no day but today

My 19-year-old self is freaking out! It's the original Broadway cast, except for Mimi.

I'm also really happy that Anthony Rapp's bio includes his stint in Adventures in Babysitting. "Take it back, Brad! Take back what you said about Thor!"

brain spillage

Some girls like diamonds. I like fighting frog pens.

After lunch at Desmond's on Sunday with Jen and Steve, it was too summery to call it a day. So they indulged me and we went to Fun and Games, where we played skee ball and some cowboy shooting game. They had Dance Dance Revolution (or their generic answer to it) and glow-in-the-dark laser tag (!!!) but we had time constraints. Another time.

Anyway, Jen and I are very, very, very good at skee ball. We almost got ivy league scholarships for it. When we tried to cash in our tickets at the end, we realized we could only afford stupid crap like a single, solitary, plastic-wrapped Swedish fish (Steve got that, it was so funny and sad!). So, being the true friend she is, Jen donated her tickets so that I could get the fighting frog pen. It lights up when you write with it. Everyone who plays with it pretends to punch their face and get knocked out. Mine is red. We technically have joint custody but I'm a little possessive.

I want someone to text me. People are texting each other and I'm not a part of it. I know it might involve turning on my cell phone, and I would be willing to do this. I once had a text message on my phone for months and didn't realize that was why it always beeped at me when I turned it on. So maybe just don't send me an important, time-sensitive text.

Dentyne Fire spicy cinnamon gum is wicked good.

I'm bored with all my shampoo and products. I need to go spend money at Sephora. Or rather, spend gift cards, because the gift givers in my life know me all too well, thankfully.

You know what would be cool? I want for Carly to come out with me and Melissa the next time we get together. This is sort of a public request for a date, so you can't say no. Or I guess you could, if you really wanted to. Text me.

me, and then some

What is your most marked characteristic?
Goofiness, for better or worse. I'm continuing to push for legislation to make uncool the new cool.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Can make me laugh until I can't breathe, extremely smart but not arrogant about it, walks that fine line between offbeat and wacko, very kind, has fun doing pretty much anything, good kisser.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Can make me laugh until I can't breathe, extremely smart but not arrogant about it, walks that fine line between offbeat and wacko, very kind, has fun doing pretty much anything, GREAT kisser.

What do you most value in your friends?
Just that they're there, whatever the weather. Flakiness is kryptonite to friendship. For a girl who isn't serious about too much, I take my friendships seriously and I think my friends pretty much know that I adore them. (I should also say that I have some of the kindest, funniest, most wonderful friends on the planet, and many of them have friends who are also the kindest, funniest, most wonderful people on the planet, so I feel very fortunate to be surrounded by circles of awesomeness.)

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I can be ditzy.

What is your favorite occupation?
I love my job. Having said that, it pisses me off sometimes, just like anybody's job does, but I love and believe in what I do in a way that is hard for me to express without being sappy. If I wasn't doing this I'd probably be teaching second grade. Other than that, I'd love to be a columnist again, for a real paper this time. (Jen's friend Audrey writes a column for the Jewish Advocate called Everyone Loves a Single Girl, which I think sounds like the most fun thing ever.)

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
First, I would have to have finished everything on my to-do list (notice I'm too Type A to have suggested just ripping up my to-do list), and then I'd leave for Fiji with my friends and/or Ron King.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Seeing kids that I love who have terrible parents. (Here's my PSA for any of those considering procreating, from the admittedly secondhand perspective of someone without kids: Read to them before bed, help them with their homework, make sure you feed them well, go to every school play you can, and put them first in every way possible. This isn't a "The More You Know" commercial...it's heartbreaking how many parents don't have this shit figured out. Okay, rant over.)

In which country would you like to live?
Australia or New Zealand, but only for a little while because I'd get homesick, plus I'd get sick of all the hobbits.

Who are your favorite writers?
John Irving, Wally Lamb, John Steinbeck, Pamela Painter, Oliver Sacks, J.K. Rowling, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Blake Nelson (sometimes).

