Once More with Feeling.

Curly Sue

My Uncle George has generously lent me his scanner so I'm able to upload old photos pre-digital era.  This is the first one I picked...

My First Home Perm.

Me around age 8. I had very straight hair ("had"? who am I  kidding?). My mom would, on special occasions (holidays, school picture day, recitals),  curl it with a curling iron or use old fashion spongey curlers which had to be slept in to get some body in it. Usually after a few hours it was back to being straight thus the epiphany to give Kate & me home perms.  I would think my mom spent at least an hour on us each rolling those skinny plastic rollers with little  1" x 1" tissue papers, pouring the pungent chemicals into our hair and then sealing our forehead with Vaseline and cotton so the chemicals wouldn't drip into our eyes leaving us blinded for life.  Of course, let's not forget the fun job of then taking those pinchy suckers out (which usually involved some hair going with them and quite possibly a tear or two).

And then, with much anticipation, this is what she got for her efforts:

It was back to being poker straight within a day.

(By the way, not my dog. I think it was the neighbors'.)

Church of Baseball

Red Sox 009
Originally uploaded by once more.

I'm closing in on 2 weeks as to when this should have been written but with a busy week last week going out every night and then golf tournaments and of course, the EYE TRAUMA SPECTACULAR, stuff got in the way. So, my bad.

On June 18Th my friends Steve & Heather generously invited Mike & I to the Sox/Pirates game. You can look up the recap on ESPN if you're interested in the actual game but you will find what we all found: that we were at quite possibly the Most. Boring. Game. Ever. Scoreless until the 8Th, Manny hit in the leg in the 3rd and eventually out by the 5Th, Sox using every available pitcher on staff, short of asking the pitching coaches to pitch. I mean, I lost my voice cheering for the guy who runs from the bullpen to the dugout to hand the pitcher his jacket (he's an amazing sprinter, you should know).  And then to top it all off, the Pirates managed to get 2 mangy runs thus beating the Sox 2-0 leaving everyone with a feeling of..."    ".

So, that was the game itself in a nutshell. However, because the game was less than captivating, my attention did shift focus to basically the folks around us and as you can tell by the number of photos in this set, taking pictures of Fenway.

A few standouts from the Bleachaahs:

1. We got row 31 which is the LAST ROW in the bleachers. But you know what? I kinda liked them. Got a great view of Fenway, it wasn't like we were in the blazing sun, no one behind us to kick/knee our seats...I really didn't mind them at all.

2. I was taking pic of Steve & Heather and the guy next to them noticed that I was delaying the shot having some "technical difficulty" with my very paparazzi looking camera. He helpfully suggested, "you may want to take the lens cap off". Oh, right. That. I countered, "Ah, right. First thing they teach you in photography school."

3. There was a group of of mid 20-somethings sitting in front of us: 2 girls, 2 guys. It seems that the 2 girls left for the ladies room and upon their return showed the guys a picture they'd taken on their camera phone during their trip. It was of the 2 of them kissing.  Uh, okay. And um, DESPERATE FOR ATTENTION MUCH? Klassy. And the thing is? The guys didn't really blink much. Not to sound old but isn't this trick a bit tired by now? I my opinion, I think this "scandalous" act gained popularity is the mid-90s but now - isn't it a little stale? Granted, I am not a guy so my point of view is well, not that of a guy, but this bit isn't really "shocking" or "tabu" as it was 10 years ago thus coming off as desperate and weak. I mean, watch The Real World. No one even blinks when they do that now.

Side story time: Back when I was 20-something, the guys asked me and one of my best friends, Amy, to kiss. And the both of us just looked at each other like, "um, not really into that but let's fake them out" so we "humored" the guys and pretended to go for it. We got about an inch or so from each others face and both of our pairs of lips are so tightly pressed and we're, again, an inch away from each other. It was as if our lips were saying, "COULD NOT BE ANY LESS INTO THIS SO DON'T EVEN THINK THIS WILL HAPPEN EVEN ON ACCIDENT, OKAY AIM/JEN?". Someone snapped a picture of this Great Moment in Jen History and it's really a funny photo. I look both tense and like I am trying not to laugh which, when I think about it, impeccably represents the dichotomy that is My Essence.

