They Say It's Your Blogday

Happy second blogday to the Tent! I'm looking forward to a year filled with learning new words, improving hand-eye coordination, throwing tantrums, and napping.

In other words, business as usual.

(Also, here's a better explanation of my Christmas than I offered you. Hope yours was merry/filled with virile Latinos.)

What Just Happened: Christmas Miracle Edition

Remember when the Sweet Valley High books had the occasional "special edition," when the characters went on spring break or a ski trip or something like that? Maybe they were called super editions, I can't remember. Anyway, I loved those. They were always so much more dramatic than the regular books and one of the twins always almost died. Anyway, this is my special holiday weekend update. No fictitious twins were harmed in the making.

Christmas Eve consisted of making luminaries, tracking Santa online (complete with 8-year-old Jillian breathlessly shrieking "He's in Paris! RIGHT NOW HE'S FLYING OVER PARIS!"), putting out reindeer food for Rudolph (but not that greedy Blitzen, hells no), a beer run, and my parents hiding a Jesus action figure in each other's cereal bowls.

Kate was a lovely addition to the festivities this year, braving the Fung Wah, offering up newly acquired Trish McEvoy makeup skills (we can make you look dewy), and being a good sport about the fact that when she met Dorie, she was entertaining her children (but mostly herself) by standing on her couch using wooden spoons to conduct Christmas music with an almost disturbing level of enthusiasm.

My mom made Kate a welcome basket with fancy chocolates, warm socks, and a keychain with a K. I think we've pinpointed the source of the family hostessing gene.

My mom's humor-free childhood friend came to Christmas dinner and subjected all of us to her social awkwardness. She's one of those people that all my mom's other friends have given up on but my mom tries to be nice and still invite her places. I think we've pinpointed the source of the family just-can't-shake-a-dud gene.

It was a merry Christmas with my family, my beloved friend, and an aunt who was astute enough to give me the Martha Stewart Homekeeping Handbook, which means I can now clean my entire apartment using just a toothpick and half a lemon. God bless us everyone.

Stealing, Lying, and More Things To Like About Christmas

Last night on the news they were discussing how hoodlums broke into a church in the middle of the night and stole money from the priest's office. First of all, if you're breaking in anywhere, why a church? Second of all, do you think there's a special place in hell reserved for people who steal cash from a priest right before Christmas? I'm not saying it's all that far from the special place reserved for people who insisted on wearing blue to their first communion (me) or didn't get confirmed (me again) but I do think some special consideration must be given. Third of all, the church officials kept saying how saddened they were because that money was intended for the needy. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who breaks and enters for $40 is probably pretty damn needy, so mission accomplished, gentlemen.

Of course, this is coming from someone who, while babysitting Dorie's kids last night and trying unsuccessfully to get them to calm down and go to bed, ended up putting Santa in her cell phone. Nothing like bringing the big guy into the 21st century, right? I held up my phone to show them: "Look who I'm calling, you guys... hello, Santa? How are you? Listen, I'm having some trouble getting the kids into bed. No, no, they're good kids, you know that. And I'm not saying you should send any of their presents back, buuuut..."

By that point, they had gone from screaming bloody murder to under the covers, wide-eyed and silent. And now the "recently dialed" section of my phone is endlessly entertaining: Melissa, Carly, Mardi, Santa, Kate. I might leave him on there; I bet he hardly gets any calls/letters/faxes/telegrams/prayers/shout-outs after the holidays.

Merry whateveryou'reinto, blogfriends!

And Here I Didn't Even Know I Was in the Running

Kate: I just wanted to congratulate you on being Time's Person of the Year.
Me: Congratulations to you as well!
Kate: Thank you, thank you. I knew I was on the short list last year, but this is really an honor.
Me: I had a conversation with a coworker and I think I really convinced him that I was on the cover. He said, "What, is it someone who looks exactly like you?" No, it's ME. And it's also YOU. Very existential.
Kate: Yeah, and it doesn't diminish the honor at all to have to share it with six billion other freaks.

A Few Heartwarming Holiday Moments

1. My mom wrote this in an email to me: "I want to rip someone's face off. Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!" (And all this time I've been claiming to be more like my dad.)

2. Dorie's husband offered me his children to serve drinks at my New Year's Eve party. By strapping trays. On their heads. And having them walk around. Now there's a joke only their father could get away with.

3. Melissa and I decided that we're breaking up all the couples at said party and drawing names to determine who will kiss who at midnight. People are then free to return to their chosen kissing partners, however, the duo who stays together the longest into the new year gets a great door prize. I may be getting a little competitive here, but I think One of My Friends Who is Entirely Unaware of What They're Getting Into and I will be very happy together. I can see it now: "Stop crying, Kevin. You can go back to Carly AS SOON AS I GET THAT DOOR PRIZE."

4. My students did remarkably well at their holiday concert today, considering they weren't allowed to say the word "Christmas." That meant plenty of Winter Wonderland and (wait for it) Winter Pokey, to the tune of Hokey Pokey. What have we become, America? You put your mittens on, you take your mittens off, you put your mittens on and you shake 'em all about...

5. Donald Trump just forced Santa into rehab. Thankfully the big guy is just grateful to get a second chance and promises to try much harder next time.

What Just Happened: 12/17

On Friday I babysat for Dorie's kids (whom I'm not naming by name to avoid the possibility of them googling themselves... kids are so freakin' wired, it's ridiculous). I've talked about Dorie before, but for any newbies, the deal is that she and her husband have lived across the street from my parents for eleven years, so they basically moved in right when I was leaving for college. She and I have discussed the absurdity of how I lived in that house for a jillion years and she moved into the neighborhood right when I was moving out, but honestly, because of the age gap between us (about fifteen years), we probably wouldn't have been close friends back then. I mean, it would've been hard for a 33-year-old to meet an 18-year-old and form a significant relationship.

Anyway, in the years since they've moved in they've had two kids (now 8 and 7, to whom my parents are godparents) and the whole crew has become family to my family. As an only child I should probably say something sweet and corny like, sniff, I always wanted a sister. I never really did, though. But having a surrogate one has turned out to be great. Plus she and my mom bicker so much that I end up looking like the perfect daughter.

So on Friday her son and I picked up her daughter from basketball. I tease Dorie that she's raising Popular Kids, because they're both gorgeous and athletic. The boy is going to start playing lacrosse next year, for cryin' out loud; I see Duke and stockbroking in his future. I love my nights with them, because I get to be a soccer (or basketball) mom... and then I get to say goodbye and go home. One of them wanted to get a pizza at Papa Gino's and the other one wanted to go to Pizza Express and it was such A Big Deal that you'd think, from their faces, that the ensuing coin toss to decide between the two should've happened in slow motion with Chariots of Fire theme song playing in the background. (Papa won, and the disgruntled party settled for scraping the excess tomato sauce off their slices with a spoon.)

At one point Dorie called me, in that two-and-a-half-margaritas happy place:

Her: You know what's so funny? I'm at the Cactus Club and you're home with my kids!
Me: Wait, you mean you wanted me to stay with the kids until you got home?
Her: I'm out and you're home! It's like we switched lives! Ha ha ha!
Me: Do you call all your babysitters and say this?

When they got home, Dorie and I stayed up talking late, and I rolled across the street at about 3 AM to sleep in my old bedroom. It's very counterintuitive to stroll into my parents' house obscenely late; I still have that 16-year-old mentality of feeling like I should be creeping silently up the stairs and hoping that I don't have any hickeys or smell like Marlboro Lights.

On Saturday I went to see The Holiday with Sarah. I loved it! It was a perfectly executed chick flick, all marshmallow fluff and cuteness... the cinematic equivalent of the honey in the plastic teddy bear. But because nothing normal ever happens to me, I got to the theater before Sarah, got in line to get our tickets, and the guy in front of me inexplicably asked for about fifty gift cards, each of which had to be stamped or initialed or something by the guy behind the counter, and everyone involved in this mindfuck took their sweet ass time, despite the growing line and my silent fury. Sarah arrived ten minutes later, got in another line, and I ended up jumping ship to her line because she got tickets faster.

That night I had dinner with Mardi and her friend Kathy, and then Mardi and I went to the Tree. Sarah met up with us later. All I can say is that hilarity ensued, our night ended at about 4 AM, and today I slept until 1:30 in the afternoon, which I haven't done since college.

And now Christmas is right around the corner! How did that happen? Things are getting very giddy up giddy up giddy up let's go. I still have to finish my cards and I THINK I've finished all my shopping. I know I'm ready to be done with work until the new year, so I'm just marking time this week. But I can't wait to start scoring snowman candles and "Teachers Build the Future" paperweights from my kids, all of whom are already psychotic with the anticipation of Santa.

Oh, like I'm not. He always brings me products.

Dear Japan, Miso Sorry

For those of you not from the area or not in a baseball state of mind, the Sox just spent the national debt to acquire a young Japanese pitcher named Daisuke Matsuzaka. Although my feelings toward our new friend are not unlike my feelings toward Barack Obama (i.e. "aaand what's all the hype about, exactly?"), I'm optimistic. Red Sox Nation is always optimistic. And I drew an "07" in the center field sand at Fenway in October so that's got to count for something.

But guess what? Turns out, surprise surprise, that we're really just freakin' tacky. The headline on Boston.com was "Konichiwa!" Our local sports journalists basically pinched the cheeks of the swarming Japanese media and called them adorable. I just heard one of my favorite radio stations play a soundbite, "Welcome and domo arigato, Daisuke!" Yeah, you could argue that it means thank you, but we all know it's a Mr. Roboto reference.

I shudder to think of how much "Turning Japanese" we'll be hearing in the bars come April. And I just heard that they served hot dogs and sushi in the press box dining room. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I Was Just Trying to Buy Brownie Mix and Everyone at the Store Made Fun of Me, and Other Anecdotes on Life

What do you think, have I found the title for my autobiography, or what?

This is reason 3,001 why I don't bake. I remembered on the way home that I had to bring brownies into work tomorrow. Because the grocery store is So Far Away, I went to Store 24, so I pretty much felt guilty before I walked in the door. At a place like that there's always that sense that anything you're purchasing could've been sitting on the shelves since the same store was illegally selling me Marlboro Lights in high school.

