a little relief??

dear media-types:

please, i beg of you, PLEASE stop talking about heidi and spencer. i could not possibly care any less about those two buffoons and am just annoyed that any time i turn on the news (yes, they are on the real, live, actual news - apparently people find it interesting that al roker "offended" poor mrs. pratt in an interview), or check my favorite celebrity guilty pleasure sites, THERE THEY ARE. seriously, those two are worse than swine flu and unless you are reporting that they have mysteriously fallen into a black hole or one of heidi's boobs deflated at some event, i do not ever EVER care to hear about them or how famous they think they are ever, EVER again.

can you make that happen??

i lost 25 pounds in 15 minutes!!!

so i am interested in this phenomenon of celebrities who are already pretty tiny people going on these super diets and losing like 20 pounds in 2 weeks and announcing to the world that it was so easy to whittle their enormous size 6 asses into a size 2. and then they give an "exclusive" interview to some trash magazine about how everyone in the world can look as incredible as they do, if only they follow the same routine and eat the same things they did. well i think i have discovered why the rest of us normal people are so damn fat. for one thing, little miss size 00 (which is not even a real size, by the way), I HAVE A JOB. a real one, that requires that i am behind a desk, 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year, from 9am to 5:30pm. so. i'm sure you think it's super easy to have your personal chef make you an egg white omlette with spinach and one slice of turkey bacon every morning before you start your day, but i'm afraid to say i simply do not have the time to eat in the mornings, so i carry a carton of yogurt to work with me and eat it while i am at my aforementioned JOB. strike one against schmucks like ME. also, my time is precious. i live and work in a big city, and i get to work in this magical thing we call a METRO, so whereas your pampered ass can drive around in your huge SUV or have a driver pick you up and drop you off every time you move, i actually have to walk to a metro station, wait for the train, sardine myself in there, change trains, and then walk to my office once i get out of the metro. all of this means that it takes me about 25 minutes to get to and from work every day. and when that means you have to leave the house at 8:30 and you get home at 6, it doesn't really leave much room for those 2 hour workout sessions that you claim changed your life. cause i get home, and i have dinner to cook, laundry to fold, and a dog to walk. if i work out first and then eat later, it's after 8, and we all know it is a MORTAL SIN to consume food after 8pm. i know this cause halle berry said so. and i do not question her. so my other option then is to come home and make dinner and let it settle - which means a workout at like 9pm. which is about an hour before my week day bedtime, and that only gets me hopped up so that's not happening, either. and i am NOT getting up at 5am to work out for 2 hours. i do not care. i will live with this enormous caboose of a beehind forever if it means getting those much needed hours of sleep. you get to sleep until at least 10am. someone makes your breakfast for you. you probably work out around noon or 1, when you are actually awake - unlike the rest of us, who either have to sweat it out on our lunch breaks and then go back to the office smelling like a wet laundry hamper, or who get a lunch break so short it's over before you can even change into your gym clothes. so you see, miss skinny pants, it's NOT that easy. i am a REAL human being. i have shit to do and i have to do it all myself. i do not have an assistant or a publicist or a personal chef. or a personal trainer, for that matter. i work out when i can, and i try not to cook everything i eat in butter (but damn, it's hard to resist). i do not need you telling me how easy it is to be super skinny, ok? get a real job and start eating leftover pizza for breakfast. then maybe i can take you seriously.

there's something about susan

so, this latest internet sensation lady, this singing phenom susan boyle - i must say, i am rather appalled by the whole thing. i've seen the video on youtube, and i agree, she is a very talented and amazing singer. but the entire reason that she's being dubbed "a sensation" is because she is, for lack of a better phrase, rather unfortunate looking. she is known all over the world because she walked out on that stage and belted out a song, and the world said, dang, that ugly lady can sing! how totally and uterly shocking that such an unattractive woman could posses such talent! how amazing and quirky that such a beautiful sound could be emitted by such an unbeautiful person! look! look, world - here is a person who is homely AND she has the voice of an angel! oh my god, world, will wonders never cease??!?!!

all this says to me is that society as a whole is a big fat pile of shallow ass people who are no doubt already planning ms. boyle's makeover and a reality show centering around her first kiss, at the age of 47. seriously, people. have we ever heard of not judging a book by its cover? not all talented people are beautiful. not all beautiful people are talented (or smart, thank you for pointing that out, miss california!). get over yourselves. if i were susan boyle i'd tell the whole world to shove it up their arse (and she would say it like that cause she's scottish).

dear miss california,

i am an AVID perezhilton.com reader. that is the only reason that i've even heard of you, and that's the only reason i had to watch the vido clip of you from the pagent, answering his question regarding gay marriage. as a "beauty pagent" contestant, you are in a position to be criticized, and i know you're proud to have stood up for what you believe in, but what i really took offense at was your remark stating that you "meant no offense" to the gay community by taking a stand against gay marriage. oh really? no offense? no offense, gays of america, but i don't think you have the same rights i have as a heterosexual. no offense, but i think that i should be able to marry the man of my dreams and have a family and tax breaks, but i don't believe you should be able to enjoy that right, gay america. i don't mean to offend you, hardworking, tax paying gay people of america, but i am more of a person than you are because i'm not gay.

think about this, miss california: when you deny a group of people the same rights that other groups are free to enjoy, you tell that group that they are less human than you are. sure, sure, you have your religious or your political beliefs, and that's all fine and dandy, but when you use those beliefs to deny a group of people of the basic human right of FALLING IN LOVE AND MARRYING SOMEONE, what is that group of people to do but take offense?

i mean, no offense, miss california, but i think you are just a narrow minded idiot who blew a perfectly good chance to parade around for the next year with a 47 pound tiara on your head because you stuck with your guns and you told those damn gay people that marriage can ONLY be defined one way. i mean, no offense. that's just what i think of you.

on a day like today

spring is totally flirting with me today. it's all like, oh, hey, lindsey, hey it's spring, you remember me, let me caress your shoulders and kiss you behind the ear a little bit and let's maybe talk about going to bed together. and since i am like a giddy schoolgirl when spring comes around, i totally buy into this and i'm flirting right back - showing a little toe in a pair of sandals, maybe letting spring get a little glimpse of some leg, whispering some promises about a sundress that is pretty much sheer in the right lighting. i am loving spring and spring is loving me. this affair, like every year, will end with spring getting bored with me, and me forgetting all about spring so i can lust after summer, in all of summer's hot hot heatness. but you know, you get into bed with summer and most likely summer will be kinda peeved about you messing around with spring and he will leave you with a sunburn and funny tan lines. and that is just summer's way of sticking it to you without any serious drama, cause then summer is all like, oh, baby, you got burned...this is all spring's fault for not prepping you better for my hotness...let me rub some aloe on your sweet baby skin. and then i am not mad at summer any more.

