Tuesday, January 31, 2006

where you're coming from - January

It's the end of the month, which means it's time for the first ever monthly review of my favorite wacky things people inputed into search engines to reach me. It's short because I just figured out how to do this a few days ago, thanks to Darren.

"schmoo conference"
When is it? Where is it? Who's the keynote speaker? Just so long as it's not at the Radisson again, because those clowns don't validate parking.

"learning to love yourself"
I thought this was maybe because I teach my readers how to love the pants off themselves. But no... it was just a lyric from the Whitney Houston song that I used to win the sneak attack song lyric contest at work. Sigh. The funny thing is that when you do a search for this, the tent is sandwiched between sites that are actually there for the purpose of talking you down from the ledge, whereas I'm just babbling about how the children are our future and not at all concerning myself with your well-being. I apologize.

"November Rain video how did bride die?"
I KNOW! I wondered this when I was like 14 and never figured it out, so I'm sure I was of no help to this person. I DO know that Stephanie Seymour bitchslapped that woman right off her bar stool without knocking Axl over, even though he was sitting between them. That's a badass supermodel move.

"No no no, you fix that wall before my dad gets home for work! He's gonna beat me with a belt!"
I hope this was a search for a Dane quote and not a cry for help.

Monday, January 30, 2006

next time, order in

Restaurants are great places until they think you're trying to steal their crap. It turns out that if you go to lunch with a friend to a place that gives out those buzzy light-uppy things in order for the host/ess to tell you when your table is ready, and then you decide to go to Barnes and Noble for five seconds because it's right next door and the wait at the restaurant is forty five minutes at 2 PM on a Sunday, the aforementioned buzzy light-uppy thing will not necessarily just beep to let you know you're out of range... oh, no. A simple beep does not always suffice. Because you might not just be at Barnes and Noble for five seconds; you might be trying to make off with their buzzy light-uppy thing, perhaps to use as a prototype to open your own Buzzy Light-Uppy Thing store.

So instead of a hey-where'd-you-get-to courtesy beep, the bastard busts out with the "whennnnnn the moon hits your eye like a big-a pizza pie, that's amore..." song. No lyrics, mind you, because God must not completely hate me. So I hear this deafening monstrosity and start laughing because it's not coming from me. Then Steve says it's coming from me. But no, it can't be, my cell phone isn't even... oh, shit. And we're about a mile from the exit, which means walking past 3,000 people, all of whom are glaring at me because they think I have the Lady and the Tramp song as my ridiculously loud ringtone. But ultimately the restaurant got its way; we were back in there in about 3.2 seconds and proceeded to wait dutifully like kids at detention. When our table was ready the buzzy light-uppy thing simply blinked red and vibrated a few times, apparently having made the decision to communicate with us in a rational way, not in a way that makes me want to knock over a self-help display and scream, "WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME? WHAT IS IT THAT YOU NEED?"

They're onto something, though; Best Buy should put the full-volume amore song on all of their merchandise, and nobody would ever steal anything. That thief would get five steps out the door and then run back in, apologizing for swiping those iPods and begging the staff to take them back and make that godforsaken song stop. And then later, they'd have an inexplicable craving for Italian.

Friday, January 27, 2006


1. What would be your first purchase after winning the lottery?
A house with a Sephora and Origins in the basement. Wait, did I just buy a mall? OK, never mind. I'd buy a house and a hybrid. Then I'd travel all over Europe and pay for my friends to come with me because I'm rich and they're lucky.

2. What have you always wanted to have/do/be, but know is forever out of reach?
I've always loved the idea of running a bed and breakfast, in a big sunny house with breezy curtains and fresh flowers in every room. But then I realized that would mean strangers sleeping in my home, so it'll just never happen. Some of them could bring dead demon children with them, you never know.

3. Who in your family are you most like?
My mom is extremely emotional, sometimes irrationally so, and my dad is extremely laid-back, sometimes irrationally so. I'd say I somehow fall somewhere in between those two ridiculous extremes.

