The concept behind social networking is fundamentally flawed.
The premise being, you like your friends, they like their friends, and therefore, you should like your friend's friends.
Uhm, no.
On the ideological level:
It was just simply different way-back-when; when morality in America was more standardized, homogenized. But with the onset of social change, our tolderant attitudes toward those who believe in everything from premarital sex (I'm a fan), to interracial adoption (also a fan), to the death penalty (I vote no), our social networks are getting more confusing. Can't the people with opposing views carry cards, or something?
On the interpersonal level:
No one likes everything about their friends. And these people, being seperate human beings, can tolerate certain things that you can't. I cannot get along with people who are disloyal, dishonest or impolite. But even "polite" I'll bend a little on, and I happen to know that some of my close friends put up with things from their own close friends (putting them in dangerous situations, putting them down, being competitive, etc) that I would not tolerate.

Clearly, "mixing friends" can be a mixed bag.

Case in Point:
OC this weekend was lovely. I didn't go to Seacrets once, and didn't want to. I was staying in a beachfront condo wth K and her roomate, (let's call her Kristy). Kristy's long-time guy friend passed out on our couch Saturday night, then took Kristy, K and I to Bayside Skillet the next morning before spending the rest of the day with us. This concrete salesman and Salisburian was the perfect gentleman.

Alone on adjacent hammocks later that day, he and I began discussing the intricacies of life. Cuz that's just what you do on hammocks. (Or maybe it was the Dirty Bananas that we were using to "hydrate" our burning flesh).
"It's so weird, Roar. I know this guy. He's like a brother to me. He barbacked for me for years. Then, when he got into Maryland, we got him a job barbacking at Bentley's. But come to find out, he's in jail. Last year, some kids were taunting him, so he lit a broom and set the house on fire."
"Yeah, I know. I sang at the Memorial Service for the student who died in that fire."

I think he had expected me to sympathize. But obviously, I couldn't. I wasn't mean about it. But while our perfect gentleman wondered how his friend could have kept the secret so long, I couldn't help but verbalize:
"Maybe the court would have gone easier on him if he had confessed at the time. Someone turned him in, right?"

We went into more detail, but the gentleman eventually left it at this:
"Well, Roar, I had no idea. I'm sure you have a different perspective than I do, given the people you know."


OK, so this is an extreme example. But it is also extremely true. Don't get me wrong, I don't think this guy was a bad guy just because he knows someone who's in jail. But the circularity of this scenario was uncanny. How does life happen like this?

And more to the (general) point: Is it any wonder that the friend-of-a-friend test, these days, is anything but foolproof??


Ghost Town

I saw Scooter-the-Football-Player in Georgetown Saturday evening. I found out quickly one semester that the list of girls he'd made out with in my sorority was about an arm's lenth long. It made it less flattering somehow.

Later that night, after jumping in a cab near my place (that almost never happens) I spotted another ghost. He was sitting outside at Logan Tavern and though I just happened to spot him, I would know him anywhere. His face is exactly the same. He still cocks his hat exactly like that. I've never seen another body hold that position as naturally as his can. It was him.
...I considered having the cab stop, but that seemed a little shrill, especially considering I know exactly which doorway to find him in these days. If I really wanted to talk to him, I would have approached him by now. As it is, when in Adam's Morgan, already happening to leave a venue at the top of the hill (again, going too far out of my way would seem shrill), I make sure to walk past and catch my cab up there, at that corner. Because it's not about wanting to talk to him. But if I have to live knowing he's still alive, I want him to do the same...
But I digress. It was unnerving seeing this unfriendly ghost away from his doorway and perched in my brunch spot. It almost made me forget how nervous I was for the evening- for a minute.

Even later, I was braiding Woz's beard hair and checking my voicemails. That random Oklahoma number from earlier that day? It had been a very friendly ghost: the voice I'll never forget, my H.S. boyfriend calling to check in.

Clearly, for Roar, the ghosts come out on Saturday night.



There's nothing to say.
Each of the comments that were left on Wednesday's post were completely fair and accurate.

O, so you want more?

I was prepared for the violent reaction to Wednesday's post, and each concerned and even pissed comment was completely valid. I respect each of the strong feelings against drunk driving that people posted. Those commenters are, without a doubt, completely correct.

I've never lost anyone to a drunk driving accident, but I'm sorry for anyone who has. I realized as I posted this week: I was the villain in my own piece.

The guilt I mentioned in the title was not about thinking I was "bad luck," as luck clearly had nothing to do with what happened (or worse, what could have happened) to my friends; and could have very easily happened to me. Rather, I have continued to feel horribly guilty that I failed to protect myself and my friends last Friday night. I feel like I unfairly skated through that situation unscathed.