but i swear, on days like this, when spring first shows up and is all like, hey girl (and he says this in the same voice as whoever that guy is from boys to men that does all the talking parts in the songs), i know you missed me. i know you been dreaming about me. and i might try to play hard to get, just a little, cause i don't want spring to think i am easy. but oh my god, am i ever. every time i see spring, every single year, i always forget that i am pissed that spring just blows into town and then leaves whenever the hell he wants, and i am just like putty in spring's hands. whatever spring wants from me, spring gets. i have no will power. i cannot fight my love for spring. swoon.

in my next life, i am coming back as a lion. but not just any lion, i want to be a lion in a zoo. yeah yeah yeah, animals in captivity and blah blah whatever. on days like this, if i was a lion in a zoo, i would park my ass, belly-up, in the sunniest spot i could find and i would not move. i might even lie there with my tounge hanging out. and i would tell that damn zookeeper that if i did not get a snowball treat while i was lounging, well, someone will be going home without a hand today. and i could do that cause i'd be a lion. and you cannot reason with a lion.

but that was totally random and had nothing to do with the first part of my posting. if i were editing myself, there would be all kinds of notes in the margin of this, like, these things are not related, where are you going with this? and then i would answer myself- spring has come back to me. i am not going anywhere with this. and i do not really care.

death cab for WOOOOOOOOOOtie

seeing as how today i celebrate my 29th year of life, i thought i would blog about something poignant about where all the time goes and what i've accomplished so far and all that sentimental gooey stuff, but then i thought, that would be kinda boring and only 2 people read this anyway, so i really can't afford to bore my readers.

i thought instead i would make note of something i found rather amusing last night, while in attendance at a Death Cab for Cutie concert (that was largely attended by stoned college kids and girls who think Ben Gibbard is attractive). this is how an audience communicates with their beloved rock stars:

Rock Star: Hey! How's everyone doing tonight?
Audience: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Rock Star: Man, it's so f'n awesome to be back in DC, we love this city!
Audience: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Rock Star: Thank you so much! This next song is called Blah Blah Blah and we hope you like it!
Audience: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Rock Star: You guys rock! Thanks for coming, goodnight!
Audience: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

so i thought, wouldn't it just be hilarious if we responded to EVERYONE the way we respond to rock stars?

Boss: Goodmorning, Lindsey, how are you today?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Boss: So, were you able to get that paperwork down to accounting today?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Boss: I'm on my way to a meeting, can you hold my calls until I get back?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Fellow Metro Rider: Excuse me, you left your umbrella on your seat (hands it back).
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Fellow Metro Rider: Can you tell me if this train goes to Union Station?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
Fellow Metro Rider: Wow, is it always this crowded??
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Verizon Customer Service: Thank you for holding, Mrs. Hansen, how can I help you today?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
VCS: Hello, are you having a techincal problem with your phone?
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!
VCS: I think your phone must be broken. I'm upgrading you to a new one and we'll get that out to you today. All I can hear is someone shouting.
Me: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

really, i could do this all day. and i would totally crack myself up. but, whatever. i'm 29 today. i can be as immature as i feel like it. so THERE!!!

gross. i'm a grown up.

I was recently talking to my sister about how I’ve all but lost my taste for alcohol (seriously, since I quit drinking during the week, not only have I seen a dramatic decrease in the frequency of my headaches, it’s also caused a dramatic decrease in how many drinks it takes to inebriate myself), and I feel like it was not really that long ago when I was throwing back shots, sleeping in my bathtub (because of the aforementioned shots, duh), and working as a beertub girl on weekends for extra drinking money. (oh, wait, did I just make myself sound like a loser?) Fast forward a mere 5 years and here I am, almost 30 and in bed by 10:30 (11 o’clock, tops!) during the week, midnight on the weekends (unless I stay home, in which case my 10:30 bedtime usually still applies), cooking dinner almost every night and spending my Saturdays cleaning house. Five years ago I would have been getting ready to go OUT at 10:30…not preparing myself for bed. Of course, I guess it would be easier for me to still maintain that kind of lifestyle if one glass of wine didn’t make me feel like someone was trying to force my head apart at the middle, or if a martini or being in a smoky bar didn’t mean spending the whole next day vomiting. I should just accept the fact that I’m getting older, that I’m a grown up now and that it is not appropriate for me to ask for the newest cabbage patch kid (do they even make those anymore??) for my birthday. Instead I have to ask for practical things, like yoga dvds, a tripod for my camera, a new spring outfit for work. Although I am hoping the birthday fairy will bring me a new bike for my bday, since I am very eager to ride around dc once the weather returns to normal in another month or so…maybe I can get one with streamers on the handlebars and a basket for my dolls? Then again, they don’t make bikes like that in my size, just like those cool kids’ shoes that light up when you walk. I want some of those things! Or those wheelies that are like tennis shoes with the roller skate that pops out of the bottom. Why are these things just for kids? I bet cause someone old like me would bust their face and then sue the company, instead of falling down, skinning a knee, and sucking it up like you should – or, like a kid would. Anyway, here I am lamenting the fact that I am getting older and acting older, but then when I do find myself going out, I look around me at the idiot college kids who are only concerned with actually trying to drink their own faces off, and I think, damn, I wouldn’t be that age again for the world. So I guess I will take my early bedtime and my 1-3 drinks per week and my no longer smoking and staying home on a Friday night to watch movies on demand and order Chinese. Cause the older I seem to get, the more fun that stuff seems to get. Plus, it means way less headaches…and I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I woke up and wondered, “where the hell am i??” maybe growing up isn’t as gross as I thought...

random thursdayness

i don't have anything funny or poignant to blog about today, but i think it's been a while since the interwebs have heard from me and i'm sure that all 2 of my readers are just pining away for my thoughts on life. so i thought i would just share a few of the completely random wonderings that have been running around inside my head today...i ask questions like this all the time to whoever is in my vicinity, i'll just wonder aloud in the car or something, and it's gotten to the point where most people laugh at why i would think they would know the answer, or they make up some ridiculous response (which i will probably believe anyway). i expect my friends to be like wikipedia. i do not think that is asking too much.

i wonder how many photos albums i appear in. think about how many places you've been where people are taking pictures. how many of those people's pictures have included me somewhere in the background or just inside the frame of the photo? i should start a website dedicated to finding yourself in other people's photo albums. i have so many pictures where i'm posing with people i don't know (mardi gras is a good explanation for that), or can't remember (again, mardi gras), or didn't mean to include in my composition. surely there must be some photo album in thailand in someone's grandmother's living room where i show up in the background of a 1987 family photo at disney world. or maybe my new year's eve in london in 1998 made it into some random french person's album. the possibilities are endless.

