Once More with Feeling.

5 Things I Hate and Quite Frankly Should

My counter-list to Fancy's "Things I Love..."

1. Waking up thinking it's Saturday when it's Friday (like today).  What - you mean I have to go to work?  FIVE DAYS IN A ROW?! God, so annoying.

[2. MAYO. Those who insist on putting mayo on my sandwich when I specifically asked for NO MAYO.  People, why must you hurt me so?]

3. THONGS. I realize that they are a necessary evil for form fitting or white clothes, but I can always tell when it's laundry time because all that's left are the thongs. When I do wear 'em, I always end up just trying to de-wedge myself (when no one is looking of course), which is kinda counterintuituve of the sexy appeal that they're going for. I mean, unless picking your bum is now sexy, then, hey, sign me up. But God, I love me my Gap Body bikini underoos. 

4. People who walk really slow on sidewalks in pairs or threes. The hell? The universe does not revolve around you, okay? Move it along, folks.

5. Hairy legs. I cannot stand the feel of hair on my legs. Don't get me wrong, in the winter , from time to time I've been known to phone it in, but come spring/summer my shaving takes on OCD proportions.

Edit: I am taking the Mayo off the list because I thought of something even more hateful. Besides, I gotten pretty good at scraping it off  so it's more of an annoyance and inconvenience than anything else...

2.Strangers who pass you on the street and TELL YOU TO "SMILE". Okay, maybe I have a dumb look on my face or maybe I am in deep thought about something or just maybe I had a bad day... so yeah, it's possible a smile would improve the landscape of my face considerably...but last I checked THIS IS AMERICA and if I don't feel like walking around town with a dumb smile on my face, then I dont have to.  Am I wrong here, people??? So, I might offer something that weakly resembles a dumb smile but you should know, complete strangers, that in my mind I am punching you in the head.

She Bangs! She Bangs!

What every girls wants to know...

Bangs? Or no bangs? Or bangs? Or no bangs?!  Or...help!!

Every year, women across the country struggle with this question. And boyfriends and husbands give "an opinion" just so they can continue going about their business.  My sister Emily is considering this look and now, so am I. But how do I look like this without looking like "girl with hair in her face"?

UNDER THE BUS THEY GO.

The other day I came home and Mike asked the standard, "and how was your day, Dear?" and rather than answering with my usual "fine/it was hell/rub my feet" reply, I actually told him in a little more detail.

"well, Mike...it's funny you should ask ...my day was fine until it ended with the two Dans asking me to referree a bet of theirs...."

The bet in question was how fast a 2005 Dodge Neon could go  zero to sixty. Oh, how I wish I was making this shit up. A Dodge. Neon. Apparently Dan #1 had rented one in Texas and said 9 seconds or better. Dan #2 said 10+ seconds.

OH. My. God.  I am trapped in NERDVILLE: Population 2.

Both gave "compelling" arguments supporting their respective cases including website info and a Car & Driver-like rag to serve as documentation. However, seeing as I really don't care how fast a car goes 0-60...let alone a DODGE NEON, I will not say who I gave the win to, but I will say THEY REALLY DON'T PAY ME ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH THIS KIND OF NONSENSE.

While I'm at it, these were the same 2 that took a soy milk break the other day.

There, ...now I feel better.

   

Yertle the Turtle...is Scary!

I was never afraid of water. I mean, never afraid afraid.  I loved to swim - and by "swim" I mean "not go in over my head". If I was in over my head, there was a raft of some kind nearby. Or a ledge. Yeah, ledges were nice.   I loved to jump off docks and do handstands and play in the waves. It wasn't until age 8 that I did a running jump off the dock at Sunset Lake in Braintree like I always did that I had my first slightly traumatic experience. And by "slightly traumatic experience" I mean, well...almost drowning.  Normally when I jumped off the dock I could touch the bottom on my tiptoes thus allowing me to bop around on my toes keeping my head above water. Well, we must've gotten a lot of rain because when I took that jump I was in over my head and my usual practice of the tiptoe bop wasn't happening. I realized this immediately and my 8 year-old self was saying a more PG version of, "OH SHIT, I AM SO SCREWED". So there I was, by myself, struggling to swim and see, NOT KNOWING HOW and taking some water in as I coughed and you know, THE PANIC wasn't helping matters much. Somehow I got out (I can't recall if someone realized I wasn't "bopping" and pulled me out or if I was able to grab onto the dock and pull myself up) but needless to say, I was pretty shook up and the fear of going in over my head was promptly installed into my psyche. I believe shortly thereafter the conversation of, "think it's time we get the kids some swimming lessons" was had. (Gee, ....YA THINK??)