4. How long would you last on Fear Factor?
I wouldn't go on that lame ass show. Wait, they'll pay me how much to eat sauteed porcupine brain?

5. Describe your sense of humor.
Deconstruction of pop culture, basically.

6. T/F: All I need to know I learned in kindergarten?
True in that cutesy way, but don't drop out afterwards.

7. Religion or politics?
To what, blog about? I prefer to write about movies and bubble gum and cute boys.

8. What’s your favorite word?

9. Can you macarena?
Ugh, I think so. But that dance isn't even fun in a kitschy way. I wouldn't do it, and I'm a girl that's been known to bust out the Electricslide with little to no shame. (Why did I capitalize the E? Out of respect?)

10. “Is it true that if you don’t use it, you lose it?”
You better have a big trunk, because I'm putting my bike in it.

11. Why do you fill out online surveys like this?
I get my inspiration from Subway.

12. What are you most afraid to do, but have always wanted to try?

13. What is the funniest joke you’ve heard?
Here's a random Dane moment because I can't pick just one: "Remember those Kool Aid commercials, where that big talking bowl of punch would come crashing through the fucking wall in your living room? 'OH YEAH! OH YEAH!' And the little kids were all excited: 'Yes, yes!' And then they would drink out of him, after debris fell in his open dumb head. He would pour himself. 'OH YEAH! OH YEAH!' Him and his crazy tights. I don't like that. I don't like when juice wears tights. That's a horrible combination, a bowl of juice wearing tights. And they're fucking drinking out of him. If that was me I'd be like, 'No no no, you fix that wall before my dad gets home from work. He's gonna beat me with a belt, he's not gonna believe a talking bowl of fruit punch came in here.'"

14. How many “where were you when...?” moments do you have?
The Challenger explosion (watching in on TV with my class in the school library)
OJ verdict (the day after my 18th birthday, eating leftover cake in my dorm room with the Bride and Girl With Bunny)
9/11 (at my apartment watching the Today Show)
Red Sox winning the world series (watching it with my dad and Party Jen, literally delirious with joy and sleeplessness)

15. What is the most memorable offhand remark you’ve heard/said?
In the last year, it was, "What time is it? What are you doing? Isn't he married? Get back here!"

16. What is the average air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Quite speedy, I'd imagine. Also, shut up.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

monkey business

I've never been a big supporter of grown women who enjoy feature length animated movies when they're not in the company of children. In my mind, these are the same women who call their dogs their wittle angels and have never missed an episode of 7th Heaven. So it's with some reservation that I tell you that the new Curious George movie looks totally adorable!

And along those lines, sort of, they're coming out with Bambi II. Talk about a delayed sequel. And honestly, why? So that our kids can be traumatized by it, too? It also seems that Bambi hasn't grown at all. May want to see the vet or forest ranger or deer developmental specialist about that, little guy.

I don't remember being really upset by Bambi. It was sad, but it's always been the scary things that get me. My grandfather took me to see ET and when it got to the scene in the cornfield where they all scream, I became inconsolable and we had to leave. Everyone had a scene in ET that freaked them out. Someone told me theirs was when ET was dying and turned white, and somebody else didn't like when the scientist astronaut FBI policemen crashed into the windows of the house when it was all wrapped in plastic or something. Maybe I need to see that movie again. I might have missed some key plot points while I was having a crush on Ell-ee-ot.

And I think it was my parents who took me to see Annie, which I would come to obsessively love later, but the first time that I saw it I was horrified by the scene where the bad guys chase Annie up the ladder and big surprise, I became inconsolable and we had to leave. I hate chase scenes. I used to have dreams where the bad guys were chasing me and I'd just sit down and cry and wait for them to get me because I didn't want to have to deal with the stress of running away and prolonging the inevitable. Not sure what that says about me, but I'm guessing I wouldn't be the one you'd want around if we found ourselves having to escape from psycho killers. Save yourself, because I have to sit down now.

On Halloween in fifth grade, my teacher rented Watcher in the Woods for us. She had to shut it off when we were all screaming in terror, and nobody wanted her to turn it back on, even the class badass, whose name was Jesse, which is a great fifth grade badass name.

