Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Fabulous Annoyance

Thank you all for your "welcome back" posts and messages! Too cute! Also a call for more posting - here's the problem, kids:

Right now, while I AM, in fact on a complete upswing and life high (and wearing the most BEAUTIFUL silver and black lace skirt about to set off on a holiday party tour, what I want to do is to bitch and moan and rant and rave (via keypad). But I'm trying to restrain myself! I'm trying to stay composed and to keep smiling and pour myself another glass of champaign in the middle of the afternoon (they're office parties) - and take a deep breath and let it go. Because #1, bitter and resentful is ultimately, unattractive. #2 I am anything BUT un-attractive :) and #3. I'm determined to continue the aforementioned upswing and be happy!

With that in mind, I will say the following, potentially unattractive lines with georgous hair, flawless makeup, a beautiful smile and shoes that could literally kill (or at least cause a signifcant amount of pain if strategically hurled in the right direction):
Fuckhead: If you have something to say to me, feel free to say it (my phone number remains unchanged). Is there something you'd like to know about me? To discuss? Subjects to chat about? If so, I'm all ears!

If not, why don't you take the time you spend reading and checking my blog and thumbing through the archives and instead, recycle it into additional quality time with your oh so "beautiful" girlfriend (I'm all about energy conservation these days)!? You took yourself out of my life a year ago, so please do me (and her) a favor and truly TAKE YOURSELF OUT!? But, now that I think about it, follow through was never your strong suit. Merry Christmas!


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Wednesday, December 9, 2009


No – its not some itchy, tropical sexually transmitted disease.
Wikipedia defines “Hogmanay” (pronounced IPA: [?h??m??ne?] as: the Scottish word for the last day of the year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year in the “Scottish manner.” It is, however, normally only the start of a celebration which lasts through the night until the morning of New Year’s Day or, in some cases, 2 January.
In other words – it is the term for the longest, drunkest, craziest, most fun New Years Eve party on the planet….AND I’m GOING TO BE THERE!!!!
[Scarlett does a little dance]
Not to mention that I’ll be surrounded by cute men with accents – swoon! Could there be a better way to ring in the New Year??? I think not!
And so I have decided to drag my Celtic heritage laden ass to Scotland. The land of Braveheart, kilts, Scotch, Sean Connery, Mary Queen of Scots, Gerard Butler!
Jersey and I will be leaving DCA the afternoon of December 29, arriving in Edinburgh on December 30th  (via Detroit, via Amsterdam, not the most direct route, I’ll grant you but…). We'll arrive just in time for the “Night Afore” festival, which is essentially a New Year’s Eve EVE celebration! 
Will, of course post more info soon – just thought I’d share! If anyone else feels like freezing their arses off on the Royal Mile the night of December 31st, please join the fun!

Frankly, I cannot WAIT!
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Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Better Things in Life

It’s been a year. Almost to the day. And Thanksgiving 2008 certainly topped the one-way vacation to Hades I survived the previous year. Everything was better, the family, CERTAINLY the food and most DEFINITELY the company.
However, it’s a definite milestone. No longer am evaluating the events of 2008 through the rose-hued Gucci eye wear of 2007. (i.e. last summer I was living with fuckhead  (sigh…sniffle… sniffle…gag…) .
Now the comparison develops more along the line of:
Last year I wasted my holiday season crying bawling my eyes out on a daily hourly basis over an emotionally stunted Neanderthal, in a job that, at that point, I was less than enthusiastic about while sporting an additional 35 pounds.
THIS holiday season began with a fantastic Thanksgiving in which I cooked a significant portion of the meal (a fun new hobby – GASP! I know, very uncharacteristically Scarlett). I have been invited to three black-tie holiday parties, its December 4th and my Christmas tree is up, my holiday shopping is done AND last night, I attended the lighting of the National Christmas Tree (with kick ass VIP seating).
I like this comparison. I have a feeling the fabulous gap will only continue to widen into the New Year.
It’s good stuff, kids!
Romantic endeavors and drama aside, this is already shaping up to be a fantastic holiday season, and the best I can remember. In honor of this turning point, I've unlocked my "Breakup Files" . I may have inadventently deleted a few....but reading over these very painful entries really helped me to see how much farther I am away from that pain. And it helped a bit. (Deep breath). I truly am at a better place than I've been in just about three years.
And THAT, my friends, is something to celebrate!
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Thursday, December 3, 2009

Merry Christmas to My Ass?

All I need is a great big bow on my if it could get any bigger!

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Friday, November 20, 2009

Pulling the Plug

I’ve been dumped.

After a certain age…say…14...I’m guessing we all have.

Via email, phone call, Post-It or just the failure to respond to communication. These methods are easy, distant, avoidant and thus preferred. Let’s face it, the last time you probably broke up with someone in person was in the 2nd grade cafeteria because they wouldn’t trade their Little Debbie snack cake for your carrots.

But in the end, its all the same thing - Rejection.

The statement either declared or implied is “I just doesn’t want to be with you.“ For whatever reason, in whatever context - it is always a bit of an ego blow. Because, let’s face it: more often than not, it is, in fact, you and ultimately, you’re not what they want.

