Category Archives: Redhead

Lucille Ballsy

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Lucille-Ball-i-love-lucyIt’s long folks, but it’s probably worth the read if you need to feel like a winner today.

I’m clumsy, and ridiculous, and things just happen to me. No, seriously…picture a movie scenario and I bet ya that has happened in my real life. I constantly get told my world is like a sitcom and I’m that bumbling comedic actress with poor spatial awareness and my foot in my mouth. And a beloved ginger to boot!

Picture a scenario where you have a fling with your ex’s best friend…and he tells him at the bar…with you there. You are literally standing in a line as this real-life horror movie telephone plays out…and then he puts his arms around you both and says, “Ya, that really just happened”. Imagine that in all the bars in a city of over 5 million people your common-law ex walks into your very bar with his birthday party, only weeks after breaking up, annnd he doesn’t even live in that  town. Break up on New Year’s Day only to have your car die on the way home in a snowstorm and because of that hallowed day there’s not a gas station open for miles, so your tow truck driver and his son dry your salty tears and obviously, offer you homemade chicken nuggets and fries too.

Stories like this just seem to go on and on. Ridiculous stories. Funny stories. Awful stories as long as they don’t happen to you. You eat Chinese food and you faint at the foot of your Asian co-worker, you get a flu shot and almost land in hospital (oh the irony). You tell your boss that he looks too young to have a 14 year old daughter and he answers “I am, and she’s 17…and I was 17 when I had her. She was an accident, but thank you.” You leave your purse on a subway and end up in a month-long battle with a hooker for its return. You order a cab and walk away with a proposal. Even more insulting? A friend of mine was offered two camels for her pretty little hand…and my cabbie didn’t offer me anything but arranged wedded bliss.  Aw shucks.

Not long ago, the funniest of all comedic moments happened to me. Warning, this may not work in writing the way it would on TV, but do your best to make a mental picture as we go. Trust me, like Nike says, just DO it.

I was trying to throw a load of laundry in at a friend’s place while she was at work, but we had partied like it was 1999 just the night before. She seemed cool with this arrangement, so long as nobody was there when she returned, she was tired, she was cranky, she was hungover. So, I threw in the load and headed triumphantly out the door to tackle some errands. Well, one thing led to another and like is life, everything took longer than expected. By the time I got back to her house I figured I had enough time to toss the load in the dryer and then mysteriously sneak out like I was never there. Like a ninja. Except…..it had stopped. The goddamn washer had stopped.

So, like a pregnant teenager, I furtively tried to convince myself it had finished the cycle, but as I continued to pull sopping, dirty, clothes out of the washer…I realized in horror, it had stopped about a minute after I left.

I just wasn’t in the mood to explain it wasn’t working or see her disappointed face when she got home, stupid people pleaser that I am. So, I did what any logical person would do, I continued to load the clothes into the dryer, literally dripping wet. As more and more water sloshed onto the floor, I naively convinced myself I could get them dry enough to still sneak out in time. It was going to work, it had to work.

But, the closer I got to the bottom of that basin, the more pooling water there was.  Pooling, brown, dirty water. I started frantically searching my mind trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. Soooo, I started scooping out the water with a cup, but, Martha Stewart washes her freaking dishes by hand (even with a dishwasher), so I needed to wash the damn cup to hide the evidence. But, there was not a dry dishcloth in sight, so I had to use a clean one and then refold it in the drawer as though it was never used…sneaky, sneaky. To get rid of the last little bit of water in the bottom of the basin, I was going to use paper towels, but she was out, so Plan B, toilet paper, but that was down to one roll too! Plan C – I used her hand towels. These became drippy, dirty little messes and no matter how much I tried to ring them out…they just didn’t appear dry. So, I threw em in the dryer…with the very, very, very wet, still-dirty clothes.

In the meantime, the inside of the washer was hairy and gross, so I ended up using a bit of the toilet paper to clear this new problem up. And yes, once again, I did what any rational person would do. I tried to flush the wad of dirty toilet paper down the actual toilet (can’t leave the evidence in the garbage can of course). However, as is my fate, the toilet overflowed…annnndddd she doesn’t own a plunger.

So, what now you ask? Well, I ended up having to fish it all out by hand and resort to Plan D, just toss it all in my bag to bring home. Still, there was now water at the top of the toilet bowl rim, so back to Plan A, out comes the now clean cup again to be rewashed. Saga over you think? Now I’ve poured toilet and dirty basin water into her sink…so mother fucker, the sink too you ask?  Oh yes, the sink too.

