Thursday, September 27, 2007

All Growed Up

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. If you manage not to die for long enough, eventually you turn thirty. In your face, Cobain!

I'm not bummed at all, actually, which is good since most of you are over thirty already and right now giving your computer screen the same hairy eyeball that I give my 27-year-old friends who talk about their biological clocks. Why do all the girls I roll with seem to be 27? Bitches. The 70s rocked and you missed it.

Also? Hairy eyeball is like the grossest expression ever.

Anyway, I'm ready! I own my age! And I've been telling people that I'm turning 50 just to try and elicit the "Holy CRAP you look great" response. That would also mean that my mom had me when she was ten, but hey. She's always been a little promiscuous.

Ahem. No more slutty mom jokes! I expect that the next time you hear from me I'll be older and wiser and wearing a smoking jacket and discussing equities. When you're thirty, you suddenly don't feel the need to do the Thriller dance in your living room, and you're such an adult that you don't leave cooked pasta that you didn't finish on the stove for two days, right?

Fine, three days.

Tuesday is The Big Day. There's a car commercial out right now that says, "Hurry, offer ends October first!" I always reply to my TV, "So does my youth!" Yeah, no one else in the room with me laughs either.

I guess I could try to come up with some corny life lessons or something, but why bother when Kenny Rogers has already done it for me? My life has been distilled into knowing when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em, when to walk away, and when to run. Sounds about right, though, huh? Of course, at the end of the day soft rock defines my life.

Anyway, I'll pretty much be drunk with my peoples all weekend (and I define weekend as being the second that work ends tomorrow until sometime very early Wednesday morning) so I'll see you once I shake off these 20s.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Quotes of the Week

Me: Okay, do you really want to talk about this? Because here's the deal. Rooting for the Yankees is like going to Epcot Center instead of Europe. It's like going to Italy and looking for the Olive Garden. It's like choosing Paris Hilton instead of Scarlett Johansson. The Yankees are the drive thru value meal of baseball. When you say you're a Yankees fan, especially if you're not from New York, you're saying more about your own lack of character and integrity and class than you even realize.
Dave: You know, I've still never been to the Olive Garden.


Me: The IT guy who works at my school winked at me on Match.
Kate: There are no words.
Me: And you know what this means? If my work laptop breaks there's no one I can call. Do they still make typewriters?
Kate: Who are you, Bridget Jones?
Me: Aren't I?


Over the weekend I was taking care of Dorie's kids, who are 9 and 7, while she and her husband went to a wedding in Philadelphia. First of all, I have new respect for parents. I got the kids off the bus after school on Friday and went home Saturday night so exhausted that I could barely muster the energy to club my ass off until 4 AM. Hearing "Hey, is that the book you're reading? Is the book you bought yesterday? Why did you buy a book yesterday but it's not the book you're reading now? Did you start this book awhile ago and you want to finish it before you read the new book?" five seconds after you wake up kinda makes you want to crawl back under the covers immediately, even when it's coming from kids that I've loved and adored their whole lives. And then between meals (apparently cocktail olives don't constitute "a balanced meal" for children), soccer practice and soccer games and fall ball, not to mention one little girl's mom who screamed from the sidelines, "ALEXIS! Run like you mean it! Put the pressure on! GOD, this is depressing!"... holyfuckingshit. I'm doubling up on my Ortho Tri-Cyclen this month just to be safe.

Anyway, the quote came when the 7-year-old was discussing how hilarious it would be to have a secret hole that allowed him and his friends to see into the girls' bathroom at school. His sister promptly admonished him and said that she and her friends would never want to do that. Then he said, almost wistfully, "You know, it seems like with girls, we want to see THEM naked, but they don't really want to see US naked." Pretty much hit the nail on the head there, buddy.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

I Remain Powerless Against Surveys

1. Did you cry today?
No, and I don't plan on it.

2. What were you doing at 8:00 this morning?
I was at work listening to Knocked Up Supergirl talk about how she read that when you're newly pregnant you don't actually need to "eat for two," you only need three extra glasses of milk a day, and besides that she's enjoying snacking of lots of healthy fruit and vegetables. In that moment I wanted to shove sour cream and onion chips down her throat more than I've ever wanted to do anything in my entire life. Fruit-eating baby-housing bitch. I mean, what? Miracle of life, whee!

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Buying chicken broth and mushrooms in preparation for the now legendary Tuesday Night Dinner.

4. What did you do in 1992?
I was a freshman in high school. I played with my friends and gossiped. Wow, things are so different now.