And it’s fine - or at least it will be 3 glasses in.

After all, it’s the boring ones, the safe ones who never put themselves out there that never get hurt or know how to deal with the rejection, which is, admittedly, a useful life skill.

It’s a life skill and an art form that I, perhaps not so proudly, have mastered. I am the queen of the ’move on’. Being possession of such a cultivated talent you’d think I’d be able apply it more readily. Utilize my experience in a constructive manner. You would be wrong.

Sadly, and with much frustration, I seem unable to initiate a drama free break up. Then again, does such a thing even exist?

Case and point, my break up with Army in July - disaster. In fact, so disastrous that he recently de-friended me on Facebook along with an email containing the explanation that I’m a commitment phobic, heartless bitch and he never wants to hear from me again. Lovely.

On the receiving end, I was seeing LAX, off and on for a little bit…at least he had the decency to write me an email explaining why he hadn’t been in touch. That he’d met someone else and it had “progressed quickly” - my translation, she slept with him on the second date, whereas I had not so much as permitted him to steal second base after date 6ish??

So why am I so bad at the break up? Men seem to have it down to a science. I have no hesitations about not returning a phone call or even escaping out the back door if a blind date makes me wish I were back in that 2nd grade cafeteria purely for the sophisticated conversation.

Rejection after the first or even second date leaves no scars, only minor bruises. But it’s the not calling or not picking up the phone after the third date…or the fifth. When you’ve gotten to know someone just enough to care whether or not you hurt them, even if you can’t see a future with them in it.

Because at that point, the rejection isn’t ‘we have no chemistry’ or ‘I don’t like the wine you ordered’ or whatever other petty reasons we find to dismiss someone within the first 5 minutes. By this point, its more personal, it goes deeper.

So how do you do it? What is the most humane? The adult approach - be straightforward? Leave no doubt? Or are you a fan of the disappearing act? Stop picking up the phone, change your phone number, possibly your address? Hide in your apartment and pretend no one’s home until the big, bad, scary relationship seeking man goes away?

Personally I’m a fan of the fizzle, which lets the relationship die a kind, slow death. The fizzle takes the dying relationship off life support and basically lets it go peacefully, quietly without any drama, fuss or ceremony.

The problem is that this approach doesn’t work so well on the persistent types of men. And frankly sometimes, even when the relationship is diagnosed as terminal, I’m not always ready to pull the plug.
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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Admissions of Guilt

By way of update - I've been sans personal computer for almost 2 months now and, as you might imagine, its a little difficult pouring my heart out onto a work computer which is currently my one and only gateway into the blogosphere but will try. 

Currently trying to dust off, lubricate, de-rustify and re-build what remains of my writing skills....

Frankly, much like my leg muscles and their current lack of familiarity with the elliptical trainer, I'm afraid it may prove to be a painful though ultimately worthwhile process.

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Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Have You Seen Me Lately?

So instead of passwording or shutting down, I thought the most reasonable course of action would be to simply “ask” the Canadian to not read my blog for awhile – easy, right? I didn’t invite him to read the blog in the first place so I thought he’d just respect my request and I could write with a tad less inhibition.

The conversation didn't quite go over as smoothly as planned. BIG Mistake. Huge! 

He was personally hurt and (in his words) “monumentally insulted” that I didn’t mind saying whatever it is I say (which lately amounts to nothing more than bemoaning a relationship long since over) to strangers and the blog reading community et. al. but he wasn’t allowed to read it. I, of course, take a much different view that its nothing personal but that I can’t very well write about HIM and expect it to be anything even resembling honest if I know he’ll read it. 

At any rate, I hurt his feelings and I apologized – a lot of good it did me. 

Blah blah blah, long story short(er) – he’s not reading. At least for now. 

So am I now going to  come up with some huge, personal, revitalization that could only be achieved within the playground of relative anonymity? Obviously not, but one could hope!

Frankly, I think he’s being a bit sensitive but I didn’t intend to hurt his feelings.

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Thursday, September 3, 2009

I Vote: Yes Please!

On a lighter note – the political conventions.

I will refrain from thoughts on the speeches made, views espoused and promises undertaken and leave that genre of commentary to those eminently more qualified than myself (though I’m quite pissed at that whole “can she be the Vice President AND a mother” statement. A comment that should infuriate any women who has ever called herself a feminist – but that’s a topic for another post).

But what NO ONE is talking about – what NO ONE has brought up – what NO ONE has thought to mention…perhaps the most important factor in this election…..right up there with world peace and starving children:

McCain’s sons (Jimmy & Jack) are HOT!! I noticed them during last night’s news coverage. Watch out Prince William & Harry – these boys might just have you beat! And yes, they’re a tad young for moi, however….SO cute! Then again, I seem to be on a “men in uniform” kick as of late. 

So for your information and edification :

Jack is 22 and is attending his fourth (1st Class) year at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. He hopes to become a naval aviator. He was born and raised in Arizona and attended Phoenix Country Day Elementary and Brophy College Preparatory High School. He enjoys amateur car racing and has built his own race car. He competes in Drift racing and recently took his Mom with him in the passenger seat during a race. 