Who are your favorite poets?
Quinton Duval, Christopher Gilbert, Pablo Neruda, e.e. cummings, and whoever wrote that poem about plums in the icebox.

What is it that you most dislike?
When you're mean or ignorant or too smooth; I like simple and sweet and silly. And, of course, the Big Five: coffee, cheese, potatoes, bananas, and beans. Dunkin' Donuts actually has banana-flavored coffee now...blech.

Which talent would you like to have?
I'd like to be able to sing really, really well. Then I'd go on American Idol and when I won, instead of screaming "Thank you, America!", I'd dismantle the whole franchise on live TV, but not before getting the nation grooving to my rendition of "More Than a Woman" by the Bee Gees, falsetto and all, but then I'd launch into "Baby Don't Get Hooked on Me" by Mac Davis for that "come hither, now go away" effect.

How would you like to die?
In my sleep, as an old lady, warm in my bed, and then I'll walk up the steps and kiss Leonardo DiCaprio and have all the people around us clap. Yuck. Just drop me off a building or something, but not for 70 or so years.

What is your current state of mind?
Tired, but good.

What is your motto?
Don't do anything I wouldn't do, peanut.

celebrate good times, come on

You know what became official yesterday, after I picked up my mail? It became official that, for every weekend this summer, I have either a wedding, shower, engagement party, or bachelorette party to attend. Some of them are on the same day.

Weddings are great. Music, good food, dancing, you blissfully happy with your new spouse. No complaints whatsoever. Continue to invite me; I'll continue to bring gifts, and you will have the martini glasses that you registered for despite the fact that I've never seen you drink anything aside from beer from the bottle.

Showers, however, are painful. Little old ladies, little mushy sandwiches, little glasses of punch with sherbert that give me a headache. "Wow, look at the salad spinner from Great Aunt Mary!" Don't get me wrong, I love being included to celebrate with you. But you never have and never will spin salad, and we both know this.

So in order to set aside a little time to celebrate me this summer, I'm going to Mexico with Jen. We just booked yesterday. Yay!

Love is clearly in the air, people.

Chewbecca weighs in

I'm looking forward to this Star Wars movie. I didn't see the other two. That little blond kid and the talking dino-monkey guy...they just didn't grab me. I hope the fall of Anakin is more Crime and Punishment than "mwahaha, I want to take over the world," but we'll see. I hope Lucas took advantage of the opportunity to make him complicated and sympathetic...the fall of the hero is the best kind of storyline there is, aside from maybe three wacky roommates out of college and giving it a shot in the big city.

George Lucas is brilliant in general, of course...these movies came out when we were young, and we remember it with the sort of bigger-than-life reverence you can only really have for the stuff of childhood. When you're 25, a good movie is a good movie. When you're 8, it's pure magic and you're moved in a way that you can only express by acting out scenes over and over in the backyard with your friends. Bringing back the franchise when we're all older and nostalgic for it...genius.

As far as my relationship with Star Wars back in the day, I adored Leia, of course. I wasn't really the sort of little girl to look up to a princess, but she wasn't a princess-princess. I loved, loved, LOVED how she was smart and cool and hot and could kick your ass. I just wanted to be her and strangle Jabba and befriend Ewoks and come up with a better post-carbonate line than, "Someone who loves you!"

I hated Han. He was like the Mr. Big of a galaxy far far away. I hated that Leia liked him in spite of herself, not that she had many options. Even as a kid I was infuriated by arrogant guys. "I love you." "I know." Bastard.

Yoda was boring. He talked for too long and in his death scene, he JUST...WOULDN'T...DIE. I could never become a Jedi because I couldn't get past that rambling, grammatically incoherent muppet. There was always more advice, more dying gasps, more articles to mix up. Could he be anymore abstract? The force...the power...the belief. WHAT exactly is the plan here, buddy?

I loved Obi Wan and Luke. Ahh, Luke. He was smart and sweet and didn't shoot his mouth off at the creature meetings when rat face guy analyzed the hologram of the Death Star. He had that little smile and you just knew he was going to save the universe and have tousled hair and it would all be okay.