i wonder who thought up malted milk balls. more specifically, whoppers. even more specifically, robin eggs. what does it mean for a milk ball to be malted? how does one "malt" something? can other things be malted, or just milk? why are robin eggs specific to easter? why do we eat so much candy right before bathing suit season? what does spring really have to do with chocolate cadbury eggs?

how do they get a crane up on top of a building that is being constructed? if the crane is used for constructing the building, what do they use to construct the crane? do the crane operators have to pee and eat lunch up in that little box or do they come down? when the building is really tall like in new york, how do they get the crane down afterwards? i mean, i realize that they take it apart piece by piece, but wouldn't they need another crane to lower all those pieces?

how come some cultures of people can have a variety of eye colors, but others only have dark eyes? or hair? why do asian or african people all have dark hair and not blonde or red?

is it possible that my desk is in some sort of time warp where time is slowed down and the rest of the world is moving along normally but i'm stuck here where every minute literally takes an hour?

if it's true that you could use a telescope far out in space to see earth as it used to be because of the rate of the speed of light, why wouldn't they put one out there so we could see the dinosaurs? how far away would a telescope have to be to do that?

how come english sounds so different depending on where it's being spoken? how does a region get an accent? why do people in boston say things differently than people in kentucky if we are all speaking the same language? and how did all those people in europe all end up with different languages when their countries are so close together?

i know some of these require a scientist or a linguist (how do you get to be a linguist, anyway??) or an engineer to answer, so maybe i should make up my own mormon-esque religion and marry one of every profession, but imagine the laundry i'd have to keep up with. i just want one person to know all the answers. i guess that's why i heart the internets so very, very much.

southern by the grace of god

being out of the south for so long (ten years!) has changed some things about me…i don’t think i say ya’ll as much (especially not in professional situations), i’ve gotten slightly accustomed to cold weather (but i still don’t like it), and i don’t really yearn for crawfish and daiquiris like i did in my first few years away (but that doesn’t mean that i love them any less). but put me back in the south, even just for a few days, and i am reminded of all the incredible things about the south, the gulf coast in particular, that are so deeply ingrained in my being. there are so many subtle things that i forget all about until i’m back there, silly little things, like jeeps or ant hills and spanish moss, that totally slip my mind until they are in front of my face again. i wouldn’t give up living in dc to go back to new orleans any time soon, that is for sure. i love my life in the city and all the amazing things that are right at my fingertips, but being back home reminded me of all the things down south that are without comparison. like the sight of a shrimping boat being followed by seagulls, or how it feels when a flock of brown pelicans fly right over your head (those suckers have enormous wingspans!). things like the sugary sweet taste of a snoball on a warm day, or straining to see the outline of the superdome from the lakefront on the northshore. things like how your heart (or at least mine) sort of skips a beat when 5 pounds of hot boiled crawfish is put on the table in front of you, or the drawl that you didn’t even realize you missed until you start to hear it in your own voice, too. or the way that waitresses down south call everyone “darlin” or “hon,” and people ask how your moman’em are (yankee translation: how is your mother and your immediate family). it’s a very different way of life down there, and while i’m so happy to be where i am and have the opportunities i’ve had since leaving louisiana, visiting again makes me understand why the word “fierce” is so often used in describing the pride that southern people have in where they come from. i do love the south in a way i can’t explain. it still blows my mind that people here ask what king cake is, or if i’ve ever been to “the mardi gras.” and the idea of not getting together with your neighbors and eating crawfish by the pound, spread out on newspaper on someone’s fold up card table…that’s just weird to me. people up here don’t eat crawfish? what on earth is wrong with them? no second lining at your cousin’s wedding? what is a wedding without it? no all-nite drive-thru daiquiri stop on the way to your moman’em’s? what else am i supposed to drink then? no one has a gun rack in the back of their truck? what do they go huntin' with?

it took a while to adjust to moving north. you can argue that i'm technically still south of the mason dixon line, but that doesn't mean that i am off for the entire week of mardi gras, or that people up here think eating a mudbug is anything other than completely disgusting. it's just not the south. and i am glad for that. it makes me that much more thankful to be there, when i do get the chance to visit. in the words of the tattoo of the good ol boy i once dated, american by birth, southern by the grace of god. and really, there is no better way to put it than that.

why being a normal human being is the best thing on earth

i think i daydream a lot about being some rich, famous celebrity, who never has to worry about money and who can just spend her days jet setting about and shopping for $3,000 purses. but the more i think about this (and the more time i spend on perezhilton.com), the less i think this is the kind of life for me. for one thing, i can leave my house. anytime. no one follows me around with a camera, so if i happen to pick a wedgie while i’m out walking my dog, it won’t be on the front page of us weekly the next day. and i know that i’ll never see my slightly-longer-than-my-big-toe second toe circled in red and pointed out for the whole world to scrutinize. i can indulge myself and buy cheetos at the store without anyone judging me for putting on a few pounds. if i ever happen to experience any kind of “wardrobe malfunction,” it won’t end up all over the internet. when i do happen to manage to get away on vacation, i can maybe end up topless in a hot tub without having to sue someone or apologize for making a “very big mistake” or having a “temporary lapse in judgement.” i can get mad and call someone a douchebag without having to promise to go to rehab for anger management issues. when i do have one or two more drinks than i should, rumors don’t swirl about how i got drunk and started a fight and/or no articles surface on how my drinking is out of control and i need to get myself to promises as quickly as possible. if i eat a big burrito for lunch, my belly doesn’t cause cnn to speculate on whether or not i may be with child. i can shake hands with someone without being linked to them in the biblical sense. no one takes my picture in the airport so i can wear my sweats and bring my stuffed santa claus without facing ridicule (oh who am i kidding, i always get dressed up to fly). i don’t have to deal with being blinded by paparazzi flashes 24/7, so i can get away with only wearing sunglasses when the sun is actually in my face. i can go to wal mart for underpants without people saying i’m a redneck idiot just like that britney spears (actually, maybe people do say this about me and i just don’t know…). i can drink diet coke or diet pepsi or vitamin water or gatorade without ever worrying about getting sued for a breach of contract. i can change the channel when an awards show is really boring, instead of having to sit through the whole damn thing in a really uncomfortable dress that i am sewn into and will no doubt be unflattering from at least 3 angles. when i have one of those days where i can’t conjure up a cute outfit, i still do not end up on the “what was she thinking” list. so really, celebrities can have their money and their paparazzi, and live in their 5.6 million dollar apartments with their 6 miniature toy yorkies named after all the other major cities they have homes in. i can wear the same pants for 5 days IN A ROW and no one gives a shit. so there. who’s got the life now, bitches?