After all this is said and done, it gets even better…she texts me that she’s on her way back, EARLY.

So I go to grab my now not-even-remotely-dry clothes and all I’ve managed to do is cover the inside of her dryer with hair and animal dander. Ugh, so NOW, I’m shoving wet clothes into my bags, using more toilet paper to wipe out the inside of her dryer and trying to use her shower towel to get the water off the floor. Big sigh and heavy-hearted I hung all her wet dirty towels back in the guest bathroom and hoped by the time she went in there they would be miraculously dry.

Well, turns out they were. And a bit discoloured. And a bit oddly wrinkled. I guess she noticed a couple of weeks later. Also, those errands I went to do? Well, those errands were driving a third friend to a neighbouring town. So, as it turns out…weeks later she did go to use that bathroom…and discovered the toilet was indeed plugged. She blamed it on our friend (I knew she would) and oddly enough, she also wondered where her toilet paper went. So, when annoyed she told me that our friend had plugged her toilet and used all the paper, I burst into laughter. Damn, and I was so in the clear….ish.

Either way, as I sit here writing this, tears are streaming down my face. As they have been for the last hour or so….from laughter. The whole reason I started writing this entry in the first place was because tonight I was painting. Painting something for this very friend. And I used oil paint, which I never use. Bright, neon orange, oil paint. The more I tried to wash this off the brush, my hand and out of the sink, the thicker and more stuck it became. It just kept spreading and was becoming a gelatinous mess and in the meantime, a scab on my hand had peeled off…and I was bleeding…and eventually I didn’t know what was blood and what was paint. Soon it just looked like a murder scene…but, as I stared at my bright orange, gooey, blood-stained hand I laughed and thought…yes, a clown’s murder scene.

So, I hung my shoulders, shook my head, giggled and thought….sigh…this could only happen to ME…or….Lucille Ball.

Ricky, get dinner ready, because I’m coming home.

The Ginga Ninja

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Do you ever really know somebody?

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redhead-maskIt’s funny, you think you know a person and then something…somewhere changes and all bets are off.  We think we know the ins and outs of why people operate the way they do – the jocks, the jackasses, the pleasant and the petrified. But do we?

The really confident people, you know, the ones who admonish you or have really strong opinions one way or another – sometimes you find out that deep down they are just as insecure as you and learned to lash out first…that way it didn’t hurt so bad when they were picked on, or maybe, just maybe they hoped that people would be too scared to attack at all.

And the indecisive person?  Are they actually indecisive…or are they too scared to offend somebody else and therefore refuse to choose so they can’t be blamed for the decision?  I know what it feels like to back down quickly, I know what it feels like to second-guess.  I’m not saying I won’t stand my ground…trust me, in the right company I will.  But, there are times it is me being submissive because I am too afraid to anger, or am unprepared for the fight.

So, depending on who is viewing me and on what day – I can seem overly confident or underly decisive (I know it’s not a word, but I love it).  But, suddenly, it is me in all my glory that can’t be trusted and doesn’t appear to know myself, or at the very least present myself.  Nobody is ever really black and white, particularly not anybody of substance.

In this world, we have gotten used to witnessing the end result, not what brought us to that place.  We live in a society of treating the symptom, not the cause. I’ve seen a lot of bad things happen to a lot of people. I’ve seen a lot of people do bad things.  We say not to let others get under our skin…we say not to care, not to listen, not to worry and to always be ourselves.  But, how realistic is this?  We are afterall…human.

So that brings me to the question – do we ever really know someone and inevitably do we always know ourselves? I think we can change our mind all the time. I think we can question our meaning, our world and our weight….and  I think maybe you can never really, truly, honestly know someone or what they think of you. Or even, sometimes what you think of you. I’ve never known such an upbeat song to have such mixed lyrics, but… Some nights I feel this way, and well some nights… I don’t.images (3)

Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck
Some nights I call it a draw
Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they’d just fall off

But I still wake up, I still see your ghost
Oh, Lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? Most nights I don’t know anymore…

This is it, boys, this is war – what are we waiting for?
Why don’t we break the rules already?
I was never one to believe the hype
Save that for the black and white
I try twice as hard and I’m half as liked,
But here they come again to jack my style

Well, some nights I wish that this all would end
‘Cause I could use some friends for a change.
And some nights I’m scared you’ll forget me again
Some nights I always win.

