekend after this speech, but we all know that this is not true. The only person who has ever changed the "I'm not in a place guy" is my friend Heather, but don't let this give you false hope that this can be achieved by mere mortals. Heather is just that good.
Warning signs: You met at a bar. On the Upper East side.

The "We want different things" guy: The funny thing about this guy is that he never actually asked you what you wanted. He assumed that you were desperately in love with him after the first date because he's just that amazing. He also thinks that "casually dating" means texting you every 2-6 weeks. He's closely related to "I'm not in a place" guy, but he's self-absorbed enough to blame it on you.
Warning signs: You only hear from him on weekends. After 4am.

The "I'll actively pursue you until you are actually interested" guy: This guy is, and always has been, all about the game. The more you pull away, the more persistent he becomes. He wants to prove that he can have anything he wants, but he doesn't actually want you. The second you give in, you'll never hear from him again. This guy might be the least annoying though, because you never really like him and he's pretty easy to get rid of by feigning interest.
Warning signs: He's overly eager. You have absolutely nothing in common and yet he still will not leave you alone.

The "Great first date/no call back" guy: By far the most frustrating. Oh, sure, when this issue was broached on Sex and the City when I was an ignorant college student I thought, "This doesn't happen. WHY would this happen?" And yet I now find myself a fan of the Miranda justification: "I like to think they died." This one is tough because it makes you reevaluate your entire value system -- DID we really have a good time? at what point did I mess this up? is my phone not working (but only from his number, because mom seems to be getting through quite often)? etc, etc, etc. I think the only way to feel better about this one is that you are not alone (unless I am the only person that this has actually happened to). Also, take solace in the fact that this guy is a d-bag.
Warning signs: The date goes TOO well. Sorry to be cynical, if something is too good to be true, it almost always is. Most good relationships do not begin smoothly -- they only endure after a war of attrition.

The "Crazy Vampire" guy: Maybe this isn't a generalization so much as a very specific case, but it's being added, because, well, that dude freaking bit me!
Warning signs: Within five minutes, he asks what kind of monster you would like to be. He also drinks paint thinner-esque Jack and Cokes like water and has a taste for human flesh. Which he indulges while you are soberly throwing him into a taxi cab.

Some New York Yankees in King Ripken (Jr's) Court

I am thoroughly shocked as to how many Yankees' fans there are in Baltimore. I expected to arrive at Camden Yards last night and be heckled for the defiant donning of my trusty Yankees cap (that matched perfectly with our "Dani's Bachelorette Party" shirts, may I add), and yet almost everyone in our section seemed to be wearing not only the identical cap, but a Jeter/Rodriguez/Posada, etc. uniform as well. Having not been to Camden Yards since early September 2001 (when both the Orioles and this country were entirely different), I was not used to this post-Ripken Baltimore. Whatever. The Yankees won and we made some hilariously guido-esque new friends.

After that, we had quite a lovely bachelorette party and I managed to get in an argument about football with only one Ravens fan. He asked for it -- it isn't even football season yet and he was wearing a Ravens hat and polo at a bar. Honestly, the only place you can get away with that is in Pittsburgh. With Steelers gear of course.

One of my favorite lines came at the very end of the night, when a guy I had ran into in the lobby of our hotel got down on his knees to beg Dani (in a thick West Virginian accent) to bring the party to the hotel bar. As we briskly walked away, she asked where I found these people, to which I replied, "I'm from New York. I attract the freaks." Ever sweetly, Dani replied, "No honey, you are from Western Pa. You attract the hicks."

Did Steve tell you that?

More elaborate posts to come after the weekend, but I just wanted to share this little gem.




Ain't no party like my nana's teaparty. Word.

Slices of Americana, or "Where culture's defined by the ones least refined"

Coming from a small town, I have grown up with tiny amusement parks and town fairs that provide a day's worth of family friendly, good old fashioned fun. However, it wasn't until I was a bit older that I realized that these parks also provide, hands down, some of the greatest people watching outlets of all time.

My first glimpse of this was when I, as a college sophomore, brought my then-boyfriend to my own little piece of Americana -- the Butler Fair. The Butler Fair is everything you would hope it would be and more: death defying rides (no, seriously. you can hear and watch the bolts falling out), country music concerts, tractor pulls, and, of course, livestock. Lots of livestock. All of this seems harmless enough, but looking back, I should have known what that poor Connecticut boy WASN'T ready for -- Butler's populace. I'm not making any judgment calls, but I guess I never thought that someone from the northeast wouldn't be prepared to see a young girl, no older than 16, about 7-8 months pregnant, wearing a baby-doll tee stating that "I make good boys go bad." More power to ya, sweetie, but you are terrifying my boyfriend. Needless to say, he and I didn't last.

Which brings us to this weekend at Waldameer Park in Erie, PA. I was out visiting one of my closest friends from high school, his wife and children, and various other family members. We enjoyed the rides, outdoor grilling area and carnie games, but mostly (and I must stress this point) the amazing display of colorful characters surrounding us.

First there was middle-aged-possibly-drunk-tone-deaf karaoke guy. In the middle of the day, at a children's amusement park, swaying and rocking out to "New York, New York." "If I can (bum bum) make it there, I'll make it anywhere?" Even if we take the lyrics loosely, you are still about 10 miles from the New York (state) border. And you aren't even making it here.

Then came the most inexplicable player in this little game -- This guy (whose face has been blurred). Special thanks to Laura for posing to make it look like I was taking a picture of her!