the niki and lindsey show

god forbid you should ever sit next to or behind or in front of my sister and i when we are at any sort of performance: dance, music, play, whatever...you don't want to be the poor bastards who end up on either side of us. niki and i are both very opinionated and brilliant people, and we tend to, uhh...critique what we're watching as we are watching it. i know she just blogged about the performance we saw at the kennedy center last night, and DUH, anything she can do i can do better (and my bangs are so much cuter, i don't care if you cut yours first!), but i just couldn't get the image of everyone's favorite grumpy old theatre goers, statler and waldorf, out of my head, and i was thinking that maybe jim henson's creative team was looking for a younger version of this dynamic duo, to really reach out and relate to today's audiences. i mean, we are pretty much a gold mine of hilarity and the henson empire would be FOOLS to pass an opportunity like this up...come to a concert with us. we will chat your ears off about the set design, the play list, the obnoxious people in the audience next to us who won't shut up. see a play with us, and i promise, we will entertain you way more than anything on stage. and if you ever get a chance to catch "jeckyl and hyde" the musical with us, oh my god are you in for a treat. i think we actually embarassed my mother on that one, since neither one of us could contain our laughter at one actor, his face painted right down the middle so he could be both jeckyl AND hyde, having a song-fight WITH HIMSELF. brilliant. GIVE THAT MAN A TONY! GIVE HIM ALL THE TONYS!!! really. half the fun of going to things like this is talking to my sister the whole damn time. no wonder my mother still has to separate us in church. if she'd didn't we'd probably heckle the priest right off the altar.

the ratio of cows to people

living in a big city like dc gives you all kinds of opportunities to observe human behavior. riding the metro every day is pretty much the equivilant of receiving a master’s degree in psychology from some big fancy school, as far as i am concerned. this makes me totally qualified to make statements up and try and pass them off as being true, since i graduated from the u of wmata, which would be the university of the washington metro transit authority to those of you who don’t speak dc-bonics. so it has come to my attention that i think that humans may indeed be more closely related to cows than primates, and i make this statement because you can practically hear the moo-ing when a crowd of metro-riders begin moving forward to squeeze their collective selves through one narrow door like there is a cattle prod being dangled in front of their dull, glassy eyes. seriously, this boggles my mind. think about it. if you are on the metro, at an airport, even in line at the store, wherever the big crowd of people is, that is where people will gravitate towards. so what if there is no line to go up the escalator on the other side of the platform? i want to stand in line with the rest of the herd and go up THIS ONE. no line for baggage check just a few desks down? forget it. i wanna be where everyone else is. god forbid we ever talk to anyone in that line to make sure this is, indeed, where we should be, we just see a line and assume we should be in it, so off we go. just yesterday i was standing on the curb in a busy intersection waiting for the light to change, and the guy next to me starts to cross, so naturally, i start to cross, too. only i had to jump back up on the curb to avoid being hit by a bus, so it’s not always a wise idea to follow the heard. but i noticed when i was leaping back to safety that i was not the only one who had followed this fool’s lead. remember when your mom used to say, “if so and so jumped off of a bridge, would you do it too?” apparently, the answer to that question is YES.

fur coats and feather dusters

as a resident of our nation's capital and someone who takes public transportation to work every day, i pretty much expect to encounter some pretty wierd shit on the metro. sometimes it's something as benign as someone next to me eating bbq pork rinds at 8:15 in the morning, other times you get really lucky and some crazy person is sreaming at her fellow passengers because they let the cats out of her purse and now she will never be able to find her way home. and then there are the times when some guy walks on to your car and you think, oh my heavens, i must have been a very good girl today and the gods have decided to reward me, cause he is standing there, with his chest all puffed out with pride, wearing a full length fur coat that looks like fozzie bear and the cowardly lion had a baby and he went out into the woods and killed it himself and made the fanciest most amazing techincolor fur coat he could come up with. seriously. musicals have been created around coats less stunning than this one. i'm thinking, surely this man must know that he is indeed a man, and therefore has no business wearing such flippery. had there been a woman inside this muppet costume of a coat, i would not have looked twice (except maybe i would have said "shun! shuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!! under my breath or at least in my head), but no no, this was an otherwise completely normal looking man in a red sweater and a pair of dark brown cordoroys. i'm always amazed at men that think it's ok for them to weath a fur coat like it's just totally ordinary and no one should think anything of it other than how damn fine he looks in it. knock, knock. who's there? normal. normal who? EXACTLY. this could only compare with the woman i saw a few months ago on the metro, who was wearing, and i am not lying, a feather duster in her head where a ponytail should be. again, like it was TOTALLY NORMAL. i wonder if she worked as a housekeeper and figured she would save herself the time and trouble and just go on and attach that thing to her head...or maybe she was thinking, gee, this feather duster is looking a lot better than my raggedy ass ponytail, i'm gonna put it in my head and i will be fancy as a circus pony, oh yes i will! if i have to spend 20 minutes every day getting to work and 20 minutes retreating home every day, i thank the lord in heaven above for blessing me with the crazies, cause they are way more entertaining than the newspaper will ever be.

seriously...there must be something wrong with me

today is monday. it was snowing when i woke up. i did NOT get a snow day. i have a pounding headache. these things are all directly related to one another.

anyone who knows me probably hears me go on and on about my headaches from time to time. i mean, sometimes even i think i am making this shit up cause i feel like i am always, always saying, "i have a headache." first thing when i wake up: i have a headache. midmorning sitting in front of my computer: i have a headache. sitting on the couch at home after dinner: i have a headache. WHAT GIVES? i recently decided that taking upwards of 6 excederin a day really wasn't going to be helpful in the long run and, fun as it is to sleep on an ice pak every night, i sucked it up and went to a neurologist. wanna know a secret? THIS WAS NOT MY FIRST TIME. i saw one when we lived in louisiana like 90 years ago, and i was seeing one for a while when i first moved up to dc, back in 2005. i have had MRIs, i have been on about 8 different meds, i have kept "headache journals", and had my eyes checked, but nothing seems to give anyone any reason for WHY my head feels like it's going to fall off about 85% of the time.

so, i tried a new neurologist this time. the conversation went like this:

him: so, how often are you having headaches?
me: um, how often is always? can i just say always?
him: are you taking anything over the counter?
me: i'm going through a bottle of 100 pills every 2 weeks. that's not bad, right?
him: any head injuries i should know about?
me: head injuries? no. not really. i mean, i cracked my head open when i was 4, fell out of a tree house when i was 6, smacked my head on concrete running around a pool when i was 9 and i was dropped off of a cheerleading pryamid when i was 12, but you don't think that has anything to do with this, do you?
him: have you had an MRI before?
me: twice. apparently my brain is NOT made of candy corn. i was dissappointed.
him: hmmmm...well let's start with another MRI and go from there.
me: excellent. where can i nominate you for doctor of the year?

