Hello My Name Is: Judgey McJudgey Pants.
OK so yeah I am going to start this out by apologizing for my absence again. Ok. I am sorry. I am.
This time it was a conference that kept me from my computer. I actually had internet. But no extra time. In case you were wondering, conferences are like overfrying your brain with so much work-related stuff all day you need to drink for hours with your colleagues at night (well, that and the Irish + Italians mean you’re just going to drink. Period).
For example. I saw nothing about Dublin except the inside of pubs. Seriously. I was literally steps from a very important historical… thing and I never saw it. I meant to. Really.
I would also like to apologize to it. As one of my current hosts said “five hundred monks went blind making that and you couldn’t find a half hour?” with that look that only fabulous gay men can pull off. And maybe your grandmother.
Um. Well. I did see the All Blacks kick some Irish ass…? There was drinking that needed to be done…? (he’s Irish – that one he understood).
And, just a tidbit about my hosts tonight: They have an old magnet on the fridge that has old pics (read: they were younger)of Bill Clinton and Al Gore superimposed on very hot male bodies, naked to the waist. The caption says “Who needs Monica?”
Oh yeah – they are this amazing Irish gay couple who fed me Guiness beef stew for dinner and a bottle of wine.
Anyways. I actually didn’t want to write about them and their awesomeness. I wanted to write about this
girl woman girl woman (ok I am having trouble with this – in all physical attributes, she is a woman – but in my head, she’s so not) Girl at the conference.
I really want to like her. Really. I do.
She’s obviously wicked smaaat, cute, fun, funny, etc – and she apparently really wants to be my friend but… I thought she was fun and we were going to be friends. At first.
She asked me if she looks fat (you are 36 years old – do not ask anyone that you just met two days ago that ever ever ever again in your entire life). She’s not fat in any way shape or form.
She proceeded the am-I-fat? statement with “I had been on a salad diet for, like, two weeks before this, ok?” I believe that statement actually led to her asking if she was now, since she was no longer on the salad-only diet, fat.
To make my point here? She got ridiculously wasted one night and her pants kept falling down. Because she’s so fat, obviously.
And, just so you know, I would be happy to still be friends even though she got ridiculously shitfaced at a conference with a whole bunch of (let’s be honest) perfect strangers. Happens to the best of us (and she had a reason – well two: it was her bday and she found out that day her ex husband is suing her – Happy Birthday! Although… to be honest I actually don’t think the whole ex-suing thing should be something you tell strangers… but, to be fair, she only told us that once she was falling-down shitty. To be honest. And fair. At the same time. Is there more than one person writing this?)
She practically crawled in the lap of any guy who gave her the time of day. Now, I told you she was cute – and she totally is. She did not need to do that. And, to be honest, I am not sure that’s the best choice of behavior while at a conference.
But that’s just my opinion.
I guess… why such low standards? Why so… obvious about it? I mean… it wasn’t just normal, or even abnormal, flirting. It was… hey so… you should take me home um oh yeah now.
I don’t know. Totally not up to me how she behaves (I mean really) but… why does such behavior bother me so much?
Why ya gotta be all into boy’s laps like that? Don’t you have any self respect? Or respect for them? You don’t care who you are acting like this with – and it’s more than just being a ridiculous tease. I think she would have gone home with any of them (you know.. until she couldn’t stand up any more… but that was only the one night…).
You have advertised yourself, blatantly, as a sex object and pretty much nothing more. They don’t even have to work for it, really.
You also have made these men completely interchangeable. There is nothing special about any of them, aside from which one happens to be closest to you.
Help, dear readers. Why do I dislike this so much? And is that ok, or am I just the Judgey McJudgey Pants being all bitchy to her fellow womankind?