I considered "Lucky and Guilty" my pennance. An acknowledgement of what did and what could have happened. A way to also be held accountable, though not by my insurance company.

But to those that thought that this blog's topic was inappropriate, I've got to say one big "Fuck You." The blog did not glamorize an ugly situation. Nor was it meant to. Drunk driving is what it is: a stupid, incredibly dangerous thing that happens often and with serious consequences, as each of the commenters with personal stories proved.

The blog was intended to begin the discussion that it did, and I was happy to take the fall, because few of us are completely blame-free. Because too many people have IM'd me: "We've all done it..." And because I'm old enough to know better.

This weekend was the first time that the consequences of drunk driving hit so close to home for me, and I realize, that makes me very fortunate. I thought this was worth discussing HONESTLY and without rhetoric; admitting my own personal irresponsibility.

And that's just what I do here, and will continue to do. Cuz I didn't give the URL to my family, and I'm not putting it on business cards. I try to keep the drink/bar/club lists to a minimum (unless they serve the story at hand), but I'm only going to write about what I know (for better or worse...). I promise never to post pictures of people I've never met, and never, ever will you find videos of asian porn posted here just so I can say: "I'm doing something original."

What else can I say?


Lucky and Guilty

Sorry I've been so preoccupied. This weekend, one of my very good friends wrapped her car around a pole.

I went out with two people last Friday night. It was a drunk night that began with shots of Jameson and Jaegermeister before I even got off work. I had more with a (guy) friend once I was cut, at 10pm.

My best friend, (a former sorority sister), then joined me at the bar, and she quickly caught up with shots of Patron. She was the reason I was out: I got a text from her around 9 that said she needed to blow off some steam. And "blow off steam" we most certainly did, complete with dancing on the bar.

Our banner evening ended with Kier (sp?) Royales before she dragged my drunk ass out of Science Club. Who knows where our guy friend wandered off to...

She took me back to my car, still upset with her boyfriend, and drove off in the rain.

After another pit stop at Citron, I drove home, too.

It wasn't until Saturday night that I got the news. She's OK, she's just bruised, but I feel horribly guilty.

Then last night, while waiting tables, I found out that my other friend, the guy we lost while in Science, had also gotten in an accident that night. He got in his car and ended up driving his Spidr into a road divider. Within 20-30 minutes of my girl friend's accident. He's also fine.

Though there's not a scratch on either of them, they've both totalled their cars on inanimate objects. It could have been much worse, but still.

I feel like bad luck.

I'd like to say that I'll never drive under the influence again (the way I promised never to have sex again) but I can't-- not completely, anyway. Driving wasted I'll clearly never do, but what about the gray area? I just drove home tonight after 3 drinks (and sushi) at Dragonfly...

UPDATE: MamaRoar (a lawyer) just put it all in perspective. That long Chipotle lunch line is soo useful! I've been preoccupied, clearly, because what happened to the 2 people that went out with me that night could have easily happened to me, too. Definitely a wake-up call.

And the Gray Area (aka 1-3 drinks in a night)? MamaRoar broke it down like this: If you've had more than one drink in the hour or less before you're going home, don't drive. Even if the accident wasn't your fault, if you're breathalized, you're screwed. (Did I mention she's a lawyer?) I thought it was an interesting perspective I hadn't considered, though. As was her next piece of advice: No matter what your friends think is OK at the time, you're the one could be maimed, and they can always be on to their next best friend...

But her Bottom Bottom-Line was this: If you think you'll drink at all, don't drive at all. And if you think you can't afford the cab, you're too poor to be going out anyway.

And just in case you guys thought you needed to rake me over the coals a little more (go ahead, I posted it afterall...) MamaRoar has this to say as well:
"I'm pretty disappointed that you're 23 and still doing stupid shit like this."


Thank you, AE

Picture from my birthday (Cuz if Sharkbait can live in birthday revelry for a week, surely I can reminisce as well...):

This dress had an aura all it's own. So I decided it needed its own post. It made me do wild and crazy things-- like the salt-shaker-- on every raised surface I could find.

Not to mention, few could keep their hands off me when I was in this dress (as demonstrated by the picture, above). I'm never throwing it out, ever. (And to think, I found it in the back of my "dressy" closet!)

Thank you, Armani Exchange. Thank you.


Fan Club

He did Britney better than Britney does. That sample comes on, and just when you think you're about to hear, "I'm a slaaaaaaaaaaave for you" instead here comes his amazing, insightful lyrics. And some cello.

