Always a drunk, never a bride...

I'm already over the election

2012-01-27T09:41:00.000-05:00

I am a politics nerd. Always have been, always will be. I read that section first in the New York Times. I follow more political blogs than DC ones. I'm that annoying friend who posts shit on facebook (and then declines to respond when shit gets ugly). When asked if I'd rather attend a music festival or political convention, I chose political convention.

And yes, I included a Republican one in that.

So you'd THINK that I'd love what's going on right now. The Republican primary! Debates! The Daily Show! So many opps to not only be a snarky bitch, but be one aBOUT my favorite topics! However, the truth of the matter is?

I want this shit to end.

This election has already become a complete farce, evidenced by the fact that Newt Gingrich is now the most viable candidate in a string of "anyone-but-Romney"s. I swear, if Americans actually elected a President Gingrich, I actually would leave. And I love the United States. But while re-electing President Bush (numero dos) was a blow to my sense that I'm connected to this country by more than blood, Gingrich being elected would honestly lead me to feel as though I should renounce my citizenship.

(Sidenote: see! I LOVE hyperbole! You'd think I'd be allll about this!!)

So while I do not think in any way that that will happen, at all - Romney will be the candidate by March I'm positive, if not sooner, and we will be battening down the hatches for the ugliest summer of not real issues (zomg, I toooooooootally didn't mean that to become national law when I passed healthcare reform. Zomg, yes you did. No I didn't. Did too. DID NOT. DID TOO INFINITY TIMES A GABILLION. Oh I see what you did there, playing the race card. Wha huh? SECRET MUSLIM SOCIALIST FASCIST TERRORIST) by June - I just don't feel up to what's coming next.

Uh, that "paragraph"? Was all one sentence. Out of control.

The truth of the matter is we live in a country that could be great, but that currently is dangerously close to becoming an oligarchy. We have REAL people with REAL problems, but we're going to watch everyone bitch slap the others and then spew venom in the general direction of President Obama. Don't get me wrong, I'm prObama, but he's not left out of my general disdain. This has already turned into the Kardashian version of a real election, and we're not even on the approach to November.

And I'm not a fan of fucking "reality" TV.

So I'd like to be counted out. Let's make a New York Times homepage for those of us who don't fucking want to be updated on who-said-more-outrageous-shit-today difference between a flip flopping mess of a hair helmut and a guy who, if we wanted to actually deal with hunger in this country, should have to donate money from his Tiffany's account every time he says "food stamp president."

Don't even get me STARTED on Santorum.

Who's with me?

Chris Christie Sucks

2012-01-24T18:26:00.000-05:00

This is just disgusting. For those of you who can't watch the video, the GOVERNOR of NEW JERSEY (a state with 51.3% women) said in response to protestors chanting "Christie kills jobs":

Something's going down tonight, but it ain't going to be jobs, sweetheart.

HAPPY new year!

2012-01-23T09:27:00.000-05:00

So.

Anyone who has ever met me for anything (including first dates and job interviews - whoops.) knows that I have an on-time problem. Despite pretending I don't care, this is the one thing (ok. The most important of a few things) I would like to change about myself. And yet, as 2011 clicked to 2012 and I had an actual, attainable list of things to accomplish, upon which "being on time more often" would clearly be if it was written down, (as would reducing the amount of commas I use) I kept putting it off.

Shocking.

However, the convergence of several things has made me realize that, much like showing up 20 minutes late to that first date where apparently I JUST missed the ex-gf of the guy I was meeting, being late can be fortuitous. For example, there are only 8 days of January left for me to start my goals. That's an awfully short time (even for me) to give up on them! January 2012 - check!

Also, it's the first day of the Chinese Year of the Dragon today, which is fun! I don't know much about the Chinese Zodiac, but I do know that dragons are cool. I mean, dragons! Like in Harry Potter! So that's a good sign.

Also, now that my race is over (WE WON if by winning you mean had an awesome time, still all want to be friends with each other, and plan to continue to do Ragnars), I don't need to fuel up on carbs constantly, which helps the weight thing. And now that I have a nice normal work schedule because I wasn't laid off (at the lastest of the last minutes. You guys should be really happy I haven't been blogging yet in 2012, it was UGLY) I don't need diet coke to wake me up or keep me awake or mix with any alcohol at all to forget that the company I hate(d) is getting rid of ME.

Sigh. Seriously. So ugly.

And it finally snowed, and that makes me feel like things are new. And I'm liking what I do during the day AND think I'm actually quite good at it which makes me more inclined to accept compliments. And I just got back from New Jersey (again) so it feels like it was just the holiday.

Do I sound like I'm justifying to anyone else?

The point is, even though I'm late this year - as per usual - happy effing new year guys. May it come in like a dragon and go out like a lamb. Or something like that. I'll be back tomorrow with some snark I'm sure, but belatedly, merry merry 2012.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

2012-01-16T09:00:00.000-05:00

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

My Best Friends' Wedding

2011-12-31T14:45:00.003-05:00

2011 truly was the MA Year of the Wedding, and if anyone needed additional proof in the strictures of my life, my ornament this year (which is pretty much the definitive "last word" pour moi. Ornaments are a Big Effing Deal in my family/life) was a bridesmaid dress.

No joke.

So to bring my year to an end it only seems appropriate to finish with a wedding recap. And this one? This one is amazing.

11 in "11" - FINAL Wedding Recap!

Who: my best friends (YES! friendS!!) Dan and Anna, who met when we were all RAs in college. As it happens, that's also when WE (as in, me and the groom, AND me and the bride) met. Dan and I were head RAs together, and Anna was sort of also a head, but on the housing side (it's true, A). Anyway, we were a threesome subset of a particularly active group of 6-8 RAs (of the 49 total) before they were a twosome, and I may or may not (ie I totes DID!) have had a role in them getting together.
What: Interfaith/secular/spiritual ceremony and reception at the Newseum
Where: Washington, DC
When: October 2011
Why: this is a ridiculous question regarding weddings (I know I set this shit up whatever I'm allowed to be annoyed at March-me who thought it would be cool to have all the Qs). But ok, fine. Why? Because these two have been my friends forever. Because I played an inadvertent (and advertent, which isn't a word, but should be) in their getting together. Because I remember them before they were a Them and think they're better the way they are now. Because I ended up being the best woman (or best groomsmaid, or awesomest groomsgirl, depending on who you were asking). Because they're my motherfucking FAMILY goddamnit, even if not by blood (cause you know, if it were, they shouldn't really have gotten married).
How: the 42. Yes, WMATA. Because it was easy and because I was in a particularly poor place in life and also, it gets me pretty fucking close to home. Although I still regret my decision to take it AFTER the reception, when I passed out on the bus and found myself being poked by a lovely, concerned WMATA driver on Mt. Pleasant Ave.
Drink(s) of choice: huh. How bad is it that I don't remember, specifically. It was champagne of course (because it always is with me) but I'm totally alarmed that I don't remember getting it a lot. Someone must have brought it to me. OH YES! THAT'S RIGHT!! There was an amazing, enabling waitress who was dedicated to our table and since the groom and bride were off saying hi to everyone the waitress and I became besties and she brought me lots and lots of bubbly. Whew! Also, I had a beer at the end of the night. I'm not sure why. But I'm blaming IT for the falling-asleep-on-the-bus-ness.
Highlight: Huh. Hard to elucidate.

Let me start by saying that, for all my crying at movies and commercials and shit like that, I don't really cry at weddings. I know, it's shocking. But even more shocking is how MUCH I cried at this one.

Are ya with me? Wondering how this is a highlight? Well right.

Anyway, right before we all walked out, I was hugging all of the bridal party (and this was BEFORE I started drinking the champagne) and wishing everyone luck, and I had just kissed Dan on the cheek when I approached Anna. And suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a memory of the two of us sitting in her darkened dorm room and her being like "so. I think I like Dan" and me responding "good I think he likes you too, let's make that happen."

And I started to weep.

I didn't REALLY stop, although I guess I paused at points, but as the entire ceremony was one big celebration of two of my closest friends in the WORLD, it felt very personal/intimate to me. At some point, the celebrant was talking about when Anna realized she liked Dan more than just RA-buddies, and she mentioned him being such an amazing support person to a mutual friend (ME!!) and Anna looked over at me, smiled, and I was wrecked. Truly wrecked.

It was amazing.

Some incredibly close people to me got married this year (I don't think I need to name them, although if you want to remember just look back, damnit) and for each of them it was an incredibly special experience. Watching your baby brother, or the very first person who became your urban family marry the person they love love LOVE will always be so special, there are no words for it.

But?

Watching TWO people who you have known forever, who have seen you at your ab-best, and more importantly, at your ugliest (I mean really ugliest. Not just the big D, but the worst, dark twisty parts of my life, and the ones I'm not just not proud of, but will never, ever forgive myself for, etc) and still love you for who you are, who will sit there and counsel you day after day after day of saying the exact same shit about boys and jobs and boys and jobs, and your by-blood-family, and your other friends, and your roles and responsibilities and your fucking ridic drama, and call you out on it sure but also just fucking BE there, because they are your PEOPLE, get married to EACH OTHER?

Well. I don't think I'll ever see it happen again, because this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, that starting from that moment when I started to cry, the entire. Fucking. Thing? was the highlight.
Lowlight: I had a short-lived but very real panic attack when I was left with the rings. Do you know how expensive those things are? I don't, but I knew I had more money on my thumb (I'm a girl, I don't have a pocket to hold them in) than I do in my ENTIRE APARTMENT (ish). I completely panicked, the bride's mother forced me to eat something and then the bride's grandmother patted my hand until I felt better. Then I watched American Pie with the groomsmen while airing out my dress' sweat stains from when I flipped. It was actually very effective, although certainly not my proudest moment.
Music grade: A+++++ holy crap this DJ was awesome. First of all, he tolerated me. As I was probably drunker than I had been at... any of the other 2011 weddings? that in and of itself deserves a A+. But he also played Boyz II Men, and the song I decided was "our" - as in Dan/Anna/my - theme song of 2011 (Give Me Tonight in case you were wondering) and was incredibly responsive and the dance floor was packed all night. And THEN!

And then.

Remember when at my brother/Alexis' wedding the DJ played Scenes from an Italian Restaurant and my sibs, then Alexis, got up and danced/sang/performed for everyone? You don't? Well I do, and it was amazing. So amazing I didn't think anything could ever top it.

Which this didn't, but it came fucking close.

This DJ put on Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light, which is a TERRIBLE yet AMAZING song. Seriously, I'm obsessed against my mother's will. I don't know what makes it sooooooo good, except it tells a story (like Scenes from an Italian Restaurant), it's long (also like SfaIR), there are distinctly different parts of the song (see: SfaIR), and... yeah. No I mean I'm not capturing it well, but I love it. And APPARENTLY Anna's dad's family rocks that shit like my family rocks the Billy Joel.

Read: hard.

They were dancing and singing and back and forthing like nobody's business. It was amazing to watch. It was amazing to try to be a part of. And the DJ let the song run long, and thus he was good.

Lessons learned:

Drunkenly suggesting that you should make out with the bride's brother will make its way through the gossip chain to the bride's mother in the sober light of day. You will be horrified. Your friends (all of them) will say - "again?! MA! You have a problem."
Bossing around the bride, groom, bride's father, groom's mother, anyone remotely related to them and within arm's reach will not make you popular. However, if you're doing it for the right reasons (ie, dancing) they will forgive you. I think.
The drivers of the 42 are lovely people.
Gerber daisy petals... go everywhere. Especially when you hit people over and over with your bouquet. Ehem. Still finding them in my hallway.
In all seriousness, write notes to your bridal party. As a groomsmaid/girl/best woman (as it were), I got a note from Dan of course, but Anna also wrote me one. And I cried. A lot. Did I mention that? But honestly, and embarrassingly, I kept those notes with me (like on my person) for the whole week. And they are still in my drawer where I keep things I need to access quickly. It's only been two months, sure, but I'm pretty sure I will cherish those things forever.

And that was 2011 - happy new year! Am I relieved the year of the wedding (tm) is over? Yes. But I'm also sad it has to end. Luckily, there are just a few short months until #weddingseason2012 begins!

2011: bring on 2012!

2011-12-30T23:16:00.000-05:00

I don't know about all y'all, but I'm SO fucking over 2011. It has been a truly crap year. To be fair, it's been an amazing year, too, when I think about it. But all the good things (my brother and best friends getting married, new relationships, new breakthroughs on the self-realization/actualization/appreciation front) will still be true in 2012, while all that shit that happened this past year (job crap, mostly, but also other just ridiculously fucking awful things, like deaths and exes and sadness) will so soon be left in my dust.

This is already more serious than I intended. Let's change that!

I guess my point is, with 2012 comes a new year, and new chances, and new new new. I know I sound a little like a hypocrite, because usually I think it's effing stupid that we celebrate this arbitrary change of dates. But for some reason, I'm all about it this year, and I'm pretty sure it's just because I need to take a step away from life that is imposed by a third party.

That third party is, um, "the world"? Except China? And maybe the Chosen People?

Anyway, last year I made resolutions on January 2, and I don't remember what they were but I'm sure I completed them. Or didn't. Who cares? I have new ones, and if I start on Sunday, the chances of obtaining them are very, very low. So I'm starting them in the shitastic year that is 2011 in the hopes that that means I'll actually meet them!

Meet? Obtain? Resolve? Whatever the verb is.

And here they are:

Get down to 1 can of Diet Coke a day. It's bad for me. I'm addicted. I'm giving myself a good 10 months to get to the point when I only need a can a day, and even then, "need" shouldn't be used.
Stop saying "are you just saying that?" when someone pays me a compliment. This is so fucking insecure, and I'm OVER being insecure. When someone tells me they love my new haircut, or my Christmas present, or my wedding toast, or think I'm funny/smart/witty/impressive/mature I resolve to just say "thank you". Or pull an Ingrid-as-Ilsa and say "you're too kind". Or something in between. Not ask them if they're sure.
Similarly, only not, stop saying "I believe you". This is a new one, and I'm 100% positive it sounds like I actually DON'T believe the person - when I DO! Let's break the cycle before it becomes like "dude" in 2005.
Brush my teeth on nights I get home wasted. I wish I could say that in 2012 I wouldn't be drunk anymore, but that's just asking for failure. I like alcohol. I REALLY like being social. And social + alcohol = me being drunk. In any case, I've gotten really good about making sure to brush my teeth 2X a day in the past few months, which makes me feel like an adult. But I've noticed (slash it's been pointed out to me) that I definitely do not ever on nights that probably are more necessary than others, ie, when I've been drinking. So ima try to fix that.
Write more letters. I miss it.

Alright that's definitely enough for the year, doncha think? One more post until 2012 peoples! Appropriately, it is (finally) my last wedding recap for the year!!! GET EXCITED!!! You are? Are you just saying that?

Shit.

Best part of NYE 2011?

2011-12-29T22:36:00.002-05:00

back tomorrow (friday) to start wrapping up 2011, but for now - zoh. em. gee.

Yes, Virginia...

2011-12-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

From the September 21, 1897 edition of the New York Sun (not to be confused with the current NYS, whose editorial board is utter crap, versus the paper that previously competed with the New York Times)

We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

Dear Editor—
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon115 West Ninety Fifth Street

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.

We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! He lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!

20 Christmas (related) Movies to Warm Your Ebeneezer "Grinch" Potter Heart

2011-12-22T14:09:00.006-05:00

I've been plowing through Christmas-themed (or set at Christmas, I guess) movies like WHOA this year. Whether it's been because of my holiday-induced sadness affect disorderly conduct, or because I have nothing to do (at all) at work, or just cause HELLO - when else do you get to watch Miracle on 34th Street ad nauseum? - I have watched an unprecedented amount of fabulous films.

However.

When you're burning through them at the rate of a yule log (awwww snap) it's hard to come up with new ideas, so I turned to the interwebs. Yet - for the first time, evaaar? - the google let me down. There were loads of lists of Christmas movies with like, Gremlins on them, and Die Hard, or Bad Santa. I'm not saying there aren't merits to those sorts of film (well... mostly I'm not saying that) but I was looking for movies that make one happy and joyful and able to write holiday cards that don't depress your friends as much as you did a week ago by writing a blog post.

Ehem. Hypothetically.

Anyway, so I decided to use my time for you, dear interwebs, to research holiday-related movies that give you a warm feeling. Ok, I mean I guess I told you I was watching them anyway, hm? Gave it away a bit? Well whatever let's pretend that I'm just incredibly generous! It's Christmastime! With that I present to you the 20 Christmas movies to warm your heart and counteract the dreary wintery nights of the shortest days of the year, even though it's 60 degrees outside but you're right, climate change isn't real. Or maybe just 20 WONDERFUL Christmas movies, as per MA:

(20) The Santa Clause - don't judge me. The fact that it came out when I was still a kid probably helps, but c'mon now - c'est AWESOME. Tim Allen shaving and then the beard growing back immediately? Who doesn't love that sort of shit pre-massive CGI-azation? Really, the whole divorced-dad-gets-close-to-son thing melts the ice around my heart (or some shit like that) - Christmas time is for family! And for giggling at Tim Allen's belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly.
(19) Yes, Virginia - this is a funny little movie I wouldn't have seen if it weren't for Netflix instaplay (that's for you Gracie, if you read this, because I know it will drive you NUTS). For regular readers it probably comes as no surprise that I love the Yes, Virginia editorial from the New York Sun because I post it every year on Christmas day (and will again on Sunday). This is an animated version of the story that has Neil Patrick Harris as the voice of the father, and Alfred Molina as the voice of the jaded-but-redeemed editor of the Sun. Redemption stories! Childlike belief in Christmas! It's legen... (wait for it)... well not really but ok it's just lovely.
(18) Family Stone - this movie is DEPRESSING. But I like that shit? Crying at movies makes me happy? Whatever I'm not weird. The story is about coming together as a family at Christmas time, which is like the oldest theme in the book but I don't care, it's cliche cause it WORKS. Ignore the weird switcheroo of the girlfriends, and focus on Rachel McAdams, Diane Keaton, the deaf/gay brother played by Ty Giordano, and the oldest sister (YAY) played by that girl from Grey's who Karev loved and needed a new face. Family + tears FTW!
(17) Meet Me In St. Louis - this movie is all around awesome, but let's be honest. It's not really a Christmas movie per se - it's a full year (I think?) of life in a St. Louis family. However, Judy Garland singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" is one of the most moving pieces of musical cinema, ever, and when I hear that song I think of her, and of holidays tinged with sadness, and how next year all our troubles WILL be out of sight if through the years we all can be together.
(16) The Holiday - it's sweet. Kate Winslet learns gumption! Jack Black writes music! Dustin Hoffmanikkah makes a funny cameo! And Jude Law is HAWT. Plus those two little precious girls with their little precious accents and their little precious tent?? So sweet. I love the end scene when all six of them are like one happy family in London, although I would prefer it if Arthur had flown out with them to be their urban granddaddy.
(15) Sleepless in Seattle - this movie starts (for real) at Christmas, and while it ends later in the year, I will always think of it as a holiday movie. The Christmas after his wife dies (I think?), Tom Hanks pours his heart over the radio waves, and Meg Ryan hears and thinks that that's what she's missing with Bill Pullman (who is redeemed later on this list, no worries). Sure, it's top of the Empire State building on Valentine's Day, but it's also about re-making a family after sadness, and love, and singing about horses horses horses horses.
(14) You've Got Mail - again, not a Christmas movie really, but the fact that I just see this as a continuation of Sleepless in Seattle (and clearly so do they - Somewhere Over the Rainbow as a theme song, anybody?), plus Meg Ryan quotes Joni Mitchell's River in this movie, are reasons enough to have it on the list. Bonus! The scene of Meg Ryan's urban family singing Christmas carols around the piano is something I wanna replicate so badly. Who has friends who sing carols? Call me!
(13) Elf - look, I'm the first to admit that I was a jackass about this movie, because of judgment (shown above) about movies that try to be about Christmas but end up going for cheap thrills and laughs. There were years when I refused to watch it because I thought it was going to be fart jokes and shittiness. I was wrong. This movie is great! Zooey Deschanel is awesome, Will Ferrell does guileless child incredibly well (and not in a frat boy way at ALL), and you know. Family coming together. Plus, any movie that ends with spontaneous singing is pretty much amazing, and ZD is a ridiculously talented singer. Watch it.
(12) The Muppet Christmas Carol - if you've read nearly any bit of this blog, ever, you already know I love the Muppets. But this version is FABULOUS even without my bias. Gonzo and Rizzo are our narrators, and they hew incredibly closely (like, verbatim for the most part) to Dickens' tale. Michael Caine does a great job as Scrooge, scaring the crap out of me even (despite the fact that I know he's hello, the gay fabulous softie who makes over Sandra Bullock (see next movie!!) in Miss Congeniality). When he is all redeemed after meeting with the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come ("I'm a large absent-minded spirit!"), everyone's thrilled. And Kermit is Kermit, and Piggy is Piggy. Plus, the Muppets sing! I LOVE SINGING.
(11) While You Were Sleeping - This movie starts on Christmas (pretty much) and shows the importance of family, and also sort of the meaning of family, at this time of year. In that I mean your family is what you make of it, not just the people to whom you are blood related, and it's important to have those people you love around you. Look, I'm doing a bad job, the movie is AMAZING, Bill Pullman is my ideal man, and it takes place in CHICAGO. Go rent/stream it.
(10) Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - original claymation (right?) version! So good, although as I recently had a conversation with someone (Ramona? Right?) about the little elf who wants to be a dentist - it can come off a little creepy. But I love Rudolph, and I love a story about being true to oneself, and the island of misfit toys is just a great... image/metaphor/what have you. And Burt Ives singing!
(9) How the Grinch Stole Christmas - the ultimate in redemption tales. I love the Whos down in Whoville, I love the Grinch's little puppy, I love that it's Boris Karloff narrating and I LOVE Dr. Seuss. How can you go wrong! Btw, clearly I am speaking of the original animated version. CLEARly.
(8) Home Alone - although more recent viewings have me sort of mortified about how the family all snaps at each other (and not just Buzz! Like, Kevin to his mom and his mom to Kevin and all of them! More like les incompetents meanie-mos!), nostalgia and general awesomeness wins me over. I still remember my dad buying this movie (which is a no-no for him. Why would you buy a movie?! Go outside and play. When I was a kid we didn't even HAVE a TV, I had to kill the chicken and pluck it when I was four on the farm for our Christmas dinner) in the early 1990s, and watching it on Christmas Eve until at some point we started going to midnight mass and therefore watching NBC's airing of George Bailey instead. The family's trials and tribulations in trying to get back to Kevin, John Candy's AMAZING tales from his polka band, and of course the massive Mousetrap that is the house awaiting the Wet Bandits all combines for one of the best movies of all time. The fact that it takes place at Christmas (and also in Chicago!!) is icing on the cake. Or the feathers on the glue. Whatever.
(7) Holiday Inn - look. I've blogged about this before, but suffice it to say, Holiday Inn is the original Christmas romcom (at least that I know of, which is good enough for me!), Fred Astaire dances, Bing Crosby (BING!!! CROSBY!!!) sings, and White Christmas (one of the most lovely Christmas songs ever) comes from Holiday Inn, and not that stupid technicolor sequel. Ehem.
(6) Love Actually - I haven't specifically blogged about this one, but cmon. It's sprinkled throughout my life post-2003. Also, this is definitely The Movie when it comes to me breaking down. I recently posted on facebook about it, and a few of my girlfriends from college (hi NY Sam!!) were like "ah yes. This movie reminds me of MA sobbing hysterically and not being able to contain it so she ended up spitting in that girl's hair in front of her." Ok none of them said that last bit but I know they were thinking it! Anyway, it's so glorious, especially if you don't think about it too hard. Hugh Grant's soliloquy about being the country of Harry Potter? Yes please. Hugh Grant's "ooooo would we call her chubby?" line? YES please. Hugh Grant dancing around whatever 10 Downing St? YES PLEASE! Also, you know, the Billy Nighy storyline makes me weep, I love foreign languages and Colin Firth, and the cutie pie stepson of Liam Neeson is so GREAT.
(5) A Charlie Brown Christmas - between the Vince Guaraldi music that I can't stop listening to on Spotify, the Charles Schultz' terribly sad personal story that informs the character of Charlie Brown, Lucy IN LIFE! Lucy is my favorite of all TIME, and Linus' telling of the story of Christmas, I'm already moved beyond tears by the time all the kids learn the lesson of non-commercialized reasons to celebrate Christmas, come to CB's house, take Snoopy's decorations and fix up the tree. But then when they start singing looo looos (to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing) I'm filled with Christmas joy!! I love it.
(4) Miracle on 34th Street - I'm speaking of the Natalie Wood/Maureen O'Hara version, just in case you were wondering. I love the guy who plays Kris Kringle. I love that "Uncle Fred" is able to use the Postal Service (MAIL!) to legally prove (LAW!) that he's Santa. I love that there's romance and Maureen O'Hara learns that you have to have faith in people sometimes. I love that Kris finds the house for Susie. I love all the side characters, like Alfred and Mr. Shelhammer (and Mrs. Shelhammer and her fondness for cocktails) and the district attorney and Judge Harper and Fred Mertz as Judge Harper's friend. I love the idea that out there there really is a Santa Claus (or Sinterklaas) walking amongst us, tweaking things to make our Christmases wonderful. I believe!
(3) A Christmas Story - I love my family, but it is with GREAT COMFORT I think of the 24 hours of A Christmas Story playing during Christmas, for the parts of the day between the big meal and the awkward passing around of cash in front of the tree (then we get to take pictures, and my grandfather cries, and I get a little weepy and then my cousin's baby makes us all laugh). This movie is without a doubt, one of my favorite movies of all time. Is it the bully getting his? Is it the triple dog dare? Is it the little brother not being able to put his arms down? Is it the cursing? Is it cause it's FRAGILE - must be Italian!? Is it the red ryder bb gun?! It's more than the sum of its parts, and I just fucking love it.
(2) It's a Wonderful Life - "He didn't save enough money to send Harry away to college, let alone me. But he did help a few people get out of your slums, Mr. Potter, and what's wrong with that? Why... here, you're all businessmen here. Doesn't it make them better citizens? Doesn't it make them better customers? You... you said... what'd you say a minute ago? They had to wait and save their money before they even ought to think of a decent home. Wait? Wait for what? Until their children grow up and leave them? Until they're so old and broken down that they... Do you know how long it takes a working man to save $5,000? Just remember this, Mr. Potter, that this rabble you're talking about... they do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community. Well, is it too much to have them work and pay and live and die in a couple of decent rooms and a bath? Anyway, my father didn't think so. People were human beings to him. But to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well in my book, my father died a much richer man than you'll ever be!" and "Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends." and "A toast to my big brother George: The richest man in town." See. Now I'm crying
(1) Muppet Family Christmas - I'm out of words to express how I feel about this movie. Luckily I've done it before. But if you don't want to read that, here's my summary. Family! Redemption! Muppets! Fraggles! Sesame Street! SINGING. Oh the singing. In other words, the perfect cocktail for the perfect Christmas movie.