As far as the goods...I had a C3PO and R2-D2 alarm clock that used to say something like, "R2, it's time for all good Jedis to wake up! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!" It made me crazy. I had a thought a couple years ago that I could sell it for a fortune on eBay, but apparently 1,000 other people with the same clock had the same thought at around the same time. I had an Ewoks tape holder. Oh, and the stuffed Ewoks. I had the brown one with the brown outfit (ha, outfit? maybe I mean rag) and then I remember my weird uncle gave me the gray one with the pink outfit, which was my favorite, and I was kind of scared of him but I was so excited I thought I'd die.

So, yeah. I guess I'm somewhere between looking forward to seeing it eventually and standing in line for three weeks dressed as a storm trooper.

the best part is her non-reaction

Oprah: I read that you were teased as a child.
Jon Stewart: Who wasn't?
Oprah: I was called Okra.
Jon: Did you tell them, "I'm going to have an Angel Network"? Did you say, "I'm going to have a Wildest Dreams bus one day, and you're going to need a house, and I'm not gonna flippin' give it to you?"
Oprah: No, my big thing was that I never heard my name called on Romper Room. So you said earlier that you were fired a lot... [goes on]

Oprah: If I come back in a second life, I want to come back as me.
Jon: You know what? I'd like that, too.
Oprah: In the early nineties, I realized I'd been imitating others... [goes on]

more movies!

There's this, this, and this, which I won't be seeing, but I like the trailer because of the Westie and John Cusack's line about meat at the end.

God, I love John Cusack. "Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?" Where has he been?

play ball

I'm a little bit concerned about the random sampling of society that I've been encountering at Fenway recently. And I think it's fair to say that it's a random sampling because when you live in and around Boston, being a baseball fan is basically a part of your DNA, so it's not like there's only one kind of person you'd see there.

Now, I don't have many requirements or expectations for you, the stranger sitting next to me in the ballpark. But I've been noticing that many of my new friends seem to fall into specific categories:

The Idiot. This guy yells, "Hey, Chop Suey!" at Matsui and "What's up, Gay Rod!" at A-Rod. Over and over. First of all, not even funny. Second of all, pretty offensive. Third of all, NOT EVEN FUNNY. If there's one thing that irritates the hell out of me, it's when people with no sense of humor, or else the most generic sense of humor in the world, think they're clever. And who are the people with this guy? Are they mortified, or are they just quieter Idiots themselves?

The Beer Thrower. I don't see much of this guy anymore since I upgraded from the bleachers, but he's still lurking around now and then. When did throwing stuff at each other become a legitimate outlet for expressing anger? I thought we all learned that lesson in the sandbox, somewhere between our education on indoor voices and flushing. I just wonder if he's the kind of guy who gets mad at work and hurls a stapler at Joanie from Accounting.

The Pink Hat. Like a Pink Hat herself, I have very little to say. I just can't give this girl any press. You all know how I feel about this one.

The Fighting Couple. The best example of this was a couple sitting next to me at a game last year who had about thirty seven beers each, screamed at each other, and took turns storming out. Are couples like that horribly matched or made for each other? I'm never sure.

The Insipid Commentator. "Wow, that pitch was 86 miles an hour! That's fast! Wow, that one was 84! How fast was that one? Can you see? I can't see it, pretzel guy's in the way. Can you...oh, wow, 92! That's the fastest one yet! Wow, 90. Holy cow! Wow, 92 again..."

The Drunk Guy Who Drunkenly Pontificates on My Dad's and My Hats While Drunk. I know, it never really gets old to see a guy with a Yankees hat sitting next to a girl with a Sox hat. But when you get drunk, your thoughtful commentary on the situation gets a little tiresome. You say pretty much the same thing to us that everyone else does, but it takes you longer and you swear more. You also kind of smell.

The Crying Woman. Last night was a first for this. Shortly after sitting down I noticed the woman next to me was sobbing. Now, I'm a pretty nice person, but this does pose a predictament...do you say something to her or not? And maybe something terrible happened to warrant the crying...maybe she and her husband had tickets to this game but then last night he was eaten by a bear. No wait, that's her husband next to her, and he doesn't seem concerned that she's a mess. Well, okay, maybe it's allergies...really, really bad allergies. Or maybe she's a LUNATIC. (In the end, I did ask her if she was okay. She smiled and said she was and thanked me for asking, but shortly thereafter became the Crowd Agitator...see below.)

