Preppy is the New Hipster

The internet is down at my house. I am frustrated by this, and thought I would take avantage of the last 15 minutes of my work day and write something.
I don't have too much to say. I am happy, exhausted, and looking forward to a hot date with my new found love, (referenced below). It is supposed to rain here all weekend. I am super excited about this. I love rain, maybe its the romantic in me. I should move to Seattle (I knew this even after I realized Tom Robbins was for amateurs(don't get me wrong I still look back on him fondly-considering that Bret Easton Ellis is the only other author I have read in their entirety)). The only thing that I am nervous about is coming out as a prepster in Seattle. Will I have to try and be all moody and dark if I move to there. I think I can pull off a dark and smoky eye, but does this mean I have to stop popping my collar?

Today is the birthday of my darling friend cyberagatha. One day Agatha and I went on a date. We drank Proseco and went to see a Woody Allen RoCo. We held hands afterward, but I think that was because we were both quite toasted and feared skinning our knees on the pavement. Happy Birthday dear friend-

Never fear dear friends, I have already met someone new. He is always on my mind. He needs me, and I need him. He challenges me. He satisfies me. Sometimes he plays games with me, but he always lets me look at the answers. We have been together so far for over a month, though frankly I don't see it lasting into October. We spend two nights a week together and usually more. What more can a girl ask for?

You can break up with someone you aren't dating. I know, I did it today. It hurts. I don't know why it hurts so much, it wasn't going anywhere. The one day a week I saw him was always so nice, sweet, smart, cute. I liked his hairy shoulders, and the way he titled his head and adjusted his glasses when he liked what I had to said.
I did all of the things that girls aren't supposed to do. I fell too hard. I over-analyzed. I imagined a future with those hairy little shoulders. I always do these things. I should accept that they are part of my emotional wardrobe.
He has some big important job. It was sexy. I know it is bizarre to think of a job as sexy, but it was. Oddly enough, I didnt really like hearing about it much. I knew that there was more to him than his intimate relationship with a certain man named Richard. There was, but unfortunately, he spent all of his time at his job. He seemed committed to a certain life of emotional celibacy. I like to think that if he would have let himself, he might have fallen for me too.
I know it is for the best. Besides he told me that he doesn't dance. This will simply not do for me. I love, I mean LOVE to dance. MPC didn't dance either, and he was also emotionally unavailable...hmmm a correlation? If someone could explain why I am attracted to this type please enlighten me.
I think that the next time I find myself meeting a young gentleman and there might be a possibility to kiss him, I will immediately ask him if he dances. If he doesnt, I am going to run like hell in the other direction.
I am feeling a bit blue, but I am proud of myself. I am on my way to really being able to understand what I need in another person. I must accept that these things are not unreasonable, and be happy and excited to find the other piece of my puzzle.
So RSK is over. I will forge ahead. Say goodbye to the summer sleepovers, NE, 7-up, those hairy shoulders and recognize that the seasons are changing. I also need to thank my dear friends for still keeping me, even though I cried in my omlette this morning.

I am off of boys and chardonnay. All I want now is Bakelite and sugar free red bull.

I can actually hear my boss interviewing my potential replacement and he is talking shit about me. This is unbelievable. I want someone to shoot me in the face.

Tirez-moi dans le visage
Schießen Sie mich im Gesicht
Sparilo nella faccia
Dispare em me na cara
Снимите меня в стороне
Tíreme en la cara
Ontspruit me in het gezicht

I love making out. It is so fun. This weekend, I had a supreme make-out session.
Scene: Wedding, evening with a slight drizzle, under some sort of white blossoming tree.
Companion: Super Attractive financial type and actually quite sweet, speaking sweet nothings to me in Spanish while we both quite giddy about the over-the-top romantic value of our situation.
Post Make-out:In a chardonnay induces haze Ruthie B. becomes embarrassed and starts to feel guilty about the boy at home, (who doesnt want to date her) Genius!
Post Vacation:Ruthie B. wishes she wasn't such a drunk bitch and wants to apologize for being rude at the end of the evening with the hope that said-make out partner will forgive and adore her forever!
Post Longing for make-out partner: David I. takes a pin and pops the ballon of all my hopes and dreams, "Why do you want to call him? He doesnt give a shit about you." Thanks for keeping it real David I. Good point there are plently of men here in the district of columbia that either dont give a shit about me, or have that potential. I certainly dont need to go to the west coast for that sort of a thing.

