SELFABSORBED.ME

Saturday night I am sitting at one of those tables where you are not sure if you have a waitress or not to get you drinks, or if you have to go up to the bar to get your own drinks, or if you go to the bar to get your own drinks if the waitress will finally come by and scold you for having gone to the bar when clearly she is right there…it is one of my top dilemmas in life, the kind of quandary only some great Buddha sitting in a pile of leaves could possibly provide the answer to.

I choose the safest bet for getting my alcohol on time and decided to hit the bar. The blonde haired bartender stared at me from across the way. Was she going to take my drink order or what? What am I part of the 8 legged circus right now? Let’s get on it Miss Vodka Maker, go make me some vodka! But she was just standing there, staring. She finally walked over and said definitively, “I know you.”

Me: “Ah, you do?”

Starey McStare: “Yes I do.”

Me: “Ummm, I’m sorry?”

Starey McStare : “No no, you went to camp right? Camp Huckins?”

Me: "Ohh yes! Why yes I did, ahh some good memories…but what division were you? I don’t recognize you..”


Starey McStare: “Oh , I was your division… but you didn’t hang out with me.”

I just sorted nodded. Figures. All I want to get is some friggen vodka sodas and I couldn’t be bothered to hang out with McStare over here. I was probably 8 and more fascinated by how tampons worked.

She just smiled though and took my order.

One year ago prior, I had a similar experience. I was in midtown when some 5ft 11 blonde chic stopped me on the street wearing this red checkered bustier top.

Checkers: “Hey, I know you!”

Me: “No, I am not Ginger Spice from the Spice Girls…now if you will excuse me...”

Checkers: “No no no… you went to Camp Huckins right?”

Me: “Oh, um, yes, yes I did.”

Checkers: “You were a CIT when I was there.”

Me: “Oh well it was nice seeing you, I have to go get back to...”

Checkers: "Boy was I scared of you…”

Now I was the one stopping and staring.

Me: “Excuse me.. scared of me?”

Checkers: “Oh yeah…you were always the lead in every lip sync!”


The. Lead. In. Every. Lip. Sync.

Was I really hearing this correctly?

Me: “Oh, um, I was? I guess, maybe I don’t remember.”

Checkers: “Oh yeah, and you used to be in the middle of the circle in every dance party!”

The Middle. Of the Circle. In Every. Dance Party.

It was as though someone had just punched me right in my 10 year old stomach.

I tried to swallow back the vomit that was creeping up the back of my throat.

It was just getting worse and worse. In my head I was begging for Checkers to stop.

Checkers: “Oh yeah and in windsailing you used to jump off the boat to try and hit on guys on the neighboring island…”





Oh sweet chutney Lord in Heaven. Make it stop. Just make it stop.

Me: "Ok ok, you are going to have to stop… I didn’t know that I made anyone , um, scared of me, per say. I don’t remember being that way, but um, I don’t sing in leads anymore and um, I wouldn’t be scared of me now, that is for sure..”


Checkers just stood there, all 5ft 11 of her, her perfect body and bouncy blonde hair, staring at all 5ft 2 of me. I had nothing on this girl. Nor do I think I ever did. But apparently, in her mind, I was 6ft 9.

In your childhood, how do you remember if you were mean? If you were nice? If you were the lead circle dancing girl?

Do you grow up to be the exact same person you were? If you played Sandy in Grease once, will you forever be Sandy? Will you ever just get to be some lousy back-up singer, or Stage Dancer#3?

I am going to come to accept my days at Camp Huckins as days when I apparently used my formable personality to bully over girls who would later on turn into models. Funny how life works, huh? If Checkers and I had seen each other in some bar, her and her beautiful leggy blondeness would be my biggest fear.


But apparently, even after all those years, I was hers.

Upon much scientific data and thorough forensic reports I have come to the conclusion that there are four types of girls in the world.

Now I know what you are going to say, “But Kim, how can you be so discriminatory towards your own gender and equate all women to being in specified and visionary entities?!”

And to that I would respond, “Poop on you.”

Now let us begin.

