Gina's RantSpot

New Blog!

I'm trying a new blog format, so please visit my new location: http://theginaspot.wordpress.com. THANKS!!!

Labels: Life stuff

OOPS!!!

My weekly reminder has the wrong URL. If you're looking for the current column, try this link instead. SORRY!!!!

Labels: New column

It's Friday . . . FINALLY!

This has been the longest week. I don't know why, but it seems to have lasted 11 days.

This week's column is a topic that's near and dear to my heart. Although it's written to women, it can really be about anyone who has engaged in cheating with another person. To clarify -- if you've ever willingly become involved with a person who is married/taken/etc., this column should give you some food for thought.

Personally, I've always refused to deal with men who are taken. I've done it on accident -- where I wasn't apprised of the situation -- and it completely pissed me off. I broke it off with one guy after noticing a lot of odd behavior -- phone calls only during certain times of the day; an inability to commit to a schedule. Months later, I found out that he was married. Not separated, mind you, but married and living in the house with his wife.

When I found out, I wanted to tell her. I had located his actual home #, and was really close to giving her a call.

In another case, I learned out that a boyfriend was cheating on me with a married woman. I found a few incriminating pictures, and was really tempted to send them to her husband.

I know . . . those are narc moves, but I will admit that I'm not above being a narc. I might still, one day, make that call, or send those pictures because I would want someone to pull my coat-tail if something shady were happening in my relationship. But, as usual, I digress . . .

All in my life seems to be going well, so I don't think I'll be having any of those problems.

On another note, I must share an important quote from my co-worker about the Virginia Tech tragedy: "I don't think that guy had any mental problems at all. I think he was just an asshole." Yeah, I would say that killing 33 people is an asshole-ish move.

After the column

I kind of like how Oprah has the "After the Show" show on Oxygen, which is an extended, less time-constrained version of the show. I think I need to have something like After the Column, just to explain things that can't be explained in my 650-word limit (which often feels more like 550 words, but that's a different story altogether).

This week's column, which I titled "Liar Liar," although the headline in RedEye reads: "There's nothing worse than a Pinnochio" is all about liars -- who they are, why they lie, how to read the warning signs. Keep in mind that, although this column is written from a female perspective, there's no question that women can also be big liars. Colossal, in fact. Perhaps I'm only giving this disclaimer because I get the occasional accusation that I pick on men.

The other day, I got an e-mail from a reader who was a bit ticked off about my "If" column -- all about how I don't want to date anyone else and glamourize how great they would be IF . . . Generally, the people that are pissed about my columns are men -- who usually lambaste me for being too hard on men, and highlighting their flaws. They usually accuse me of doing something to elicit the very behavior that I expose. And hey . . . maybe I do . . . I'm not above admitting that.

Here's a sample of this wonderfully written complaint:

"DEAR MISS GINA B.

I READ YOU'RE COLUMN VERY OFTEN IN THE RED EYE NEWSPAPER.
AND IT SEEMS AS IF YOU FOCUS SO MUCH ON THE FLAWS AND IMPERFFECTIONS OF MEN
WE ONLY SAY WE ARE MEN WE NEVER SAID WE WERE PERFECT MEN.
. . . BUT TRUST ME SWEETIE THEIR ARE CATEGORIES THAT YOU FALL VERY SHORT IN TOO.
NOTHING MOTIVATES OR DRIVES A MAN LIKE A WOMAN HE REALLY WANTS TO BE WITH
. . . PERHAPS YOU WERE NOT ALL THAT EITHER IF IT DIDN'T COME OUT WHILE HE WAS WITH
YOU. BUT THEN AGAIN YOU ONLY TALK ABOUT YOU'RE DISSATISFACTION WITH A GUY AND
WHERE HE FALLS SHORT.AS IF YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE IN THE RELATIONSHIP
SOME WOMEN ARE IN A VERY HEATED ROMACE WITH THEIRSELVES.
SO IT'S REALLY NO ROOM FOR A GUY GOOD OR SUB-PAR. . . . IT'S OBVIOUS YOU COULD USE SOME RE-SCHOOLING
AND RE-TOOLING YOURESELF, IN THE G-SPOT WHEN IT COMES TO MEN BABYDOLL."

