Once More with Feeling.

Wah Wah Wa-Wah-Wah

{please note that this post is written on exactly 8 minutes of sleep and therefore might really, really suck. You have been warnedd. -The mgmt.}

Last night I went out with a client and dined at the very swank Davio's in the Back Bay. I got the steak. It was good. I liked it a lot. I also had 3 martinis.  Which meant I was just begging to mess with my sleep, stupid alcohol.  Basically, I haven't gone to sleep yet (if you see your blog has hits around 3-4 a.m., yeah, that was me).  I mentioned this fact to my manager and I must look pretty spent because he suggested me taking a nap in the conference room.  The offer...very tempting, I must admit.

At dinner we got to talking about our wild, alcohol soaked, "misspent" 20s.  The woman with whom I was breaking bread was telling a story about a Saratoga weekend with some friends. One afternoon was sponsored by Pimms and the group was knocking back cups of the stuff pretty good.  Some guy ("short, with a lisp") was apparently smitten by my friend and later that day, took her to dinner where she was still feeling pretty good (read: very drunk). At some point during dinner, she noticed that she staring about an inch from her mashed potatoes. Apparently, the guy didn't even notice that she was  basically sleeping in her food and continued to talk to her as if this was normal dinner behavior and then even asked her to hit the night club after dinner.  Yeah.

I decided to share my embarrassing date story. I was at the bar Bourbon Street and was dancing with the really, cute, cool guy named Matt. We exchanged numbers and ended up dating briefly.  One night he asked me, "so, you remember taking my shoe and saying you wouldn't give it back unless I promised I'd call you?"  (!) Um, Noooooo. For a while, I didn't even believe him. "You LIE!" Sadly, he was not. Somehow I managed to get this guy to hand over his shoe on a gross, beer soaked dance floor as I stood there holding it back making him swear up & down that he'd call.  THE HELL?? I don't recall that at all nor do I understand why I would resort to extortion-like tactics to get a date.   I am hoping I was being cute, and/or funny about it cuz man, that just reads desperate in a really bad way. Hey, at least I'm memorable.

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Okay, Dawn wrote the word "doobie" in the comments on a prior post and now I have the song "Doo bee doo bee doooooo" as sung to the tune "Strangers in the Night" and cannot for the life of me get it to leave.  I don't know what's worse - the sleep deprivation thing or this song.  Worse even (if there could be), is that the song then goes into another random song: Christopher Cross's "Run Ride Like the Wind".  At first I thought that it was because Michael McDonald sings backup on the song, I thought the was one of the Doobie Brothers (which he's not, I looked it up) so now I really  have no idea why this song is in my brain. Anyway, thanks a bunch...DAWN.

{doo bee, doo bee dooooo....}

Updated to add:

From my my friend Andrea:

...Cause, if you're saying Michael McDonald isn't a Doobie Brother...well, I'll just have to argue with you...while its true he is no longer a doobie brother, he was indeed at one time (I can reference
songs and albums if you don't believe me...)

Okay, so I didn't say my research was all that uh, extensive when I looked it up, but at least that makes sense to me now.  I guess I shouldn't doubt my original gut feeling.

And um, as Andrea also corrects:

and side note...its "Ride Like the Wind"...I'm just sayin.... :)

Oh, yeah. Right. I knew that.

EIGHT MINUTES, PEOPLE. EIGHT WHOLE MINUTES OF SLEEP is what I'm working on.

Thanks, Andrea! 

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My sister Kate called me this morning and I guess in Mommy World having no kids (both dropped off at daycare) and no work and no appointments to go to is a big deal. She is beyond giddy as this is the first time that all of these have coincided.  She decided to start her big day of freedom by going to Starbucks. "I"m actually  WALKING *IN* the store! And with no 3 year old tugging at me!" but felt panicked at the idea of ordering.  "How the hell do you order here? I don't know what to do."   She ordered "something" and took her first sip and choked which resulted in whipped cream coming out her nose.   [*sigh*] Amateurs.

Baby steps, Kate. Baby steps.

(By the way, the peppermint mocha is back. Whoo-hoo!)

