Today I am linking up with my pal, Neely for "It's OK Thursday!". We all have those things we do or don't do, right?
Let's share!
It's OK....
1. To have 16 or more different shades of pink lipstick--each shade is different ya know--can't part with any of them!
2. To save documentaries and such to your Netflix queue with no intention of watching them. It just makes me feel smarter.
3. If you only wear fancy pants undies--even just to the gym. Gotta feel sassy!
4. If your treadmill is currently a clothing drying rack. No, just me? Hm.
5. To actually like watching sports. I can talk your ear off about cycling and the whole Lance Armstrong debacle--really.
6. If you must purchase all the new beauty products and not use them. Hypothetically, of course--I mean, I use all of mine duh. ;)
7. To like stupid movies. Hi, I wear a Ron Burgundy shirt on a regular basis.
8. If you buy yourself flowers--lessons from Cher Horowitz and all.
9. To whiten your teeth and then drink coffee--it all balances out in the end. Hopefully.
Those are a few of mine, anything y'all got?
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Lies Hollywood Told Us
Even though here at The Bridget Jones Project, we fully believe in happy ever after and in the insane odds of Bridget and Mark, we are still cynics and thus, must lament.
I give you, Lies Hollywood Told Us
1. Bridget gets Mark just as she is. No.
2. Patrick Wilson adores geeky Becky in Morning Glory. Nope, have you seen him? I mean, Becky is played by Rachel McAdams, but, I still have my doubts.
3. Marius and Cossette. Ok, ok, I can bend a little because I had a very Marius and Cosette relationship, but, um, it ended really, really horrible awful jump off a cliff into a vat of molten hot lava bad, so, um, Cameron Mack, do they really live happily ever after? I mean, once he gets over the guilt of all his friends dying and you know, Eponine sacrificing her life for his and all?
4. Jude Law being a successful single father to adorable little girls. The Holiday, you're one of my favorites, but!
5. The cute redheaded princess gets to chose between Patrick Dempsey and James Marsen. I'm looking at YOU, Enchanted.
5b. Or, that said redhead is proposed to by adorable Irishman or any sort of adorable accented man. Leap Year kills me a little bit every single time.
6. That men even remotely resembling Tom Hardy exist via online dating sites. They don't, trust me. Dating really does mean war.
7. Aurelia is proposed to on Christmas and the PM tracks down miss Natalie in the dodgy end--even if Love Actually is my all time favorite non musical movie ever ever, I am fairly certain it has given me a very false sense of reality.
Yet, even with all my ranting, all the nonsense that Hollywood has thrown in my face, I do still believe. I believe in love--real love, in mad, passionate, will grow old and die together love. In silly, stupid, romantic love and happiness. I don't know when and I don't know where, but I know, somehow, someday, it will happen.
Or, I'll adopt like 63 cats. I mean, either or.
Monday, February 18, 2013
The Swede
I should probably tell you about a few of the failed relationships that have led me to this blog, huh? Welp, I'm not quite ready to talk about RC, I'm still in that "want to punch you in the face you big giant asshat" stage, so, um, probably best if we don't talk about him just yet.
Let's discuss the Swede.
Oh my goodness, the Swede. I actually just deleted all his pictures off my phone last week which is so ridiculous because it had been months since we've spoken, but, damn if he wasn't adorable. And no, I will not be sharing said pictures with you. Sorry friends--he is a colossal idiot, but, he deserves his anonymity. I mean, unless you contact me personally and are willing to throw a water balloon at him or something, in which case, let's have a chat. Kidding!
But, in case you're curious, here's what I looked like on our first date.
I mean, he clearly should have fallen madly, head over heels in love with me, right? Yeah, he didn't.
He and I were perfect together and for each other. He's from California (like me!), actually went to my dad's alma mater, surfs, runs marathons and when we met had just finished up Ironman France--I had just run the Madrid Marathon. He's outdoorsy, has a business degree from UCLA, financially stable, the most amazing apartment, musical, has season tickets to the opera..... Shall I continue? I told him I was a singer and on our first date we ended up singing The Phantom of The Opera together while he played his guitar. I can't make this up.