Jim is 20 and a Private First Class in the Marine Corps. He was born in Phoenix, Arizona and attended Christ Lutheran Elementary School and Brophy College Preparatory High School. His lifelong dream was to become a Marine. He is an avid reader and often shares books with his father.

Frankly, these are the IMPORTANT issues, kids - and we should ALL strive to be more informed!
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Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Questions I Don't Want Answered

I’ve been having dreams.

Mostly about Fuckhead.

In my dreams we talk. I’ve been asking him a lot of questions but I always wake up before I can ask him the one question to which I want to know the answer to: Do you miss me?

Last night was the worst of all. In my dream, he was married to the she beast and they had just had a baby. I cried (in my dream) and I cried and I screamed and I screamed. It wasn’t a fun night. That’s absolutely the last time I allow myself to fall asleep without some kind of artificial somnial enhancement to block such dreams from my head – Ambien being my personal drug of choice.

I assure you, this isn't some deep seated unconcsious desire for some kind of cinema-esque reunification. I don’t want him back. I don’t. I promise. I don’t want a pot smoking, un-motivated, emotionally dependent man still attempting to relive his frat boy glory days. 

But I do miss being happy and completely in love – that kind of love that you read about, that you hear about, the kind of stuff that inspires tales such as “The Notebook” – emotions that you never thought possible until experiencing them; that love the brings along with it the possibility of all things and the strength to handle anything life throws into your collective paths.

I had that and it's dissapation has left quite a large hole.

Frankly, it's probably best that I don’t sleep long enough to hear the answer to that one question.
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P.S. I'm thinking about starting to password again - what do you think? I just hate that the more noteable ex's in my life have access to these pages and I find myself holding back more often than I'd like to admit. So what's your opinion? Passoword or start a new blog all together?

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Insert More Uplifting Photo [HERE]

After much deliberation, and because today I feel like it, I have decided to start writing again. The thought of the poorly composed "pity party" scenario as my lingering size 9, designer stilletto clad, recently pedi'd, online footprint as too depressing to fathom. Therefore...

Sheepish wave "hello".
Remember me??

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Wednesday, August 26, 2009

The Good Stuff

I have having thE most Fantabulous hair day I've had since the summer humidity hit in May! It's smoothed straight, slightly curled under, oodles of volume. So i decided to have a fantabulous face to go with it - got out the sandblaster (jk) and Ta-Dum! Perfect makeup, perfect hair, and I'm at my lowest weight since July.

Sigh - life is good my friends. 

Not ONLY is my hair perfection and my makeup flawless, BUT my apartment is clean! Organized, tidy, no dishes in the sink, no books and magazines strewn about the coffee table and couches - whether or not my life is in order, personal exterior and my apartment's interior are projecting that image. 

So that's the good stuff. 

On the flipside, its one day into the DNC Convention and, much like an Olympic Gymnast, I'm exercising amazing control over my upchuck reflex. Though I'm having nightmares of rabid donkeys chasing me and demanding more taxes from my paycheck - very disturbing.

I also cooked dinner on Saturday night using actual food that doesn’t come out of a freezer and kitchen appliances other than my microwave - equally disturbing.


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Sunday, August 23, 2009

Vogue A Flame

It's been awhile since I've done one of these - but it was so good, I just couldn't resist! Enjoy!
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Last Updated: 12:01am BST 06/08/2008

After centuries in the cold, redheads are suddenly a hot commodity, says Hannah Betts
Notice anything curious about the cover of September's Vogue? Beautiful girl, check; Prada frock, tick; enthusiastic lipstick scrawl singing "Glorious!" So far, so Condé Nast. And then comes the realization: Mother of God, the beautiful girl in question has red hair and is thus - according to the savage logic of the playground - a "ginger nut" or a "Duracell". She's a "carrot top".
Flaming heck: Karen Elson is only the seventh redhead to grace the cover of Vogue

Seeing red at redheads has been cited as Britain's last socially acceptable form of bigotry - and not without foundation. Even the ravishing Karen Elson, the beauty who graces the magazine's frontage, was known as "Le Freak" on entering the industry, and "fake model" at school where her peers were incredulous that she could earn money from her appearance.

Statistics from Vogue House confirm that this is only the seventh occasion a woman with russet hair has graced its cover since 1970. Despite the need for Italian Vogue's consciousness-raising all-black issue this July, there have still been more British Vogue covers featuring black women than Titian-haired ones. Yet red-headed people make up between four and 13 per cent of the population - depending upon where one looks in the United Kingdom - while the black population hovers at just under two per cent.

Alexandra Shulman's editor's letter smacks somewhat of justification. She notes that Elson's "pale beauty and flaming hair make her a vivid figurehead for this distinctive season"; surely the fashion equivalent of getting to play a tree in an autumnal school play.