 

Things that I have learned

I've decided to add this new category over here at oncemorewithfeeeling.  I feel that, if nothing else can come from this site, it is that I can impart some knowledge that I have gained just by me being me.  More to the point, here at Mistake Central, you can learn from my fuck ups so you don't have to.  (Ooh, I think I found myself a new banner.)

Confused? A perfect recent example would be "You should read your plane ticket before you head off for the plane and to be sure that the times are followed by an "a" or "p" to actually indicate time, else you will be arriving on time for your flight NUMBER." (it should also be noted that my return flight was at 12:15 and my flight number was 1272. My new conspiracy theory is that the airlines are INTENTIONALLY trying to screw with you.)

See?  Solid, practical, laboratory tested (and free!) knowledge you can use in everyday life. Gosh, I'm swell.

As the first installment of "Things that I have learned", I present to you:

Do NOT come home from a dentist appointment and take a belt from a 2 liter bottle of Diet Sierra Mist (oh shut up, you don't use a glass every time either, you know it)  while your mouth is still "under the influence of Novocaine"...

You don't need me to finish this one off, right? I mean, you know what happens?  Cool. Just checking.

By the way, this is true of all beverages.  Though thankfully for my work clothes,  in this instance it was a clear one.

"Crack is Whack."

My sister Emily, as you may or may not know, is rounding out her final 4-5 weeks of being pregnant.  For whatever reason, she felt compelled to keep her husband "involved" in the process and has him reading books and just recently, going to some birthing prep class. My sister Kate feels this is just el stupido only with respects to the fact that it opens the door for input. The main crux of her argument is, if you have the ability to push a kid out of through your penis, then we'll talk about how much input you get.  If you can't, then do not talk to me about whether or not I should get, say, drugs during the delivery.  (this was not meant to start an argument abot guys having input or not. I believe the point was that when it's the person popping the kid out, they're the one holding on to the last trump card in the hand that is Delivery). Kate was adamant, "GET THE DRUGS! Everybody gets the drugs!" (can you believe Kate's a graduate of D.A.R.E. ?)

So the other night as he was flipping through one of the pregnancy books doctor's waiting room and innocently enough says to her, "So, you ever think about a water birth?" to which Em ever so subtly negotiated, "Ya ever think about crack!?"

I am pretty sure that WASN'T hormones talking either.

I also think the Dad-to-be is a little worried about, um, howyousay, the uh, effects of a Post-Partum Em. And, to be perfectly honest here?  Quite frankly, so would I. That's just good sense. (Hi, EM! Love ya like a Sis! Keep on trucking!). However, I would NEVER, ...EVER mention this to a 9 month pregnant woman  by stating that the reason behind his concern about the post-partum stuff was because of her (Oh yes, he said this) "anger management issues*".

[insert the "oh no he DI-ints....here]

[and like I said, Oh yes he DID.]

Oh, how excited I am for this kid to arrive.  I have a feeling this family of 3 is gonna give me a lot of material (oh, and I might be genuinely thrilled to see the kid too. right.)

And in a completely random one-off fact about my niece Sarah - today she was going on about the eye color of her family members i.e. "Owen has blue, just like Daddy." And when Kate asked, "and what color eyes do I have?" she took Kate's face in her hands, studied her eyes intently and announced, "You have green eyes, Momma, just like Jennie."  For some reason, when I heard this? I felt like I won a prize or something. Is that weird?

{* note I do not feel Em has anger mgmt. issues. Don't get me wrong, she DOES enjoy her an Excel spreadsheet something fierce (Type-A anyone??) and ditto a good, long winded, occasionally bordering on hysteria, rant every now and again but I wouldn't say she's angry.}

If the Backstreet Boys were Asian

This is hilarious.  The facial expressions that both these guys make? I can't do it justice.  Just roll the damn video.

(special thanks to my bud, Dan "The Asian Sensation", for e-mailing me the link)

Pity, Party of 1, your table's ready.