Tall, blonde, tan, blue eyes--solid chance for redheaded babies.
Loves his family--was talking to his brother in SWEDEN when I arrived at the restaurant for our first date.
I was 100% myself with him from day one. He knew about my heartbreak, and I his. He would hold my hand (and kiss me) in public and loved it when I wore flats and was even shorter. He adored my hair and called me "hun".
We had similar interests, knew the same people and just "fit". He'd check on me when out of town for work and send me pictures of my favorite U.S city (Boston) when he had a conference there. I felt like my life had turned a corner, like I had met that someone I'd been looking for all my life. That I'd finally met The One.
Ohhhh, how very, very wrong I was.
He went home for a week to do a triathlon with his brother and then wrap up some client meetings in Los Angeles, where his company is based; we stayed in touch that week, he even checked on me when I was in St. Louis with friends during a tropical storm. I was so anxious to get home and see him. I was even booking a trip to Costa Rica for myself, but made sure to do so at the end of the month so we'd have time together when I got home from Missouri.
When I arrived home, anxious and excited to see him, the first text--yes, I was dumped via text--I received was from him telling me that whilst in California, he had gotten back together with his ex--who, by the way had cheated on him multiple times and left him a broken hearted wreck--and thusly, our relationship was over.
He then proceeded to send me screen shots of his run around the Lake on the route I introduced him to. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Asked if we could remain friends, I said sure--because I am Iris, but, I haven't heard from him since, except one drunken text in October. And now, now, there is the utter irony that he is on Match again and we are a 100% match. And he mentioned his favorite path at the Lake on his profile--you know, the trail that I showed him and WE ran together. This is my actual life, friends. FML.
I can sit here and say all day long that I wish he'd reach out to me again, because I really, really do, I can't imagine a better fit for me than him (well, I can, but, we'll talk about him another time), but do I really want someone who would just up and leave me for a cheating ex? No, no I don't. I realize they had history and he and I only had a few months to go on, but, still, it's pretty chicken shit.
If I could clone him and remove the whole ditching the gorgeous redhead for the cheating bitch part of his brain, don't get me wrong, I totally, totally would.
I cried for a few days and was brutally broken, having just come off the worst heartbreak of my life not long before I met the Swede (the Brit was the worst heartbreak of my life, fyi) but, lucky for me, I went to Costa Rica, came home and met RC.
Well, maybe not so lucky, but, it helped me get over the Swede. Blessings as nightmares?
I'd like to say "wtf, men?!", but I wholly know that if the Brit asked for me back, I'd be there in a heartbeat--in a heartbeat.
GODDAMN IRIS AND EPONINE YOU ARE BOTH ME
So that my friends, is the story of the Swede who threw away an awesome girl and led her to meet RC who also chucked her and now is writing this here blog, so, maybe you guys send him a fruit basket? Preferably laced with something. KIDDING. I think.
Let's discuss the Swede.
Oh my goodness, the Swede. I actually just deleted all his pictures off my phone last week which is so ridiculous because it had been months since we've spoken, but, damn if he wasn't adorable. And no, I will not be sharing said pictures with you. Sorry friends--he is a colossal idiot, but, he deserves his anonymity. I mean, unless you contact me personally and are willing to throw a water balloon at him or something, in which case, let's have a chat. Kidding!
But, in case you're curious, here's what I looked like on our first date.
He and I were perfect together and for each other. He's from California (like me!), actually went to my dad's alma mater, surfs, runs marathons and when we met had just finished up Ironman France--I had just run the Madrid Marathon. He's outdoorsy, has a business degree from UCLA, financially stable, the most amazing apartment, musical, has season tickets to the opera..... Shall I continue? I told him I was a singer and on our first date we ended up singing The Phantom of The Opera together while he played his guitar. I can't make this up.