Now go on, tell me in the comments what I've forgotten. And watch out for the icy patch!

Putting the Christ back in Chanukah... oh wait.

2011-12-19T15:30:00.003-05:00

I've a bone to pick with you, America. And by America, I really mean those of you who think that people saying "Happy Holidays" is somehow interfering with your First Amendment right to religious freedom. Examples: Bill O'Reilly, the new priest at my parents' church, sanctimonious cashiers at the Pentagon City mall, great aunts and annoying overzealous relatives, neighbors, people everywhere.

Here's the deal.

This country? The one we live in? Is diverse. I know it pains you that this is so, and I'd apologize except let's be honest, the only people I wish we could kick out are YOU. But ok, fine. We all have a right to exist and be happy next to each other, but that doesn't mean I have to bow to your beliefs just cause you think they're right. If you wanna wish me a Merry Christmas, that's your prerogative. However, if I were walking down the street or buying something from you or thanking you for holding a door, and you're a stranger? I'm not going to assume that that's the right thing to say to you.

Here's why.

You/I might be Jewish. You/I might be Muslim. You/I might be Hindu, or Buddhist, or Sikh, or Taoist, or Zoroastrian, or a follower of Obeah. You/I might follow a completely different religious path entirely, or

wait for it

not believe in any god at all. I know! These people exist! It's shocking!

The thing is this, America. For all your whinging about the United States being founded in the Judeo-Christian tradition, the LAWS (you've heard of those, right? Like facts? They're sort of like opinions except they actually matter) of the land say no establishment of religion. So while you might think, actually, your random county in Tennefuckingssee is at risk for being ruled by Sharia law (I know, I am worried for you guys too), that's unfuckingConstitutional. So is requiring stores or neighbors or randos to wish you a GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS.

Now.

The Constitution doesn't legislate feelings (although honestly? Sometimes I wish it did), so you're allowed to be pissed all you want. But don't come whining to me about it. Don't bemoan the state of the world when, you know, it's the first night of Chanukah and your grocery store clerk wished you a happy fucking holidays. Do you know how lucky you are? Not just that you can afford food, but that you have a grocery store clerk who is nice enough to be kind to you, as opposed to grunting rude sounds in your general direction after being harassed all fucking day long by assholes like me that are like "but wait, do you have Harpoon Winter WARMER? Can you go look? Please? I neeeeeeeed it."

I do. It's true.

If you want to snidely reply "you mean Merry Christmas" back, that's fine, but then YOU'RE a dick. I get wishing people a Merry Christmas when you know for a fact that they celebrate that holiday. But - newsflash! - not everyone does, and your relentless hissy fit makes others feel isolated from you. Some of them even are Christians, like my dear mom who had to sit through being told that if she wished her fucking priest a fucking happy holiday, he'd punch her in the nose.

Yeah. Cause that's something Jesus would do.

Like I said above, it's your prerogative to do whatever the hell you want as long as it does not impinge upon my actual liberties. But you're coming pretty fucking close, America. For when you shout down anyone who gets the fact that we are not a monolithic or monotheistic society, you make it a hostile environment for someone who MERELY WANTED TO BE KIND AND NOT OFFEND YOU. That DOES come up against the First Amendment, but not the religion clause. You know - the one that talks about abridging the freedom of speech.

Dramatic, you say? Yes. I am. Because I love our country, and you fuckers are fucking it up. So instead of a Merry Christmas, I wish a happy fuck off, to you and yours. And a wonderful 2012, may it re-elect our Communist, Socialist, Fascist, Muslim, Christian, non-American-born, Hawaiian President Obama.

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-12-16T12:06:00.000-05:00

People Who Rock:

Becca. I sort of wish that I was a dude so I could be engaged to her on MY birthday and she would be the best fiancee ever. Although, I'm not sure I could compete with her actual fiance. Crap;
Similarly, happy birthday to Neil (Becca's actual fiance);
My friend Rosemary! Today is her 30th and with it kicks off the next 2(ish) years wherein my closest friends (in age, but also, for the most part in life) all hit the big 3-0!!;
The Muppets. Why are they so awesome?! Also, John Denver, for the best Christmas album, ever. Been listening to Kermit (and the Muppets) plus John sing The Christmas Wish on loop and it's making my holiday season. I DON'T know if you believe in Christmas or IF you have presents underneath the Christmas tree. BUT if you believe in love, that WILL be more than enough for you to come and celebrate with me!!;
Similarly, Mairi Campbell (via Lemmonex, in a slightly roundabout way). Her version of Auld Lang Syne is gorgeous;
Eggnog. Did you guys know that it was invented to counteract Seasonal Affect Disorder? No? That's not true? Shhhhhh let me believe it; and
Magnolia and DCBlogs!! Thanks guys!! Except... now DC might think I need a depressintervention?.

People Who Suck:
You know what? I think we've had enough down time this week. No one sucks!! Happy weekend!!

Except you Chris Christie, you dickhead.

It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees

2011-12-15T15:57:00.003-05:00

Hey DC Blogs readers!! Um... this is a slightly more sad post than a blog promising drunk wedding stories (etc) is accustomed to. If you want happy fun stuff, feel free to leave for other posts! I'd start with today's People Who Rock, People Who Suck or Wednesday's If I Were Mitt Romney! Thanks for visiting, and I'll be back next week with the usual fare.

So.

It's barely December (feel the temperatures?!) and yet as if by magic entire blocks of houses and trees are covered in twinkly lights. Businesses are decked out in red and green for Christmas, blue and white for Chanukah, and a weird amalgamation of colors for Kwanzaa (seriously - look into the holiday retailers. It's not that hard). It's impossible to avoid the strains of all sorts of holiday music on the radio, which means Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby of course, but also Adam Sandler and this terrible version of the 12 Days of Christmas Z100 created so long ago I still can taste the Otis Spunkmeyer cookies from the high school days of yore when I hear it.

Yes. I used yore. That's how unavoidable the music is.

If sentient beings came down from outer space (and didn't immediately pulverize us for being idiots and not realizing we could all be pretty awesome if we just. Got. Along) they'd probably think this must be the Happiest Time of Year (tm). This is of course what mass marketed cards, cheery music, sappy movies and angry Christians fighting the nonexistent "war against Christmas" (also tm, now that the Daily Show ROCKED IT OUT) would have you believe, but you know and I know that in reality the weeks between overstuffing yourself with stuffing and singlehandedly destroyed forests of wrapping paper trees can be some of the darkest of the year.

And I don't just mean light wise, although that certainly doesn't help.

When we're in this time of year, some days it feels like the only thing keeping me from hiding under the covers with Friends DVDs and a few pints of Chubby Hubby are my anti-depressants. And I understand that I'm more susceptible to those sorts of thoughts, which by the by is also why I get the good meds. But I also understand that in no way is Depression the cause (or the only one) for this sort of malaise, because the entire country isn't afflicted with the big D.

Jeez. I hope not!

But this is the time of year when I sort of feel like we take the measure of our lives, and find them lacking. Perhaps that's just cause (for many of us) we see old family and friends and are reminded of all the things we didn't do in the past year; all the things that didn't change, all the goals not achieved. Isn't that the point of New Year, when everyone vows to change all the things they wish they already changed about themselves and to work really really hard at it for a month (or so) while the memory of the dark days of December is still upon them?

Seriously. This is how I speak where it's nonstop Nat King Cole.

The funny thing is that most times of year, I'm thrilled that there's more I want to do/be/obtain/achieve. If I was perfect, then I might as well be dead - there's nothing more to live for. Usually that doesn't mean I'm UNhappy or NOT content with my life - I have amazing friends and family, the means to live comfortably, a job, Friends DVDs and Barack Obama as my president. Yet at this time of year, suddenly the things that are missing loom large. My friends' divorce only highlights that they loved and lost, true, but I'm still in the "never loved at all" camp, which I hear is worse. Cute pictures of Anna's niece on facebook make me ache for a little baby to play with (not to call my own. Even Christmas doesn't make me blind to the truth that I am SO irresponsible). Songs about Silver Bells force me to confront the fact that I love New York more than I love DC, and then that leads to the logical conclusion - why am I here? Darkness falls early and the ~~snow~~ rain falls down and it seems like the whole world is just weeping with frustration, or worse, despair.

Yay.

You know I love Christmas (I always will - points to the winner!) and it really is just about my favorite time of year other than the beginning of the new year Ima create in May (in other words, my birthday). The ~~snow~~ rain always clears and then I can see the bright lights on the streets, and the people being kinder to each other while waiting for their red cups at Starbucks, and the presents under the tree, and the generosity of the human spirit. But the darker side of that "Grown Up Christmas List" is that no matter what we do, lives ARE torn apart, wars will continue to start, and some things are so awful that not even time will heal all hearts. To a less dramatic degree, people we love will die and friends will divorce and I will start 2012 by kissing someone history proves I will likely not be kissing at the start of 2013.

It's enough to make you wish you had a river you could skate away on.

If I were Mitt Romney

2011-12-14T15:57:00.000-05:00

... I would be pretty fucking pissed off that I can't get a goddamned break from the party for which I've totally sold my soul to the devil (unless Mormons don't believe in the devil).

... I would be itching to challenge (most) of my contestants to a spelling bee.

... I would have an Incredibles-esq computer program that flips through former "front runners" and Xes them out. I would also watch this when my head threatened to explode.

... I would be tempted to shout "Newt? Newt GINGRICH?! Rly bishes?! Don't we know how this shit turns out?!"

... I would be nervous about the candidate "Above, None of the"

... I would start shitting on caucuses now. Primary elections are the only real thing and the like. And if Newt starts pulling ahead in New Hampshire, start shitting on everything north of the Mason Dixon line.

... I would similarly adopt a southern accent.

... I'd offer to buy everyone in America a puppy.

... I wouldn't go on SNL for fear that Americans would like the robot Mitt Romney more than me.

... I would get drunk and go tell America to fuck itself.

#DivorceSeason2011

2011-12-13T11:06:00.000-05:00

While 2011 has been the Year of the Wedding (seriously. I want to start making an MA calendar. It would start on my birthday, and every year would be a predictor of snarktasticness. Just think of the possibilities! And yes, I am that self-centered), I've said before that I've attended QUITE a few weddings before 2011, and have been a bridesmaid not QUITE twenty-seven times, but more than your average bear.

Because who the fuck asks a bear to be a bridesmaid. Amirite?

The point is, what I'm trying and failing to say, completely, and that's because it's awkward and making me feel shitty, and BLAH - the first couple for whom I was a bridesmaid is getting divorced.

Ugh.

The story of their relationship was deleted by my mass edits, but suffice it to say, I never thought they should get married. I didn't tell them that however, because by the time I was in the picture they were practically engaged and I have a rule about the point of no return. Ok, that's a lie - I didn't have a rule at the time, but this situation GAVE me the rule, which was confirmed many times over by other ill-advised pairings. The rule is this: you can and should say something to a friend at the beginning of the relationship, if you think there's a real cause for concern. But once that person is headed down the path of engagement (not necessarily a ring yet, but very close to it) you keep your mouth shut except for in the case of abuse.

It's a cowardly rule, but with a point.

Which is that if the shit hits the fan, you will still be friends with them enough to help pick up the pieces (not of shit. Ew. Mixed metaphor fail). When this couple got engaged, On Again Off Again Ex told them in a drunken haze that he thought they were making a huge mistake. He was demoted from groomsman to enemy in 24 hours flat, and I had to ask myself - how did that help anything? They didn't break up, and even if they had, they would have wondered if it was because of him. Seven years later, I doubt that's remotely on their mind (nay, hope not!) cause even if it were, what's the use? A belated, resigned, unhappy told-you-so?

No gracias.

Because even though I felt the same way, as I - in a similarly drunken haze, it was college for chrissake - predicted to OAOA Ex that they would be divorced in 5 years time, I never wanted it to happen. I'm a romcom fan! I want things to end happily ever after, especially when I was 21 and the world was oh so much more black and white than grey. Now of course, I think that the best you can hope for is happily ever after (most of the time). But clearly that didn't even happen, because the papers are signed and her last name is back to its original and all in all this sucks.

A lot.

A few years back, in 2007 when I was having my first big wedding year (and started this blog, incidentally), I was talking with one of my youngest uncles about how crazy it was that I was a mere 24 and everyone I knew was tying the knot. It made me feel old. He smiled grimly and said wait until your friends start getting divorced - that makes you feel it a whole new level. And he's right.

But also wrong.

I don't feel older than I did when I was 24. I feel oh so much younger, because I don't worry about what my life will look like when I'm 30 or even 40, or 50. I know now that life just happens, and the best thing you can do is to make the most of it, whether that's remembering how attractive you are to the opposite sex when you go through a sad break-up, or improving your resume with the help of ridiculously over-confident friends who make you feel like a rockstar when the threat of layoffs draws near.

Instead.

I feel that my level of cynicism has reached new levels. Or maybe even worse - my level of believing in hope and joy and wonderfulness has reached new lows. Because once upon a time, these two people really fucking loved each other. And now they are but exes, in a way that I've never experienced and some would argue you can never truly come back from (not saying it's bad to get divorced. Definitely not saying that. At all. Often is good thing. But just really hard in ways that break-ups are not). And there's no word for that but shitty.

In the end, I'm grateful I have friends around who would (and do) keep me grounded when it comes to romance and romantic partners. I'm grateful for people like OAOA Ex who has been a great comfort in all of this. I'm grateful that I DID keep my mouth shut, because now I can be there for my friend when she needs to sit on the phone and yell, or cry, or say nothing at all.

Despite all that gratitude, however, today I am sad.

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-12-09T12:21:00.002-05:00

Happy weekend y'all!!

People Who Rock:

Jon freaking Stewart and his writers! (Especially Miles Kahn and Rory Albanese who keep me cracking up via the twitter). Knocking it out of the GD park over and over and over and OVER again, gentlemen and ladies;
My sister. She is just... the best? Ever? Sorry other sisters (including me!);
Salman Khan and Alexander Berger. Also, the NYT for keeping me apprised of people who are really fucking awesome;
Marian Keyes, for all her Walsh sister books. I want one on Helen so badly, but I can understand why she wouldn't write it. However, seriously, they are SO SO GOOD. Actually, fuck it. ALL of her books are so so good;
Magnolia and vvk for drinks on Tuesday. I had a riDICulous amount of fun;
Ramona, Becca, Anna, Dan, Oscura (man. Best/worst pseudonym, ever), Chelsea, Julie, fave prof, DC Laura, Grace, Arielle, Christine, oh god and just everyone for helping me with job crap. So much appreciation; and
My mom for helping me see I have the BEST idea for the chick lit novel I've always wanted write. I'm positive nothing will come of it (nothing ever does) but this one is a great idea. Too bad I guess. But my mom still rocks.

People Who Suck:

Uh, me. Awk. I DID cut my hair and I DID donate to the "Beautiful Lengths" partnership between Pantene and the American Cancer Society. Sorry for not making that clearer. Do you guys need pics? I feel like that's particularly self indulgent;
Fruit flies. GO AWAY. You make my enjoyment of ute-ing oopples and banoonoos MUCH less (points to the winner). Plus, you're just dumb and don't live very long, so why don't you just go and not exist in the first place;
Seth Burroughs, Elizabeth Robbee, and Ben Byers for "December to Remember". Why do idiots like you get to work for Congress while awesome people all over are unemployed;
The weather. Why is it ALWAYS so shitty on the day of my grad school's holiday party? All mama wants to do is get happily toasted WITHOUT FREEZING;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five;
Fracking. Eek - so bad. SO SO bad. I know we need energy from domestic sources, but this is PRETTY CLEARLY not the way to do it. Solar power now! And other green ways! YAY; and
People who shoot other people. I don't think I need a reason, do I? No. I thought not.

Uh. That was a depressing thought to end on. So think of baby pandas! SO CUTE!!

Low maintenance on the outside, high maintenance on the inside

2011-12-08T14:46:00.002-05:00

So.

As I ~~hinted at~~ stated straight out on Monday, one of my biggest concerns in any haircutting situation is how easy it is for me to not have to do anything to it. I'm incredibly lazy when it comes to my physical appearance, and thank the gods of genetics (I heard it) I've been ridiculously, totally undeservedly lucky in the facial department. Old roommates loathe me because I don't need to pluck my eyebrows - they're naturally shaped in a pretty good arch. Despite having dark brown hair, the ones covering my legs and arms and upper lip grow in much lighter, almost blonde, so there's no need for dyes or waxes or whatever. My eyelashes are curly on their own, which is good because I'm pretty sure I'd poke myself in the eye over and over again if I needed to use one of those medieval torture devices. My skin is relatively clear, my nose and ears are free of wandering hairs, chapstick and I are buds, and in general I'm just a lucky fucking duck.

I know. I hate me too.

This isn't to say - in ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM - that I am Hawt Stuff. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm bad to look at, however, my point is merely that I can get up, run a brush through my hair walk out of the house in 4 minutes without looking vaguely homeless. Additionally, my extra time is not spent on tweaking things, but instead on napping.

Oh the napping.

So when I was in the lady's chair last Friday I was like "I just need it to be low maintenance, because I'm low maintenance." And then the little voice in my head that sounds like Harry Burns said "you're the worst kind; you're high maintenance, but you THINK you're low maintenance." And instead of staring at him blankly like Sally Albright does (or faking orgasm noises cause that's fun!) I started cracking up.

Understandably, the hair lady was surprised.

I felt the need to continue. "Well... low maintenance when it comes to my physical appearance. Because my therapy bill would suggest otherwise for the internal stuff." She smiled - warily - but I knew I was onto something.

How hilarious/sad/ironic is it that while you couldn't tell me why people need to wear foundation, I have spent years in therapy just to get to a normal person's level of insecurity. At some point at Dan and Anna's wedding (recap next week!) when complimented on my toast, I began asking "do you really think so? Or are you just saying that cause you know it's what I want to hear." Yes, there were a few (dozen) glasses of champagne involved.

And Dan's therapist mother. That was fun.

My point is, I wear my low maintenance ish like a badge. Who gets bogged down in make-up and tweezers and ~~pleasing men~~ competing with other women? Not I! I am unruffled by silly notions of beauty and requirements of our modern age. And it's lucky that the weird combination of Irish Italianness made it possible for me to be so glib about it.

But.

When it comes down to it, I overanalyze every. Single. Thing (see? I keep doing it! Why? What does this MEAN?! Oh god, I'm over analyzing this now too. Crap). Why do you think that older woman kept looking at me on the bus today? Is there something on my face? Did I accidentally brush up against her when we were getting on and now she thinks I'm a rude bitch? Should I apologize? Would that be awkward for her? And would the guy sitting next to me think I'm being weird? And then how could we do a meet cute cause dayum he is HAWT STUFF but why would he ever go for me? Am I pissing him off with my Vanessa Carlton/Michelle Branch iPod mix? Why hasn't Michelle Branch made another album? Doesn't she know how much I crave her happy blend of pop, whimsy and cheer?

Etc.

The Harry Burns voice is right. High maintenance, but think I'm low maintenance. The worst kind? Or the best? Or probably just about normal.

Downloading vs Borrowing vs Stealing

2011-12-06T11:55:00.000-05:00

I have an ethical question for all y'all. In this day and age, what's the rule about downloading music vs borrowing it vs stealing it outright?

Let me back up.

Since I started running lo these many months ago (jaaayzus the Xmas music is incessant despite the spring-like temperatures), I found that I needed new music All. The. Time. Also, apparently I started doing that annoying thing where you emphasize a phrase by capitalizing and inserting punctuation, but that's not important right now. What IS important is that between Rihanna and Beyonce, I had a relatively strong catalog of popular music to pick from that would give me both the peppiness needed to keep running and the beat to which to do so.

Uh. That might be grammatically incorrect.

Anyway, the thing is, I'm not the world's richest person. And even if I was, you can bet your bippy I'd be donating my money to Worthy Causes (tm) and also, my alma mater because if you donate $4mil they name a building after you and I like the idea of the MA Building. In any case, I'm just not really seeing the point of paying $1-$2 per song when I can:

Find the songs as easy as 1, 2, 3 for free, albeit in less than legal ways, and
Spend that money to feed my diet coke addiction.

However, when it dawned on my sister Grace that I had purloined a few songs from the interwebs without technically paying for them, she was shocked! Shocked! To find that is gambling going on here. Or that I had no morals.

One of those.

She was outraged that I was "hurting" people by downloading the music for free, and when I countered with the fact that I thought Bey would probably be OK with it since she's ridiculously wealthy as it is, she openly mocked me for calling Beyonce Bey and then told me that instead of thinking about the top people, I needed to picture sound engineers and other words that mean all the other workers on music that I don't really know because I am not cool like that.

I was appropriately ashamed.

And yet, as I wrapped up my (re)viewing of Morning Glory a few too-early mornings ago, I found myself intrigued by the song that plays in the credits. A quick internet search revealed the song to be "Strip Me" by Natasha Bedingfield, and the third link in my Googled page was "download free!"

Eep. Almost as bad as a diet coke pusher (ie, grocery stores?).

So now I need to know, dear internets. What's the dilly. Am I Terrible Person (also tm) for having downloaded these songs without paying my fair share? Where does that line extend to? For example, Grace argued that if I get an album out of the library and burn it to my computer, that is also "stealing" when really, hello?! I borrowed the disk! They had to know that was gonna happen! What about if I get music from my friends, which maybe they paid for (and maybe they didn't, I'm certainly in no position to ask)?

Is buying from iTunes (or wherever) the only way to do the right thing?

Help. Be honest, please. If you really think this is a scourge of our society, tell me! And if you're with me, FIGHT WITH ME. Or something. Because I really really want this Natasha Bedingfield song and I'm itching to hulkshare the shit out of it.

Blonde or brunette, gentlemen prefer long tresses

2011-12-05T18:01:00.002-05:00

So. (This is a heavy parens post. No idea why.)

This year has been the Year of the Wedding (don't listen to the Chinese, they don't know what they're talking about). And I've one more to recap (I know, you're biting your lip in anticipation. Don't do that though, cause like, it's cold out and you might draw blood. Ouch), but before I do, there are a few things I have to discuss. Today, our topic is my haircut on Friday.

Oh I'm GOING somewhere with this.

I actually don't know the precise date of my last haircut, although I do know it was in 2011 when it was still gray and rainy outside (because I feared for my post-haircut frizz control being ruined by the weather). So February? March?

Whatever.

Point is, shortly thereafter I started the march of the bridesmaid dresses, and thus no time seemed appropriate for a haircut. Why? Updos! The longer the better (well. To a point. Anyone else see that episode of What Not to Wear with the very, very long haired lady? Too much friend. Too much). I know I could always get a blow-out, but as should be clear (aforementioned frizz, general Italianness) that shit would disappear in five seconds of not perfectly dry, 72 degree weather. Or dancing.

And yes, it is ridiculous that I've thought about this.

Anyway, by the end of the last wedding (late October), my hair had grown longer than anyone could remember it being. And as I sat there discussing the impending nuptials with my mother/sister/the bride/friends/anyone who would listen, I often mentioned I was so excited about being able to finally dice the mane I had grown. All asked me one question.

So, are you going to donate?

To be admittedly selfish, or at the very least self-centered, I hadn't even considered it in my life until that point. My concern with a haircut is usually how much I'm going to sob hysterically afterwards (my poor stylist of a decade, who cut the same cut EVERY TIME, did not understand. "But MA!" she'd beg. "Nothing's DIFFERENT! I PROMISE you!" Didn't matter), will it air-dry appropriately wavy (I'm lazy) and can it fit into a messy bun (like, really lazy). Recently, however, I've had more than a few occasions to recognize the importance of real-hair wigs and hairpieces. Not to get into the details, but more than a few women in my life who are very important to me have made use of them of late, and I realized - dudes.

I had an opportunity to do something nice!

And so I vowed to donate. I was thinking of going short (sometimes super short, like Mariska Hargitay third season of SVU short) and so I started posing the question to pretty much any friend who crossed my path. "What do you think?" I'd ask, folding my hair up underneath itself. "I need to cut 8-10 inches, so how about this? Or this? Or this?" Without fail my female friends would be all "zomg, so CUTE" or something slightly more erudite, and without fail my male friends would be like, "but WHY?!"

And I remembered.

In the past, whether it was HS Ex or GS Ex or EC Ex, boyfriends always objected - sometimes vehemently - to my haircuts. And as I said? I got the same. One. For a DECADE. It's not like this cut, which is certainly a serious lop off the top of my head. It was the same just below the shoulder layered look with sideswept bangs. EVERY TIME. So why would they freak out more than me, who is admittedly a psycho? This time around it started with my father, who is supPOSEd to be my biggest fan and love me no matter what (harrumph). Then my friends' husbands. Then my own (best!) friend Dan. Dude after dude expressed shock, doubt, and confusion about why in GOD'S name any girl at all would cut her hair.

I blame testosterone.

Because with exes, ok, fine, I can almost see it (if I'm being particularly generous). But these guys, the ones this time around, don't have to look at my face every day (in fact, it would be downright worrisome if they did). None of them will be grabbing the back of my head anytime soon in a fit of passion (eurgh, awk) or caressing it as though to prove they are caring and generous and don't just want to get laid.

Dudes, we're onto you.

My point is, they're not attracted to me. And to prove my point, my friend Anna's gay hair stylist on the day of her wedding, when he found out I was cutting my hair, was aghast. "But it's such lovely hair? You're so young! Why would you go short?"

I mean cmon. He could actually have had a financial stake in this. WTF.

And so, dear friends, while I can't put to rest the endless battle of Blonde vs Brunette (not to mention ginger, black, grey, white, mixtures of any of those and of course all the colors of the rainbow found in salons and CVS locations), I can say this. When it comes to long vs short, even when donating for a great cause, (most) gentlemen prefer long. Perhaps moreso than women do (ifyouknowwhattamean). Something to keep in mind if you want to be in the next Year of the Wedding (which hopefully will wait for the appropriate 12 year cycle).

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-12-02T10:38:00.000-05:00

You know I'm almost really for reals no srsly I swear back when I'm back to PWRing, PWSing. For definitely maybe yes no sort of ish.

People Who Rock:

The friends/fam I saw over the last week (Grace, Michael, Alexis, parents, Christine, her fam, my Italian grandparents, Arielle (and thank you esp for coming to our race!), Anne and Maggie (I love you girls and I'm sorry times are rough), Emilia (and her puppy Finn!!!!), Caroline and her lovely husband, NY Laura, Becca's fiance Neil and Becca, of course, for being just. You know. Truly amazing in the face of a psycho friend;
The best bar ever and especially John Quinn. Miss you guys;
My old work husband. First of all, dude has got the bluest of blue eyes ever that see right through all your bullshit. Although, to be fair, he did sit right next to me for a full year and saw me through some serious ups and downs (not the most serious of course, but still) and so he probably DOES see right through MY bullshit. Second of all, and more importantly, he is just nice and smart and funny and also hates his job - it was nice to have someone to commiserate WITH instead of TO for once;
My sister in law Alexis!! She knows why, but if I told YOU, you'd know too much;
My parents. I'm still not over them being so remarkably chill this past weekend amid my falling apartness. As I said to my therapist, I was more worried about their reaction to the news I might lose my job than I was about the news I might lose my job, and they performed admirably;
My friend Luiza. I value her ability to make me laugh in the most dire of circumstances, and also? Just her loveliness as a friend. And you know, while we're at it, her loveliness in life because why not; and
Chris Wright, RL Stine, and others for tweeting me. Dudes are some of my (smaller) heroes. Now if JK Rowling tweeted me, I think I could die of happiness.