I still scare way too easily. Even the movies I'm not supposed to admit to being scared by (Scream, Blair Witch) were quite upsetting for me. When I saw The Mothman Prophecies, I lived in an itty bitty apartment that contained me, my boyfriend, my roommate, and my roommate's boyfriend, and I was still too scared to sleep.

When I saw The Movie Which Will Not Be Named That Rhymes With The Swing, I should have left as soon as the first person that they killed off had the same name as me, and her friend whispered up the stairs: "Red...Red...are you okay?" That movie impacted my sleep for months afterward. I still can't talk about it. I'm uncomfortable typing about it. I'm not even kidding! That's the sad thing. Nothing is scarier than dead demon children. NOTHING.

The other night on the news they were saying that some guy knocked over a bunch of headstones, "some of which were on the graves of children, dating back as far as the early 1900s." Hollllllly crap. That guy is SCREWED.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

wicked cold cah

As a general rule, car doors never freeze on Saturday morning. It's always, always something that happens when you have to get to work. Like getting pulled over for speeding, or running into a neighbor who decides to give a really long and thoughtful response to "hey, how's it going?"

Tatertot's mom was packing her eleventeen children into her van (which I'm pretty sure is the same one that the Libyans used in Back to the Future) when I realized that my car was a big useless ice pop. She wished me luck before she peeled out. Thanks, lady. The next time you're going out for the night and you tell your kids to come over to my place in case they "need anything," I'm putting a sign on my door that says, "Call 911. Good luck!"

I checked all the doors and realized that my trunk wasn't frozen. This was clearly just my car's way of mocking me. I waited for the tatertots to leave and then did the shameful thing that I've had to do once before: I crawled through my trunk to get to the front seat and start the car. Yes, it crossed my mind that a UPS guy could happen to come along at any moment and see me tunneling through my backseat like Inspector Gadget, but I feel like they've probably seen crazier stuff than that, don't you? Well, maybe not. I may not be very dignified, but at least I'm resourceful.

So I made it to the front seat, which felt sort of victorious, but I still had to perform some extensive defrosting (imagine if I made it to work but was then trapped INSIDE my car?). No two ways about it, I was going to be late. And on my meeting day, of course. And on a meeting day that I have to present on, of course. You're only forced to crawl through the underbelly of your frozen car when you're late for a meeting at which you have to present.

So I call work. Schmoo gets on the line.

Schmoo: Hey Red. Are you going to make the meeting?
Red: I think so, but maybe you could start without me.
Schmoo: Start without you?
Me: Yeah, you could just walk them through the beginning of the report and I'll be there probably ten minutes into it--
Schmoo: I don't know.

Schmoo has been doing this job for, oh, ten years. She's read, oh, fifteen thousand of my reports. And I'm never late for these meetings, ever. She's bright and competent and has been doing this for much longer than I have, yet in the course of this conversation she's suddenly become a malnourished kitten hanging from a tree branch in the dead of winter.

Schmoo: I mean, they don't want to hear from me. I'm administration. I'm the enemy.
Me: Ten minutes. That's it.
Schmoo: I know, but...
Me: You could get Supergirl to pinch hit for a few minutes if you're really concerned about it.
Schmoo: Maybe we'll just conference you in.
Me: Ugh.
Schmoo: Okay?
Me: Yeah, okay. I'll call in at 8:30.
Schmoo: Okay.
Me: Actually, why don't you "just conference me in" every Tuesday from now on and I can do this from bed.
Schmoo: See you at 8:40!

Anyway, I made it in, finally, and later on was telling somebody about my trunk diving adventure. She told me that once she sat behind a line of cars and beeped at them for not moving. She said she was there for a solid five minutes before she realized that they were parked. I immediately felt better.

And I know that I'm not really one to judge after what I did today, but... a solid five minutes? How does that happen?