Tall, blonde, tan, blue eyes--solid chance for redheaded babies.
Loves his family--was talking to his brother in SWEDEN when I arrived at the restaurant for our first date.
I was 100% myself with him from day one. He knew about my heartbreak, and I his. He would hold my hand (and kiss me) in public and loved it when I wore flats and was even shorter. He adored my hair and called me "hun".
We had similar interests, knew the same people and just "fit". He'd check on me when out of town for work and send me pictures of my favorite U.S city (Boston) when he had a conference there. I felt like my life had turned a corner, like I had met that someone I'd been looking for all my life. That I'd finally met The One.
Ohhhh, how very, very wrong I was.
He went home for a week to do a triathlon with his brother and then wrap up some client meetings in Los Angeles, where his company is based; we stayed in touch that week, he even checked on me when I was in St. Louis with friends during a tropical storm. I was so anxious to get home and see him. I was even booking a trip to Costa Rica for myself, but made sure to do so at the end of the month so we'd have time together when I got home from Missouri.
When I arrived home, anxious and excited to see him, the first text--yes, I was dumped via text--I received was from him telling me that whilst in California, he had gotten back together with his ex--who, by the way had cheated on him multiple times and left him a broken hearted wreck--and thusly, our relationship was over.
He then proceeded to send me screen shots of his run around the Lake on the route I introduced him to. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Asked if we could remain friends, I said sure--because I am Iris, but, I haven't heard from him since, except one drunken text in October. And now, now, there is the utter irony that he is on Match again and we are a 100% match. And he mentioned his favorite path at the Lake on his profile--you know, the trail that I showed him and WE ran together. This is my actual life, friends. FML.
I can sit here and say all day long that I wish he'd reach out to me again, because I really, really do, I can't imagine a better fit for me than him (well, I can, but, we'll talk about him another time), but do I really want someone who would just up and leave me for a cheating ex? No, no I don't. I realize they had history and he and I only had a few months to go on, but, still, it's pretty chicken shit.
If I could clone him and remove the whole ditching the gorgeous redhead for the cheating bitch part of his brain, don't get me wrong, I totally, totally would.
I cried for a few days and was brutally broken, having just come off the worst heartbreak of my life not long before I met the Swede (the Brit was the worst heartbreak of my life, fyi) but, lucky for me, I went to Costa Rica, came home and met RC.
Well, maybe not so lucky, but, it helped me get over the Swede. Blessings as nightmares?
I'd like to say "wtf, men?!", but I wholly know that if the Brit asked for me back, I'd be there in a heartbeat--in a heartbeat.
GODDAMN IRIS AND EPONINE YOU ARE BOTH ME
So that my friends, is the story of the Swede who threw away an awesome girl and led her to meet RC who also chucked her and now is writing this here blog, so, maybe you guys send him a fruit basket? Preferably laced with something. KIDDING. I think.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Pretty is as pretty does
And come on, he's just too pretty.
Let's all have a swoon, shall we?
Eddie Redmayne, my boyfriend.
Oh, and this is my husband, duh.
LOOK, BOTH OF THEM TOGETHER I CAN'T EVEN I DIE
I'm tellin' ya, men are just so much better NOT in America. Miss Jones had that figured out for sure.
Let's all have a swoon, shall we?
Oh, and this is my husband, duh.
LOOK, BOTH OF THEM TOGETHER I CAN'T EVEN I DIE
I'm tellin' ya, men are just so much better NOT in America. Miss Jones had that figured out for sure.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Grumpy Valentine's
Happy Valentine's Day, or, as I am calling it Eat Our Feelings Day 2013. Seriously, have you had those frosted sugar cookies from Target? My feelings taste damn good y'all.
Anywhoodle. So, obviously, I am alone on Valentine's Day, which is a dumb holiday and I'm usually annoyed by it when I have someone, but, you know, let's just all bitch and agree that it's ok to do so, yeah?