People Who Suck:

My coworkers. Not all of them. Just most;
Married men who hit on single women at parties. I can see your ring. That's gross;
I don't want to say Republicans. I think what I want to say is people who don't understand that we are in a huge shitstorm right now and if the people who study things like economics and social science say that cutting the payroll tax is helping dredge us out of the recession, then MAYBE WE SHOULD DO IT. Also, people who say that 1mil/yr isn't a ridiculous amount of money. I'm not saying people shouldn't make that money, I'm saying they can be taxed more than my friends and family who are being taxed at 40% but making less than $200K;
The OWS protestors in New York. I know I talked about the DC-ers last week, but I found this weekend a lot of really liberal people being furious with the NY contingent. I went into my old company and the businesses in the lower part of the building have really suffered because of the protestors hanging out in the lobby to get warm, which resulted in increased security, which resulted in lost business, etc. Also, I heard a lot of anecdotal evidence of some serious harassment of my friends and their coworkers. Guess what OWSers? Bankers and lawyers are part of the 99% too! PICK YOUR GODDAMNED BATTLES AND STOP MAKING IT HARD FOR ME TO SUPPORT YOU. Ugh. I'm so annoyed when I have to tend to agree with people who are smirky and on Fox News;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five;
A society that doesn't value trash pick-up, feeding the homeless, TEACHERS (for chrissake), police and firemen, construction workers laying out fiber optic cables (uh, I might be wrong on my jargon there) throughout the country and TV writers who do funny shows like Happy Endings and How I Met Your Mother as much as the ONE random DUDE who throws baskets in the hoop, the douches who lied to protect their own interests and made bank off it, ex-Congressmen (those who are and those who are not running for President) for their "advocacy" skills - aka their ability to schmooze with their friends, and Angefuckinglina Jofuckinglie. Let's spread the wealth a bit there, America. YES. I SAID IT; and
Fox News. Shithead motherfuckers. Thank god for Jon Stewart and his ability to take you bitches down. See below:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Much Ado About Stuffing

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

Other (quick, self-indulgent) updates!

2011-11-27T21:29:00.003-05:00

Yo. Hope you guys are enjoying the end of Thanksgiving weekend! Or at the very least, not wanting to stab yourself in the eye with a pen at the thought of having to go back to work tomorrow. Before kicking off the week I wanted to just point your purty eyes to a few small changes.

a) To the left to the left is the link to my Fitblr (tumblr about working out. Actually, mine is mostly pictures of hot curvy girls. No joke!). If you're into that sort of thing, check it out!
b) To the right you'll see icons for:
Following me on twitter
Emailing me!
Following the blog on facebook
Utilize them as you will (and if that means never, that's cool too).

Good luck on the week, and be back tomooooooooorrow!!

Thankful for those who "married a lesbian, left a man at the altar, fell in love with a gay ice dancer, threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire, live in a box!"

2011-11-24T22:23:00.002-05:00

So I sort of can't believe that this is the fifth Thanksgiving I've been writing this blog (no for reals, yo: 2010, 2009, 2008 and 2007.

I'm... getting old!!!

Seriously though, I can't believe some of you guys have stuck with me this long. Through NY/Hoboken/VA/DC. Through grad school applying, freaking out about and graduating. Through relationships and break-ups. Through deaths and through births. Through the big D diagnosis (and resultant amount of annoying self-discovery that only comes with patience, time, a ridic amazing therapist and a healthy dose of daily anti-depressants). Through thick and through thin, and yes I am talking about amount/length of posts right now, you guys have been here. Which is why you're number one on my things for which I am thankful this year!!!

You, dear readers. After coming off yet another hiatus, and somehow (some of) you are still here. I honestly just don't believe it. I want to ask why but that sounds self serving, so instead, THANK YOU! You're AWESOME. I hope your Thanksgiving (unless you're not from/living in the US in which case your Thursday) was just delicious.
My parents. There is a small but discrete chance I might be laid off in the next month or so, and my mom was wonderful and told me I'm always welcome at home but didn't take offense when I said that I might stay in DC for a bit first. My dad, to his immense credit, didn't freak out. At all. And honestly, I can't tell you how much that means to me.
My friend Caroline. She is the number one reason I ran a half marathon last weekend (oh hey! I ran a half marathon a week and a half ago!) and it was amazing and I hate myself for saying it but I like running. Relatedly, Maria (for running the half with me), Mr. Maria (who needs a name, and was super supportive on the sidelines), Joey for pushing and believing in me (even though she was injured and actually has always loved running. She's a weirdo), Maggie and Mr. Maggie for cheering me on via the internets consistently and loudly, Becca for pushing me hard when I needed it most, Anna and Dan for calming me down and telling me I could do it, Chelsea for signing up for Daily Mile just cause I asked her to, Emilia for always having said I could do it, Arielle for telling me I wasn't going to die, and Ramona, my DC coach who answered emails and gave me motivation and told me I could do it and ran my 10K with me in October and just was lovely and now is going to force me to run another one. Except I want to, so it's not forced.
Daily Mile. YOU ARE A GODSEND! I hated running. I hated working out. I'm not saying I'm great at it, but amazing concept for those of us who are probably a leeeeeeettle too obsessed with social media and not so much with the exercising.
My brother and sister in law! DUDE I HAVE A SISTER IN LAW! How cool is THAT. We are going to see the Muppets tomorrow and I have to say they really are probably the only people in the world I would have waited for.
The Muppets. This is not the first time they have been on a Thanksgiving list, because they are that amazing. I've been re-watching clips from the Muppet Movie, the Great Muppet Caper, and the Muppet Show. I think we all know (well. Those of you from back in the beginning - seriously! SO GREAT) that starting tonight I'm allll about the Muppet Family Christmas (the orig) and the A Christmas Together album. Why are they so good? I honestly just don't know.
The knowledge that losing my job would not be the worst thing in the world. I have a ridiculously supportive support network, a 401K that would buy me probably a year or so of leeway, parents who will pay for trips home to interview for jobs and - worst comes to worst - let me live in their house again if it comes to that. Not just that, but I do not have a mortgage, a spouse, kids, significant amounts of debt, health problems that can't be managed (at least for a time) by meds, responsibilities that require me to face the fact that losing my job would not just be a massive weight of hating my work off my shoulders, but also a terrible, terrible thing. Ignorance is bliss, and so is my carefree life.
My sister Grace. Having her a half a mile away is just, just? JUST! The best thing ever. She drove me here to NJ yesterday and for the six hours we were in the car we just... laughed and harmonized and told each other Deep Serious Things. Knowing I can pretty much repeat that (hopefully without the traffic, and maybe not even the car? Unless we wanna go somewhere yummy?) whenever I want or need to has been of great comfort.
Well-appointed running gear. Good shoes, a warm ear headband thing, a water belt that lasted me throughout 13.1 miles, comfy but wick-y (I'm still new to the jargon) winter leggings, headbands that prevent me from Italianing into my eyes (that is my word for sweating. Also my word for eating too much pasta, having powerful thighs, and making people swoon), Girl Talk on my ipod, sunglasses over my eyes and body glide. BODY GLIDE! All freaking over my body.
My amazing, fantastical, charming, caring, hilarious, consideration, loving friends. All of them. They've been through the ringer and back with me (imagine all you guys had to deal with, and then multiply it by four). For offering me places to live to letting me essentially be a part of their family to cooking me dinner and feeding me wine and listening to me bitch and listening to me cry and listening to me obsess and not judging me at all, I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. Seriously. Maybe too much.

Happy Thanksgiving, all. I hope you, yours, and the people for whom you are thankful had a wonderful holiday (or Thursday!) and that you got the bigger piece of the wishbone.

Torn between agreement and exasperation

2011-11-23T12:03:00.000-05:00

So.

When not at my "home office" (read: couch. Ok fine, mostly bed), I work a few blocks off of McPherson Square. As you may have been bludgeoned over the head with, the Occupy DC contingent of the Occupy Wall Street movement has set up camp there - literally - for the past few months. As it happens, I also used to work inside the Brookfield Properties building at 1 Liberty Plaza - otherwise known as, the building rising over Zuccotti Park in Manhattan.

In other words, I'm sort of upset I/my friends haven't been on the nightly news.

I guess they aren't interviewing "our types" as much, because at least in New York downtown workers are so used to being harassed for questions about the WTC, or to take pictures for tourists (sidenote: totally fine to take a picture. Maybe don't point and smile at the remaining wreckage though?) that they are well-versed in the slide away gaze/I'm too busy shuffle. Instead, what we get are the crazies on camera and funny clips from the Daily Show that show classist riffs already burgeoning among the 99%.

Which is really too bad.

Because I do, at least in the basics, agree with the movement. It's ridiculous that the political class and the very moneyed class (and I'm not even just saying the 1%, although that does have a nice ring to it) seem to have set up the rules so that they benefit the most. Worse is that they seem to feel they deserve it, and if there's anything I hate more in the world (other than people pronouncing "bruschetta" as though it's spelled "broo-shet-uh") it's that feeling of entitlement that comes from ridiculously good circumstances in life, plus some luck.

Not saying they don't work hard (although, yeah, some of them don't).

BUT I AM saying that if Warren Buffett had been born in West Africa, you can bet your bippy he wouldn't be writing op-eds in the NYT about taxing himself more. And at least he gets it. Even people like Bill Gates, who use their RIDICULOUS amounts of money that, I'm sorry, NO ONE SHOULD BE ABLE TO SPEND IN LIFE for good (like the Gates Foundation) still - why the hell do you get to determine where that money goes? What makes you so special? Your brain? Psh. Many more like you. Your luck? Yeah, don't push it. Your good looks - puh, leeze. Don't you feel instead that you should be paying your country back a bit for the massive good fortune you've had and in other senses accumulated?

No?!?!

Without having been born in the United States in the specific era in which they were lucky enough to come of age standing on the shoulders of the work that had come before - and that they were privileged enough to have been exposed to!! - these people (all of them. I don't care who we're talking about, I'm pissed) would not be the megarich. I'm not saying they're not special. I'm not saying they're not smart, or that they haven't worked their asses off.

I AM saying that a billion dollars is TOO much for one or two people to have when there are people. Literally. Starving in Somalia every minute of every day. And if the US Government had some of that money, maybe we could actually implement some of the smart foreign policy ideas to alleviate BASIC HUMAN SUFFERING (while fixing our own schools, investing in our own teachers, paying our own military, and just in general being better at governing and governance).

And so, I do agree with the OWS people's principles that the megarich, and even the normally wealthy/upper middle class (like, I'll admit it, my own immigrant father and teacher mother) can afford to pay more in taxes than they are. So that we can pay off our debts. So college students don't need to be mired in bankruptcy as soon as they graduate. So that we can bring troops home and thank them for serving our country (no matter how weak the case was that they should have been there in the first place) by providing them with healthcare and mental health services and a stipend or an education. So we can help others who need it, instead of buying a fucking HUMMER for the streets of the SUBURBS. The fact of the matter is we should all be willing to CHIP IN for the privilege of having lived and continuing to live in pretty much the BEST effing CIRCUMSTANCES on the globe! GAH!!

However.

I do not agree with the OWS people's methods. Oh sure, I respect them for being able to withstand wind and water and certainly police action to make a statement. I went camping once, and it rained, and I do not care to ever ever subject myself to a night in a soaking wet tent on a soaking wet ground AGAIN.

Well. Unless it was for fun reasons.

But here's the thing? My experience in McPherson, and my friends' experience outside Zuccotti, isn't... pleasant. There are guys walking into Starbucks wearing only a robe - seriously, no shoes, no nothing - at 2pm to use the restroom. I love me some Starbucks public toilets, but buy a bottle of water or something. And put on some SOCKS!

In New York, I've heard tales of snarky judgment being rained down people in business clothes. Hey. Look. WE ARE (for the most part) ON YOUR SIDE. It's math man! Out of every 100 people walking down the street, 98 of them are on YOUR side, and one of the remaining two is YOU. I get it, you're in Wall Street, so bankers blah blah. You know what else is in downtown Manhattan? Food vendors, and tourists, and paralegals and underlings and secretaries!

Gah. Again.

Like Natalie Imbruglia, I'm torn: I'm a little late, but this is how I feel. I want the world to recognize the way things are: you're not better because you were born in New Jersey in 1983. Or in California in 1977 (Tom Brady, baby daddy, modelizer, hulking mass of pigskin tossing, and a one percenter). Or born in that state in 1955 (Steve Jobs, inventor of all things shiny, ridiculously smart innovator, and a one percenter). Or born in Illinois in 1947 (Jon Corzine, dude who is responsible for stupid Chris Christie being in charge of my beloved state, recently disgraced head of doing exactly what he railed against three years ago, and a one percenter). Or born in Nebraska in 1930 (Warren hisself, philanthropist, Berkshire King, and a one percenter).

We are all. Unbelievably. Lucky.

And yet - AND YET - if these OWS or David or DC or Oakland or wherever the fuck they are (everywhere) could maybe coalesce, write down three ideas, and get themselves elected to Congress, instead of DIRTYING UP THE REST OF OUR PUBLIC SPACES, I would greatly appreciate it. Because that's how change happens in America people. And we're pretty fucking lucky that we live here, and not in a place where people are killed for even thinking that they might like something a little different.

The Always a Drunk, Never a Bride Guide to Getting into My Pants

2011-11-22T10:53:00.043-05:00

So.

As part of the blog revamp, I went through alllll of my old blog posts, which was both super fun (I crack myself up. Seriously, I am the funniest person I know. Ok that's a lie but I get all my inside jokes with myself!!) and kind of really...

... sad? Melancholic? Tragic?

It was rough to watch myself fall head over heels for Grad School Ex, knowing what I know now about how it works out. And it was worse to watch me treat him like crap sometimes, knowing what I know now about how deep into the Big D I was sinking. And more than anything, it was really just terrible watching what was clearly a longer than 6 month process of going from normal (ok, still ridic elevated - seriously. I had a problem!) levels of anxiety to some Seriously. Depressed. Shit.

But that's over. (Right brain? Right Pinky. (SEE SO FUNNY!!!))

Uh, anyway? The super awesome thing that made up for it was watching trends in my life that have come and gone. What I mean by that, as an example, is overuse of words (ridic, fabulous, super super super) and overconsumption of booze (seriously. It's been... well not a while cause I was pretty toasty on Sunday but seriously. Before that? I don't remember. IRL friends - please don't try to remind me, got it?). I mean having been way more comfortable with giving pretty specific details about my life, and having been far more excited about new people and parties and things that are exciting, but aren't the marrow of our existences.

I also got more annoying/preachy as the time went on.

But one thing stayed the same, and was AWESOME - I have a tendency to tell people how to get into my pants. The funny thing is, I just did this a few weeks ago with Anna (and friends). We were driving to her bachelorette party and Boyz II Men came on and I was like "oh man, if anyone wants to sleep with me this weekend just tell them to play "I'll Make Love to You" as a pick up line. Surest and quickest way into my pants, ever."

However, over the years there have been a few equally or more sure and quick ways to get into my pants, depending on which version of MA you were asking (some explanations are linked, others are just you know. There). And because I would rather reflect on that than on the past two years of my life, I give you:

The Always a Drunk, Never a Bride Guide to Getting into My Pants

Play I'll Make Love to You as a pick up song. Honestly? Even though I know I should, I don't judge myself an IOTA for this one. When I was 15 this was the only description I had of sex that wasn't from a parent, a health teacher, or this one girl who you kind of didn't believe but was your only source. Let's just say, she said tinfoil was involved and nearly 15 years later I still don't understand how. Anyway, when those Motown Philly boys (and mens, what WHAT) told me my wish is their command, I shivered. Fuck it, I still do. No one has EVER "submit[ted] to my demands". Probably because that sounds creepy, but when they sing it, it just sounds like the most. Romantic. Shit. Possible.
Be able to sing (anything, I guess, but I like musicals). Preferably just like Hugh Jackman. Being as jacked as him is not required, though I can't imagine it would hurt.
Be able to go head for head in a Harry Potter trivia off. I know it's probably impossible, and that you all are probably thinking that anyone who could beat me would be even sadder and scarier than I have been in the past (most recently, Sunday night. Ehem. That was after the toasty part, but I can't say I blame you for thinking that) and so that would be a massive turn off. You all, however, would be very very wrong.
Tell me I look like a young Elizabeth Taylor. A young Kirstie Alley works too, mostly because I actually believe that and if you add the line "when she was hot, like in Cheers" I get to think that you think I'm chill like she was, and also? Remember the best bar ever (oh I miss it. I MISS IT). Point is - it works.
Calling me out on my bullshit but in a nice way. I think I'm pretty smart (false, I think I'm really fucking smart) and yet like to put on a high voice and act ditzy and do the equivalent for anything that is relevant at the time, because I am a contrarian jackass. Being able to see that and call me out on it is hot. Being able to do so without making me feel shame, and instead making me feel like you see through me? Really REALLY fucking hot. Wanna see through my clothes?
Know which song from Phantom is the deep dark secret (on the internets for all to see) behind my original proposal fantasy. Actually, I should probably start with "know that I have several proposal fantasies, and don't be freaked out because trust me I'm pretty sure the marriage thing is still a bit of a way off, but I want the party, DAMNIT." Then go with the song.
Be Ryan Gosling. Or Jason Segel. Or Ryan Reynolds. Or Josh Radnor. Or Billy Joel (screw you he's awesome). Or Bruce or JBJ or James Marsden or Cary Elwes (Becca, I know, I know) or Matthew Perry before massive drug problems and bloat, and you know probably David Schwimmer and definitely Matt LeBlanc or John Cusack or Gerald Butler or Colin Firth or Mark Ruffalo or James McAvoy or Bradley Cooper or... you get the point, right?
Use an appropriate version of the "I cried like a baby at the Keller wedding" line from 27 Dresses. Or at the very least quote that line appropriately, accurately, and then serenade me with Benny and the Jets.
Pull a Harry Burns. Be snarky when we meet but somehow still intriguing, slowly, inexorably become my new dude BFF, and one night, probably vaguely drunken (with tears, sure, but also probably wine - this is after all my life), be so nice to me that when you kiss me I pull you back into it and even though suddenly you think it might be a bad idea, because it might ruin the friendship - go for it.

Somehow we ended with a sad part anyway. Although maybe the only sad thing is how incredibly predictable I am after all these years.

And we're back!

2011-11-21T11:44:00.000-05:00

So.

I have (nearly almost one hundred percent kind no really) finished the edit of my blog. I know. The news you have been WAITING for!

But seriously. I'm done (ish).

This was all prompted by a date I went on back... whenever I disappeared. He's a lovely gentleman, we were laughing, doing that new-person thing where you tell your good stories but not your best ones and certainly not your worst. At some point he was telling me about this relationship he has with a bartender in my 'hood that had me in floods because he was excellent at recounting the guy's speaking pattern, when suddenly I realized the reason I knew this because I also knew the guy.

Hm.

Now, ok. That didn't have to mean anything - as I said, he works a few blocks from me, and oh right, at a bar. It's not like I'm a stranger to drinking establishments. But the reason I know this bartender is the DC blogging community, and between his job in techy stuff, and him being a self-avowed internets savant, the cogs starting turning.

But 2 minutes later.

He was finishing up his story and he mentioned a friend of his. A friend who has a relatively unique name. Which is the name of a friend of mine. Who is a DC blogger.

And then the cogs clicked into place.

I asked - wait, are you talking about UniqueName LastName? And he was. And then we did the "wait do you know soandso" thing and he did and I did and while it wasn't awkward it was a FIRST. Because then he asks, "wait - so are you a blogger?"

Eep.

And I laughed it off and said no, yes, no and he laughed and that was sort of that. Except in this day and age, I'd almost judge him if he didn't do the post-date text to mutuals being like "so wait - what's up here?"

Cause I know I did.

It's things like this that make me wonder if it's even worth it to be anonymous. Which it is, because I'm ok with the people I date and the people I'm friends with and most of the people I'm related to knowing that this place exists, but coworkers and future employers and people I'm NOT yet dating should probably have a harder time finding me.

However.

Given that it's really not impossible, not at all, to find me, I sort of had a "yanno..." moment. You know. "Yanno, maybe things I thought back in 2007 aren't as relevant today. Yanno, I've learned a bunch in the past 4 years and sort of sound like an idiot sometimes. Yanno, it's not really necessary for people in my life to be able to read my bad stories before I've even told them the great ones."

So - edit. Done.

It took forever because I decided to use the opportunity to just streamline the whole thing. Everyone's names are now consistent throughout (I think) and there may be a whole Cast of Characters page in the near future. Tags are for the most part descriptive but general so it's not like my real life where I have three thousand ways of saying the same thing (I hope), and maybe we'll even see a tag cloud (wait. Do people do those anymore?). Anyway, the last part of the revamp is as of right now, I'm going by MA.

Hi guys! I'm MA!

That is one of the many nicknames my IRL friends have for me, and I don't know if it's dumb to use it, but I DO know that (almost) everything on here (I really REALLY am pretty sure) is stuff that anyone can read, should they find me. Bosses, boyfriends, exes, and randos. You, my mom, my neighbor.

Still Mom - don't read. Cmon.

And so the next time (if there is one) when I meet someone and we do the "who do you know" game and it turns out we have a blogger in common, I won't freeze up and wonder - crap. What have I said? And what did I say in 2007 about bowel movements?! Not that I think people are necessarily looking for that shit.

That's a lot of words for poop.

But I would be. Slash am. In life? So I took the precautions just in case the person reading this right now is my coworker to whom I owe a memo. Oops, friend. Getting to that next.

Happy Veteran's Day!

2011-11-11T17:05:00.000-05:00

I'll be back - for real this time - Monday. For now, I just want to say that I know I can be jaded about what American "means" or "is" or "wants". I may scorn those people or causes that wrap themselves up in a flag and a bow and say they are "real" America. I definitely deride anyone who thinks American is one, specific version of itself.

But that should never be mistaken as being jaded/scornful/derisive of our troops.

We live in an age of a volunteer army, which sometimes I hate (too easy to go to war?) but deep down love because I know none of my loved ones will die defending our country. That's terrible, but it's true, and at the end of the day I honor and respect our troops and their families more than anyone else, because they do what I cannot. Thank you for keeping us safe, whatever that means, and for truly laying your life down for America:

as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough

(e.e. cummings)

2011 Halloween Playlist

2011-10-26T16:15:00.001-04:00

Uh, I know this isn't a standard post, but I've been working on a playlist for a Halloween party this Saturday and it was ridic hard, so I'm sharing what I found with you. This is a mixture of pop/rock/oldies/theme songs, and by no means should be taken as all-inclusive (I had a time constraint of "Halloween" vs "Awesome Dance" songs). Without further ado, here:

Hedwig's Theme (by John Williams, for Harry Potter) -
Are You Afraid of the Dark (theme song from the show) -
Come Little Children (by John Williams/James Debney, for Hocus Pocus. The version I'm using is sung by Kate Covington, who also performs under the name Erutan) - Also, there appears to be some debate as to whether or not Edgar Allan Poe wrote the song but really? It's not like Poe at all? I'm confused.
Halloween (theme song from the movie) - This is the scariest song in the world. In the universe, really. Ever. Times infinity. And a bag of terrifying chips. These kids in my high school band would play it on the xylophone and it would scare the crap out of me every single time. I'm shuddering right now.
This is Halloween (Panic! At the Disco) - a GREAT version of the song from the movie Nightmare Before Christmas. Sidenote: I bet Tim Burton is one scary ass motherfucker.
Creep (Radiohead) - This is the part of the playlist when I hope people start paying attention to the songs, cause I'm transitioning over to dance music so that the party can get started. No worries, I plan that I will have had enough of my friend's champagne cocktail (with pomegranate seeds so they look like bloody teeth - eek) that I won't yell at people to start paying attention. I think.
Monster Mash (Bobby Pickett) - well, duh.
Ghostbusters (theme song from the movie) - I just this this is so fun! Also, I'm totally bummed I didn't get to see it this year when it was back in the theatres.
Time Warp (performed by the Rocky Horror Picture Show film cast) - also, duh, but probably only if you're in my family. Michael and I heard it a lot at sleepaway camp we went to in NJ in 1996, then it's huge in misfit circles like my marching band in high school (man. You guys are getting some weird info about me today, aren't you?) PLUS my fabulous uncle D2 decided it would be a good idea to lie on the floor dancing to this song at my uncle D3's wedding. Amazing!
Beetlejuice (theme song from the show) - MORE 90s! Love it.
Everyday is Halloween (Ministry) - I found this song in my looooong search for good musice, and I have to say, it's great.
Thriller (Michael Jackson) - well right. And we're about to switch into dance mode, but not without some Thriller!
Disturbia (Rihanna) - I love this song not only because of my deep abiding love for Rihanna, but also cause my sister sang this in her a cappella group in college as the soloist, and I love my sister. So there ya go, that's a good reason?
Calling all the Monsters (China Anne McClain) - I think this is a song by some Disney starlet but it's cute, it's about monsters, and it'll be the best transition into some J. Lo Papi, amiright?

Happy Adult Halloween!

Happy Weekend!!!

2011-10-14T17:21:00.002-04:00

Swallow it down - what a jagged little pill

2011-10-13T15:54:00.004-04:00

It's sort of ridiculous that I haven't finished my mini blog project, but it's even more ridiculous that probably you won't notice MUCH of a difference when I do finish. I figure there's a good chance it'll be done by Monday, though, so stay tuned.

Onto today!

I've been vacillating between posting about this and not, and clearly, posting won. I know I've been vague about how it all ended with Grad School Ex, and the reason for that is cause the ending WAS vague. In early July we decided it was time to start seeing other people, and then he left the country. Then I left for Michael and Alexis' (this is a change! See! Some of them have occurred) wedding and vacation with my family, then we both we were back and it ended for real.

Ish.

There was one spectacularly attractive night (oh Irene) where I drank too much and decided it would be a great idea to march myself over to his apartment, to which I still had keys, and tell him that I knew he had been on a date the night before. I wish I didn't "know" this shit - Anne for one likes to tell the story of when we were going to get massages for her birthday and I told her I knew - I KNEW - that my Evil Corp Ex was getting it on with a new coworker. She told me I was being paranoid, and yet I was right.

It's the worst sixth sense. Couldn't I have ESP about other things?! Lotto numbers FTW!