So my parents signed Kate and me up for lessons at the lake. Being that Kate is a year & a half younger (or one grade below) we took our lessons together. Given my recent "brush with death" I felt I was being punished by having to be in the Beginner Class with FIRST and SECOND GRADERS.  Also being tall for my age made matters worse, too. I felt like (and probably was) about a foot taller than these babies. Back me up here, Beginners don't jump off docks, right? Beginners require direction on how to "get their faces wet" and to go under water. Clearly I had that mastered. Okay...sure, my doggy paddle wasn't what you'd call "textbook" (feet scraping the bottom while paddling my arms) but I really did not belong with these.....*sigh* .....infants.  I was mortified.

I must've figured out the swim/stay afloat part on my own later in the summer with friends because I don't think I went back. The class was crap, that I know.

Fast forward to the spring of the next year...me age 9.  My next error in judgment was watching the movie Piranha on TV with my Dad.   I didn't ask any questions but I also didn't know that this type of fish only resided in South America. The movie, needless to say, etched yet another scar in my already fragile, water-fearing psyche.

"Oh, what's that you say, Mom & Dad? I'm going to CAMP this summer? And take swimming lessons? In a lake?? PERFECT!  Yeah, if my life was going any better, I'd be eating aluminum foil."

Camp, Summer 1982: I took a test to see if I was Beginner 1 or Advanced Beginner stuff (thinking, "ohplease, ohplease Advanced Beginner - I am THIS CLOSE to sporting BREASTS for godsake". okay not really, but COME ON).  I almost forgot, a bit of info I picked up on the bus ride to camp: ...the legend of The Snapping Turtle. The name pretty much said it all; they will eat little girls and boys toes and they hung out at the bottom of  lakes. Oh, and if that weren't enough lakes have eels. "Greeeeat." So, where was I? Oh, the test - right...so between the Piranha and the eels and the Snapping Turtles, I knew I was going to make this the FASTEST test they'd ever seen.  Ever. The test to be in Advanced Beginner was to swim from Dock A (again with the docks!) to Dock B which was over my head. The method being judged here was the crawl stroke.  I jumped in (didn't know how to dive yet) and swam the fastest I ever had in my life. No way the snapping turtles were gonna get my feet. They didn't time me but had they I am pretty sure I came *this close* to an Olympic Record that day. I am sure it looked ugly, but it was fast.  And I'm sure the suspense is killing you - I fucking failed. 

Back to Beginner 1 with the babies.

I can still see myself arguing the bullshit call too. Me, all skinny and wirey, arms extended trying to politely illustrate to them that, Sir, hadn't I had *successfully* made it from A to B? No dice. "A do-over then?" Ditto. It was clear. They hated me.

I was PISSED....Form be damned, did they not realize that they just witnessed greatness in speed in swimming - and I was only NINE???? That they had a future Olympian on their hands? Shouldn't they be nurturing this ....this gift ...rather than subjecting me to further humiliation??

You think I am overreacting here or am overly bitter or something? But back at the nursery I to then deal with an instructor who said to the class (no lie), "now blow bubbles in the water, like you're Lois Lane kissing Clark Kent".   YOU TELL ME HOW WELL YOU'D TAKE IT.

I blame the Snapping Turtles.

Braces, Etc.

