Why I Shouldn't Marry an Investment Banker/ Comment that Always Makes Me Uncomfortable

Two Investment stand in front of my desk catching up.

IB 1 asks IB2 how many children he has.

"3 with one on the way! Except number 4 was QUITE.... A .... SURPRISE."

Elbowing and chuckling ensues.

I am...

I am an actress.

Today I became an officially certified yoga teacher.



OOOPS! Now I'm a cliche!

Aggravated, but Amused Suggestion

Information has come out about my old boss, a boss that is NO longer mine that has still managed to piss me off today.

I walked back to my desk after finding out the information and I was pretty angry, but also rather amused at the ridiculousness that continues to unfold re: my "accidental firing."

I sat there, thinking. There was nothing to do about the situation. The powers that be had spoken and the powers that wanted it to be a different way had also spoken. So now, all I could do was make myself feel even better that the powers that wanted it to be a different way had managed to make me, without even trying. (I love those powers!)

SO.

After awhile, I discovered a solution for my amused anger towards this woman and I'm going to share it with you.

If you're ever mad at your boss or your old boss.....


LOOK THEIR CHILDREN UP ON MYSPACE.


No no! Please! It was my pleasure to suggest it.

Things that have come to fruition for me this past weekend:

When at a bar, no matter which one, no matter what is happening, no matter how drunk or not drunk the crowd is, no matter who is there,

EVERYBODY drops EVERYTHING when Kelly Clarkson comes on.

Babes in Movieland

I love little babies. LOVE EM. See them in the street in the strollers and I coo.

Also I love celebrity gossip. It's fun. I check gawker.com several times in a day! (In fact I'm gonna link to it in just a second!)

HOWEVER I don't understand this. Because although all babies don't look EXACLTY alike.... they kind of do. This is a level of celebrity stalkerdom that I cannot relate to.

Chelsea Styles

I'd never been a fan of the ironic clothing option. The gas station attendant jacket with the name Gus. The bowling shirt with the name Cindy. etc etc. But the other night just northwest of Union Square I saw one I would never have thought I'd see....

The fireman jacket with the name Peter.

Ok, I lied it didn't say Peter, but there was a man, on the edge of Chelsea and he WAS wearing jeans and a firemans jacket- in a fashionable ironic way. I COULD TELL.

I flinched when I saw it. I don' think we're ready for that yet. Especially in Chelsea!

And mostly it's also not worth it because it's NOT fashionable!

Re-hired!

I am back at my old job today temporarily. This is the job that I was "fired" from. I haven't really clarified this on this blog but I was told over a weekend, in a phone call from my temp agency that I wouldn' be needed any more at my job. A job that, the past Friday, my boss had told me I was "going above and beyond the call of duty for. Great job Helen. You are so nice and I appreciate your hard work." I had been surprised that she said this, not because I hadn't been doing a good job, but because she sort of had a reputation around the office of not noticing people's efforts for her.

Then I was told not to return. And then she told me when I spoke to her on Monday that it had been a "complete mistake. Totally lack of communication. HUGE shock" to her. All of which I believe. But I'm still not rehired to that position and there's a confused looking girl sitting at my desk. My old boss sort of admitted that this was because she would look like an asshole if I reappeared at my desk.

I am on the other side of the floor now. I hope she looks like an asshole anyway.

Now, today, on my first day back, I am more unsurprised than ever that I was "accidently fired," as the people in these parts refer to it. This morning proved to me that if there was any company that would fire you by accident, it would be this one.

At about 10:30 this morning, the temp coordinator showed up at my desk professing to have been "looking all over for me." I checked my cell phone which had been on vibrate, as it is when I'm working, and the temp agency had left me not one but two messages asking "Where are you? She's looking all over for you, we assume you're on the caught on the subway. Where are you though?"

At my desk. At the desk I was supposed to be at at 9AM, but to which I showed up to at 8:45. The desk which I hadn't moved from since then.

If you were looking for someone in an office wouldn't the first place you looked be their desk? The first place to call- wouldn't it be the phone on the desk?

I could have been fired again!

Days of our Lives

The other day one of my friends asked me and another friend if we could remember the best and worst day of our lives. It was difficult to pin down just one day for both.

But then we all figured out our worst days but our best day was difficult. I've had some great days! I figured that my best day was probably not a day I could even remember because it was taken in stride in between all the other great days.