The first category I would like to call Level 1 . Level 1 girls are those girls who should not exist within society, but unfortunately they do. These are the girls who are ridiculously beautiful, do not know they are beautiful and are also sweet, nice and classy. Essentially, someone needs to do something about these bitches. They are bringing the rest of us down. They are those tall brunette girls on the trains holding their clueless ugly Nine West handbag, because they are too beautiful to know what is in fashion and too sweet to care regardless. These types of women find boyfriends by simply turning around the wrong way on the street and have mindless jobs and don’t worry about much more then being sweet, baking pies, getting married and being ‘unknowingly’ beautiful. Someone needs to fucking stop breeding these women, and get rid of them before I have to rat poison every one of their Cranberry Surprise drinks, Sweet Sally Jessie Rafael I'll do it I swear!

The second Category I would like to refer to as, Level B 1. This is the category wherein I will include myself. And I know what you’re thinking, “Sooo this must be the ridiculously good looking and intelligent category?” And I might be tempted to even say yes to that one. But alas, no. This is the “I think I am ridiculously good looking and intelligent category.” As one of my friends says her favorite quote of mine is, “I am one of those girls who thinks she is better looking then she is.” Now the problem with all women in this category is that they have "boyfriend’ trouble"...*cough* WHAT?! *cough* WHO?!....Yes, see us Level B 1 girls, are cute, have jobs, strive for more in life then just the usual ‘pie baking’, many of us have advanced degrees and serious non flaking lip-gloss (sephoria #10 for real bitches, try it). But that is just the problem, we “think” too much. Think about our looks. Think about our jobs , think about our relationships. And as I always say, I believe we need to start doing less “thinking” and more “uterus-ing”.

The thirds category is the non-thinking non-overly beautiful girls. I will refer to this as Level 1 C. Level 1 C is also a freewheeling lifestyle, where these ladies don’t think too much about their looks, they are cute, on-the-border-of-average-on-the-border-of-unremarkable, but in a good way. They flow in and out of social situations, making a joke here and there, tend to have good jobs that dont over-think. Average looks that they aren’t over-thinking. And tend to be pro’s in the dating arena. Mostly because they find a man who likes them and they stick with him. ..."Wait, what?! Did I just hallucinate? So you are saying Kim that some girls just find a guy…and date him? No questions asked? No over-analyzing? No diecting his Lee Jeans that he wears on Sundays?" Ahh yes, that is correct my lady friends. Some girls out there just take what comes their way. Lee jeans or no Lee jeans.


The final category I will call The Hopeless women of Level F 2. These women are in and out of jobs they can’t keep, have trouble with the men folk, and try way to damn hard at everything. These are the girls I find myself just shaking my head at when they enter the bar with some too tight jean skirt on, red lipstick and big hair. These girls are on big hot mess. And I love em for it, sweet mary Magdaline do I love these damn women! They are just hopeless, dressing like a country rock star on 80’s night in Nashville, own purses that dangle (if I have to explain that one then we need more then just 1 email) and have apartments with figurines. You have to love these women, because when it comes to life, they are just lost. It was like they got on the turkey truck to crazy town and have been applying hot pink eye shadow ever since. These women are the kind men SHOULD date, but wont. And they will marry someone named Earl and own numerous Hot Tools

and will buy a house that’s a fixer-upper with no plans of fix-en. These women are doing one thing right though…using their uterus’ a lot.

SHEKNOWS.COM answer mysteries to life's most important questions:

Shanie, I would like to personally answer this one.

Dear- Whomever is lonely enough to write in to SheKnows.com …

Why is it so hard to find a date? I know what is running through your head and yes, the obvious choice does seem to be, answer #1- (small child raises hand) "Because Miss Ponderings ...I am not whoring myself out enough?"

Now I am sure you assume that to be the most obvious choice sweet child, however we all know children, 'assuming' only makes an Ass out of You and Me (class of children burst out laughing at the hil-ar-ious joke I make and smile at their incredibly attractive and all-knowing teacher) Now children, Miss Ponderings will tell you it is MOST LIKELY the answer you haven't thought of...answer #C- (small girl raises hand again) "ummmm... because I am annoying as shit?"