I am going to be reading this book by Laurie Notaro  which came out today. This will be Book 4 of hers I've read.  I think part of the reason I dig her is there's a section of her bio reads as below -and the comments re: the mystery that is orthodontia and comparision to Melissa Gilbert both have been said of me. It's almost scarey how close to home this hits. With exception to the fact that I had braces twice - a combined total of 7 years (that 2nd round in my early twenties. AWESOME!) it's comforting to learn you were not alone...

"I looked a lot like Melissa Gilbert from Little House on the Prairie. No, not the pretty blonde sister who God eventually struck blind, but the buck-toothed gawky sister who was always tending to some farm animal or crop crisis thing. I lied heavily on my head gear chart, my orthodontist knew it, my mother knew it, our neighbors knew it. "How can a girl wear braces for four years and and still have an overbite so big it looks like an awning for her chin?" everyone said."

A Regular Who Dunnit.

I walked in the door after a long day at work and headed to where I always go first...the fridge. The night before there was noticeably TWO 2 liter bottles of Sierra Mist in there. Today I saw a half full bottle on the counter and the other mysteriously gone. I thought that that was pretty fast - even for a couple of soda jerks like me & Mike.

I asked Mike where the other bottle was and he just assumed I had taken it to soccer the night before.  Nope. So we're both scratching our heads thinking, "where the hell is the other bottle?" I've been known to misplace things before, but a 2 liter bottle of soda seemed a Little odd. Did we throw it out? Was it in the freezer? In the cupboards? I actually uttered the phrase, "Did we leave the door open.... and someone.... take it???" Ya know, I've always had my suspicions about the weird guy who rented an apt. in the basement. Yeah, the thief didn't clip the TV or the laptop...the thief wanted our SODA. Uh huh.

I put Mike on the case cuz it was too much of a brain scratcher for me to ponder (but I would practice my Alias moves in the other room in the event the case required it). 

Mike was able to solve The Case of the Missing Sierra Mist:

It was in the fridge door.

And folks,  IT WASN'T ME WHO PUT IT THERE. HUZZAH!

(I mean, I am pretty sure it wasn't me)

I'll Stick to Coffee, Thanks.

Just when you think you've seen it all, your two co-workers go out for a soy milk break.

yeah, you read that right. They walked to Chinatown to buy SOY. MILK.

I mean, was regular milk so unhealthy that they had to add soy to it? I can respect one's enthusiasm for healthy eating habits (like from a real, real distance) but I think this is just a leettle weird.

A Tale of Two Sisters

What do you do when you have an issue with your roommate who also happens to be your fiance? Do you address it directly with him in a calm, rational fashion like a mature adult? The answer is no. No, you do not. It is my belief that this is why God made sisters. And e-mail. The following is an exchange between me and my younger sister, Em.

A little background first:

1. This is the stuff couples "fight" about when there are no kids, no mortgages, no pets, not so much as a potted plant in terms of responsibility.

2. I can be credited with cleaning approx 10% of the dishes in this house.  I also usually do not grocery shop due to my hate of it. It's not that I am a lazy ass*, it's just we have a certain division of labor here and I don't have to wash them. Just like he doesn't have to clean the toilet.

3. I am leaving the typos in.

4. Talking shit is healthy.

The beginning of this "hurricane" started with a stupid brillo pad.  The thing had gotten rusty and gross with food bits like they always do, so I chucked it. I even replaced it when I WENT TO THE GROCERY STORY, the PLACE I HATE, with a super scrubber thing. Mike later asked, "where's the brillo pad?" and I said, "In  the garbage...here, use this [handing him the scrubber thing]" his immediate reaction was, "this won't work", "Yes...it WILL", "No, it won't...how would you even know? you don't even DO the dishes"....

Ooooh. BURN.

What am I - an f'n moron?? Having washed MANY A DISH in my lifetime, I know what works too! GOD.

And then the Eye of the Storm settled over our apartment....

Me:    Oh and I went to make coffee this a.m. (homemade as in I did not go to the
corner store) and lo & behold we were OUT of the Fr. Vanilla Half and half.
OUT! And I was JUST at the grocery store last night. I thought we had a ton
of it left. Clearly I was WRONG And WE ARE LIVING LIKE CANNIBALS!!!  Like if
you finish the product someone (and by soemone I mean You, Mr. M.J.F!) shoudl TELL someone, namely ME.  What is WRONG with that man???