But they had brownie mix and I looked at the back of the box to see what else I needed: vegetable oil, eggs, water. I must have read the ingredients under my breath because a woman walking behind me said, "You don't know how to make brownies?" I turned, smiling, assuming she wasn't a horrific bitch, but she was. Woman was totally sneering at me. Excuse you, Betty Crocker. I should've told her I was making them for disabled kids. Maybe I'll go back tomorrow, hope she comes back in as well, and have a "well, the jerk store called and they're running out of YOU!" moment.

Then I'm in line, and the guy behind the counter turned the egg carton on its side the long way and stacked it in the bag. Maybe I'm overly egg protective, but I said, "Oh, actually, can I get the eggs in their own bag?" The guy said sure and couldn't have been nicer. And then the woman behind me (a different woman!) said, to no one in particular, "Now she needs a separate bag for her eggs!"

Now I need a separate bag? Now? As though the bag is yet another thing in my exhaustive list of demands?

I left and have decided that from now on I'm buying my brownies at Rosie's, like any other respectable non-baker. Clearly the magic of the season has touched us all.

What Just Happened: 12/10

After work on Friday, I got my hair did. Well, cut. Now it's shoulder length, if any of you are keeping track. As I think I've mentioned, my hairdresser is a longtime family friend and every time I see her, she repeatedly asks me to a) get it cut more often, which I really should, b) blow it dry adequately every time, which I really should, and c) use products. I don't really use any products; my hair is Totally Straight and Boring (see right) and I'm inexplicably a wash-and-go girl in this one area of my life. My hairdresser can't get over the fact that I love every other kind of product and yet I'm not at all enticed by shine spray or texturing paste or whatever the hell she puts on me. It always goes like this:

Me: I never blow it dry for this long.
Her: I know.
Me: Or this thoroughly.
Her: I know. But you should.
Me: I'm filled with regret.
Her: Oh, enough out of you.

Me: You don't have to use any product.
Her: I know, but this will just make it shiny/silky/supple/sublime.
Me: No, that's okay.
Her: I'm just using a TINY bit.
Me: No!
Her: YES!
Me: FINE.

Clearly, I'm good at drawing boundaries when it matters.

With hair like a golden, dewy meadow, the only time in the foreseeable future that it won't be damp and/or in a ponytail, I went to meet Mardi and Doug at the Marriott bar/restaurant, where there appeared to be a Santa convention going on. Those sorts of things are funnier to observe when you're drinking vodka cranberries. Then we went to (where else?!) the Cherry Tree, where our favorite barfly has, sadly, left for brighter pastures, which means that we now have to pay for our own pitchers. Miller Lite is back to tasting like hooker bile now that it costs money again. At one point all the Santas that we saw at the hotel came raging into the Tree singing Christmas carols; apparently they were bar hopping to spread the holiday cheer and raise money for underprivileged kids. Mardi lured one of the well-intentioned Santas into drinking cheap beer with us for awhile, and Doug looked up at one of the other ones and asked, "Are there really needy kids in [Affluent City We Were In]?"

On Saturday I went to my godmother's Christmas party. She hasn't had a party in about fifteen years so I got to hear plenty of "Oh, my goodness, look at how big you've gotten!" which really isn't a compliment when you're 29. I flitted around like the social freakin' butterfly that I am and provided answers to questions like "So what are you doing for work these days?" (I'm a neurologist who practices law on the weekends and also writes children's books), "So where are you living these days?" (I split my time between my country home, my city home, and the island of Hawaii, which I recently purchased), and "So have you met anyone special?" (Nah, still screening Leonardo's calls; he can be so needy, you know?)

I got home around 1, and Mardi and Sarah were still out but the bars were closing (welcome to Boston, we're lame!) so they came over to my place, because it's the happening afterhours (read: in lieu of a full bar and live band, it features a laundry basket full of towels and a fridge with nothing but wine and ketchup). Mardi brought a boy, in keeping with the tradition of my friends using my home as their motel, and Sarah and I went upstairs to sleep but she kept me awake and giggling. In the morning I drove the lovebirds home and then Mardi and I shopped for accessories for my New Year's Eve naughty-or-nice extravaganza. One of the stops was a party store where I was able to use my teacher discount. Nothing like exploiting the kids to save a few bucks on handcuffs, extra large blow pops and candy necklaces; I'm sure I can incorporate them into a lesson plan somehow.

(P.S. Thanks Zorak! See how I turned my gratitude into a shameless plug? Takes skill.)

Good Eatin'

When I say I'm a beginning cook, I mean beginning. But part of my new healthy kick has been trying new recipes, and I thought I'd share the good ones with you guys. Yes, I'm a novice, but I'm okay with that. Everything I put on this page has been made by me and deemed to be good, so take that for what it's worth. This page will be updated (hopefully a lot!) with new stuff. There's nutritional info included for everything as well. I got most of these from Cooking Light.

And in case you start noticing a recurring theme, yes, I'm a chicken girl. I don't eat a lot of red meat, but not for any particular reason... I love hamburgers at barbecues and spaghetti and meatballs, but I just don't have it all that often. I also don't like potatoes, cheese (although a little of it is okay if it's melted) or beans, so you'll notice the absence of those below (if any recipes say to add grated cheese, for example, I don't, but you feel free to rock the parm). I haven't tried cooking fish yet but I will sometime. Ooh, and I just found a recipe for watermelon margaritas. Yum! When's summer getting here?

Chicken Marsala

1 lb. boneless chicken breast
4 cups of egg noodles
3 portobello mushrooms caps, cut into 1/2 inch slices
2 teaspoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 cup marsala wine (The recipe actually calls for 1 1/4 cups, but the consensus was that the finished product was a little too marsala-y so next time I'm cutting back. However, I used actual marsala wine because I couldn't find cooking wine, so maybe when you use cooking wine you need more of it, I'm not sure.)
1 tablespoon cold water
1/4 cup lemon juice
Salt and pepper

Stir together the water and cornstarch in a small bowl until smooth. Stir in the marsala wine, lemon juice and 1/8 teaspoon pepper and set aside.

Combine the flour, 1/8 teaspoon pepper, and dash of salt in a shallow bowl. Cut chicken into 1 inch pieces. Flour chicken by lightly pressing both sides of each chicken piece into the flour mixture.

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large nonstick pan over medium-high heat. Arrange chicken strips in a single layer. Cook for about 2 minutes on each side or until they are lightly browned but not cooked through. Transfer chicken to a plate and cover to keep warm.

Heat the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil in the pan over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and cook, stirring and turning the mushrooms occasionally, for about 3 minutes or until the mushrooms are lightly browned but not tender. Stir the sauce and pour it over the mushrooms. Cook, stirring occasionally for about 1 minute or until the sauce becomes clear and thickens slightly.

Stir in the chicken. Cover and cook for about 8 minutes or until the chicken is done. While the chicken is cooking, make the noodles. Spoon noodles onto plate and top with chicken-mushroom mixture and sauce.

Makes: 4 servings

Nutritional info per serving:
CALORIES 494; FAT 12.8g; PROTEIN 42.5g; CHOLESTEROL 141mg; SODIUM 87mg; CARBOHYDRATE 52.3g

Chicken and Mushrooms in Garlic White Wine Sauce (served with garlicky green beans, see below)

4 ounces uncooked medium egg noodles
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon bottled minced garlic
1/2 teaspoon dried taragon (or basil or parsley)
1 (8 oz) package presliced mushrooms
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup fat free less sodium chicken broth
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Cook noodles according to package directions. Drain and keep warm.

Cut chicken into 1 inch pieces. Place chicken breast halves in a shallow dish. Combine 1 tablespoon flour, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper, stirring well with a whisk. Sprinkle flour mixture over chicken; toss to coat.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken to pan; sauté 4 minutes or until browned. Remove chicken from pan. Add remaining 1 tablespoon oil to pan. Add garlic, tarragon, and mushrooms to pan; sauté for 3 minutes or until liquid evaporates and mushrooms darken. Add white wine to pan; cook 1 minute. Stir in remaining 1 tablespoon flour; cook 1 minute, stirring constantly. Stir in broth, remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt, and remaining 1/8 teaspoon pepper; cook 1 minute or until slightly thick, stirring frequently.

Return chicken to the pan. Cover and simmer 2 minutes. Uncover; cook 1 minute or until chicken is done. Stir in noodles; cook 1 minute or until thoroughly heated. Place about 1 1/2 cups chicken mixture on each of 4 plates; top each serving with 1 tablespoon cheese.

Makes: 4 servings

Nutritional info per serving:
CALORIES 350(29% from fat); FAT 11.1g (sat 2.6g,mono 6.2g,poly 1.4g); PROTEIN 34.3g; CHOLESTEROL 99mg; CALCIUM 91mg; SODIUM 502mg; FIBER 1.2g; IRON 2.5mg; CARBOHYDRATE 26.5g

Garlicky Green Beans

2 cups green beans, trimmed
1 teaspoon butter
Cooking spray
1/8 teaspoon coarsely ground sea salt
1/8 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
1 tablespoon minced garlic

Cook beans in boiling water 2 minutes. Drain and plunge beans into ice water; drain. Melt butter in a small nonstick skillet coated with cooking spray over medium heat. Add beans, salt, pepper, and garlic; cook 2 minutes or until heated.

Makes: 2 servings

Nutritional info per serving:
CALORIES 54(35% from fat); FAT 2.1g (sat 1.2g,mono 0.6g,poly 0.1g); PROTEIN 2.1g; CHOLESTEROL 5mg; CALCIUM 45mg; SODIUM 170mg; FIBER 3.8g; IRON 1.2mg; CARBOHYDRATE 8.4g

Peach-Glazed Chicken

Cooking spray
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1 pound chicken breast tenders
1/2 cup peach preserves
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 green onion, chopped
1/4 teaspoon pepper

Coat a large nonstick skillet with cooking spray; add oil, and place over medium-high heat until hot. Add chicken, and saute 5 minutes on each side or until done. Remove chicken, set aside and keep warm.