Friday, January 20, 2006

party girl, or not

Last year a work friend came to a Sox game with me and my peoples because I had an extra ticket and she's a huge fan. Sometime during that night she apparently got the impression that I lead a wild and crazy life, because every so often she alludes to all the debauchery that I must be up to. I'm always like, "I don't know what you're talking about, Work Friend," but she seems to think that I'm being coy rather than honest. Recently we were trying to figure out a day to go for a beer and apps after work, and while comparing our day planners she said, "Well, we definitely can't do it on a Friday, because knowing you, you're doing something far more exciting." What, at four in the afternoon? Then she turned to the person with us and said, "This girl is always up to something!"

To prove to her that my Fridays are not just for heroin binges and bank robbing, we went out this afternoon. At one point she asked what my big weekend plans were. I told her I was babysitting my godsiblings, and now I know what they mean when they refer to someone's face falling. She looked like a six-year-old who just found out there's no Santa. Or Disney World.

I don't know that she'll ever look at me with the same misplaced reverence again, but I'm a little relieved. It's kind of exhausting to be so scandalous in someone else's imagination.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

lather, rinse, repeat

I'm somewhat offended by a sign that's been put up at work. No, traumatized.

It's in the women's bathroom and it says, "Did You Wash Your Hands?" I never realized that a sign could be patronizing. At first I thought it must be left over after putting them up in the kids' bathrooms, and someone put it up in ours to be funny. But then I read it and realized that it's really not meant for kids. If it was for kids it would say something like, "The last person who didn't wash their hands after going to the bathroom got cooties and extra homework for a week and their GameCube exploded and they had to eat lunch with the smelly kid for the rest of the year." No, the language on this one was for adults... it actually had instructions on how and why to do it.

I wanted to write underneath it, "Not only do I KNOW ENOUGH TO WASH MY HANDS, but I also happen to be the one who supplies the GOOD SOAP out of the GOODNESS OF MY HEART because I don't want to use the blue crap that smells like Windex that comes out of the dispenser on the wall."

I thought restaurant bathrooms with "Employees Must Wash Hands" signs were bad enough; apparently my place of work is already going on the assumption that we're not doing it and need to be chastised ahead of time.

I mean, what's next? "Did You Pull Up Your Pants?" It's a slippery slope.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

what we have here is a failure to communicate

Me: Hi.
Dorie: Do you have call waiting?
Me: What?
Dorie: You have call waiting, right?
Me: Yeah.
Dorie: That's so great.
Me: I guess. I hate the beep, though.
Dorie: What beep?
Me: The... beep. You know. The disruptive beep.
Dorie: I don't have it. I didn't know it beeps.
Me: You don't have it?
Dorie: No, but I need to get it. I hate never knowing who's calling.
Me: Do you mean caller ID?
Dorie: What?

Monday, January 16, 2006

impulsive? me?

My First Boyfriend posted an anecdote about high school in his blog so of course I had to post a comment, because his anecdotes and mine are basically the same. Then we started commenting back and forth and at one point, in the context of a story from long ago, he mentioned that I'd never had great impulse control. I immediately wanted to reply, "WELL THAT MAY BE TRUE, BUT YOU BECAME A WOMAN!" but I think that would've just proved his point.

Her point.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

nice play, but why's the field all bloody?

Here's part of the sports report that I saw on the news tonight: "Guy McFootballington, whose wife stabbed him the night before, ran the ball whatever number of yards..."

They said "stabbed" with all the casualness of "cooked him lasagna" or "bought him a new shirt." I'll never again say that football is boring.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

knowing me, knowing you

1. What time did you get up this morning?
6:30. And I listened to the world's biggest airhead DJ, Kelly Malone, pontificate about a new self-help book she's reading and how it's taught her that every time you say "Do I look fat in this?" what you're really saying is, "Am I good enough?" I really hate it when people state obvious, generic, pop psychology crap like it's a freakin' revelation.

2. Diamonds or pearls?
I'd rather take a trip.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
King Kong, which was also Jurassic Park, Star Wars, and Honey I Shrunk the Kids.