I'm talking about Van Hunt, of course. And song #6: "Being a Girl."

Van Hunt and I have this long-standing relationship. Ever since "Down Here in Hell With You," it's been clear: this man gets me. "Singin' my life with his words..." Anyway. And then there was "Dust." How can you not like that song??

So yeah. I'm getting to know his latest "On the Jungle Floor," and I have to admit, I didn't like it at first. It sounded too... out there. But that's who he is. And when my man Van puts it down, it's lyrical mastery. "Being a Girl" is my theme song this week, 'cuz this girl is def
"...full of spectacle and charm like nothing else."



Slump After Hump Day

District Siren celebrated her Birthday last night. My beautiful Taurus bff joined the ranks of the 23's yesterday, and a fun time was had by all.

BTW, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEEZY!!! I wonder how many times I said that last night?

The burger was good, but our party was too big to seat in the Restaurant, so The Front Page (of Ballston) sat us in the hallway of the mall behind it. We were having such an echo-ing, raucus good time that we didn't even care that the $1 drafts ended at 7pm. The VA'ans (who were used to the cheapness lasting 'til 9pm) were bummed, but I was excited to get ANY drink for even $2-- it was like being in college again!!

And what birthday would be complete without Kareoke at the Royal Lee? This dive was deliciously bogus cornball. I treated DS's work buddies to my own (fabulous) renditions of "I Will Survive" and "Black Velvet," cuz Roar is a Diva and she rolls like that.

Too bad it's raining, but our hangovers needed the down time that the present gloom affords. Besides, I'm on mental rest until tonight's debauchery...


Roar, Reporting from Celibacy Central (a PA)

A Scientist once told me that our bodies aren't meant to have sex with as many people as we, in modern America, do. I had no idea what he meant at the time.

But then recently, A Health Professional Said...

...Condoms only protect against HIV and pregnancy. And that's only when they don't slide off or pop. (EVERYTHING else can be transmitted during "protected" sex).

...Lesions, warts, sores or other symptoms don't need to be present for your partner to transmit them.

...(As an example): Someone with Asymptomatic Herpes can slough the virus from anywhere on their genitalia, at any time, and infect their partner. (Not sure if this is the same with other viruses).
The kicker:
(As I learned later, according to a Herpes website) 90% of people have Herpes and don't know it. The only way to know is through a blood test, and no one does them. Why? The Health Professional described the test as "a can of worms."

I share this, because I feel as though I've been lied to. The strong women I idealize as independent and fashionable role models on Sex and The City, (if the above facts are true) are not liberated, but most likely, (were they real people) are among the afore-mentioned 90%.

And Not-That-There's-Anything-Wrong-With-That. Evidently, as any quick google search will show, there's a very active online Herpes Dating community. (I'm sure it's the same for every other incurable STD). Clearly, life does not end once someone contracts an STD.

But the same way the medical community continued to tell women that mammograms were "lifesavers" when they knew they weren't (a 20-year nurse's study came out a few years ago discounting mammograms' effectivity), I think someone should have warned us, as our numbers climbed, that adding sexual partners to our respective rosters was only asking for trouble, period. Slogans like "Just Wrap It Up," and "Knowing Is Beautiful" seem to fall way too short, with the above information.

Imagine: what would dating be like if we saw the condom for what it was--(a HIV-Hat and Baby-Rejector)? Would we all be as randy as we are? Or would we date to get-to-know and trust that the sex would just magically be there after the vows?

Cynical Roar that I am, I've never believed that great sex would magically be anywhere, especially not in the marriage bed of a celibate couple. But my cynicism has been overridden by fear:

I'm never having sex again. Until I'm married.

Knee-jerk reaction? Perhaps. But for now, Roar is officially Prude.

***Proof that guys don't get tested as often as us chicks do.***


The Serbian Man Said...

..."The word for ___ and fish is the same thing in slang in my country."
(Same here, buddy...)

..."American women don't shave here like they do there..."
(He was referring to, uhm, "fish." Which actually really suprised me since I didn't think European women shaved anything...).

..."Oh. You like to sing? I think you'd be a good manager. I'll lay out a step-by-step plan for you. But not in front of him," (nodding towards our bartender). "Who knows? He might want to be manager of the Ritz Carlton too..."

..."So what are you cooking for me?" (WHAT?!? I can cook pasta, pasta sauce, eggs, broil fish and roast a chicken. But I won't be doing any of that for you.)


Stuck- AGAIN

How does this always happen?