Reduce heat to low; add preserves and remaining 3 ingredients. Cook, stirring constantly, until preserves melt and onion is tender. Spoon preserves mixture over chicken.

Makes: 4 servings

Nutritional info per serving:
CALORIES 238 (10% FROM FAT); FAT 2.7g (SAT 0.6g); PROTEIN 26.3g; CARBOHYDRATE 26.4g; CHOLESTEROL 66mg; SODIUM 95mg

Black Pepper Citrus Chicken

1 tablespoon canola oil
1 1/4 teaspoons coarsely ground black pepper
1/4 tablespoon salt
4 (6 oz) skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
1 cup sliced onion
2 teaspoons bottled minced garlic
1/4 cup white wine
2 tablespoons orange juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

Heat 1 teaspoon oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Sprinkle 1/2 teaspoon pepper and salt over chicken. Add chicken to pan; cook 2 minutes on each side or until browned. Remove chicken from pan; keep warm. Add remaining 2 teaspoons oil to pan. Add onion and garlic to pan; sauté 2 minutes. Add wine; cook 1 minute. Return chicken to pan. Add remaining 3/4 teaspoon pepper and juices. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 4 minutes or until chicken is done. Sprinkle with parsley.

Makes: 4 servings

Nutritional info per serving:
CALORIES 240(22% from fat); FAT 5.9g (sat 0.8g,mono 2.6g,poly 1.5g); PROTEIN 39.6g; CHOLESTEROL 99mg; CALCIUM 29mg; SODIUM 259mg; FIBER 0.5g; IRON 1.5mg; CARBOHYDRATE 3.8g

The Obliterate Your Friends Bay Breeze

3 shots cranberry juice
3 shots pineapple juice
2 shots Grey Goose

This is the perfect amount to fit in a martini glass. Shake well, and use the Goose! It makes a difference. Also, have lots of pillows and blankets on hand, because nobody's going home after a few of these.

Wherein I Use More Synonyms for "Vagina" Than I Ever Thought Possible

Damn my expired Us Weekly subscription; I'm so out of the celebrity gossip loop. But I'm happy to find that it's reached terrifying new heights. It appears that in my absence, labia flashing has become a trend. It's not enough that these twenty-something starlets are all drunk and coked up every night, now they're showing off their goods like a new handbag. I mean, what the hell? Is vulva the new black?

When I heard that Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Paris Hilton's favorite new accessories were their vajayjays, I was all like, nuh-uh, did their skirts just ride up a little or something? But people, these pictures are unbelievable! There's one here and another one here... and oh yeah, here's one more! Those are the edited ones, but you can Google Image your way to the real McCoys, as you'd better believe I did. (In fact, not unlike a 14-year-old boy, I said, "Awww, come on!" when the first ones that I found had strategically placed blurs.)

Seriously, WHAT'S GOING ON? You cannot honestly make a mistake like that. You would have to be novacained from the waist down to not feel a gentle breeze long before some paparazzi has a chance to catch your business on film.

What's next, reverse cowgirl with one of the wise men in the middle of a Catholic school nativity scene? Can I get an amen?

What Just Happened: 12/3

After my dad and I went to New York for that baseball weekend in September (when I also met Darren, Miss Peach, hung out with Kate and Dave, experienced Chipotle for the first time, and didn't sleep), my mom and I decided that we should plan a mother-daughter weekend (pause for the "awww" here), so she and I just spent the girliest two days in Boston.

We stayed at the Westin in Copley, which is a solid A- as far as hotels go, and they have something that no other hotels do: the Heavenly bed and bath. Seriously, the bed is like nirvana. I don't even know what to say about it. I tried to deconstruct its infinite complexities to figure out why it felt so good, but then I just gave up and made sweet, sweet love to it instead. The Heavenly bath is great too. My new Philosophy 3-in-1 and I took three heavenly showers over the course of 40 hours. Fine, four. (Incidentally, Party Jen and I stayed at a Westin in the Bahamas a few years ago, and we called everything in the place heavenly, including the ants we found on our nightstand. Ew. In the hotel's defense, I'm sure the heavenly ants invaded us because of our empty daiquiri glasses.)

Anyway, since the hotel connected to all the stores in the Pru, we went Christmas shopping for, um, everyone. We probably got something for you. We're hoping that you like it, but there's a gift receipt in there so you can exchange it if you want to.

Before we went out on Saturday night we got our makeup done at Trish McEvoy at the hotel spa, which is probably the silliest thing you can spend money on, but we hardly knew our own beauty (and no one else will know it either, because we didn't bring a camera and washed everything off six hours later). I was coveting this, but got it to give to my mom for Christmas instead, because if I need to spend $85 for skin that's supple and glowing, I'll stick with drab and dehydrated and instead put the money toward my electric bill. No, just kidding. Don't you know me at all? They just didn't have two, and tis the season to give unto others (in hopes that she gets sick of it by February and then gives it unto me).

We went to see the show Respect, which was light and fun and adorable. It featured a blond, brunette and redhead, so it was kind of rocking a BFC vibe. (Ahem, I've mentioned my BFCs before and have received a few questions about this acronym; I've been meaning to add this Tent trivia to the SAQ, and just finally did, if you find that information at all interesting.) I'd never been to the Stuart Street Playhouse and liked it there. So it was this nice little show about music and women through the ages-a-lama-ding-dong, and we left on a happy little cloud of positivity, and then I had to tell a drunk hooker to step off. She and her lumpy fortyish-year-old date were about to jump right into the cab that I'd been waiting ten minutes in the cold for. I don't think so, kids. (When we got back to the room, my mom called my godmother and said, "You wouldn't believe it, Red just yelled at a prostitute! It was great!")

The food! Room service breakfast both days, which means you can eat eggs and drink hot chocolate and then lie down! Am I too young for that to make me as happy as it did? Friday night at Meritage in the Boston Harbor Hotel was parmesan and caramelized shallot wrapper style ravioli with white truffle oil, maple rubbed lamp chop with risotto, and a chocolate tasting plate. They actually do something that other restaurants should start copying... anything that you order can be served as an appetizer (excuse me, "small plate") or meal ("large plate"). So you can get a normal meal or order all apps and share, which is one of the best ways to eat out. Also, you know how lots of menus have wine recommendations for certain meals? (Jeez, they even do that kind of thing at places like the Olive Garden now, so now you can decide which "house merlot" goes better with your chicken parm.) Anyway, the chef designed the menu so that it's actually organized by wine... genres? what's the word I'm looking for? and the food that would go best with it. Neat! If I wasn't strictly a chardonnay girl, I'd have tried the prix fixe menu. Saturday night at Rustic Kitchen was olive bread, butternut squash tortelli (not tortellini, is there a difference?) with brown butter, sage and creme fraiche, and then chocolate chip gelato. The place is so lovely, cozy and warmly lit, perfect for a cold night.

While it wasn't like I was really away for the weekend (I live ten minutes from Boston), it felt like I was, and I was sort of out of the loop with my friends, so the text messages that I was getting were cracking me up: "I don't understand, you're in Boston but you're away for the weekend? Are you in captivity?", "Going to Hurricane O'Reilly's. Want to drop by, or are you busy being exfoliated?" and my personal favorite, "I know you're away, but do you think it would be bad to bring a girly magazine to visit my cousin in the hospital? Nothing hardcore, just like a bikini girl magazine."

All in all, a pretty perfect weekend. It could've only been better if I'd been there with Jason. No offense, mom.

Movies of 07

2/18: Music and Lyrics. The first movie I've seen in a theater this year. Clearly, I get out a lot. Saw it with Kate and liked it. Liked it in that simple way that it's possible to like a straightforward, unapologetic RoCo. No Oscar nods, no complaints, no aftertaste.

1/27: Sideways. Saw this for the second time and loved it just as much as the first go around. However, I stayed in on a Saturday night to watch it, citing fatigue and being cash poor, and then woke up with strep. Lesson learned: Always go out.

1/9: Boys on the Side. I've seen it a million times. Love it.

1/6: The Devil's Own. This is the sort of movie that you'd probably sit on the edge of your couch watching for a few minutes if it happened to come on TBS, until the dryer buzzed or the phone rang. But thanks to my mom's love for The Ford, there were nine of us who spent part of their Saturday watching it. Probably would've been better if they'd just had Brad Pitt be some pawn of organized crime or something rather than involve the whole Northern Ireland debacle, which was totally glossed over anyway in favor of extended shots of Harrison's furrowed brow. Plus, you don't even get to see Brad have so much as a good make-out with Natasha McElhone. Maybe that was for the best, considering I was watching it with my family, but still: robbed!

1/1: The Wedding Date, which I DVRed ages ago. It was pretty terrible, but at the same time it was perfect for a rainy, gray, New Year's Day when I just wanted to lie on the couch and not clean up yet. There was a cute, rally-the-ladies quote in it ("Here's to the guys who've caught you, the losers who've lost you, and the lucky bastards who have yet to meet you") and then about twenty minutes later, Party Jen texted me and said exactly that as her toast to the new year. Weird, huh?

Books of 07

Nothing yet. I'm not much into the book learnin'.

5 Things About Christmas That Are Supposed to be Touching But Pretty Much Just Make Me Want to Lay Down and Die

When Frosty melts. What's the lesson here? That someday everyone we love will die so we might as well enjoy them while we can? Fine, I guess that's an okay lesson. But I still can't hear "Frosty the Snowman knew the sun was hot that day..." without being overwhelmed with dread. My mom claims that when I was little I would become hysterical following Frosty's demise. What a treat I must have been.

When Hermey and Rudolph have to run away together because no one at home can deal with their socially unacceptable nose/fact that they want to be a dentist. Like there's anything wrong with rhinoplasty/dental school? And then the poor bastards end up on the Island of Misfit Toys, which is sort of like claymation's homage to New Jersey, with nary a licensed plastic surgeon or bubble gum-flavored fluoride treatment.

