Wednesday, February 28, 2007

He May Not Be My Soulmate, But a Girl's Gotta Eat

I haven't caught you guys up on the hilarity of online dating in awhile. There's a lot of crazy men out there, people. Don't get me wrong, I hope they find what they're looking for. Best wishes for continued success. I hope you dance. But don't talk to me if you're stupid, illiterate, or MARRIED. I thought that last one, especially, went without saying, but not so much. And of course, there's my dating limerick pertaining guys' ages: "If it starts with a 2, I don't want to meet you. If it starts with a 3, you can go out with me. If it starts with a fo', email me no mo'. If it starts with a 5, really? So does my dad's." Of course I keep that to myself. When I'm not posting it on the internet.

Recent highlights include:

A guy who, when I told him that I saw the Darwin exhibit at the Museum of Science over the weekend, replied (verbatim!), "What is the Darwin exhibit? Is that the one where they show people's insides?"

A guy who assured me that in real life he's much less "G-rated" than he seems in his profile.

A guy with the word "mantown" in his screen name. Delete!

A guy who "loves to touch, and loves P.D.A (public displays of affection [such as kissing or hugging])." Thanks, because if you'd left it at PDA it would've been a real head-scratcher for me. Also, who makes out in public after ninth grade?

A 48-year-old man who says his best quality is his butt. Not that I doubt it, but when I was born your butt was already out of high school.

Real quotes from two would-be suitors... I'm going to go out on a limb and say their mothers did something critically wrong during those formative years:

"Plus mother always said, Never grow up to DEPEND on a woman and I believed her, so now we're journeying deeper into the moral state of mind, which I find very conscious and healthy. Its often the reason why I remain single, just cant oblige to ONES who condone THE WAYS of today. Love my women Old Fashoined/millenium, but leaning more toward the classic side. Thats basically it, but *note*...I take individuals for face value till they pull the Fake maneuver, so just BE real to yourself, and you'll find less rocks in your shoe."

"I've had more than my fair share of women wiping they're spiked shoes in my welcome mat of a heart. If you're at ALL into doing the same, you might as well not even bother. Go peddle your papers somewhere else. This heart is for loving ONLY!! Abuse it and you might as well go tell your mother she wants you."

And of course, my dating FAQ:

So, is Red short for Rediford?
I try not to roll my eyes too much at this question because I know it could be coming from a perfectly nice person just trying to make conversation, but I've literally been asked this A JILLION TIMES OVER THE COURSE OF MY LIFE. And I have no idea why. It would never occur to me to ask a Liz if her real name is Elizabeth or a Joe if his real name is Joseph.

So, are you a REAL redhead?
You know, even the nice guys pull this one out. I really just think that they don't know what else to say sometimes, and they feel a need to comment on the hair or something. I probably seem hard to offend, and I AM, but only once you know me. Until you do, questions like this are creepy, not cheeky.

So, you work with kids... that's so noble/admirable/selfless/compassionate/brave.
Again, you can't really make fun of the guy; he's trying to say something nice. But everytime I tell someone what I do they practically start waxing poetic about how they believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way...

So, do you consider yourself honest/trustworthy/genuine/funny/good at communicating?
I've learned something interesting, which is that every jerk on the planet thinks they're all of the above adjectives. No one actually thinks they're a waste of oxygen. It's unfortunate, because a smidgen of self-awareness on their part could save me a little time, but hey... if all else is lost, refer to my subject title.

So, would you say that you're a woman who enjoys getting dressed up and having a night on the town, but can also just relax at home in sweats and eat pizza?
Do you mean to tell me you're looking for someone who can occasionally change her clothes AND her mind? Well, now you're just talking crazy. Go peddle those papers elsewhere, mister.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