I've been in a funk lately - and I use "funk" because it's a little less woe-is-me than "depressed" even though that might be a somewhat more accurate a term here.  You ever have the feeling your very overdue for a really good cry though not sure what  exactly you'd cry about? That's where my head's at these days.  Just kinda....low, I guess.  And again, nothing is really going wrong or awful in my life but I feel like I'm walking around with this IV cocktail of Inertia and Self-Loathing being pumped into my veins, and it's pissing me off.

So pissed of AND depressed. FABulous. Yeah, really, you want to invite me to your next party.

And if I really wanted to do this post Honest, I'd even cop to the fact that this has been the case for a really long ass time. The fact that my sense of humor is still intact and that I am a good self-talker-outer, I can snap out of it for awhile. 

I really wish I knew what was eating at me or why I'm like this.  Last year, I even went so far to talk to someone who gets my hard earned coin to find out. Though it was a very brief stint I could tell I wasn't feeling it.  Or maybe I was feeling the person.  She was an M.S.W. not a psychologist or your garden variety therapist (which coincidentally, social work is what I went to school for) and I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere.  Or that I wouldn't.  Whatever the case, it was short lived and I'm basically back to where I started.  Stuck.

Anyway, last night I was speaking with my sister Kate about the overdue cry vibe I've been feeling and the infamous Pity Party I'd like to throw and as those parties tend to be very exclusive, Darling, it'd be just the one in attendance. She somehow managed to snare herself an invite to my exclusive party and tonight we're dining somewhere where we can rock out to my favorite party-mix, The Poor Me's Greatest Hits (Vol1).  Maybe misery really DOES, in fact, love company. 

Yeah, this entry pissing me off....onto something  else.

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Speaking of moods - you ever notice that the baristas at Starbucks are ALWAYS in a good mood? I mean, have you ever met a Debbie Downer barista?  I haven't. Maybe I should go work for Starbucks.  Maybe that's all this is.

Random trivia of the day:

Wanna know how the band Nickelback got its name?

Well, the lead singer used to work for Starbucks and the drinks would be $1.95, $2.95 and $3.95 and all day he would say to his customers, "Here's your nickel back." 

Yes, this has been filed in my brain for infinity.  Scary, no?

FOR SALE: Flux Capacitor- $250 or best offer

It seems my Flux capacitor is not getting the 1.21 jigawatts it needs to run properly. 

Back from Dallas and I am still having issues with Time.  And  now Dates. And God only knows what else.

After the better part of 10 hours in airports yesterday, I got back to Boston last night around 8 p.m. It took me about 30 minutes at the baggage terminal to realize that my luggage wasn't coming home with me.  Not that big a deal.  Figured it'd show up eventually and I live close enough to the airport that even if I had to drive there to get it later, not THAT huge an inconveience. Got the call during Grey's Anatomy that they had the bag and they would be delivering it to my house in the next few hours.  They just didn't know when exactly- so the asked would I be still up at midnight (um, I guess so) but I wasn't really listening all that intently cuz, well, GREY'S ANATOMY was on and I wanted to get back to the TV as soon as possible.  I could have asked some pertinent questions, say like, "does this have a chance of showing up much later than midnight?" But again. TV. Grey's. Anatomy. Figured they'd call when they got to my house so I rushed them off the phone.

At 1:15 a.m. they called me.  I was in the middle of an important REM cycle.  Bastards.   Got my suitcase though, so that's cool.

Also important to note, I left a voicemail for my boss right after my flight got in to say that I would be in late today as I had a dentist appointment (8a.m.- ugh.) After 5 hours or so of sleep, got up early (for me) and drove the thrity minutes to get to my dentist's office.

Today I managed to show up 24 hrs early for the appointment. 

What the hell is wrong with me?

Call boss's voicemail, say I'll be in on time - appt. is tomorrow. Get to work before him, tell him to ignore both my messages but - too late. He's heard them both. And the Missed Flight Story.  Laughs at me.

Anywaaaays.

On a more awesome note, Grey's Anatomy? I am really loving this show.  I mean, loved it from Day One but uh, last night? When Alex kissed Izzie?  Thought I was gonna die. Holy crap does that guy look to be an awesome kisser. HOTTTTT.  He is my new TV crush (he was already headed there; now he's just sealed his fate).

