Out Of Office Reply

To Whom It May Concern:

I will be out of the office from 1:00 PM October 30 and will return, hopefully, barring any further emotional turmoil, on November 1st. I have taken some personal days to deal with an issue that has developed that has lead me to become deeply distraught.

I apologize in advance for any inconvenience this may cause you.
Sincerely,
Helen Green

My Friends: They're Just Like Me!

Responses to my panicked e-mail query Re: What to Wear to a Football Game:

Email Response #1:

Don't know what one wears to a football game event. are you actually going to a real live game? or just watching on tv?

Email Response #2:

Friend: You're going to the actual game, right? Like, in the stadium?

Helen: Yes.

Friend: Wow. So strange.


Email Response #3:

HAH! Wear a cheerleading outfit. I don't know...


My friends are intelligent, talented young ladies, mostly in stable, loving relationships, but when it comes to sports, we're not the girls who listened to our mothers when they told us it would impress boys if we knew the rules or went to the games. We flew by the seat of our own genuine interests. **

And so, I am proud of my friends for these answers. Brava Girls! Brava!


Oh... and then I got this....


Email Response #4

OH! Paint your face half and half- Boys like that!





(** I'd like to make it clear that I am NOT, what you would call, a "feminist.")

When My Friend E-Mails She's "Up For Anything," She Really Means It

From: Friend of Helen Green*

To: Helen Green & Friends

Re.: This Weekend

What is the deal? Dinner on Saturday? During the week? Post-bone? I'm up for anything.

-Helen's Friend*






*FYI: This is how all of my friends refer to themselves.

The Fire Fighter Wears Tweed

A few weeks ago I was on the phone yapping away on a personal call when I see my boss, also on the phone, looking directly at me saying, "Helen's GREAT! She is organized, she's competent, she's smart, she's beautiful, a talented actress and writer, witty beyond belief, and a snazzy dresser!"

(OK. So it ended at "smart," but that's not a terrible place to end....)

I got off the phone, feeling guilty at the thought of me yapping away about God knows what while he was praising my work ethic. He kept going, "I would definitely trust Helen. There's no one else I'd trust more on this floor. Great! No problem, I'm happy to do it."

Wow-wee! Job opportunity? Raise already? What? What!? What?!

"You're the new Deputy Fire Marshall for the floor! Isn't that great! YOU!" He realized the ridiculousness of giving the smallest girl on the floor this title and gave off the biggest grin.

This week is Fire Safety Week. This morning I attended a 'Fire Safety Meeting.' Being the "deputy" seemed like I just had to stand by while the real Fire Marshall did the work. Some of the glory, none of the work. Sounds lovely.

But then I got some bad news. I am being groomed to be a hero! I don’t want to be a hero! I want to LIVE, man! The real Fire Marshall, another assistant on my floor is in charge of pulling the lever and getting out first. Me? I have to make a phone call from the stairwell and check that everyone has been evacuated. They recommend against headcounts because there could be extra people on the floor and instead recommend that we look around and see who is left on the floor. Meaning-the 'Deputy' is the last one off the floor!!

No. Just no.

I sat there as the played fire alarms, over and over again. “Got it! NOW I know when to run!”

I stopped paying attention in defiance. We were sitting in a glass room above the trading floor and I decided to play a game of Where’s Waldo, seeing if I could locate one of Ex-IBs friends who works there. That unaccomplished, I began calculating the ratio of men to women, pushing myself back on my chair and relaxing when I heard, "Then we go to Club Monaco, right?"

I sat up straight. "We're going shopping for sophisticated clothing!?! Deputy Fire Marshall I am!"

I looked at the women whose suggestion it was. She had a highlighter out and was taking notes. She was not looking for a tailored grey cardigan, she was no bullshit. The representative from the fire department, nodded, “Yes. That’s when we go to Club Monaco.”

I stopped paying attention, imagining all the guys and gals from my floor shopping for nicely made city wear as our building burnt down across the street.

Tomorrow we have a fire drill. I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do, due to my lack of attention paying, but I do know I need a new black button down and that I have a credit card.

Why Does Brother Abandon Mother on the High Holidays?

Conversations with my mom....

Mom: So I guess Jimmie won't be spending the holidays with us.
Me: Huh? Why not!?
Mom: He'll probably be with Cara's family .....
Me: Really? No! Maybe for like, dessert...
Mom: Well he spent all of Rosha Shana and Yom Kippor with them!
Me: Who cares? You wanted him to spend them with you?
Mom: I'm just saying they invited him and he went to her house for the Jewish holidays!
Me: But we're not Jewish. They are.
Mom: I'm just saying Helen.