So many things to comment on here.

My first thought was: WTF are you talking about?

My second thought was: Did he READ the entire column?

My third thought was: Yeah . . . God forbid that we actually have expectations of people we date.

My fourth thought: Spell check, dammit!

And finally: Don't call me babydoll! Sheesh!

There were more thoughts, of course, but I've condensed them so that I don't drive you all away with my pointless streams of conscious. If I haven't already.

I responded, as I try to respond to most letters that I receive, although my response doesn't hold a candle to my friend Jen's artistic adaptation of his letter:

Labels: New column

With much trepidation . . .

I'm starting to watch the new episode of The Bachelor.

I find it interesting, and incredibly unrealistic that every single one of these women is irresistably attracted to this guy. That's always been the interesting thing about all of the Bachelors. Some of them honestly weren't cute. In fact, some of them would have problems getting dates on their own, and should feel lucky to be immersed in a room full of somewhat attractive women who are all vying for their attention. Only in this situation would women consider a date with the Bachelor to be an "opportunity." Under normal circumstances, he might be the guy they're blowing off, or the one who calls too much.

This particular Bachelor -- Andy -- is a pair of bifocals and a pocket protector away from being a complete geek. And he certainly has large teeth. Or maybe he has a small mouth. Or maybe he has a pinhead and normal sized teeth. Whatever. He looks a bit odd to me.

You be the judge . . .

Tonight, the girls had a little hot tub party (and they showed up in their bikini's and strappy sandals. Classy!) They are also getting into a good heathy physical competition for Da Batch.

Regardless of what he looks like, so far this dude's a pretty horny guy. He's trying to wrap his lips around as many contestants as possible. I'm going to rename this show "The Bachelor -- An Officer and His Genitals."

Labels: Reality TV

What's the deal with TMI today?

I don't know whether it's because of Good Friday, or the fact that people are pissed off that it's so cold in Chicago, but I've received two overshares that I would prefer to never have heard.

One of my colleagues has a new beau. It's a burgeoning LDR and he made his first visit yesterday. I asked her how the visit is going. She smiled and said "I've never been more sore in my life."

TMI!!!!! And thanks for the visual!

Just when I'd stopped the wave of nausea from the first overshare, I called my accountant. We were supposed to have met the other day, but he never called. He apologized and said "well, I've been having problems with my prostate. You know how that goes."

NO! I don't! And I don't want to.

I don't think I have the intestinal fortitude to take much more of this.

New column, etc.

First of all, there's a new column today. For those who grad RedEye, it's on page 35. For others, it can be found right here.

On another note, lately I find myself obsessed with tasers. What a great protective device! You can get the bad guy from up to 15 feet away. There's no mess . . . no blood to clean up, and the best part is that you're not doing any felonious, irreparable damage -- unless you want to. Much better than my machetes.

So, my friend Kate and I were having the taser conversation over dinner at North Side the other night, and we decided that we should get tasers, and wondered if they came in different colors -- not just the taser itself, but the LED emitted. Wouldn't it be cool if I could get a purple one? She suggested the Barbie Taser. I was thinking that a Bratz taser would be more appropriate. Those Bratz dolls need tasers to protect themselves from their patrons once they climb down from the pole. (Granted, Kate and I get very silly when we're together) We were pondering the purchase of a protective taser, and I began to wonder if they were, indeed, legal. Lo and behold, there was a table full of cops right behind us.

Kate double-dog-dared me to ask the cops about the tasers, and add our silly question about color choices. And because I have no shame, I sauntered over to the table and asked if they minded if I asked them a few questions. I didn't really wait for an answer -- just started in.

It went something like this:

Gina: "Hi! Can I ask you guys a question? Are tasers legal?"

Young Hispanic Cop: "Tasers?"