5. What song do you love right now?
I love every song on the latest fun mix, Fun The One You're With. If I had to pick one, maybe You Know I'm No Good by Amy Winehouse.

6. Three words to explain why you last threw up.
Jen's cats suck.

7. What color is your hairbrush?
Green and black.

8. What was the last thing you bought?
Cocoa butter body oil. It kind of sounds dirty, doesn't it? Oh, just to me? Okay. Well. Anyway. How are you?

9. Where do you keep your money?
In the bank, or in Sephora.

10. What was the weather like today?
Cool in the morning and at night. I LOVE FALL! Bring it! I already have pumpkin candles.

11. What's the best part about winter?
The holidays, and the snuggliness of it all. I think winter's cozy.

12. When is your birthday?
October 2nd.

13. Are you over the age of 25?
Not a day over 22, thanks for asking.

14. What were you doing last night?
Texting and cursing the Sox.

15. Do you sing?
I love to singa...

16. Does your screen name have an "x" in it?
No. These questions have started to suck.

17. Do you know anyone named Daisy?
No. Oh wait! When my dad was a kid he had a cat named Daisy. It probably died like fifty years ago. So, actually, the answer is still no. Crap, now there's an angry cat ghost after me.

18. Do you make up your own words?

19. Are you ticklish?

20. Would you say you're feisty?
Indeed I would.

21. Favorite animal?
A fish that buys its own food and cleans its own tank.

22. Name someone whose name starts with the letter "B"?
Brody Jenner.

23. Who's the last person to call you?

24. At what age do you want to have kids?
Mmm, that depends. Not anytime soon.

25. What is your favorite candy?
Mini Eggs.

26. What is the next concert you're going to?
Matt Nathanson next month.

27. Where did you go today?
Work, CVS, Shaw's, home.

28. What is something you say a lot?

29. You're at a friend's house in the bathroom and realize there is no toilet paper. Do you ask them or look yourself?
Well, I'd do a scan, but then I'd start pounding the wall and swearing and Larry Craiging out.

30. Do you have to work tomorrow?
Yes, does anyone have a job where they get Wednesdays off?

31. Who was the last person you said "I love you" to?
Jen, but via text, so maybe that doesn't count.

32. Soup...out of a can, packet, or homemade?
Preferably chicken noodle with extra carrots from the Soup Factory. In the dead of winter, that stuff is like crack. Warm, delicious crack.

33. Do you have a nickname?
Red. But you knew that.

34. Are you a heavy sleeper?
No, I'm a light sleeper. Sorry, former and future bedmates.

35. What are you listening to?
Um, definitely not Rock of Love. Definitely not.

36. What is the best movie you've seen in the past two weeks?
Superbad! It was fantastic. And I can't WAIT to see I Want Someone To Eat Cheese With, (Sarah Silverman, yay!), Lars and the Real Girl, and Feast of Love.

37. When was the last time you did the dishes?
Earlier today. Although my dishwasher did them, so I really can't take much credit.

38. Name someone who made you laugh today?

39. What's your favorite quote?
There are TONS but the most succinct is probably "If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?"

40. Guiltiest pleasure?

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Good Fences

I came home from work on Friday to find my new neighbors, who have been gradually moving their stuff over for awhile now, finally settled in. So settled in that they'd found the time to place an indescribably ugly kitchen playset and two white plastic chairs on the grassy area in front of their home, presumably for the purpose of sitting and enjoying their kindergarten-age daughter prepare fake meals. At first glance I assumed they must have been piles of garbage waiting to be taken out. By the time I left for the night about an hour later, I was already plotting how to make the eyesores go away.

If we were regular neighbors with unattached homes and yards and septic lines, then more power. Go on and whip up that fake risotto all the live long day with your proud parents looking on. But since we live a condo, we don't really have a front yard. We each have a few feet of grass that we all basically inhabit, which means that all the hideousness on their "lawn" was also on mine. Call me crazy, but I happen to think the area looks better when you don't fill it with pieces of ginormous plastic crap. Ironically, these neighbors had just spent weeks having their home professionally readied for their arrival courtesy of an endless stream of painters and carpenters and feng shui whisperer psychic good vibe analysts. Given all that, it seemed funny that they'd throw piles of decrepit Wal-Mart junk right in front of their (and my) windows. I mean, what's next, a Chevy on cinder blocks?