And The Award Goes To

Kate: Do you have an Oscar speech?
Me: Yes, it's really dignified. Would you like to hear it?
Kate: Yes, please. And tell me what you won for.
Me: First, you should know that I'm wearing extensions that are so real-looking that my hair simply looks like it suddenly became voluminous and wavy. I'm at my 18-year-old weight. The smile eye wrinkles have disappeared.
Kate: In other words, you've gone all Hollywood on us. I assume you've forgotten the little people and we no longer speak.
Me: I glide onto the stage as if propelled by invisible wires and the love of the audience.
Kate: Awesome. The blogosphere will be agog.
Me: The real Red would throw up and then die. But Oscar-winning Red tears up just enough to be genuine but not too much, so as to keep all make-up intact.
Kate: And what witty comments will you make to be the buzz of the Oscars?
Me: I start with the adjectives... the incredible cast, amazing director, and (choke) my wonderful family and my friends who I love so much, and of course my doting husband Jason [Varitek].
Kate: You are quite the accomplished couple! The toast of Boston.
Me: What color should my dress be?
Kate: Deep navy with some sparkle. Duh.
Me: I already know that when I'm on the red carpet and they ask me what I'm wearing, I'll say blue.
Kate: Gucci will take back their swag!
Me: Okay, now tell me... your award/speech/dress?
Kate: Ahem, well, I'm assuming that I'll win for Best Screenplay.
Me: Yes.
Kate: I'm going to jump on stuff, likely trip up the stairs, then say "I became a writer so I wouldn't have to speak in front of people, and it's backfired horribly..."
Me: I like that.
Kate: Then shout out to friends, family, amazing cast, my husband John Krasinski. We met on set. How cute are we?
Me: Jason and John are in their seats with misty eyes, maybe a single tear. But I don't really want them to Chad Lowe out.
Kate: From there it'll devolve into a bitter Constanza-like rant about the people I hate, and they'll drag me off, one security guard under each armpit.
Me: Totally! Pull a Fiona Apple at the MTV awards. "This world is bullshit!"
Kate: You gotta make a name for yourself.
Me: From then on, anytime people throw fits it'll be called pulling a [her last name].
Kate: I'll parlay that into a book deal: "This world is bullshit!: Saying what you feel in a messed up world."

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Tripping Down Memory Lane, or I Was One Disturbed 8-Year-Old

Witness these debacles that Kate uncovered while willingly organizing my horrific nightmare of an office I just found in my office, circa 1985:

It was bedtime. Crstayl Barbie, Golden Dream, Loving You, Great Shape, Tracy the Bride, and Peaches & Cream were having a party. It was 9:30 when Dream went to bed. Then Loving wispeard to her sister, "Peaches & Cream, want to look at Crstayl's engagement ring?" Peaches wispeard back "sure!" Crstayl had an engagement! Ken was marrying her. The dimond glowed. Everyone was happy.

Seems there was something else I was thinking about in my childhood besides establishing a charm necklace trading conglomerate and whose turn it was on the zipline. I enjoy/want to die over the fact that I couldn't spell whisper or crystal, but engagement, I had down. Also: Loving You?

She-ra as you all know was the first girl born after adam and eve died. Some say she still lives but she really did, once! Let me tell you the story. There were three people known as Glimmer Shine, Angela, and Evil Catra!

Who says the middle child gets ignored?

Once there was a little girl she had a friend her name was Lauren. The little girls name was Daisy. They were called the clover kids because they loved clovers. Every day after school they would sit in a clover pacth and stare at them.

Fun for everyone. Continue.

One day it was Monday and Lauren was waking up. She caught sight of the newspaper. She read 8 paragfhs.

When in doubt, throw in more consonants.

"Oh no! They are going to cut all the clover pacths down!" How would she tell Daisy?

It would probably be more like a a mass plucking, right? And who is this "they" hating on clovers?

There once was a beautiful girl. She was trying to survive thru a horrid tonato. She scearmed for help. Her dog rosey bumped into a hard tree and died.

Never was a dog person.

Caroline Carsala was eight years old and in second grade. She had a cat she loved so much that when it was sleeping she thought it was dead.

Dear God, Little Red.

One day it was Saturday and Caroline went to see her cat as she always did. Pussy wasn't sleeping in her little box! "Pussy! PUSSY! Pussy come back!" She looked up on the tree. Pussy was hanging from it!

Thanks for your time. I'll show myself out.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Me, Me, and Also Me

What kind of doctor would you want to be?
Ummm... a neurologist. But I would imagine that me being a dork who likes neuroscience and actually having that job would be two very different things. I just think it'd be so freakin' neat such exciting and challenging work.

