This might also be a column topic, so if you see t…

This might also be a column topic, so if you see this again, don’t be surprised.

Why do people feel the need to ask personal, potentially sensitive questions, and legitimately expect answers? What questions, you ask? Well, I personally think that questions about marriage and children should be off limits, i.e. . . . “When are you planning on settling down?” or “When are you guys going to have kids?” Here’s the thing . . . you never know what someone’s predicament is. Even if you’re close. What if a person was engaged and their fiance passed away, or what if they’ve been trying for years to have kids and can’t, for whatever reason? Who are we to insert ourselves into their lives and demand answers to questions about their personal decisions or circumstances?

For example, I’m not really excited about the idea of having children. Okay, so maybe it’s a little stronger than that — I don’t want to have any. I have Godchildren that I spend time with and love dearly, but as far as anything deeper is concerned, I just don’t think it’s for me. There are people who have the ability and desire to be fantastic parents, and I’m not one of those people (which is really way more justification than I need to provide). The other day, after being asked if I was a biological timeclock victim, I shared my decision, and the person somehow felt the need to chastise me about my decision and then became upset with me about it. I don’t think I have to say that the convo quickly went on a downward spiral to purgatory.

The point is . . . are we no longer being taught sensitivity? As a child I was scolded for asking unwarranted personal questions, and was persuaded to back off when it was clear that someone was uncomfortable with certain topics. Have we forgotten our boundaries? Or did some of us never have any? Hmmmm

It’s been a while. I guess I haven’t had anything…

It’s been a while. I guess I haven’t had anything to rant about since last week.

My week hasn’t been that eventful, which is a good thing. I got carded buying cigarettes, which was hilarious. And no, I don’t smoke. I was buying them for one of my honorary aunts — an old friend of the family. I had my hair in two ponytails and I was wearing overall shorts and no makeup, which I guess made me look like a child. Truthfully, I suspect that the cashier could have been blind in one, or both eyes. Either that or she just wanted to make me feel good. She was pretty persistent about it, though. When I laughed uproariously after she asked for my ID, she raised the brow above her one good eye. I showed her my ID, and she squinted (with that same eye) and looked at me in disbelief. Anticipating her skepticism I asked her why an underaged person would have a fake ID that said she was in her 30s. She reluctantly handed me the pack of cigarettes, which I should never have agreed to buying in the first place.

I’m the worst kind of non-smoker — the self righteous ex-smoker. I smoked for 8 years and quit several years ago, so it’s hard for anyone, including myself, to ever believe I had a pack a day habit. Yep, I smoked roughly 20 cigarettes a day, which, when I think about it, I don’t know how I even had TIME to smoke that much. I never thought that smoking affected my stamina until I was in dance class several years ago and realized that I was wheezing, which was MAJORLY unacceptable in my 20s. So, I quit that day after my manicure appointment. And then I proceeded to have a nervous breakdown for the next two weeks as I trained myself to be repulsed by anything having to do with cigarettes. Not fun, but no more wheezing.

So now, what this means is that I hate being around smoke, hate smoky bars, can’t date men who smoke, and refuse to allow smoke in my house or car. And I can’t believe I ever thought it was a good idea. I guess it wasn’t.

What I don’t understand, to save my life, is how there are so many smoking teenagers. Back when I started, sure, it was linked to lung cancer, but now, society makes it so difficult to smoke. Who thinks it’s a good idea to begin that habit now? I don’t get it? Particularly now that it’s so expensive! If cigarettes had been $5 a pack when I started, my habit would never have gotten off the ground. It would have been a choice between smoking and eating, and I love pizza WAY too much!

Why, Kobe? Why???? I thought I was significan…

Why, Kobe? Why????

I thought I was significantly past the age where I unrealistically idolized certain celebrities, but I’m so disappointed in this one. Kobe Bryant is a highly educated, attractive, successful athlete and now I have to add adulterer to that list of attributes? Forgive me, I forgot an adjective . . . STUPID adulterer?

The interesting thing is that ball players and other celebrities seem to forget the reasons why they’re attractive. Yes, being rich enables one to look better. Teeth can be fixed, dermatologists can smooth complexions (unless you’re Dennis Rodman — I don’t think there’s hope for his skin), better clothes can be purchased. Money makes a person more interesting. But really . . . seriously . . . the real draw is the money itself. The rich and desirable should not think, for one second, that any other man walking down the street couldn’t himself be equally attractive with 45 million extra dollars to spare.

Perhaps Kobe forgot that a 19-year-old can have an agenda too, and far less to lose. If he thought about it for even a second, he’d have realized that the best route to fame for a 19-year-old who’s stuck in a dead end job in an uninteresting city and got rejected during the American Idol tryouts could be to seduce a famous man and go to the police. What the hell ELSE has she got to do?