4. Again, same group of mental giants. One girls says to the other, "Oh my gawd, where did you get those blue eyes? You have, like, the bluest eyes evaah." [me: "???"] And seriously, how does one respond to that? "uhhh, my parents?" One of the guys in their group also had a pair of very blue eyes, and same girl suggested to the 2 of them, "You guys should get married cuz your kids would have the best, bluest eyes." I'm sure the 2 of them were like, "yeah, we'll get on that."

5. The guy with the Red *Socks* cap. Click on the picture to see the guy in the set. I can't even do him justice with the written word.

Welcome to the blea-chaahs at Fenway, folks.

Buddy, Can Ya Spare Some Change?

Okay, let me first say that there is nothing funny about being homeless or finding yourself in a position that you're asking strangers for money for food (I find myself in that very position on occasion, though luckily I just ask an officemate named Pete for the flip).

Okay, having said that, I'm sure all of you have seen signs penned by a homeless or destitute person and it reads something like, "Clean, Sober, Need Money for Food", "Will work for food", "Veteran..." and so on.  Once in a while you'll get one that's a bit....I don't know, ...cheeky, like the one I saw in Key West that read, "Need Money for Beer". (Or was it weed?)  Whatever.   

However, the other day while I was out at lunch I saw one that read:

"Homeless Vegetarian Need Money For Food".

Okaaaay, so this was first. Must admit, it's definitely an interesting angle.   I wonder if this is the beginning of a trend amongst the homeless/hungry community? Might it be my sign, it'd read, "Carb Addict. Need Money for Food".

I dunno, maybe it was this guy's way of politely declining turkey sandwich offers.

Only the Homely

Okay, I just got back from the ladies room and while I was in there noticed the concealer had completely worn off my eye and I gotta tell ya, that shiner is coming is real nice like. I think I may have to take more pictures when I get home and make this  recurring post of its progress. 

However,  think I may need a better story than "I got hit by a soccer ball".  I am opening the floor to suggestions.

P.S. Please try and remember the times when I was cute.  Thank you.

Updated as of 5:40 pm: as promised, new photos.

In honor of my black eye and bruised, puffy nose, I give you, for free, a joke as told by my great-uncle, Fr. Francis White aka Uncle Frankie:

What did one eye say to the other?

"Between you and me, something smells."

hee.

This Guy

Okay This Guy is pretty funny. I recommend his "year in pictures".

To Think, I Actually Pay to Do This, The Sequel

My weekend? Yeah, it gets better...

So, I played in the golf tournament my friend Tim's family puts on every year. I was teamed up with Tim's older brothers Mike & Bill, his sister, Laurie and Bill's 11 year-old son, Joey.  Since all the other teams had 4 people per, I'd asked Tim earlier in the week if he really needed me (not knowing that Joey was a kid) and Tim responded that Joe was eleven and would just be "going along for the ride".  I had a hunch...which was proved on Joey's first drive.  Joey, with no experience, would be able to out-drive me.  Cute kid but he was starting to wear on my ego and it wasn't even the 2nd hole yet.  The tourney was a scramble, and the first 2 holes we took his drives. Yeah, it was kinda like that for me.  His swing's form had an eerie resemblance to that of a one Happy Gilmore - "You just hit that 400 yards!", "What, is that a lot?" So that's what I called him for the next 17 holes.  Along the way, he did show the "cold" of "hot and cold" and I began to feel a lot better about myself. That was, until he won the Longest Drive. We were tied for distance, but apparently there is a rule about it being ON the fairway. Stupid rules. I needed that 20 bucks. What? That kid's parents buy him everything. I gots bills to pay.

I was also fortunate to have Tim's oldest brother, Mike, on my team. Not only was he a great golfer (and on many a hole carried us) but a very chill, patient guy who actually FIXED my putting. I will now need him on all future golf trips to stand behind me to tell me if I am lined up okay.  That's not weird, right? On the 18th, we had a chance to make birdie and bring our score to -1 (which would end up being the winning score for the tourney, I think*) and I hit a long putt and it hit the lip of the cup, popped to the other side of the cup, and almost rolled back in. I knew I was upset (well, more shocked given what I was doing all day) but Mike was just stumped. He kept saying, "I don't know how that didn't go in".   Well, the rest of our team didn't make the putt either so we finished even. I think that was enough to tie us for 2nd place. And now that putt will haunt me the rest of my life.