On average, how many hours of sleep do you get each night? How many hours do you actually require and/or like to have? Do you have a regular bedtime routine that helps you get to sleep?
I'm like a baby... I'd like ten hours a night, but of course that doesn't happen. Even when I go out, I like to be in bed by midnight. I'm really exciting. As for a routine, I wash my face, brush my teeth, jazzercise frantically, the usual. I like to read before bed, and now that I have a TV in my room (my dad gave me a little flatscreen for Christmas) I might watch a few minutes of something. I never really gave Scrubs a chance and now that it's syndicated I catch it more often, and you know what I learned? That show's really freakin' funny. Especially the musical episode they just did.

Have you ever sent or received a piece of fan mail?
For what? Actually, this girl I went to high school with wrote a poem for our lit journal and dedicated it to me. It was pretty random because I didn't really know her, but I was flattered by it.

Do you wear a watch every day? If so, describe it.
Just to work. It's Guess, rectangular, black and silver.

Do you wear cologne or perfume?
I like perfume, but I don't really wear it. Sometimes I wear it to bed, which I know is a little ridiculous, but I'm just not a perfume girl during the day, sitting on the floor with kids or going grocery shopping. But I really like Chanel No. 5, Burberry Brit, and Lovely.

Is it easier for men or women to find good partners?
I have no idea. Maybe it's easier for men because women are usually up for a relationship, regardless of how old they are.

If you found your true love, how long would you wait for him/her to return your love?
Why do I have to wait? My true love shouldn't be on the fence. (Also, all that makes me think of is the Princess Bride: "Wuv... twue wuv...")

What profession gets too much respect?

What profession doesn't get enough respect?
Yours. You work hard for the money.

How long have you held your current job and how does it rate against your former jobs as far as overall happiness?
Two and a half years. I'm much happier in this job than any other job I've ever had.

What does a typical workday look like for you?
I get up at 6:45, leave at 7:15ish, get to work by 7:45 or 8, and depending on the day I'm either in meetings or seeing kids from 8:30-2:30. I have 38 kids and my days are broken up by half hours (which is why I wear the watch). The kids leave at 2:45 and on Mondays and Fridays I usually leave shortly thereafter. The other days I have kids I see after school, which is how I supplement my income, and I'm usually done with that by 5 or 5:30.

If you had to describe the thing done by someone at work that drives you the craziest, what would you say?
I don't appreciate negativity or laziness (at work, that is... in my personal life, I demand it). In my opinion, educators need to be smart, proactive, and willing to stand on their head if that's what it takes. I also don't care much for practitioners or administrators who don't work with kids anymore but appoint themselves with titles that mean nothing (like literacy specialist or educational consultant) and write long-winded reports pontificating about everything that a child needs to succeed. If you're out of the game then you just don't really know.

Where are you in birth order in your family... first, last, middle, only? Do you think that has any effect on your personality? Do you buy into the stereotypes of birth order?
I wrote an entry about this once. I'm an only and I don't really buy into any of the stereotypes. Well, of course I don't, because they're all negative. I think onlys are supposed to be socially awkward and loners, but that's not exactly me, so go figure. I think how you interact with the planet depends more on your natural-born personality and how your parents raised you.

If, for one month, you had to live day and night at any one retail store, which one would it be?
If you have to ask, you haven't been reading my blog long enough. Sephora!

Have you ever gone on a blind date?
So much so that you'd think it was my favorite hobby.

What's the weather like right now in your neck of the woods?
Gah, totally crappy. We had an ice storm and everyone's carma was shot today: I spent an hour willing my so-called SUV to go in reverse, Joe got his first speeding ticket, it took Melissa two hours to get to work, and Mardi couldn't get out at all. We had to cancel all our parents meetings because no one made it to work on time. But Mark, he had the worst day of all. While using a pick ax to try and free his car, he somehow ripped his pants, in his own words, "to smithereens, and my jolly rogers fell out."

If you were to audition for American Idol, what would your song be?
I would never audition, but I guess that answer is no fun. It would have to be a medley of Rock Lobster, Rhythm of the Night, and In Da Club. If I'm doing it, I'm DOING IT. Oh, and for my finale I'd go into a short rendition of Giving You the Best That I Got by Anita Baker. Ever since I found out that Dorie's husband secretly likes that song, it's one of my favorite slow jams. Baby.

What was the last thing you spent money on?
Two of the kids next door rang my doorbell and asked if they could clean the snow and ice off my car, and then twenty minutes later they rang it again and said they were done. So I gave them $6 (easier to split than $5). I don't know, what's the going rate for child labor?

