Tag Archives: flames on the side of my head

Men Who Hate Women

Too bad I didn’t have this WW crown when I was working there. I could have summoned my inner Amazonian and kicked his ASS!

{Apologies to Stieg Larsson for borrowing his original book title}

I’ve had my mind on comics and comic book stores a lot lately, and so I’ve been thinking about the BEST job I ever had, ever. But because of one guy, it was also one of the most horrible workplace environments, ever.

In the mid-90s, I took a second job at a comic book/collectibles store to make extra money, and to try to forget about how bad my once-awesome-but-now-terribly-corporate video store job had gotten. I used to buy my comics there, and had discussed my rampant Clive Barker obsession with the owner several times, as he always seemed to have several signed books, figurines, etc. (as I found out later, he was good friends with Clive! SCORE). So, when I mentioned that I was looking for something part-time, he thought it would be awesome to have a chick working there who knew her stuff. It was a quick hire. I don’t even remember an interview, really. I had become so chummy with most of the staff that they already knew and liked me.

All of them I guess, except one.

For the purposes of this story, I will just call him “Dick.” It seems appropriate.

Dick had relocated to the fair city of Lynnwood from some small town in the mid-West, and as I came to find out, hated women. Not just a little, a lot. Or maybe it was just me? I guess I never quite figured it out. In any case, Dick was polite and accommodating when other employees or the manager/owner was around, but as soon as we were the only two in the store, he would have me do the most insane things, backed up with the excuse that “the owner” wanted it done. Continue reading

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Times when songs have been used to describe me

Look! It’s me! And I am totally NOT avoiding this party, motherf**ker!

I spend an inordinate amount of time wondering if what I write on here is going to offend someone, or how it will make them think of me, or how it will affect someone else—and all of these things end up making me drag my damn feet and are totally useless.

And I often do the same thing with the things I say out loud. Unfortunately, it’s usually WAY after I’ve said them that I realize they may have been misinterpreted, or taken in a way I don’t mean them. Because we all remember times when things have been said to us, and for whatever reason, those phrases STICK.

Even if we know they’re not true (then or now), or we’re puzzled over why they were said, or they hurt us deeply, or made us feel awesome. And thus, the first installment of “Times when songs have been used to describe me” – aka: “Things that have been said to me that I will likely never forget.”

1. One time at in like, 1992, shortly after U2’s ZOO TV tour (I remember this because I was wearing a gold glitter U2 t-shirt that was about 3 sizes too big for me), a bunch of friends were having a BBQ and dancing to “classic” – read: pre-1990 – U2 songs. When “With of Without You” came on, this guy that I vaguely remember said, very loudly, right after the “…and you give yourself away” lyric:

 “You do, you know. You give yourself away.”

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, or what he meant by it. And I didn’t want clarification, so instead I called him a “fucker,” hurled my beer bottle at him, and stomped out in a rage. Continue reading


Stumbling onto past ghosts

I look stoned here, but I assure you it was just the 90s.

Oh man. I came across some tucked away my wedding photos the other day and I all I could think of was how IMPOSSIBLY young I look. How fucking naïve my face is, and how miserable I know I was that day. And then, immediately following that, how I wish I could go back and tell that Amie not to do it. To skip out before we went through with it. To leave when my mom asked me if I wanted to back out.

Anything. Everything. To stop me from taking that leap. But, I did it. I went through with the traditional vows and had my first dance and watched all my friends and family be merry and get drunk and congratulate us.

Your past is part of makes you who you are. But I think it’s REALLY important to recognize that it doesn’t need to define you for the rest of your life.

Did I make a mistake marrying that guy? Probably. Did I know it at the time? I think I recognized on the honeymoon that it probably wasn’t the brightest idea I had, and I know for sure I stayed with him wayyyy longer than I should have because I didn’t want to branded a “failure”, but honestly, on that day? I convinced myself that I thought I was doing the right thing. Continue reading


The worst pick-up lines I’ve ever heard.

This is why I used to give guys a fake name when I was a bar-hopping single girl.

To me, personally, I mean.

1. “You look just like my ex-girlfriend!”
See also: “You look just like my ex-wife!”

I have actually heard the above multiple times, from many different guys. How are these going to endear me to you?  You’re hitting on me because I’m the spitting image of your EX. Your. Ex. That says to me that you’re looking for a clone, not a new person to be in a relationship with.

2. “You look pretty good for thirty.”

Okay. Wait. HOW is this a compliment? How about just, “You are beautiful.” or “You look really amazing.” Why mention my age, at all. And it’s the “pretty good” part that makes me go ewww. See also: “That outfit really flatters your size.” and “WHOA. You are OLD, but at least you look young!” 

3. “Since your friend turned me down, can I get your number instead?”

No. Just no. I don’t need to explain why this isn’t okay, do I?

4. “I’m married, but you’re too cute to pass up. Can I call you?” 
This, or some version thereof, has also happened multiple times. Yuck.

And my personal favorite:
5. “You look lonely. Want to come home with me and hook up?” 

Again. I…what? Do these ever work for anybody?


Tantrum-throwing 30-somethings = not cute

Even my drink is frowning at "that guy."

So here’s how I found myself at a bar with a full-grown man stomping up and down like a child, while screaming that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

It was a week night, and one in which I was engaged in a traveling happy hour—as in, a few friends and I started at one bar and drank our way through a few before ending up at 611.

Anyway, whilst at the second bar, we ran into a few other traveling happy hourers, a couple of perfectly nice and normal ladies with a guy who also seemed just fine. Two drinks in he starts chatting me up…and at first, it’s just your usual bar chatter. “Where you from? What do you like to do?” etc. Then he asks if I want to step outside for a cigarette. I politely decline, and the crazy starts in.

 “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Uh. I don’t smoke. I’m actually allergic to smoke, so I prefer to stay as far away from it as possible.”

“I don’t really believe that. No one’s allergic to smoke! Why don’t you want to go with me? Don’t you know we’re meant to be together?”

“….that’s…funny? Wait, what?” Continue reading


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