4. What is your favorite TV show?
The Office. And the episode of Lost where Walt was on instant messenger.

5. What did you have for breakfast?
Nature Valley maple and brown sugar granola bar and peach yogurt

6. What is your middle name?

7. What is your favorite food?
Peanut butter

8. What foods do you dislike?
The Big 5, of course: Potatoes, cheese (unless it's from Dali, oddly enough), bananas, beans, and coffee.

9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Baked Lays sour cream and onion

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
I miss CDs, actually, because I don't buy them anymore; it's all very song-specific now, with iTunes and LimeWire.

11. What kind of car do you drive?
Honda CR-V

14 Favorite drink?
Diet Pepsi

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?

16.What color is your bathroom?
One is light green, one is yellow, and the other one is too many bathooms

17. Favorite brand of clothing?
I don't know. Is that wrong?

18. Where would you retire?
Maybe the Cape

19. Favorite time of day?
Whenever I'm with or talking to my friends

21. Favorite sport to watch?
Baseball, obviously

22. Who do you least expect to send this back?
I'm not sending it to anyone

23. Person you expect to send it back first?
See above

24. What laundry detergent do you use?
All free & clear

25. Coke or Pepsi?
Diet Pepsi

26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Morning person

27. What size shoe do you wear?

28. Do you have pets?
No, I have not yet acquired Duck

29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with your friends?
I think they pretty much know everything already.

30. What (who) did you want to be when you were little?
Becky from Tom Sawyer, because they got to go on adventures and I had to go to school

31. Favorite Candy Bar?

33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?
Candy striper, bookstore girl, receptionist, marketing crap, talkologist

34. Favorite season?

35. Nicknames you've had?
For some reason, at some point everyone I know has called me Redaboo

36. Piercings:

37. Eye color:

38. Ever been to Africa?

39. Ever been toilet papering?

40. Love someone so much it made you cry?
This is worth re-posting:
Kid #1: Grape is better than cherry.
Kid #2: No, grape is the worst.
Kid #1: Miss Red, have you ever loved someone so much that it made you cry?
Me: What?
Kid #1: Like if you went on a date with them.
Me: Ummm...
Kid #2: Actually grape is OK sometimes.

41. Been in a car accident?
Not a bad one

42. What's a question no one has ever asked you?
"Ever been toilet papering?"

43. Favorite day of the week?

44. Favorite restaurant?
I freakin' love Sake.

45. Favorite flower?
Yellow tulips

46. Favorite ice cream?
Mint chocolate chip

47. Disney or Warner Brothers?
Disney, primarily for mocking purposes

48. Favorite fast food restaurant?

49. What color is your bedroom carpet?

50. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
None, but I should've. I purposely took my test in a town where the only thing they made you do was a 3-point turn.

51. Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail?
Disney's husband

52. Which store would you choose to Max out your Credit Card?

53. What do you do most often when you are bored?
Read, watch TV, talk on the phone, blog it up

54. Bedtime:
On worknights, I try for 10:30

56. Last person you went to dinner with?
Melissa and Joe at the Soup Factory... a 3-hour dinner, which is the only way to do it

57. Ford or Chevy?
Ford. Hybrid!

58. What are you listening to right now?
The news

59. What is your favorite color?

60. Lake, Ocean or River?
Ocean. Lakes are creepy. Horror movies always have lakes in them.

61. How many tattoos do you have?

62. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Your mom came first

63. How many people are you sending this email to?
I'm putting it out into the universe, and who knows how far-reaching my influence may be

64. Favorite Cocktail?

65. Red or White wine?
White... Cakebread

66. Where would you go for a girls or boys weekend get-a-way?
Summer camp... marshmallows and campfires and bug spray and Capture the Flag. It'd have to be co-ed though so we could have a big dance at the end. Camp Cucamonga!

67. What do you want to be?

68. Republican or Democrat?
Independent, but more Democrat.

69. Favorite Family Vacation?
Dirty Dancing. Nobody puts Baby as the last question.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

the lost boys

Okay, the torch has been passed, and I'm answering the call to talk about my Worst Bad Date Ever. But let the record show that I'm doing so with a certain sense of trepidation, because unlike some of you guys, my next worst date could end up being next Tuesday. That's enough to wipe that snarky smile right off my face.