Now, some might say this is a Bad Time To Mess With Me to begin with. Some others may even say, Seriously, Don't Get In Her Way, That Girl Ain't Right. What, does no one else's road back to normalcy involve copious amounts of tequila and dancing to Will.I.Am and T-Pain in one's living room? Okay, so my path to happiness is a little different from the Dalai Lama's. Whatever, on my plan you can have cocktails and greasy brunch.

So maybe my altered state of mind is partially to blame for the note that my new neighbors woke up to on Saturday morning. Considering I haven't officially met them yet, you'd think perhaps that it would be "Welcome to the neighborhood!" wrapped in ribbon around a basket filled with freshly-baked cookies. I went with something slightly less heartwarming.

Personal items should be enjoyed on your patio. The courtyard is a public area and not an appropriate location for large play equipment. We appreciate your prompt attention to this matter. Thank you, The Condo Association

The Condo Association (read: me) is happy to report that when I woke up the next day all their shit was gone. Victory is mine!

It's such a fine line between feisty neighbor and that crazy lady next door, isn't it?

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Does It LOOK Like I'm Wearing The Easy Button?

Can we talk about inappropriate touching for a minute? Okay, not show-me-on-the-doll-where-he-touched-you Law and Order SVU inappropriate touching.

I was at Staples looking for a globe for my classroom and made the mistake of soliciting the help of one of the employees, one of those sad little men who try to offset their disturbingly tiny upper body by having a ginormously annoying personality. "I'd be THRILLED to help you! A globe? Hmmm! Are you going to be using it for traveling, because a GPS might come in more handy! HAHAHA!" And then? Hand around my waist for about three seconds as he guides me in the direction of the (overpriced) globe.

Now, okay. Shouldn't be that big a deal, right? Except why isn't it? It's one of those things that I walk away from going, What. The. Crap? Since when is it okay for a five foot four red shirted assistant manager to touch me? And since when do I not even squirm away because I don't want to be impolite? A stranger has his hand on my body and I DON'T WANT TO BE IMPOLITE? I'm a battered woman waiting to happen. He really loves me, I swear! I can't just LEAVE, don't you understand, I LOVE HIM!

On the plus side, when I finally wrangle myself away and change my identity, I'll get my own Lifetime movie.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, letting the short man at Staples get handsy. Would there have been any way to say "Please don't touch me" without sounding hysterical? Moreover, why do I care how I'd sound to him or anyone else around me?

There are other incidents in this vein: Letting some first date fucknut kiss you even though it was the longest caesar salad you've ever suffered through but you just don't know how to sidestep the moment. Because, what, you don't want this guy you'll never see again to feel rejected for the next four seconds? Or how you never call out your perpetually cheap friend whose wallet seems to mysteriously vaporize from time to time and everyone just smiles politely like they don't notice that it's happening. Again. Why do we ever let people mess with us, however slightly, especially strangers? Or maybe especially friends?

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. In any case, I still need a globe. Why are they so expensive? Are they still trying to convince us that the world is flat? Because I'm just pointing out that wall maps are much cheaper. Political propaganda? You decide.

In other news, I decided after watching approximately three minutes of the new Real World on MTV that I'm never going to have children. I'm a little concerned that my unconceived child is already drunk and screaming crying into a phone at a bar because some guy who looks like every other guy on the planet did her wrong. Seriously, what the hell is happening to teenagers? I know, it's like I'm a member of the Greatest Generation. But for reals, people. Do babies just come out with bad highlights and sideways trucker hats now?

If I do have kids, they're pre-emptively grounded. Go to your womb, sassypants.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Sing, Sing A Song

What song makes you think of...

Your life twenty years ago (and where were you)?
True Blue by Madonna. I was a feisty fifth grader.

Your life ten years ago (and where were you)?
Two Step by the Dave Matthews Band. I was a junior in college, probably drunkity drunk on vodka and orange soda.

Your life now (and where are you)?
Hmmm... maybe More Adventurous by Rilo Kiley. Okay, fine, it's easier to sum your life up with a semi-hipster song, but it's really more like Good Day by Jewel. Don't judge me, I'm still in positive affirmation mode. Also, damn you Jewel! You have always pissed me off. I forget, did you ever live in your car? I'm not sure you ever mentioned that in any interviews.

Summers as a kid?
Definitely Summertime by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. Honkin' at the honey in front of you with the light eyes...

Summer now?
The song of this summer was, without a doubt, The Way I Are. Talk to me, girl. Also, thanks Timbaland. My students didn't really need to know how to talk English good anyway.