The Crowd Agitator. Once she stopped crying, she decided that all the high school boys sitting behind us were clapping too loud, so she screamed at them. Yelling at someone for clapping too loud at a game is sort of like yelling at someone for eating popcorn too loud at the movies...they may in fact be kind of on the loud side, but you've just got no case. So, naturally, these kids laughed at her. The more they mocked her, the more furious she became, which is a pleasant dynamic to be able to witness firsthand. It went a little something like this:

CA: You CHILDREN need to STOP CLAPPING in my EARS! This is your FIRST WARNING!
Children: Shut up! Whatever, lady! We're at a GAME!
CA (stands up, hands on hips): DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO SAY TO ME? DO YOU? HUH?
Children: Sit down, bitch!
CA's Husband: DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT SPEAKING TO MY WIFE LIKE THAT, YOU ADOLESCENT PUNK ASS BITCH MOTHERFUCKER!
CA: IF YOU LITTLE ASSHOLES HAVE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO SAY TO ME THEN I SUGGEST YOU SAY IT TO MY FACE!
CA's Husband: MOTHERFUCKING FUCKERS, ALL OF YOU!
CA (sits down and turns to me): Can you believe them?!
Me: (bursts into flames)

don't you mean House of AWESOME?

I saw House of Wax! I was so excited, I was bouncing in my seat. And it was great because it was the day after its release, it was raining and the movie theater parking lot was packed, but the only ones there to see this cinematic masterpiece were Steve and I and a woman a few rows behind us who brought her 12-year-old-ish daughters with her, and from her ranting in the ladies room afterwards she had clearly been cajoled into doing so and was none too happy about it.

It was GREAT...it had all the important elements of a terrible horror movie, like one of the main male characters telling the main female character, "OK, well, I know we just got a little bit abducted by a toothless, knife-wielding guy who collects roadkill for fun, but I'm just going to run into his house over there that's clearly the gateway to hell and use the bathroom. But I'll be right back. You stay here in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck." Attention to my guy friends: You're not leaving me to pee. I'm coming with you.

Of course, people separate throughout the whole movie. "I can't believe we just narrowly escaped death! Okay, you go that way and I'll go this way." None of these characters are like me. But I don't suppose it would make for a very good scary movie if the first time something remotely creepy happened, the main character was like, "Wow, this is totally fucked up and we're leaving right this second. Hey, did you bring money for tolls?"

Great scene in a camping tent with Paris Hilton: First, she strips for her boyfriend, and then she decides to tell him she thinks she's pregnant. Then he runs outside because he's upset that the CD he put on has stopped playing, and when he doesn't come back for a really long time, even though the only thing he left to do was check on the CD right outside the tent, she thinks "oh well" and goes to sleep. Sounds about right.

Oh, also, it had that fantastic scene where the main female character goes into the house and finds all the incriminating newspaper clippings letting you know exactly what the bad guys have done, and just as she opens her mouth to tell the only friend of hers that's survived that far with her...well, you know how that goes. I love the newspaper clipping scene, though! Attention bad guys: Make sure that whenever you do bad things, you neatly clip the newspaper articles detailing the crimes, and that you keep them in the first drawer in your house that anyone would think to look in (it's helpful if it's in a desk on top of which there's a glass jar containing a cow fetus or something equally subdued). And don't go and scrapbook those articles, oh no...make sure you stack them sequentially so the first one is about something that we know or suspect you did, but as the main character continues to sift through, we find out about stuff you did that we had no idea about but that conveniently ties back to an unsettled issue from earlier in the movie, and only then will we know the depth of your madness.

So, go see it! Or just rent it when it's in the discount bin at Blockbuster next week.