DING DING DING!

In fact I am sure all the above qualities are quite true about yourself and even more, you probably do charity work and appeal to the goodness of God and all things holy and maybe even deer and small animals run up to you on the street to sing some sort of melody with you…but when the rest of us look at you, or worse HEAR you talking to your friend on the subway, at say 7am when all I am trying to do is listen to my morning Ace Base I Saw the Sign to get pumped up for work, but instead all I can hear is your voice I do not wonder for two moments why you are single....and as I notice my earlobes starting to bleed from your high pitched tone, I want to rip those Prada sunglasses right off your face and scream, “Damnit woman! You don’t need sunglasses indoors. YOU. JUST. DON’T.”

My friends have been nice enough to scour Craigslist personals to find me a new apartment …and am I ever grateful…

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/roo/595467916.html

100 female roomate wanted cheap rent
Reply to: mailto:hous-595467916@craigslist.org?subject=$100%20female%20roomate%20wanted%20cheap%20rent%20

Date: 2008-03-04, 3:27PM
I'm a 25 year old medical school student. I spend most of my time in the library or in class. I love my school work however I spend alot of time in the school and unfortunately don't have the time that I would like to socialize or meet new people. My life is also a little boring and I have recently been looking for ways to spice it up/ I recently inherited a massive two bedroom apartment from my family at 65th and 3rd Ave and haven't had anyone to share it with for a few months now. What I am proposing might appear odd to some and I understand that but I would appreciate it if yo keep an open mind. As I own the place, I have no real need for any rent and so I am willing to rent out the second spacious bedroom for only $100 a month. I am looking for a young female roommate from 23 - 29 who would be willing to move in; the only requirement that I have is she wouldn't mind occasionally walking in her underwear around the apartment while doing mundane things such as cooking, laundry etc. I do not want nor expect any sexual favours, nor will i ask for any nudity or videotaping of any kind. As I said my life and job can be slightly boring and I would like to spice things up somewhat. If you are interested please e-mail me along with a picture, again the picture does not have to be pornographic in anyway just want an idea. I have also attached a picture of myself below for anyone who is interested. I'm on the right





Now for starters all I can say is…how could I possibly resist this kind of offer? I mean, let’s be real, I walk around naked in my apartment as is.. just waiting , hoping, praying some boy is watching through the windows afar…until of course I realize the only view from my windows is a fake outdoor patio that houses many pigeons…but I really think the pigeons are into it and I know some of the male pigeons over there would be more then willing to give me cheap housing for naked carousing.

I am also glad he specified that he was the one, "On the Right"...otherwise I NEVER would have responded to the ad.

My friends would like me to respond that I am a 300 lb girl from Queens who wears nothing but G Strings and a smile...although I have to disagree and say I would prefer to be 310 lbs and from Staten Island and wear nothing but undies made out of Hemp...but hey, that's just me.


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No I will say that APPARENTLY this article was written in 2007 and not in 2008 as I originally thought...but this article would make much more sense if it was written in 1907...and I don't even know if people knew how to write in 1907 or even if they knew what the word 'writing' was ..,.or even if there was the English language by then or if people just walked around making sounds like a monkey they presumed to be language...but I do know one thing....this article really FROSTED MY COOKIES:

http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2007/01/hitchens200701



Why Women Aren't Funny

What makes the female so much deadlier than the male? With assists from Fran Lebowitz, Nora Ephron, and a recent Stanford-medical-school study, the author investigates the reasons for the humor gap.
by Christopher Hitchens January 2007