Can you name them all the Presidents in the order they were in office? Can you name their respective Vice Presidents? Do you know what state they hailed from? What do you know?
No, no, no, and not much, apparently.

Does sure mean the same as yes? Does no problem mean the same as thank you? Are there other words that you can think of that are different, but are interchangeable in daily conversation?
Sure means the same as yes. No problem means you're welcome, not thank you. I've heard that "I'm/we're all set" is a uniquely American saying. I defy anyone to eat at a restaurant without saying it at least once.

What's the tackiest place you’ve been on holiday and loved?
Niagara Falls! Or Epcot Center. Welcome to Germany, it's Oktoberfest! Hey, it's Canada, look at this maple leaf. Epcot is the epicenter of kitsch and cultural stereotypes and I love all that stuff. Also, one time I was on the ride in the big golf ball, which is a vague odyssey of technology through the years, and at one point the booming voice said, "Technology! Imagine how far we've come! Imagine how far we can go!" and then the ride stopped and a tiny voice came on: "We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please remain in your vehicle." I guess that's just about as far as technology goes.

Do you watch Lost? Do you have a theory for what's happening on the island?
I used to watch it. I don't really anymore. It's on too late now and even though it's programmed on my DVR, I never get around to watching it. This is lame, but I get scared by that rush of music they use to cut between scenes... I don't know how else to describe it, but it freaks me out. Anyway, my theory is that the whole thing started as a sociological experiment (I love describing anything as "sociological"... it's almost as fun as starting sentences with "in society today"). Anyway, the experiment went awry (entry creepy whooshing music here). At least one of the main characters is involved... this conspiracy goes right to the top, my friends. Also? I don't care. So far as I can tell right now everyone's locked in a cage, screaming and crying in the rain, or something. Yawn.

If you were stranded on an uninhabited tropical island that does have shelter and plenty of food and water, what one item would you want with you on the island?
Say it with me now: Jason Varitek. Maybe he could bring some books or crossword puzzles word searches with him. I need to keep the brain sharp so I can figure out how to prevent anyone from ever finding us.

What are your five favorite songs?
Learning to Fly by Tom Petty, 17 Again by the Eurythmics, You Get What You Give by the New Radicals, Signed Sealed Delivered I'm Yours by Stevie Wonder (I'm so white, I glow in the dark!), and You Are the Love of My Life by Carly Simon (which is not as wedding dancey as it sounds... it's a song for your kids).

What song makes you think of high school?
Anything by Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots or Hole. But a more recent little song called White Houses by Vanessa Carlton sums it up pretty well.

What song makes you think of college?
Anything by Dave Matthews. And, for better or worse, any of the swing music that was popular then, like the Squirrel Nut Zippers or the Cherry Poppin' Daddies.

What song makes you think of your 20s?
I'll let you know...

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Snowed In and Self-Absorbed

I guess it's more like I'm iced in. Anyway, this is what I'm liking at the moment in the land of products. You should go out and buy all of this right now, or come over sometime and we can play beauty parlor. Just kidding, you can't come over. You're a stranger from the internet.

Face cream: For almost two months I've been loving Booth's Marshmallow Day Cream and Shea Butter Nighttime Dream Cream. I also use their Fruit Enzyme Balance Toner. It's all cheap and available at Brooks. My skin looks better than when I was using much more expensive stuff. Who knew?

Eye cream: During the day I wear Bare Escentuals eye rev-er upper, which is just a brightener. At night I use Kiehl's creamy eye treatment with avocado. I have no idea if it works or what it's supposed to do, really, but it feels good. My mom's friend Bonnie, who may well be one of the more infuriating people on the planet, told me I'd end up with more eye wrinkles than the average person because I have dry skin. To quote Kate: So glad you came out, Bon.

Cleanser: I've been Cetaphil's bitch for years now. I used their gentle skin cleanser for years and just switched to their new daily facial cleanser for normal to oily skin (even though my skin is dry, RIGHT BONNIE?). I like the new one. It feels like it packs a little more cleansing oomph than the original. (My favorite, and, well, only Cetaphil story is an old boyfriend who liked to use mine sometimes but inexplicably called it Galderma, which is a tiny word on the bottom of the label. It would be like calling Diet Pepsi "16.9 full ounces.") I also use Almay oil-free eye makeup remover.