It was so hot, I had to look him up.  He lives with his WIFE (frowny face) and FIVE CHILDREN (5x the frowny face) in NY.  Guess that kills any chance I had/have.  And please, don't e-mail me that he's a Scientologist or something. My day's already been a little evil towards me (how WISH I could rant about work - cuz BOY, would I).

Happy  Monday. Here's a picture of Justin Chambers aka Dr. Alex from Grey's Anatomy.

Edited to add: No, serious. It was hot. It was't that hard, mashing kissing that actors do to portray "passionate kiss".  I really wanted to be that actress on the end of that kiss.  If you have TiVoed it, I am sorry I ruining the surprise, but at least be happy you have this on TiVo so you can watch it over, and over, and over again.

Literacy Isn't for Everyone/Conspiracy Theory

So...

Wanna know how MY night is going?

Too bad. You're gonna.

So...

Guess where I should be?

I said GUESS, GOD DAMNIT.

If you guessed, "On a plane to Dallas to see your friends Amy & Scott who you haven't seen in forever and meeting up with your fiance who you made link a business trip down there so he could go for free and you could use his frequent flier miles", well, ...you would be correct. Gold star for you, smartypants.

But then you say, "Huh, I wonder why Jen isn't on her flight?"

Hmmmm, excellent, excellent question.  Are you like an investigative reporter or something?

Well, I missed my flight. I missed my flight because APPARENTLY I CANNOT READ A SIMPLE TICKET.

Here is a copy of what I like to call "Motherfucking Exhibit A":

You guys are smart folks. Pop quiz:   What time was my departure? 

Now what time do you think *I* thought it was?

[Jeopardy music humming in background]

Well, guess who found out the hard way that her flight was most certainly NOT at 5:43?

Yeaaaahhhhh.

I am so pissed off.  And what's worse? I have no one to pin this on.  I mean, OTHER than me.  So, "corollary": I am pissed off at myself.

I can't remember the last time I got a hard copy ticket. And I got these and I did a quick flip and saw 543.

IDIOT. INFINITY. ME.

So now Mike is hanging out with my friends by himself (ooh Scott, please be nice and don't put Mike on the spot) while I sit here and stew and drink cheap wine and eat microwave mac & cheese.

This concludes the illiteracy portion of this post.

Next up: CONSPIRACY THEORY.

So, after the ticket agent saw my face turn sheet-white as I was at her counter at 4:59 for a 5:05 flight, and after a few, "oooooooh God"s (and variations of same), my Fight or Flight skills started to kick in and I pulled it together and try to find world renowned Plans B, C...

but....

Problem 1: There are no other flights tonight.

Problem 2: Frequent Flier (FF) tickets are not honored by other airlines.

Problem 2b: Sister Airline US AIR has nothing as well.

Problem 3: It's a weekend.

Problem 4: Flights are booked up* tomorrow through United. Even if they weren't, they only allow so many FF tix per flight.

Problem: 5: I'm basically fucked because it's "yeah, there are a lot of football games going on this weekend." (Huh? Fucking FOOTBALL is ruining this for me?)

Problem 6: If I get on another airline, it's gonna run me mega bucks, just for ONE WAY (barring a miracle).

Problem 7: Even though United is booked, if I had a regular flight (in lieu of FF miles) and they actually had a seat to spare, it'd cost me about $600 bucks, ONE WAY.

Problem 8: "Here are the numbers for American and Delta...let us know what you want to do" (even though I was told they were booked pretty solid, too)

GAH! This wasn't a week-long trip or anything. I'm supposed to be coming back on SUN-DAY. SUNDAY!

Problems 1-8 was info I'd gathered within 2 visits to the same lady ticket agent. She seemed sympathetic enough, or so  I thought, and I believed her when she said all those things.  In between those visits, I contacted Mike, who I'd gave a quick heads up as to about my remedial reading skills problem/current dilemma and said I was working on it.  Unbeknownst to me, he then called his travel agent, Susan, who had originally booked this flight.  After the, "come back when you're done with your precious panic attack, kid - we're open til eight" send off,  she got in touch with me.