so. that was last week. the MRI is next monday. if my head doesn't fall off by then. that machine is kind of scary and you have to be really still for like an hour. and i still don't believe that they can see inside my brain without being able to see what i'm thinking. i think maybe they just want to magnetize my brain so they can steal my secrets and all of my brilliant ideas. and i have lots of those, you know. i don't particularly like being on medication, either...and so far i've been on like 3 antidepressants and an anti-seizure medication for my headaches. so i was running around, not having seizures and singing the smurf song all day, but i was still having headaches. so. maybe this time i will get something that is you know, like an anti-HEADACHE medication and things will be as great as they were before i climbed into my friend's treehouse in my rollerskates and rolled backwards out the trap door and wound up with the greatest migraine this world has ever seen. maybe.

everyone else is doing it!

i have thus far resisted this latest facebook thing where people tag you in a note and you then have to return their note with a note of your own, constructed of 25 random things about you. i have resisted for 2 reasons: 1. it’s dumb and 2. anything i would put on that list, i can guarantee my sister would already know about me, and that sort of takes the fun out of letting the world know how exciting and truly original you are. so i figured i would generate my own random list, but i would call it something else and make the subject different but the same. i’m making a list of 25 songs that i could (and often do) listen to on repeat, day after day, for the rest of my life. you can tell a lot about a person by the music on their ipod, and if they like it enough to play it over and over and over, then i figure that has to be the same kind of announcement to the world as posting something on facebook like, “at the age of 12, i was completely obsessed with abraham lincoln, dinosaurs, horses, and the titanic, and spent most of my free time reading books on any of those subjects” – cause see, niki already knew that anyway.

so here i go. here is my list of 25 random songs to listen to on repeat:

1. somebody to love, by queen: this could perhaps be the best song on the planet ever, but i’m still waiting for the results on my research to come back

2. slow ride, by fog hat: i don’t care if it makes me sound like a toothless redneck, i want to make babies and live in a trailer park with this song

3. magic man, by heart: cause there is this one part with the drums that gets me more excited than i should mention on the interwebs

4. edge of seventeen, by stevie nicks: if you have to ask why, you obviously don’t deserve to know

5. oh! darling, by the beatles: did you know paul went into the studio early every day for like a week to give his voice that scratchy/smoky bar singer affect? and every time i hear that song, i thank him for his dedication to his craft. that actually may be my favorite beatles song.

6. love thy will be done, by martika: yes, that’s right. martika. as in, toy soldiers. as in, kids incorporated. drive to and from school every day for 3 years with niki clark and see if this song doesn’t become a part of your bloodstream

7. feels like the first time, by foreigner: i swear, every time i hear it honestly feels like the very first time

8. faithfully, by journey: loving a music man ain’t always what it’s supposed to be, but i will stand by steve perry until the end of time

9. take a bow, by madonna: the one and only madonna song on my ipod. she is a kook. but that song kicks ass.

10. stay with you, by john legend: cause if i’m gonna be listening to 25 songs on repeat, at least one of them needs to be a babymaking song

11. africa, by toto: another one i don’t think i need to explain

12. baraccuda, by heart: another song that gets me all kinds of worked up…ann and nancy 4 eva

13. yeah, by usher and co: i am probably going to regret saying this on the internets, but only like 2 people read this anyway, and i know niki agrees with me. i never, ever, ever get tired of this song. i know it’s sad, but my inner cocktail waitress hears it and wants to get up and dance on the tables, every time

14. movin’ out, billy joel, and

15. don’t ask me why, billy joel: both of these songs have gotten me through multiple long distance solo car trips. yes, on repeat. i see nothing wrong with listening to the same 2 songs over and over for 5 hours.

16. blackbird, by the beatles: really, i could listen to the whole white album on repeat, minus revolution 9, which still annoys me/gives me the creeps, but blackbird especially (or maybe martha my dear…or happiness is a warm gun…)

17. blaze of glory, bon jovi (see reasoning behind # 6)

18. what a wonderful world, louis armstrong: never fails to remind me of home, and now, dancing with my dad at my wedding – both of which simultaneously make me want to smile and cry

19. ne me quitte pas, nina simone: no idea what she’s saying, but listening to this on my ipod makes me feel like i should be wearing a trench coat in paris, walking around in some noir film where it is always raining but i am never wet and perpetually smoking one of those skinny cigarettes, trying to find my long lost love who ends up being the private detective that i hired…a feeling i don’t mind experiencing over and over into eternity

20. bohemian rhapsody, queen: wayne’s world aside (and i’ve actually never seen that movie, anyway) this must be one of the most fun songs on earth to sing in the car (or airport, on the metro, in the store, wherever), and i have choreographed an amazing performance to accompany the song. you should be so lucky as to be stuck in a car with me when that song comes on the radio.

21. 25 or 6 to 4, chicago: the freakin horns in this song are enough to carry me through the end of time, no problem

22. sultans of swing, dire straits: cause it’s an effing great song

23. walking in memphis, marc cohn: because i am cool enough to cruise around in the car with the windows down and this song blaring on the radio

24. something, the beatles: this song clearly was not written for me (actually, it was written by george harrison about patti boyd), but even that does not stop me from listening over and over and over…and wishing that someday, someone actually will write a song like that about me

25. higher love, steve winwood: just because niki knew i would

now, i’m not saying this is ALL I WOULD EVER LISTEN TO. i’m just saying these are 25 of possibly more songs i could listen to from here on out. don’t judge me. although, i guess the entire point of exercises like this is that you will.