Crazy Neighbor Chuck, on honesty

CNC: How's it going?
Me: Oh, hey. Just taking out the trash before the rain starts.
CNC: It's going to rain?
Me: Yeah, supposedly all weekend.
CNC: You're kidding.
Me: No...sorry to give you the bad news.
CNC: Well, that's okay. You're a truth-teller.
Me: Right.
CNC: You tell the truth, and that's good.
Me: So take care!

yay movies

I want to see this, this (despite not liking Nicholas Cage), this (who is that blond girl? I like her), this (Helena Bonham Carter is basically perfect), and this...I love Ron Livingston ("I'm sorry, I can't, don't hate me"), Allison Janney ("First of all, you're wrong. Second of all, shut up"), and Anthony LaPaglia. Although we'll see how that one plays out, because I'm getting a little tired of the whole "two miserable people coming together and somehow suddenly being happy" thing.

And this. But you knew that already. Prey, slay, DISPLAY!

I love trailers. Oh, and movies.

Sweet Valley High

Red joined me at the local library where I picked up, among other things, Stevie Wonder's Boxed Set: At The Close Of The Century. We made our way through the children's section, which I found to be more than ample, but Red was like "eh, it's not so big" and stumbled across Judy Blume's Superfudge and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing.
Then we hit pay-dirt. Every Nancy Drew book, in order.
"I had this one and this one..." Red said gleefully.
"You know what I used to love? Sweet Valley High..." We turned the corner, and you guessed it, EACH AND EVERY FUCKING SVH NOVEL EVER CREATED stood before us.
"OH MY GOD!!" Red EXPLODED. "This is the first one, Double Trouble... wait, I'll close my eyes and tell you the rest." I knew I was in for it.
"There's Oriental Summer, and the Older Sister, and Cheerleading Camp Blues... I had ALL of these!"
Then the covers eventually began to have pictures of boys on them, by this time she has recited 53 of these titles to me. "This is where my father forbid me to read these books."
"What are they about?" I asked.
"Well, each book starts out with a description of these two twins..." she read aloud. "They were blonde as the summer wind. They never needed to diet. Their teeth were white pearls plucked from the sea. They were co-prom queens. They both rode majestical stallions, and smelled like buttercups."
"So this is basically the seed that causes young women to have inferiority complexes and become maladjusted, neurotic, underconfident and have negative body images."
"Yeah. Ooh! Sock Hop Surprise!"

not even remotely entertaining email survey

What outfit are you wearing?
Black pants and a dark red scoopneck shirt.

What are you listening to right now?
Kids with intense spring fever.

What was the last thing you ate?
Salad with chicken at the 99 with work friends. Maybe I've just not been eating enough lately, but the food there was actually pretty good!

Do you wish on stars?
Maybe.

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Maybe purple or yellow. And also not thrilled about being a crayon.

How is the weather right now?
Sunny and kind of windy. But overall nice, thank God.

Last person you spoke to on the phone?
Mark.

How old are you today?
27 years, 6 months, 12 days.

Favorite drink?
Diet Pepsi, water, good wine, and I love chocolate milkshakes but I never really have them.

Favorite sport?
Baseball. Come on.

Hair color?
Red.

Do you wear contacts?
No.

Siblings?
None.

Favorite month?
October.

Favorite food?
Now I have my favorite summer food on the brain: grilled marinated chicken and veggie shishkabobs (is that a real word?), soft serve chocolate ice cream cones at Fenway, lobster rolls at the raw bar in Mashpee.

What was the last movie you watched?
I Heart Huckabees, I think. It wasn't as good as I wanted it to be.

Favorite day of the year?
The first day it feels like spring, the first day it feels like fall, and my first night at the Balsams.

What do you do to vent anger?
I talk to my friends about everything. I talk to my mom. I talk to the assistant manager at Lady Foot Locker. Woman knows her stuff.

What was your favorite toy as a child?
I was obsessed with my Barbie Town House, especially the elevator. I loved My Little Ponies; I used to write stories about them. I loved my Fisher Price record player. I played Olivia Newton-John and the Cabbage Patch Kids album, which I still know by heart. I loved Care Bears, Rainbow Brite, all that stuff. I was a little girl in the 80s, what can I say?