After a few calls and some checking on Susan's part, she said that there *WAS* in fact a seat available on the first flight tomorrow morning with only 1 connection through Charlotte (actually, she saw seat available on the next flight, too - also with a connection). She didn't understand why I was being told that there were no seats to be had (she said she could SEE THEM on her screen).  Therefore, she felt that she literally had to COACH ME on how to handle this.

-Okay, Jen, you have to mess with them a little and make it sound like you know more than they do. So, are there any guys at the ticket counter?

-Uh, I don't know, I'm around the corner...

-Okay, what you want to do is get either a guy or a younger woman who looks like she know what she's doing.  The older ladies have a sticks their butts.  Now, when you get to the counter, you want to say you want a "WAIVER. TO. GO. STANDBY." (she even spelled out "waiver" which I thought was cute given my current literacy issues).  This is different than regular standby. There is a flight at [Oh my God early boring flight info, connecting to boring flight info to Dallas]. 

-Alright, I can handle that...

-Now, like I said, you're gonna find a guy or a young woman...and you need to bring the tears. I'm sorry, but you have to do this, sweetie.  Get them so that your eyes are wet, just to the surface. And hold them there.

{thinking "oh holy fuck, I don't even know how to fake cry, let alone in a  pressure situation (side note: even the police can't make me fake cry). I don't even cry much when things are really bad. I am German. We are a stoic lot. Also, I am insurance geek, not Meryl Streep.}

-Uh-huh.

-Okay, ...{explains more of the intricacies of why I have to say X and fake outs and blah blah blah} Good luck.

-Thank you so much.

I look around.. .All the agents are women. All of which are about the same age (later 30s/early 40s).   I know that the agent that I went to the first 2 times - the same one who saw me turn white(r)- was of no use.  I needed a new mark. A better mark.  One I can work my innocent/desperate mug on (hey, you have your gifts; I have mine). After surveying the counter, I got some woman in her late 30s with long hair in a clip at the crown of her head and wore bangs.  I thought maybe she'd be cool (yeah, like I had really a choice).

I recited what Susan my travel agent/coach told me to say.  But it still looked grim. But I wasn't going to give up. "My ass is getting to Dallas," I repeated to myself nervously.  She said I didn't have to do "the waiver of" deal because it was a FF ticket.  According to her, that was actually in my favor. She also educated me in standby; that it wasn't a first come/first serve scenario, it took into account things such as "MISSED FLIGHTS" and "FREQUENT FLIERS" (check, check!), so that was good.  Sort of. 

Bottom line: I could fly standby for the the TWO (2) flights (1 stopping in Chicago).  Which when you think of it, was not much better  off than I was a few minutes ago.   Seriously, how hard is it to fly standby?  And this sounded really risky - standby for TWO flights?  Was I pushing my luck??

I then asked something and said some red flag word about seat availability and allotment for FF folks what exactly my odds were. My mind was, I just wanted to be able to say I did absolutely everything I could before I took my "cab ride of shame" home.

I wish I could remember EXACTLY what I said to her (so I could arm you with it, should you ever be pressed like I was) because the next thing you know a light bulb went off in her head and she's asking me to "let [her]check something" and typing and clicking and typing and clicking (never once looking up at me) and before you know it, something is coming off a printer and I Have ACTUAL MOTHERFUCKING BOARDING PASSES FOR MY FLIGHT TO CHICAGO AND CONNECTING TO DALLAS. That is to say, NO STANDBY!

HALLELUJAH!

As I saw them printing I didn't want to be too presumptuous or eager and start with the squealing and jumping and heel clicking to think they were ACTUAL boarding passes. For me.(that whole rug pulled from under ya trick has happened to me one too may times) so I just stood there staring at them in disbelief.  Apparently, I said the right thing or (more probable) I looked just THAT pathetic/weary/despondent.

And you know what happened? 

Tears started to well up in my eyes. Actual tears. Real ones.

Excruciating kindness and my Grandma L are my soft spots.  The former plus my sense of relief are what brought on the watery eyes. She got me in a moment of weakness.

And just like my coach instructed, I "held it". I even wiped away a tear (one that wasn't there). But the welling was real. I really thought I wasn't going to Dallas this weekend.  At least not for under 700 BUCKS. Which I clearly don't have (Hell, I don't even have the money to be spending at Target).