Evolutionary psychology suggests that gingers are shunned because they are a minority - pack mentality dictating that those who are different should be ostracised. Despite red hair being a staple of children's fiction - Anne of Green Gables, Pippi Longstocking, Little Orphan Annie - historically it has been perceived as diabolical. Judas Iscariot, Mary Magdalene and Salome have all been depicted as carrot tops, while the pairing of red hair and green eyes was thought to denote a witch, werewolf, or vampire.

advertisementIt's unsurprising, then, that for every proud flame-thrower - a Tilda Swinton, Julianne Moore, or Gillian Anderson - there is a Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Kidman or Geri Halliwell itching to douse their locks with peroxide.

The Celtic Tudors may have fostered a century-long trend for strawberry blonde tresses. However, our own Prince Harry was picked on for his colouring at school, and has been over-looked in the swoon stakes - despite being considerably better looking than the heir to which he is spare.

That said, he has obviously fared better than the Chapmans, the Newcastle family who found fame in 2007 for being forced to relocate three times in three years because of their colouring - provoking the local council to suggest they take to the (L'Oréal) bottle. Despite a proud legacy that numbers Boudicca, Oliver Cromwell, and Winston Churchill as fellow members, comedian Catherine Tate's sketch in which ginger outcasts are forced to seek solace in a refuge would appear to be not far from the mark.

The red-headed reputation for being hot-tempered and hypersensitive to pain may be because they get such a raw deal. By comparison, blondes - Vogue's preferred colour for its cover girls - are thought to be attractive because they resemble children. Hair darkens as we hit puberty, thus fairness is associated with innocence, the tow-haired vulnerability of youth. And, where there is vulnerability, so there will be those that seek to exploit it, viz Alfred Hitchock's remark: "Blondes make the best victims. They're like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints." If this is the kind of fun that blondes get to have more of, then there are many of us who will be entirely happy chugging along under a cloud of murky, sludgy brown.

For where redheads get to be the victimised minority, and blondes life's attention seekers, so brunettes boast locks that qualify them as normal human beings.
Last week, it was reported that a survey of 3,000 women by colourists Schwarzkopf & Henkel found that, on average, brunettes earn £4,250 more per annum than golden girls. It also found that those with chestnut tresses are 10 per cent more sexually successful than blondes. And they have featured on more Vogue covers than one might expect: the blonde-brunette cover-girl ratio being a mere 60:40 over the last 40 years.

And so to the burning issue: will Elson's immortalisation prompt a rash of imitators? For the truly voguish mane, will red indeed be on fire this season? Certainly, Bottega Veneta, Chloé, Celine, Sisley, Tiffany and Miu Miu's new autumn campaigns all feature flaming heroines. But those tempted may wish to consider further Schwarzkopf & Henkel research. While red is the hue that the majority of colour chameleons initially opt to embrace, the brand also discovered that it is the shade they ditch the fastest, after an average of merely two years. Still, that's a few seasons longer than most fashion trends.

Information appearing on is the copyright of Telegraph Media Group Limited and must not be reproduced in any medium without license. For the full copyright statement see Copyright

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Crazy Subsiding

Army has departed for the land of hurricanes and retirees and apparently, intel officers. 

And if you asked me how I felt about it, well…the less than straight answer you would receive would inevitably  depend on the time of day, day of the week and/or what sappy movie I’d watched recently (last night it was the Notebook – BIG mistake). 

So if I’ve been quiet, it’s mostly to do with that. 

It’s also to do with the fact that I was out EVERY night last week (a recent record for me). Taking advantage of the culinary wonder that IS Restaurant Week in DC, meeting up with friends and playing host to my little cousin en entourage amounting to  4 – 22 yr. old girls in my shoebox of an apartment on Thursday evening. Besides the logistical challenges of sleeping accommodations, it was a relatively easy hosting experience – I took them out for dinner and then pointed them in the direction of the Front Page Thursday Free for All, handed them the keys to the apartment and sent them on their way!

Friday found me home from work just after 5 with plans to meet a friend from high school for HH at 6. I came in, dropped my stuff, climbed into bed for a 20 minute power nap, then hauled my ass out of bed, quickly primped and rallied. 

When I got home around 9, I was LOVING being in my bed, curled up with my cats, a book and the Olympics. (I was out-cold asleep by 9:30). So thank goodness I had the trusty TiVo running and I got to see M. Phelps’ “Fingernail Gold” the next morning.

I have to say though, without a shadow of a doubt, the highlight of last week was drinks on Saturday night with Crazy Bitch at Fado, where the ENTIRE bar was watching the Men’s Medley Relay and M. Phelps’ historic 8th Olympic god. Following the end of the race, the ENTIRE bar sang the national anthem. It was definitely memorable.

That’s all the update I can muster on this Monday morning, kids. 

Hopefully my life will be calming down a bit, but knowing me that prediction isn’t very likely. I will TRY to update more, but I make no promises.

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Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Define "Normal"

I’ve been confused lately. 

Very confused. 

From the whirlwind of work, schedules and happy hours to the swirling of thoughts in my head and emotions in my heart. 

Maybe I’ll be able to think more clearly after he leaves and my life will take on some semblance of normalcy and of “me” again. But between surviving three relationships, two different jobs and one sexual assault in the past two years, how can I even remember what “normal” is anymore?