But I think I remember one of the best days. It was today. But years ago.

It's scary though to think that your best days could become reason for your worst day/s. Mine did. That's kind of the deal though. That's what makes it your worst day. That's what makes it your best day. Wonderful and high stakes.

Today, Monday April 17th, 2006 is not one of my best days. It's not one of my worst days. It's a day I'm taking in stride.

On this holiday I am thankful for.....

Wrong holiday Green!

But I am thankful for Myspace and Friendster. They have prevented me from going out on a date with someone who lists their sexuality as "bisexual."

I have no problems with bisexuals but I am not going to DATE one. I'VE GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS MAN!

Coming to Terms

I think people who know me would say I'm semi tough compared to the way I look. Maybe if I looked different you'd expect me to be this way, but I think people just expect me to be meek, so when I'm not it perhaps comes off as tough.

There are these things about yourself that you cling to. You both love it and hate it about yourself. This is one of mine. I've been told it since I was little.

Over the past few months though I think my tough, or whatever it should be called has gradually but severely decreased. I feel weak a lot.

This morning I started crying on the 1 train.

I was on my way to LI to celebrate Easter. Something I thought of calling in sick to. Considered wearing my pastel green pants and otherwise coifed Easter outfit and taking it to the church across the street from my apartment. Surround myself by people I'm supposed to be but am not. I had considered after church going to Zabars and treating myself to some Jewish food. Utterly not Easterly. Then maybe going to the Russian Baths with some friends who are in town. But I did not. And when I got outside I was glad that that was not the choice I had made. I saw these girls, coiffed, leaning into their boyfriends/ fiances/ husbands, one hand on his stomach, underneath his suit jacket, once hand on their Starbucks. Waiting for church to begin across the street. I was glad I was not going to be there. I was happy to see them smiling. I was. But glad I would not witness any more of it. Because last year I was them. A version of them. My own version of them. And I loved that. I thought the intention was to grown into different versions of that. And now I am not.

But it was a beautiful day and it made me happy that someone was in that world that I so crave to be back in. I was happy it was so beautiful out and I was happy to be wearing pants that fit me so nicely.

When I got to the subway station I consciencely thought "I'm glad I didn't call in sick to Easter." I walked down the steps and looked at the woman in the booth, pointed to my bags that could not fit through the turnstile and she said "Swipe, then go through the doors." I did, just in time to step on the train. And then I must have accidently pressed something or maybe she hadn't pressed the button yet because alarms starting going off. But the train was there and I was one foot on it and I wasn't going to go back- I did make a face, like "Oops, what the hell happened?". But I had my Metrocard in hand and I had swiped it, so whatever.

And then my bag was thrust forward which tipped my body over and into a pole. I looked behind me at what had happened and I saw this thuggish looking man and he said "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID! She's frontin', look at this bitch frontin."

I sat down and sort fo breathlessly held up my Metrocard. I couldn't speak though, it seemed like the back of my throat was closed. "Unlimited, I woudln't have....." but I dont' think it even came out. He had pushed me into a pole.

For those who don't know me I am small girl. I'm not even 5'2 and I'm not sure if I weigh more than a hundred pounds. I am just getting smaller. In several ways.

I looked around. Everyone looked straight ahead. I was kind of scared. I was alone and had no defense. My pepper spray was in my bag and although I wouldn't use it unless I had to, I wanted it. He started again. "She knows what she did. Don't make faces when you walk in. You know what you did. Don't act all like you don't"

I know what he thought I did. I know I did not want to cry. I was trying so hard not to. Trying not to give this guy any sort of satisfaction. A few months ago I don't think my throat would have done that. But now I feel weak. Defenseless. Like I cannot win any battles no matter what.

The gay couple next to me did not do anything. They did not look at me sympathetically. Did they not believe me? The thirty something man in the orange shirt across from me did not make eye contact with me. Even after the scary guy got off. Then this other thugish guy looked at me "Are you OK?" I thought he had been a cohort. Someone who thought I was "frontin'." "I'm OK. It's just....." my words stayed trapped in my throat, "weird."

And I started to cry. Right there on the 1 train. Silently. Clearly trying not to.

I'm still glad that I did not call in sick to Easter I think. But now I know. Something I don't know if I wanted to know. I've lost some of what I've clung to.

When I talked to my dad a few minutes later he said "That's what happens when you travel alone Helen."