Now the agent was telling me what time to be at the airport and how to check in and all that good stuff.  Those boarding passes were NOT a figure of my imagination. HOLY CRAP.

Honestly, if the counter wasn't so high, and I didn't think she'd call Homeland Security? I would have pushed myself up, leaned over and given her a kiss full on the lips.

If she was a lesbian, I would've even offered tongue.

So now the fun part of telling my friends that I won't be there tonight.  I got my buddy Scott and only told him that's I'd missed my flight but I'd see him tomorrow.  He said to me, "you better have a fucking good story" to which I replied, "I really wish I did. It's so stupid, " to which he countered, "then you'd better make one up."

So that is my charge. I need a story. A story meaning NO TRUTH.  I am thinking WILD BEARS (do they even have those in Boston?). Or a possible kidnapping.  Or a last minute Ru Paul concert opportunity, I don't know.

So help a sister out, peeps. Why didn't I make my flight?

(I fear there is a Darwin Award in my near future.)

 

 

These guys have a buddy named "Fatty"

I saw this and maybe it's because I am 12 or I don't know, but this gave me the church giggles.

To lay it out, a few guys are on vacation in Crete and decide to scare their buddy Grant as he has an  "amazing Ned Flanderseque scream". They captured it all on videotape. 

Also, I think their score or "soundtrack" for some for these is also what brings it home.

If you like stupid-funny,  then Just check it out.

Halloween Leftovers

A picture I found from Halloween, 1980. 

At this stage in our relationship, do you really even need me to point out which one is me?

Hint: I'm the BIG GEEK (do you like my garbage bag?).

By the way, nice bangs my mom gave Kate and me. I swear, I think Jim Carey's in Dumb & Dumber were longer. Geez.

Kate was scrambling for a costume idea and I came up with being a Fun Box.  Where the hell that came from I'll never know.  And no dirty  puns please, for these are CHILDREN in all their innocence. Only I get to make those kind of cracks at my family's expense. Heh.

Love the expression on Emily's face.  She looks stunned that she has to hang with 2 dorks for the entire night.  I'm sure she pulled my Dad aside all, "so how can we ditch these losers?"

1-800-Confess

I have been living with a secret. A dark, stupid, vapid secret.

I am completely and utterly addicted to the show Laguna Beach.

It started out as a joke. A "nothing's on tonight" and I threw caution to the wind and sat through the 30 minutes of spoiled, annoying teenagers dealing with their dramas. 

And I walked away annoyed. I mean that; they really bugged the shit out of me.

Yet I came back.  And next thing you know, I'm remembering what night it's on.

This gets worse.

For example, even though all the girls and guys all dress the same, talk the same, have the same flat-ironed hair, and in some instances, have the same names? I can tell them apart. I no longer need the name tag at the bottom of the screen i.e. "Dieter/Stephen's friend" or "Lauren/'LC'"  anymore when they show up on a scene.

The fact that it's SEASON TWO and they still have names written on the screen to help the viewer should tell you how similar they all look and act. And yet, I can discern who's who.

This is not good.  This aint "braggin' rights".

And.

And! If that weren't lame enough for ya, ...

I have major opinions about these folks.

I want to smack Jason, ....no, ....scratch that,  I want to punch Jason in the gut. Hard. I want to tell Jessica to find a backbone and maybe, if she'd not to busy with her flat iron, some self-esteem.  And I hope they watch these shows and cringe. Well, mostly just Jason. God, what a tool.

OY, THE DRAMA!

I won't tell you what or why I have these opinions; no need to drag you down with me.

This is just ridiculous. How did I get here?

To top it all off, I've actually LIED about why I was watching it.

This photo was taken at Laguna Beach this past September over Labor Day. Yeah, I can no longer get away with telling Mike that I am "doing research" for our trip. And when the trip was over, I told him I was watching it to see if I could spot places we went.  We're now into NOVEMBER and I am still watching it.  And now like any good addict, I am standing here before you all to say that:

"REHAB IS FOR QUITTERS!"