So, that was Saturday. I was unbelievably exhausted. So much so that I left my clubs in the bag drop off area and didn't realize this until I was at my uncle's place an hour away when we went to put something in the trunk. It would seem I WALKED RIGHT  BY THEM on the way out.  Uh, oops. Told you I was tired.

But the weekend doesn't end there! Oh..nooooo....

Sunday was soccer. It was still OH MY GOD HOT. And Humid. A regular sauna. Note, most saunas  advise a 20 minute limit but us soccer kids? We're gonna run in one for SEVENTY.  Wicked smart. It was a pretty challenging game; we were playing with a keep who was really a field guy and with only 1 sub which was by the end of the 1st half, down to none due to a knee injury of one guy (required a field carry off, calling for ice, etc). In the 2nd half, I went for a ball that another guy was going for (makes sense), he got there first, but I decided I was gonna get in the way and take it from him (good plan!), however, he LAUNCHED IT and it planted DIRECTLY INTO MY FACE.  I went down like a pile of bricks, crying and covering my face.  My first thought was that I'd broken my nose. We have a guy on the team who is a ER doctor and he came over to make sure that it wasn't broken (all signs indicated no) but I heard one guy who was  also checking on me utter the phrase, "Oh God".  As a result, I thought there was a lot of blood (there wasn't any) and freaked out a little more.  As an added bonus, I was having problems seeing well out of my right eye; there was a spot or shadow blocking part of my vision and my thought was that I'd done something more drastic to my eye beyond bruising it. Turns out , that's what happens when you get a black eye and it swells. Oh.

I'm walked off and given some ice for my face and seated in the shade and I eventually got my shit together and the vision got a little better.  Because of my injury, we were playing down a player in the oppressive heat. I felt bad. After 10 minutes or so, the ice bag was leaking all over my face and shirt so I gave it BACK to Knee Injury Guy, meandered on the field and played for the last 10 minutes of the game.  We lost 3-2.  Stinks.

Here are a few shots after I got home from the game (about a hour after the injury) Complete with bruised, swollen nose, black eye, fat lip.

I call this the "Yeah, you should see the other guy!" shot.

I think I've pretty much killed any hope at a future modeling career.

Can you call into work "Ugly"? I mean, do I really want to inflict this level of awfulness at the Monday morning meeting? Colleen, can I borrow your Jackie O's? Do I say something like "I uh, walked into a wall" or "he hits me because he loves me" or do you think the faint, backwards "ADIDAS" lettering will give me away?

Did I mention the headache I still have?

To Think, I'm Actually Paying to Do This

Think of me as today I am out on the golf course  playing in a tournament. Playing 18 holes... in 98 degree heat.

I gotta imagine even my Texan peeps are like, "damn girl, you crazy". 

I am.

Pack Your Bags...

Rattlesnake
Originally uploaded by once more.

You may think you're leaving on a jet plane for Cali (Raf) & D.C. (Trish) but I'm sending you guys on an all expenses paid guilt trip. (note: you could be here -->)

Featured at top, your going away party (from left: Heather, Steve, Susan, me, Rox, Scott). See how nice it looks? Pretty, pretty party. But look closer. Scott's fists are pretty red & swollen. Prior to this picture, he was found banging his fists into the table screaming "Damn them! Damn them!" Rox spent half the evening calming him down with a lot of "there, there"s and soothing his pain with margaritas on the rocks. Thank GOD for margaritas on the rocks. We may have been asked to leave otherwise.

Steve, on the other hand, looks as though he might to cry at any moment. Note the quivering bottom lip and watery eyes. He's definitely doing his best to maintain for the picture. When he heard the news that you weren't coming, it was as though he'd been told by his parents that they were splitting, my announcement akin to, "it's not that your father and I don't love you anymore, it's just that we can't stand each other." Later, because I am mean, I whispered, "okay, actually it's because you don't clean your room. Live with that, chump." So Heather had to pour much Miller lite down his gullet and tell him how nice he looked in his orange t-shirt, thus mastering the art of distraction.