A few months ago, on Christmas Eve I had a similar incident with my friend Jen at this station. (What's with the holidays and the 79th Street station?) Last time I kind of defended myself. Kind of. A few years ago some woman yelled at me on a train. I retorted something semi-witty, defending myself, but safely. That time I was not alone. My downstairs neighbor once threw a cigarette at me. I was freaked out but I defended myself safely again. One time a man grabbed my ass in front of the Port Authority. I followed him and defended myself. I got him arrested.

I was alone some of these times. But I was not alone. This time I was alone. Completely alone.

Easter is my favorite holiday. I was told by someone once, not long ago that I would never have to spend another holiday alone. But look at this. I didn't call in sick on Easter. As weak as I feel, I showed up. But some people have called in sick on me

Why I Shouldn't Marry an Investment Banker

Last night my roomate and I decided to torture some Investment Banker types at a bar. Talk to them in a taunting kinda way regarding their jobs, probable lack of personality, frat boy mentality etc etc.

Well, apparently they LOVE this. Because as soon as I ADMITTED, in my drunken state to one of the guys that "We think it's funny that you're investment bankers."

He came really close to me and said "Why? Because you want to date rich guys?"

"I didn't say I wanted to date one I said I think it's funny. It WOULD be funny if I did date one. But IB are typically kind of douchey." I ALMOST admitted to this blog.

A few minutes later he asked me for my number.

IBs like chicks who call them douchey.

The Rules

Do you ever feel like there was a seminar to teach people the rules about life and you weren't given an invitation?

I feel that way a lot lately.

Or that I went to a seminar, but not the right one for this world. I've felt that way before in my life but I got over it and realized that whatever I missed in the seminar I could learn as I go. BUT IF EVERYONE IS NOT GOING BY THE SAME RULES THAT I WAS TAUGHT IT'S KIND OF UNFAIR MAN!

Because my rules were much stricter. But believe me, they lead to better things. In my seminar I was taught that when you say something mean it. And follow it BECAUSE you meant. And it works out REALLY well that way! Hoorah! Because if everyone is doing it, they you can trust people! And yourself!Hoorah! Hoorah! And that when things get tangeled and you're given the opportunity to do so, you untangle them! You deal with them. You dont' run away! And that if you're unhappy and you know how to make yourself happy (in a healthy way), you do it. You don't linger in hell. You deserve it- to enjoy the world. Especially in the spring time! And when you fuck up, you admit it and don't do it again. You don't just accept it and suffer. And you allow yourself to be afraid of consequences because there will and should be some- so that you don't screw up again. And when you love someone say it, right then, out loud. Actually I learned that last one from "My Best Friends Wedding," but maybe they played that as an informational at my seminar.

Now I feel like my seminar really mislead me because NO ONE IS GOING BY THESE RULES! They are breaking them left and right with no consequences. However, I'm still a fan of what they taught me and I hope someday everyone gets an e-mail updating us all that we're switching over to the rules "from the seminar Helen Green attended."

I got a bad haircut the other day and I have to live with it now. When we make mistakes that we aren't fixing we should have to have a bad haircut to show for it. I'm suggesting that as an addendum.

I'm an acting Actress! An actress who can act!

An agent just left me a message on my v-mail as follows:

"Hey Helen, I have an audition for you for a TV Movie. It's not a huge part, but it's a nice scene. You're supposed to be between 17 and 19 years old in the scene. They ARE looking for someone who is good with lines. So.... I think it'd be great for you."

As opposed to his other actor clients who aren't good with lines?

Smells like Helen's Spirit

I don't sweat a lot.

It's true. It's not like a girl saying she doesn't defocate or something. (Ew. Gross. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm not one of those girls who talks about poop to confirm she's funny and "just one of the guys." Ew. Annoying. Gross. I am so not.)

I just DON'T sweat a lot! For realsies. I'm sure I could give you a list of people who could confirm it- or at least atest to rarely seeing me sweat.

But sometimes I sweat. And sometimes when I take really hard core yoga classes I sweat. And when I sweat it smells like......

A freshly diapered newborn baby!!!!!

I can't think of any other way to describe it. Maybe like freshly baked, buttered muffins. But NO, more like a freshly diapered newborn baby.

This isn't a lie to make me seem angelic, it's true. It's happened several times.