My roomate and I made plans to drop by Lima tonight. Cuz it's a friend's birthday and he was supposed to be going. And it's the only night they play acceptable (read: non-house) music...
I was excited cuz I've been out-of-commission this weekend (with Mom in town), and I invited all the coolest party-goers that I had in my phone.

But our friend decided to do dinner and a movie with his guy friends for his birthday instead. And then roomie bailed. And all my chick friends are "sick," "have a cold" or are "tired." This is bullshit. I am going to Lima tonight to meet up with at least 5 (confirmed) dudes and offering up zero girlfriends. Like, can you imagine how pissed the guys are gonna be? I can. Been-there-done-that.

Picture this: Chi-cha lounge, November, me and 4 dudes, all of which thought I was coming to meet up with just them.... ugh. Can you spell A-W-K-W-A-R-D? (Lemme know if I spelled that right, cuz I'm tipsy from wine and cheese earlier with Smashley).

Back to tonight: What ever happened to taking one for the team?

Who gives a shit if it's Sunday???


Bald Guardian?

The Universe wants me to date an older man. And you know how I feel about older men.

But why else would I see that newly-divorced guy from work out at Lima and Play in the same night? (Besides maybe the fact that he brought the girls and I to the second venue...)

Why else on the same night would I hang out with a mutual friend's boyfriend who is newly-divorced himself and plays "cousin" all night, busting the hottie's balls (and eventually letting me doze on his shoulder and then putting me in a cab at the end of the night...)?

But #3 is the kicker: Why else, when I leave my phone in the cab going home, would my 39-year-old work buddy aka Mr. "Why Are You Scared?" call, talk to the cab driver, have the cabbie drop the phone off with him, and hold the phone for me 'til the next night?
Who loses their phone in a cab and gets it back from a friend? That NEVER happens!

Older men are quickly going from skeezy assholes to my guardian angels...


Mama Roar

MamaRoar is in town this weekend!!!

Last night, her Gringa daughter shared with her her love of Salsa: I took her to the free Salsa class at Citron. Poor woman, it was 10pm after a long day of airports, and she still shook her thing. And had a mojito.

Tonight it's a girlie dinner at Acadiana. Yum!

...More later.


Skinny Bitches

I'm only gonna write it once.

I was in line in front of two very skinny, very short, very preppy girls (who looked like they study at the beauty school near my office) at Chipotle last week. After I ordered my Burrito Bol con todo, I couldn't help but hear these girls' order: "Just one veggie soft taco please," they said in the highest-pitched, most annoying voices imaginable. I wanted to snap them like the twigs they were.

Wasn't it Mo'Nique, in the Queens of Comedy (no, I never saw it) that said, "Skinny bitches are *not* to be trusted."

Well I have my own version of that same rule: I don't trust bitches that are skinnier than me.

I understand that this is arbitrary and slightly judgmental: but the rule is not without its exceptions. Many of my very bestest girlfriends are stick thin. They've proven themselves (trust-)worthy and, therefore, have been granted their personal dispensations.

I understand this rule is subjective: my own weight has fluctuated since High School, as my Jr. Formal dress would attest (if I hadn't gotten rid of it). But just as I tend to feel taller than I am, in my head my body looks and feels the same. So yeah. Other women have the wiggle room between my own actual and self-percieved "skinniness."

But back to the point:
Like I said: I get it. Some women are naturally skeletal-skinny. Some women like raw veggies. Some women have mono.

It's not that I think they're evil.
...OK, that's a lie. I do think they're evil. How can you naturally have a lack of upper-arm fat? How does one naturally have a tummy that's concave? Or hip bones that protrude?

No. These women are denying themselves and it makes my skin crawl to look at them. I know they want a sandwich, they know they want a sandwich, everyone that can see them knows that their willpower has, somehow, busted a fuse and created a Nazi eating-regime in their head allowing their wrists to quietly get more and more brittle.

I don't trust these women because if they'll do that to themselves, Lord Jesus, what will they do to others???


Mature Love?

We were in K Street Lounge and a mutual friend was bitching about her relationship. So I said it. Cuz no one else, who was closer to her, was going to.
"Then why are you dealing with this bullshit?"
She didn't miss a beat.
"Because I love him. I'm 26, and I'm ready to work through something. I'm ready to stop walking away at the drop of a hat."
She was completely earnest. It was enough to give this cynical Savage pause. She definitely shut me up.

Now, let's be clear: this is the same girl that gets black-out drunk and hooks up with guys who are not the man she "loves." (Clearly, she's being selectively mature).

Still, in that moment it was hard not to envy her. I can't remember feeling like that since...