theworldofdale

Archive for the ‘Entertainment and Nightlife’ Category

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don’t hand me no lines

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Home, Relationships on May 17, 2011 at 9:59 pm

Did you know that some people marry people they aren’t in love with? Did you also know that I’m overcoming the visceral reaction to rearrange that sentence so that’s is too awkward to read but does not end in a preposition? Let’s move on. Damn it!

I’m in my early 30s, which is when folks begin to nest. They start settling. There isn’t so much a biological clock as there is a dearth of single, childless friends to carouse with on weekends. You look around and start realizing that the make-out party is becoming less party and more make-out and you’re running out of suitable partners.

While I don’t think everyone is going to meet their soulmate, I take the oath of marriage pretty seriously. I take it so seriously that I haven’t taken it. People stay in relationships with someone they don’t love, sometimes even going so far as to marry them. They might divorce, or they might stay unhappy forever. There might be affairs. There might be children.

Men always think I like them more than I do. They think each crush is love. They think they hold my heart in their hands and it’s up to them to care for it. You don’t do me favors by faking feelings. You don’t do me favors by being half-invested. You don’t do me favors by putting off breaking up.

Often, people are afraid to end things because they don’t want the other person to get hurt. Honey, the hurting is inevitable. And in the meantime, you’re stealing from them. You’re stealing time and energy and love that they could be sharing with someone who reciprocates. You’re stealing their ability to trust again, and their self-confidence.

I never get worked up when someone doesn’t like me “like I like them.” First, I hardly know you yet. Second, there’s been unrequited love in both directions in my past. Sure, it sucks – both ways (that’s what she said). But I haven’t had much stolen and I haven’t stolen much.

Which is pretty good for 32.

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charlie sheen is not cool

In Entertainment and Nightlife, Health and Wellness, Home, News and Politics, Science, Work on March 4, 2011 at 3:35 pm

As much as I hate to be one of the billion people talking about Charlie Sheen when there are far more important matters in the world (Libya, unions, Bockfest), I feel like mine might be a minority (or solitary) opinion.

Charlie Sheen is not cool.

He’s not funny. He’s not winning. He’s definitely not inspiring. He’s sick.

Whether his brain was fried before the drugs is up for debate. What isn’t up for debate is that this is a grown man with 5 children. What would be mildly entertaining if he were a 22-year-old guy drunk at a party is a serious problem when it’s a 45-year-old man with responsibilities he is ignoring. As quotable as he has been in the past few weeks, he has 4 children under the age of 10. His youngest two children are with a woman who has plenty of her problems of her own. I don’t think any of us suspected that Denise Richards would come out of this family looking like the smart one.

Charlie Sheen is tragic. The likelihood of this ending happily ever after is slim. The United States is cheering the destruction of a human being, while ignoring the thousands who are losing their livelihoods and their lives.

I hate to be such a Debbie Downer, trust me. I prefer to keep this and my Twitter account as light and as bummer-free as possible. But the admiration people are showing for Charlie Sheen is distressing. Mental illness isn’t cool. Drug abuse isn’t cool. Having a harem isn’t cool (no, really. It’s not).

Charlie Sheen is not cool.

And he’s definitely not winning.

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damn girl

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Health and Wellness, Relationships on January 25, 2011 at 9:25 pm

Many moons ago, my cell phone ring tone was “Damn Girl” by Justin Timberlake (featuring Will.I.Am, but who cares). Every time someone called me, Justin would croon, “Dammmmmn, girl, you’re so fine!” Corny? For sure. But I loved it- a consistent reminder that I am hot shit.

Related to the last post, part of the whole knowing my body thing has another positive side effect: I think I’m hot shit. I’m cute and all. I’m not skinny; I’m not fat. I’m not ugly; I wouldn’t say I’m classically beautiful either. I’ve been told I have a great smile and a nice ass (both true) and I like my eyes and wrists (weird but still true). And I have tits to die for, but don’t we all?

