12 March 2007

First enemies of 2007


Despite what L might tell you, I don't go out of my way to find situations in which bitchy quips are my only escape route.

Wearing this t-shirt in the Logan Circle "gayborhood" notwithstanding, these things just happen to me.

I meet men on street corners, I make it pretty far along in reality show castings, and I have more than my fair share of encounters with women who have something to say and have the courage to say it out loud.

Had it not been for that 2-3 second window between Beastie Boys' "Sabotage" and Neil Diamond's "Shilo," I never would have overheard the conversation between the two blondes standing just ahead of me and to the right this morning at the intersection of 16th and M.

"It's not like it's frickin' summer, you know? I mean, uh, desperate for attention much?" the thicker of the two said in a deliberately loud whisper while stealing a not-so-subtle peripheral glance my way.

"No kidding. It's still Winter, technically," the other one retorted, her delivery and pause before the word "technically" - a trying-to-think-of-the-right-word pause, not a stylistic one - demonstrating her rank as the more doltish of the two.

Pausing my beloved Neil mid-"Papa says he'd love to be with you if he had the time" to concentrate on their accusations, a twinge of panic went through me. Thinking maybe in my haste to get ready this morning I'd accidentally put on my chocolate brown sateen short shorts or tulip mini, I looked down to assess exactly what it was about my appearance that so outwardly, so offensively screamed, "summer has arrived!"

After taking inventory of my outfit, however - 3/4 sleeve wrap-dress, lightweight trench, peeptoes, no tights (there's a high of 63 today, after all) - my panic turned to sass, my embarrassment to arrogance.

"You know," I said, "you're so right, it is still technically winter and I am pushing the season a bit. I guess I was just excited and jumped the gun at the prospect of the first warm work day in months."

"Uh," the thicker girl muttered, learning her place in our exchange very quickly.

"We...um, it wasn't like..." the doltish one stammered, unable this time to think of a word - much less a sentence - to counter my unexpected niceness.

As I walked away, they in their black, thick-soled flats and ill-fitted gray poly-blend dress pants and I in my just-plucked-from-warm-weather-shoe-storage caramel leather skinny-heeled Charles David peeptoes and fits-me-like-a-glove DVF wrap-dress, turned back ever so slightly and in my best passive-aggressive Regina George impression said, "Just be thankful, girls, you still have about 70 days before you have no choice but to share those (pointing with my eyes and tilting with my head at their lower halves) with the world. You should check out Gold's Gym, I'm pretty sure they're offering six weeks free through this Friday."

And with a no-really-I'm-just-trying-to-help smirk, I twirled on my stiletto, unpaused Mr. Diamond, and strutted the remaining three blocks to work.

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

What reality show did you almost make?

Johanna said...

Back in college, in 2000, I made the semis for "Real World: New York" and then there's another more recent one, but I don't want to jinx it just yet by discussing it here!

bff in chicago said...

I am so glad you are my friend and not my enemy.

With anyone else, I would assume this was either made up or exaggerated, but having seen this kind of encounter firsthand when you were only 15 years old (and again at 17 and again at 21 and again last summer...), I know you're telling the truth.

Unlike those politicians you seem to lust after :-)

Anonymous said...

I LOVE IT! Way to go J! So many unattractive and unfashionable women are absolute bitches, just because they're bitter. Way to put them in their place!

Brooke said...

I saw THS Real World this weekend and they said when the NY casting got down to 26 they made them live in a house in Palm Springs for a week. Were you one of the 26?

Johanna said...

No, I wasn't one of those 26, unfortunately. I guess the semifinalists were more numerous than they told me. I had 4 interview rounds, so maybe that was the fifth.

Oh well...

nyc admirer said...

Holy sh*t, I love you even more than I did yesterday.

Oh wait, story of my life...

p.s. I've seen Hannie in action as well -- watch the f**k out is all I have to say!

nyc belle said...

You go girl! You have my dear admiration from all the way up here in NY... although I dont know you, I feel like I've known you for years... That's the exact response they deserve - envious B*tches!

{a friend of a friend gave me your blog address b/c she knew I would enjoy a fellow fashionista's view :)}

west coast devotee said...

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I admire you.

kiss,
me

p.s. LA needs a dose of your reality -- when are you finally going to make your virgin trip out here?

brown rowergirl said...

I hope those girls cry themselves to sleep tonight.

And then hit up Nordstrom in the morning for a proper pair of natural-fibered trousers :-)

I third being a witness many times over to JC's brazen behavior. She's the queen of being a bitch while making her victims believe she's just trying to help.

Academy Award caliber stuff.

Johanna said...

Thank you to all of you snarky women (and men) who are in agreement with me that it's perfectly fine to stand up to bitchy women who talk smack about you when you're RIGHT NEXT TO them.

As one reader put it (in person, not here), what I did was actually a public service. And like my blog header states, I'm willing to perform this service one badly dressed, stocky-set Johanna-hater at a time.

Anonymous said...

And you're proud of your behavior? I wasn't aware snarkiness trumped bitchiness. I, and most civil and courteous people, would classify them both as egregious.

I'm disappointed, I've enjoyed your blog up until now....

Johanna said...

I apologize for your disappointment. I hope you continue to read my musings and you continue to comment - good or bad - whenever you feel inspired to do so.

best,
Johanna