To my legion of fans (is 6 people a "legion"?) sorry to be phoning it in lately.
In the meantime, check This Site out. It is awesome.
(Caution to former English majors and literary types: please prepare to have your eyes bleed or shoot daggers and/or head explode. Or, you know, you could just look away)
The following is a conversation with a co-worker which was prompted by me citing an e-mail I'd written which stated that this Saturday I may or may not be at Walden Pond reciting Thoreau while doing my best water ballet (really, don't even bother asking).
Me: Hey, it was Thoreau ...the deal with Walden Pond - right?
Her: Um,... yeah that's right.
Me: Not Emerson or whashisname, Whitman or whatever? I always get those guys mixed up.
Me: "Yeah" what?
Her: Um...I think so...or maybe...
Me: You're gonna make me Google this, aren't you?
Me (after Googling): I was right - phew.
Her: you know, I really love those old books. Little Women - that was Louisa May...
Me(cutting her off to show her how fucking smart I am): ...Alcott - yep.
Her: you read it?
Me: Yeah, ...
Her: I loved that book...I love books from that era. Another book I really loved was A Tale of Two Cities.
Me (in mild disbelief): Dickens?! Really?? Man, I hated that guy. Authors like those seemed like they were writing like they were getting paid by the fucking pound (ed note: I am aware they probably were). Like dude, get to the point already. Doesn't he have like the record for longest sentence or something. Over a hundred words?
Her (could totally give a shit): I don't know.
Me: yeah, I had to read that as a sophomore. I couldn't. I just took really good notes instead.
Of course, I had to Google 'longest sentence' and if you're interested in that sort of thing, Dickens was flippin bush league compared to the results I found here.
And yes, the irony that I am making fun of long winded writers is not lost on me. Har, fucking, har-har.
But speaking of writers, you guys should totally check out Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress (rec is gender neutral, by the way. See side bar for the link to Amazon). It's a memoir of a woman who grew up in NYC in the 70s & 80s and she reminds me why I love memoirs to begin with -a really truly great read. I am not really good with the book reviews - I always end up frustrated and exasperated saying, "Listen, it's just a really great book, okay? Trust me - GOD!" Hey, I don't work for Susan Jane Gilman or her publishers - so I think that my professionally* unbiased opinion should get you to read it. I am seldom, if ever wrong on recs. I am willing to part with my copy if anyone is interested.
*opinions are also unprofessionally unbiased.
...Pete sprang for coffee for the dept. He was headed to Starbucks and I usually only drink their flavored lattes not the regular stuff. I was about the decline the offer as I felt that was just a little too high maintenance for a coffee run (and expensive) and he said don't worry about it. Bonus! He came back with the BIG one. I thought to myself, "oooooh, the elusive Venti! I never spring for the those!"
...Found my house keys. It's nice not getting locked out of the house anymore.
...This week 2 older gents complimented me on my skirt . I mean they were really, really nice about it. Totally made my day.
...It's Friday and I'm drinking a Venti Vanilla Latte which I totally did not pay for.
...And lastly, my brother Brian got a 92 on one of his electrician exams which, I might add, had a lot of math. He'd thought he had done poorly to the point he was about to pack it in an quit his apprenticeship . And trust me when I say he is not one of those "oh, I got an A, and I totally thought I was gonna fail!" obnoxious, ostentatious loudmouths you hated back in school. WAY TA GO, B! Keep up the gud werk!
I was watching the Today Show this morning and they were interviewing Tammy Faye (formerly Baker) about a documentary that is coming out following her (2nd) battle with colon cancer last year. She was at one point Stage 4 which had spread to her lungs and had employed both radiation & chemo to fight the cancer. So, understandably, pretty aggressive stuff.
Matt Lauer pointed out that incredibly, Tammy didn't lose any of her hair which the majority of people do as a side effect of the chemo. Tammy replied with a laugh, "no, but I lost my eyelashes." She also added she was shocked that even her *family members* recognized her.
She has been diagnosed with cancer for a *third* time in the past month or so (tumor on her spine) and has done the radiation and will begin the chemo again in August. I send out my prayers and good thoughts for The Lady with the Famous Eyelashes.
Here is a set of photos I've managed to scam (I mean *cough* inherit) over the years that are among my personal favorites. To get the really good ones, I am going to have to kiss some serious parental ass and basically promise my first born if I default on returning them. Gotta do what I gotta do. Hope you like.
So, anyone notice that I've been gone for a week? For you, at no additional charge, a recap of the week gone by (photo essay style).
To start, there was my godchild, Owen's, Christening on Saturday. I'm proud to report he did very well; no crying and thus making the other children look like a bunch of wimps in The House of The Lord. Nicely played, kid.