proof that money can't buy you smarts

in the midst of millions of americans losing their jobs last year, and the constant news stream about the stock market, housing foreclosures, and hard times – hell, i hear even ol’ hugh heffner has ixnayed the playboy mansion super bowl party this year due to poor sales this quarter – i was totally delighted that one couple from florida recently decided to give the flailing economy the middle finger by coughing up $155,000 to have their beloved family dog cloned. the fact that these people can turn on the news and see a father kill his entire family and then himself because he and his wife were both laid off, or that an additional 20,000 people lost their jobs today, and be so completely unscathed by all of this that they would decide to spend that kind of money on cloning a dog…i mean, what is that about? no doubt a person is totally entitled to spend their hard earned money in whatever way they choose, but i guess it just rubs me the wrong way when people are losing their homes, their jobs and their dignity left and right, and some a-holes decide that fluffy was just the best pet ever and must be reproduced, to the tune of 155 large. really? if you need to piss your money away, i mean, crap, i’ll take it. i could do something a lot more useful with that money than clone a freakin dog. don’t get me wrong, i love my dog. i mean, i LOVE that dog. probably more than is healthy. like i lay in bed and stare into his eyes on a regular basis. if i could call him while i’m at work, i totally would. i follow him from room to room. but there is not a chance that i would drop that kind of money to have him cloned when he’s getting up there. shit, i have a hard time coughing up $100 for his heartworm medicine!!! i’m thinking perhaps someone should write these people a letter and tell them to pull their heads out of their rear ends and take a look around at what the rest of us are calling a RECESSION. i mean, 155k is a lot of money. some schools operate on budgets smaller than that. some people don’t make that much in years, some nonprofits could feed and house homeless people on that amount for quite some time. hell, sarah palin didn’t even spend that much on all her fancy campaigning clothes. but these people are opening up their wallets to have the cloned embryo of their precious pooch implanted in another dog so they will be able to have the EXACT SAME DOG they had before. i mean, what’s wrong with another dog? there are millions in the shelters all over the country. most of them get “laid off” too, because they don’t find homes in time. if they have all this money stashed away that they can clone their dog in times like these, maybe president obama should be knocking on their door to see if there’s anything they can contribute to the stimulus package. seriously, why should the taxpayers pick up the tab when these clowns clearly have money to burn?? only in america would you find a couple like this - hey, honey, what should we do with all this money? give some to charity, maybe? or a local foundation? help support after school programs for at risk kids or donate to a food bank? oh! oh! oh! i know! let’s have the dog cloned. brilliant. just brilliant.

On frozen precipitation

Ok, I am from the south. I grew up in a place where it snowed one time in EIGHTEEN YEARS, and we were all running around thinking we were going to die, because oh my god there was a WHOLE INCH of snow on the ground. White Christmas? Try 75 and sunny Christmas. Needless to say, I will never, EVER get used to this whole “snow” thing. And I want all ya’ll yankee types to know, that they DO NOT TEACH PEOPLE LIKE ME HOW TO DRIVE IN THE SNOW. So, let me loose when it’s been snowing for about an hour or two and may god have mercy on your souls. And mine. For real. As a southerner, there is no freakier feeling on this earth than when the back end of your car starts going in a direction other than where the front end is pointing. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ABOUT??? And since there is no snow down south, my driver’s ed course did not include a chapter on “steering into the spinout” or whatever the heck you want to call it. (steering into the arms of the devil if you ask me!!) Telling a person from the south not to panic and slam on the brakes when their car starts fishtailing in the snow is like telling a fish not to live in the water! IT’S WHAT WE DO. So OF COURSE today I have a doctor’s appointment that requires me taking the car and OF COURSE it’s snowing cause nothing can ever be easy for me. And listen up, ya’ll might have won that stupid war, but that does not give you the right to fly by me on the interstate going 95 miles an hour in the snow and honking your horn at me – if I want to drive 35 flippin miles an hour, dammit, no one is going to stop me. I’M BEING CAUTIOUS. This may be something you want to look into, JACKASSES. Cause every year, without fail, there are like ten million pileups on the road every single snow day because all ya’ll think you can drive in the snow, like you do not need snow tires or windshield wipers or the fact that there is 4 inches of icy slush on the ground will not impede YOUR driving…and what do you know, you start sliding around like Disney on ice and you want to know WHY. I will tell you why, crazy northern people. CAUSE IT’S SNOWING. And don’t give me the “oh, you people drive slow and tap your brakes and you cause accidents too” crap, because this stuff falling out of the sky is not normal and NO ONE should know how to maneuver around in all this treachosity. I am not driving slow. I am taking my time. I am not tapping my brakes. I want to make sure they still work and are not frozen like everything else around me. So. Maybe if you all would just acknowledge that the sky if falling and you should maybe slow down and proceed with caution, we wouldn’t all be in this big fat mess to begin with.

literally, one in a million

i’ve made no secret of the fact that i am not all that in to politics. i mean, i got out and i waited in line for over an hour and a half to vote, and i watched the debates and all that, but i generally don’t know all that much about what is going on in the world, so i tend to zip my lips whenever conversations turn political (and knowing my girlfriends, that doesn’t happen all that often, since most of our chatting is dominated by whatever stupid celebrity is doing whatever stupid thing at the moment). but since i live less than 2 miles from the national mall, i decided to be a part of history and hoof it down to the inaugural concert at the lincoln memorial, and then again to the swearing in on the 20th. a few weeks back, there was a lot of talk about how 5 million plus people would descend on dc and take over the metro systems and the roads and we would all be helpless to do anything or go anywhere, but in reality…it was not all that bad. don’t get me wrong, there were A LOT of people there. maybe it was the mood in the air, though, that made it seem like not all that big of a deal to be shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of strange people…because even the newspapers are reporting not one single arrest yesterday, in a crowd of 1.5 million people. we started the weekend off by attending the “other” green ball at the mellon auditorium, which was my second inaugural ball (hey, i didn’t vote for bush, but i will sure as hell take a free ticket to any event that advertises an open bar!!!), but the first one i went to with my husband. going with the renewable theme of the evening, erik donned a tie he made himself out of recycled paper (and of course, it was green!), and i called my momma up and she let me borrow the gorgeous gown she wore back in 1981 to ronald raegan’s inaugural ball. we had such a great time, it was a really fun party, my sister was there, my cousin hillary (not bad for only her second week in dc – we have to keep reminding her that dc is not like this all the time!), and a handful of my girlfriends and their dates, so even after a full day of moving from one apartment to another, it was for sure, a memorable night. sunday we managed to get up and get to the mall for the inaugural concert, even though we briefly entertained the idea of watching in on tv, after having been out until 3 in the morning (woohoooo i am NOT OLD, cause old people don’t stay out that late!!!) the night before. i’m so glad we trekked down to the mall, though, it was an amazing event and to be a part of that crowd that was so full of energy and excitement was really incredible. even watching it again on tv the next day, i was still amazed that i had been a part of that crowd. if you didn’t go, and if you couldn’t tell on tv, every time obama was shown on the jumbotron screens, the entire crowd went nuts. from where we were, i couldn’t even see the lincoln memorial, and i could only see the jumbotron by standing on my toes (man were my calves aching on monday!), but i didn’t need to see it – you could totally feel the buzz just by being there. and i could hear it, so that was enough. seeing the crowds on tv, though, when garth brooks had everyone jumping up and down to “shout” – that was nuts. 750,000 people dancing and singing in unison. kind of makes you feel just a teensy bit better about mankind.