Doesn't help that I got dumped a week ago. A week ago exactly. A week before Valentine's Day, a week and two days before my ex gets married. And then the fucker kept texting me even though on Sunday he updated his Match profile after saying he was taking a break from dating (which is why he dumped me. Allegedly). FUCKWIT.
Oh, his name is RC. That might be helpful information moving forward.
No, I didn't think he was The One, that he was my Mr. Darcy, but, turns out, I was in love with him and I miss him terribly.Would have been nice to actually been able to call him my boyfriend for a while, ya know.
I'm 0 for 3 right now. Coach, you probably shouldn't put me in.
The last two before RC (the Swede and the Brit respectively), I did think were The One, my Mr. Darcy, my happily ever after on both occasions. They weren't. Luckily, The Brit and I have managed to find a way to be friends (after a lot of fighting, tears and throwing things, I should add), and much like RC (even though I want to cut him) we agree that we love each other but just can't be together. Which is all lovely and good and all, but, I just want someone to love me AND want to be with me.
Harder than it sounds (that's what she said).
So, my dear, sweet lovelies, let us pour a Diet Coke, or a -tini, eat some cookies and be our own Valentine's!
Personally, I'm pretending this man is mine....
xoxo
Anywhoodle. So, obviously, I am alone on Valentine's Day, which is a dumb holiday and I'm usually annoyed by it when I have someone, but, you know, let's just all bitch and agree that it's ok to do so, yeah?
Doesn't help that I got dumped a week ago. A week ago exactly. A week before Valentine's Day, a week and two days before my ex gets married. And then the fucker kept texting me even though on Sunday he updated his Match profile after saying he was taking a break from dating (which is why he dumped me. Allegedly). FUCKWIT.
Oh, his name is RC. That might be helpful information moving forward.
No, I didn't think he was The One, that he was my Mr. Darcy, but, turns out, I was in love with him and I miss him terribly.Would have been nice to actually been able to call him my boyfriend for a while, ya know.
I'm 0 for 3 right now. Coach, you probably shouldn't put me in.
The last two before RC (the Swede and the Brit respectively), I did think were The One, my Mr. Darcy, my happily ever after on both occasions. They weren't. Luckily, The Brit and I have managed to find a way to be friends (after a lot of fighting, tears and throwing things, I should add), and much like RC (even though I want to cut him) we agree that we love each other but just can't be together. Which is all lovely and good and all, but, I just want someone to love me AND want to be with me.
Harder than it sounds (that's what she said).
So, my dear, sweet lovelies, let us pour a Diet Coke, or a -tini, eat some cookies and be our own Valentine's!
Personally, I'm pretending this man is mine....
xoxo
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Forever Iris
The Holiday is one of my favorite movies. I think it's just so sweet and I am a total sucker for Jude Law--and Kate Winslet can do no wrong in my book. And, clearly, England, duh.
However, sometimes it's very hard for me to watch--I am Iris.
"And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space! Yes, you are looking at one such individual. And I have willingly loved that man for over three miserable years! The absolute worst years of my life! The worst Christmas', the worst Birthday's, New Years Eve's brought in by tears and valium. These years that I have been in love have been the darkest days of my life. All because I've been cursed by being in love with a man who does not and will not love me back."-- Iris
All the men in my life tend to end up as my Jasper Bloom. I can't say no, I am too nice, I will always go back, I will bend over backwards, I will send you an opening night care package, a "good luck on your interview!" card, I will allow you to flirt with me and break my heart all over again--I will cry myself to sleep at night--and I will do it again and again if he asks me to. You know, the actual definition of insanity and all. Me, I'm it. I'm insane.
I have this problem where if I ever loved you even for a second, I cannot remove you from my life. So, we stay friends and usually, my little heart holds onto some minuscule little microcosm of hope that things will change, and you will remember what We had and it will be Just Like It Always Was Only Better. Spoiler alert, it doesn't happen.