Spring break?
Ha! Well, the only time I did spring break up proper was when we went to Florida during senior year of college, and I was thinking the song of the moment was probably Baby One More Time. Back then I shamelessly loved the kitsch extravaganza that is Britney and I STILL DO. Don't kill yourself, Brit! Or if you do, at least make sure you do it on live TV! Anyway, I just asked one of my friends if he remembered what songs I was digging during that trip and he reminded me of a piano bar on Disney property called Jellyrolls that I LOVED. I'm sorry to tell you they played lots of Billy Joel covers. It was really fun, though! Also, why do my friends remember my life better than I do?

Your job?
All Star by Smash Mouth. Last year our principal had some group come in and he must've thought they were going to do something educational but they put on a crazy laser show in the pitch black gym, set to the tune of frenetic bubble gum songs. The kids frrrEAKED out, dancing like crazy and singing at the top of their lungs, and All Star was the song they loved the most. It was hysterical. All they needed was glow sticks.

Your parents?
Probably Misty by Johnny Mathis. It's their wedding song, and it cracks me up for several reasons. First of all, my mom randomly picked it at their reception because they hadn't thought about a wedding song until then. Second of all, the first line is, "Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten in a tree," and third of all, ever since then whenever my mom says, "Do you hear something?" my dad automatically says, "Misty?" even if it's the sound of a truck backing up, because when they were first married she'd get annoyed with him for not recognizing it if they were out somewhere and it came on.

Your siblings?
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother. Just kidding, I'm sans sibs.

Your favorite relative?
Stupidly enough the song that always makes me think of my cousin Andrew is Jump by Van Halen, because I remember being at a party at our aunt's house back in the day and I was making up a complicated dance routine to it and he would jump around incessantly behind me, all useless and literal. Granted he was probably 3.

Your spouse?
Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down, which is his at-bat song.

Your kids?
I don't have any, but something like My Front Porch Looking In by Lonestar. Country song, I know, and a little cheesy, but I love it and it's the kind of thing I hope for. (Ahem, not for awhile, though, uterus. I promise I'll eventually be ready for sleepless nights and spit up, but for now I'm good with friends and cocktails and Sox games. Are we clear?)

Your best friend?
God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, especially lately.

Your exes?
Cry Me a River by JT. No, just kidding. Maybe Cool by Gwen Stefani. Or Dude Looks Like a Lady, depending what ex we're talking about here.

Monday, September 03, 2007

5 Messages For 5 Boys

1. The trannie gets a lot more press, but you were my first true love. That time in the gym when you picked me as your ballroom dancing partner out of all the other girls in the sixth grade, I thought I'd die, DIE, of happiness. Even my braces were letting off tiny sparks of joy. I thought that you looked like Joey McIntyre. My parents almost died that I was 11 and demanded to start dating, but I loved going roller skating and having awkward phone conversations with you. Now that you're a goth DJ you'd probably be embarrassed to admit (or sniff, would you even remember?!) that our song was Some Kind of Wonderful from Dirty Dancing. (Ha, the best part is that I still don't know who sings that song... The Dirty Dancing Soundtrack is a band, right?)

2. I know I haven't seen you in awhile, but I gotta level with you: Not a fan, my friend, not a fan. And you know it. You were always sheepish around me, because you know Red don't play that. I don't like generic fratty guys like you, and I especially don't like when my friends are hung up on generic fratty guys like you. You've said numerous times that you don't want to be with her, so why don't you just leave her alone? Seems easy enough. You know you're just messing with her head. I almost wish I'd run into you at CVS so I could just say, "Hey, how are you? I know, it's been forever! How's work? How's your family? Oh, no kidding! Great. Oh, and STOP. CALLING. HER." I know it's none of my bidness but so help me I'd say it. Also? Why are you thirty years old and still wearing shiny shirts and clubbing every weekend with your boyz? Gay much?

3. I know that you'll either be the President of the United States or a homeless guy standing on a milk crate outside Starbucks urging us to see the irony in our actions. You can be totally infuriating, patronizing, and my friends will probably never forget that time you kicked your dog. But you and I have been friends for a long time and I still want to know that you're okay.

4. I know that your sickness and skewed perception of the world continues to hold you back, and I'm worried about you, as always. On a lighter note, I saw your ex-girlfriend on MySpace and holy shit, she's 31 but she looks ten times cuter than she did in college. What the hell? I almost wanted to email her and tell her that but it seemed like an odd way to start a conversation, you know? Oh, and I can't believe you're opening for Guster this weekend. That's rad.

5. I'm glad we're still friends. I'm glad you save emails that I sent you ten years ago and then resend them to me so I can relive being a drunk 19-year-old again. Happy birthday!