Summer or winter?
Ummmm...well, the end of a long winter is a bad time to be objective. I don't hate winter, like most people, but I'd have to go with summer. Although I really prefer spring and fall. If you care. Which you probably do not.

Hugs or kisses?
Depends who's giving it, I guess?

Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate.

When was the last time you cried?
I don't remember, actually.

What is under your bed?
It used to be a wayward Roomba, until I found him. That thing is possessed.

What did you do last night?
I went to the game with my dad, FlyingJ, and Jen, and watched Schilling get his heart broken by the Yankees.

Favorite smell?
Beachiness.

Plain, buttered or salted popcorn?
Light butter and salt.

Favorite car?
I don't know, so long as it's black and not a sedan, but not a gigantic whale car either.

Favorite flower?
Yellow tulips.

Number of keys on your key ring?
Five...my apartment, my mailbox, my car, my classroom, my parents' house.

How many years at your current job?
8 months.

How many states have you lived in?
Just the one.

What is your favorite restaurant to visit for breakfast and what do you order?
I don't really go out for breakfast, but if I do I like eggs benedict and cinnamon toast. Has this survey been a lot about food?

If you looked back at your high school yearbook photos, what is more embarrassing? Your hair, your clothes, your glasses, or your complexion?
High school pictures were okay, I guess, but the junior high hair (perm) was really not.

If you had to change the color of one of the following, which would you change and why: the walls in your living room, your car, or your eyes.
I wouldn't change any of those. But thanks!

dog blog

Me: I'm getting a dog.
Mark: You're getting a dog?
Me: Yes.
Mark: YOU are getting a dog?
Me: Yes.
Mark: You're not getting a dog.
Me: Yes, I am.
Mark: Do you know what a dog will do? A dog will shit ALL OVER your apartment. It will chew up EVERYTHING YOU OWN. You'll have to walk it every day. You'll have to walk around behind it, holding a thing that picks up dog shit. You will literally have dog shit in your hand EVERY DAY. A dog will lick itself and then it will lick you. You are not going to deal well with any of that.
Me: I'm getting a dog.
Mark: You're not getting a dog.

"they're all wax! everyone!"

I haven't been this excited since Spring Break Shark Attack.

In other news (if that was news), I'm getting one of these!

American Idol Top 5

Jen:
1. Carrie, 2. Bo, 3. Nadia, 4. Vonzell, 5. Constantine

Mark:
1. Carrie, 2. Nikko, 3. Bo, 4. Scott, 5. Anwar

Me:
1. Carrie, 2. Nikko, 3. Bo, 4. Vonzell, 5. Scott

We're so lame, I know. Sorry.

hypochondria

I diagnosed myself with Borderline Personality Disorder on my way to work this morning. The radio ad was like, "Are you sometimes anxious? Do you sometimes want to yell at people? Then you may be eligible for a study on Borderline Personality Disorder."

The ads for kids are good too: "Does your child's attention wander? Do they have trouble completing activities? They may be eligible for a study on what it's like to be seven."

When Peter was getting his masters in psychology he told me that he diagnosed himself with every weird condition they studied. After my aphasia class in grad school, Gili and I were convinced we were about to have strokes. At least we could have had a double stroke party, sort of like the Brady sisters double wedding.

Sorry, that's just my BPD talking.

Top TV Shows

My Top 5, or 18

1. American Chopper
2. House
3. Good Eats
4. A Cook's Tour
5. The Simpsons
6. American Idol
7. Justice League Unlimited
8. Iron Chef America
9. Mythbusters
10. The Contender
11. World Poker Tour
12. Seinfeld
13. 30 Minute Meals
14. $40 a Day
15. Teen Titans
16. Yu-Gi-Oh
17. Judgment Day
18. Home Movies

Red's Top 5

1. House
2. $40 a Day
3. Sex and the City
4. Real World/Road Rules Challenge
5. Do you have any clementines?

we're gonna need a bigger boat...and budget

As fully expected, Spring Break Shark Attack was the greatest event of my life. I was BY MYSELF giggling and shrieking on the couch. I'm not kidding. It was fantastic for all the following reasons:

- Main Character Girl wants to go to spring break with her friends, but her dad says no. She screams that he had an affair, which is apparently supposed to be her argument for going. It doesn't work.
- Brilliant foreshadowing: Dad says she can't go to Florida because the guys down there are all SHARKS. Oh snap.
- Coincidentally, MCG is supposed to leave the next morning for Habitat for Humanity and instead goes to see her friends. We know this happens because they show her waving goodbye to her loving, cheating parents, then they do a close-up of her smirking, and then the next shot is Florida. That's editing, baby!
- MCG's Brother is also down there but he's doing marine research. We know he's smart because he's a good-looking guy who they threw some big glasses, bad clothes, and greasy hair on.
- Brother warns MCG about the "ecosystemic consequences" of an artificial reef they've built and how it's riling up the tiger sharks. But because Brother tells MCG to stay out of the water, she screams that he can't tell her what to do, that no one can control her. Because that's what you're really trying to do when you tell a member of your family to avoid a flesh-eating monster.
- A Sleazy Guy Who You Know Is Going To Die First is dancing at a club with his girlfriend, who is MCG's friend. Then he turns around, sees another girl, and drunkenly picks her up with, "Hey, wanna hook up later?" Hot.
- Dad shows up to bring MCG home. She again screams that he had an affair. Irrelevance abounds.
- MCG meets the only non-drunk guy on spring break. We know he's supposed to be intelligent and sensitive because he storms out of the club to go to the bookstore next door. He's also a poor local, and when you're poor you're sensitive. If you're rich you wear hair gel and put roofies in soda.
- After a huge shark attack on a boat during which everyone almost dies, MCG's friend complains that her fake ID is ruined.
- In the brilliantly downplayed final scene, a bunch of spring breakers are dancing on some floaty thing when 900 sharks begin to swim over. MCG and Sensitive Boy immediately set sail to throw vats of chum out the back of their boat in order to draw the sharks away. They don't bother telling the lifeguard about the situation, although she maybe could have helped by blowing her GET OUT OF THE WATER whistle.
- Roofies Guy gets eaten. Shark gets indigestion from hair gel.
- MCG can not only drive a boat, but drive a boat after its engine has been bitten off.
- It turns out the whole thing was a ploy by the owner of another beach who tried to divert the sharks over to his competitor's beach so that all the spring breakers would come party at his beach. He didn't really want anyone to die, but he was also really concerned about his snack bar losing business. Now that's living the American dream.

spring!

It's the first day of spring, and the weather is actually nice. Unfortunately the relatively mild temperature is contrasted by the piles of snow everywhere, but a few of my windows are open for the first time in months and that's enough to make me happy. I got to spend time this weekend with Jen, Mark, and Steve. Steve and I made public service announcements on his new digital camera, which I'll post here if I can figure out how to do it, if only because it will make Joe happy (to see Steve's creative genius) and Jason happy (to see me on the Internet, without me having to figure out iSight). Although I've lived in my apartment for almost three years (!), I just discovered a truly great hole-in-the-wall Mexican place less than a mile away that scores big in both the food and atmosphere categories. I got a long and involved activity done for my kids that I've wanted to put together for awhile (I won't bore you with the details, except to say that it involves fishing poles, magnets, and large quantities of velcro). I silently cursed Melissa for apparently buying ALL of the free iTunes Diet Pepsis in the tri-state area. I finally coaxed Jen into reading my blog by telling her that I talk about her in it and who knows what I could be saying, so she sat down and read it in its entirety and probably for the last time. Hi and bye, Jenny.

Also, I did my first lesson plan for my ESL class. I'm volunteering as an ESL teacher for a literacy group in the next town. I've wanted to do volunteer work for awhile and this language-y stuff is up my alley anyway. The training has been on Monday nights for the past three weeks. I have two more Mondays to go and then I'll be able to start teaching a class of my own. I haven't worked with adults since grad school so it should be fun.

But it all pales, PALES, in comparison to this, which is already the highlight of my weekend, and it's not even on until tonight. I am so damn excited.