Look closely kids, because this dude, for no reason whatsoever, has a small child's pink bikini stuffed down his shirt. Seriously. At least he was with a little girl, presumably his own, making this one million percent less creepy than it could have been.


And finally, the creme de la cream, the piece de la resistance of Waldameer Park, was a woman who could actually take parenting lessons from Britney Spears. After noticing that her infant child was chewing on her empty pack of Parlament Lights, she took the box, tore off the top, and gave the box back to the child. Just in case it wasn't easy enough for little KFed, Jr. to get at those extra tobacco shavings and remnants of nicotine inside.

They Panic! They Panic!

Because our apartment remains intent to give us some sort communicable disease (I'm thinking of starting a blog that exclusively discusses hypochondria), my roommate Hailey and I are now not-so-patiently waiting for the Emergency 24 hour plumber. Hailey is currently singing a song about Leprosy. It's going to be a long night. Especially since our super has decided to tell our landlord that we were overreacting (panic!!!) as water gushed out of our sink and through our walls into our rooms. Needless to say, I'm not in the world's best mood.

But speaking of the world's best (worst transition ever), I'm entertaining myself by watching the late-night Olympics (yeah for 12 hour delays!). The more I watch this spectacle from Beijing, I have to wonder when the Olympics lost so much of its luster. Maybe it's because the evaporating water from my floor is devouring my brain with flesh-eating disease, but there is just something...missing this year.

Some highlights:

1. Records don't mean anything. I remember when breaking a world or Olympic record was cause for amazement. Now if Michael Phelps DOESN'T break a world record he's considered a failure.

2. There is no longer perfection. I still get chills when I watch Nadia's first perfect 10. Somehow Nastia Luikin's 16.9 just doesn't compare.

3. Questionable morals. This is the one that blows my mind. China has done NOTHING to make themselves look better on the world stage during these Olympics. In fact, in the first week of competition they have proven that a 7 year old can be "not cute enough" to perform at the opening ceremonies, but that same 7 year old is certainly old enough to win a gold medal in women's gymnastics. And as long as I'm pushing unsubstantiated rumors, I'm pretty sure that they shortened the pool and greased the men's still rings as well.* Seriously though, did we honestly think that holding the Olympics in a country with such questionable ideas about human rights would give them a reason to change their ways? Can we next look forward to Khartoum 2020?

Now I'm ranting and I still don't have a plumber. And, by the way, I now definitely have cholera.


*Libel! Libel!

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And eat men like air

Ok, so Sylvia Plath is a little melodramatic...especially because I'm not even sure what it is to "eat men like air." But, hey, I have red hair now.

Thanks to the many suggestions of my friends (and the short-hair blessing of the bride), I chopped and dyed my hair last week. Dani's suggestion came the closest to what I eventually got, and despite everyone's persistence that angles were the in thing, my stylist assured me that they were soooo last season.

I've always loved before/after pictures, especially since the "before" picture is always the most unflattering photo imaginable. So here is my rendition:

Before







After







After (w/bangs)







I'm a big fan of the new 'do, and, more importantly, have realized that this is a perfect way to use my friends for fashion suggestions. So here is my next dilemma: I need to find a cute pair of gold shoes for an upcoming wedding. The problem is, when I type "Gold Shoes" into google, I mostly get images of shoes best suited with whips. Suggestions on cute, non-cheap looking gold shoes anyone? And with my bad ankles, do I have to wear pumps or are there classy, wedding-friendly wedges?

We commandeered the sofa. It's a nautical term.

If New York has taught me anything, it is the importance and beauty of dumpster diving. If you have never lived within the boundaries of the 5 boroughs, it's almost impossible to believe what amazing stuff people will leave on the side of the road.

Last night I returned to my apartment, slightly inebriated, to my roommate proclaiming that there were two huge, perfectly good loveseats gracing the sidewalk on [address deleted due to maternal intervention]. The only thing that made sense at that moment was to go retrieve at least one of them.

Sure, it took 45 minutes for the two of us to carry one piece of furniture 4 blocks. Sure, several people stopped to stare, comment, and pretend to offer help. Sure, we probably now have some unknown infestation. But I completely sobered up in those 45 minutes, and this was still the best idea of all time. After a heavy dose of Lysol, this sofa of serendipity melded with its surroundings as if it could never belong anywhere else. What else would be worthy of living in the shadow of the Hoff?

Triangle Man hates Person Man

Gigantic Nerd Points if you can tell me where the title of this post comes from -- without googling it.

Now, I normally avoid haircuts like the plague (cholera?) but the recent humidity coupled with the several months since my last cut have created a monster that looks approximately like this:

So, in short, I need a new haircut. And, because I am painfully out of touch with current hair trends, I need someone to tell me what is stylish/appropriate. If you have any great ideas or just want to see what a crazy hairstyle looks like on a real person (what the hell---I'm adventurous) PLEASE let me know!

Some issues to keep in mind:

*My hair is thick, long and wavy. Hense the humidity/triangle look.
*I play sports and my friends have this lovely habit of asking me to be in their weddings, so I can't go too short.

*I like bangs, but I haven't had them since circa 1992:

And I'm not sure if anything in that photo bears repeating.

So please send along any thoughts and ideas -- If I pick one, I'll post it with a picture of my new 'do. The winner will receive a lifetime supply of my love and admiration.

I'm six foot four, an all-American guy, and handsome and talented as well!

As I anxiously await my pictures from this weekend (including those from the burlesque/magic/freak show I went to in DC on Saturday night), the pictures of The Best Thing Ever will have to do. So here it is, the newest addition to my living room:













Yes. That just happened.