Sunday, a soccer game which once again I found myself eating dirt. Not much new there.
I must add, this trip gave me an even greater appreciation for moms. I mean, 2 small kids, one only 2 months old?! It's like fighting a two-front war. God, NEEDY MUCH, KIDS? Heh. I also must've read And I Mean It, Stanley to Sarah at least 20 times. It got to the point where she was (truly) memorizing the words on the pages by herself. For a sec, I thought the 2 year old could read. We also played baseball and every hit of hers she'd run in a straight line back & forth cheering, "Home Ruuuuuun! Home Ruuuuuuun!". Very cute, even if I did do all the work for her.
Also, I had my first bologna sandwich in about 15 years. Now I remembered why I stopped eating them. I think I need to eat something which has a discernible origin. Who knew? Who also knew that were it not for the fact that I have to work, that I'd be a Judge Judy addict?
Wednesday everybody had left the Cape but I stayed back to bop around Harwichport and Chatham. And, having no particular place to be and not being limited by time got to hang out in bookstores and boutiques for AS LONG AS I WANTED and damnit if I didn't try on every pair of trendy, overpriced jeans and yet still went home empty-handed. AUGH!
(Pictured above: Sarah checking out an "older man" on the beach. This should be enough to give her father a heart attack, recover and then sign her up for the convent while simultaneously calling contractors to dig a moat around their house, no?)
Wednesday night I received a phone call from an old friend, Helen of "Say it to my face, butch" fame. This would mark the first time in all FOUR AND A HALF YEARS that I've lived here that she's met me in Boston. And she was here for work. And I won't add she called only when she got here and realized that, "hey, I know someone who lives in Boston who is a dear old friend who I love more than life and breath and a 75% off sale at Ann Taylor". No, no. I wouldn't add that.
Note: the green top I am wearing is completely awesome (you can't see the sash on the side thing. V. cute) but when we had the picture taken, it looked like the top was doing something weird ripple thing around my boobs as shirt is kinda shiny and... just trust me, it looked weird). As a result, I asked Hel's work colleague, 50-something Carol (you'll recall she was here for work. I got to meet 3 of her brand new work peeps, one of which being her brand new BOSS) to take our picture over and over ...and over again. Yes, I was THAT girl.
Do Over, Part I: You can't see my hand, but I am trying to smooth out the hideousness that is wrinkled boobage by pulling down on the shirt.
Here I am trying to hide the hideousness that is wrinkled boobage by standing behind her.
Still not satisfied with the shot, I implore kindhearted/humoring Carol to yet again take another photo (at which point I think she is about to spontaneously combust). I decided to let my hair down for extra "hot" factor (as by now I am no longer keen on my hair) and asked Carol, "so, whad'ya think? hot?" to which she dryly responded, "well, it'll take the attention away from your shirt." Ouch. The truth? She hurts.
For some reason, Helen has decided to (accidentally) get me to flash some boobage (what - can't you tell?), which 1) I'm not that kind of girl, however, 2) it did seem to help with the shirt issue. That's a wrap, folks!
By 11:30 we leave her work folks and stop off for one drink and wouldn't you know, we find a place with a pool table. If you didn't know, Helen is THE Black Widow (well, sort of. she does wear a lot of black and is very good at pool and of Asian descent). Incidentally, she also responsible for having taught be to play back in the early 90s. We played three games and guess who won? ME! Granted, she kept scratching on the 8-ball when I had like a kajillion balls left on the table but BESIDES THE POINT. The last game I won "sort of fair and square" (she did tell me to bank the 8 instead of the cut I was going for, and kindly pointed to where I had to hit it to make the shot).
Here is the BW Knockoff (tm) playing pool. She is so quick-like in her movements that she is blurry. This is not special effects, people. This is how she looks when she plays. Blurry.
Afterwards, she asked if I wanted to check her $300/night room. There we got to raid the fridge and when asked what I wanted (Snickers bar? Pringles? M&Ms?) I told her I couldn't make up my mind between the Toblerone bar or the Pringles so for her to decide (my personal Sophie's Choice: chocolate? or Potato Chips? gah!) She snagged both. A testament to our friendship I think.
Add a bottle water like we did and we're talking abut $15. Yeesh.
I did crash at her swanky place (king-size bed with puffy mattress with one tiny person, or a full-size bed with one giant who snores. Now you tell me which one you'd take.) The next morning, she had to get ready for her meeting. I felt all Julia Roberts-like (sans hooker stuff) promising, "three thousand gets you the week" and then imagined myself going to some Back Bay boutique to buy some "respectable" clothes only to be dissed out of the store. Embarrassed, teary-eyed, I'd recount my tale of woe to some Hector Elizondo-looking concierge and then he'd help me get a private appointment with a upscale shop and then I'd go back to the original store that dissed me all, "commission much, bitches?" and laugh, oh, how I'd laugh!