But I respect my body. It’s doing a pretty decent job for me (especially given how I treat it). I respect it when I have PMS, and my body is punishing me for not using it for its intended purpose. I really respect it when I’m ovulating and am beyond convinced that I’m the sexiest woman in the world (and my body is giving me a second chance at fulfilling its goal).

That’s not all, though. I surround myself with people who reinforce a positive impression of me. My first encounter with this was in 1997. In high school, I was a nerdy girl with huge eyebrows. But senior year, my mom had plucked them, and I turned 18 and met boys at dance clubs who didn’t know that I was a nerdy girl with huge eyebrows. In college, I joined a sorority, and all of a sudden, I had all sorts of guys who wanted to know this cute girl with the big boobs and the well-shaped brows.

I have female friends who are sources of constant support. Who, on my occasional down day, will remind me that George Clooney would throw his vow of celibacy (the marriage kind) out of the window for the likes of me. Sometimes, when they have a bit too much to drink, they will dry-hump me on the dance floor, and I’ll feel irresistible.

It’s been more than a decade since my first fraternity party, and medicine and age have taken their toll on my metabolism. Gravity does not love boobs as much as everyone else does. I still have pretty awesome eyebrows, but I realized something important along the way. Chris Rock put it best: show me the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’ll show you a dude who is sick of fucking her. In the same way, every woman in the world has got someone who wants to fuck her. I have beautiful, smart, smoking-hot friends who find imaginary flaws in their body that they think will turn a man off once they get into bed. And I tell them: the only thing that will get a man to kick you out of bed is having a penis. And that won’t even stop all of them.

Confidence really is the #1 ingredient in sex appeal. There are men who don’t want to get this, and that’s fine. I’m not trying to get a man who doesn’t want this. There are plenty of smart, funny, grade-A hotness men who would love nothing more than to get all conjugal with me. I don’t concern myself with the men who don’t. Just as I don’t find all men attractive, I don’t expect all of them to find me attractive.

But maybe they should get their eyes checked just in case.

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i’m just a girl

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Home, Relationships, Sports on January 1, 2011 at 1:18 pm

I am not a girly girl.  There are some aspects to my personality that are decidedly feminine.  I love makeup and fashion.  I watch HGTV all the time.  I still get giggly and play with my hair when I’m flirting with some dude.

But then, I’m a sports fanatic.  I know more about baseball than most men – not just trivia but strategy.  I was 4th overall in points in my fantasy football league this season.  One of the top 3 moments in my life is being on the 18th green when Tiger Woods came back to win the Memorial Tournament in Dublin, Ohio.  My dream job is General Manager of a baseball or football team.  (Mike Brown, did you hear that?). 

I hate chick flicks.  I would rather poke myself in the eye for 90 minutes than watch The Notebook.  If I can sit still long enough to watch a movie, it better have sophomoric humor, car chases, and/or guns.  Pineapple Express, thy name is Trifecta of Awesome. 

I have zero desire to get in touch with my feelings.  In fact, the further I can push them to the back of my brain, the better.  I’m a commitment-phobe to what is probably a disturbing degree.  I have had essentially one boyfriend, and it lasted about 4 months, tops.  My only long-term relationship has been with Verizon Wireless (12 years, going strong!).  While I expect to eventually get married, I imagine it will be more of a “hey, let’s get married.”  “Okay, is the courthouse open?”  And, we’re married.  And maybe I’ll tell people at some point.  But I don’t want a diamond and I don’t want a dress.  A honeymoon would be nice, though.  And I ain’t gonna tell you about that, either.

It’s not easy being such a dude of a girl.  For some reason, guys are not always excited about girls who win arguments about sports.  Girls don’t trust me – I guess they see me as enemy territory.  Like I will lure away their men with my arguments for changing NCAA football to a playoff system.  I don’t dislike girly girls.  I just don’t get them.  I don’t get being mad at a guy who doesn’t like me.  I don’t get caring what someone says about my body.  I don’t get wanting to watch a movie knowing it will make me cry for 6 hours.  I don’t get how a vampire and a brat makes for a fairy tale.  I don’t get giving a shit over Valentine’s Day.