Anyway, I woke up at 7am completely mortified, and when he woke up we cleared his apartment of almost all my stuff accumulated over the course of 2+ years. We had brunch, said goodbye, and that could have been it.

But.

He wants to be friends. And I guess I do too? But a place where I care about his opinion on something like peace in the Middle East because he knows his shit, rather than because it's HIS opinion, is still far off. And we really can't be friends until then. That hadn't stopped him from reaching out, suggesting dinner, iming me, messaging me to let me know he sprained his ankle (Becca was in town and she was piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissed. It was actually kind of hilarious to watch).

So.

He still had two of my things - the aforementioned orchids and my 4th season of Friends. And I was cleaning house in preparation for my parents' visit this past weekend, and I sort of wanted them back. Also, in cleaning my house I found a bunch of his shirts that I had collected over the years and didn't need my mom to ask questions. Friday morning, I reached out and suggested a trade.

Yeah. That might have been a mistake.

My email was... well. He'd say awkward and I'd say cautious. Ramona was competing in her very first half iron man (AND ROCKED IT) Saturday, and she lives nearby so I wanted to drop off her little good luck wishes. I offered to come over that evening if he didn't have, ehem, other plans and assuming no one, ehem, female was going to be there. He was like - why don't you just come over now and we'll sort it out. I did, and in the course of trading, we chatted about life, things, and eventually he was like "so do you have anything you want to ask." I said no, did he have anything he wanted to ask me. He said no. And we just sorta of stared at each other, a small smile playing on his lips. So I took the bait.

That was DEFINITELY a mistake.

"Ok fine, are you seeing anyone?" I asked. And he is. Not only that, he's seeing her exclusively. Now don't get me wrong, I'm seeing people, but certainly not anyone exclusively. It had been six weeks. Do you go from 2 years to new significant other in 42 days?

Well. I don't.

Even given that the summer had been more influx than even the last year we had been together, we're stil talking two, two-and-a-half months. Maybe boys are different, maybe he cared less about me than I thought, and maybe she just showed up at the right time.

Whatever the reason, I was incredibly hurt.

And I was sort of at a loss as to why. It wasn't as though I was devastated - on the contrary, I think this was probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. For a while my friends/therapist have been trying to coax me away from the version of Grad School Ex I had written in my head, how wonderful he was and how sweet and kind and how well he knew me, etc. I'm not saying he's a bad guy, but he's definitely not the god among men I still kind of thought he was on Thursday. He's comparatively a child (at best) and at worst - the bad things that my friends said about him (against which I deFENDed him) may be true.

The rose-covered veil has fallen.

Sure, Dan is probably right when he said "well it would have been nice if you had realized this when he was treating you like crap but better late than never, I suppose" and I laughed, not cried. But still. Hurt was the primary emotion, and even almost a week later it's probably still 50-50 between that and relief. And I just kept being like - but why, but why, but why.

And then I listened to some Alanis.

Ms. Morissette's "Head Over Feet" was my song with Grad School Ex, from pretty much the beginning. Despite being yoooooooung (twenty-four in a week) he loves himself some 90s music, and clearly I am a bebe du 90s. So when we were driving home from the first weekend he met my entirely family, and Alanis came on the 90s station singing "you're my best friend, best friend with benefits", and he reached across the console and grabbed my hand (and and and) - can you blame me if I melted straight into that seat?

Well. CAN you?!

It's been a leeeeettle hard to listen to AM since the break-up (I'd say... the one in July. I think. Maybe August? Or last December? Or the July before that?!) but I was Over. It. I hate having things ruined by ex boyfriends, like 24 (Evil Corp Ex, Grad School Ex) or...

Well ok maybe that's it. Also, yanno, it's sort of dumb after that first season.

Anyway! I refused to let my... teenagerhood be taken away by some kid who once upon a time I loved for a little while. And so I put on Head Over Feet and I sniffled, and then I rocked out to Hand in my Pocket, and giggled about the music video for Ironic (it was soooooo good) and wistfully sang along to Perfect.

Cmon. You know where this is going.

However, it wasn't until You Oughta Know came over my speakers that I realized I had been an idiot to not think of these reasons earlier. Not that Grad School Ex had been you know, duplicitous in any particular way - he said he didn't want a serious relationship, which after 2 years ours certainly was. But to have started an exclusive (EXCLUSIVE) relationship with someone so quickly after we finally ended it once-and-for-all?

"It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced."

So thank you Alanis. Now that I've identified the cause of the hurt, I'm pretty sure I can go back to being the best thing he'll never had, vis a vis Beyonce. My girls, they have my back.

Bonjour amici miei!!

2011-10-11T08:48:00.003-04:00

So yeeeeeeeeah still not done with the revamp. So let's talk about something else.

...

Uh. Ok!! I got it!! Reason #45089 I'm not a good adult: I can't repot plants. I have these two beautiful orchids I got from my friend Julie and both of them were due for a repotting, so I strapped on my "fake it til you make it" cap, pulled on my "I am my green-thumbed grandmother's granddaughter" gloves, and bought some soil.

Then I ruined my bathroom.

Ok, ruin is a bit harsh, since it's fixable with a lot of Drano, bleach and a good 5 hours of work. suffice it to say - repotting a plant in the shower, especially when bark is a big part of the soil mixture, is not the smartest idea ever.

In fact, it's damn near idiotic.

My shower, my vacuum cleaner, my sink were all out of commission for somewhere between 12 and 36 hours. I still am not sure I cleaned up all the dirt, and it's sort of not the point to get dirtier in the shower than you were to begin with. All I can think is that thank GOD my parents were here this past weekend and not this coming one, because I think the sight of my bathroom would give my poor father a heart attack.

But on the up side, I repotted the orchids!!

Now let's just see if I killed them by doing so. Sigh. Reason #45090 - I can't keep living things alive.

Amended 30 Things

2011-10-10T13:25:00.001-04:00

Alright that prior list blew, I think we all can agree. So I've updated it. I took out the movie obsession and tightened up the rules for things. I also put in a few things I know there's a good chance of me doing, but that are hard. Because it's my list and I'll cheat if I wanna.

1. ~~Finish getting all 50 state quarters in my "special rules" way.~~
2. ~~Get thee to Texas.~~
3. Re-take French.
4. Make bed every day for a month (Was Finally see the Magnificent Seven.)
5. ~~Friend one of the recent exes (there are two options) on Facebook.~~
6. Skinny dip.
7. (Was Walk through Bedford Stuy alone.)
8. ~~Sing "House of the Rising Sun" in public. Karaoke is ok.~~
9. Get to my great-grandmother's, grandfather's, and former teacher's graves and put pretty flowers on them.
10. ~~Buy "Elegance"-worthy lingerie. I'm thinking La Perla.~~
11. ~~Go properly camping. Once.~~
12. Have a BMI less than 25 (this has to be true AT my 30th birthday. It would also help if it were true for my 28.5th birthday, ie when I'm assuming my 10th year reunion is).
13. For real learn to knit. In fact, knit a scarf and a hat.
14. Try a new hairstyle (Was Memorize Moonlight Sonata on the piano.)
15. Do Story Corps with my grandmother and grandfather.
16. Find a steady volunteer gig (Was Watch Schindler's List. The entire thing.)
17. Get published, even if it's a 250 word silly block in Cosmo entitled, "How to lick your man's nipples."
18. Read two of Joyce's novels.
19. Go to the top of the Sears Tower
20. Finish my family tree (well, you know. Make it easy to add to). Can be done on Geni.
21. Get to either the Southwest, the Pacific Northwest, or the North for a trip (Was Go on a road trip. Can be done via bus or train (you know, gas won't always be at $1.37) - hah. Remember when gas was like, $2.37?? Me neither)
22. ~~Volunteer for 100 hours~~
23. Get personally shopped for, at least once.
24. Start a garden (can be community, shared with friends, etc) (Was Stay at the Waldorf Astoria.)
25. ~~Go to a new foreign country.~~
26. Read Don Quixote and the Inferno in the original languages.
27. Watch all the movies in the AFI's top 10 list (To be clear! This was based on the original list. So that means ~~Citizen Kane~~, ~~Casablanca~~, ~~The Godfather~~, Gone with the Wind, Lawrence of Arabia, ~~The Wizard of Oz~~, ~~The Graduate~~, On the Waterfront, Schindler's List, ~~Singin' in the Rain~~)
28. Get to another continent (so Africa, Asia, Australia or Antarctica) (Was Go to Edinburgh and don't "stalk" JK Rowling, but you know, tour a few coffee shops.)
29. In a similar vein, find and purchase first editions of the Harry Potters I'm missing. (Update: I would love this to be possible, but I'm not sure my finances will make it happen)
30. Run a half marathon (Was Go a mile on a hippity hop.)

Untitled for Lack of Creativity

2011-10-10T11:24:00.002-04:00

Happy either Italian-American Pride Day or Day We Remember How Much We Fucked Over the Native Americans, aren't we GREAT?

Or just Columbus Day, whatever.

I'm making some changes to the blog hopefully as of tomorrow, so I've been working on that while I disappeared (wow. I wrote disapparated twice before getting it right. I think that's my subconscious' way of telling me it's time to reread HP!!!). In making said changes, I realized I haven't updated my 30 things... thing (?) since January 2010. Which is a long time. And I'm about a year and a half out, so it's a perfect time to call me on my shit!!

So here's that (if you know, any of you are paying attention instead of enjoying the day off oh so many of you have today) and I'll be back tomoooooooooorrow.

30 things to do before I turn 30
1. ~~Finish getting all 50 state quarters in my "special rules" way.~~
2. ~~Get thee to Texas.~~
3. Re-take French.
4. Finally see the Magnificent Seven.
5. ~~Friend one of the recent exes (there are two options) on Facebook.~~
6. Skinny dip.
7. Walk through Bedford Stuy alone.
8. ~~Sing "House of the Rising Sun" in public. Karaoke is ok.~~
9. Get to my great-grandmother's, grandfather's, and former teacher's graves and put pretty flowers on them.
10. ~~Buy "Elegance"-worthy lingerie. I'm thinking La Perla.~~
11. ~~Go properly camping. Once.~~
12. Have a BMI less than 25 (this has to be true AT my 30th birthday. It would also help if it were true for my 28.5th birthday, ie when I'm assuming my 10th year reunion is).
13. For real learn to knit. In fact, knit a scarf and a hat.
14. Memorize Moonlight Sonata on the piano.
15. Do Story Corps with my grandmother and grandfather.
16. Watch Schindler's List. The entire thing.
17. Get published, even if it's a 250 word silly block in Cosmo entitled, "How to lick your man's nipples."
18. Read two of Joyce's novels.
19. Go to the top of the Sears Tower
20. Finish my family tree (well, you know. Make it easy to add to). Can be done on Geni.
21. Go on a road trip. Can be done via bus or train (you know, gas won't always be at $1.37)
22. ~~Volunteer for 100 hours~~
23. Get personally shopped for, at least once.
24. Stay at the Waldorf Astoria.
25. ~~Go to a new foreign country.~~
26. Read Don Quixote and the Inferno in the original languages.
27. Watch all the movies in the AFI's top 10 list
28. Go to Edinburgh and don't "stalk" JK Rowling, but you know, tour a few coffee shops.
29. In a similar vein, find and purchase first editions of the Harry Potters I'm missing.
30. Go a mile on a hippity hop.

One final thought: I'm not sure I'm more disappointed with the quality of this list (seriously. What was I thinking?!) or the fact that I was only able to cross 2 more things off my list. Whatever.

Always a Bridesmaid

2011-09-27T17:31:00.002-04:00

It's been a long time gone now, hasn't it? I'm hoping that this will be just another dry spell, rather than a symptom of my time being used elsewhere (maybe more details on that later). I suspect it is that I am a mixture of exhausted by the end of my days, super into shows that are finally back from hiatus, and sort of at a loss for words.

Because a lot of them are personal.

And I hate to feel like I'm sort of writing for someone else, whoever that "someone" is. Like, the other day when Jezebel had a posting on those douches out in California who sold cupcakes at "affirmative action" prices, I was like "I'm indignant about this!" but that was it. My next thought was "should I be indignant about this on the blog? And the answer is no, because if that was my only reaction, then that's life.

That was a terrible example. But maybe that's my point?

Anyway, I've been meaning to post THIS one for a long time, so let's DO it. And hopefully I'll be back tomorrow or Thursday. Cause I MISS you guys. And I hate it when we don't chat for a while. So... see you SOON.

I hope.

11 in "11" - Wedding Recap 4 or 5, depends on how you're counting

Who: my best friend Maria, aka my former roommate from Chicago and all around wonderful lady
What: Catholic ceremony at a chapel on (I think?) the campus of Duke University, followed by a reception at the Duke Gardens
Where: Durham, NC (just in case you thought I meant the Duke Gardens in Hillsborough, NJ)
When: September 2011
Why: because Maria is tied for the position of favorite non-family-member in my life. Because she has improved it (my life) infinitely, not only through being my friend and by being the nicest person I know, but because she brings joy EVERYWHERE she goes.
How: was picked up and then shuttled around for the weekend by Caroline and her husband, who were both incredibly kind and patient even while Joey and I drunkenly demanded things from the backseat (such as "PROVE TO ME THAT IT IS ILLEGAL TO DRINK IN THE BACKSEAT IN NORTH CAROLINA! YOU CANNOT!")
Drink(s) of choice: the champagne I wheedled out of the bartender and day-of coordinators. To be far, the first bottle I won was because I beat Joey at the "dollar dance" game (I had Maria, she had the groom). But the rest were wheedled!
Highlight: oh. I don't know. Being with my best friends for three plus days. Learning how to do the Move Your Body dance with the groom's VERY white relatives. Having the VERY white groom kick all of our asses (ok, save Maria's) at the dougie. Maria's crazy family. My crazy Joey. Toasting the bride and groom without once cursing or embarrassing them (Joey didn't get off so easy, whoops). Flirting with the super cute DJ. Getting to know Caroline's husband even more than we knew each other when we lived in the same city (he is awesome, btw). Caroline making me run, because she loves me. Showing up with our own glasses of champagne to brunch on Sunday. Long late night talks with Joey. Seriously. Those. But the utter highlight was when Maria at 3am on her WEDDING NIGHT decided it was time to come visit...
... This requires some explanation. It was a day wedding, so around 5 (or 6, I really don't know) we headed back from the reception to the hotel for a nap (me and everyone else who was sane), sexy time (the bride and groom) and an 8 mile run (my psycho friend Joey). Afterwards we all met up for drinks around 9pm (meaning 10pm in my time) and laughed and recounted and drank and laughed and laughed. Around 1am Caroline/husband/Joey/I decided it was time to call it a night (the hangover was threatening to overcome me) and we headed back, leaving Maria with her parents, her new husband, and a few sundry friends. We get back to the hotel, say goodnight to Caroline/hubby, and chat for a bit - then Joey falls asleep. At this point I start to slowly start to fall under Morpheus' spell myself, except then Maria texts me to tell me that her father has just ordered more shots.

It was 2am.

We text back and forth for the next 45 minutes, when she finally persuades everyone to leave and tells me "I had to drink [her father's] whiskey so we could go". I responded, "sounds like a fair deal" and then nothing. After about 10 minutes I once again began to pass out when there was a sudden - and LOUD - KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! at my door. I knew I was either about to be in for the best or worst surprise of my life, so I approached the door with some trepidation. I peered out the little door hole thing and there, shockingly, was a gorgeous head of hair replete with big ass white flower. I threw open the door and said "ok, now we have to wake up Joey". And we did. And we laughed. And we asked where her husband was, and did he know she was here? And she with wide "innocent" eyes was all "I dunnoooooooooo" (it turns out she had ran off when they got back to the hotel and someone shouted afterwards "runaway bride!" - she gave them the thumbs up. No worries though, the groom was off talking to her brother about how to get into their apartment). Suddenly the door knocks again and this time Joey answers it with "I think this belongs to you?" The groom walked in, Joey joined me and Maria in my bed, and I said "I mean, you're part of the family now. You might as well get in."

AND HE DID!!!!
Lowlight: Leaving. I cried. A lot.
Music grade: I'm giving the DJ a solid A because he was ridiculously hot and wanted my number and all those good things. But to be honest, I don't remember the music at all. I look like I was having fun in the pictures, so I'm going to go ahead and say he was good. But I do. Not. Remember.
Lessons learned:

Being sacrilegious during a Catholic ceremony (ie, daring the Mormonish Joey to take communion under the watchful Catholic eyes of Caroline) does NOT get you smited!
Priests don't think I'm as funny as I do.
I know I've talked about my theory of weddings being a mixture of music, other people, and open bar, but this wedding taught me something else - friends. The type of friends, the number of them, and your ability to have the best effing time with them, evAR? It matters. I love my grad school friends, but these girls are my FAMILY. And it showed.
Cool photographers are fun. And stern looking wedding photos look HAWT.
When below the Mason Dixon line, wear your hair big and your make-up thick, cause otherwise they are gonna KNOW you're a yankee.

One more wedding guys. This one is gonna be another doozy. And I'm almost sad it'll be my last dance, last chance for looooooooooooooooove. Yes it'll my last chance for romaaaaaaaaaaaance that one day in Octooooooooooooooooober.

09.13.2001

2011-09-13T14:47:00.008-04:00

The Daily Show

i CAN'T be the worst... can i?

2011-09-08T18:58:00.001-04:00

So.

I had a dentist appointment on Tuesday morning, and it didn't go well. I mean, ok, it didn't go terribly. But I like having no cavities and was very proud to have had none in my adult teeth cause I'm the type of person who is proud of being tall or other things I had not a ton to do with.

Until last year when I got a BIG un.

That sorta sucked, but my dentist was like "oh you're in your late 20s? Yeah that's when tooth decay starts to happen." Well, thanks? I guess? Like the way I thanked my orthodontist when he told me not to take off my bonded retainer because my smile was so nice and if I ever got married wouldn't I like to have that beautiful smile? Jackass.

Still - I like things not being because of me.

And yet this year I worked harder than I had in years past to make sure my gleaming whites (fine, off whites) stayed that way. No I didn't floss. That shit hurts. But I did brush a great deal, for the recommended 2 minutes, and sometimes I even gargled and crap like that.

Yeah it didn't work.

Two more cavities (teensy ones, but STILL) and a package of floss later, I was appropriately humbled. The dentist was like "wow. Your gums are SWOLLEN!" When she left I asked the dental assistant if they were terrible and she was like "no, I've seen worse, but you know, gum problems lead to teeth loss."

Merci. Bitches.

But still I was comforted cause she had seen WORSE. That is music to my ears (don't worry, I definitely take care of those babies). I HATE being the worst at things. I mean, obviously I prefer to win at all times, but if I can't win I certainly don't want to LOSE. Unlike Monica in Friends who is happy to give the best bad massages, I prefer "middle of the pack" than "absolutely best at being worst" in things like dental hygiene. Don't get me wrong. I LOVE being unique/center of attention/spotlighted in most places in life. But at the dentist's, as well as gynecologists' and podiatrists' offices, waxing appointments, whilst getting pedicures, I'm content to be just OK.

Do you see the theme

I have (relative to previous times in my life) highish self esteem. I'm pretty smart. Since I've been running, my body looks much less squishy that it has in the past. And that dude on my bus is right - I like my aaaaaaaaaaaaass in my jeans. But going to doctors' offices, or beauty places (dentist is kind of both, amiright?!), especially where there is a potential "ick" factor, the massively insecure person takes over and is like "holyshitholyshit Dr. FillintheBlank and InsertRussianNameHere are judging the SHIT out of me! I will never be able to come back here again! It took me a good five minute on Yelp/Google/Twitter to find this person and now I'm going to have to do it AGAIN!" It takes some serious "cannot possibly be the worst they've ever seen" to calm me down. So much so that I've looked up fungal infections on toes (ew), ingrown hairs on.. other places (ew ew) and weird conditions for feet, bajingos and yes, teeth, just to convince myself of my mediocrity.

Vom vom EW vom.

But it works every time. I have been going to the same dentist since moving here, the same gyno since I got off my terrible grad school insurance and the same pedicurist and wax... lady? since I found their cheap, efficient, lasting services. Even the second time I went to said amazing waxer, and I heard her ask the girl after me "are you hairy today? Everyone's been hairy!" it comforted me to know that while that while yes, it had been 2 months since my last appointment (I KNOW IT HURTS LESS IF YOU DO IT EVERY MONTH leave me alone) that "everyone" was right there with me.

I'm memorable (either way) in most things. But in "icky" situs - I'm glad to be anonymous.

I am hungry.

2011-08-31T11:33:00.001-04:00

And that's about it for now?

Beyoncé as Life Coach

2011-08-25T13:28:00.005-04:00

Guys.

Beyoncé is fucking badass. No seriously. I love that girl. S'always been true, every since I would blast Destiny's Child as I was waiting in the half mile long line to pull into my high school's parking lot. God, "Say My Name" - SO GOOD! It was such a RELEASE to sing at the top of my lungs "if no one is around you, say 'baby I love you'"!!! Hm. Why yes my cheaty ex boyfriend DID live in front of the high school.

How ever did you know?

Anyway, ever since 2000/2001 I've been obse-hessed with Ms. Knowles, and am not ashamed to admit that I often look to her for advice. In college, my body WAS too "Bootylicious" for several boys, and "Survivor" carried me through the eventual (4th of 4) break-up with aforementioned cheaty ex boyfriend. I would go so far as to say "Independent Woman: Part I" (and all the other ones I mentioned) highly informed my college-age formation of my feminism, and if that makes me shallow or not curious enough, well fine. (I'd adopt a slightly defensive tone right now but I'm channeling B.) I've read Betty Friedan, Eve Ensler, Sojourner Truth, Simone de Beauvoir, and of course Gloria Steinem but no one speaks to me like Beyoncé.

And I'm alright with that.

More recently, I've followed the Knowlesian school of thought through her redo-for-FLOTUS of "Get Me Bodied," now known as "Move Your Body". That song gets me to the gym, it gets me to keep running when I'm exhausted, and it gets me up and dancing around my house after a long workout.

In other words, it's nothing short of a miracle.

So it should come as no surprise that as I slowly extricate myself from the remnants of a three year long relationship varying from "ZOMG, SO IN LOVE" to "zooooomg so SAAAAAAAD" and to "zomg? so confused?" I turn to Beyoncé once again for guidance.

And I have not been disappointed.

I know I haven't been talking about my "love life" (or lack thereof) recently, and so I'm sorry if this seems confusing. Quick update: it is officially time for Grad School Ex and I to go separate ways. To be clear, I love him just as much as I did yesterday, last month, last year and when we first started dating (and probably more so) but there comes a time in every girl's life when she says "alright. Enough."

My time is now.

Nothing specific happened, except for maybe some excellent therapy and alone time that made me realize - hey. I'm sort of awesome! And this situation is not. I need to be with someone who wants to be with me in five years, even we don't end up together for more than five months. It's the potential that is necessary, or maybe even just the ability to look forward and say "yeah. That'd be nice!"

And he can't give me that.

Which is fine, honestly. I don't doubt his feelings for me (well, mostly) and I don't doubt he has every intention of not wanting to hurt me. I don't have as much confidence in mySELF however, to prevent him from inadvertently doing so. I tend to fall into the "this is so great, who cares if the long term potential is near nil? I'll deal with that tomorrow" camp, and at some point this summer I realized that just wasn't working anymore. It is time to grow some proverbial balls, end whatever this was that's going on between us, and confidently face being alone and sometimes lonely so that I can find someone who loves me as much as I deserve.

I am woman hear me RAWR.

So of COURSE I would turn to Beyoncé in my time of need. She is the ultimate life coach! When I'm apprehensive about Grad School Ex's reaction if I started dating someone, all I need to do is put on "Single Ladies". When I feel nervous that I'm all wrong, and watch too much WHMS ("at least you could say you were married") I queue up "Irreplaceable" on my ipod and let the rhythms roll defiantly over me.

"I could have another you in a minute; matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute."

And then Beyoncé - sweet, wonderful Beyoncé - did something even better for me. Her latest (I think?) single, "Best Thing I Never Had" certainly isn't identical to my experience (like, at all). But it captures fantASTically well the feelings I've been having lately.

Shocker.

The - dude. Seriously?! - type feelings. The "I've never met someone who'd be better for you than me" ones. And thoughts like "good luck finding anyone ever who will sample all the Trader Joe's dried mango to find the kind you like just cause." The sort of sentiments you have when someone's hurt you deeply, sure, but also ones that I have to believe can be true. Mostly because they've already BEEN true, at least for me. I went on a date in July that utterly lacked in chemistry. It was disappointing - the one thing Grad School Ex and I never lacked was chemistry. It makes you think, if this is so great, why the hell is it over?

In steps Beyoncé.

I imagine her sitting me down, handing me a cup of tea and some healthyish cookies (a nod to FLOTUS of course) and patiently, but methodically, taking me through everything I already know. Just cause this is great on the surface doesn't mean it isn't making you deeply unhappy when you think about your future in days and weeks rather than months and years. You're too old to be excited by drama. And when did he EVER go to Trader Joe's to sample the chocolate covered, peanut butter filled, items for YOU?!

Ok, she wouldn't say that (hello, calories!) and also, he is and was VERY good to me.

But that doesn't change the fact this is over, and I need to get on board with that sooner rather than later. So with my sad sack music (thank you Becca! Useless Desires and Let Him Fly are HIGH up on my most-played list) I shall intersperse Beyoncé. I know that won't stop me from occasionally calling Maria in tears, and having Anna and Dan ply me with wonderful/terrible champagne. I know that won't fix the (small) hole in my stomach that aches when it rains and when I see happy people strolling down Adams Mill Road at night. And I know, as always, the only way to truly feel better is to let time pass, and the only way to truly move on is to love someone else. But I hope.

No no. I KNOW.

That Beyoncé, as she has so many times in the past, will aid the process, or at absolute worst make it bouncier. And in the end I know I'll "thank [Beyoncé] I found the good in goodbye".

Update: the sky is falling! The sky is falling!

2011-08-23T21:40:00.001-04:00

I'm sure all y'all already read Lemmonex and don't need me to tell you you should.

BUT!

Just in case you were thinking of skipping her today, don't. Her post is... important. And meaningful. And the scary sad side of the earthquake today, not the funny "I got to have a stiff drink when I got home from work because DC peeps are fraidy cats!"

Ok there's some of that too.

But yeah. The cell phone service being out for as long as it was, and the booms, and the sirens, and the eerie lack of people on the streets in my neighborhood, and the general "ohhay! You're a person and so am I and so I won't look down at my cell phone I'll smile in relief at you instead", gave me flashbacks. It wasn't fun. It was, in fact, AWFUL. So you know, it's nice to have people like her who tell things well and make you smile wryly in recognition rather than just sipping your whiskey and wondering if you were the only one who felt that way, and also, if that feeling would ever go away.

EARRRRRRRRRRTHQUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!