I have got it in the most serious way.

Yes, thats me. I was enjoying a leasurly ride today on the beaches of Southern California, when all of a sudden I ate some serious shit. I completely scrapped up my elbow and foot. Oh yes, and no helmet for me. At least I did it Gracefully.
I have begun to realizet that I look like more of an idiot not wearing a helmet, than I would wearing one. So maybe I will skip the record player buy myself a helmet, probably not.

Of things which fighten me on a plane, I would also like to add:

Mile Hi Mojito on a plane(yes Delta Airlines did actually try to serve these to people on my flight to LA) gross if you ask me. Do you grind the mint and the sugar right in front on you in the middle of the isle?

Asian boys with Running noses sitting next to me on a plane-i know i know, I guess any runny noses sitting next to me on a plane, not exclusively asian ones.

Tom Cruise in a bad action movie on a plane-While I love bad actions movies and I am not ashamed to admit it. The sheer force of Tom's on-screen, even those little plane screens, performance sent me into a panic, because I actually believed that Philip Seymour Hoffman was going to take over the world, and Tom was no where in sight to save me.

So I will be traveling for the next 10 days or so(which I am soo pumped about considering I just got reammed at my office, not my fault I swear-though my friend www.fhwadsworth.com says I dont know how to take criticism, f-you frank). However, it seems like a bunch of people(a-hole terrorists) are interested in making this more difficult for me, my aryian relatives, and my sicilian in-laws. I would like however to open up a discussion about any fears that I/you have associated with flying. In light of the big premier coming up next week I thought we could do it in the soap form.

Ruthie B's top ten things to fear while flying:

10.) My imminent B.O. on a Plane-smells bad and is uncomfortable

9.) Small Children on Planes-Yikes!

8.) Drunk Misogynists on Planes-it is embarrassing for everyone around

7.) Diaherra on a Plane-yours or anyone elses

6.) Scripture Candy on a Plane-or any religious fanatics for that matter

5.) NaCl on a Plane-it makes me feel bloated

4.) Delays on a Plane-just infuriating

3.) Obese Tourists on a Plane-pouring into your seat

2.) Hallitosis on a Plane-No one wants to get stuck next to that

1.) Product on a Plane-Hair product that is.

It is important to find someone with a skill, and then date that person. Certain skills are more helpful than others.

Good people with skills to date:

A Dentist-I know from personal experience. I got my teeth cleaned for free when I dated a dentist. Dental work can be expensivo.

A Drug Dealer-preferable college years, when drugs are still considered to help find yourself and be experimental.

An Artist-I have dated writer once, but he never wrote anything for me, except a short story that said: Laura we arent dating its just a fling while you are living in Spain. I think an artist would be great he could make you art and being a muse would be rad.

An I-Banker: they could make you dollar$.

A Carpenter: They could build you a house, and look all rugged and sexy about it.

A Diplomat: They could get you visa for lots of exotic places.

Bad people to date:

An OB-GYN: eliminates any possibility for cheating, not that I would.

A Musician: They are whores.

A Politician: They make you false Promises.

A Traveling Salesman: who wants the Willy Loman personality to deal with.

A Fashion Designer: They would make you insecure about their sexuality.

What did I miss? Let me know!