From the John Springer Collection/Corbis.
Be your gender what it may, you will certainly have heard the following from a female friend who is enumerating the charms of a new (male) squeeze: "He's really quite cute, and he's kind to my friends, and he knows all kinds of stuff, and he's so funny … " (If you yourself are a guy, and you know the man in question, you will often have said to yourself, "Funny? He wouldn't know a joke if it came served on a bed of lettuce with sauce béarnaise.") However, there is something that you absolutely never hear from a male friend who is hymning his latest (female) love interest: "She's a real honey, has a life of her own … [interlude for attributes that are none of your business] … and, man, does she ever make 'em laugh."
Now, why is this? Why is it the case?, I mean. Why are women, who have the whole male world at their mercy, not funny? Please do not pretend not to know what I am talking about.
All right—try it the other way (as the bishop said to the barmaid). Why are men, taken on average and as a whole, funnier than women? Well, for one thing, they had damn well better be. The chief task in life that a man has to perform is that of impressing the opposite sex, and Mother Nature (as we laughingly call her) is not so kind to men. In fact, she equips many fellows with very little armament for the struggle. An average man has just one, outside chance: he had better be able to make the lady laugh. Making them laugh has been one of the crucial preoccupations of my life. If you can stimulate her to laughter—I am talking about that real, out-loud, head-back, mouth-open-to-expose-the-full-horseshoe-of-lovely-teeth, involuntary, full, and deep-throated mirth; the kind that is accompanied by a shocked surprise and a slight (no, make that a loud) peal of delight—well, then, you have at least caused her to loosen up and to change her expression. I shall not elaborate further.
Women have no corresponding need to appeal to men in this way. They already appeal to men, if you catch my drift. Indeed, we now have all the joy of a scientific study, which illuminates the difference. At the Stanford University School of Medicine (a place, as it happens, where I once underwent an absolutely hilarious procedure with a sigmoidoscope), the grim-faced researchers showed 10 men and 10 women a sample of 70 black-and-white cartoons and got them to rate the gags on a "funniness scale." To annex for a moment the fall-about language of the report as it was summarized in Biotech Week:
This is not to say that women are humorless, or cannot make great wits and comedians. And if they did not operate on the humor wavelength, there would be scant point in half killing oneself in the attempt to make them writhe and scream (uproariously). Wit, after all, is the unfailing symptom of intelligence. Men will laugh at almost anything...
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And, oh yes, the article only gets worse...

-When did they decide to let Hillary run for office? Women can’t run for office! They get menstruation! I read somewhere their periods attract bears. Bears can smell the menstruation. And well, that is just great, you hear that? Bears. Now you're putting the White House and presumably the whole country in jeopardy!

-Where did polyester go? What happened to that nice itchy fiber that shirts and some well priced slacks used to be made out of? I want to go to a nightclub, see some Latin person dancing and walk over like I know what I’m doing on the dance-floor because, hey, I am wearing polyester. And maybe this Latin guy doesn’t really want to dance with me just because of this synthetic fiber I am wearing. Maybe he hasn’t answered any of my calls, or respond to any of my letters, or even to the candy-gram…and God only knows what happened to the kitten I got for him…cause he definitely didn't keep it, and I know for sure I am not raising the goddamn thing.

-Why do women want to date guys who have experience? Why aren’t women going after guys who have never had any experience with a woman before, whose closest experience was the one time his dentist leaned so far over her chair that her boob almost knocked him in the face and he went home and told all his friends he got to second base during a root canal? I think all girls should want to have sex with virgins... I think a guy’s first time might be his best time too. You think that too right? Don’t you? Well I knew it… you know what? I knew that you'd react that way and I knew that you would want to lead him through his first sexual encounter will all the compassion and care that someone would give to their soulmate.


-Because I said so! I already mentioned on numerous occasions that I may not be the marrying type! Can't you understand! Do we all have to settle down? I don’t even like the phrase settling down. I don’t want to settle and especially not down. But then here comes all these boys who are wondering what I am doing for the rest of my life. Do you ever wonder how somebody could even like you? The biggest problem in marriage is that he wants me around. And I can't even accept that? I don't think I can accept pure love. Marriage is like a tense, unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond… only it doesn't last 22 minutes. It lasts forever.

Walking up my apartment's treacherous two flights of stairs last night with my roommate, I went on what can only be called a typical ‘Kim Tyrant’, or ‘Temper Tantrum’ for the Harvard graduates out there. I was yelling all the way up the stairs about something that has bothered me since the dawn of time, and that dawn of time clearly being October 29th, 1981 when I was born. Hello people, pay attention here.