So this is it. I sold my soul for this?
Washed my hands of that for this?
I miss my mom and dad for this? Come on.

No. When I see stars, that’s all they are
When I hear songs, they sound like this one, so come on.

Well, that is it guys, that is all – five minutes in and I’m bored again
Ten years of this, I’m not sure if anybody understands
This one is not for the folks at home;
Sorry to leave, mom, I had to go
Who the fuck wants to die alone all dried up in the desert sun?

My heart is breaking for my sister and the con that she call “love”
When I look into my nephew’s eyes…
Man, you wouldn’t believe the most amazing things that can come from…
Some terrible nights…

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The Ginga Ninja

Sometimes A Cliché is Just a Cliché, and Sometimes it’s Not

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Neil Patrick Harris, comebackNothing is impossible.  I may not always believe this every day of my life, but there are a million clichés  to go with this, “all things are possible”, “never say never”, “tomorrow is a new day”, “today is the first day of the rest of your life”….

But, it’s true.  Comebacks from teen idols, millionaires who started from nothing, my cat that seems to get healthier as he ages and the fact that I can keep rediscovering myself and find new goals in this game we call life…it all points to you never really can tell.  Though I think to be honest, our rediscovery is less about changing and more about accepting the things that have always been there.

“And when you think it’s all over, it’s not over, it’s not over” – Tears for Fears

The Ginga Ninja

Heroine or Heroin, They’ll Both Make you Crazy

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joan of arc, redheadIt’s strange.  You sort of wake up one day, after a period of transition, a period of loss, a period of uncertainty and realize…you are okay….as just you.  You are okay alone and you are okay in your own skin.  You don’t know how it happened and you don’t know what was the tipping point – did you need a certain amount of time alone, did you need a certain number of failed dates, did you need a period of loneliness, of grief, of illness or depression to get you here? But, you wake up one day and not only are you okay on your own, but you feel the most secure you have in awhile.  Heck, maybe you feel the most secure you have in …well, ever.

That my friends is where I am.  I felt secure when I was in a functioning relationship and knew that I wanted a different end to my life.  I felt secure when I was getting high grades and receiving compliments for getting in shape.  I feel secure when people are praising my calm demeanor at work or my ability to handle uncertain vacations, car repairs and health problems, but why now?  I actually got told the other week by 4 different people that I was so positive; they couldn’t believe how positive I was.  ME?  Positive?  Say it ain’t so.

I mean, life hasn’t exactly gotten any easier.  If anything I’m making less money and have less love prospects than ever before – the future is uncertain, my job is a mess and my health is only so-so, but for some reason, I feel more ME than…well, than I can remember.

I have always hung onto this little picture in the back of my mind of my happily ever after.  My  version of life that would kick ass.  I have spent countless hours working hard, playing hard and worrying needlessly to achieve this end goal. There wouldn’t be too much hardship, there would be financial freedom, there would be a doting, yet charmingly badass husband who was a lovable, yet stern father and I would find the relationship with my mother I always dreamed of.  I would live in a world where there were no petty differences or misunderstandings, I would have perfect pets that didn’t vomit on my rug,  I would wake up magically a morning person everyday, my job would transition into something that I not only liked, but I excelled at…and all flawlessly, without a stressful moment in sight.

Well, I can tell you my life is nothing like that.  My life is not picture perfect, my finances are not secure, my cat DID in fact vomit on my rug, I’m debating hiring a cleaning lady for a one-bedroom apartment and I don’t know if and when I will ever transition into a money-making venture that lets me act as an entrepreneur and doesn’t provide daily heart arrhythmia.  But, what I do know, is that for the first time in a very long time…not only am I living in the present, but I’m not really worrying that much about it either.

I have a pretty cool gig when you stop to think about how hard life can be and how much I have accomplished on my own.  My loft is pretty kick-ass for my own place in a big city, my 13 year old car keeps trucking like a friend that won’t let me down and somehow I keep stumbling into decent career opportunities whether they spell long-term or not.  My health is on the rise, my problems are often self-induced (aren’t everyone’s) and even though I thought I was finally ready to let love back into my life, for the first time in my life…I don’t know if I need to.