2011-08-23T15:13:00.004-04:00

That was kind of scary wasn't it? It's been over an hour and I'm still shaky. I was in the West End Public Library and as the shaking started I sort of looked up and was like "seriously? Earthquake?" People started running and I found myself standing and being like "don't run! Just stay put until the shaking stops."

I have no idea where THAT came from.

Like so many others in DC we were immediately evacuated, so I walked over to my therapy appointment a few minutes early. Of course, they were ALSO evacuated, so I found my therapist (hilarious actually - "are you ok?" "Aren't I the one who is supposed to ask that?") and you know, canceled that. My office was (wait for it) evacuated so I went home, and became the 42 bus expert on earthquakes because I had twitter access.

I knew there was a reason I tweeted other than to talk about cougars!

Anyway, I'm home now and starting to recover (I hate that that's true, but I'd be lying if I said I was tooootes cooo with this shit). The white wine I'm sipping is helping. So is the whiskey that is clinking in my hand. My apartment was thankfully practically untouched (and Daddy, if you're reading this, yes, it might have actually helped the situation, I know you were dying to ask. Also, why the hell are you reading this, GO AWAY), although my wine shelf apparently shifted some so when I walked into the kitchen my bottle of wine from Budapest decided to jump to the floor.

Hungarian glass is STRONG dudes!

I know all you Califorrrrrnians (points to the winner!) are out there on your other coast judging us East Coast peeps (don't MAKE me get all Biggie on you bitches. Or something like that. Yes I had to wikipedia whether Tupac or Biggie was from the east, WHAT?!).

Uh, anyway.

But I'd like to see you all handle the hurricanes we do. Don't tell me about your hurricanes, cause trust me, I WATCH Hurricane Watch on the Weather Channel (and have since 1990, the summer that my father (DADDY GO AWAY) implemented his policy of absolutely no TV other than the Weather Channel in the summer policy) and I know what's what. Also, fine, ok, forget hurricanes. I have one, apostrophed word for you:

NOR'EASTERS.

They don't call them So'Calsters and they are DEADLY. S'not good. So you can take your smug, no-good keester (spelling?) off my property. And by property, I mean facebook feed.

In all seriousness, I know that people get hit a lot worse every day by nature and their fellow man. And I know that in Libya, a brutal dictator is falling, and we should prob just be thrilled that that happened, and maybe that I got to drink whiskey in the middle of the day.

But.

That was really scary for me guys. I hope it wasn't as scary for you. And I hope that that's enough nature throws at us for a little while. Hear that Hurricane Irene?! DON'T MAKE ME GET ALL... um... TALLIE SHORTS ON YOUR EYE.

I've lost you all now, haven't I?

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-08-19T13:40:00.001-04:00

Alright I was a little bummy yesterday so today's PWS is very very limited, and the PWR are pretty damn awesome. Happy weekend you guys!!

People Who Rock:

My famigs. They are le awesome;
Vang Thi Mai. She is brave, she is fearless, she is saving women. Read the article, and then join me in wishing we had more ladies like her;
Hamid Chaudhry, in a slightly different - dude, awesome - vein. I loooove people, and also? I loooooove ice cream. I just sorta want to hug Mr. Chaudhry and maybe offer up some babysitting services so he and his wife could enjoy a night out;
Tina Fey. My sister, a nonreader, has been enjoying Bossypants all week at the shore and that's damn impressive. Good job Ms. Fey!;
Jen Lancaster. I thought I had read her books before (based on the looooove from Arielle) but I haven't. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! She is simply awesome;
The manicurist who did my nails last Friday. They are still almost entirely intact. WHAT DID YOU DO?! Amazing; and
Elizabeth Warren. In times of bad and worse news coming from the District, and politicians everywhere really disappointing (Obama) or horrifying (Perry, Bachmann - yes even you my hombre-ette) finding out that a truly principled person (as far as I can tell) put in her name for Ted Kennedy's Senate spot just about made my day. One, yay EW. Two, anyone know if she needs some snarky staffers? Three - I realize there's potential for more disappointment here, I'm not an idiot (on this shit) but for now LET ME HAVE MY BLISSFUL HAPPINESS.

People Who Suck:

The Bayi Rockets;
[not today];
[whatevs];
[meh];
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five.

a house divided? a world divided.

2011-08-18T18:21:00.003-04:00

Things have really fallen in the pooper lately, haven't they?

Every morning when I wake up the first thing I do inevitably is read the latest news (yes, even if "latest" means "since I fell asleep 3 hours ago"). Recently during this morning ritual, without FAIL, I have been reminded old song by the Kingston Trio song, which I could pretend to know cause I'm cool but really have knowledge of due to Madeleine L'Engle (through Vicky Austin and Zachary Gray). The original version can be found here, but I've modified it a bit for current times:

They're rioting in London, they're starving in th' Horn
The Arabs want democracy; they're just met with scorn
The whole world is festering with unhappy souls
Republicans screw Democrats, the Dems have no goals
Japan is despoiled, over Norway there's a pall
And I don't have much hope at all

I don't mean to sound despondent (I mean, I take 150mg of anti-despondency a day, right?) but still, the world BLOWS these days. Terrorism, uprisings across the globe, some of which I agree with, and some of which I do not (I follow this lady's philosophy: if we're going to fight for a cause, let's fight for a fucking cause!). "Leaders" killing their people (I'm looking at you, Bashar, and you, Qaddafi) and "leaders" fucking their people over (Boehner, the Tea Party) and "leaders" letting them do it (Turkey, the USA, Saudi, etc and then Obama/Reid respectively). Our country, which is supposed to be some fucking shining light on a hill, had a lynching for chrissake the other day, and the Dow Jones is EVEN MORE bi fucking polar than it was TEN YEARS AGO.

You know. September 11, 2001.

However, the immediate resolution of all these problems really isn't going to mean much in the long haul. The riots stopped, calls for Al-Assad are growing daily so perhaps he will cease killing his own people (or be deposed), maybe just maybe 2012 won't be the debacle I'm pretty sure we're facing. It's possible the radiation will disappear for Japan, I suppose, and I guess Norway could mend their wounds. Somalia/Mississippi - I've got nothing. Maybe the Dow will go up 600 points tomorrow (in fact, I'm sure that'll be a low estimate) and we all will sing Hallelujah and Kumbaya.

But none of that really doesn't, and won't, change SHIT.

Unless we - and by we, I don't mean people in DC, or Americans, or wealthy entitled countries. I mean as the HUMAN RACE - decide that the destruction of our neighbor means our own inevitable destruction, we're going to wipe ourselves out before the meteors or expansion of the sun or aliens can.

And soon.

Sure, soon in the course of history means in the next millenium, but I don't care. I like people. I like that we think and care and are benevolent and all those science studies that differentiate us from apes. But lately (and again, lately can mean as far back as the 40s) it seems we are more concerned with winning than anything else. Lord knows I'm guilty of that more than many (I believe I just said "V FOR VICTORY" on the beach about my brother's wedding being hailed as the Event of the Year/Decade/Century/Millenium from some quarters. My dad said "who did we beat?" Everyone. Duh.) but the thing is, your mom/soccer coach/Red Sanders was right - winning ISN'T everything. Or maybe they should say BEATING the other guy isn't everything. Because if I beat someone - I meaning not so much your nemesis on the field but rather the corrupt banker, the monopolistic company, the political party, the dominant country, or whatever - that means someone is beaten.

And that someone is a HUMAN BEING.

I don't mean to go all "give peace a chance" hippy dippy on all y'all. But as you probably know from reading this blog (if you do. If you're new, hi! Usually I talk about relationships and booze, feel free to drop in again - tomorrow's post is much more in that vein), I've been reading and re-reading the Hunger Games lately. LOVE those books. And at some point in the third book (not really spoiler alert, but don't read if you're a good rememberer and want to be completely surprised about everything in the third book. Oh hell, whatever, spoiler alert) Peeta says something along the lines of we need to stop fighting before we kill ourselves off.

That Peeta is a smart work of fiction.

Because if we continue in this vein of beating, whether its physical (Mississippi, RIP James Craig Anderson), business (see: News of the World scandal. Banking collapses and financial crises from 2008 and on) sovereign (Israel/Palestine. Bahrain. Saudi Arabia. Libya, Syria, etc etc etc) or just good old politics (here's looking at you DC), at some point there will be no one left, because they were killed, bombed, beaten, destroyed, or just defaulted so hard that they sank like end of Pax Romana.

Nero fiddled, and that didn't get anyone ANYWHERE.

So here's my call, which albeit comes from a nonimportant blog and a nonimportant (well, I mean, whatever) person. As a much wiser man than I once said - can't we all just get along (Rodney King, you are awesome)? Please (that's my addition)? Let's prove the old song WRONG (and now I quote directly):

They're rioting in Africa, there's strife in Iran.
What nature doesn't do to us, will be done by our fellow man.

It's not too late people. Let's start giving a shit about the human race, and stop "beating" people - it's the only way we all win.

The Zit Whisperer

2011-08-16T14:21:00.002-04:00

So.

I've talked about how I like to pop zits before (apparently less than I thought, which is AWESOME because I'm about to a whole lot). The thing is, it's not just something I resign myself to because it's necessary. I LOVE doing it. It is immensely satisfying, so satisfying, that when I have nothing to pop I squeeze blackheads (cause there are always blackheads). I THINK about doing it when I have a particularly bad one but am in a place where I can't pop it right now. No joke, JK Rowling MAY have cemented her place in my permanent People Who Rock list when she described the bubotuber pus in the third book (if not then, then slightly later with the fight in the common room post-Yule Ball in book 4). In short - this is something I THOROUGHLY enjoy.

And if it stopped there, maybe that'd be OK.

Except it doesn't. Like, at all. I see a zit on someone else and I'm like ooooo that'd be a fun one. My poor baby sister has me and only me to apply suntan lotion this week and every time I pause to squirt out a bit more she tenses up because she thinks I'm going to start squeezing. I mean, cmon! Just because I lunged at her last week being like "LET ME POP IT" doesn't mean I can't restrain myself.

Well. Maybe.

The thing is, I'm GREAT at it. I know exactly how to make those bad boys go away. I have a memory of being in my lateish teens and sitting on the counter squeezing something while my brother watched me from the hall in fascinated horror. I said "now Mikey, what you have to do is make sure it bleeds because that means you've gotten all the gook out. If it's just leaky the clear stuff, it'll come back you mark my words.

And I was right.

It's not just the blood, because once I read if a zit bleeds too much you might have hit a capillary and that's no fun. But it's things like knowing when a zit should be squeezed vs popped vs dissected very very carefully with a cauterized needle. I pride myself on knowing when things shouldn't be popped as well - I learned the whole "cystic acne" lesson the hard way when I had a massive, continuously existing, pulsating, throbbing bump on my chin that WOULD NOT GO AWAY.

That was before I became the zit whisperer.

Now I'm your girl if you have acne on your face, back, arms, legs, ass. I know what kind of acid (glycolic vs salicylic) to be applied, where and when. I've tried all the home remedies like toothpaste and lemon juice and cucumbers. I've done the Acne Treatment (it's a book, and it's great), I was on Proactiv until it dried my entire face out so even water burned, and now I wash with Cetaphil and use a daily face lotion. I've picked, squeezed, jabbed, poked, popped and utterly defeated more zits than a 15 year old boy. I've never been on Accutane, but I know friends who have and who have LOVED it (slash been horrified by the pregnant ladies slashed out on the little white tabs in the box). I've done this for YOU. Well, no, I did it for me (and sometimes my mom) but that doesn't change the fact.

I'm a zit guru.

If only my skills were accepted as fabulous, rather than judged (for example, by my aforementioned sister) as "really weird". I mean, I don't sit here and cast aspersions on people for buying lots of clothes! Or for wanting to be vegan! Why are my habits so scandalous?!

I guess it's the bodily fluid thing, but I'm very careful. I wash my hands, I make sure my needles are properly sterilized, and I am kind! I kiss the boo boos after I'm done! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME.

That said, if you don't want to read my blog again, that's fine. But before you leave forever, just come here a sec... I see a really juicy blackhead that's calling my name.

Things I missed at some point in the last week

2011-08-15T18:48:00.001-04:00

In the run up to the wedding and my vacation (oh yeah I don't get to go on the honeymoon but the rest of my fam sans bro-n-sister in law are at the beach for a few days) I had real work to do and loooooots of tasks that had to be completed before leaving for the wedding. Blogging fell to the wayside (so did showering. Ew, I know) but that's a shame because a few things happened with the blog whilst I was gone:

The blog turned four! Happy blog...irthday? I got nothing.
You all hit a huge milestone with visitor amts! That number has a LOT of zeroes my friends!
The economy is dying. Or something. I have a feeling we might revisit that.
I got my nails done and they didn't chip on the first day. SUCCESS!
I met a boy, we fell in love, we got married and had kids. OR whatever, that didn't happen, except for in a weird dream I had that ended with a hostage situation in a house overlooking some verdant valley in SE Asia where I knew everything that was going to happen but couldn't tell anyone.
I read some books. I need some more to read. Please send suggestions.
That's it really. How have you been?

Best Wedding EVAAAAAAAAAAAR

2011-08-14T15:33:00.005-04:00

So.

My baby brother got married yesterday. I mean, he's not a baby anymore, cause that would be awkward and also probably illegal, but he is 1 year, 8 months and 26 days younger than I am and so he is and always shall be "little" to me.

Even though he is 6ft and I'm 5'6 on a good day.

Anyway, he got married to his lovely wife (!!!) Alexis at Columbia where they met as students at Barnard (she) and Columbia (he).

Roar Lion Roar.

And I can say, after much thought, reflection, and note-comparing (with myself) that it was absolutely the best wedding I have ever been to in my entire life, which at this point is a number approaching if not triple digits, something in the range of 50-75.

I'm not joking. I started very young.

Anyway, so that I don't just get sort of weepy that it's all over and that I DON'T get to now go to Hawaii (annoying), I think I'll go right into the recap.

11 in "11" - Wedding Recap 3

Who: my brother. Also, clearly, his wife. Met 8 years ago, started dating 2 years later, and are now married!
What: a secular ceremony on Columbia's campus
Where: New York, NY
When: August 2011
Why: uh, hello?
How: drove up to New Jersey la-ha-haaaate on Thursday night, tried to sleep it off at my parents' house (failed). Drove into the city with the fam (minus the groom obvi) on Friday for the rehearsal; stayed at the W in Union Square.
Drink(s) of choice: the signature cocktail (naming it would definitely out me, ehem) which was based on a bellini. Also, prosecco that I stole from the groom cause I'm a good sister like that.
Highlight: too many. The vows they wrote. The bridesmaids being just incredible human beings. Bagels for breakfast. My mom being tipsy at the rehearsal dinner. Meeting the other brother of the bride for the first time, plus his two kids. Stealing the child of one of my brother's friends because he was so sweet and so cute and so warm against my chest that it makes me want to cry now. Getting a card in the mailbox from Arielle when we got back to New Jersey. The best man's speech. THE BEST MAN'S SPEECH! Telling my lame(r) cousins it was time to get over themselves and dance. Dancing the tarantella. My brother dancing to Single Ladies. Them actually getting married, ie, being one of their official witnesses to the signing of the license. Post-reception pizza and karaoke. Forget that - the food at the reception!! PANCETTA!! But the absolute best part of the night for me was when we were eating and the DJ put on Billy Joel's Italian Restaurant. My siblings and I came up, started singing along and dancing (obvi we know all the words) and soon after the bride joined us (she had to put down her fork etc). The four of us danced like the crazy white people we are and sang and everyone watched and there is no part of that sentence that doesn't fill me with joy.
Lowlight: I wish this wasn't true, but for about 3 hours that morning my parents were getting very very sick. But in case anyone was wondering, Emetrol WORKS!!!! So that's it. If that's a lowlight.
Music grade: A++++++++++ DJ WAS AMAZING!! Actually, probably the bride was amazing, although the DJ was very good. Perfect mix (like, people kept commenting on it) of classic dance music for the first few hours, sprinkled with some Italian-American fabulousness and then BAM Beyonce, Miley, etc. I requested the Cha-cha slide which apparently wasn't supposed to happen (no line dances?) but it DID and everyone LOVED it and they ended with Billy JOEL and there was so MUCH Billy Joel and I AM SO HAPPY I CANNOT STAND IT.
Lessons learned:

August weather is fickle in New York, but if you're lucky, it's not too bad. Still - coulda been today. Eek! Rain everywhere.
Have water at the reception?
Day-of coordinators are KEY. KEY! They kept everyone on schedule and happy (and hydrated. I'm sorry I get thirsty!).
I might make my sister do a "reading" at my wedding (if it happens) in song, because she spoke a Sondheim song and it was fabulous, but she's got a really good voice.
Fake eyelashes are the shit.

A few more weddings this year that may not be blood, but are definitely "urban" fam. I can't wait until the next one, I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so SO so so happy!

Hole in my pants and other sundry things from my day

2011-08-03T16:18:00.001-04:00

I'm having a sort of weird day. Well, actually, it's been a weird week and it seems as though it's not just me. I'm gonna go ahead and bullet it out for all y'all, and then you guys should feel free to add what's weirding you out in the comments!

There are ants on my windowsill. I don't know where they're coming from. I'm assuming the window but there's not like, a telltale line of ants. All I know is I keep vacuuming them up, and they keep reappearing. It's like zombie ants or something.
Vacuum is a funnily spelled word. Why do I always, still, think it's spelled vacumn?
I've got an awesome whiteboard in my house that I use for to do lists, and I've now gotten to the point where everything on it is something I don't want to do. Here's how you know: I've been vacuuming or vacumning or WHATEVER everything that moves. And a bunch of things that don't.
Telling myself I can eat anything I want weirdly has resulted in my eating healthier than I have in a while. I think my mom would be happy to know that she's not the only one who my brain responds to with "you DON'T want me to do X? Oh just watch me do it. Right. NOW!"
There is a hole in the ass of the leggings I'm wearing right now. I didn't realize it until AFTER I had been to the grocery store, running store, post office, and landlord's office. Whoops. Hope you guys enjoyed the show?
I came back from said errands with 2 pints of Ben and Jerrys and a massive stick of body glide. I can't tell if this means I'm working out and I can now eat all the ice cream I want or if I maybe cut OUT the ice cream I wouldn't experience the chafing. Hm.
I moved someone's laundry from the washer to the dryer today, and I got ill at the thought of touching their (well, his) underwear. First of all, there weren't any briefs, boxers or anything IN the load. Second of all, it was coming out of the WASHING MACHINE. I'm squeamish. Who knew?
The air conditioner in the apartment above mine leaks and the leaks hit my airconditioner and spray into my apartment when I have my windows open. Do we think I'm going to get some sort of burn from all this A/C fluid? Or like, is it just water? Cause I spent 15 minutes thinking about this today.
I wonder if post paralegalling I will ever be able to think of my day in anything but 15 (or six if it's bankruptcy!) minute segments. It's been almost five years since I left the firm. This has to go away soon, right?
90s music was pretty much the best shit ever. Remember ska? I do. Remember emo before it was all wah wah? I DO. Why do musical artists suck these days?
Not you Rihanna. Or you Beyonce. You guys are my girls. Or something like that.

Also, I need feedback from you guys:

My lower back hurts and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I've tried every stretch I know and nothing works. Mostly, I feel like I'm getting my period except I'm def not. So - any tips?
I'm starting to get serious enough about running that I'm thinking of buying legit gear as opposed to my old DC Bocce and Corporate Challenge shirts. Aside from a ridiculously sturdy sports bra and something new like shorts or a running skirt to augment my wardrobe, and maybe one of those goofy water holders, what do I need?
I need new songs. I have like 16GB of music and everything sounds old. Help me!
What does "so I said I'm a snowball running" even mean? It doesn't make sense. Snowballs don't run damnit.
How do I stop thinking in short 1-2 sentence bursts? Cause this is starting to get old.

How do you like THEM apples?

2011-08-02T15:36:00.003-04:00

I'm feeling super opinionated these days, so all y'all should feel lucky that this is the first sort of partisany post you've gotten. XOXO:

Also. I LOVE MATT DAMON I WANT HIM TO MARRY ME EXCEPT HE'S GOT THAT WIFE AND LIKE FOUR DAUGHTERS SO FINE STAY WITH HER AND I'LL JUST SIT HERE AND PINE.

Love. LOVE. LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!

Today I learned a very important, very valuable lesson

2011-07-29T12:45:00.000-04:00

Even if you cover your smoke detector with a plastic bag (WHAT!) it will still go off in the case of a real smoke problem. The more you know!

Fail!

2011-07-28T09:08:00.002-04:00

I've been trying to elucidate thoughts on things lately and it hasn't been working. The debt crisis, ice cream, dreams, boys, life - I could be very wise, I swear, but apparently just not today.

Or ever, whateeeeeeeeeeeeeevs.

So instead I would like to talk bluntly about my inability to move my freaking hips. Last night I went to a zumba class with Anna and was reminded how terrible I am at any sort of latin dancing. I put this down to my level of whiteness (high) but unfortunately, my freaking sister is like a meringue queen (or at least she was that one time in the Dominican Republic during some poolside class. That counts, right?). So clearly there's something else at work here. I've come up with some options:

Body chubb getting in the way.
Massive self consciousness.
Neurons firing the wrong way.
Not enough poolside lessons.
Thinking too much about it.

I'll concede that some of these seem to be, you know, very similar, but I would disagree. Thinking too much might sound like massive self consciousness, but really it's not. Self consciousness is going "shit I look terrible, shit I look terrible" while thinking too much is "ok, her left food is angled at 45 degrees but mine is only at 40. Fuck!".

Yeah. I do both.

I also would think that lessons might help (I put an enormous amount of faith in doctors and education. I probably trust both too much, but c'est la viiiiie. Until it's la moooooooooorte because you got some shitty doctor and listened to them. Ok that crossed the line on morbidity, I agree), but when I have tried with good friends to get them to teach me to hip dance in any way shape or form, it is not pretty.

Simply put, my hips lie.

As for the body chubb, this has always been a problem (even when I was teeny tiny) so I doubt that's THAT large of a factor. So I'm left mostly with the thinking stuff, which leads me to believe that it is a neurons thing.

Because I'm smart like that and clearly know what I'm talking about.

But honestly, maybe it's my brain that's screwing me over here! It's trying to be all cool and shit, but like one of those try-too-hard kids in 80s movies, it over does it or plain fails. My brain is telling my hips "to the left to the left - see? I know Beyonce!" when that isn't an option because we're pelvic thrusting to Shakira, and all of a sudden I'm on my ass and the preps are looking down at me and laughing.

Or some shit like that.

I'm putting it out to the blogosphere - how do all y'all get your hips to do the things you do? Is there a youtube video I can watch? Do I just need to get so plastered that the neurons cease to fire? Or you know, should I just stop trying and admit my whiteness is more suited to MTV exercise videos? Help!

To Bar Examinees:

2011-07-26T17:23:00.002-04:00

My thoughts are with you! YOU ARE THE BEST ATTORNEY SITTING IN THAT ROOM. Kick ass.

I'll be back tomorrow, for now, all my thoughts are concentrated on passing scores for my law school grad friends!!

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-07-22T14:29:00.002-04:00

This really isn't "people" is it? It's more like "nouns" that suck and "nouns" that rock. People sounds better though so whaaaaaaaaatevaaaaaah.

People Who Rock:

DailyMile.com - have you guys used it? It's AMAZING. So are Caroline, Chelsea, Joey, Maria and Ramona for keeping tabs on me (on it);
The NYT's Lede blog. I'm really impressed with their ability to switch between the Murdochs, the protests in Syria, human rights abuses in the West Bank and now, Norway - all while keeping me hooked because the quality of coverage is excellent. In other news, I pretty much just love the NYT;
The dude who invented air conditioning. Grad School Ex says that he (the inventor) should receive a Nobel Peace Prize, and on days like today I agree;
My abfave former prof from grad school - you know who you are;
Derek Jeter. Love him. Just in case you were wondering;
You guys for still reading after the epic HP post; and
THE WOMEN'S WORLD CUP TEAM! I LOVE YOU ALL AND AM GOING TO CANADA IN 2015!!!!!

People Who Suck:

The douchebags who blew up a building (and tourists) in Oslo; the motherfucker who posed as a cop to shoot up kids on a Norwegian island;
Ruperty Smurpety;
In less serious news, my blue sports bra - wtf! We've been friends for how long and suddenly you decide that TODAY you're going to slice into my shoulder? OW. Also - how to make it stop? Anyone? Bueller?;
The weather gods. People who don't believe in climate change. Congressional leaders who won't fund attempts at scaling back climate change. Anyone who in any way can be held responsible for a heat index of 120 degrees in Washington, DC;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five. Just cause he isn't playing a role in the shutdown doesn't change this, at all;
My company for not giving me my expense check yet. "I want my money!!!!!!!"; and
The jerky mcjerkersons out there (one in particular) who drive around blithely in their multiple ton vehicles and don't realize that one false step can seriously injure pedestrians and bikes. In the case I am thinking of, that didn't happen, but unfortunately it does EVERY DAY. I'm not saying that the driver is always at fault, however, in a collision between a BMX and BMW, guess who walks away.

Boys are Brainless. Girls are Gullible.

2011-07-20T15:28:00.005-04:00

CAUTION: mass generalizations ahead.

I was talking to Becca the other day about her lovely fiance's bff, who is also lovely, if you find AWESOMENESS lovely. Seriously, he's funny, he likes good music, he's a good dancer, and he's nice.

In other words, he's a catch.

However, until recently he was off the market, much to the chagrin of Brooklyn girls en masse, and also, Becca/her fiance. To be clear, this isn't because Becca and Mr. Becca (I think I have a name for him, but I'm too lazy to find it) wanted to have a ménage à trois avec lui (which by the way, always sounds like I'm saying "with my friend Louis" to me) but because the reason he was off the market SUCKED.

Well. The person who you know. Was. Dating him? You got it.

I think I only met her once (if that?) and so you'll have to take Becca's word on it, but her word is not only quite good, but also - the stories. Oh the stories. I don't want to tell them on this space, because it's sort of irrelevant to my central point (I'm getting there, I'm getting there) AND it is too funny to be shared with the public in the fear that it would get back to that chick. Suffice to say, she is at best a youngish girl, newish to the city, very pretty and looking to maybe settle down and be preggo by the time she's 27 and decided that BFBFF (Becca's Fiance's BFF) was a nice little meal ticket to ride because he's cute etc etc (see above: catch). At WORST she is a certified idiot, and one of those sad girls who decides that because they have a man RIGHT NOW they are going to claw into him and try to change him into the guy they want him to be, rather than the very very cool dude he already is.

Ok. Scene is set.

A few months ago, to the joy of Becca, her fiance, girls in Brooklyn and really, humans EVERYWHERE, they broke up. It had been a long time coming, but because BFBFF is a man, and he enjoyed easily accessible sex, it lasted than it should have. Eventually however, he grew some balls, cut her off, and that was the end of that.