Yeah, so if you know me, you know I think religion is about a cool as hot summer nights at the georgetown waterfront.
I mean don't get me wrong, like any aspiring intellectual(cough, cough), I think religion is fansinating as a subject matter, but less so as a personal philospophy. My biggest beef with religion is when it is thrown in my face. I am not even going to discuss the double parking issue in my neighborhood.
My boss, soon to be ex-boss brought be some religious candy yesterday. "Sours" in the shape of jesus-fish. I mean in light of all of this Mel Gibson business, you think an intelligent man would resist giving his assistant, who I might add has been mistaken for a jew many times(I have an immigrants nose people say) Scripture candy. I want to add that the tin the candy came in is fantastic, made is China of course and also contains a Bible Verse! Mark 10:27, for those that are interested. The candy I would have to say is sub-par. The "Sours" look more like Flinstone Kids vitamins, and taste more like the body of christ, specifically the skin behind his ears. At least I can cherish the box for its kistchster value and carry advil in it.
I guess the scripture candy isnt really that different from than the Chocolate Chahnuka Coins my mother puts in my christmas stocking each year, but thanks to Dov Charney, Judiasm was so hot last year that I dont mind it as much. Maybe the Christians are making a sub-culture comeback, and Roger is just ahead of the curve. Somehow, I doubt it.

Until I get the hell out of this sweaty bayou for a week+. I have decided it is not me that makes me crazy, not the female-ness that runs through my veins, not even the men(or lack thereof) in my life. It is the utterly mundane life that I have become in the last two months. It is my office job, my commute, the joy I get in being able to finish a Sodoku puzzle but the time I hit Tenleytown, my mediocre waredrobe, which would be hot with an extra six grand a year, the 1.3 hours I spend at the gym, looking at lesbians wondering if they are looking at me like I am a lesbian, the coffee at work, the studying. Most of all though. It is the heat. It is too hot to think, to eat, to drink coffee, to sleep(with anyone in my bedroom), to sit outside. These are all the things I love to do. Out with the heat and in with the joy!

I want to die. I want to die. Actually what I would really like is for someone to explain to me why I am the most stressed out 23-year-old-woman on the planet. I dont know what it is. I munch on B-complex all day long, excersize at least ten times a week, eat lots of spinach, cross my ts and dot my is, and yet, I toss and turn at night about things that I am supposed to be doing. WTF.

I have come up with the term free-floating stress. FFS, for short. Wow I really like to bitch, dont I? I think it is fun. I am actually so delusional that I dont think people mind it. I couldnt be more wrong. My friends hate me for it. My sleepover friends really hate me for it, especially since I like to start first thing in the morning, sometimes before the alarm goes off. I mean what could I possibly be thinking that people like this shit. I mean what could be more fun than to wake up next to someone who is like "fuck fuck fuck, I dont want to _________. I really hate __________." Wow, thats great. Please come over tomorrow. So I can start my day being pissed off too. The thing is I am actually a generally happy person.

These days I feel as though I am scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Why? I am not sure. A combination of things to be sure, including but not limited to my work situation, my mediocre work ethic, the LSAT, the idea of how to ask out my lsat teacher without seeming typical and when I am going to have time to do it, studying for the LSAT, finding a replacement for my environmental duties at the neighborhood association, laundry, eating well, making time for the gym, bleaching my teeth, taking my vitamins, paying my bills, looking for a new place to live, wedding present for CJ, vacation time and my lack of it, traveling, some guy that I dig that can't date me bc a-doesnt want to b-doesnt have time or c-is probably married, Hezbollah and Israel, affording my 401-K, saving money, getting along with both my mother and father, what to wear to work tomorrow, when to pick up my dry cleaning, buying a record player, getting glasses, getting a shrink(probably wont happen).

So I just listed 27 off the top of my head. Of those 27-I have actual total control of 16 of those things. I guess that is not too bad. 16 is just a little ball of stress, not a big one. golf ball size, not rugby.

So apparently I have bad choice in guys. I know I am not alone in this, a lot of my girlfriends have bad taste in guys, which is almost quivilent to how many men that I know that have bad taste in women. I seem to have a highly refined pallet for guys that are completely unavailable.