Gina: "Yeah . . . those things you use to shock . . . "

YHC: "I know what a taser is. Why do you want one?"

Gina: "Well, in case anyone breaks into my house. I can use it."

Young Black Cop: "I don't think tasers are legal. Why don't you just lock your door?"

Gina: "Yeah, because criminals always avoid the locked doors when going for a leisurely rape." [Chicago's finest . . . I swear!]

YBC: "Well, they're illegal."

Gina: "So . . . let me get this straight . . . if someone breaks into MY house, it is not within my rights to taser the living shit out of them?"

YHC: "You might be able to get away with it. But I wouldn't suggest it."

Older White Cop: [Puts down his cigarette -- although I thought the smoking ban was in effect, but I digress] "Hell . . . why don'tcha just get an AK 47 and blow the hell out of the guy while you're at it?"

Gina: "Aren't those bulky? The taser is so compact, and kind of cute."

[Laughter -- particularly from Kate, behind me]

YBC: "I suggest you lock your door and get a man."

Gina: "What does having a man have to do with anything? What if he's not around all the time?"

YBC: "Why are you so worried about someone breaking in? Don't you have a security system?" [master of the obvious, this one]

Gina: "Yes, but again, what's the harm in me having home protection? I would think a taser is much better than using my machete."

YHC: "You have a machete?"

Gina: "Yeah, why? Two, actually. Is that not legal either?"

OWC: "Jesus Christ! You're violent!"

Gina: "NO . . . just protective. And why would my machete not be legal. I got it at Home Depot."

OWC: "There's a lot of illegal shit at Home Depot."

YHC: "If you're using it for gardening, it's not illegal, but for anything else, it's illegal."

Gina: "So, if someone breaks in, and I happen to use my gardening tools as defense, that's okay."

YHC: [confused look -- looks around at fellow cops] "Yeah. I think so."

I hope to God he never has to take the witness stand. In the meantime, I've found a link to a taser "store" -- THIS is what I'm talking about. And Kate, look, it comes in pink!

I think I'm going to spend some time this weekend looking for "illegal shit" at Home Depot.

Oh, and Happy Easter. For all of you who gave up drinking for lent -- don't overdo it.

It's about time, right?

Here's what sucks . . . when I'm out, on the bus, driving, at work, etc., I can think of a million and six things to blog about. What happens when I actually get to a (working) computer? That's right . . . I forget.

Let me jump right in and discuss The Bachelor, because it's top of mind, and I'm pissed that I can't salvage the 1.5 hours that I spent watching it (or the hours that I will spend watching in the future because it's a TRAIN WRECK).

I pondered adding it to my TiVo roster, and in the end I caved because my friend Ruth would be heartbroken. One of the reasons that we look forward to reading group is so that we can discuss our reality TV show addictions. But, as usual, I digress . . .

So . . . The Bachelor. The theme is Officer and Gentleman where it features a just-turned-30-year-old doctor who was in the military. Another reason to love TiVo is that I could fast forward over frame after frame of said bachelor in his dress uniforms and helping patients. I got right to the good part -- when the women began to arrive.

And yes, I'm going to say it . . . where in the hell did they find all of those classless hoes? Seriously, I don't think I could handle seeing one more bleached blonde overly tanned girl in a tacky evening gown, complete with flip flops (nope, not kidding) and overstated, gaudy jewelry. It was a total spectacle - a veritable dog and pony show. Here are the highlights:

- The catty blonde who was complaining that she didn't get the first impression rose (hint: not getting the first impression rose might mean that he wasn't excited about your hair by Clairol Kindness and skin by Coach)

- The asian woman who admitted that she wasn't the prettiest girl in the room, and decided to make herself stand out by singing The National Anthem.

- The girl who had the same birthday as the bachelor. As it turned out, the premiere show fell on his (and her) birthday, and this particular chick thought that she would get a celebratory rose (and probably a little bit of officer nookie) by announcing it was her birthday.