“Normally”, when a relationship was becoming rocky, or there was an end in sight,  I’d be out scheduling dates and parties with either the trusty standby’s in my little black book. These included generally attractive, fun guys that I have met during my tenure in the District out of which relationships never materialized for one reason or another. However, platonic friendship never Quite developed in their place.

At any rate, these are all excellent candidates for lively dinner, happy hour or movie going companions easing moi back into a the single mentally and solo lifestyle.

But I haven’t so much as perused my phone contacts list in contemplation of an augmentation of my social life. 

So perhaps the definition has changed – or have I?


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Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Pity Party

I wouldn't recommend reading the below. It's whiney and self indulgent. It is the blog equivalent of a horribly constructed grammatical pity party. If I were you, I'd hit the "back" button now.

So what do you do when you're so intellectually unstimulated on a daily basis that you are burgeoning on numbness and the one glimmer of hope on the horizon has turned out to be ....well...falling about a continent short of expectations. Cryptic? My apologies. 

I'm not going to bore you with the details lest you too run the risk of intellectual paralysis, so tedious and uninteresting is the subject matter. Let's just say, I had my heart set on something (some-THING, not some-ONE) and basically, I didn't get what I wanted. 

Go ahead and laugh at the silly little girl who wants to cry at her desk (and actually has for the better part of the morning - don't worry, I'm away from people - no one saw). I know its silly, I know I just need to suck it up and deal - but I was just barely not all out hating life when I woke up this morning and right now - I'm not so sure.

I'm sure this has SOMETHING to do with the fact that I haven't refilled my antidepressants in a timely manner. I'm sure it has SOMETHING to do with the fact that my attitude in general seems to suck, SOMETHING the fact that every person i come into contact with finds some new and exciting way to annoy the crap out of me, SOMETHING with feeling utterly directionless, lacking momentum and focus....UUUGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!

Can I just sit in a room and cry for no specific reason at all? Is that allowed?


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Monday, April 20, 2009

The Cut Off

I’m a lousy blogger, I know I know.

But you’re not going to get much out of me today either. Allergies are making  my life miserable right now. 

I had a date on Friday with a boy (and I’m purposely using the term ‘boy’- 26) who showed up looking like he just rolled out of bed: hair messy (and not in a sexy, controlled mess way – just plain messy), clothes completely rumpled …. Didn’t offer to buy my drinks! 

Is anyone in favor of reserving the right to say five minutes into a date “I’m very sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out” and just leave? That was the course of action suggested to me post mortem by Sue Ellen. If he hadn’t been the little brother of a friend of mine…I would have. This is why I draw the age limit at 28 and even that may be pushed up at some point. Maybe I should just swear off boys in their 20s. What do you think? 

Seriously – all I want to do today is lay in bed and moan. 


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Friday, April 10, 2009

Let's Talk About Sex, Baby!

Yesterday’s Oprah….yeah – that’s a phrase I never thought I’d see myself write…was about sex. Not totally surprising in and of itself.

But it was about how to talk to your teenage daughter about sex and the right age to being talking about it. These conversations, they advised, should not cover just the mechanics but should also “touch on” (pun intended) masturbation and oral sex.

I was fascinated.

A mother talking to her ten-year-old daughter with diagrams of both the female AND male genitalia. 

Showing her the ovaries, etc. all your basic hot spots AND explained what the clitoris is and the fact that many women find it “pleasurable” when touched. Are you KIDDING ME!? I even learned a few new things!
I was in awe. In amazement. Thinking, this lucky little girl. Her mom is explaining in a very clear and matter of fact way that a penis gets hard when aroused…that sometimes men and boys get rejections for no apparent reason. The only anatomy lesson I ever received was in the front seat of Joey B.’s Mustang on a back country road. 

When I feel in love for the first time with Harvard in 1998 and the “world wide web” was still in its infancy – I used it as a resource to figure out where exactly my “clit” was. I didn’t even know I had one! Harvard didn’t know what or where it was either, but he told me that we needed to find it so that I could have an orgasm. At one point I just gave up looking and figured some girls had them and some didn’t! Obviously I ended up figuring out the great clit mystery. Oo la la.

The show encouraged mothers to talk with their daughters about making “smart” sexual choices. About self esteem, respecting their bodies and to have enough confidence in themselves to know when they’re REALLY ready for physical intimacy. To tell the difference between being ready and wanting a boy to like them.

It was an enlightening to say the least. 

I love my mom. She’s great. I can talk to her about anything…now. Only after a tortuous struggle with my guilty sex-laden conscious did I confess that virgin white was no longer my color. In the Wallmart parking lot of all places. Talk about an intimate setting. I was positive, so sure that she would disown me. That she would be so ashamed of my choice to have premarital sex because. And why shouldn’t she? I was ashamed. Because no one had ever told me what was normal and what was OK. 

The truth is…because I didn’t feel OK about it the first time…yes, I was in love…but not ready…and that’s not the same thing. I felt damaged – like I had nothing else to offer the world. Like …I wasn’t worth much after the fact…and I acted accordingly thus perpetuating the vicious cycle.