Today You Get Nothing!

Sorry. But I'm busy.

And I know, I know, I've given you very little lately, but today- nothing, again.






OK.




Except.....


.... a picture of me, looking coy, in short shorts surrounded by preppy young men:

A Helen Advisory:

If you ever, EVER hear me say "I'm going to take the bus to work" again, PHLEASE:


First: Accost Me
I am small and although I may get fiesty, it's an act, you can take me, just watch out for biting.

Second: Take away my Metro Card.
It's in my wallet, which is small and brown. The monthly is kept on the edge BUT watch out- there's also a hidden one with money on it in the middle for emergencies and/or out of town guests.

Third: Remind me of this morning.
If I have any memory of it at all, and I haven't blocked it out, like I sometimes do unpleasant things (like, say, puking) then we should be safe from here.

I appreciate it, dear friends and fellow New Yorkers. It'll be better for all of us.

And She's Helen Green too!

"Bullied Bank Woman Wins 800,000"

Key quote:

"Daniella was shouting and saying 'You stink' and that sort of loud behaviour, and laughing in my face and blowing raspberries. There was one time when I was walking from my desk over to the stationery cupboard and she was blowing raspberries with every step I made." - Helen Green

WOW! Rough!

But, hey- it's an option that I think is at least worth considering....





******I'd like to thank my dear friend Janet for the information that made this post possible. Here I am, thinking that she's helping obese children and anorexic teens all day long but instead, she is, in fact, google imaging me.

About Dear Helen Green

I had a proposal a few weeks ago. A proposal my dear friend Janet wanted to get accomplished. We wanted to meet the Company Bitch. We wanted questions to be answered, we wanted curiosities to subside, we wanted to see if she's as pretty as she says and we wanted to prove to an anonymous girl that we are friend soul mates! So I wrote CB a letter on this blog.

The following Saturday night I found myself at an East Village bar with Ex-IBanker and Co., a few Stellas in, when I took out my Trio to seem as fancy as the rest. One would have thought I received an email from [fill in celebrity of your liking here] by the way I freaked out and ran out of the bar.

I call Janet. No answer. I know she is at a BBQ in the Jerz, unable to chat. I text her, "Seriously call me ASAP." (I clearly have no respect for emergency words in texts.)

This is what had appeared in my email prompting my erratic behavior:

Hey Helen,

I'm both flattered & newly paranoid about my bar conversations. I'd love to meet you guys but I'm kind of obsessed with staying anonymous. At least until I get fired.
-CB
P.S. You do look a little like me

Well at least we got one questioned answered (She's TOTALLY hot!)

I skipped home that evening and learned one thing: To make an Ex-IB understand celebrity bloggers you can compare them to high school football recruits.

Me: Maybe I seem a little strange for being so excited that she saw my blog, and read something I wrote (oh my GOD!), BUT you'd be excited if some super good high school football recruit took a bit of an interest in you! And I think that that's totally retarded- but hey!

I pat myself on the back for good communication skills with a species previously unknown to me: The Sports Minded Boy. (And I will remember this incident when random high schoolers start emailing him.)

ANYWAY, that Monday Janet and I didn't expect a miracle and for CB to go back on her plea for anonymity, but we did suspect that she'd show up, but not let herself be known. We suspected everyone that Monday night at Coppersmiths: The girl with the silver embellished jeans

Janet:Maybe that's her
Me: Uh. NO Way!
Janet: "Why NOT!?
Me: Janet, she said she looked like me, are you calling me TACKY!?! Embellished jeans?!"

...the pudgy giggly girls hanging out with the softball team....
Janet: Maybe that's CB and S!
Me: Oh now I'm FAT, ugh, my nutritionist friend is calling me FAT!?

the dude near the window who could have TOTALLY been Re-Boyfriend, the waitress, it could have been ANYONE!

Janet was fresh off a run, I was fresh off a yoga class. Calm but anxious. The time passed. We polished off some wings, we drank a few Bud Lights. We got frustrated. ...

But we understood. And we calmed down. And we will stay loyal. And we cannot WAIT until Oprah Winfrey reveals you. Which will happen. And when a movie surrounding your blog is written by you and produced. Which I'm banking on happening...(I am an actress who looks like you... ehem.)

Definitely.