Or so humans everywhere thought.

Except, crazy lady crawled back in. Becca was telling me some story about her weekend and mentioned that crazy lady had been there and I was all WAIT WHAT?! And she was like "oh yeah. They're having post breakup sex. A lot of it" and some other choice words that I shall leave out for reasons mentioned above. As we started talking, it became increasingly clear that crazy lady is doing That Thing That Girls Do when they want a guy to get back together with them.

In two words: blow jobs.

Lots of them. Loads, really. And all the other stuff these girls (I say these as though I haven't been one of them. But that is false) wouldn't do when they were ACTUALLY in the relationship with you (because apparently everything is about to be in the second person). And the sex - it's not perfunctory like it was when the two of you weren't getting along but you still were clinging to the chance that you might again. It's HOT! Because it's illicit! And because these girls really really really want you to come back, so they work extra super duper hard.

Or fake it. But shhhh no baby it's totally real, I've never felt so good.

And so slowly, so subtly that no one realizes it until it's done, you boys feel an inexorable pull back into the relationship. At first it's just the sex. But then she's like "damnit, my apartment is being fumigated - can I stay with you?" And then it's "oh I bought this Groupon to this place I know you'd love and it's about to expire!! Come out to dinner!" And suddenly, you're back to brunch on Sunday mornings, going to Ikea to discuss furniture options, and driving your friends fucking crazy with this girl they thought they were well shot of.

Well. If the crazy girl is lucky.

Thus begets my first postulation: boys are brainless. I don't mean to be all "haven't you seen a terrible romantic comedy?" BUT HAVEN'T YOU. Also, in real person terms, you KNOW that it's not possible that your ex has suddenly become a sex pot who is TOTES OK with having a casual relationship with you. You know why? She's the SAME GIRL WHOSE HEART YOU BROKE A FEW MONTHS AGO. Also? You're NOT THAT GOOD IN BED. So every time she assures you that "no, we're tooooootally like friends with benefits" do not think that you get to suddenly be Justin Timberlake and rock Mila Kunis without putting out in the commitment department. I haven't seen the movie, but I'll tell you how it will end: they will fall in love, kiss, get together, get married, and have 2.3 blissful children.

And this is the movie that crazy girl is going to take you to see.

Don't get me wrong - girls do it too. I have a "friend" (ehem) who went through a really tragic break up last summer with her boyfriend (cough, cough) and then he went away and she moved out of the apartment they shared together (cough) and when he came back suddenly her friends found that I she was totally smitten-kitten over ~~Grad School Ex~~ again.

Whatever.

But instead of boys luring their ex-girlfriends back with the promise of sex (please. Ha. Not saying it's not appealing, just that we can get it elsewhere) they lure them in with promises of a new, different relationship. One in which they are able to commit, want to have lots of sex and babies, and in which their mother's terribly low (and rather undeserved, if my "friend" does say so herself) opinion of the girl doesn't matter. And ladies, I am here to tell you - it's a lie.

Which leads me to MA's Second Law of exes: girls are gullible.

I mean, I'm pretty smart. And I have a very good therapist. And about 15 friends who have my back so fiercely that if we needed to take down fillintheblank gang West Side Story-style, we could. Every single one of them was like "uh. Really? What has changed in the past month that you guys were apart that suddenly brought on this realization?" A few also said "MA, this isn't a romantic comedy. Get off Netflix streaming, now."

And yet - I fell for it.

And months later, when we were having the SAME conversations we had been having about long term relationship potential, I found myself laughing - wasn't this supposed to have been resolved 365 days before? Actually, HADN'T it been resolved? And then didn't you come to me and say, I was wrong, I've never loved anyone more, and I want to be with you forever.

Sigh.

In Grad School Ex's defense, I think he probably truly believed it when he said it. And in crazy lady's defense (I mean... maybe. At least in "crazy ladies'" defense. Not necessarily this specific case) they might believe it too. That they're totally cool with not being in a relationship with you.

And maybe, just maybe, it all works out for some people. Cue sappy music.

But in the majority of cases, it does not. So boys - trust me. She is using sex to get you back. And girls - unless he had a life changing experience, or 10 years have gone by (ok, at least A year has gone by) - he still isn't ready. And that's OK, because there are super hot people out there just waiting to give you the good sex and also tell you that they want to be with you forever.

So quit wasting your time and go find them damnit!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 - no me gustaba.

2011-07-19T00:12:00.006-04:00

I just wanted all y'all to know that I did not like the movie. And that's the kindest way I can say it. If you're sick of hearing me talk about Harry Potter (I wouldn't be surprised), I'll be back tomorrow with a normal post. If you don't want to hear bad things about Harry Potter (the movies), I'll be back tomorrow with a normal post. If you haven't seen the movie or read the book yet and want to, I'll be back tomorrow with a normal post.

Otherwise, my thoughts after the jump.

This is solely about Deathly Hallows part 2, because honestly, I have tried very very hard to forget the other movies I have seen (so much so that I forgot I actually saw Half Blood Prince, and apparently was incredibly agitated at the end of it. I definitely believe the friend who told me this but I do not have a memory of it. It's like pregnancy pain! Except that at the end, there's no baby, just a non-complaining MA). Also, if I wrote about all the ones I've seen (assuming I could remember) I'm PRETTY sure this post would be longer than Order of the Phoenix. As it is, we're approaching Chamber of Secrets levels. At least now those of you who always wonder "seriously. What does she DO at work" has an answer for Monday - I did this. Also, I did most of it from the comfort of my bed (and thus could not be bothered to get up to check facts and quotes). If I got them wrong, please let me know!

So. Here we go.

I've broken this into "major plot points," "minor - but AMAZING - shit they cut out," "crap they put in instead of including my fave scenes" and "nits only a crazy book snob fan would have." If you're still reading (are any of you still reading?) I can understand wanting to see the ones that don't prove I'm crazy, at least at first.

Or maybe it's the other way around?

Anyway, I know a few of you (ok, maybe just poor vvk and my IRL friends) have heard about this already, and as they know, I'm probably not going to agree with your disagreement. It's not that I don't enjoy healthy debate - I do! I just have thought a lot about this and have decided I'm right (insert gleeful chuckle). However, I would really appreciate all y'alls collective insight, whether it's "you're SO WRONG" or "you're right, but..." or "dude, how could you forget X?" I'll see you in the comments! Caution: massive spoilers and saaaalty language ahead:

Major Plot Points they FUCKED UP

Invisibility Cloak - ok, this really upset me. I know that it's not great in film to have your main character be, well, invisible. But there is quite literally no chance in HELL that Harry would go galavanting around the wizarding world (eg Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade) without wearing his invisibility cloak, especially given that (at least in the book, I didn't see part one) he wasn't galavanting around the MUGGLE world - and the one in the middle of trees and shit! - without it. And even if, ok, he was being reckless. HERMIONE GRANGER IS THE SMARTEST WITCH EVER AND WOULD NOT HAVE PERMITTED IT.
Speaking of Hermione, Ron and Hermione's kiss. When I first considered seeing the movies, this was the reason why. I don't get those people who thought Hermione and Harry should get together (when... why... ew) and perhaps these are the same people who think that the movies are better than the books. I have been avidly following the Ron/Hermione relationships since Goblet of Fire, when they have that big old fight in the common room post-Yule Ball. Seriously - I know exactly upon which page it occurs, because I have read that page SO MANY TIMES with JOY. I remember sitting in the apartment I shared with Joey and Maria, discussing the scene with Emilia in anticipation of the 5th book coming out. This was EIGHT YEARS AGO. So pardon me for saying I know how this all went down. If you wanna see it from my (correct) perspective, click show/hide. If you just want to get to my Issue, skip it.
Alright you gluttons for HP punishment, here's my synopsis:
- GoF: Hermione develops a small crush on Ron.
- GoF: Ron realizes Hermione is a girl. ("Oh well spotted!")
- GoF: Ron does not realize it, but he also has a crush on Hermione. See: Viktor Krum, Ron's aggression towards him, etc.
- GoF: They are only 14, so they let that go in the face of Harry's imminent death. They are all friends. Yay. Just friends. They swear.
- OotP: Ron tries out for Quidditch team, makes it. Hermione is concerned about him, in vaguely annoying way girls sometimes have.
- OotP: On the day of Ron's first Quidditch match, Hermione kisses him on the cheek. Ron is confused. So confused, he forgets to feel ill about the match.
- OotP: Ron freaks out when Cho kisses Harry. In a weird way. Not... a bad weird way. Just a little TOO interested.
- OotP: That's about it, other than Ron freaking out about Ginny's boyfriends. In short order, all of them face imminent death and so, you know, they get over themselves.
- HBP: Alright, so on the first day of new Potions with Slughorn, Hermione gets all the right answers, but falters a bit when talking about Amortentia (this is also when we realize that Harry might love Ginny, because of the whole smelling something that reminded him of the Burrow). When I first read this, I screamed at that line. I felt bad about it because I was about 100 pages ahead of my brother at the time (who was right down the hall). I still scream when I read it, but there's no one to feel bad about nearby!
- HBP: Lavender shows an interest in Ron, but we think it's gonna be OK because in the end (at Quidditch tryouts) it's Hermione who runs down to the pitch and hugs him telling him he was brilliant.
- HBP: In short order, in what is definitely the most exciting moment thus far (for... the part of me that cries harder at Love Actually each time I see it), when the trio is working on the Snargaluff pod, Hermione mentions that she was thinking of taking Ron to Slughorn's party and the two of them fade off into their own little world. I freaked people. Freaked.
- HBP: Of course, Ron is a fucking prat and ruins it all by fucking with poor Hermione, just because she was being honest and good and all those things she usually is! Ok, Hermione could maybe have been a little kinder but Ron shows us how much of a child he is when Hermione calls Harry out on the Felicis potion and when it turns out they were BOTH WRONG he blames Hermione, and decides to go have a slurpy (of course it's slurpy. Duh) make out sesh in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione retaliates first with little birds, then by asking Ron's main competition for Gryffindor Keeper (Cormac McClaggen, in the most Exeter name I could think of in the series) to the party instead of Ron. Girls can be cruel. But deliberately so, while Ron is just a motherfucking IDIOT. DID I MENTION THAT?! IDIOT!!
- HBP: Uh, where was I. Oh yes, in the face of Harry's imminent death (or something like that) Ron and Hermione eventually get over themselves and in doing so, Lavender and Won-Won break up (massive sigh of relief here). Hermione smirks.
- HBP: At Dumbledore's funeral, Ron comforts Hermione. It is a good moment, but one of massive blue balls. Were I boy. And not, you know, just reading about two fictional characters I never met.
- DH: Ron makes some massive progress, post-Lavender and post-Dumbledore death and just, in general, being home for his big brother's wedding with his other big brothers to help him out. Ie, the book that Fred and George give him. He is considerate of Hermione, he finally starts to notice - and comment!) on things to make her happy, etc.
- DH: Then we have the wedding and the aftermath thereof. Ron gets jealous when Krum shows up, but instead of taking it out on Hermione he takes her out onto the dance floor! HE GETS IT! MAYBE! STILL! Then when they kip out at Sirius' house, Ron makes Hermione the most comfortable and they fall asleep holding hands. Massive happy sigh. It's finally working out!
- DH: Except of COURSE NOT. Once they get the horcrux and start wearing it around their necks, Ron regresses to like, OotP levels of immaturity. Or at least, Lavender Brown levels. He's mean and spiteful and generally horrible to Harry, and when Hermione says the obvious (something like, we said we'd help Harry!) he turns on her and is all "fine, side with him, I knew you would!" When he leaves, it's awful. It is absolutely the worst moment in the entire series for me, including all the deaths. Hermione goes out and calls and calls and calls and it's just. I mean. It's just awful. Of course we don't KNOW that Ron would have come back if he could have, but... it doesn't matter. He's gone.
- DH: Luckily! Dumbledore knew he'd "want to come back" and he does, and we see that terrible shivery moment when the horcrux mimics his worst fears and then after he conquers them, and the horcrux is dead, Harry tells him - I love her like a sister. Massive sigh of RELIEF.
- DH: Well except that Hermione is so livid with Ron that we're not POSITIVE she'll ever speak to him again (but we're pretty sure she will. I mean, she's the best). But still - it takes a while of Ron trying very hard to get back in her good book (haha. Get it? Hermione? Book?) and we start to realize that he's changed. Either it's because of his time at Shell Cottage, or because of something else we don't know. But that's where we are left prior to The Kiss.
So until The Kiss, the underlying theme between Ron and Hermione is this. Hermione loves Ron. Ron loves Hermione. But he's too much of an immature child to admit it, and can be utterly devastating to her when this immaturity comes out (snogging Lavender, making fun of her all the time, yelling at her when things aren't her fault such as in the tent in DH). It's amazing that Hermione waits him out (although looking at Mr. Weasley and Bill, I could see why she has faith) and it all pays off, WHEN, Ron finally grows up. How do we know he grows up and it's not just Fred and George's book? Because it's about HOUSE ELVES. They are the symbol of Hermione's compassion and social justicey streak. She is better than H and R because she cares, and forces them to care (we see this in "she's got the measure of Crouch better than you, Ron" in GoF). And so, when Ron sincerely states that he is worried about Hogwarts' house elves, and says "we can't have any more Dobbies" Hermione realizes that Ron has turned into the man she (and we!) always knew he could be. And that's when they kiss in the book. In the movie? It's because they just saw Voldemort's face? And they're all wet? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!!
Apparition all over Hogwarts during the battle. Uh. No. If that was possible, Voldemort would have just apparated the fuck out of there. What the hell. Haven't the movie makers ever read Hogwarts, A History?!
Harry's phoenix feather wand. In the book, the last thing Harry does with the Elder Wand is fix his own wand. And then he puts it back from whence Voldemort stole it, and goes on to lead a normal lovely life with a normal lovely wand. In the movie, he breaks the fucking EW into two pieces and throws them over a cliff or something. So, what? Now he uses Draco's hawthorn wand? Seriously? I'm supposed to believe that??? I'd take the Death Stick over something that was stupid Draco's.
Hallows vs Horcruxes. I can only assume that they didn't show the scene in the first movie about the Deathly Hallows with Mr. Lovegood, because why would they have needed to expand upon it in part 2? Maybe as a reminder? That's dumb. IT'S ALL DUMB. But no seriously, can someone tell me why (if they DID show the Lovegood scene) Ollivander knew about the Hallows? It doesn't fit his eery wand-focused personality, and if he knew, wouldn't Voldemort also have known and NOT made the Resurrection Stone into a horcrux?! HELLO! And if they DIDN'T show the Lovegood scene, how did we find out about the Hallows in the first place? And why was Luna imprisoned? Hm?? HM?!?!?!
Power of love. There's no explanation - because it doesn't come up, which is ridiculous - that after Voldemort comes back and they start battling again, none of the Death Eater spells can hit anyone in the Order or the DA because Harry volunteered his life for them. This is a serious mimicking of the beginning of the book, and I think a key point to be made. Instead, we get this jumbled stupid idiotic battle that is super short and yet drags on, and suddenly, there they are and let's fight in the courtyard? That really upset me. I know it's the same thing as Return of the King or Star Wars or all the other "love conquers all" themes out there, but they didn't even TOUCH on it. It was INTEGRAL to the entire SERIES. Fruuuuuuuuuuuuuustrated.
Last one, and it might be a bit controversial. Harry/Voldemort tumble. When I saw the movie, I could have sworn that at some point, their heads melded into a weird, The Joker-esq combination of Harry and Voldy. I might have been wrong, in which case, you know. Ok. But if I wasn't, that was fucking ridiculous. BECAUSE THEY WEREN'T LINKED ANYMORE! So how would that have happened, eh?!?! HOW! Bastards fucking up my favorite books.

Minor - BUT AMAZING - shit they cut and thus FUCKED UP

Dumbledore's Family. Alright, I don't know what they did in Part 1 but in Part 2 we barely get a fucking nod at Ariana Dumbledore. And um, HELLO?! SHE'S IMPORTANT! THEY ALL ARE! Again, not sure what happened in Part 1. But one of the most desperate subplots of the book was figuring out if Dumbledore had been using Harry, or loved him. We get some weird ass lines from Aberforth about it in the Hogs Head scene (do we ever KNOW it's the Hog's Head) but they don't make sense AT ALL in the context of not knowing shit about Dumbledore's family. Also, the part when Ab tells the story about the real cause of Ariana's death, it's tragic and horrifying and makes you feel better about Dumbledore. And then when Harry sees in the pensieve Snape saying "preparing him as a pig for slaughter" then you go OH NO WE WERE WRONG! And then in King's Cross you feel better. WHAT THE HELL.
Hogsmeade scene. Ok, maybe I'm alone in this but the scene when Aberforth saves the trio and then fools the Death Eaters was CLASSIC in the book. You need fucking comic relief? Don't have Voldemort awkwardly hug Draco Malfoy. THERE IS NO WAY VOLDEMORT WOULD HUG OR EVEN TOUCH ANYONE EVER (see: him pushing off freaking Bellatrix post-Kings Cross). Just keep in the goat! It's fucking ridiculous the low expectations they have of movie watchers that they don't even include things because they don't think they'll remember them later on. I don't know who They are but I'm pissed at Them.
Grindelwald. Last thing about the Dumbledores, I swear, but I hear Grindelwald was left out of the movies entirely. Bull effing shit. The world is NOT SPLIT INTO GOOD GUYS AND DEATH EATERS and it drives me nuts when we lose the complexity that makes these books so fucking good.
All the shit that happens post-Hog's Head until the Battle of Hogwarts. I'm talking several things. Ravenclaw's Diadem mainly, but you know. Ginny showing up and there being real chemistry. Hearing about life under the Carrows, and how all those kids ended up in the Room of Requirement in the first place (I don't think we even are told in the movie that it IS the Room of Requirement). And suddenly Luna's there? What about Dean? How did they get there? Hm??? How did they know to come? What was that radio? OH WAIT IT WAS THE DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY COINS. Idiots. AND WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS UP WITH THE RAVENCLAW SHIT.
I love that fucking scene. I love it when Ron and Hermione tell Harry he doesn't have to go it alone, and he realizes the Ravenclaws can help. I love it when Ginny says "fiercely" that Luna should take Harry, not Cho. I love when Luna answers the question at the Ravenclaw Tower, because first of all it's awesome in and of itself ("a circle has no beginning") and second of all its even AWESOMER that there's not a password, you just have to answer a philosophical question to get into Ravenclaw! I love it when Luna comments on never having stunned someone before and how noisy it is (cause clearly it's cause she hit glass, not because it was NOISY). I love all the little Ravenclaws coming down and the mental image of them scampering back up. I love when Amycus and McGonagall come and McG is all "Potter belongs in MY house" with the hint of pride and there's another question and then Amycus spits in McGonagall's face and Potter says you shouldn't have done that and then McGonagall's reaction is "that was foolish!" Instead of you know, zomg, Harry Potter! Here he comes to save the day!
Mostly, I love the whole thing but cmon. How does Luna's crazy ass explanation about the diadem actually do anything in the movies. Harry does NOT know what a diadem looks like in the movies, as far as I can tell. How is that possible? How is it possible that he doesn't have to see it on the bust of Rowena? Isn't that how he knows to go look for it in the Room of Requirement? I don't remember if he hides his book there in HBP but if he doesn't he SHOULD it's RIDICULOUS that whole fucking bullshit scene with Luna and Helena Ravenclaw. BAH. Annoyed.
Percy's return and Fred's death. I sobbed hysterically when this happened in the book (ok, I was sobbing at normal levels and Percy's return just kicked it up a few notches, only to have it kicked up even higher with Fred's death. I knew a Weasley was gonna die in Book 7, but it didn't make it any easier when it happened. In fact, because of George's ear (which btw, looked perfectly intact to me) I figured the twins were safe and Jo was going to do something like kill off Charlie, which would have been sad but not tragic. Anyway, the whole scene(s) is/are amazing. Percy comes in, everyone's like eeeeeeh and then he's like I was a fucking idiot! And then it's a big Weasley reunion and the Weasleys are Harry's REAL family and they're all TOGETHER AGAIN AND IT'S JUST MEAN THAT THEY DIDN'T LET PERCE REDEEM HIMSELF. And then! AND THEN! When all the Weasleys are fighting and the trio comes and joins them and the massive explosion happens (I mean, why is a fucking unknown Death Eater beating Freddy? NOT POSSIBLE!) and Percy tells the joke and Fred dies with the ghost of his last laugh etched upon his face (I'm pretty sure those are the words). It's just. It's perfect. And it's tragic. And everyone watching that goddamned movie was robbed.
When Harry tells Neville the thing about Nagini. It's heart wrenching. It sets up the heroic scene. And it just... Neville saying "you know we're going to keep fighting" breaks my Harry Potter loving heart. In the movie, he just happens to be like "oh look, here's a snake that Voldemort loves, I think I shall kill it." Fucking ridiculous.
The charms on the Lestrange's vault. I don't understand why, if there weren't those heating charms on the items in the Lestrange's vault, Harry would have needed the sword of Gryffindor. It just doesn't make sense. In the books, he is Levicorpused by Ron and that makes fucking sense, but since it's so hot he can't touch it without it exploding into 10 burning copies and then dropping it and doing it all over. Hence, the sword, which can touch it without burning (cause it's, hello, a sword) and also, without the germinio charm happening. That's when Griphook gets the sword.
Sword of Gryffindor. Why the hell couldn't we have replaced that ridiculously awkward scene that they made up with the ACTUAL SHIT THAT HAPPENED when the Death Eaters bring Harry out of the forest? The Sorting Hat comes down, Neville pulls the Sword out of it, like the true Gryffindor he is, and kills Nagini. What was wrong with that David Yates, David Heyman? NOTHING. NOTHING WAS WRONG WITH IT AND YOU SCREWED IT UP.
The Severus Snape Draco Malfoy speech right before the final spell. Somewhere my mom is grimacing cause she didn't like this in the book, but I thought it was not just illuminating, but incredibly important (especially for those who somehow missed the whole, Snape-loves-Lily thing. See below). You see, because the Elder Wand does not HAVE to change allegiances by death, and instead is just by DEFEAT, it matters in the EXTREME that Snape loved Lily and that is what turned him against Voldemort. Since he was killing Dumbledore ON DUMBLEDORE'S ORDERS, he did not defeat him at all! In fact, as we learn, Dumbledore intended to have the Elder Wand die with him. But of course, Draco meets him up on the tower and that plan is changed. But Harry beats Voldy to Draco, and I think there is nothing more dramatic than the line right before the last Avada Kedavra/Expelliarmus spell that goes something like "the question is - does the Elder Wand know its last owner was defeated four days ago" or whatever. In the movie, you just see the wand sorta twirl in the air. It was silly looking. And I thought it was really important (no, it WAS) that Harry or ANY of the kids ever used Avada Kedavra. DAMNIT.
Snape's moment in the pensieve. Uh, raise your hand if you had no real clue what the hell was going on in all those pensieve scenes. What happened to Petunia? Why doesn't she get a little bit of redemption when we find out how incredibly jealous she has been of Lily all those years? THAT SHE WROTE TO DUMBLEDORE?! IF IT'S NOT THERE, IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE IN LIGHT OF THE "we've corresponded" LINE THAT I AM NOT SURE MADE IT INTO HBP BUT SHOULD HAVE. Stupid. Additionally, does anyone really get how Severus and Lily met? No. Does that actor clearly covet Lily? No. Do we see her be snide towards James Potter? No. DOES SHE GET TO USE TOERAG? I don't think so. She might. I was livid. AND!! AND!!!! The scene where Snape says he doesn't need help from a Mudblood and we see how their relationship broke down and how it tortures him and WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID YOU TAKE THAT ALL OUT YOU FUCKING FUCKITY FUCKS?! Additionally, I've heard that people somehow think that Snape is Harry's real father? Clear. Sign. Of. Fuckupery.
Fiend Fyre. What was the point of that scene if you're not going to use the Fiend Fyre as a way to destroy the horcrux? What about "like it hot, scum?" And it would have been nice of Harry et al had even tried aguamenti. I mean seriously, are they wizards or not.
Bellatrix vs. Molly. I know technically this was in there, but there was none of the heat of the battle in the book. It was three on one originally with Bellatrix but then Molly is like do NOT FUCK WITH MY KID (merely leaving in the "not my daughter you bitch" line does not do it, dudes). And suddenly we realize that while Molly maybe kind, and sweet, and gentle and GREAT and cooking and overprotective of Bill vs Fleur and also, wanting to cut his hair, she is also (as she is once described) a sabre-toothed tiger. When Sirius battles Bellatrix, it's fun and games and sport. This time, Molly means business. And she wins. We see... what? 20 seconds of this? Idiotic.
People cheering and celebrating at the end of the battle. I mean, my entire theatre was clapping. Where was the wizarding world?! This is what happens when you put a rando battle in the stupid courtyard.

Crap they put in for NO REASON that could have been used to fill some of the gaps listed above, the fucking FUCK UPS:

McGonagall sending the Slyterins to the dungeons. First of all, assuming all of Slyterin was bad was something Jo never would have written, ever. Second of all, MCGONAGALL WOULD NEVER HAVE SENT KIDS TO THE FUCKING DUNGEONS. Cmon! They are KIDS. It's a terrible thing to have put in there, aside from the fact that it wasn't in the book.
The scene where Ron and Hermione go down to the Chamber of Secrets. Did anyone else feel like they still had that set and wanted to re-use it? Because there was absolutely no need - NO NEED - for that goddamn MOTHER FUCKING scene. Ugh.
Luna and the Grey Lady. First of all, how the fuck did Harry know Helena Ravenclaw's name? HM?! Did he just divine that because is the chosen one? NO! NO HE DID NOT! And Helena Ravenclaw wasn't a psycho, she was just you know - a bitter young woman. And yet, apparently she WAS a psycho who had a close relationship with Luna?! WHAT?! Just ridiculous. I was so pissed off at this point that I stopped paying attention, but oh my god I bet it was awful. Last thought on this one: how in MERLIN'S BEARD did fucking Helena Ravenclaw know that Tom Riddle had hidden the horcrux in the Room of Requirement? What. The. Fuck.
Snape's death in the boathouse. WHAT BOATHOUSE? Why was that necessary? Why did it have to be romantic? How did Harry just know where this boathouse was? WHAT IS GOING ON?!
The stupid tears shit with Snape's death. Cmon, we know what a pensieve is (don't we? Please tell me they put that in the movie). He didn't need to fucking cry. Wah wah.
The scene with Nagini and Ron and Hermione. Why? WHY? YOU COULDN'T HAVE LEFT IN FRED'S DEATH FOR SOME STUPID CHASE DOWN THE STAIRS?!
Voldemort (and Harry) knowing when horcruxes are destroyed. It's just dumb, because it cuts out all the cool scenes when Voldemort goes to the cave and the old Gaunt house. Also, I liked the fact that he was no longer even kind of connected to these bits of his soul. It made him seem more evil. I dunno, the fact that Jo actually put the question in there and answered it, and then the movie goes the opposite way, just seems so STUPID AND FRUSTRATING.
The hug. I know I mentioned this above but there is simply no way in HELL that Voldemort would EVER have hugged Draco EVER. STUPID.
The final battle. Why? Why? Why did this need to be long and WHY did it need to be in the courtyard? It was so much better when it was three-on-one for both Bellatrix and Voldemort, and then Mrs. Weasley defeats "you bitch" and then Voldemort freaks and Harry reappears and it's all very dramatic. Instead, we got some ridiculous version where they're alone (looking) in the courtyard, surrounded by dead bodies? And they just finish it off? Really? That's supposed to be better than the book?
The Malfoys. Why do they run away? I love the awkwardness of them sitting in the Great Hall, being ignored by everyone. It's so KEY. World is not split into good people and Death Eaters. Bah. It really annoyed me that they ran off. Cause that would have happened.
Lavender Brown. In the book, Hermione saves her from Fenrir Greyback. In the movie, she dies. I just don't know why that had to happen. It wasn't a particularly powerful scene in the book, but on my sixth or so rereading I realized that Hermione saved Lavender, who is supposedly you know. Her nemesis! In book six! Why did she die?! We barely saw it happen! It was so wasteful and stupid.
The trio's last meeting. They think. What was up with that? That was the whole point of Harry going without saying goodbye. He didn't want Hermione to say "I'll go with you!" He didn't want to admit to them that it was over! He was in PAIN, and he knew seeing them would make him stay. Similarly, Hermione knew he was a horcrux? Seriously? That was just unnecessary. ALL OF IT WAS UNNECESSARY THE BOOKS WERE PERFECTION AS THEY STOOD.
Luna loving Neville or the other way around. Just. NO!