I’m not blaming my mother’s lack of comfort with this topic for my choices, but I can only imagine what an open, honest conversation with her circa 1996 might have helped me to understand my body and gain some kind of…I don’t know…perspective?

I would have liked her to tell me much more than “When two people love each other and are married and ready to have a baby…the penis goes into the vagina”. Which is about all the information I got. 

I would have liked to hear:

This is what a period is….

This is a diagram of a woman…of a man…this is how this works…blah blah.

But also something along the lines of:
I know you’re feeling a lot of conflicting emotions right now. None of which you want to discuss with me, I’m sure. You’ve grown into a beautiful and attractive woman and I’m sure you’re getting more attention from guys than you used to. That attention can feel liberating, wonderful and a bit overwhelming. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t express your feelings in a physical way when you’re with these boys – while of course I’d like you to stay my little girl forever, this is a very exciting time in your life and I want you to enjoy it. However, I hope that you realize what an incredibly special and beautiful person you are and you should treat yourself that way. Don’t waste your love and/or physical affection on anyone who’s not worth it and no one is worth it who doesn’t respect your decisions to wait. Always hold on to what you feel is right not what someone else wants. It’s scary, and its exciting but it’s also very serious and important. All forms of physical intimacy can be wonderful and are a normal part of life and its OK to experience them but they should never be taken lightly. Always know that you are a wonderful and valuable person and I am here for you if you ever need to talk.

Or…something like that.

Its amazing how some of the choices a girl can make when she’s so young and so…uninformed…and unsure….can linger on even a decade later when there’s no one to give you that talk but yourself.
Because you could wind up a clueless 27 year old still wanting to know the answers.

A little too much information? My apologies.


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Friday, March 20, 2009


I’m a cancer survivor. Did I ever tell you that? Well, now you know and as GI Joe so wisely taught us...knowing is half the battle.

By way of background, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer approximately one month before my 23rd birthday. A 3cm malignant tumor was subsequently removed from my neck taking with it my entire thyroid gland. 6 weeks later, I was admitted to Washington Hospital Center’s nuclear medicine department for intensive radiation therapy for 10 days (I was no shit radio active – in complete isolation and posed was a severe danger to pregnant women and had the ability to killed small dogs). There is no family history and no one knows why this happened. 

Fun times. 

The up side – thyroid cancer is extremely slow growing and very treatable. The down side - unlike most cancers that officially go into remission after 5 years, thyroid cancer can come back at any time – 20 years, 30…it doesn’t matter. Therefore, diligence is key and annual full body scans are prescribed. 

Due to changing Dr.’s a number of times, insurance changes, my busy schedule…basically any excuse I could possibly think of …I haven’t had a scan since….2005. 

I’m overdue. Well overdue. 

Due to the relentless nagging of my parents….I made a call this afternoon to my Endocrinologist requesting she fit me in for a scan sometime soon. 

I’m scared. So scared. Scared of going through the treatment, the tests, the side affects again. Cancer took a two year chunk out of my twenties – I didn’t look or feel right for two years. I don’t know whether I’m strong enough to go through that again – and so I’ve put it off. Stupid. I know. I KNOW its stupid, but that doesn’t make me any more eager to know whether or not there are cancer cells still swimming around inside of me. 

I don’t look sick. I don’t feel sick and I’m not about to have my life disrupted again. That’s a great first date conversation starter – “so, I’d really love to see you again but if you put your dick inside me while I’m radioactive, it will probably fall off.”
I totally forgot how much guys dig a girl in a hospital bed. 

Don’t worry – I’ll go, I’m sure everything will be fine, I’m worrying about nothing, blah blah blah. But that’s exactly what everyone said when my Dr. felt a lump in my neck…and when they did the biopsy…

I’m just so unenthusiastic about hearing the results – good or bad. 

Frankly, just being in the hospital again makes me feel…damaged.

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Thursday, March 19, 2009


Tuesday was tres fabulous, fyi. 

There’s nothing like being a redheaded irish girl on St. Patty’s Day – by the end of the day, I felt like a damn celebrity. Of course it could have been the euphoric effects of the green jell-o shooters, whiskey shots and tons of beer….but I like to think it was because I was receiving an incredible amount of male attention and beaucoup des free drinks. It was a healthy dose of some much needed ego boosting.

Crazy Bitch also got a hearty helping of adoration – go girl!

Canadian is coming to town tomorrow – did I mention that?  For a work conference. For nine days. So it looks as though my rather arid physical streak could be at an end. 

In other news I exchanged drunken txt messages with Tex – which was promising. My potential FWB (aka Rugby) guy is getting dangerously close to being kicked to the curb and I have a date with a NEW GUY on Friday. Also managed to score the oh so elusive second date with the PRIEST. Ok – he’s not a priest – he’s a preacher – a cleric – a man of god (but priest sounds better). 

Get this ok, we all remember Army? Yes? No? Anyways, ok so for the sake of illustration lets just say that Army’s name is “Joe”. He’s a major in the army. He’s in Afghanistan. The Priest’s name is also “Joe”. He’s a major in the army. He’s going to Afghanistan in 2 months. OY! 