Here's the funny thing. Despite having encountered my fair share of losers, psychopaths, and gender changers, I could conjure up some crappy moments, but not one spectacularly horrible evening-long memory. I consulted the Jens.

Me: What was my worst date ever?
Elusive Jen: Ummm...
Me: I mean, there've been some real wackos, but...
EJ: I know. Nothing jumps out.

Me: What was my Worst. Date. EVER?
Party Jen: Ummm...
Me: I know.
PJ: Wait. WHY?

Yeah, the Same Namers were no help. That's okay, though; I shouldn't actually be relying on friends to store my memories. So, here are some snapshots. Read them and weep.

There was The Face Chaser, who defied logic. He went in for the kiss, I backed away, and he CAME AFTER ME. Not aggressively, just persistently, as though I had slipped backwards and he was simply compensating for the sudden distance between us. I don't know how someone rejecting your mouth could inspire you to travel to reach it. I'll never understand. Hence his nickname, which Connecticut and I invented before I'd even made it home. One of the few times having a cell phone came in handy.

There was Random Conversation Guy. He was my first blind date, and he suggested that we meet first in the bar of the restaurant and then "figure out dinner." As in, decide if I'm worthy of eating food with. Way to make it feel like a rose ceremony. Praise God, I made the cut, and we had the opportunity to dine together. He was nice enough, but from that day on he peppered me with random thoughts about a special he saw on volcanoes and offered me some weird friends and family deal from his bank. What?

There was Married Guy, who may have been fine if he was Used to be Married Guy, but he ended up being Still Very Much Married Guy. They had just separated the week before. And he talked all about how much she pissed him off. And that was the end of that story.

In college, I finally ended things with the Gender Changer by plagiarizing a line from Vineyard by Jackopierce because it was one of my favorite songs at the time, but that was more lazy break-upping than bad dating.

There was Blam! Ahh, Blam. To be fair, he wasn't all bad, just wasn't for me. But the way that I met him is priceless. I'm a little off topic, but it's worth it.

A few years ago, the Bride was single, which was a huge affliction that her family was trying desperately to cure her of. The Bride is also 6'1", so needless to say she wanted to meet a tall guy. Because of this, her mom had told her about a delightful organization called the Tall Club. It actually has a more cutesy name, but I'd be afraid those giraffes would sue me. So it turned out this Tall Club had meet-and-greets at a local bar one night a month. Of course, I was on board about a milisecond after hearing about this. I think my response went something like this: "TALL CLUB? We are SO GOING!" I proceeded to tell everyone that I was attending a gathering of the Tall Club. We went, met some nice people, and I was short for the first time in my life. I was also told that, while I seemed nice and all, I would not be permitted to join the Tall Club, but I could attend any events that I wanted so long as I was accompanied by someone who met the height requirements. They also told me they were having a big fancy Tall Dance in a big fancy hotel a few weeks from then. A tall prom! I was ecstatic, but of course I needed the Bride to get in. I tried to reason with her: "It will be SO GREAT! We'll get all dressed up and dance with tall people and I WANT TO GO!"

So we went. I dragged Elusive Jen along too, who is taller than me but still too short to get into the club. That place is like the Mensa society... few members, many hanger-ons. Anyway, we got gussied up, we went, and we were about ten years younger than everyone else there.

A guy we had met at the bar meet-and-greet asked me to dance. I politely declined, pointing out there was no one on the dance floor yet. The next time he asked, I felt like saying no would make me kind of mean. Short and mean. So I danced with him. On an empty dance floor. To Celebration. By Kool and the Gang.


Trust me. I KNOW.