After I left yoga the other night smelling like a baby, I really hoped to run into someone so that they could smell me and think "she smells FABULOUS after yoga, she must be other-worldly!" But I didn't. Unlucky you.

Katie is a leavin'!

Sadness. I really like the current Today show dynamic and I, for some reason have always had ill feelings towards CBS. (WTF? What teenage girl has ill feelings towards a network? For some reason I did.

15 yr old Helen: Oh that show's good?
15 yr old Friend: Yeah I really like it- you'd like it
Helen: Cool I'll watch, when and where?
Friend: Channel 2 (NY CBS)
Helen: Oh, don't bother going any further, I don't do CBS)

In high school when I got a column in the local Long Island paper they printed an article and interview about me before it started. My best friend's mother, Judy, thought it was hysterical/ disturbing that when they asked me what I wanted to be when I was older I said "a talking head." She tried to explain to me that that really gave out negative connotations about me being basically just pretty and able to string words together and she knew I wanted more than that. (It didn't help that there was me, 17 years old in a little white tank top, all tan and blonde from the summer with a big teethy smile right next to the quote.) I didn't get what was so negative about being called pretty and able to string words together by my friend's mom, that sounded nice enough.... so...maybe the assumption was appropriate...But NOW I do- NOW I'M SMART ENOUGH, I GET IT NOW JUDY! (I'd still love to BE a talking head, but I'd come up with something way more intelligent sounding to describe it.)

This morning as I was reading an article about Katie's possible replacements, it made me think of this because it referred to Ann Curry as a 'news reader." Ouch. I can't decide whether I'd rather be a 'news reader' or a 'talking head' but at this point I think I'd take either. Got any news reader positions out there people?

Congratulate Me!

I have been trying for almost a week to succesfully do something and I almost got it last night!!!! Wooo hooo!

Ya know what it was? Self tanning! My last two attempts ended in terrible failure. Here's a tip for all you paler ladies out there looking for some self tanning tips:

1. Well first it's WAY easier to do it if you have a boyfriend, way easier because what would a boy rather do than look at you naked and not be allowed to do more than lather self tanning lotion over you.
2. If you don't have a boyfriend and you're sad about it- DON'T CRY AFTER SELF TANNING!

Don't. Don't cry period. About ANYTHING. Because then you're face gets all streaky and you look like a fool and you'll never have a boyfriend again!

Last Wed. I was all ready, I self tanned, I had no plans of crying and then I got a cry worthy phone call. SELF TANNING: RUINED!

Last Thursday, I had a plan to fix Wednesday's debacle and I had no plans of crying (although I was rather sad) and then about 5 hours after self tanning I decided it was alright if I started crying as the self tanning was probably set, so I scoured the internet for things that would upset me. NOPE- NOT good.

But now I'm about 15 hours from when I self tanned and no tears have ruined my new complexion. I was careful to have happy thoughts last night, not be a masocist and scour the internet for things that would upset me and this morning on the train I skipped it when "It's too late baby," popped up on my shuffled Ipod.

However, I still have not mastered tanning myself without a loving touch's help and now, my palms and the underside of my fingers look like they spent last week topless in Mexico.

Excuse me while I take my laptop, a glass of whitewine, a tissue box and your Sarah McLaughlin CD and sink into my fluffy white bed to cry

http://www.gawker.com/news/new-york-times/new-times-site-offers-wedding-videos-164991.php

Thing that is dangerous:

INSTANT MESSENGER!

It's the most dangerous thing EVER!

Because sometimes you're drunk and sometimes you're ditsy (or at least I am) and you IM the wrong person the wrong thing.

I am not drunk today at work. I swear. I haven't had an alcoholic beverage in ohhhh 13 hours. BUT I am ALWAYS a bit ditsy.(Right Mom and Dad? My parents never cease to remind me of this. NEVER.) The fact is: I don't understand the bizarre inter office IM system.

So now, after an IMing mistake on my part, my friend and temporary office mate is rumored to have a boyfriend who doesn't care about her. This is not true. She doesn't even have a boyfriend- the IM was totally taken out of context. But now the man my IM was delivered to has invited her to lunch to meet his son tomorrow. We are red faced.

I'm suddenly really grateful that we didn't have IM at my last job. I would have made such a mistake and I would have been fired WAY earlier than I was. And it would have NOT been a mistake firing and I would NOT have been rehired due to a communication error. Communication would have been MY error.

Embarrassment is the worst.