But still.  I enjoy being a girl.

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a real lifetime movie

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Relationships on December 21, 2010 at 11:21 am

I’m not much of a movie person.  I realize that this puts me in the minority, but I’m just far too restless.  I also don’t like getting all worked up and emotional about people who don’t actually exist.  Worrying about whether Jennifer Aniston and her mildly gay co-star will be able to work it out just seems really silly.  I don’t even care if Jennifer Aniston and her real-life mildly gay boyfriends work it out.
 
I do love to watch human interaction though.  I just prefer the real-life variety.  Instead of going to watch a movie, I’ll go to a crowded bar and sit in a corner and observe.  Watching real people do the dance of interpersonal attraction is infinitely more interesting than watching actors do it.  The power dynamics, the intimacy transactions, and what happens at the end of the night?  Now that’s cinema.
 
I have an MA in Communication, and even though I no longer am an active Communication scholar, I still do studies all the time.  If being able to tell how people feel about each other ever becomes a marketable skill, I’m going to be a very successful woman. I know when someone loves someone.  I know when someone wants to have sex with someone.  I know when someone is repulsed.  There are stories all around us.  Why pay $10 to watch one on a screen?

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don’t hate the player; hate the game

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Relationships, Technology on December 2, 2010 at 12:06 am

Men get a lot of flack for treating women like objects.  Which they do.  But women treat men like objects too.  Just not a sexual object.  Honestly, we have to keep our minds OFF of you if we want to have sex.  You’re a hairy ape, okay?  But I digress.

Women treat men more like game pieces.  To women, every man is just a game of Jenga, where we push and pull and see what comes loose until you’re completely destroyed.

Louis CK first brought this to my attention where he pointed out that men are always destroying things.  Whether it’s a toddler knocking over someone’s Legos or grown men at war, men think anything less than annihilation is acceptable.

Women, while still set on creating havoc, have a different method and target.  Women, and I am including myself in this statement, crush men’s souls by nature.  As prone as a man is to spread his seed amongst the womenfolk, women are set to trap one of those men and make him ours.  We have to make you fall in love with us on the off chance we need protection.  You are our bodyguards, and we are Britney Spears.  You are the Secret Service, and we are the president.  Woman = baby-maker, man = guard dog.  It’s elemental, but I don’t think men or women realize it.

I don’t think it’s out of malice that women are destroying men’s souls.  Just like men aren’t thinking of women as sexual objects not because they don’t have respect for them, but because sex is their favorite thing.  Women need to be loved, and if you can’t do it on your own, we’ll help you.

I’m not saying women are bad for destroying souls or men are bad for wanting to fuck everything.  But I don’t get so worked up about relationships when I remind myself of this fact.

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thanks

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Home, Relationships, Work on November 24, 2010 at 7:38 pm

It’s Thanksgiving eve, and instead of celebrating the biggest party night of the year, I’m going to stay home and watch Chappelle’s Show.  I have a lot to be thankful for this year.  Let’s do a rundown.

I have health insurance.  I have already been to four doctors, and there are more lined up.

I have the most amazing friends in the world.  I am in awe of how truly smart, funny, kind, and beautiful the people are who let me hang around them.  I have a best friend who is like a sister to me.  I have friends who have helped me move multiple times in the past 10 years.  I have friends across the entire spectrum of age, beliefs, and backgrounds.  Different colors, different genders, different orientations, but they all manage to put up with me.

I have a dog.  She teaches me patience as well as being so cute it makes me kind of wince.

My parents are people that I would feel lucky to know, much less be their child.  I have more fun hanging out with them than just about anyone.  If you wonder where my confidence comes from, it’s from having parents who love me unconditionally and have never let me believe there was anything I couldn’t do.