Anyway, the guy I ended up meeting later on was in his 30s, really nice, and still could boast the distinction of having made me the best grilled steak I've ever had in my life, which is quite a feat considering I don't always like steak. I think of him every summer when I try to figure out what the hell he did to make it so good, and then proceed to fail miserably. There was an interesting moment when I was at his house a couple dates later and commented on a picture of a cute boy in his bedroom that I fully expected was his nephew; turns out it was his son. His 11-year-old son. I found myself figuring out who I was closer to in age. Guess who won? Anyway, he earned his name for something that he said in the e-mail where I tried to blow him off (not because of his son, but dating someone with a kid whose age is in the double digits is a little overwhelming when you're barely legal to drink). He responded and said something like, "Well, let me know if you want to try to get together next week, because after that we're BLAM! right into next month." What can I say? He walked right into his own nickname.

There are more, of course, but I think I've recalled enough disturbing crap for one day.

Sunday, January 01, 2006

happy new

I have a few problems with New Year's Eve. They are as follows.

I'm getting sick of the people that complain about it. And yes, fittingly enough, I'm complaining about people who complain. It seems like the one night of the year that people who don't like going out-out* feel like they have to defend their idea of fun. Do whatever makes you happy, like you do the rest of the freakin' year, then stop worrying about it.

*Going out is dinner and home in bed by eleven. Going out-out is dancing, cocktails, and home in bed by 3ish... maybe 5ish if you live in a city that doesn't sleep.

I love both going out and going out-out. I also love staying in and analyzing the sociological implications of the Real World/Road Rules Challenge... I have the benefit of friends with whom I have fun doing anything or nothing. But in a New Year's Eve out-out scenario, it seems that once the ball drops people want to start making out with strangers, which I'm not so into (ahem, anymore). Suddenly it seems like the world is divided into two choices: spending the night watching Dick Clark and listening to a married friend analyze the doilies that she used while hosting Christmas dinner, or at a bar deciphering the slurred semisweet nothings of a drunken marketing manager. Where is my middle ground, people? I'm 28, not 21, but also not 51. I'm too old to have the first words that I hear in the new year be "we want pre-nup, WE WANT PRE-NUP!" But I'm too young to not have fun dancing to Billie Jean. Next year, we're going to have to get creative.

You know that means having another party. You heard it here first. I'll make sure the office is clean by then. And crazy neighbor's weird friends are not coming this time.

Although that WAS a funny New Year's... let's flashback to a few years ago...

I dimly recall a 17-person game of Moods, before everyone I know forbid me from ever bringing it out again (one exact quote: "If I ever see that game again, I'm setting it on fire"). Crazy Neighbor had just moved in and invited me to his party, so at one point the Bride and I went over to say hi. Crazy had a sign on his door asking people to remove their shoes. I have all hardwood downstairs too (actually, I have the same apartment as him, if you want to get technical) but for cryin' out loud, just swif tomorrow. It was particularly funny because his friends were all decked out in dresses and suits, but no shoes. Crazy introduced me to his girlfriend at the time, who was insane. On the other side of the room, one of his friends was hitting on the Bride. You know how my living room has a couple of steps that go down? And if you don't know me in real life, my living room has a couple of steps that go down, which I'm sure you've shrewdly deduced by now. Well, he was shorter than her and standing on the two steps above her in order to be taller. Anyway, I told Crazy to come by later if he wanted, which ended up being famous last words because my humble abode became their afterhours. One guy was most accurately described by Steve as a bad guy from Miami Vice. He was like, "Do you like zee Chemical Brothers?" and proceeded to pull out his own CDs and put them on my player. He ended up making out with Elusive Jen's friend in the parking lot. Um, awesome. And the short guy was there too, schmoozing the Bride again and back standing on the same step on my apartment that he'd been on in Crazy's apartment.

There was a woman there who was talking at length to Steve about how she loves bad boys. Who was she? No one knows. Steve is such a sport. Then she came up to me and told me that I have a pure soul and that I exude sweetness and that good things will come to me and she should know because she's a Pisces and what is Steve's sign? She ended up wandering out at some point in search of her friend whom she said lived up the street. Here's hoping she found her.

Then around 4 or so, Elusive Jen went and told zee guests that they had to go home. That girl always has my back.