Two words: Christmas Shoes. I'll be experiencing a massive personal trauma like a long line at Bloomingdale's or the effort of avoiding the forlorn gaze of the Salvation Army bell ringer, and then I hear this song, and I suddenly want to cuddle with a homeless person and cut up my Mastercard. Kind of.

A Very Brady Christmas. Have you seen this? It's so great. And it ends with (SPOILER ALERT) Mike getting trapped in one of his buildings as it's collapsing. Personally, I'd rather see the incompetent architect go down with his own crappily built ship rather than an innocent office manager who just works in the damn place. But no worries, Carol sings O Come All Ye Faithful, and Mike is able to toss aside the ninety ton cement slabs than he's pinned beneath. In an emergency situation, it can be tough to decide between calling 911 or Christmas caroling, but thankfully she made the right call. (Miraculously, Carol's singing not only helped Mike emerge unscathed, but Kitty Carryall was also plucked from the rubble, Cindy spontaneously lost her lisp, and Jan suddenly felt okay just being Jan.)

Charlie Brown and his bag of woes. How old is he, like eight? Why is life so difficult? Where the hell are their parents? Charlie just wants to have fun, his friends all mock him, and he incessantly wonders what it's all about. Shut up, I see absolutely no similarities.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

My mom always insists that she hasn't been spoiled by suburbia, that she's still more city girl than circular driveway. Honestly, if there's any Boston left in her, it's strictly Beacon Hill; the woman shops almost exclusively at Talbots and calls a week without a manicure "really chaotic." She grew up in an Irish-Catholic home with a huge oil painting of the Kennedys on the wall and now secretly votes Republican. Don't get me wrong, she's an absolute love, but Dorie and I always delight in her unwillingness to admit that now she's much more "go children slow" than "checks cashed here."

Anyway, my dad is describing an apparently ginormous Christmas lawn decoration that features a snow globe with a penguin that rises out of it. He wants to get it; he says earnestly that it's "wonderful." Same man who came home with a snowman last year that sang and danced to "I'm a Snowman" to the tune of "I'm a Soul Man," which, I have to admit, was pretty freakin' hilarious.

Mom: If you put that thing on the lawn, so help me I'll call someone and have it taken right down.

[Hysterical laughter ensues.]

Mom: I mean, I'LL take it down! I'll take it down myself! I don't need to call anyone to do it! DAMN IT!

Thanks, weird penguin creation, for proving our point once and for all.

What Just Happened: 11/26

This weekend was two weekends in one, which means that I got to execute the pointless mindfuckery that comes into play whenever holiday circumstances allow more than the typical two-day weekend. When the weekend starts on Wednesday, it's like it's Friday. Thursday is Saturday, and Friday is Sunday. And THEN, just when you think your weekend should be over, it starts all over again, because now it's REALLY Saturday! Everything leading up to the real Saturday was just a bonus! Am I the only one who does this?

Fine. I figured as much.

Being home for a couple days was fun. As usual, Thanksgiving was like a party in my mouth and all the Pilgrims were invited. I was somehow coursing with tryptophan before I even ate any turkey. Seriously, I fell asleep every time I sat down. It didn't matter who I was talking to or what the topic was, every conversation was like a big glass of warm milk with a side of Tylenol PM, and I'd wake up twenty minutes later wondering what happened and where I was. So basically, I was your grandpa, minus the brown sweater and glass of bourbon.

Then at dinner I ate potatoes, which would normally be a relatively unremarkable thing, but I don't eat potatoes. When I was a baby, my dad mashed one up for me and I spit it all over him, and that's pretty much been my reaction ever since. But my mom's friend made these sweet potatoes and they were really good. I had two helpings and everyone just stared at me, presumably waiting for my head to spin around and a demon voice to announce that Red's not here anymore.

Friday night, Mardi and I went to Melissa and Joe's to help decorate their tree, eat most of the appetizers we brought, and give Olivia more opportunities to writhe in misery every time I came within ten feet of her. I'm really glad that we're bonding. I can already picture her at three years old, facedown on the carpet and having an epic tantrum because mom and dad went to a movie and left her in the care of some vile, unfathomable monster, i.e. Auntie Red.

After we left Mardi and I went to Watch City, played some pool at a hole in the wall (I won! I won two pool games two days in a row!) and then went to the Skellig for a bit. I rediscovered my adoration of Lose Your Love by the Outfield (I totally just broke out the Microsoft Word thesaurus so I didn't have to say "I rediscovered my love for Lose Your Love... could you tell?). You should all go listen to that song right now, incidentally. "Josie's on a vacation far away..."

On Saturday, I... don't know what I did during the day. Whatever it was must have been fascinating. I met Carly and Kevin for dinner at Iguana Cantina and then we went to Lifestyles, Moody Street's own frosted-glass, ID-required sex shop, where the cashier is knocked up (insert tactless joke here). The predictably skeevy shelf stocker showed off an XXXL t-shirt illustrating all the different kinds of "boobies" and told us that wearing it once helped him get laid, to which I could only reply, "Sir, I simply do not believe you." I decided to start picking up favors for my New Year's goody bags, but the edible undies were pricey, as were the individual packs of anal lube, and they came in chintzy flavors like coconut and berry (wait a second... flavors?). The only affordable thing to buy in bulk was Rough Rider condoms, so I bought them out. Sorry if you went in there right after me hoping to pick some up. But why not treat yourself to some of their watermelon pleasure potion, and check out the Hispanic fetish DVDs; for a limited time you can get three for $30.

After that I met Mardi, Sarah, and some of Mardi's friends at Crowley's, and then we went to the Cherry Tree to bid adieu to our favorite drunk, who is moving to New York next week. I got to second base with Sarah and then booty-called all the restaurants in her phone, because who has Applebee's on their speed dial? (Honestly, maybe I should. I secretly love their chicken fajita wrap, as I've shamefully admitted before.)

Also, I'm suddenly realizing what a klassy girl I am. Maybe this weekend update thing is better in theory.

Thankful For

My family (even Hipster Cousin), because it's (usually) happy and fun and relaxing to be with them, and that's how it should be with family.

My best friends, with whom I'm completely at home and able to talk about anything, and who still love me when I'm being totally lame.

My job, which is (usually) worth getting out of bed for.

Olivia.

Kate Winslet and Embeth Davidtz, because girl crushes are fun.

Jason Varitek and Leonardo DiCaprio, because boy crushes are funner.

Diet Pepsi, online bill paying, and Bare Escentuals, all of which make my life easier.

The fact that tonight, for the first time in the 27 years that I've known him, I beat my friend Jeff at pool. (Incidentally, I'm also thankful that Jeff didn't end up having a mixer before his wedding.)

My Christmas tree (which I put up last weekend, thankyouverymuch) and for the first time ever decorated with just white lights and silver ornaments. It looks like it belongs in the Macy's juniors section.

Crate and Barrel's dark chocolate fondue set, peppermint bark, and edge wine glasses, all of which has put me on board with having a New Year's Eve gathering. I'm going with a silver snowflake, cinnamon stick, cranberry tea lights, warm-you-up theme. (I also want to get a snow cone machine. I found this updated version of the Snoopy classic, which seems oddly cheap, but I really want the old-school one that comes in the doghouse with the shovel. There's a really funny review of that one here.)

Real Simple's special celebrations issue, because that magazine is like heroin to me, AND because it has thrown smoked salmon with creme fraiche, rosemary olives, and a brownie bar into the mix. (As usual, I'm already out of control.)

My blog! I love the Tent and all of you guys, my blogfriends. I'm one of the only ones who doesn't blog at work; I actually do all of it in my free time. What can I say, I'm made of hardy blog stock; I aspire to be grandmommy-blogging someday. Maybe when it's all compiled it will make for interesting reading. Because you really can't hear "Wow, Grandma, you were kind of a slut!" too many times.

Talkin' Turkey

Work Friend (whom some of you met on Halloween) and I are discussing how I failed miserably in coming up with a Thanksgiving song and dance for the kids. For Halloween my crew and I busted a move to Monster Mash and Werewolves of London, and those little dancing candy maniacs were so cute. Alas, there's a drought of turkey songs. Sorry about the Native Americans But Enjoy Your Pie? Here's Hoping Bird Flu Hasn't Hit the Turkey Population? I made the exciting discovery that you can kind of sing "Glad I'm Not a Turkey" to the tune of "We Are Family," but if I'd spent anymore time on that I'm sure someone would've made the helpful suggestion that perhaps there are more constructive things I could be doing at work.

Anyway, we move onto pondering coming-to-a-new-country songs, because when in doubt, rock the Pilgrim vibe. I'm trying to make a case for why America by Neil Diamond, while resplendent in its awesomeness, really seems like less of an anthem for patriotism and more of a flat-out announcement that terrorists are on their way (TODAY!). And then:

Supergirl: Hi guys! I just wanted to say bye and have a happy Thanksgiving!
Me: Hey Super. Are you going to [state her family lives in]?
Supergirl: Yup! I have an almanac!

This is usually the point where I'd say, "Neat! Bye!" but Work Friend doesn't know yet not to go there.

WF: An almanac?
Supergirl: Yeah! It's such a long drive but you know what [Husband] and I do? We'll read the almanac and it'll say stuff like who the ten biggest political figures of the year are! And then I'll read them to [Husband] out of order and he has to put them in order! And we do it with everything! Music and movies and lots of stuff!
WF: Wow!

I give WF a wait-for-it look.

Supergirl: And for every one that he gets right, he gets a point!
Me: There it is. Happy Thanksgiving, Supergirl!

And, of course, the same to the rest of you. Enjoy/tolerate/plot revenge against your family, eat well, and if you'll be revisiting your childhood turf, repress the urge to meet your high school classmates for beers, because really, they're just the same drunk bitches they were fifteen years ago.