Well, with any luck he can bring me…closer to God before he leaves. 

Hell. Straight to. In a Prada purse. Ya – that’s where I’m headed.


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Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Frankly, I'm Loosing My Mind!

(disclosure: this post was written after  consuming a bottle of ‘Royal Bitch’ Merlot)

6 months. 

6 months. 

6 MONTHS – people. Since I’ve had sex. I thought I’d just throw that out there as the frustration has reached new heights. I haven’t gone six months without sex since 1998 – and at that time….I was a virgin!!!!

Sure it was all fun and games after 3 months and I was all caught up in holiday craziness. Thinking about the Virgin Mary and the birth of the baby Jesus were the only things keeping my mind off the lack of sex. Then the whirlwind of January, my London via Texas three week excursion also definitely a diversion. 

Then February – definitely diversions in Feburary – nothing too distracting though leaving more time to think about what I wasn’t getting. 

Now March. I have begun my dating fiesta. I’m currently ‘dating’ (as in gone past a first date) several adorable men. Tex – unfortunately, apparently the fact that I wore down his battery didn’t sit too well. However, we have Rugby, the Pastor (whole new story), LAX and Boss Man (we had drinks. He was all eager to do it again – who knows if he’s feeling the ‘Scarlett Spark’ yet, but I’m hopeful. This one is a marathon, people – not a sprint). 

At any rate, I’ve had a fair number of ‘first kisses’, good first kisses (because, well, the others just get kicked to the curb), and so reminding me what I’m missing. Reminding me how intoxicating a good kiss can be. Making me long for more drawn out kissing sessions…which lead to other sessions. Making me remember how much I’ve missed being physically close to someone. 

I’m not talking about one night stands – the flame burning within me right now is far hotter than even the best anonymous encounter could put out. 

So to recap – I’m frustrated. Oh – and on Top on that – I’ve totally given up sugar for lent. Which means…no chocolate!!! My last hope for any semblance of solace.

This redheaded Irish Girl will be giving homage at the Dubliner starting at noon. See you there!!


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Friday, March 13, 2009

The Silver Line-ing?

The announcement that the brand new 23 mile long ‘silver line’ that metro will construct for the bargain price of $1.63 billion has made DC all a twitter. Personally, it leaves me less than thrilled. 

While the inception of the Silver Line carries with it the ability to schlep my pedestrian ass out to Tyson's Corner – a luxury once reserved for the vehicle owning and/or ride-mooching residents of DC – thus multiplying potential opportunities to ‘stimulate’ the economy exponentially, this is hardly the most efficient use of funds designed to ‘enhance’ the lives of DC residents.

Does anyone else feel deprived on a daily basis that by the fact that they are currently unable to get to Dulles by means other than the super shuttle, taxi, or bus??? Trust me, there are many things that keep me up at night. Greater accessibility to Dulles is NOT one of them. 

Even if Dulles were located in Silver Spring, I would prefer DCA. It’s closer to DC, lines are shorter, security is more efficient for the frequent flyers among us, terminals within walkable distance of each other and accessed without the use of a little space-like pod from the first terminal to the next. If these weren’t enough reasons to make the average DC Metro rider shake their heads at this mammoth and in my estimation COMPLETELY UNESSARY project, the following are:

#10. Homeless Shelters. Invest the money in more homeless shelters to house/care for/rehabilitate the residents of McPherson Square/Dupont Circle/Franklin Park/ 15th St so they’ll stop bugging me every time I walk out of my local Starbucks or the Dupont CVS.

#9. Projects in Progress. Finish what you start. Now I’m no I-95 road warrior, but I do venture out on a Zip Car from time to time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t there several highway construction projects around Alexandria, The Woodrow Wilson Bridge, and various traffic jam issues that should be finished/fixed before creating a brand new mess???

#8. Clean up the Potomac. ‘Nuff Said.

#7. Reduce Tolls/Metro Fare. As I understand it, the poor car drivers that caravan up and down the Dulles toll-road will help in footing this bill through increased tolls. That HARDLY seems fair seeing as how it’s the people with CARS who will NOT be utilizing the Silver Line as they, well….DRIVE places instead of metro. Most car owners love their vehicles – good luck in convincing them that lugging their to-be checked and carried on luggage through the beautiful efficiency that is the DC metro rail system the better way to go to the airport.

#6. Invest in more busses. Every morning, without fail, I wait for the bus. 10, 15, twenty minutes in either the freezing cold or dreadfully humid air (take your pic as DC weather is in one way or another abysmal 85% of the year). Take the money, buy some more busses (of which the majority are now eco friendly), pay some more bus drivers and put some more busses on the road because unless you’re riding the 42 line, chances are you’re waiting a while for a bus).

#5. Fix/keep the tracks already in place in working order. Every single weekend, without fail I, and hundreds of DC residents and tourists flocking to the nation’s capital, are inconvenienced by ‘routine track maintenance’ causing 20, 30 or in some cases 40 minute intervals between trains leading to inevitable overcrowding, pushing, shoving, and all around unhappy people. Especially when these people are waiting on outdoor platforms in the freezing winter air.