tuesday was a mad house down on the mall – but not the same way that something like mardi gras or the superbowl are madhouses. the streets were swarming with people, we were practically pushed down the street at one point just on the movement of the crowd, but there was no one complaining, no one being aggressive or yelling, everyone just happy to be there and excited about what was happening. we finally got a place just underneath the washington monument and of course, people who are only 5’3” cannot see over 500,000 people that happen to be in front of them, so again, i couldn’t see a damn thing, but i could hear the swearing in and i could hear the inauguration address, and i could hear what people on tv couldn’t hear, which was people around me crying, laughing, chanting obama’s name (even booing bush, which i thought was unnecessary and mean spirited), and just celebrating. there i was, underneath the monument to the father or our country, celebrating with literally a million other people, and i stopped just long enough to think, damn…this is pretty cool. erik even put me up on his shoulders (briefly…i don’t exactly weigh 98 pounds) so i could get a glimpse of obama on the big screen. what a truly amazing day. i didn’t even mind the cold, or the walk home, or not being able to see. i am so glad i didn’t miss out on any of that. i doubt i will ever witness anything like that again. so. for all the times i complain about living in dc or how much tourists annoy me, or the traffic, or the expense...there are times like this that balance it all out and make me think that living in our nation’s capital is pretty effing cool.

screw you, walter raleigh

ok, so one thing about living in virginia that really REALLY blows is that you can still smoke in most of the bars and restaurants. you would think that as a former smoker, this would not bother me all that much, but i'm finding that the older i get, the less tolerant i am of the person next to me blowing smoke in my direction. well, i say former smoker, but seriously, it took me all of 2 minutes to quit and i think i really only started it up in the first place as a means to have an excuse to "go out back" for 5 minutes when i was waiting tables. i was never a pack a day kind of smoker, i rarely smoked before noon, and once i started dating my husband, i was pretty much just done with the whole thing (meaning he smokes SO MUCH that i figured one of us had to stop). i'm really looking forward to moving back into dc anyway, but it is just icing on my cake (and since i really only like cake for the icing, i'll just say it's icing on my icing) that dc has a ban on smoking inside, which means i can go out for drinks and not come home smelling like i've been rolling around in an ashtray. what i'm getting at here is that i was out in virginia last night, to a bar that i HATE because it is FULL of people smoking in my face, and despite the fact that i only had three drinks, i woke up with a splitting headache, feeling like i'd smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. i mean...it's 2009. we KNOW that smoking kills you. we KNOW second hand smoke is just as bad. now i'm reading that there is such a thing as THIRD HAND smoke. great, so now it's like the freakin residue from the cigarette you smoked in a room 2 hours ago is infiltrating my otherwise squeaky clean lungs and will slowly kill me. excellent. it seemed to me that just about every single person in that bar last night was smoking. do they not know? did they not get the memo?? perhaps the surgeon general's warning is not clear enough?? in europe, the warning label on the side is simple and to the point: SMOKERS DIE. that's what it says. in bold letters. maybe the letters on american smokes are too small?? i do not get it. i'm not seeing it. i know about addiction and nicotine and blah blah blah, but i guess i was never really addicted so i just don't understand why people are still smoking or why they can't quit. hello, YOU STINK!!! and seriously, i choose not to smoke and i do not see how people who do choose to smoke are allowed to do it right next to me, because THAT IS GROSS. as someone who is married to a full time, professional, record-holding, award-winning smoker, one would think that i would be more slack about this. but i HATE the fact that my husband smokes. I HATE IT. it grosses me out and if he would only wise up and drop that FILTHY habit, he might be surprised at how much more making out would occur. i do not, for one second, give a rat's rear end about a "smoker's rights" to light up wherever they want. you want to kill yourself? fine. DO IT OUTSIDE. i'll be inside with all the other people who want to live.

phobic much?

i will admit to having my fair share of phobias. i am unjustifiably afraid of mannequins (which also carries over into those crazy automated people – like in the hall of president’s at disney world) and mimes, i cannot stand the sight of jellyfish, and hell, i’m even a little creeped out by the dark. i am petrified of flying and have recently started this awesome thing where i cry pretty much any time i am on a plane. as i mentioned in a previous blog, i am also deathly afraid of anything that i can fall off of – ladders, fire escapes, rooftops –although i’m not afraid of enclosed heights. go figure. but that one i think may come from a lifetime of falling off of/out of stuff, like treehouses and cheerleading pyramids (they were supposed to catch me!!). so i mean sometimes it’s even hard for me to keep track of all of my numerous phobias. what i don’t get is the obvious ones. like germ phobia. i’ve made it this long without contracting any nasty gas station disease or growing like an extra toe or something from overexposure to germs in the showers at the gym, so in all honesty, i’m really not worried about it. i wash my hands when i need to. and it’s not like i’m going to shake someone’s hand right after i watch them sneeze into it. but i don’t get people who flip out and feel the need to disinfect every possible germ breeding surface area, carry hand sanitizer in their pockets so they can “wash” them 97 times a day, and refuse to come in contact with any person who is even thinking about carrying some illness causing germ around. getting sick is not a big deal. being killed by some creepy ass fake person in a department store is. those things have EYES, people, they can probably see into our SOULS!! i guess i shouldn’t scoff at some people’s fears when i list among my own things like “michael jackson is hiding under my bed” or “captain crunch is laying in wait to turn me into a soggy” but i can’t help it. i work with germaphobes and it’s especially hard during flu season to deal with being banned from the office for a simple sneeze (i kid you not, i was sent home for sneezing), or being instructed to disinfect the doorknobs in my office 3 times a day. WE ALL HAVE GERMS. get over it. don’t lick the pole on the metro and i think you’ll be just fine. you should seriously spend more time fearing those monster aliens that have come to earth in the form of mannequins to wipe out mankind and take over the planet.

a pointless list of my very own!