Nits that only a crazy book snob fan would have but still FUCKED the damn movie in the end:

Luna, Ernie and Seamus coming to the rescue when the dementors swarm the castle (which doesn't happen). I like that all three of the trio falter cause they're so sad, and these other three catch them up and help.
Slughorn returning with all the families after leaving in what seems like disgrace. First of all, it makes way more sense that the Order and DA would beat a shit ton of Death Eaters with help. Second of all, I was glad to see Slughorn grow some balls.
The centaurs, Grawp, and the other magical creatures joining the battle. The movie was strangely pro-wizard, given that the books are so rigidly against that.
Kreacher coming and fighting for brave Regulus and his new master Harry. I wept openly when that happened in the book (ok. Seriously. So much weeping).
The Gringotts dragon doesn't burst out the top btw. S/he walks through the doors. I just always really liked that image in my head.
Harry knows what happens immediately with Voldemort killing all the goblins and wizards while he's still in the lake. I thought it was so great when the trio gets to have a massive laugh and THEN he sees it. Annoying.
Nagini's cage simply didn't exist. And that was supposed to be a sign to Snape that it was time to tell Harry that he had to sacrifice himself.
All the time at Shell Cottage that we didn't see. I love me some good old fashioned Bill Weasley. A lot. And I liked getting a better picture of wizard-goblin relations that seemed just completely terrible with the part we saw (Griphook's treachery).
Speaking of Griphook, um, I'm pretty sure he wasn't able to steer the cart and that's why the goblin had to be put under the Imperius curse. Just sayin'.
At the same time, I get cutting out the Travers scenes for time but I really would have LOVED to see a Death Eater trying to go hide in a crack in the caves of Gringotts.
Teddy Lupin? Uh, I don't remember him being born. Does anyone? NO OF COURSE NOT. But suddenly Harry was apologizing to Remus about it. RANDO. Also, how is everyone to know that Teddy gets with Victoire later on and they're all one big happy family?
Blaise Zabini vs Vincent Crabbe vs Gregory Goyle. Was anyone else confused about why Vincent Crabbe was suddenly black? Apparently the actor who played Crabbe was busted for some sort of drug issue and so Blaise was substituted in for that scene, and Goyle was the one who lit the fire. That was dumb in general, and oh wait Blaise was DEFINITELY not pro-Voldemort on the train ride in HBP.
Mrs. Longbottom showing up was a "pump the air in the first" type of moment in the book. Her crisp attitude, her clear confidence and respect for her grandson? Amazing. And yet, there was no Mrs. Longbottom in the movie.
McGonagall chasing the desks. Just would have liked to see it.
Similarly, Trelawney lobbing the crystal balls - I think I saw Emma Thompson but was like "wait what" and she was gone. I thought it was so nice to see, and Sprout, and all the professors use their particular magical expertise.
Hermione using Bellatrix's wand at Gringotts? Why did they even give Hermione Bella's wand if she wasn't going to use it when the time came? It was so weird. SO weird. Also, Ron suddenly being all weirdly disguised without any explanation? Just confusing!
Why did Bellatrix and Voldemort turn into people looking like The Mummy after being hit with the Killing Curse? I'm pretty sure you just die. That was really weird, and more than a little gross.
Lastly, why was the movie so DARK. It just... there were so many times (Gringotts, the Room of Requirement in its many iterations) that the film was like, depressing. But in my head they were light and airy and colorful. I know the book was dark, but that's a descriptive term of the tone, not the actual color. Jeez.

Alright. Any of you still with me? I love you if you are. This will be the last Harry Potter in a long time, and I appreciate you putting up with me until now.

People Who Rock. People Who Suck. Viewers choice!

2011-07-15T14:34:00.005-04:00

I'm taking nominations. I feel like today's would be too... you know. Similar to last week's and things like that. Also I can't decide if Rebekah Brooks would BOTH rock and suck, or just suck.

So I'm throwing it to you!

Who rocks? Who sucks? I'll update as the weekend goes on. XOXO

Thanks to Miss Sassy Pants at A Few French Fries Short of a Happy Meal, vvk at Accident and Error and MLU at My Legal Union!

People Who Rock:

Betty Ford!!
The men and women who have made the Space Shuttle program work over the past 30 years... many of whom have recently lost their jobs... and many more who will lose their jobs in the coming weeks.

People Who Are Neutral:

Rebekah Brooks

People Who Suck:

Aron Levy
Voldemort
Slytherin

Update: I take (most of) it back

2011-07-14T22:32:00.001-04:00

So.

Today was an utterly SHIT day. I would rather not go into why because I actually feel FABULOUS right now, but let's just leave it at work + need new work + self esteem (old work related) + romantic life + work.

FUN.

It all sort of came together in a massive clusterfuck around 7:30, just when I was getting on YET ANOTHER CONFERENCE CALL. I muted the phone, pulled a pillow over my mouth just in case the mute doesn't work (ie, my biggest fear EVER) and sobbed a little.

Ok, more than a little.

I felt super bad for myself and played my "Mopey Music" playlist, which usually makes me feel worse, then better. This time it wasn't doing anything. And I thought to myself, "self? You are sucking right now. Yes, life isn't perfect but it's pretty damn good. And you better shape up or ship out."

I chose shipping out.

Well, biking out really. Biking is pretty much my favorite thing to do in the world - and it's physical activity!!! Inevitably, no matter how sad or crappy or wiped or whatever I felt before going for a bike ride, I end up singing (a sure sign of pure joy in my case) about halfway through, if not before.

Today was no different.

I biked waaaaaay up Connecticut (total sidenote: was there like, a happy hour at the National Zoo? Because there were a shitton of people coming out wasted, looking for cabs, holding beer mugs. WANNA BE INVITED NEXT TIME BISHES) and just when I had decided that was enough hills, I started singing along to Billy Joel.

Loudly.

Which made me even happier, because I love being happy enough to sing and I LOVE Billy Joel! And so I started belting as I flew down the hills, hair whipping around like crazy, just feeling really, really lucky to be alive, and me, and all that jazz.

Now you may be wondering what this has to do with Harry Potter.

As I came down CT, I hit a particularly bad spot in Cleveland Park, where the car-and-people traffic was super bad, PLUS something was blocking the right most lane, thus plunging me into said morass. I was annoyed, because I had been feeling SO lovely and now I had to inhale the fumes of drunken boys and silly girls' cars, so I looked for the hold up.

And it was that theatre in CP.

You know - the one that shows like, ONE movie at a time. And guess what that movie is today. All together now? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part deux. And I don't know. Maybe I still needed a pick me up. Maybe I realized I was being a total B before, and who am I to say that one method of experiencing something is better than another? And maybe sometimes I let my insecurities sort of take over so much that they make me scream I'M BETTER I'M BETTER I'M BETTER THAN YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU.

Internally. Most of the time.

Whatever the reason, seeing a bunch of people who were deeeefinitely my age dressed up in black robes, in Dumbledore beards, sporting red-and-gold ties (and of course, the occasional rebellious green-and-silver) reminded me that Harry Potter, much like biking, is my ultimate escape. I am not exaggerating when I say that Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley (and later, Miss Weasley) got me through some of the roughest times in my life. 9/11. Leaving for college. Leaving college 4 years later. Break-up, upon break-up, upon break-up. Illnesses, death, losing friends for other reasons. JK Rowling deserves at least as much money as I've paid my (AMAZING) therapist because she has pulled me through time and time again.

I guess she probably has that much money. Or you know, 300mil times that.

The point is, Harry Potter is awesome. If you don't think so, that's great too. Whatever gets you through the day, yanno? Because when people are having truly TRULY crap days, whether they're because of work or boyfriends or terrorist attacks or your country defaulting on its loans, if something can make you smile I say go for it (unless it's illegal. Well... illegal for a good reason. Like cocaine. Don't do it. It's not a good idea!). Reading - not watching - HP makes me so happy I could burst out singing an operetta, but I realize that there are people who would prefer to see Daniel Radcliffe fighting Ralph Fiennes to the death (what. Please. You knew that, or else you haven't read the books OR seen the movie).

Some peeps would rather see DR on Broadway. With no pants on.

It's not really my place to judge (although I do it all the time) and for that I am sorry. Mostly. Because I did mean it, I really can't stand people asking me how I'm going to feel tomorrow. If there was a day I was tragically sad, it was July 21st (through maybe the 22nd) 2007. Four years later, I'm opening that first book again, and I'm not upset at all. Because tomorrow's FRIDAY. I don't have WORK on the weekends (usually).

And I think I have some reading to do.

I read the books.

2011-07-14T09:51:00.005-04:00

I know the last movie of the Harry Potter franchise comes out today. You'd have to be deaf, blind or the type of person who doesn't utilize her New York Times paywall subscription to the point that in the last month the NYT reports she's read just under 600 articles.

I am none of those people.

In addition to the ridiculous paid and free marketing going on, so many people have asked me how excited I am to see this movie. "I know you're a huge Harry Potter fan" they say. "How sad are you going to be Friday morning when it's all over."

Yeah. It's FRIDAY. Ima be THRILLED.

It's hard at this point not to snap "I READ THE BOOKS!" because I've said it 100 bagillion times to anyone who listens, or asks which movie is my favorite, or you know, looks at me the wrong way, and the 101st bagillionth time it sounds likes I'm judging people who only watch the movies.

Which I am, I guess. But not TOO harshly.

I know that not everyone's a reader. And I know most people aren't a re-reader in the way I am. My copies of Harry Potter (or the Hunger Games, or any of Madeleine L'Engle's books) are so dog eared, so tear stained, soooooo thumbprinted with tomato sauce or sea water or chicken noodle soup (I eat Lipton's, in case you were wondering) that it's like a mini collection of my personal history of the past 23 or so years of my life that I've been a re-reader.

I love my books, I do. Just in a different way than others.

The problem is, people expect you to love the movie adaptions of these things as well, as though anything at all related to your obsession is good enough. Well I'm here to tell you that's not true. In fact, it's blatantly false. While I loved (LOVED!!) going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, I pretty much had to be coerced not only into loving it, but going in the first place. Still, I was a bit of a whiner. After the first few "that's not in the books!" Joey had enough of me and pointed her wand at me and threatened to cast a spell of silence if I didn't shut up.

So I did. She had a WAND.

The rest of the day rocked. But that was a hands on experience, one that sure, didn't make me a witch (or not quite) but made me feel as non Muggley as possible. The books do more than that. Because they are written such that we can understand what's going on Harry's head and no one else's, we become Harry. We feel his pain, we love Ginny Weasley a ton and Ron and Hermione maybe even a little more. We hate Voldemort for killing our parents and we seek revenge against him. Most of all, we are ELATED when we find we are wizards, DESTROYED when (SPOILER ALERT) Cedric dies, and GRIMLY DETERMINED to make sure no one gets hurt who wasn't absolutely necessary, all in OUR name.

Seriously. That's how I feel.

At WWOHP it wasn't Harry's life I was living, it was mine. But I was MA drinking a butterbeer, MA watching a wand pick her best friend, MA sitting next to her other best friend (clutching her hand - hard) while a Dementor gave chase.

In the movie theatre I am just MA, girl who paid $11 to see special effects.

My point is that the experience is not the same. AT ALL. And maybe some people prefer being on the periphery and watching the battle (as opposed to sobbing through it because you feel you're a part of it). And maybe it's sort of crazy and a bit of a personality flaw to be that involved with a literary character, or in a world that doesn't exist except in JK Rowling's (and so many other people's) imagination. And maybe I should stop trying to even compare the two.

But everyone keeps ASKING.

So here's my answer. I'm not going to see the movie tonight, although I am going to see it (which I can't say for all of the other ones. I stopped watching them after the third started impinging upon my brain's version of the story, altho I've seen the 6th and parts of the 5th). I plan to go Saturday, mostly so I can see the one scene that makes my heart soar every time I read it in the flesh (in the... screen?).

I'm not that excited. Because I know how the story ends and during the past four years my imagination has carefully crafted a wonderful way that looks. There is no way whatever gets thrown up on that screen will match my brain at all. Not because I'm particularly good at it (although I am, did you know? I'm supa smaht) but because in my head, it is real while in the Regal Cinema at Gallery Place it is just a movie.

I'll see it, but the morning after won't bring any sort of tragedy to my life, because for me the journey ended in July 2007. And yet it has continued to go on, every single time I re-read the 1st book for the 30th time, or the 7th book for the 18th, or any of the ones in between. That is because I READ THE BOOKS, damnit.

And Ima keep living Harry's life as long as I can.

"Buy me a keg, and I won't burn your fucking house down."

2011-07-13T13:42:00.001-04:00

Thank you Jon Stewart for making me laugh about this debt limit craziness (if I said nonsense, which was my first inclination, I feel like that implies I feel that it's a junk debate, while in fact, I think it's a very IMPORTANT debate, that I wish the Republicans would start having).

In other words "what are you supposed to do with [them]? It's like a doctor consulting with a patient who believes strictly in magic. 'Broken legs? Nothing a frog wing and fire dance and some rhinoceros tusk boner powder can't cure.'" Only unfortunately, this isn't some... crazy pseudo-science movie from the 1950s (right? Fire dance? Rhinoceros tusk boner powder?!?!?!). This is real life. Boo.

my first dry - and arranged - marriage

2011-07-12T10:42:00.001-04:00

Huh. That title makes it sound like I got married. But I assure you, I did not.

Anyway!

As summer wears on I've found that I've had a wedding event every weekend since I got back from Italy, excluding the weekend when I had to say no to a wedding in Boston (boo!), and the weekend I was in NJ for my grandfather's 90th birthday.

So, still open bar and buffet?

Many of the events are still prep events (my brother's fiancee's shower, my bff Maria's bachelorette) but there have been a few weddings in and among the calendar as well, and this past weekend was one of those. I'm recapping not just because I expect there to be a few more serious recaps in the next few months (sorry) but also because this was the first time a friend ever had a dry wedding.

And the first time I've ever witnessed an arranged marriage.

My grandparents (Italians, not Irish-Americans) were matched together, as well as many of our family in that generation, so it's not like it's a whole new thing for me. But this is a friend of mine from college (a relatively respected midwest institution) and so this certainly was out of my normal scope.

That doesn't mean I didn't have FUN!

It just meant that, unlike other times when I've been reluctant to see grooms of my friends (see: my friend Suzie's wedding shortly after I started this blog. Also, the first wedding in which I was a bridesmaid), this time it was because... I dunno. Who WAS this guy? I mean, clearly my friend had met and liked him, and he is from the Jerz so that's nice, but all I knew is that he was deemed suitable for the girl who taught me to apply liquid eyeliner.

Weird, but that's my point. Utterly surreal.

So here we go. 5th wedding of 2011, but second recap (whoops). Arranged, sans booze. I bet you mostly know how this is going to go:

11 in "11" - Wedding Recap 2

Who: a friend from college who I met when I became her RA. We're the same age and much like a bunch of girls you've heard about on the blog, we quickly shed that authoritative relationship and rocked out (here's look at you NY Sam).
What: the ceremony had been held (actually, several ceremonies had been held) abroad in the bride's home country back in January, so mostly this was a party, although there were some traditional elements in the way the couple was presented.
Where: near my parents' house in New Jersey (groom is from the next town over)
When: July 2011
Why: both Joey and I felt terrible about missing the out of town celebrations, but as she had just started studying for the bar and I had just used up my last vacation day for Christmas, neither of us had the ability (or wherewithal) to attend. Luckily, the NJ-based ceremony was 20ish minutes from my parents house, so we hopped over to the Jerz to celebrate.
How: I was gonna catch a ride with a different friend to Princeton but at the last minute that sort of fell apart so instead I took a Greyhound bus from the Union Station terminal to Port Authority in Manhattan. I then took a NJ Transit bus to the station closest to my parents' house with Joey, where we spent Friday night (she in the guest room, me in Grace's old room, yeehaw!). We borrowed my mom's car on Saturday to attend the wedding, and my mom decided to drive me back to DC yesterday to visit with me (but mostly Gracie who she misses a lot).
Drink(s) of choice: virgin strawberry dacquiris, diet coke.
Highlight: a simply AMAZING Bollywood-esq rendition of the couple's relationship, made by the sister and brother (mostly sister) of the bride in their home country. They recounted the groom's family's history, the meeting that took place between the groom and the bride for the first time, and mocked my friend mercilessly for her shopping ways. It was truly fabulous.
Lowlight: No booze. Period.
Music grade: DJ was good for a NJ wedding, but this was a Desi affair. There was tons of Sinatra and Ke$ha, but what everyone wanted was good old fashioned dance time. He had the music - the bride's sister had provided him with a full flash drive of songs - and he should have better read the crowd. C.
Lessons learned:

I had forgotten about DST - Desi Standard Time. The invite said 12, the party got started around 2. I'm worried I'm losing my NJ street cred.
Arranged marriages can be just as happy as others - there were several I saw there who were in their 30s and seemed to truly like each other. Of course, since arranged marriages have a much lower divorce rate than others, this was nice to see!
The United States is sort of bent upon keeping the spouses of green card holders out. That's effing ridiculous. I hate our immigration system.
I want to wear saris. ALL THE TIME.
When going to a more um, conservation wedding, cover up the boobs and break out the make-up. It's the only way to be. I went light on the aforementioned eyeliner and heavy on the cleavage. It was a mistake, to say the least.

Selective Anglophilia

2011-07-09T01:32:00.002-04:00

Let me be clear.

While I did not care for the whole William's n Kate's Magical Day, because I dunno, I guess I liked weddings (and most things in my life) if they are related to ME as opposed to NOT, that doesn't mean I don't occasionally have Beatlemania or Union Jack fever or whatever you want to call it.

Britain is GREAT (see what I did there?).

British accents are the best. Posh, Scottish, cockneyed, whatever. AWESOME. Or should I say... actually, that's probably the same (like table in Love Actually). I think their Parliament is pretty darn cool - I think Congress could be improved if everyone sort of choked and chortled instead of thinly pressing their lips into a line and thinking about their next fake and bake (here's looking at you John Boehner), if they even show up at all. Harry Potter? Check. Football?

Bend it like MA likes it.

However, much like weddings of peeps I don't know, I'm not really into tabloids in the US (I know, I'm an awful person blah blah blah I don't care) and while I'll certainly flip through the latest Us Weekly when I'm waiting on line at CVS, the truly horrendous tabloid shit (like the ones in Europe and especially the UK) makes me feel bad for people who are famous, which isn't fun at all because mostly I tend to believe if you make oodles of money and can do whatever the hell you want even if it's doucherific (and that's you, Chris Brown), you're pretty much on your own where my pity is concerned.

Was that one long sentence?

Anyway, the thing with News of the World is that there is the one aspect of tabloids that I find interesting - Rupert Murdoch. He is a poohead, which is the nicest thing I can say about him. As a person I have no opinion on him but as a media mogul I blame him for a great deal of what's wrong with the news today. And not just Fox News!

Although you know, they are a large percentage of it.

But the NY Post which is a terrible, terrible paper. The Wall Street Journal, which used to be a good sources for smart commentary "on the other side of the aisle" has become, since the Murdochs took it over, Fox News for smarty pants who occasionally read something other than WSJ/FoxNews.com. In addition to supporting crap journalism, no one - NO ONE - should have that much power. His professional arrogance, his role in dumbing down the American masses, and his involvement and adoration of Brits that are simply awwwwwwful (Mags Thatcher, Davey Cameron) - all these lead to my wish to see Mr. Murdoch taken down in the style of Citizen Kane (NOT William Randolph Hearst, thankyouverymuch).

And so. For once, whilst the world is riveted by the English, I count myself among them. I can't stop reading all the articles on this phone hacking scandal, and I hope whatever news Rebekah Brooks was talking about when she said everyone would "understand" why they had to close the paper is sensational and fantastic and ends the Murdochs without hurting anyone else.

Of course it won't.

But until then, I'll be up early in the morning to read the Lede and the Guardian, to check in on any developments that arose overnight, to comment on the pieces and then check back early and often to see if anyone replied. I haven't YET gotten to the point where I'm interested in Rupert's every move (or outfit) but I don't think I'm that far away.

So enjoy fact that royalty had/is having a lovely trip through Canada ("comes from Canaaaaaadia" - points to the winner) and California, if that's your sort of thing. I hear you, except when we say "royalty" I mean "media conglomerate" and when we say "had a lovely trip" I mean "fell flat on their faces because karma's a bitch."

Forza Inghilterra!

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-07-08T10:20:00.000-04:00

Apparently I'm more annoyed this week than pleased. My verbosity (or lack thereof) sort of shocks me!

People Who Rock:

Carvel ice cream cake;
Caroline for pushing me on my running;
Emma Watson for being pretty much the cutest thing ever;
Suzanne Collins. I love Peeta;
My mom for visiting next week;
Andrea Bocelli; and
My therapist. Also, my antidepressants. I feel normal, and that's highly unusual for me.

People Who Suck:

Rupert Murdoch. Dude. WTF. This is low, even for your most scummy lowness;
Similar vein: James Murdoch, Rebekah Brooks (fka Wade), Andy Coulson, and yes, you too David Cameron (also - Cherie Blair? Really?!?!);
Maryland Republicans for forcing a popular vote on the DREAM Act. You're assholes. So is everyone who signed your petition. The point of representative government is to let elected officials make the decisions. It's "if I lose, I'm going to pretend we're a democracy". I can't wait for Maryland to become the Arizona of the East Coast. Ugh;
The agriculture community, at least as far as those supporting "ag gag" legislation. I really love meat, but I'm seriously becoming a localterian, which means I'll eat a TON less (dude, good eggs are expensive). It's terrible what the agriculture business does to the people who pick fruits/vegetables, and to the animals that provide us with the fruits of their labor (and life). I'm trying to run through everything in my freezer and then I'm going local;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five. Just cause he isn't playing a role in the shutdown doesn't change this, at all;
In a slightly less important note, George Lucas. Srsly man? It was a random bar marathon. Star Wars fans are super devoted to you and this is how you treat them? Ass; and
Facebook. TAKE THE PICTURES DOWN. Let me be clearer. Not asking you to take down someone else's profile. Just to TAKE DOWN THE PICTURES OF ME ON SOMEONE ELSE'S PROFILE, WHO IS FALSELY REPRESENTING THEM AS HER. I'm already on Google+. Don't make me convert entirely.

In which I am an elitist.

2011-07-07T13:20:00.005-04:00

(Orrrr is that every post?)

So.

I read a LOT of Jezebel during the day, mostly because they have stories I'd miss otherwise and also, I love the commenting community. There is also a bit of me that likes to rain down judgementalism when the writers decide to hate on G. Paltrow or show the slightest bit of hypocrisy, like in their comparisons of the DSK case with the "rape cop" case.

Yeah. I know. It's probably envy but it's also good for them! I think?

Anyway, in the end I love them. And so I'd like to draw all y'alls collective attention to this post from two days ago where Margaret Hartmann (who I never get angry with. She's not a Paltrow hater and she's remarkably even keeled and consistent. In case you were wondering what I thought about a person I don't know) takes us through the results of some study that purports to explain why women with more education tend to have less children. Science says that it's actually not the causal relationship we think it is - it is inverted. Having less children actually allows women to continue their education for much longer. Duh.

(In other news, does "science says" sound like a terrible but extremely marketable TV-game-show-for-our-times to anyone else? Anyone? Bueller? Glenn Beck?)

Erm, ok. While I totes get that, because you know - IT MAKES A RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF SENSE have you ever SEEN HOW MUCH TIME A CHILD CAN SOAK FROM A DAY - I'm going to go ahead and say that there is some omitted variable bias in this survey. That's right! And because apparently I'm brilliant and also, quite pretty (I forget where I was going with this? Was I going to say "incredibly self-centered and overly confident in my abilities? No? Well maybe I should have) I'm going to let you all in on what this omitted variable is.

Elitism!

But not in the bad way (is there ever a bad way? Does the fact that I'm asking that suggest to you that I am clearly elitistissima?). Essentially, more educated women have more education (also duh), and therefore PROBABLY more knowledge (but not definitely!) than their less educated counterparts. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing if we are to believe LeFou from Beauty and the Beast because it causes you to think. EEP! And when I educated women start to think about the long term implications of rearing a child, and their own current qualifications for being a parent, who can blame me them if I some of them run away screaming "I'M NOT READY, I'M NOT READY!!!!"

What. ~~I'm~~ they're NOT!

I don't mean to imply this is only about children. In an anecdote that I hope shows I'm not trying to be cliched, this "I know things. That makes me suspect/realize I'm not prepared for X" I was recently told by someone close to my family that I should write things down and send them off to the NYTimes because he was sure loads of people agreed with me. And while I was intensely flattered, and also, kind of shocked that he thought other people were as fan-boy liberal as I am, there was no way in HELL.

IN HELL!

That I was going to write an op-ed (eurgh, makes me anxious thinking about it) for the Times. Why? Because I have opinions on public policy, yes, but I also know enough to know that I am in no way an expert. In ANYTHING. Well, perhaps other than in "working from bed because it is 95 degrees outside and I sweat like the Italian-American you'd never know I am because somehow I got the skin tone of my Irish mother and that's what people remember about you not your curly hair, thighs and glands."

I suppose I am also an expert in being distracted/whining.