Makeup: I love Bare Escentuals. I use the fair foundation, the lightest shade, and their mineral veil, with a tiny bit of Revlon Skinlights in natural light on top. During the day I like Benefit high brow or MAC pigment in pink opal, and Almay intense i-color mascara in brown topaz. I sometimes wear MAC eye pencil in taupe but I should probably throw it away because it's a couple years old. When I go out at night I've been really liking Bare Escentuals' smoky eye kit (skyline eyeshadow and celestine glimmer) for a couple months now.

Mouth: I wear Blistex lip tone like it's my job. They don't have it everywhere so anytime I see it I buy three. During the day I either wear just that or Clinique Almost Lipstick in black honey. At night I like a Bare Escentuals lipstick shade called remember and Smashbox lip gloss. To bed, I wear Blistex overnight lip treatment which is awesome.

Soap: Dove is always my favorite. Sometimes I veer off into the land of Olay, but I always go back to Dove. Right now it's their gentle exfoliating beauty body wash.

Shampoo: I go back and forth between Biolage normalizing shampoo and conditioner, and Fresh soda shampoo and pomegranate conditioner. I occasionally use their meadowfoam conditioner. After I go to the gym I like using Philosophy The Fragrance shampoo/shower gel. Needless to say it's almost full.

Lotion: We'll talk summery lotions when the weather warms up, yes? For now it's all about lotions that are rich and creamy for your winter weary skin (why yes, sometimes I like to talk like I write for InStyle). I love Sephora super supreme body butter and Bath and Body Works type shea personality body cream. Palmer's cocoa butter is always good, year round, actually. I slather my students with Dove lotion from elbows to fingertips when they complain about their dry skin, which is sometimes raw and cracking. Parents, moisturize your kids, if only in the winter! And while you're at it, help them with their damn homework. Those fractions aren't going to multiply themselves totally incorrectly on their own.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Six Things I Did on Friday Night

1. When Crowley's, our come-as-you-ahh local waterin' hole, suddenly became overrun with 22-year-old girls in sparkly tank tops because of a plumbing problem at a nearby hoochie bar, I suffered them silently for awhile until, finally, I couldn't deal with the screechiest, nakedest, drunkest one of them all and I decided to treat her like the civilized creature she is and engage her in a conversation kicked her in the ass. From my bar stool. She whipped around and glared at Mardi, who was next to me, stunned. I said, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" She immediately softened. "Oh, that's okay! I thought someone did it on purpose!" I said, "I actually did. I'm really sorry. I couldn't help it." She couldn't make out what I was saying over the music and just smiled and nodded. I felt much better. Turns out assault can be kind of liberating.

2. Some guy was chatting up Mardi and asked what I did for a living. I told him I was a heart surgeon and he looked appropriately impressed. "Wow! You save lives!" I smiled, trying my best to look both humble and brilliant. "Every day."

3. Some other guy was chatting up Mardi and pontificating about how he likes to "go down." I interjected to ask him if he also likes to go up. He hadn't heard of this before but was intrigued. So I made some shit up and told him that women love it.

4. I decided that messing with the heads of Mardi's man candy is my new favorite hobby.

5. I changed my MySpace song to High on You by Survivor. That's right I did. Let me tell you 'bout the girl I met last night...

6. I finally emerged from my grief and said, "Come on, people! She wasn't our generation's Marilyn freakin' Monroe! She was some crazy golddigger who was always high, and the media's trying to be so respectful like we didn't all mock her while she was alive!" "Rest in peace, Anna N." Really, though, I only wish her reality show was still on the air. I'd totally sit there for awhile and watch footage of an empty house with half-full Trimspa bottles and Howard K. Stern occasionally wandering through.

Mocking the dead? Assaulting people in bars? Teaching strange men sexual positions that don't exist? Giving props to one of the most horrific 80s soft rock bands? And all in one night? I'm going straight to hell.

Friday, February 09, 2007

In My Day...

Apparently, I'm old. It's bad enough that I have to use eye cream, but now I'm starting to think about how, a mere fifteen years ago, things seemed to make so much more sense.

