I will just say this. I really hope the Saints win. I know, I know. Underdogs. But I have such a big place in my heart for New Orleans and after everything that city has gone through, they deserve a big win. Something to hope for. They deserve that. And so I'll be rooting for the Saints on Sunday.
I got my first spam commenter on my blog the other day. And you know what I did? DENIED! That's right. Ohyeah. Watchout! Spammers, I will knock. you. down.
Which brings me to...being bitchy (see what I did there? I am fucking brilliant.) After a recent karaoke excursion with Morgan and her subsequent blog about seeming bitchy, she and I were discussing appearing bitchy to others. Her concern is the girls always think she's a bitch before they meet her (when, of course, they're always suprised). I can guess why this is. She makes a face when she's people watching which could possibly seem bitchy to the female set.
But I didn't have this experience with her. It's a long story, but Morgan and I arranged our first meeting via email and so I had never actually seen her in person before. And then we met and hugged and were instant best friends for evah. So I never thought she seemed bitchy. I thought she was awesome rolled in awesome and served with a side of awesome. She still is.
And I was discussing this with Love Interest the other night (don't worry, Internet, he has a real name), but when Morgan and I go out to karaoke or bars (very rarely), she gets hit on more than I do. And yes, her boobs are roughly 12.5 times the size of mine, but I don't think that's why. I think that she puts off a bit of a bitchy vibe without even knowing it and guys kind of dig that, I think. At least guys in bars. Real guys are much different. But they don't want a total bitch. But just a little bitchy poses a challenge. They like the feist. And Morgan puts off plenty of the feist. Problem is, she's not a bitch at all.
As for myself though, when I go out, I'm actually a bitch. And blame it on my years in Hollywood or 12 some odd years of dodging men's hands on my ass, but I don't want to be hit on. So I plaster a fuckoff look on my face whenever a dude tries to catch my eye and that usually does the trick. It's been a long time since I've had to resort to actually speaking to a dude in Bitch. But it's a language I can slip into easily if forced. And that, Internet, is way too much bitch for bar guys. They just want a little tail and that's way too much work. There's a fine line between the thrill of the chase and knowing full well they'll never get anywhere near that. Which is just how I like it.
Now, before the dudes start attacking, let me say that this is just out and about and only applies to that specific form of being "hit on" or "picked up." Nice guys who can actually carry on decent conversations and don't feel the need to troll bars for some tail were always okay in my book. I'm not a eunuch. I just like my ass hands-free thankyouverymuch.
Which brings me to....one of the best comedy sketches of all time. It's a classic, but still rings true. I know this type of dude (p.s. played by a woman) and there is no amount of bitchy that can shoot him down. I know.
Can I have your number?