I’m honestly, truly, at least for today…okay with me.  Just plain, simple, little, boring (yet quirky) me.  As sad as it is, that may go down as one of my all time greatest accomplishments.  The day I could genuinely say I was good enough…or let’s simplify that…I am good, or better yet, I am enough.

Sometimes your knight in shining armour is just a douchebag in tinfoil anyways. If Prince Charming is coming, well, he’s running pretty late and Juliet let me in on a little secret, her light at the end of the tunnel?  Well, he turned out to be nothing but a deadend. Maybe life’s greatest love is learning to love yourself.  Or maybe life’s greatest achievement is learning to live with yourself.  She may have died at the stake, but I guess I would take Joan of Arc over Juliet any day. Oh, my girl Joan?  That’s right bitches, she’s a ginger.  So, maybe, just maybe your fairytale ending is….you.

“My life has turned into a giant pumpkin and Prince Charming is very, very late.” –  Brooke Freeman, Shortland Street

The Ginga Ninja

A Genetic Recipe for Disaster

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Redhead Recipe HeaderStress. Worry. Anxiety. Who comes by this naturally?  Is it born, or bred, or a bit of both?

Is it the pressure we felt as kids to be the best or to tackle the dreams our parents didn’t?  Is it societal pressure that our friends have wedding rings, condos, dogs, kids…oh, and don’t forget about 50% of them have divorces too.

C’mon, I’m only 50% kidding.  Or is it in us, in our genes, in our star sign, or even in our hair colour?

Yes, I said it, I’m a Virgo.  I am fiercely loyal to my friends, yet I put up a wall. I am an anal perfectionist who focuses on goals and extensive planning, yet….am also a Bohemian, emotional, music-loving, free spirit.  Put those two characters in a room and they don’t talk, put those two in a body and they fight like hell.  Virgos are planners, aaannnddd Virgos are dreamers – this is a terrible match that in turns creates those dreaded words….(shhh, don’t say it)…ANXIETY and DOUBT.

In a show I really like, The New Adventures of Old Christine, Julia Dreyfus comments:

“You put a dreamer and a chicken in the same body – you got problems.”

You called it sister. But, is that it?  Parents, society, successful siblings, analness, perfection, worry, and star signs?  Is that all that can cause you to react in this sweat-inducing, migraine-creating manner?  Or, could it be plain and simple genetics…

My grandmother was a redhead.  A fiery Irish redhead.  A fiery Irish redhead whom eventually went a little bat-shit crazy. Oh, I forgot to mention I look just like her. In her day and age, when you went through hard times, you didn’t talk about it.  You simply topped up your husband’s whiskey bottle with water and turned to your little yellow pill, or “Mother’s Little Helper” as Mick Jagger so eloquently put it.

So, what about today?  Maybe we don’t send people to the asylum anymore, but we certainly do encourage new and modern versions of Valium.  We are spending more time now than ever before (and more money than ever before) on trying to stay healthy and stress-free. Yoga, Prozak, Reiki, Vitamins…in fact, just today I read about pregnenolone.  Oh, the irony.  We are working our butts off to make enough money to…pay to feel better.

I once heard a parable.  A man on vacation came across a simple fisherman with a small boat and enough fish for dinner.  He said to the fisherman, “Why don’t you buy a bigger boat and hire another man?  In time you can catch enough fish to make money to buy a fleet of boats.  Down the road you could open your own factory, eventually sell it off and retire to a life on the beach where you can fish and sail at your leisure.”  The fisherman said, “Why would I do all that?  I already have a life on the beach and fish and sale at my leisure”.  The moral of the story is we spend all this time on grandiose intentions only to eventually spend our money on the basics that we had all along.

So, where does that leave me? I knew redheads had a weaker immune system (Damn You Darwinism) because they now actually teach that in medical school.  Seriously.  But, what I DIDN’T know is that same genetic flaw that causes the oh-so-ginger locks, and the pigment-deficient, oh-so-freckly skin…also causes higher stress reactions.  And only recently I found out that redheads are more susceptible to allergic reactions that can mimic asthma.  So, I say we start teaching those hideous little gingers now now and give em a head start.

http://gingerism.com/2011/04/how-red-hair-affects-your-health.html

So, even though you may feel occasional worry and be a lovely brunette, just remember that genetics plays a part as much as stressful jobs, poor diet and lack of sleep.  It’s survival of the fittest and baby, we are headed for extinction.

The Ginga Ninga

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