Susan, the surprise guest of the evening ala "This is Your Life" (and no, it was NOT a coincidence we happened to find her dining with other people) - her look reads, "I waited 5 minutes in line by myself to get to the roofdeck, and walked a flight of stairs ...for this??" I hear ya, sister.

And lastly, me...where do I even begin?
Well, for starters I am wearing a super cute Banana Republic outfit YOU'LL never see. I am wearing what appears to be both makeup AND jewelry. And the hair? Looks like it's been combed, styled and has some kind of styling goop in it. STYLING GOOP, PEOPLE! It's like I'm Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed all dressed up for prom and my date comes by only to egg me & my house. That is just SO SAD. So naturally I did what any girl would do when stood up - I sought solace in the queso fondito appetizer. Cheese makes everything better.

Alright, you two. I kid. Of course I had to write something given the irony of it all. I wish you guys the best in your new cities and of course, if I should ever find myself there, anticipate I got a free place to stay.

And now a word from our sponsor

Lately, I have much to post but no time to write. I promise, much to come! Photo essay! Me with crap, reddish brown hair (home hair coloring can be touch & go, don't you know)! Recap of Red Sox most boring game ever!! (how the HELL do you lose to the Pirates??)

stay tuned...

The Bitch Sessions, Vol 1

I should be in a better mood because it's Friday and all but I am not, so you get to hear me bitch. Just a little. Or maybe a lot, I dunno. We'll see how this rolls...

To the person with the headphones on the train, on the bus (a.m.) or in the elevator, or anywhere else where it's public and accepted as quiet: Is it REALLY fucking necessary to have the volume all the way up to 10? You know have any idea how quiet it is on an elevator? I really don't need to hear your crappy music. Not ONCE in my life have I thought, "hey, that's a great song. I'd wish they'd turn it up so I could hear it better". 

To the person who comes over to my desk to talk to me about something: QUIT TRYING TO READ MY MONITOR. PARTICULARLY MY E-MAIL. It really Isn't any of you're fucking business and I can totally tell that you're doing it. You're really not that slick.

Hey people, when I have a problem or question to ask, is it too much to ask to LOOK ME IN THE FUCKING EYE when I'm talking to you? Now really, I know that your computer or whatever you're reading is probably hella more fascinating that yours truly, but seriously, can you at least look up at me to acknowledge that I'm there? I mean, is that REALLY too much to ask?

To the NY Times reporter who referred The Wonder  Spot as "chick lit" and proceeded to pan it: First I say, SUCK IT because it's not and clearly you wouldn't know a story about the HUMAN CONDITION, you Klingon, if it bit you in the ass. Second, can we put a moratorium on the term altogether? It's degrading to women and women writers specifically. Yes, I know there is the  fluffy "girl trying to make it in the city" stuff out there - the stuff that beach reading is made of and it's cool for what it is. But too many women writers whose story's central character is a woman in their 20s or 30s dealing with various relationships and figuring their lives out and yes, lives in a city are being painted with the broad (no pun intended) brushed term. Even still I would not cast it as "Chick Lit". These stories can be pretty poignant and affecting and still clever and humorous.   Conversely, does anyone call what Sedaris (who started out as a fiction writer) or J.D. Salinger or Richard Russo or Nick Hornby does as, for lack of a better term, "guy lit"? No, they don't. And they're dealing with the exact same stuff Melissa Bank is in her books in an almost mirrored fashion, so why is that? It's bullshit and it pisses me off not to mention it potentially narrows a great writer's audience.  Not every book written about a 30-something woman living in a city is a Bridget Jones wannabe. Christ Almighty.

Cell Phones on the Bus Folks: Do you really need to yell your conversation so that everyone on the bus - and I mean from the driver to the guy in the back - can hear you? I mean, I WILL listen in on it, if that's what you're gonna do, but I really don't care what you and Smitty have on tap for the weekend.

Cellphones at Work: I'm sure certain folks require 'em....sometimes. Fine. But any chance of at least putting them on VIBRATE when you're in the office? Especially when you ignore it because you're on another call on your desk phone and you then let it ring and ring until finally reaching it to mute. Or you then walk away from your desk and leave it there and then everyone gets to hear your phone's symphony?  Dude, seriously. Put it on vibrate and then I won't have to be forced to slap you.

Okay- that's it....for now.