I had to drink my coffee w/ 2% milk.  Yeah, TWO PERCENT milk!!! ACK!

Me (again):
well, Mike was pretty irked that I threw out his favorite (and gross)
brillo pad (the wirey looking one that are disgusting even if they DO work. I dont
know if that negates teh half and half scandal but I guess I might be able
to dial down teh drama factor on that one.  But still - who would want to
mess w/ my cofffee consumption?  NO ONE, I tell you.

Em: I will make sure to have Fr. Vanilla Half and Half on hand.  And we won't
paint on Saturday.  I'll put it off until Sunday if you are going to go
visit friends.  I won't make you do manual labor  :)  maybe we can go to
Target and ummmmm the new shopping plaza in South Windsor and the movies
and dinner.....oooooooooh it can be so much FUN!

Me: sounds great! I can weild a paintbrush too, if you want some help...
Oh, so I just "called out" mike on the Fr. Van scandal that's rockin' 789.
And even added  how now I am not even sorry about the brillo pad
situation...he's all, "we havent had that stuff for months" (slight
exaggeration) and then pointed out that" you make coffee like once a month -
how would you nkow" okay - that last bit is pretty much sort of true. So maybe
it HAD been gone for weeks or something...but there is an expected modicum
of civility that we should be maintaining here  - that is my point.

So, he is taking a huge test tomorrow (I call it the Huge Test b/c I have no
idea what it's called, that is how supportive and in touch I am) and I said
"pass it so you can get more money" and he says that [raises] happens once a
year and I reply "they dont give you $ for passing an exam??" and he states
"yeah, like a hundred bucks".  him sounding disinterested,  I countered,
"well, then can I have it??". and that is when I got knocked on the couch.

Em:  and ummm just read this....who has a "favorite" brillo pad??? seriously I don't know who he is worse than- me....where he loves a cleaning product or Mr Em...where he just might be too darn cheap to get a new one....tell him to take the hundred bucks he gets from passing the "huge test" and he can buy lots of brillo pads to last him FOREVER! and I laughed out loud when I read 'and that is when i got knocked on the couch" the visual is just too much especially as I can see your face when you said it..... 

So there you have it. What you think - counseling??

* maybe SOMETIMES it could be argued by some people that I am a bit of a lazy ass.

Boston's The Bachelorette

Over the weekend I shared in the event known as The Bachelorette Party. The bride-to-be, Chris, is to be married in June and as tradition dictates, it's a night of female bonding and shenanigans.

There are many components for a successful Bachelorette Party. Here, I will share a few tips:

First you need a willing Bride to Be. 

Exhibit A: Chris.

 

(Oh, and a feather boa helps too.)

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Next you will need a crew of fun ladies who are willing to break out the body glitter, dust off the low riders, bust out the Wonder Bras (geddit? "bust out the..."...oh, shut up.), and dance, drink, and laugh til we are sweaty, tipsy, and our stomachs ache.

Exhibit B-E: Fun ladies, low riders, body glitter, ... 

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..and Wonder Bras 

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Exhibit F-H: Dancing, Drinking, Laughing.

 

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Starting the evening with dinner is always a good idea. This assures many things - like for example, food, which significantly reduces the chances of someone requiring their hair to be held back by night's end. Also it's an opportunity to talk to one another without screaming and replying "HUH?". Speaking of hearing each other, one of Chris's close friends from St. Louis, Fiona, came up for this. Fiona is originally from England and has been living in St. Louis for over two years.  Though she is thought of as just "one of the girls", I think at times that we find her "exotic" (she uses words like "dodgey"!) because she is from across the pond. To wit: Fi was making use of her funky and slim I.D./credit card/key holder that fit nicely in her back pocket. In awe, someone said to her (whose name rhymes with "keg" "booze"), "Wow, that's really cool. They should totally market those in the U.S." Fi plainly responded, in her adorable English accent, "I got it at Bed, Bath and Beyond".  Poor Meg Suz. I mean, Keg Booze. We were dying. Fi has lived here for over 2 years, but have a "foreigner" produce something we've never seen before, and it must be from their homeland . Hee. 