- The overserved southern "belle" (I believe her name was something unfortunate, like Blakeney) who fell off of her barstool.

- The chick in the pink who displayed her agility by doing a back handspring -- in a floor length dress.

- The brute who challenged him to a push-up competition.

- My personal fave (so much so that I remember her name) was Lindsay. She's racially unidentifiable, and if she's part black, she proves my theory that there's always one crazy black woman on every reality show. She got rip-roaring drunk, and, while the Bachelor was being entertained by the rest of the Miss America wannabes, decided to make him a cake. There were no eggs, so she and a fellow dimwit opted to substitute tequila. Not kidding. I couldn't make it up this good. Needless to say, the cake was lopsided, malformed and appeared to be toxic, by the time they brought it out. It was, like, the Elephant Cake. Lindsay also couldn't control her laughter as Miss Southern Belle toppled off of her barstool, and almost started a fight. THEN, as if she hadn't amply embarassed her parents, she walked out when it was discovered that he didn't give her a rose (surprise, surprise). She began to curse as the other losers calmed her down. "Fuck that," she exclaimed daintily, and "fuck him! He's short with a big head."

Priceless! They ought to change the name of this show from 'The Bachelor' to 'Ho Survivor.' It would be infinitely more interesting.

Labels: Reality TV

The dichotomy of the day -- or entire weekend

This weekend was okay, yet it sucked. Today was good, yet it sucked, too.

First, the sucky part of yesterday was that I got rear-ended . . . AGAIN! WTF??? If any regular readers recall, I was rear-ended by a cab driver about a month ago. Yesterday, my little run-in was with a BMW-driving middle-aged "yuppie" (as opposed to the 22-year-old cab driving person with the undetectable country of origin who's first name was the same as his last). He had two kids in the back seat. One of them was holding a balloon, and apparently he was so rattled by their bickering that he rammed into me. The only good part about my procrastination is that I hadn't yet fixed the car from the first accident. I don't think he furthered any of the incumbent damage, but I did have a Tylenol-resistant headache for the rest of the night which lingered into today.

Saw The Namesake last night. It's a movie based on the book by Pulitzer prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri. I was disappointed in the complete omission of certain plot lines, and the lack of character development in others. The good news is that it was a good look into Bengali culture -- something we don't often see in mainstream America.

Woke up earlier than anticipated today. Went to bed extremely late last night for no real reason at all. I guess I had things on my mind -- or maybe it was because I was engrossed in an episode of Dirt. I digress . . .

I woke up very early, and was extremely happy to realize that the temperature was in the 70s and rising. In the spirit of carpe diem, I bounced up, did some work around the house that included a ridiculous amount of laundry, cleaning out the fridge and amassing a bunch of outdated clothing for a Salvation Army trip. I went to my fave breakfast spot. All of this happened before 1:00.

The day went downhill from there. And I need to vent this, so pardon me . . . although this is my rant spot, after all.

And, without getting into ridiculous detail, let me just say that I'm a time person. I'm a stickler for time, and I'm typically prompt if not early for everything. This trait was embedded in my personality by my father, who taught me that being late gives the perception that I have no respect for the time of the person who is left waiting for me. As a result, I have expectations that others will be on time.

Having said that, let's just say that someone was late for something that I'd planned, and I was visibly (and audibly) upset. And you know what? At that point, all he had to do was to apologize, and I would have calmed down and we could have gone on with our day.

But did that happen? No.

Instead, he got somewhat sarcastic with me -- as though I'm supposed to be happy about him being late (and if not happy, I should certainly shut up about it) -- and then proceeded to get mad at ME for getting mad at HIM for being late. WTF??? I was curious as why he gets to be the mad one. So . . . the net result was that neither one of us truly enjoyed ourselves, and the evening that I envisioned was WAY different than what ensued.

And, for the record, I'm STILL shitty about it. Not so much about the lateness, but because of the fact that something so ridiculous will probably be a 3 day argument. Happy fucking Sunday.

Labels: Life stuff