Take Five

5 (or 4) Songs For 5 Girls
Jillian - Bright Side of the Road by Van Morrison
Olivia - Let's Get Physical by Olivia Newton-John
Kate - Kate by Ben Folds Five (it has deep metaphorical meaning)
Melissa & Carly - Sweet Home Alabama by Dianne

5 Songs For 5 Boys
Peter - Fading Like a Flower by Roxette (it was my theme for my crush on him circa 1991, and discussing this still makes him flustered)
Ryan - Happy To Be Stuck with You by Huey Lewis (our roommate anthem... why yes, it WAS tremendously lame, thanks for noticing)
Joe's dad - Celebration by Kool & the Gang (don't you guys wish you had a videographer?)
Steve - Cool by Gwen Stefani
Jason Varitek - I Wanna Sex You Up by Color Me Badd I Salute Your Skills in the Sport of Baseball by Respectful Fan

5 Songs From High School
Porch - Pearl Jam
Big Empty - Stone Temple Pilots
Birdhouse in Your Soul - They Might Be Giants
Doll Parts - Hole
Big Star - Letters to Cleo

5 Songs From College
Too Much - Dave Matthews Band
Crush With Eyeliner - R.E.M.
Life in a Northern Town - Dream Academy
Someday I Suppose - Mighty Mighty Bosstones
Never Said - Liz Phair

5 Songs From My Childhood
True Blue - Madonna
How Will I Know - Whitney Houston
Walk Like an Egyptian - The Bangles
Straight Up - Paula Abdul
What a Feeling - Irene Cara (I still sometimes hear it and fantasize that it's my final song right before I win the gold medal for ice skating in the Olympics. Everyone is cheering me on and I am wearing all sparkly silver.)

5 Songs That Old Boyfriends Have Put on Mix Tapes For Me
Add it Up - Violent Femmes
Tangled Up in Blue - Bob Dylan
Good - Better than Ezra (wah-huh)
Too Drunk to Fuck - Dead Kennedys
Just Like Heaven - The Cure (who doesn't have an old boyfriend mix tape with this on it?)

5 Songs That Every Annoying Girl I've Ever Known Has Loved
Ice Cream - Sarah McLachlan
Every Little Thing She Does is Magic - The Police
Magic Carpet Ride - Steppenwolf
You Were Meant For Me - Jewel
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls

5 Songs That If I Found Out You Knew By Heart I'd Immediately Be Best Friends With You
Magic Dance - David Bowie
The Age of Not Believing - Angela Lansbury
Email my Heart - Britney Spears
The Frug - Rilo Kiley
New Version of You - Felicity (new wallpap-err, new shoe leath-err...)

5 Songs That I'd Slow Dance To With a Stranger, With My Head On His Shoulder and Eyes Closed, Rather Than Not Slow Dance To It At All
If You Leave Me Now - Chicago
After All - Peter Cetera and Cher
Making Love Out of Nothing at All - Air Supply
Take My Breath Away - Berlin
Can You Feel the Love Tonight - a lion (right?... isn't it from The Lion King?)

5 Songs That Amuse Me To No End
88 Lines About 44 Women - They Might Be Giants (everyone should write a song like this!)
Ignition (Remix) by R. Kelly (sippin' on coke and rum, I'm like so what I'm drunk, it's the freakin' weekend baby, I'm about to have me some fun...) I could quote this song all day and still not capture its perfection.
Temperature - Sean Paul (I wanna be the papa, you can be the mom)
Fergalicious - Fergie (too far, Fergadacious...TOO FAR)
I Hope You Dance - Lee Ann Womack (best wishes for continued success, and please don't call me anymore)

5 Songs That Summarize My Shortcomings Pretty Well
The Lady is a Tramp by Ella Fitzgerald (har har... listen to the words before you flood me with your wisecracks, snarky pants)
Don't Change Your Plans by Ben Folds Five
Everything to Everyone by Everclear
Oops! I Did It Again by Britney Spears
Mark's part in Goodbye Love on the Rent soundtrack

5 Songs That I Just Freakin' Love, I Don't Care What You Say
Learning to Fly - Tom Petty
Steppin' Out - Joe Jackson
Summer Breeze - Seals and Crofts
The Only Living Boy in New York - Simon and Garfunkel
17 Again - Eurythmics

What Just Happened: 11/19

I'm going to try and do more regular weekend updates, because I never write in my actual journal anymore, and I can never remember what the hell I got up to once Monday rolls around. So, yeah. This grand effort should last for about the next two weeks.

On Friday, after two full days of hearings at work, during which I ask a lawyer if it's possible to have a stroke at 29, I agree to make a lightning-fast run into Macy's with my one male coworker, who has been asking me for help picking out products because his mom really likes "Horizons." It takes me awhile to understand that he means Origins. I'm checking out Estee Lauder's Pure White Linen and he sprays it on me instead of the tester strip. Luckily it's a scent that Gwyneth markets which means it's light and airy and practically nonexistent in its boringness.

When we finally get to Origins, it turns out that I know way more than the woman behind the counter. This is a dubious honor, though... what exactly am I aspiring to here? I make some suggestions, become temporarily obsessed with their Modern Friction dermabrasion, and then make tracks to Mardi's, where wine and friends and fondu is happening. I end up agreeing to have a New Year's Eve party, like I really needed convincing. "I'm always the hostess! Even when I was little, the girls brought their dollies to MY tea party. I served the best air." (Guess who.)

Later on at the Cherry Tree, they have blueberry back on tap which as far as I'm concerned puts them back in business. I get a shake-five-hug from our old favorite, John (say what you will, but he's now hooked up with two of my friends... how many others can claim the same?). I overhear and am slightly bewildered by a group of corporate types (all men) toasting K-Fed. Unless they're his legal team, what's the deal there? Mardi is chatting with Some Guy and during a lull in the conversation she asks Party Jen and I what she should talk to him about. I suggest asking him if he's a naughty boy, and then nearly choke on my beer when she immediately turns back to him and does. I'm always happy to alter a G-rated vibe; you're all very welcome. I'm unspeakably tired but perk up long enough to sing Don't Stop Believin' to Jen, because that song is like caffeine. I turn off my phone because it's turning into Text Message Creek, head home, find that I now have a blog theme (thanks Keith), and finally fall into bed around 1:30, a few hours later than I would have liked.

On Saturday, Melissa and Joe bring Olivia over to my parents' house, where my dad surprises one and all by serenading her with Let's Get Physical (get it? Olivia Newton-John?) and makes the open-ended suggestion, that I know will become a catchphrase in our friend arsenal (frarsenal), "Hi Olivia! Let's talk about stuff!"

By the way, my honorary niece is almost four months old and rocks the casbah. She is brilliant, beautiful, and will probably be running a small country by this time next year.

They also finally meet Dorie, and her eight-year-old daughter, who is also my parents' goddaughter (got all that? This is probably why I usually don't do extremely specific entries) and for whom my mom has purchased what can only be described as starter hooker boots. But I got her lip gloss and a pink purse so I suppose we're both in cahoots to lure her down that path.

After Melissa and Joe head home, the rest of us go to dinner at the airfield cafe in Stow, where they have homemade peppermint ice cream and a goldfish pond but no heat, apparently. I get back home, delighted at the prospect of sleep. Crazy Neighbor is having a party and there are guests in what he calls our courtyard and what I call our front lawn. I smile and wave and try to escape into my apartment, but he sees me and insists on introducing me around as his "social butterfly neighbor, coming in at eight o'clock on a Saturday night!" Thanks, buddy. I do a quick round with him, during which I'm looked up and down no less than ten times, as all his guests are dressed to the nines and I'm somewhere around the fours. I'm just a neighbor who wants to be polite and then go home, watch a little bit of Junebug on DVR, talk to Kate, and go to sleep.

Sunday morning (oh, this morning), after sleeping for nearly 12 hours, I meet Mark for coffee (hot chocolate for me) and during a story he tells me that something "is crazy, but it's true," which inspires us to sing Arthur's Theme for a couple minutes. Or, rather, each of us say one line and then defy the other to recall the next. It's best if you can play this game in a really functional way, i.e. "Hey, I think your coat is caught between the moon and that other chair."

Which just reminded me of a really funny blog entry about that song that I once read. If you deconstruct 80s soft rock, you are guaranteed to earn one enthusiastic link from me.

One Day at a Time

As the year draws to a close, it's time to reflect. Time to ponder. Time to buy a new day-to-day calendar!

I love day-to-day calendars. Love! Them! I don't really know why. I keep one in my bathroom, and every morning when I wake up I tear off a new page and then I just feel like I own the day. It's a special feeling, you guys.

It's also a commitment. I can't spend the year with just any old pile of paper and glue. This year I was happy to share my tooth-brushing with Jon Stewart. But since I can't really bear the idea of this, and I don't think there's a House of Carters calendar yet (why the hell not, though), I need some ideas.

The Complete Runner's Day-by-Day Log and Calendar 2007: Start small, Red, like maybe going to the gym occasionally.

Mary Engelbreit's The Happy Side of Me 2007 Day-to-Day Calendar: I'm a little touched by all the sweetness and light, but stuff like "Life is a bouquet of love and hearts" would inevitably start pissing me off by, say, January third.

Jeopardy! 2007 Day-to-Day Calendar: Ooh, the useless information I could spew forth. Can you imagine having a conversation with me? I'd be categorizing everything and only asking questions.

365 New Words-A-Year Page-A-Day Calendar 2007: I could be SO SMART by 2007. I mean 2008. While I'm at it, I should get a calendar that helps me learn what year it is.

Shoes Gallery Calendar 2007: Good morning! Look what you can't afford!

The Wine Lover's Page-A-Day Calendar 2007: Good morning! Look what you can't drink until after work!

The Civil War 2007 Day-to-Day Calendar: Do you have to wait until December of 2007 to find out how it ends? Spoiler alert: Sell your slaves now because they're about to be so two centuries ago.

Zelda Wisdom 2007 Day-to-Day Calendar: I was hoping this was going to be advice from the little guy with the gold sword, but it appears to not be that at all. What would Link have to share with us? "Always keep your shield up and stab people who are mean to you"?

Medical Bloopers 2007 Day-to-Day Calendar: I don't know about you, but misdiagnoses and malpractice sure spell early morning comedy to me.

Becky Kelly's Enchanted Little Moments 2007 Mini Day-to-Day Calendar: Shove it, Becky.