Could Kobe have thought that sex with him would be exciting enough to keep her quiet? Or maybe he thought he was so compelling that this girl should have been happy to have a quickie? OR maybe he didn’t consider all that he had to lose for a random piece of ass?

And now his poor wife, who’s about the same age as the alleged victim, has to sit in press conferences, holding their infant daughter, and listen to him cry and apologize . . . wearing a game face of her own.

I can only hope the sex was good.

Veni Vidi Vici Okay, so thanks to my buddy Moni…

Veni Vidi Vici

Okay, so thanks to my buddy Monica, who made the first suggestion that I get the Raid spray that kills anything with a stinger — and stressed that I attack the hive after dark – the bees are no longer terrorizing me and I once again have free reign. Life is good.

Okay, so this is a heavy post day. I was garden…

Okay, so this is a heavy post day.

I was gardening earlier, which is normally one of my favorite pastimes, but today I noticed a high infestations of bees, or maybe they’re wasps or hornets — whatever — little flying things threatening to sting me! And then I noticed that they’ve taken the liberty of making a hive on the underside of the railing of my porch (how rude!). It’s small . . . about 2 inches wide, maybe, but I want it gone!! I’ve never, to my knowledge, been stung by anything, and at my age, I’m not about to find out that I’m drastically allergic.

If anyone has any idea of how to remove this hive, please write me at gina@ginabarge.com. Otherwise I’m going to have to start charging them rent.

Anyone who ever considers freelancing should reall…

Anyone who ever considers freelancing should really understand how difficult the biz can be . . . especially in this economy. I’ve recently made the executive decision to give it all up and find a “real job.”

Some of my friends are of the impression that I don’t work, and sit at home eating bon bons all day. And while, yes, working for oneself can be rewarding in the sense that a flexible schedule is de rigeur (even though there was a point that I was working WAY more hours than I did at any consulting firm), and projects can be accepted or rejected at will, there are still a lot of things to consider that might make one reconsider those freedoms.

Finding paying clients is one of those little stumbling blocks. Granted, I do have a few great clients, but they aren’t as regular as I (or my mortgage lender) would prefer. So, I have to hit the smaller markets.

I’ve discovered that everyone could use at least one of my writing/research/etc. services, but many of those people can’t pay, or haggle over my fees. And they give excuses about why they can’t pay my rates — “I’m a not-fot-profit,” “We’re a start-up,” “We’re going through rough times.” Blah, blah, blah. Should I really care about any of these excuses? At first, I thought I should. After all, these people could one day do really well and hire me in the future. Four years later, after being scorched a few times and seeing a lot of my former clients tank miserably, I can’t be quite as sympathetic.

So, before my pile of outstanding invoices reaches a mountainous height, I should probably cut my losses and move on to something that’s still somewhat creative and more stable that will pay for my medical benefits (which are outrageous, by the way). We’ll see what happens.

This is going to sound terrible, but I’ve begun to…

This is going to sound terrible, but I’ve begun to take issue with perfect (or imperfect) strangers who feel it’s appropriate to stop others on the street and tell them that they should be happy and giddy. “Smile,” they say, “it can’t be that bad!” — as though they know what people are really going through.

Never did I think about exactly how rude, invasive and inappropriate those comments are until I was walking down the street with a person who’d just lost a loved one. She wasn’t smiling. Of COURSE she wasn’t smiling. And why should she have been? But according to the anonymous idiot who was trying to flirt, under the guise of reprimanding her for being upset, I suppose she should have just been walking down the street with a wide grin on her face when in reality, she would have rather been under a truck? She should have been smiling for who? For HIM?

What’s wrong with showing our feelings? Or are we now prohibited from leaving our homes until we’re slap happy for fear that the Smile Police will arrest us for lack of environmental beautification? Believe it or not, all of us don’t feel like smiling 24 hours a day (and if you do, I want some of what you’re taking).

But here’s the rub . . . had I said what I really felt like saying in response to the Smile Pusher, I would have been accused of being a terrible person for lambasting a man who only wanted more smiles in the world. [SLAP] Mean Gina!!

Sometimes when I’m walking down the street, deep in thought, and happen to have an odd look on my face (not necessarily a mean look or frown — but a look indicative of a person who’s minding her own business), and someone tells me how much better I would look if I smiled, I want to tell them that I’m entitled to my mood, and that they can take their smile and cram it up their . . . well, you get the point.

Rant over. I’m climbing down from my soapbox and trying to squeeze in one more barbecue before the weekend is over. I should be smiling . . . naturally.

For those of you who were concerned about the resc…

For those of you who were concerned about the rescued Ridgeback, he is doing much better according to Kathy, his new mommy, who is enjoying spoiling him just as much as he’s enjoying being spoiled. I’ve taken to calling him “the boy” until he is renamed, so if anyone has any suggestions, drop me a line.