The Real World on MTV has somehow become a debacle of epic proportions. It used to be that this was actually kind of an interesting show about regular people with jobs and occasional bad skin who argued, flirted, and discussed their lives with each other. Now it's aspiring runway models who don't eat, hate themselves, and hump each other like bunnies in the hot tub, and when their season is over they try to wrangle a place on the Real World/Road Rules Challenge. The Challenge! These kids that rose to "fame" on one of the MTV shows, lest they get a real job, now support themselves by appearing on these yearly challenges. The idea is to win, but they become incensed when someone else plays to win. There's a weird sense of loyalty in that they either adore or loathe each other, although God knows how they can even tell each other apart most of the time. The trump card is calling someone fake or insecure. If you hit someone or act racist, you're so out of there, bitch. You don't just get voted off; you have to battle to keep your position against another opponent in something called the Incinerator or the Pit of Despair or something.

Whatever happened to Rachel's "biggest regret in life" being that she kissed Puck? What happened to Corey, who cried all the time and just wanted to be your friend? Where's John and his cowboy hat? We need John back!

The other thing that makes me realize I'm old is shopping. I seem to recall brightly-lit stores with maybe a little bit of music piped in over the din of the mall. But the other day I went into Abercrombie (where Fitch at?) because through the window I noticed a shirt that looked just like the one that Favorite Cousin loved and ruined changing my tire (hence my guilt over replacing it). I went in and the place is, well, a club. There was even a bouncer. He may have claimed to be there to welcome shoppers, but if I were ten years younger I know he would've checked my ID. The music was blaring and it was practically pitch black. I suddenly felt like ordering a gin and tonic and making out with a stranger. I got the shirt, but not without emotional scars and maybe an STD.

When I got out, I called Favorite Cousin (who was JUST WAKING UP. I had already worked for the day. God love college).

FC: Hey.
Me: Hi. Remember your striped shirt that you got oil on?
FC: Yeah.
Me: I just found its twin, so I'm sending it to you.
FC: Really? Awesome! Where?
Me: Abercrombie. That store is out of control.
FC: Is it?
Me: It's really loud! And dark!
FC: Uh-huh.
Me: I'm old, aren't I?
FC: I hate to say it...

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

It Wasn't Me, I Wasn't There

A few years ago I was in the Bahamas with Party Jen, and while we were there we "swam with dolphins." I use the quotes because saying that makes it sound like a day on the open sea with Flipper and all his pals, but it was an hour or so in a sectioned-off man-made pool with one dolphin. Still fun, though, in that overpriced touristy kind of way. Anyway, before we were allowed in the water with the dolphin, we were told to only touch a certain part of their head, because if you accidentally touch them basically a quarter inch off from there, it apparently excites them in a way that only another consenting dolphin should excite them. I swear I kept my hands in the clear, but when I returned from my swim, the instructor, in front of everyone (couples! families!) told me that I had "riled up" the dolphin, that it's "not good to start something you can't finish," and that, finally, I'm a "dirty, dirty girl." He wasn't really mad, but as I climbed out of the water I slowly started to accept who I'd become: nothing but a fintease.

I tell you this story (maybe for the second time, for you longtime readers; I'm nothing if not redundant) because I think it sums me up pretty well. Maybe it's even my essence sentence, as my friend Kate might say. ("I got distracted, there was marine life.") Remember how in When Harry Met Sally, Harry tells Sally that she's the worst kind of high-maintenance, because she thinks she's low-maintenance? Well, I'm the worst kind of mischevious, because I genuinely think I spend all day whistling dixie and trouble just finds me. In the man-made pool of life, I always try to argue that the dolphin must have been coming onto me, not the other way around... and yet I'm the one who gets called a harlot (at high noon! in front of children!) when I was just trying to innocently experience nature.

Come to think of it, some variation on "I was just swimming around!" has always been my defense. When I was little, every day when I'd come home from playing and inevitably been up to something I'd begin with, "Well, I was just walking down the road/pulling my wagon along/eating a popsicle, but THEN..." (Also, ha, I did have a wagon that I liked to play with, but that makes me sound like a wee lass in the 1800s.)

Case in point: Look at this conversation that just happened at work.

Teacher/work friend: What does [student's dad] do, anyway?
Me: He's a cop.
My boss: No, he's not.
Me: He's not?
My boss: No, he's a contractor.
Me: Really? I could've sworn he was a cop.
T/WF: Just in your fantasies.
My boss: Yeah, you probably just really want him to be a cop.
School Principal: "You've been a bad, bad girl, Miss Red."
Me: Okay, see? I participated in this in no way! I just said I thought he was a cop! You guys made it dirty!
SP: Whatever helps you sleep at night.
T/WF: Thinking about [student's dad].
My boss: In his uniform.
SP: And handcuffs.