"Because you're hoping you're wrong. And every time she does something that tells you she's no good, you ignore it. And every time she comes through and suprises you, she wins you over, and you lose that argument with yourself, that she's not for you."--Iris
And so, I am forver Iris. I am the friend, the supporter, the cheerleader even though you ripped my heart out--I can forgive you because guess what? I'm the nicest person you'll ever meet.
It's a real goddamn problem.
Iris: Well, I just wanted to get away from all the people I see all the time!... Well, not all the people... one person. I wanted to get away from one... guy. An ex-boyfriend who just got engaged and forgot to tell me. Arthur: So, he's a schmuck. Iris: As a matter of fact, he is... a huge schmuck. How did you know? Arthur: He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend. Iris: You're so right. You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for god's sake! Arthur, I've been going to a therapist for three years, and she's never explained anything to me that well. That was brilliant. Brutal, but brilliant.
I already made a No Schmucks in 2013 rule, but, so far, I have broken that rule (in my defense, we started dating in 2012 and I didn't foresee him being a schmuck) (I mean, I should have known).
Maybe I aim for No Schmucks in 2016? 2014 just seems too ambitious ya know?
Right, so, Arthur's lesson was to be the leading lady in her life, how do we do that? How do I, little miss ready to sell her soul and left arm for love, figure out how to be a leading lady? I have no idea, but, I imagine it involves learning to say no to all the Jasper Bloom's of the world and to say yes to what I want. Weird thought.
So, what do I want? Right now, I want to stay up late reading home decor blogs and watching Skyfall in my flannel jammies. What of it?
Alright my leading ladies, what do y'all want to do?
Monday, February 11, 2013
Welcome!
So, hi!
I am starting this blog on request of my friend Jenn (hi, Jenn!), I am going to take a stab at documenting the shitshow that is my dating or (lack of) love life. Y'all are welcome in advance.
Mostly, if you have a relationship, please take a moment to thank your lucky stars and give that person a big huge movie style kiss, cause for the rest of us? Ain't gonna happen.
Despite my no longer spring chicken age, I've yet to find The One. I thought I did on several occasions, but, as we all know, life has a funny way of kicking you in the gut.
So, why am I single? Hell if I would know. Of course, I am fully aware that I am by no means perfect--far from it--but, I like to think I'm something of a catch. There are just literally no fishermen left in this world. Like, at all.
Despite my educated, successful, funny, loves stupid movies and all animals, Pure Barre instructor, yogi, redheaded self, I am, at the end of the day, the man repeller (maybe that should be the title of this blog?). And that, my friends, is why we are here. To document the men I repel (I have plenty of them!), to laugh at the stories and cry over broken hearts.
So, grab a drink (preferably something that ends in "-tini" and buckle up, it's going to be an interesting ride!
I am starting this blog on request of my friend Jenn (hi, Jenn!), I am going to take a stab at documenting the shitshow that is my dating or (lack of) love life. Y'all are welcome in advance.
Mostly, if you have a relationship, please take a moment to thank your lucky stars and give that person a big huge movie style kiss, cause for the rest of us? Ain't gonna happen.
Despite my no longer spring chicken age, I've yet to find The One. I thought I did on several occasions, but, as we all know, life has a funny way of kicking you in the gut.
So, why am I single? Hell if I would know. Of course, I am fully aware that I am by no means perfect--far from it--but, I like to think I'm something of a catch. There are just literally no fishermen left in this world. Like, at all.
Despite my educated, successful, funny, loves stupid movies and all animals, Pure Barre instructor, yogi, redheaded self, I am, at the end of the day, the man repeller (maybe that should be the title of this blog?). And that, my friends, is why we are here. To document the men I repel (I have plenty of them!), to laugh at the stories and cry over broken hearts.
So, grab a drink (preferably something that ends in "-tini" and buckle up, it's going to be an interesting ride!
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