The Best of 14,000 Things To Be Happy About Calendar 2007: Becky, seriously. Give it a rest.

Bible Verses in a Box 2007 Calendar: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BECKY.

I still haven't found one. Please send help.

Surveysciousness

What was your favorite concert?
The concerts that have been ecstatic experiences for me are as follows: They Might Be Giants, because at the height of my obsession with them they came to play at my high school (where they also went to school). I was 15 and it was utterly surreal. I also saw Ben Folds Five at the height of my obsession with THEM, shortly before he ditched the Five (well, two) and none of his subsequent shows really measured up (although his Rockin' the Suburbs tour was good). And then, of course, Paul McCartney a few years ago. Bizarre, endless opening act, and then suddenly he's behind a giant screen holding his guitar above his head and then the screen comes up and he launches into Hello Goodbye. And IT'S REALLY HIM! I saw him again earlier this year and it was great, but it's never the same as your first time.

Who was your favorite Goonie?
Okay, lots to say about this. First of all, I had a crush on Brand, and I loved his nickname. Second of all, I didn't like either of the girls. They were all like that in 80s movies: stupid and cute or reasonably intelligent and masculine. Third of all, is Cyndi Lauper's Good Enough one of the best songs of that era or what? Fourth of all, and to actually answer the question, my favorite was Mikey, of course, with all his guts and glory and his inhaler. Although his speech ("It's their time. It's their time up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here!") wasn't as compelling as he probably intended it to be. "Pronoun! Preposition! Same pronoun again!"

What was the best video of the 80s?
The best was the first one I ever saw: Take On Me by A-Ha. YES IT WAS. The drawing coming to life! The romance! The way he almost DIED when they crumpled the PAPER! I'll be defending this choice on my deathbed, because I'm right and also how funny would it be to be discuss A-Ha when you should be clarifying your will or something.

Who has it better, Grey's Anatomy or Lost watchers?
Even though it sucks, I'd have to go with Grey's, because at least that show isn't on hiatus until FEBRUARY. You better have made some headway on that island by then, bitches. No more letting those creepy-talking Others keep you in cages. I'm talking to you, Greasy Haired Scowler and Noticeably Buffer Party of Five Guy.

Who has it better, Britney or K-Fed?
Depends on the pre-nup, I guess. Brit has potential to put out some new songs for the next fun mix (which, incidentally, was pre-named "Knock Knock. Who's there? FUN!" by Party Jen) but overall I'm not sure this is the big emancipation everyone's thinking it is. That girl's dumb as a post and the next guy probably won't be much better.

Who has it better, singles or marrieds?
Yikes, way to draw those battle lines. I think if you've met the right person, you're happier being married, and if you haven't, you're happier being single. Except if you don't really have friends, you're probably happier being in a relationship. I've found that single people who are total drones about wanting to meet The One never seem to have much else going on.

Would you help your best friend in a fight if he/she was losing?
Of course! My loyalty combined with my delusions of toughness would throw me right smack into that fray. First I'd try to battle the punk by busting some rhymes ("Bat! Cat! Hat!") but if that didn't work, I'd pull out my blade and get a little West Side Story (by which I mean dance frantically in the street and hope the problem resolved itself).

How would you have been different if you'd grown up in the 60s?
I guess I'd be all hopped up on LSD, alarmingly free with the love, and wearing flowers in my hair. Man.

How do you feel about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie?
Islands in the stream, that is what we are.

Who's your favorite TV character?
Monica Geller, because I understand.

What's your favorite thing to do on weekends?
Just be with my peoples. Doesn't really matter what we do; I'm easy. Easily entertained, that is. Excuse you.

State of the Products

Fellow citizens: As we gather tonight, our nation is at war, our economy hovers on the brink of recession, and the civilized world faces unprecedented dangers. Yet the products have never been better. (Applause.)

For me: Creme de la Mer moisturizing cream, because there is no other. You only use a tiny bit at a time, so two ounces can last for close to a year. Cetaphil facial cleanser. Kiehl's avocado eye cream. There's no better make-up than Bare Escentuals. Go right to Sephora and get the starter kit in your skin tone. Really. You can thank me later. Clinique Almost Lipstick in Black Honey, CO Bigelow rose salve, Palmer's cocoa butter stick, Aquaphor for whatever ails your epidermis. NARS hydrating body serum, Bath & Body Works Grin and Bare It, and Nivea smooth sensation. I also really like the La Mer body lotion, but it's absurdly expensive and I only have it because it was a gift. Also, carry a tiny Purell with lotion in your bag and you won't remember how you ever lived without it (no, really, it's good stuff, and not as rubbing alcoholy as straight Purell).

For my bathroom: Kerastase nutritive and L'oreal vive pro shampoo and conditioner, Fresh soda shampoo and pomegranate conditioner. I alternate which ones I use and avoid my hairdresser's voice mail death threats that it's been MONTHS and she can only imagine how long and full of split ends my hair must be now. (True story. She's a family friend.) Origins' Never a Dull Moment and Bath & Body Works I'm in the Mood for Scrub. Skintimate with baby oil, the Venus. Philosophy senorita margarita hot salt scrub and their cinnamon buns 3-in-1. Johnson's softwash and a rubber ducky.

For your bathroom: Guests in my home can rock it out in a bathroom stocked with either L'Occitane or Bliss minis. I like to switch it up because I live on the edge. The shower/tub has Nexxus Therappe shampoo and conditioner, Biotherm Aquathermale body wash, Philosophy Falling in Love bubble bath, and Dove exfoliating body wash. No bars of soap; sorry boys, can't do it. You also get your own ducky. Oh, and there's a bottle of Bath & Body Works aromatherapy sleep lotion on the guest room bedside table. (While organizing the haunted house at my Halloween party last month, I mistook it for a beer in the dark and almost asked Steve to throw it out, until Kate caught my near-tragic mistake.)

For Maliavale: The thing about perfume is that I sort of love it and sort of don't. If I really like a scent, I usually prefer its accompanying lotion, since walking past too many ladies who overspray has scared me out of ever inadvertently becoming one of them. Plus, I very rarely find a scent that I really like, since I think a lot of perfumes smell the same, sort of like eau de trying a tiny bit too hard. Having now talked this to death, I like (and own) Chanel No. 5, Burberry Brit, and Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely.

And finally, for the record: This was the year that I tried ProActiv. I don't have acne (thank God, since I'm all growed up) but I figured if it could make all those stars look so glowy, I could get on board with that. Yeah, don't do it. I loved it for about a week (and gleefully announced "I'm using ProActiv!" to people who would inevitably shake their heads in response), and then one morning I woke up looking like a burn victim. Bottom line: Jessica Simpson LIES.

In the Stars

The company that my dad works for rents out Borders Books for one night every November. It's mostly a kid-oriented thing: face-painting, magician, balloons and whatnot. Everything in the store is also heavily discounted, so hello Christmas shopping. We go every year.

This year there was an astrologer. He was sitting in the metaphysical studies section! With a laptop! And looking like he could've done my taxes! Seriously, the guy was completely normal looking. I was expecting a woman in a crazy dress, long gray hair with a bird's nest, potions and spells and goblins.

So my new friend used his understanding of celestial rhythms and an iBook to read the sky on the day that I was born. He told me that I'm a very detail-oriented person who thinks that my way is the right way, and that I have strong opinions about how things should be run, particularly in the home. He also told me that when I'm at work, I actually do work. It's uncanny: I was just complaining about the "having to do crap" aspect of my job.

He asked if I was married. "Can't you tell?"

He didn't appreciate this. He's not a psychic. Apparently there's a difference.

He pointed out that I have a very strong indicator for marriage. "Oh. Is he tall?" He couldn't tell me this. Moreover, I've missed the point. God, Red. Respect the cosmos.

"Pluto is indicating a very powerful relationship on your horizon." Apparently "on the horizon" literally means in the sky, not arriving shortly at my door with flowers and little to no emotional scarring. "This relationship will be with a very intense person and will affect you profoundly."

"Intense? He's also laid-back though, right?"

At that point an old woman in line was laughing at me. Whatever, lady, I think you can wait to learn about your imminent death.

Next he told me that when I have fun, I have FUN. Then he spelled fun. I now plan to blame my Tuesday morning hangovers on the planets. I can't control the whims of the solar system, people!

Your Blog's So Ugly That

Me: I have to tell you something really shameful.
Kate: Yay!
Me: I just laughed at a joke on Yo Momma and said, out loud, alone in my apartment, "Good one."
Kate: Did you try to high five the TV?
Me: The guy said, "Yo momma's so fat that when she lays on the beach, Greenpeace pushes her right back into the water." And I was the only one who laughed, including the audience. Or... street gang. What's the deal with that show, anyway?
Kate: They should have a spinoff with blond jokes.
Me: And the joke right after that was, "Yo momma's breath stinks so much that if she were a character on Star Wars she'd be Chewcaca." And Kate, those people went CRAZY with laughter! I have literally never heard anything less funny, and I mean dating back to Michelle's "how rude" on Full House.
Kate: I believe Michelle was "you got it dude."
Me: Oh right. Well, that was subtle wit over a bottle of merlot compared to Chewcaca.
Kate: The winner was from Hell's Kitchen.
Me: There are WINNERS?
Kate: Ouch.
Me: They're all winners in my eyes.
Kate: How Special Olympics of you.

100 Things

1. I like spicy food. I like Frank's red hot sauce, extra hot salsa, and whole pepperoncinis.

2. On my first report card my teacher previewed my lifelong hatred of math when she wrote, "Red will occasionally use her fingers to count."

3. I started writing when I was six. I used to wake up really early and write stories about My Little Ponies and Care Bears and Tom Sawyer.

4. When people ask what my favorite TV show is, I usually say The Office or House, and I do like those shows, but my secret answer is Friends reruns on TBS.

5. Everything you've heard is true: my first boyfriend became a woman.

6. Aside from her, I'm still friends with most of my exes. I've dated some really great people.

7. My parents didn't mean for me to be an only child, but my mom was really sick when she was pregnant with me and then I broke her ass during delivery so I think they figured, okay then, one is fine.