Again, just like back in the day with the dolphin, I'm going to claim innocence and that it's not MY fault that my bosses took a moment during a meeting to imply that I enjoy thinking about being disciplined by a naughty cop. Whether or not I do is irrelevant. I was just swimming around!

Sunday, February 04, 2007

My Bipolar Weekend, or Fun With Mood Altering Antibiotics

How did Jack Bauer survive for two years in that Chinese prison? Because I'm just saying, I was sick last week (as you already know; I'm not trying to evoke more sympathy here) but by sick, I don't mean just feverish, I mean totally mentally unstable. Shall I elaborate?

I called in sick to work on Monday and thought I was getting better. I went to work on Tuesday but was totally useless and lost my voice by the end of the day (of course, hi-lar-ious jokes ensue when you are without a voice and do the work that I do). I went to work on Wednesday but was strongly urged to leave, at which point I went to the doctor and found out what the problem was. Got the Z-Pac and my throat felt better. Then I started having crying jags, where I'd just be sitting on my couch, cross-legged, bawling. If someone had asked why, I couldn't have told them. I was almost laughing at myself, which makes for an interesting display, I'm sure. Then I'd go from having lots of energy to being really tired and dizzy. And then, as the finale, I was hanging out with my friends on Saturday night and had to bail because I started feeling really off. I kept going to the bathroom and putting my head between my knees, but I was trying to rally. I'd spent so much time on the couch or in bed and without solid food over the past several days that I just wanted to be out among people and food. I finally faced up to the fact that I wasn't feeling okay, left, and threw up in a bush. Threw up. In a bush! And no, I hadn't been drinking, unless eleven Diet Cokes count. I drove home crying. Once I got home, sat in my car crying. Fell asleep crying. Woke up crying. Seriously. What the hell?

I woke up today, called Mardi, told her I felt like I didn't have any friends. What? Cried more. Then I talked to Dorie, who said, "Uh, this doesn't sound at all like you. Maybe you're reacting to your antibioitic?"

Huh. Hadn't thought of that, and it's the only thing that's been different in my life, or in my body, in the past few days. This is less of a story I'm spinning and more of a question: Have any of you ever taken a random medication that, um, totally altered your personality?

And if I can't stomach a medicine designed to cure a sore throat then how could I survive Chinese prison? I'd be terrible at combating terrorists, clearly. These are the things that keep me up at night.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Because It's Been Awhile Since We've Heard From Our Favorite Superhero

Supergirl comes into our office like gangbusters, which is the only way she really ever comes in, now that I think about it. "Hey. Do you still have the Teddy Grahams?"

I look up, a tiny bit wary, as I always am when she's clearly a little off-kilter. "Yeah, second shelf." I keep a box of individual bags for kids who forget their snacks.

Supergirl eats one bag in three seconds and then tears into another. She's downing about twenty bears at once. Like most annonyingly tiny creatures, she eats a lot, but I've never seen her eat this... fast. It's almost (wait for it) unbearable. Yes, I went there.

Me: What's up, Super?
Supergirl: I'm so hungry! I'm just so LETHARGIC! [said with so much spunk you'd think she didn't understood the word]
Me: Rough morning?
Supergirl: My blood sugar is SO LOW!
Me: Did you have breakfast?
Supergirl: Yes! I totally did! Husband made waffles! WHOLE WHEAT WAFFLES! I put strawberries on them! I wanted fresh strawberries but we only had frozen ones but luckily I had already defrosted them because we were going to use them to make Husband's smoothies and I thought they had to be defrosted but it turns out that it's okay if they're frozen!
Me: I think your blood sugar is back.
Supergirl: Do we have any pretzels? I AM SO EXHAUSTED!

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Better Safe Than Attacked by a Cartoon, I Always Say

Me: Headline on MSN: Did Boston Overreact?
Kate: Yeah, jumpy at toys, huh Boston?
Me: They looked like bombs! Hold us.
Kate: Boston wants to be terrorized. They have a little brother complex.
Me: We'll always remember 1/31.
Kate: You're right. I still have a pre 1/31 mentality.
Me: Listen, if we let it change us, then Aqua Teen Hunger Force has won.
Kate: They're a force of hunger...who could be a bigger evildoer?
Me: I hear it's a show about a talking meatball. Our bad.