#4. Replace Outdated Metro Cars. Continue the process of replacing the metro cars that are still sporting orange carpet circa 1973 with the newer, carpetless and more efficient (in terms of passenger capacity) metro cars.

#3. The National Mall. Take the $1.6 Billion and grow some grass, clean monuments, plant flowers – beautify one of the most historic and recognizable symbols of American democracy, legacy and history. Put in a irrigation system in the summer to keep the grass from being singed like a piece of hair on a curling iron in the summer, keep the reflecting pool..well….reflecting instead of a murky mess.

#2. Metro Stops. There has yet to be a convenient metro stop in Georgetown, Adams Morgan, or a more efficient way to go from Cleveland Park to Columbia Heights without traveling via China Town! Ever thought of making actual DC neighborhoods more metro accessible before making Bumble-Fuck Virginia easier to get to!? Hell, my friends can’t even get me to go out in ARLINGTON, let alone travel to Reston!

And the #1 way to better spend $1.63 Billion than a metro line to Dulles Airport....(drum roll please.....)

#1. Law Enforcement. While the DC crime rate has dropped like a stone since its peak in the mid 90s, violent crime was reported to be more than three time the national average of 466.9 reported offenses per 100,000 people in 2007. Spend the $1.63 billion on more police officers, their salaries and benefits. Not being killed/raped/assaulted is of FAR greater value to me than riding the metro out to Dulles.
Could someone please point out the silver line-ing to this monstrous project? If you disagree, I’d LOVE to hear why.


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Thursday, March 5, 2009

Black Chery and Hot

Well the ceiling situation hasn’t been completely resolved and I’m still sleeping in the middle of my living room but that’s neither here nor there.

I had a little home beauty budget disaster on Tuesday night. In preparation for spring and the two (count them) TWO dates I have this weekend, I decided to give myself some much needed highlights. Its been over a decade since I purchased one of these little chem. labs in a box – and I remembered why. What happens when you try to lighten red hair?? It TURNS ORANGE!!!

So I just spend $300 to get the color stripped and then re-deposited into my hair. But the color that was re-deposited…is NOT my color red. It’s DARK. Like black cherry dark! It’s crazy! I have DARK hair. Every 3 minutes I’m debating between thinking ‘I look like a bad ass bitch with dark hair!’ and wanting to use non color friendly shampoo then lather, rinse and repeat like its my job.

We’ll see. I need to seek some outside opinions on the matter.
I look like a bad as bitch with dark hair!!


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Friday, February 27, 2009

Fat, Fat Tuesday

“I’m fat,” said Big Man on Campus (ex college boyfriend, still very good friend). “I’m loosing my girlish figure.”

“So am I,” I replied. “I’ve been working out like a fiend, cardio, weights, yoga but it does nothing to curb my daily cupcake/cookie craving at 3:00 p.m.”

“I’m lazy. I haven’t been working out, I haven’t been eating well, I’ve been drinking a lot. It’s the tri-fecta of lazy and fat.”

“Wow. Yep – that’d do it. Well, if it helps, I still love you!”

“I feel unattractive with my shirt off. Could you please pass the tater tots?”

"I'm not quite to that point yet. I still feel attractive with my shirt off. Mostly because my boobs are fabulous and I wear sexy lingerie."

(Waitress walks by) “Ya’ll doing ok?”

“I’ll take another Miller Lite draft and he’ll have another rum & coke”

“And an order of the Spinach Dip”
(Waitress walks away)

“I hate men”

“What's the reason this week?”

“Well – I had an AMAZING date with Irish Guy on Friday. At first, I thought ‘oh no! I’m being too much myself – being a little too honest, sarcastic, etc.’ but then he gave me the most amazing kiss ever!! Truth be told, we made out for a good 30 minutes – unbelievable! So I took that as a good sign.”

“Making out with someone for 30 minutes is never a BAD sign”

“I mean, you wouldn’t make out for 30 minutes with someone you weren’t attracted to, right?”

“Depends on how drunk I was”

(Scarlett starts counting the number of drinks ordered in her head…)

“I’m just kidding! I’m sure he was attracted to you. So what’s the problem?”

“Well, I didn’t hear from him all weekend and then I get a little email on Monday saying ‘how was the rest of your weekend? I went to an Oscar party last night but left early because I didn’t want to be a vegetable today’ so I replied, ‘A vegetable? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?’ (ha. ha. cute, no?) and then I gave him a few sentences about my weekend, commented on the cold weather – asked him what he was up to this week and…NOTHING. No reply email. No “I had a great time and would love to see you again.” NOTHING. WTF?"

“Well, give him one more day to respond and if nothing, fuck him”

“It’s still frustrating.”

“I’m interested in a girl.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“She’s married”

That spawned a whole different conversation. As we walked out BMOC, grabs a few Mardi Gras beads that decorated the bar Tuesday evening and placed them over my head.

"You have to show me your boobs now."

"You've alerady seen my boobs."

"True. Well then consider those beads payment for services rendered."

"So noted."


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