Most of all, I’m thankful for faith.  I’m not going to get into a lot of religious stuff here, because my beliefs are mine and not your concern and vice versa.  But I’m really glad that I have faith, because that’s where the peace is.  Shit hits the fan on a regular basis.  My life has plenty of downers, trust me.  I could throw myself a little pity party and actually get people to show up out of sympathy.  There’s no sense in that, though.  I’d rather throw a birthday party and get people to show up out of desire for slap bracelets.

One of my credos is a morbid little ditty I saw at a deli in my neighborhood.  It said, “I don’t know how it will all turn out.  All I know is: I’ll end up dead in the end.  So what could go wrong?”  It’s just another way of saying life is short.  Like Oscar Wilde said, life is too important to be taken seriously.

Every day is my thanksgiving, because I would rather be grateful than complain.

I promise to bring back my asshole ways in the next post.

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safe dating

In Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Relationships on November 15, 2010 at 8:28 pm

I don’t go on a lot of dates.  Mostly because they tend to make me nauseated for at least 12 hours prior, but also because I resist structure.  Rules, authority, social norms… they all make me queasy.  I avoid attending ceremonies- funerals and weddings, church, even networking events have too much structure for me.  I need freedom.  FREEDOM!

But I went on a date.  It was fine.  It was fun, but I think we’re both feeling more of a friend vibe.  When he picked me up, I knew only his first name, his phone number, and that he owned turquoise pants.  Before I left, I emailed two friends and gave them his number. I told him immediately that I had done so, and he said what?  Do you think I’m going to kill you?  I said, no.  If I did, I wouldn’t have said yes to a date. On the other hand, I don’t want to end up in a Glamour article as the dead friend who should have known better.

I made it home from the date, completely unraped and unmurdered.  I’m not getting married, but it was fun times (after the nausea subsided) and it made me feel like a grownup.  Some parts were good (a sandwich from Melt), some parts were not as good (him driving away before I was inside).  Overall, I felt it was pretty successful, as my commitment-phobia usually extends to spending 2 hours with someone.

Give me another couple years, and I’ll feel safe enough to go on a second date.

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a different kind of beer goggles

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Relationships on November 7, 2010 at 5:53 pm

Everyone is familiar with beer goggles (if not personally, at least conceptually).  Something about alcohol lowers our standards, our expectations, and sometimes our pants.  There is plenty of analysis on beer goggles out there (not to mention an Android app and Gmail setting to prevent booty calls/texts/emails).

It is time to bring to light an equally distressing result of alcohol’s side effects.  No, not liver cancer.  I’m talking about drunken friend-making.

Some people are mean drunks.  Some are sad drunks.  Some of us, however, are happy drunks.  While my drunkenness is rare, I do fall squarely into the happy drunk mold.  I love everyone.  I think everyone I meet is the most awesome person to walk the planet (I kind of feel like this sober too, but I digress).  I want to be best friends with everyone.

The next morning I have 7 new phone numbers in my cell phone but only a faint recollection of who they belong to (it’s even more difficult to distinguish them from each other).  I realize I’ve promised to help people move, find them jobs, start businesses together, and possibly serve as their lookout for some sort of investigation or surveillance or stalking of a past significant other.  While I avoid making promises in my regular, non-bar-based life, I am full of promises with a bit of vodka in my system.  The next morning, my regrets aren’t about a man in my bed so much as a to-do list.

Granted, I have actually made great friends on nights out drinking.  I have met wonderful people, had enlightening conversations, and most importantly, lived life in the moment.  The only problem is when living life in the moment leaves me indebted for the foreseeable future.

I’m sure I won’t be able to avoid making new friends and new promises when I’m wearing my goggles.  It’s considerably less likely to leave me with an incurable disease.  I’m sure that some of these drunken friends are just as glad as I am that we haven’t followed up on our promise to start a non-profit and save the world.

Still, please consider this post my disclaimer from any promises I make with a glass in my hand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to help someone move.