8. When I went to college, there was a computer error and my roommate and I ended up on an all guys' floor. They had to vote about whether or not she and I could stay.

9. Corny as it sounds, I think that computer error was kind of a formative thing for me. It taught me to appreciate and keep great guy friends in my life.

10. I love my female friends and am very picky about the women I get close to. I think all women have learned to be careful. Men can be stupid and ignorant, but they don't usually mess with you. Women, on the other hand, can really be evil shrews.

11. Having said all that, I have awesome friends.

12. I don't understand people who eat a few Thin Mints but not the entire sleeve.

13. I love to go out dancing, but I hate it at the same time. I wish there were places to go that weren't all drunk 22-year-old girls wearing uncomfortable shoes glaring at other drunk 22-year-old girls wearing uncomfortable shoes.

14. I have a hardcore product addiction.

15. Not to say that I'm a clean freak, but I enjoy my life a lot more when I know my home is clean.

16. Not to say that I'm a clean freak, but I have my students addicted to antibacterial hand gel. Now they run up to me, hold out their hands, and ask for either regular (straight Purell) or raspberry (Bath & Body Works black raspberry vanilla).

17. I'm so obsessed with peanut butter that I usually don't keep it in the house, because if I did I'd eat it for every meal.

18. If my home is messy and there's peanut butter in the cabinet, something is wrong. Feel free to ask what's up, but I may cry.

19. I don't mind when it gets dark early in the winter. I think it's cozy.

20. Although by the time April rolls around I definitely start to get anxious for more sunshine.

21. I feel like I'm on the phone all night long.

22. I can bust out with the A-Team theme song on command.

23. Movies I know by heart: Dazed and Confused, Clerks, Heathers, The Princess Bride, Clueless, Back to the Future, Napolean Dynamite, Singles, Reality Bites, Labyrinth, It's a Wonderful Life, and The Breakfast Club.

24. I love the board game Moods. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE, I know hates it, and no one will play it with me anymore. Things that have actually been said to me: "If I see that game again, I'll set it on fire." "If you don't stop bringing that game out, nobody is going to be friends with you." And sometimes simply "NO." (There are people on that website who like it. I wonder if any of them would play it with me. Maybe we could have a support group.)

25. I'm addicted to mints, preferably Icebreakers in the round blue container. I eat them all day long.

26. I used to love Olivia Newton-John. LOVE.

27. Yeah, it's my natural hair color. I'm surprised how many strangers care enough to ask.

28. When I was little, having red hair made me feel like the kid in the darkened square in the "which of these kids doesn't belong here" skit on Sesame Street or whatever show that was on. Then sometime around high school I stopped hating it.

29. My hair and I have really come full circle, you see.

30. I really don't care about animals. I don't kick puppies or anything, but I just don't have a need for animals in my life.

31. By day I aspire to be a woman of leisure. By night I solve crimes.

32. I'm weird about deadlines and anything on my to do list. I want to get everything done ahead of time or else I feel out of control. I think it's because my natural tendency is toward laziness and procrastination and I try to fight it.

33. According to Myers-Brigg, I'm an ENFP. I think it sounds a lot like me, but you know how it is with that stuff... because it's supposed to sound like you, it sounds like you. Kinda like horoscopes.

34. I don't have a Boston accent. I grew up in a suburb about an hour outside of the city.

35. I have two identical pairs of blue moon pajamas that I'd wear everywhere if I could. Everyone I know has seen them and I have worn them to friends' homes. I mean, not for parties. But still. Have I no shame?

36. I love owning movies, but I hardly ever watch them.

37. I like to read books about random crap, like sleep disorders.

38. I've been making fun song mix CDs for my friends for several years. They have songs like Coldhearted Snake and Rock the Casbah and OPP on them. Their names are: The Fun Mix, The Fun Strikes Back, The Return of the Fun, Did Someone Order More Fun, Would You Like Fun With That, and Go Fun Yourself. I'm always open to suggestion for subsequent titles. You know, things like Putting The Fun in Dysfunctional, Flora and Funna, that kinda thing. Only funny.

39. I loved college. I even mostly liked high school.

40. My one extracurricular activity in college was writing my column in the school paper. I also wrote all my friends' campaign speeches for their random positions in student government.

41. My grandmother lives in a retirement community that sounds like college but with nice accomodations and no gen-ed classes. Now I'm so ready to get old.

42. Even though I've always been a mostly happy person, things feel very different now than they did when I was in my early 20s. Calmer, happier, richer (but not really in money).

43. I like going to the movies alone occasionally, but only at an off time during the day. I can't do it alone at night without feeling self-conscious.

44. I don't like any sports except for baseball.

45. I love baseball.

46. The quickest way to shut me down is to be passive-aggressive or overdramatic.

47. I thought getting older would make me feel displaced, but 29 feels about right. So far every age I've been has felt like the age to be.

48. I can't promise that that will be the last lame soundbite you'll ever hear out of me.

49. I'm very pale and sunburn easily.

50. I call the foods/drink that I don't like my Big Five: potatoes, (unmelted) cheese, beans, bananas, and coffee. Some people don't like one or two of them, but I've never met anyone else who doesn't like all five.

51. When I was little I did gymnastics, and during a recital one time I was doing a million somersaults through a tunnel, and I stopped halfway through and cried because I felt claustrophobic.

52. I love getting pedicures but still bite my fingernails.

53. My old school Nintendo is in my hall closet, and if I ever plugged it in, believe you me I'd play Super Mario Brothers and Tetris all the live long day.

54. When I'm in a hotel, I'm all like, "Where's the TV? I want to watch TV."

55. Which is kind of weird because while I have a TV in my bedroom at home, I hardly ever watch it.

56. I love nice hotels.

57. I'd love to live someplace in Boston that's ridiculously high-end with a concierge and doorman and floor to ceiling windows and granite countertops and warming drawers and a whirlpool bath.

58. Not to raise kids in or anything, but, you know, for now.

59. I can be a bit of a snob.

60. I was a cow in a school play in kindergarten. I didn't tell my parents until the night before, and my dad found me a cowbell and had the word "moo" printed on a t-shirt. My teachers didn't think it was funny.

61. I hate the show Everybody Loves Raymond. I don't like the generic humor, and I also don't like when marriage gets portrayed as one long, boring, impatient eyeroll. It's shows like that that keep single people promiscuous.

62. I love Dance Dance Revolution more than I can adequately articulate.

63. I have recurring dreams about missing the school bus.

64. I used to teach ESL on the side, but then I was all like, assimilate on your own, bitches.

65. I love bad soft rock from the 80s. Love. It.

66. When The Sixth Sense was out, I hated the people who said they knew Bruce Willis was dead the whole time, even though you know they didn't.

67. I didn't know he was dead until the big reveal. I own my slowness.

68. I dropped out of Girl Scouts because I hated them, all of them, and their stupid badges.

69. I secretly like the chicken fajita wrap at Applebee's.

70. I loved Sassy magazine.

71. I like pickles.

72. I sort of want to get my doctorate.

73. I hate all the letter shows: CSI, SVU, ER.

74. I don't like violent or scary TV shows or movies in general.

75. When I saw Rent, I very much identified with the character Mark.

76. I still do.

77. I'm watching Shopgirl on HBO right now. I hated the book (novella, whatever) but loved the movie.

78. I love books and movies that acknowledge that relationships can be complex and explore that without Hugh Granting everything up.

79. Did you see Spanglish? Or read Little Children? Those are good examples.

80. I still like to watch girly movies but I usually hate the way they end. When people fight all the time or can't get their shit together, they probably wouldn't make a very good couple.

81. Although I did like how that one girly movie, My Best Friend's Wedding, ended. Not just because she didn't get the guy, but because the characters ended up not being entirely black or white, totally lame or entirely perfect.

82. Whenever my girlfriends ask me for advice about guys, I find myself practically quoting Walk Away by Kelly Clarkson. That song has so many levels, people.

83. I don't really like anything floral: patterns, perfumes. But I love actual flowers.

84. I love the seasons in New England. I don't understand the appeal of living anyplace where it's sunny and warm year round. As Cameron Crowe said, the sweet isn't as sweet without the sour.

85. I get a headache if I don't drink Diet Pepsi by about 3:00. I guess it's my crack. At least it's cheap.

86. I like gummy bears, but don't you feel like we'll find out someday that they're really made of plastic and that they just sit in a ball in your stomach and you never really digest them? And that eventually we'll all give birth to an eight pound gummy baby? Were you with me until that last sentence?

87. I wear sunglasses all year round, even on overcast days, because my eyes hurt when I don't. My eye doctor told me that's because my eyes are so light.

88. I'm like an enzyme away from being an albino.

89. Well, not literally.

90. One of my first clients in grad school was a woman with severe brain damage from a bike accident. If I find out you ride a bike without a helmet, I will berate you, publicly if necessary, until you change your ways.

91. Same with wearing a seatbelt.

92. There are so many places I want to visit. A few are Spain, Ireland, Iceland, Italy, Egypt, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Hawaii...

93. I've been to Bermuda, Bahamas (come on pretty mama), St. Maarten, St. Thomas, and Mexico, but not Europe yet. How lame am I? But on the flip side, how much of a thorough spring breaker?

94. I'm so done with guys with guitars who take themselves too seriously.

95. I'm not, however, done loving Eddie Vedder. 15 years and going strong. It's practically a common law marriage.

96. I enjoy people who wear perfume perfectly. They're very much in the minority. You hug them and suddenly can't believe how delicious they smell, but you're not overwhelmed by said deliciousness. How do they do it?

97. I'm not asking because I want to do it myself, because I don't really like to wear perfume, but I'd like them to educate others. You know who you are. Or actually, you don't, and that's kind of the problem.

98. That sounded vaguely threatening. I should say that I wasn't referring to anyone I know. YOU all smell good. Really. I can hardly believe the pleasantness that wafts from you. I'm talking more about people in elevators whose noses apparently don't work.

99. In high school my friend Alison's mom didn't have a sense of smell. That girl took advantage and smoked more pot than anyone alive.