Er, heh. sorry. back to reality...
Also, staying at a hotel during the middle of the week in the town you live when there is no function (i.e. bachelorette party), when you leave in the same clothes as the night before at 7:30 in the morning, not matter how innocent? You still feel, uh, what's the word I'm looking for?.....dirty.
Then Thursday was Game 1 of the Sox/Yankees series which I went with my Uncle John & his fiancee, Karen. (Thanks, John!). A great game (much more exciting than the Pirates game) and well, it was great until as the Herald called it, we got "Schill-acked" and A-Rod hit a 2 run home run in the top of the ninth. But I still got to see Schilling pitch which was awesome. And see a Yankee game in Boston. Awesome. And I ate a three-quarters of a bag of peanuts by myself, a slice of pepperoni pizza, ice cream and downed 3 overpriced Miller Lites. Awesome, awesome, awesome and awesome. (and yet I continue to be surprised when my pants get snug.)
Friday was another beach day at Horseneck Beach, then dinner with Mike's folks and then headed to the Cape that same night. Saturday was a full day at the beach with Mike's sister, Anne and her boyfriend and then grilling and more food. My tan is officially in full bloom. Sweet.
And finally, Sunday morning had a soccer playoff game which we lost 3-0 thus concluding yet another season. This made me sad (except for the fact that now I have my Sundays back). While I managed not to get thrown into the ground or given black eye this time, however, this time a large guy (well over 2 bills) came off the field and was starting towards me. This had been the guy who had been bitching and yipping to the refs the entire game. He stopped, put both his hands squarely on my shoulders, took his foot and stepped on mine - not hard but enough to make a point and said in a serious tone, "so, how does that feel?". I just stood there completely stupefied, mouth agape with the only thought being, "the fuck?" He then got off my foot and managed a "just kiddin - haha" as he walked away. My buddy, Steve, sensing my lack of words being a function of my complete and utter shock spit back, "passive aggressive much?" God, what a tool.
So anyways, that's where I've been and what I've been up to. I'll be putting a bunch of pictures up on Flickr soon, too. Be on the lookout.
Anyone else afraid of the salespeople that "loiter" in between the make up and perfume counters of department stores? I notice that my pace always quickens and I'm avoiding eye contact because I am trying to become invisible to these folks. I'm like a spy, trying to dodge being caught by one.
I know they're just doing their job but I just want to shop in peace without a sales pitch. I like to linger, to stare, to try stuff without people breathing down my neck. If I need help or want to try something not within reach, I'll ask. Really. Don't you worry, salespeople.
It is stating the obvious that yesterday brought a feeling of déjà vu for a lot of people. My thoughts & prayers are with the people of London.
Though anytime I hear of a bombing - suicide mission or otherwise and it only makes a news footnote, my thoughts and prayers are with those people. No one deserves to live with this kind of tragedy and fear no matter where they live.
It's really difficult to get around the fact that we are the alleged superior species (for what? lacking a tail? standing upright? having opposable thumbs?) and yet we're the only species that I know of that'll kill its own. If there is one, I have to imagine it's a food source at that point and not for the yucks that is genocide. Would an elephant kill another elephant? A lion go after another lion? I'm simplifying, sure, but when you think about it those kind of terms, it really boggles the mind. I am beginning to think opposable thumbs aren't all that.
Listening to the news yesterday and heard this from Mayor "Mumbles" Menino: he said how he was "shocked" at how "terrorists have no value for human life". Um, not for nothing, Menino, but I am pretty sure that is in the job description, if not the job description. If you fill out "Yes" next to "Do you value human life?", you don't get the gig.
What has kept me from being completely cynical about the world has been when hearing about these types of crises, you learn of how total strangers will selflessly come to another's aid. If nothing else, there is that.
If you happened to have missed the Matt Lauer interview with Tom Cruise, the link below has the transcript and video of same.
Even seeing it weeks later, the interview still makes me itch.
How Lauer maintained his composure, I'll never know.
I know that you're sitting there wondering - so here's how it went.
1. One cavity cracked allowing decay into the tooth. Need to dig out old filling, decay, add new filling.
2. So much build-up I need to go again for a fine scaling (read: re-scraping) in 2 weeks. That I can suck up, both in annoyance and the out of pocket $100.
3. The pain is from my wisdom teeth. Some of which have some decay, one has a chip due to the pre-existing cavity filling that's weakened the tooth. Verdict: All 4 gotta go. We'll see what my DMO covers (please, please be more than 50% and cover anesthesia).