so, it’s monday. and monday is always a great time to start over, wipe the slate clean, and organize your life. all those self-help books say you have to visualize what you want and then make it happen, so i figure that making a list is a good way to do that. and since my sister does not get to own making up pointless lists that serve no real purposes inside the realm of what i like to call “reality,” i figured it’s about time for me to make up a stupid list of my own. but instead of naming all 97 of my children (and by the way, niki, i think it’s creepy that you even want that many children or that you would even aspire to come up with that many ridiculous names), i decided i want to make a list of all the things that i want to come back as in my next life. because maybe if the karma gods are listening, i can visualize my way into becoming everything i’ve ever wanted to be. so here i go:
1. an architect – cause i’m not smart enough for that in this life
2. a race car driver
3. not that i condone the captivity of them, but it would be so awesome to be one of those people at sea world who gets to swim with the killer whales
4. an archeologist – cause i got a huge kick out of digging around in my backyard as a kid and i think i would make a really great indiana jones
5. an aerial acrobat in cirque du solieil (or basically anyone who wasn’t afraid of anything they could fall off of, which is the state of my current life)
6. a dog – cause my dog has a pretty cushy life. but i wouldn’t want to be one of those small lap dogs that yip all the time. i want to be a big ol lazy ass dog that lies in the sun all day and drools up a storm. and snores. i’d want to snore really loud.
7. an art restorer. apparently you have to know a lot about science and chemistry and i just don’t have the brain for that in this life, but when i was in italy a few summers back i saw all these girls in overalls up on scaffolding (see list item#5) chatting in italian while they worked on frescos that were like 500 years old and i thought, damn, what an awesome job. i always have a hard time keeping my hands to myself in museums, so i think it would really satisfy a serious craving for me to be able to put my hands on all that stuff
a. if this should ever actually happen, i will also need to come back as someone who can speak italian. or maybe just be bilingual in general.
b. also, it takes a certain body type to pull off overalls and still look cute, so i’ll need to come back as a very teeny (but still bosomy) lady
8. someone with any kind of musical talent. if i could play the cello, or maybe the piano, i think that would make me a whole lot cooler in one of my next lives. also, if i could ever get to the point where i could play magic man by heart on the guitar, i just might rock my way into nirvana
9. a celebrity – but one of the cool ones who is very rarely in the tabloids, but is constantly going to places like bora bora or dubai because they have boatloads of money. if i were celebrity rich, i’d keep one house (with a normal amount of bedrooms, like 3), i would finally get my fully restored 1979 pontiac firebird transam, i would travel a whole lot, and i would give the rest to charity. cause nobody needs 5 cars, $1500 purses, or a $750,000 movie theatre in their house that no one ever uses
10. and finally, in one of my next lives, I think it would be pretty sweet to come back as one of those badass roller derby chicks with all the tattoos and a really awesome haircut. My mom made me promise never to get a tattoo (although I’m seriously considering revoking that promise cause I think I might really want one), so maybe in my next life I should be covered with them. But maybe not the whole roller derby thing. I don’t like being bruised. I am a big wimp. So maybe I’ll just go with the tats and the hair and leave it at that.

random friday thoughts

dear adam sandler- i finally forgive you for that jackhole zohan movie. i had sworn you off (if you will recall in a previous blog that i believe is buried somewhere on myspace), but i saw bedtime stories not long ago and decided to come around, and turn the other cheek. so. you're off the hook. make another shiteous movie, though...and we will be done for good. enjoy my good graces while you have them.

dear inconsiderate asshole with a driver's liscense- i am still mad that you plowed through that puddle on wednesday morning, doing at least 45 miles an hour, and sending a shower of disgusting, stagnant rainwater all over me and my sister on our way to work. i dont' know, maybe you were busy talking on the phone or shaving or trying to figure out why your friends don't return your calls, but it is beyond me how you could spray water that high into the air (and that much onto innocent pedestrians who do not have the luxury of sitting in their nice warm, dry suvs on the way to work) and not even tap the brakes, indicating that your head is so far up your ass, that you clearly did not even notice that you had just soaked 2 people. so thank you. thanks for reminding me that humanity is on its way out. i hope YOUR day was pleasant. jerk.

dear craigslist furniture buying crazy people - yes, it's true, i'm trying to sell some furniture before i move. i posted a few things and if you ask me, buying furniture that's less than a year old for half of the MRP sounds like a damn good deal to me. but to all of you with your insane and nit picky questions about what brand my bed frame is or what exact shade of brown the wood is, let me tell you a little something: this is not amazon.com, or a department store where you can come in, look around, and decide not to buy. you are knowingly looking to purchase USED furniture. i'm sorry that shade of brown is not EXACTLY what you're looking for. i would advice you to get thyself to some overpriced furniture warehouse and scope out some new shit if you're going to be all that particular about mine. and do not insult me by offering me less than half of what i'm asking. i know there's a recession, but that doesn't mean i'm giving my shit away for free.

dear diet coke- i know i am a married woman and all, but i think i'm in love with you. i just wanted to throw that out there.

dear me - i think we are getting old because the other night i had a great idea for a really funny blog and now i cannot for the life of me remember what it was about. perhaps it's time for a multi-vitamin?

on the death of civility

If there was a word for being a semi-feminist, I would suppose that is how I would describe myself. I am all for equal pay for equal work, I believe a woman can do anything a man can do (and probably do it smarter, more efficiently, and for less money), and the whole notion of “barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen” sends chills up and down my spine. On the flip side, there are times when I want to pull my hair out and scream to the high heavens, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO CHIVALRY AND COMMON COURTESY??? It was not that long ago, that a man would give up his seat on the bus to a woman who had to stand. NOT SO MUCH ANYMORE. There are times that I have given up my seat to an elderly woman or even an elderly man because not ONE of the self-absorbed mannerless grunts around me even thought to themselves, hey, maybe I should get up and let this person have my seat. No, no, this idea is old hat it would seem. And speaking of hats, how come men don’t wear those anymore? I mean a real hat, like a derby or a fedora, not one of those stupid knit skull caps that make you look like you’re about to rob a convenience store or a baseball hat. I mean, I would like to have a man tip his hat to me. Is that so wrong?? While I’m on my rampage, I would also like to know what happened to holding the door open for a lady. I can’t tell you how many times some schmuck has breezed through the door in front of me and let it slam back in my face because he can’t be bothered to see if there’s another human being exiting behind him. I do not get these women who say opening the door for a woman is sexist. Yes, I know I can do it myself. The idea is that I’M A LADY, see, so maybe I DON’T WANT TO DO IT MYSELF. My hands are delicate, you know? Men with manners. This is a rare species, a dying breed. There is actually a guy who works on my floor, and don’t you know that every time I walk into his office, HE STANDS UP. For real. He stands up. REMEMBER WHEN MEN USED TO DO THAT? No? I don’t either. Those were the days when women wore gloves and dressing gowns and men had those nifty pocket watches. But just the idea of it makes me buckle a little at the knees. Even my own husband has blown past me numerous times to get in a cab before me or he’ll walk through the door without thinking and let it close behind him. I keep threatening to send him to finishing school. I mean, can’t I demand equal rights except that you have to hold the door open for me? Can’t I say I could be president too, but you must pull my chair out for me at every chance? Is this asking for too much? Is it a generational thing, that manners are just going to be nonexistent by the time my children have children? Listening to kids talk to adults now just makes me want to slap their little smug faces, with their “yeah” and “uh huh” and “no” and I have to bite my tounge to keep from saying “YOU MEAN YES MA’AM??” cause that is the way I was raised. Yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you, ma’am, please. Seriously, this was a song my grandma made up that my sister and I have engrained into our subconscious. My momma would’ve slapped me to Sunday if she ever heard me say “yeah” to a grownup. It’s just sad. I miss manners. Come on, guys. Would it kill you to give up your seat for a LADY? Of course, most women in my age bracket are not so much behaving like ladies anymore, but we won’t go into that…