100. I'm honestly starting to think that Mapquest is just screwing with us. I just do not know how to drive northeast.

Guess the Movie

And if you can do that easily, smart guy, try to come up with a line that we missed.

Me: a compliment for us...
Joe: is a compliment for you!
Me: steve, don't come yet
Joe: you dare rip the x-man
Joe: sonics have a good team
Me: come to debbie country
Joe: cliff, while we're young?
Joe: i am very, very lonely
Me: janet, i could not be fooling you less
Joe: are my breasts too small for you?
Me: sometimes?
Joe: you're dr. jamison!
Joe: many, many babes are into that!
Me: mr. sensitive ponytail man
Joe: he is not mr. sensitive ponytail man!
Joe: you've made popcorn with half the city!
Me: hey! maybe i've been hurt
Joe: at least i don't have to CHASE the popcorn
Me: pow pow pow pow pow! of course you may be busy
Joe: you are the king... THE KING!
Me: what's so funny about peace peace peace
Joe: love and... peace peace peace
Joe: put it up against something white
Me: i was just nowhere near your neighborhood
Joe: what took you so long?
Me: i was stuck in traffic
Joe: a) i could come up with an act or b) i could just be myself. i chose b. what do you think?
Joe: i think that a) you have an act, and b) not having an act is your act
Me: eddie watching the bees... "ssshhh"
Joe: 20 numbers of 20 girls that you will never call
Me: i'm walking down the avenue! and i'm looking at the garbage can
Joe: and i'm laughing at the people i see--hee-hee
Me: am i coming off too intense? cause i can be intensely laid back
Joe: basically, my name is dick and you can touch me
Me: i want to meet someone who feels the same way i do. about a bike.
Joe: guy with the bicycle
Joe: he's like your soulmate
Me: debbie, he's only like the next martin scor-sees
Joe: debbie, remember when you told me to tell you when you're being plastic? well you're being plastic.
Me: and what comes out? SPAM!
Joe: and he was ably backed by stone and jeff and drummer eddie vedder
Me: that's good, that's a good review
Joe: all this negative energy just makes us stronger. tonight we rock portland!
Me: YEAH!
Joe: i'll replace the windows
Me: have fun, stay single. i was eight.

Random Halloween Memories

Being a redhead growing up in the 80s, I kept hearing that I should dress up as Pebbles Flinstone, so one Halloween I made it happen. I got all prehistoric and even glued a plastic bone to a hair clip. My hair defied gravity. And the only reaction I remember is a woman who looked at me and said, "Oh! You're a... cavewoman!"

I always forgot to ask for pennies to fill the Unicef box they handed out to us at school and I always got lectured the next day. What can I say, teach, I had candy on the brain, and let's face it, Ethiopian kids are probably getting used to not eating.

My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Redfern, played the movie Watcher in the Woods for the class on Halloween. Since it was put out by Disney, I'm sure she assumed it was harmless enough. Almost twenty years later, I'm still a little traumatized by it. It's the scariest movie I've ever seen, and I didn't even see the whole thing. She ended up having to turn it off halfway through because everyone got so upset. When I was in college, I told my friends this story and they insisted we rent it on Halloween. Even I assumed it would be more funny than scary, but that was not the case. Only a few were able to make it all the way through, and I wasn't one of them.

One time at a Halloween party I ended up hooking up with my friend's brother. In my defense, he was dressed as He-Man.

I only went to Salem on Halloween once, in college. I dressed up as a witch; I'm nothing if not creative. 98 Degrees was playing on a little stage. They were a new band and hadn't yet made the lasting impression on the landscape of pop music that they have today. (Give me just one night! Una noche!) They were trying to engage a mostly bored audience, and Drew Lachey asked me if I was a good bad witch or a bad bad witch. I wanted to play along, but it was such a weird question that I could only say, "What?" If only I had a time machine and could take advantage of my proximity to Nick Lachey that night, and tell him that I'm from the future and that he must not marry Jessica Simpson. Or waste another day trapped in the shadow of his mistakes.

In my early 20s I went to a friend's party dressed as an angel, and later on left my halo in the backseat of a cab. Doesn't that sound like a Bob Dylan lyric?

Also, my parents didn't start handing out full-size candy bars until after I didn't live with them anymore. What the hell?

Boo

The last load is in the dishwasher, I've washed off all the purple hair dye and glitter, and I'm grateful for the extra hour of sleep that I'll get tonight. The Halloween party was lots of fun, if I may say so myself... lit only by candles, a glow stick centerpiece, creepy music, and haunted house upstairs with elaborate plot lines and horror movie sequel quality acting. The final headcount was eighteen, which I think hit that middle ground between mellow and rowdy. But of course it's easy to have fun when you have the coolest friends ever. Every time I turned around, somebody was telling me how great somebody else was.

Greatest hits: Carly Flav wore a clock with her face on it and Joe came as Father Time, reminding us to turn our clocks back. I guess those two were just in the right place at the right... I mean, they were really in the nick of... all right, I'll let that one go. Melissa kept cracking me up with her editorial comments as I was trying to be the creepy haunted house tour guide, Kate dressed up as Angelina Jolie complete with huge wax lips and multicultural children, despite Kevin's claims that he came as Enthusiastic Vacation Guy I still maintain that he was striving to be Crazy Neighbor (minus the crazy, of course), Steve brought back the infamous Mad Hatter costume from Halloween shindigs of yesteryear, and Dave selflessly bartended all night long. Vying for most brilliant party foul of all time, Keith fell in a bush right before he was about to walk over and say hello to a friend he hadn't seen in years. And on the Tent-centric front, Party Jen told me that she met someone and they asked, "Are you in the blog?" That's straight up PR, kids, and I'll take it.

There's probably more, but I'm tired. Yay sugar rush!

Here's To Two Years Ago Today

For awhile (86 years, to be exact), it wasn't looking good.









And then... and THEN...









Go ahead and say it, New Yorkers. I eat your hate like love.

The Best Laid Plans

Melissa, Carly and I made plans to meet for dinner last night. I got there early and went to the Walgreens next door to stock up on Halloween booty for this weekend: glow sticks, candy corn, dum dums, spider rings, gummy bats. You know, everything you might need for a gathering of children adults.

When I was paying for everything, the cashier asked me why I had nine glow sticks. "Oh, are they priced by the pair?" I asked. Nope, she was just curious. Turns out "grabbing a handful" was a foreign concept to her.

She also took a full minute to look through a circular and see if anything I was buying was discounted. Granted, it was nice of her, but sixty seconds is actually a long time to idly peruse coupons when you've got a line of people waiting. The guy behind me was just buying one thing and couldn't have been glaring at me any harder. I thought about throwing a quick apology at him, but he was sighing so dramatically that instead I left him to stew miserably in my peripheral vision.

I've been buying random crap very enthusiastically for my party gathering. Kate told me she picked up a few things too, one of which was fake cobwebs. I swear I could practically hear the collective intake of breath from everyone in the world who knows me. Fake cobwebs? In my home? To give the illusion of not having cleaned in months? Great! No, no, that's fine, really! I'll just pop a few Percocet and everything will be good.

Bad enough that I practically hit on my neighbor's cleaning people earlier today. They knocked on my door to ask where they should park. "Oh, that spot right there is fi...hey, is that a Dyson? What, um, what are you guys doing after this?"

Moment of silence for the Dyson. Steve dreams of the perfect Mustang, Elusive Jen dreams of the perfect Vera Wang dress, but I dream that someday that beautiful, complicated piece of machinery will be mine, all mine.

Anyway, where the hell was I? Right, meeting Melissa and Carly for dinner. So I walk next door to the restaurant, sit at the bar and order a glass of wine. You know you should've ordered beer when your options are either Kendall Jackson or the house chardonnay, but I digress.

The Globe is right there so I start reading it, which I never do now that I don't live with anyone who subscribes. I end up making my way through pretty much the entire thing: City & Region, Living Arts, Sports... although it did strike me that sitting alone at a bar reading the sports section felt a little bit like something a dating coach would tell you to do, along with drinking beer from the bottle and wearing a t-shirt that says "Not Really Looking For Anything Serious."

After awhile there were guys sitting on either side of me who were mildly entertaining. One of them used to own a bar in Palm Springs, and those spring breakers, man, they were crazy! "Did you ever go on spring break there?"

"No, I went to Florida."

"Key West?"

"Orlando." I'm not volunteering that it was Disney World. Let the world think I was a crazy partier in my day. Hey, we stayed off Disney property! If that's not living life, I don't know what is.

"Orlando! Well, it can get crazy there, too!"

I started to realize that it was closing on 45 minutes past when Melissa said she'd meet me, but I figured she got held up at work or in traffic or something. I debated calling, but then I thought, of course she knows she's running late, and does she need me to call her and clarify that point? So I called Carly, logically enough, even though she wasn't meeting up until later, but my call wouldn't go through because my reception was going in and out. Which of course meant that all my incoming calls were going straight to voice mail. I kept glancing over my shoulder to check out what I could see of the entrance area, but I didn't see anyone I knew.

I noticed that the guy on the other side of me was drinking vodka from a pint glass. I've seen strong drinks in my day, but what the hell? After a little bit more sparkling conversation, I happened to glance over my other shoulder. And saw Melissa and Carly sitting at a table.

I immediately said, "Oh my GOD." They didn't hear me, but vodka guy did and whipped around. Even though we hadn't discussed the fact that I was waiting for anyone, he immediately yelled, "THERE THEY ARE! HEY GUYS!" My poor friends, too used to random fools, stared wearily at him until they noticed me, at which point it all started to make sense. Melissa had been there for an hour, waiting for me in the entrance.

The funny thing is that when we had both arrived, it was early enough that the place was pretty empty and minimally staffed. I wonder if the host ever compared notes with the bartender: "Yeah, things are pretty slow. Just a girl sitting in the entrance waiting for her friend." "No kidding, I have a girl sitting at the bar waiting for a friend. Hey, what time's the game tonight?"

Oh, well. At least it gave both of us blog fodder.