As is most girls wont, we like to dance.  So after a few cocktails (including the newly invented Bachelorette Martini - which considering what's in it, is the martini's answer to the Long Island Ice Tea) we headed to The Alley. The Alley is 5 bars/nightclubs in, as yone might expect, an alley in Boston.  It was remebered that another integral cog in the Bachelorette Party Machine is The Negotiator.  For us, this was Keg/Meg. A big F'n THANK YOU to her, because due to her diligence, we got us to skip lines and cover charges.  She should work for the U.N. Seriously. I don't know how she does it and none of us ask.  And she doesn't pull the martyr act like she just drew the short straw. The woman takes PRIDE in this job.   Did I mention the line we skipped - and the $10 she saved us - each? Yessss!

Once inside, it was dancing and ass slapping (of/by each other) and cocktails and looking amused and mardi gras beads and strangers trying to cop a feel and thoughts of, "oh, I really hope that is his cell phone pressed up against me"  AND,what night would not be complete without a MECHANICAL BULL! Unfortunately, by the time we got the the place with said bull, it was not operating (it was rumored that someone puked on it.....lovely.).  However, it was probably just as entertaining watching Chris's attempts to climb it.  The visual: a mechanical bull, an airbed-type floor and Chris in heels and tight jeans.  Trying to straddle the bull proved almost next to impossible as everytime she tried to push off the ground for momentum, her foot would sink deeper into the floor.  Add an audience of hundreds of people watching you try this- yeah...no pressure. Finally, after four attempts she made it.  Yeeee-haaaw!

Closing time and the ladies head out to wait for their chauffeur, Big J to give them a lift back to the Fancypants' place - the hostess of this fiesta. Though with her feet aching, Chris requested a piggyback to haul her ass up to the street. Fancy stepped up and proceded to carry her - at an incline - in her own heels, up the alley. At the very end of the alley and in front of a respectable sized audience - bit it.  They toppled backwards on top of each other. A tangled mess of arms and legs and beads requiring some gentlemenly assistance to help them up. 

OH,  BUT HOW DO I WISH I HAD FILM THEN!

I would head back to my house, with the feet of a ballerina in training (note to self: NEVER wear new shoes when you are out for a night of dancing) and KERMIT THE FROG SKIN. Apparently, the heat and sweat from my skin meshed with the dye from the mardi gras beads and when I got home I had green skin around my neck and into my cleavage.

I will learn a few days later that interpretive dancing to Neil Diamond's ("Young's") Hello would continue until 4:00 a.m.   

Now that is the definition of a successful Bachelorette party.

Ramblings

I don't know why I am stunned  - I mean, we all knew she was pregnant. But still. Really? Good for her... I guessssss. But as far as he's concerned, as it's been said elsewhere, something still screams "ratfaced pimpbag".  Uhhhh.  And she honestly thinks girls dig him? Are throwing themselves at him since he'd "cleaned up" for Details magazine? I'd like to know who these girls are. No, really. I want names. Who? I ....no. If you can give me a name, I will officially overlook the name "Bit Bit".

If someone could please explain Paula Abdul - her wardrobe (the large skull & crossbones ring comes to mind), her incoherent mutterings being passed off as professional assessments?  I'm here. Please ....tell me. Shut up, Paula. And SIT DOWN.

Tomorrow I am going to have to own up to my Fluff & Fold that they did not lose my brand new Ann Taylor Loft workshirt. I had them look and look and after a week, they told me to buy a new shirt and bring in the receipt and they'd reimburse me. They were really nice about it too.  Mike brings home his dry cleaning today...and wouldn't you know, it's in with his stuff. He had no idea. I had no idea. We have no idea how it got there either. I SWEAR it was in my laundry basket. I swear!

After this and the ATM card incident, I ask you, is it safe for me to be walking the streets without supervision?