I mean does committing adultery once(unknowingly the first time, and he was semi-famous so does it count?) permanently brand you to mistressdome for the rest of your life? I mean do I have a tatoo in my forehead that says, "hey if you are married, in a serious relationship or have a serious carreer pick me, I want you to treat me badly."

I am not going to lie. It can be fun, sexy and dangerous, but really Laura the only person you are hurting is yourself(not true actually). Stop doing it. Its not cool. Unavailable men dont want to treat you nicely. I want to treat you the way they cannot treat anyone else in their life. So if they are married-they want to be adventureous, if they are in a serious relationship they want to be permiscuous, and if they are married to work-they want to blow you off bc they can't blow off anything else in the regular life.

I am throwing a party, a costume/pity party. I am going as the punching bag for all unsatified men in the world. No offense to those who ACTUALLY are punching bags, which by the way if you are, you are a bigger sucker than me, and we should hang out.

The most bizarre part about all of this is every single time, I go into it blindly. I pick them out of a crowd as good prospects and every time I am let down. I should get a magazine, like people who know alot about cigars, vintage sports cars, or japanese gore.

Its true. I am drowning in a sea of bad music, I forgot my bubble, and there is no one to blame but myself.

Por ejemplo:
Girl TalkNight Ripper-This CD which my roommate PN, burned for me bc he thought it would be "right up my alley" it makes me want to "set myself on fire"(Lucille Bluth, Arrested Development, Pilot Episode). Yeah and I dont mean it in a good way like Kamikazi pilots. Its a bunch of the cheesy pop, indie and otherwise, that I oh so adore. But this album, like my work habits, has got ADD. No, more like ADHD. I am running on the tread mill and as soon as I get a good gait going, it will switch from like some dr. dre beat to I dont know franz ferdinand. While I do admitted like all the stuff on there its like my closet. With all of the good stuff piled up on top of each other you cant tell what your looking at. I think its time to rethink my closet, and music.

Insert witty line about the differences between preppy music(journey) and hipster music(modern lovers).

I am sitting in my office right now with two strips of a gelly-like bleach stubstance on my teeth. In addition to burning the shit out my gums, this strange and superficial activity makes me wonder about the price of beauty. Like, it is worth this pain for an hour a day, just so my teeth will look unnaturally white, like Burt Reynolds. Probably.

As a sometime smoker and an all the time coffee drinker, I have come to accept that the color of my teeth with hover around the shades in between a yellow post-it note and the cute cream color sweater that I bought a few weeks ago. I like both those things, so I didnt really have a problem with it, besides I have been so focused on my flossing activities that I totally forgot about the color of my pearly whites. Last week my mother sent me some "white stripes" with a note saying picture time is coming up(a family party celebrating my brothers green card-courthouse marriage to a sicilian immigrant). I was offended by this. Most likely because I am immature I get pissed when my mother tells me what to do. She is right, and here I sit at the office hoping no one with come by and wonder how many days it has been since I brushed my teeth. These Meg and Jack Whites make my teeth look filmy like 4 days of built up plaque.

Teeth are really weird. I used to date a dentist, and his offectionate nickname for me was "baby tooth". I think he might of also be some sort of sociopath. At least that was the feeling I got when he made me make out with him at his dental office. I liked it. More on Dr. Yuen later.

So this morning out of boredom, poor work ethic and romantic desperation I posted the below classified on craigslist.org. I am actually quite pleased with it, and though it exposes me for the shallow, woman that I am, I feel confident that I can pass it off as an experiment of 21st century dating. Yeah sure. I guess that means I am a lying shallow woman. Aren't we all?

"Cute, young, smart and fun, and/or dillusional 23 year old seeks cute guy that has an apartment on U street in a buidling with a doorman, and a nice collection of foreign dvds. Above-referenced guy should be looking for a roommate with similar qualities to above-referenced me. Ideal guys would travel for work 75% of the time and the other 25% of the time want to take me out to dinner and have hot sex with me."