In a rut? Yeah, me too.

Oh, so stress is to blame for our life ruts.

DUHHHHH!!!!! Scientists sure do spend a lot of time trying to tell us shit we already know. Those are all the S-types on the Myers-Briggs scale who gotta have “evidence” for everything. God, they bug me. All us “N” people know you don’t need proof, just a sound gut instinct.

Anyway, this is slightly old news, but nonetheless relevant from the NYT. A few choice excerpts:

• We’re lousy at recognizing when our normal coping mechanisms aren’t working. Our response is usually to do it five times more, instead of thinking, “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

• Though perseverance can be an admirable trait and is essential for all success in life, when taken too far it becomes perseveration — uncontrollable repetition — or simple perversity. “If I were to try to break into the world of modern dance, after the first few rejections the logical response might be, practice even more. But after the 12,000th rejection, maybe I should realize this isn’t a viable career option.”

So, la-di-da – for those to whom it matters, I now have scientific evidence to support my recent revelations that a) running my own business sucks ass for a number of reasons and maybe all these hurdles I’ve endured this year aren’t so much tests of perseverance as much as giant red flags telling me to either detour or make a big fucking U-turn, and b) dating also sucks ass and needs to be abandoned for the same reasons.

And P.S. – with regard to the latter, I want to note that, in the seven months I have been back in Seattle, I’ve employed a couple of new strategies in this area, precisely to escape the rut I’d been in for years, which was clearly not working: 1) trying online dating (which resulted in two dates in one month, including this nightmare) and 2) being set up by friends (which resulted in five additional dates – wait, no, make that two, considering I was stood up by THREE different people). Yes, that’s seven dates in seven months – an average of one per month, nearly half of which resulted in me sitting there thoughtfully chewing the inside of my cheek. Of course, what’s most disconcerting to me is not the “rejection” – because you can’t be rejected, much less take something personally, when people don’t even know you – but the lack of respect and common courtesy. I sat there thinking, “REALLY?! Is this what it’s come to? You’re going to just NOT SHOW UP? You seriously can’t spare an hour or two of your day? How are you going to explain this to the friend who set us up? How old are we? And WHERE are we – Mars, where you could realistically just DISAPPEAR into the ether and call it a legitimate excuse?!”

BUT – there is good news. The lab rats who unwillingly participated in this study appeared to bounce back from their rut and re-engage their ability to make sound decisions after a four-week vacation.

SOLD.

Screw the business. Screw relationships. Just give me one round-trip ticket to Hawaii/London/Paris, please. That’s right, ONE. UNO. EINS. SOLO. SINGLE. Just give me my laptop and some faraway place where I won’t encounter a current client, a potential client, or someone trying to set me up on a date.

PRONTO.

You know you’re a wino when…

There’s a wine named after you.

OK, and four million other women named Nicole. Ms. Michelle Roach snapped this photo for me today. (Thanks, MKR, for always making me smile. :-))

And here’s the beauty – it turns out that “Nicole” is a Tuscan Sangiovese (one of my faves – especially with tomato-based sauces) from Cosimo Maria Masini. The tasting notes suggest it with meats and cheeses, but I’m telling you…it is mucho delicioso with puttanesca and arrabiata sauces. It’s a very light red, without overpowering tannins or oakiness or other heavy flavors, which is why it’s so fabulous with food. Although frankly, it’s so light, I dig it on its own as well, but people who appreciate the “depth” of a red on its own may not like it solo.

P.S. All these facts/opinions were gleaned from the Sangiovese tasting I hosted in my living room years ago during my NYC “wine club” days…as well as a number of Italian meals since. Yes, I know I need to get on the wagon and start a Seattle wine club because it is SUPER fun and educational.

Buon appetito.

Not slut – idiot

Because posting a photo like this is supposed to, what, get her a gig as a Vatican tour guide?

You know you’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking

I can’t possibly have to spell it out for you.

Suri Cruise terrorizes Beantown

Beware, Bostonians. (Ahem, loyal readers Michelle and Lori.)

Gymboree Satan is stoned on sugar and melting unsuspecting passersby with her Firestarter glare. This most recent altercation occurred at Harvard Square’s Sweet. Though I gotta hand it to her – she’s nailed a mighty fabulous impression of Heath Ledger’s Joker, bleeding Kool-Aid lips and all.

There may be a Hollywood future for her after all. Girl is wicked crazy, bro.

Where do I even start…

This dude said it himself: he had sex with furniture so you don’t have to.

I’ll give you a topic: male sex toys are more “ew factor” than female sex toys.

Double standard?

Discuss.

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Bump watch – male edition

What is happening here?

Pot bellies indeed. Which the NYT claims are the new hipster accessory du jour, along with straw fedoras (seen ’em) and knicker-length shorts (check).

This is as gross as the “anorsexia” craze of the recent past. The unhealthy state was once hip for women and now the guys get their shake at it – except unhealthy for them requires NO effort as opposed to the OCD diligence involved in women starving themselves, counting every calorie, and hurling.

I am beyond tired of trends when it comes to body type. Nothing could be more fucked up. I’m also above-and-beyond fed up with hipsters who claim to be all anti-establishment, when really they’re just following a different regime. One that used to involve skinny jeans, Chuck Taylors, and Williamsburg – but is now centered around, amongst the aforementioned sartorial choices, BEING round. In Fort Greene, where the lemurs are currently migrating.

I weep for the future.

Who’da thunk it?

Um, ME. Like, ALWAYS.

Referring of course to the excerpt below – from the September Elle cover story with Jennifer Aniston. Replace “Jen” with “Nicole and all of her awesome, smart, gorgeous, independent, kick-ass single girlfriends.”

“At this point in her life, Jen is so self-sufficient and accomplished, I wonder if that’s intimidating to men. It would take a man with a strong sense of self to become a partner in such a fully furnished life. Jen and I acknowledge that men, especially, have a primal urge to feel needed and to provide. But ultimately, I say, I think it’s up to the man to find his place in the big life she has created, not up to Jen to play small or act less independent.”

BRAVO.

Dear Ortho-Novum….

I hear The Pill may lead women to choose The Dad vs. The Cad (in essence by suppressing ovulation and therefore any desire whatsoever to knock boots with someone other than Wallace Shawn).

My question is: Does it also prevent women from choosing the emotionally unavailable, socially retarded, mentally ill, and potentially gay?

‘Cause those are my problems.

Your prompt reply is appreciated.

Signed,

Pill-less in Seattle

Best va-jay-jay euphemism since…well, va-jay-jay

Fast forward to 2:50. Mel Sharples, I will never think of you the same way.

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