Anyway, when I think about having children, the sheer enormity of responsibility that it entails overwhelms me. I don't make enough money, project a stable enough emotional structure, live close enough to my parents, nor have I yet decided which languages my fetus is going to listen to in utero. And while my overly educated female friends may not cite those reasons for being childless, they are in the same vein. "Not prepared enough."

There are of course plenty of people I know who have kids (though with the exception of Eva, I'm not sure if any of the moms my age that I know have post-collegiate degrees). And so this all may be a bunch of bullshit, as may most of the things I write in this blog.

But.

I think that highly educated women (and men too!) have shown their willingness, and even their propensity for, overthinking things. And that's good. I like having a president who clearly runs through options and arguments and solutions, rather than just poking his finger at a piece of paper (or worse, his Mr. Potter-esq VP) and saying "THAT ONE!" before settling into a bag of pretzels.

(Cheap shot. I'm sorry.)

I also worry, however, that if there keeps being a growing disparity between highly educated (which is historically correlated with well paid) women/peeps and their less educated, less "in the weeds" colleagues, that can't be that good for society. Even JUST in terms of class, it's bad when money is getting passed from the hands of the few to the hands of the fewer while the masses want for more (money, but also food, clothes, books, etc). But it also isn't very good for society when the less-than-stellar-minded men and women alike I knew once upon a time in high school (think "The Situation" but actually FROM NJ) are popping out a baby every other year, and my lawyer friends are too concerned about their hours at work (understandably) to even THINK about reproducing anytime soon.

Yeah, it's elitist to think this way. But... that's my point.

Happy Birthday, America!

2011-07-04T05:37:00.002-04:00

The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

People Who Rock. People Who Suck. The "whoopsies" version.

2011-07-01T13:26:00.002-04:00

So right, that didn't happen. What did was drunken (well, tipsy) loveliness. Oopsies! Thus we start this week's (months/3 months/half year's) PWR/PWS knowing I will make an appearance on the latter. Much love!

People Who Rock:

My friend Joey whose birthday is TODAY, my friend Anna who is GRADUATING today, my mama whose birthday is toMORrow, my friend (can I use your real name, you know who you are) who is getting MARRIED tomorrow, my genitori who are celebrating 29 years of marriage (why yes that is my age plus one, I was born 10 months after their wedding) on SUNDAY, my grandparents who are celebrating 63 (hooooly shit) years of marriage on Monday, and America! Happy 235th birthday! You don't look a day over 190;
Caroline, Joey, and Maria for forming a running support group that is almost definitely just for me, even though they say otherwise. Thanks girls!;
The City of Chicago, the staff at the W. Jackson Giordano's, the concessions man on the train between MKE and CHI, the bartendress at the Milwaukee airport who let me sit for a few hours charging my computer and working, and the people at the Signature Lounge who let me nurse my Lakeshore Lemonade while taking pictures and meditating;
Jon Stewart. I love him;
JK Rowling. Even though I don't really understand Pottermore I'm so happy you wrote those books;
Anonymous and other hacker groups. I know, it's sort of weird that they "rock". But while I don't agree with everything they do, and I understand it's illegal, they haven't done something so egregious that I think they crossed a line. We live in a different world now, and it's time for people to realize that. In so many ways, the world is flatter and flatter by the DAY (whether or not you think that's a good thing, it's true) and Anonymous and their cohorts are part of our future. Their recent takedown of the city of Orlando for being super douches was well down. Plus, they remind me of Lisbeth Salander, who as a literary character is one of my faves, and that's good enough for me; and
Pixar. I forgive you for Cars 2. But don't let Disney win again.

People Who Suck:

ME. I'm sorry, I be better reeeeeeeeeeeeal soon;
Silvio Berlusconi. Just cause you paid some doctor to say you can have sex up to five times a day doesn't change the fact that you've stagnated your beautiful country for nearly 20 years and are a racist, sexist, douche bag. In this case, your (alleged) virility can be used as a metaphor only for the rising power of Italians to make you go AWAY;
Kansas, Indiana, and all the states that are currently fucking with Planned Parenthood. You're dumb. That is all;
Mark Halperin. You're a dick. And I'm not sorry for saying it, not even fake sorry;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five. Just cause he isn't playing a role in the shutdown doesn't change this, at all;
Justices Thomas, Scalia, Alito and Roberts. Mostly Justice Thomas. But all of them. You're ruining my dream job; and
Facebook. Yeah, I'm looking at you bitches. I have given you a ridiculous amount of proof at this point that that rando is using pictures of me. TAKE THE PICTURES DOWN. I'm not asking for you to take down the profile! That's life! BUT TAKE THEM DOWN NOW.

sometimes you feel like a nut

2011-06-22T11:50:00.001-04:00

i sort of feel like i'm going crazy (1 2 3 4 5 6 switch?). i have fabulous days where i apply to a bunch of jobs, but on those days i can't force myself to cook or do laundry. i go to therapy, but i don't shower beforehand. i get my work done, but it has to be from my house not the office because the office requires grown up clothes and i am currently sporting shorts and a tshirt.

or a towel. depending on whether or not i've showered in the morning or evening.

i know that there's a bunch of research on "you only have so much willpower" but this sort of seems to be ridiculous. this morning i woke up, showered, ate a (relatively) healthy breakfast and put my laundry in the machine. i worry that this means i will not go to the gym, will not check into my flight on time, will not do all the things i have to do before tomorrow when i leave for chitown.

crazy? maybe lazy?

i dunno. all i know is that it's one or the other. dry cleaning and prescriptions or groceries. if i do go to the office, you better believe i'm going to eat crap for lunch. and if i cook dinner, that means that the dishes will languish overnight (if not for days). i wish i could say there's not enough time in the day but um, i'm sitting here blogging (hi y'all!) and yesterday i watched toy story 3 and soooooobbbbbbbeeeeeed.

btw - fine everyone who told me it was amazing, it was.

maybe i'll blame the heat. it's HOT MAN. and you know, it's SUMMERTIME! the law says the living is EASY (and by law, clearly i mean george gershwin). who wants to put on a suit and go sit with a bunch of stuffy assholes only to be yelled at by a whiny asshole WITHOUT promising yourself that you can have ben and jerrys for lunch? and who wants to go to the gym AND THEN have to lug pounds of dirty smelly clothes to the basement?

the showering thing actually WAS running out of time.

but whatever it is, i'm sort of over it already. i got SHIT to do, brain/willpower/body/fathertime/weatherchannelgods. applying to jobs, buying some new dresses, going through a few months accumulated mail. mama's ready to GO.

but first maybe mama will take a nap? ima tirzzzzzz

My Poppy is 90!

2011-06-19T01:21:00.002-04:00

Alright I don't call him Poppy but I do call him something relatively unique so let's pretend, shall we? Excellent, glad to have you on board.

I'm in New Jersey for the second time in as many weeks (and will be back very soon in July) but this time it's not for a wedding. As you may have discerned (may? Seriously?) it was my grandfather's 90th birthday this week and we are celebrating!

Wooooooosniffle.

I dunno if it's just cause I've had a slightly more emotional week than normal, or because I have a special relationship with my grandfather, or because I HAD a special relationship with my other grandfather.

Or just you know - 90 is a big fucking deal!

The point is, I am WEEPY. And that was just over downloading Louis Prima songs for background music tomorrow. No joke, "Ti Amo" (Umberto Tozzi versione) came on my iTunes and I welled up. It wasn't my proudest moment.

(Nor my least proud - song is AMAZING!)

Grace is in charge of putting together the slide show for tomorrow's party and she has done an amazing job. Even though I spent my evening about 15 ft away from her as strains of "Wonderful World" echoed through the wooden-floored-house for hours, when I finally saw the (near) finished project, I burst into tears as Mr. Armstrong thought to himself, what a wonderful world.

Sigh.

I know that at nearly-30 I am RIDICULOUSLY lucky to have 1 grandparent alive, much less three (THREE!). Other than, you know, my siblings, I can't think of anyone else with that many of their grandanythings alive, and I have them plus all my grandmothers' sisters (4 on the Italian, 1 on the Irish) and a multitude of brothers (at least 2, maybe three on the Italian, and 2 on the Irish), many of whom will be there tomorrow.

Peeps in my fam hold ON (sometimes I think out of spite. But I'm also hoping genes).

Anyway, the problem (annnnnnnd poor little rich girl: GO!) with being nearly 30 with three lovely grandparents and several great-aunts and uncles still around is that they're still an integral part of my life. When my mother's father passed away, it was a rough 8 or so months where there were a lot of trips to western NJ to check in, hope for second chances, and finally say goodbye. The following 8 months were equally hard as I/we had to adjust to NOT going out there all the time. It's been three years and I still feel very much attached to my grandfather - I figure, he was around for 24 years of MY life so if I'm following standard break-up rules he's still got another 9 or so before I'm "over" it.

What. You guys don't think this way?!

My Poppy is still around, and that means that at this point he gets 14 years. Right? So I'd be... 42. That's a ridiculously long time from now. I sort of figure if I haven't grown up by then I'm totally screwed. And he's (relatively) healthy! What am I supposed to do without him if he lives another 4-10 years?! My Granny (great grandmother) lived until 94 (no relation, but whatever!) and the Italians have at least one or two 100+ in their midst.

MY LIFE IS SO FUCKING HARD WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE I LOVE!!!

But it's morbid and terrifying to think this way for very long. I love my Poppy, and tomorrow (well, today I guess) is his day. Not just cause it's Father's Day (btw, readers-who-are-fathers (are there any of you?) - HAPPY YOU DAY!), but because tomorrow/today is the chance my family (only about 80 of them but still!) will take to honor a man who deserves it. A man who:

Was born the same year that the war between the US and Germany/Austria/Hungary officially ended. You know, the first one.
Fought in the second World War on the side of the Italians (yes I know, it's awful) for a few weeks in Albania before the Italians switched over from the Axis to the Allies. For that "betrayal" (I'd like to think of it as "coming to their collective senses over a plate of pasta") he spent the rest of the war in a concentration camp in Germany building walls during the day only to tear them down at night and start again in the morning. It's unclear if there were gas chambers at his camp, but there certainly were American bombing raids. He survived and lived to (rarely) tell the tale of hiding in ditches from bombs, and to not only visit the country that had imprisoned him later in life, but to help them rebuild (I guess all that wall-training came in handy!).
Has been in a 63 year relationship with a woman who he had no control in marrying. And I love my grandmother, but she can be a HANDFUL. Yet on their 50th anniversary as my cousins and I did readings and they renewed their vows, he wept with joy and could barely get out how happy and lucky he considered himself.
Had the foresight to get his young family the hell out of Italy (love it, I do, but cmon - s'falling apart) and to the United States, where he worked backbreaking outdoor jobs to provide. I'm not saying my dad had it easy - he didn't at all - but under my grandfather's leadership they came together as a family and now my uncle is a doctor of some sort of science (I wanna say chemistry?) and has patented several... sciencey things (I wanna say... science... processes?) and my father runs a major factory in New Jersey.
Has 7 grandchildren, 1.5 (as in, 2 in August) grandchildren-in-law, and one great-grandchild. All are college graduates (ok, the baby isn't. Sue me) and are relatively successful for a bunch of mostly 20somethings. My grandfather's highest level of education was 8th grade I believe, and I think he would count this among his greatest accomplishment.
Still can recognize my voice over the phone, even when I'm calling when it's windy and I'm speaking Itanglish and he's forgotten to put in his hearing aid.
Has lived, to the fullest extent, for 90 years.

I love my Poppy. I love ALL dads (happy happy!). I love my family. Annnnnnnnnnd ima cry again.

new york state legislators: make my pact possible!

2011-06-17T08:51:00.004-04:00

So.

We've all seen these things called pacts. Whether it was between Julia Roberts and Dermot Mulroney (mmmm) in My Best Friend's Wedding, or Rachel/Ross and Phoebe/Joey (and Phoebe/Ross, but that's besides the point) in Friends, Hollywood is set on the idea that 20somethings across America are making pacts with their closest friend but NOT significant other that "if we're both unmarried when we are fillintheblank, let's marry each OTHER".

Well I'm here to bring a little Hollywood to life.

You see, my friend Joey and I were talking the other day about all these weddings we have this year. And while we both agree that neither of us is in A Place to be married ourSELVES (sorry if I'm putting words in your mouth Jo), we were commiserating about all the gifts we were getting for other people when really, all we wanted to do was give gifts to US!

This may have something to do with why we're not Ready.

However, it's true - these days, many a person's twenties and thirties are spent attending super fabulous parties for OTHER PEOPLE. And if you're as self-centered (not selfISH. Just focused on myself) as I am, and to some extent, as Joey is, that's WONDERFUL but sort of anathema to our very existences.

Cause hello - it's all about me! Us! Whatever!

And if you're like me, and there's no one on your matrimonial horizon, and yet you find every Saturday from now until October booked with showers, bachelorettes, lingerie parties, dress fittings and so much more, it can get wearying.

(Engaged/recently married friends - I'm really happy for you! I SWEAR! Just drained. In more ways than one. But couldn't be more thrilled for you, honest to Zeus.)

You start to wonder - what if this never happens to me? Not in the weepy way (I'm thinking 27 Dresses. Or maybe more like He's Just Not That Into You, Bridget Jones, or The Bachelor (nuther Renee Zellweger film, not the one you people watch with Ashley and some guy who has a car's name)). If anything, watching a bunch of my best friends tie the knot has been a sobering experience in how I'm not sure I've ever loved someone as much as they love their significant others, other than my family.

In a not weird, properly worded way.

However, I AM worried about getting a big fat MA party! All about me! Presents that I got to pick out IN ADVANCE without anyone judging me (too harshly). Everyone having to look the other way when I get a teensy bit psycho and demand crazy things. Food that I love, music that I picked (BON JOVI! SINATRA! BILLY JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEL!), line dances and open bar and cocktails named after ME.

Wow. That is def one of the more attractive things I've ever written.

My point is that regardless of the fact that there is no one even remotely in my life that I plan to settle down with (and even if there was, I still have a LOT of livin' - and growin' up - to do), I'm worried about my marital future.

And so I made a pact.

With Joey of course. There were loads of people I suppose I could have chosen. Well... maybe not LOADS but certainly others, however Joey makes the most SENSE. We've been saying since we met that we should get married, we get along ridiculously well, we've already had (AND WORKED OUT) the one "big fight" that all couples keep coming back to, I have never once doubted the way Joey feels about me and makes me feel (duh, GREAT), plus, we look AWESOME in pictures together.

There's just one small problem.

Joey is short for Josephine. As in, my girlfriend in the friend-that-is-a-girl sense Joey. Now as much I would love it if I were attracted to women (life would be so much easier! Or harder. Whatever, grass is greener and all that) I am simply not oriented that way. Neither is Joey.

But.

With the world FINALLY starting to see the light that is marriage equality, and the New York State Senate supposedly taking up the issue toDAY (I got my eye on you Skelos, and I'm happy to move to Lawn Guyland to kick you outta office), why should we be any different? In Hollywood, sure, a lot of these pacts are signaling that the pact-ees should really truly be together foreeeeever. But some of them don't! Some are just best friends who wouldn't mind sharing a house and getting the attendant ~~massive party~~ tax break.

And if we're 40 and unmarried, that will be us.

There are a few stipulations of course. Cheating is SO on the table it's practically as engraved as our initials in the best pizzeria/bakery on campus in Chicago. And if bigamy is ever legalized, we're inviting Maria into our union.

I guess her fiance-at-that-point-husband can come too.

And maybe sometime in the next twelve or so years, we'll meet people as fabulous and hot and amazing and smart and funny and into Harry Potter/the Hunger Games/Friends/talking trash about soccer as we are. And maybe when we do we'll be able to pull an Ingrid Michaelson vis a vis the refrain of "Die Alone".

But if not.

At least we have each other! Each other, and a big party! Each other, a big party, and residences in New York, Rome and Sao Paulo! Each other, a big party, fabulous houses, and Friends quotes! Each other, a big party...

This could go on forever. And... that's kind of my point.

y'all suck at being mean

2011-06-16T11:01:00.001-04:00

i went to the gym. but not because anyone (ok that's a lie - a few of you did!) called me on it. 20 minutes super hard run (more than 2 miles which is a LOT for me... averaged out to about 9:08 a mile). then i showered and ate pizza.

be back in a bit with an interesting (well, maybe) post!

Inevitable remorse

2011-06-13T18:43:00.003-04:00

So the wedding this weekend was lovely! People ~~lied about~~ commented on how nice I looked in my dress as soon as I walked out of the church, the flower girls were snarkalicious during the ceremony, my bouquet was absolutely gorgeous and you know, two of my besties got married!

After that it sort of gets hazy.

Due to several circumstances (I ate 2 tbsp of rice, 1 piece of beef and approx 7 crackers with mini slices of cheddar until about 8pm, it was 90 degrees out at 6am and I sweat all the water out of my body before we even went outside to take photos, there was a very cute waiter who kept finding me with a bottle of wine AND... I needed some relief from... tension? Weddinged-outed-ness?) I got per-ret-tee drunk at the reception. Luckily, I stood up with the microphone and told an entirely true but not entirely appropriate story about meeting the groom thinking he was fab but then (all the while slurring my words) realizing that the bride was awesome and I'd rather be her friend than fuck up a relationship with her now husband.

So no one knew!

Add the aggressively forcing people onto the dance floor, requesting Don't Stop Believing or Living on a Prayer at least 16 time (each), INdiscreetly pouring all the leftover champagne into my mouth and glasses lined up in front of me, and getting down with my bad self/the groom's uncle/administrators from my grad school/the best man/Grad School Ex/anyone who was moving - you know.

It was a scene.

At the time, it was FABULOUS. I wasn't anywhere NEAR as drunk as I was last August immediately post my sad breakup and you know, subjected to a THREE HOUR COCKTAIL HOUR. In THAT toast, I called the groom a fucking asshole and then had the maid of honor translate it into Portuguese.

Sweet!

Anyway, so I didn't have sketchy interactions with friends I've had since I was 12. I didn't almost show my lady bits. I didn't fall asleep on the bus back to the hotel because I wanted to keep partying. Mostly, I just was inebriated. Not an obnoxious drunk, but obnoxiously drunk.

Sigh.

The next morning, as per usual when I've drank too much/can't entire recall what I said to whom/just wake up and am not immediately validated by 16 emails telling me how much people love me and how wonderful I am and smart and pretty too, I was freaked out. It didn't help that GSE was like "yeah you were a litttttttle aggressive and inapprops" and then when I freaked out even more he didn't IMMEDIATELY retract the statement, send me 2X my necessary validation emails and you know, purchased me a large cookie.

To be fair.

On a normal day I wake up wracked with self-doubt. What did I eat last night, who did I forget to email, am I going to be fired from a job I (don't love but) need, am I ever going to pay my credit card bill, what am I doing with my life are all my friends going to get married and leave me and OH MY GOD AM I PREGNANT I BET I AM.

But throw in alcohol?

There is a special brand of self-loathing remorse that comes out with a hangover. It's scathing, it's unforgiving, and it's like that little devil on your shoulder but there's no cute cherubim to balance it out, plus the asshole is poking at your headachey skull with his little trident and saying "nobody likes you, everybody hates you, and by the way it's ALL YOUR FAULT."

Let me clarify a bit - I'm not saying this is what I'm thinking all the time. In fact, in the year since being diagnosed with the big D and after spending hours of my life in therapy and taking loads of happy pills I would like to think that I've seriously improved in this department. Most days it's not just false bravado when I look in the mirror and say "I'm awesome. I'm AWESOME. Seriously. Rock out."

But.

A drunk me, especially one that hung around with people I love but aren't QUITE on the same page as to level of drunkness or what's appropriate in social settings and oh wait also their families AND GSE - it's not good. It's like falling down the rabbit hole and coming out with terrible metaphors so you don't actually ever get to your point.

I swear I'm not hungover now. OR drunk.

The funny thing is, this has been true my enTIRE life. I wasn't a big drinker until after... well. Ok until after my 21st birthday but also when I was living in Italy when I was 19. So maybe I wasn't a big drinker until it was legal to be? And maybe there's remnant shame from when I was 14 and at my best friend's house and they all started drinking something terrible like Kahlua straight from the bottle and I self righteously called my parents because we were only 14 and I wasn't going to be That Kind of Girl.

True story!

Or maybe it's just the self doubt and anxiety that is omnipresent in loads of people's lives, and I just give into it when my defenses are down because they're so dehydrated. Whatever the reason, wouldn't you sort of think that after nearly 10 years, infinite amounts of headdesking, and not a few apologetic "can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk" themed-emails, that I'd just NOT DO IT.

Clearly, no.

But I sort of wish I had the self restraint to do it. Not because ONCE in all those times someone replied being like "yeah - friendship over". In fact, the bride and I chatted not too late in the day after the wedding and she was like "awesome party, right?" without even mentioning my behavior (perhaps I need to read my "it's not about you" post again). However, I know I'm going to feel awful in the morning. The hangover sucks (and has gotten worse since I turned 28, I swear) but there is nothing quite so awful as confronting your own demon with a trident.

So on pride weekend I could have gotten wasted and celebrated with everyone (instead I stayed sober and celebrated! YAY PRIDE MONTH) and tonight at trivia I could probably drink my weight in tequila and/or wine but I won't. Maybe this will actually last me through the summer (no) or at least through my grandfather's 90th birthday and Maria's bachelorette party.

Yet there is no doubt in my mind that at some point in the not too far future I will wake up, head pounding and mouth like the Sahara, wishing that I hadn't had that last (10) glasses of wine. Because now I will hate myself for the next 24 hours, and it's not worth the FABulous toasts, the Bon Jovi dance moves, and the yukking it up with grandpa.

Almost.

un po' weddinged out

2011-06-09T21:35:00.002-04:00

was it really only 9 days ago that i got back from italy? because it feels like it's been 9 WEDDINGS since then (although really, it's only been one. and by "been" i mean "will be this weekend"). i've received an invite PER DAY (on sunday, i received it via email) to weddings or wedding-related events. in fact, i don't remember which day i got two but since i'm staring at 10 invites, it musta happened.

i also had a shower last weekend (that my sister and i hosted for my brother's fiancee! it was lovely) and the wedding this weekend. i'm super excited about this wedding, as it's between two of my closest friends from grad school, is IN dc, and has three WHOLE tables of people i know and (mostly) love in attendance! add in the cutest flower "children" (3 girls 1 boy), a very attractive groom's family, and YEEHAW.

except i'm just exhausted.

i dunno if it's the heat (of course it is) or just the feeling that my summer of 2011 is inexorably linked to weddings or even just the "ok, i don't have any money or credit. how do i buy this gift?" it feels a little worse though. because for all my "this isn't about you" i'm still thinking of people's specialest day in terms of what it means for ME.

and that's no good.

maybe what i need is to take a weekend and go... i dunno, camping? what is the least weddingy thing you can think of? to chill out, not drink booze, maybe just sleep a little more healthily than i have been, and read a bunch of non-chick lit, non-Romantic, non-memoiry books.

or maybe i just need to get over myself.

because how cool is it that so many people who love each other are getting married this year? and how GREAT that they want me to be there! and at the shower/bachelorette/rehearsal/etc beforehand.

VERY cool. VERRRRRY great.

but because i have a wedding this weekend, i think ima go to bed. i know its 9:33pm, and that makes me sound like a grandmother, not a bridesmaid. but i am looking at all this shiny paper and while it makes me excited, it also makes me feel slightly overwhelmed. and so THAT i can be all about the bride on her day, i'm going to be a little selfish and be all about me right now. well, me, my stuffed animal i got in italy and maybe a spoonful of lambrusco or two.

How come

2011-06-08T19:16:00.003-04:00

NPR, the WaPo, the NYT and countless other legitimate news organizations will go to extreme lengths to find "Amina", the person who created the blog Damascus Gay Girl, but won't "use old fashioned shoe leather" to debunk talking points from people in our own country that are provably false.

Have you heard about this?

I'm feeling pretty self-righteous this week (I blame the heat) and the fact that Huma Abedin (Congressman Weiner's wife) is reportedly preggo does not help. Neither does Mo Dowd's column about how women can never trust men, the Senate almost voting to keep the high fees that stores have to pay to credit card companies, an idiot running for re-election in my home town even though he's the biggest motherfuckery douchebag out there, and the fact that it took a MAYBE fake "American" to get people in this country intrigued by Syria.

Ugh.

In short, the government of Bashar al-Assad is bad. Not like, "oh, I think this peach has a bruise" bad. Like, let's kill people who disagree with us (not only in our country, but you know, also in neighboring Lebanon!), let's force the vote so that we get nearly 100% support (just enough so that people can't claim COMPLETE hoax), let's mutilate and destroy a 13 year old boy JUST BECAUSE he was at a protest - not even an integral part of one! Just attending cause his friends were there! - that was in the hotbed of anti-government sentiment (RIP Hamza al Khatib), let's financially and otherwise support murderous Islamist groups in other countries solely because they are full of hate and want to obliterate Israel, which, for all its faults, has every right to exist, and then let's hide behind a wall of "secularism" so that the United States decides that we can be allies because oh no, we're not with the "terrorists", even though we're MUCH WORSE on the whole.

UGH!

This week, the previously mentioned Damascus Gay Girl blog captured the attention of people across the world as it was reported that this woman, Amina Arraf (with other versions of her name floating around), a Syrian-American lesbian living in Damascus, was kidnapped by the admittedly brutal forces in Syria. I myself tweeted #FreeAmina and kept a close watch on the last post to the blog, by "Amina's" cousin "Rania," to see if there were any updates.

And maybe we were all fooled.

Maybe there is no Amina. Maybe there is no Rania. Some super cool sounding dude (seriously. I wanna be known as a myth buster) at NPR has been digging into the story and found some relatively damning evidence, like the fact that the pictures posted of "Amina" belong to a Croatian-British woman living in London, and that no one has actually MET her in person.

Ok, so forget the "relatively".

Now the New York Times and the Washington Post have taken up the cause, rooting around in public records from Damascus to Georgia to find some proof this girl exists. It would sort of suck if she didn't, if only because you know, people GAVE a shit for a second and now they will forget. Worse, they might remember with skepticism anytime they hear about some super shady happening in Syria, which by the way is a state of omnipresent SKETCHINESS. But on the other hand, whoever this girl is (and if she is real, I really REALLY hope the US Embassy in Syria gets her out of wherever she is as soon as possible, and alive), she brought attention to an important issue.

The fact that media blows.

I'm not gonna go all Sarah Palin on your asses and despite being a rabid crazy Christian, try to pander to voters by wearing a Star of David in New York because oh wait, did you hear that they have Jews there? And delis?

Lost track for a second. Back now.

I'm not going to start calling them the "Lamestream Media" because I actually really value the reporting that the listed organizations (and many more!) do every day. On the rare occasion that I can't get the news, I start having palpitations and feel very cut off from the rest of the world, and find myself trying to translate Slavic languages over strangers' shoulders just so I can know if Pisapia won or not, damnit. And let's be honest - that's no fun for anyone but Pisapia.

Instead.

I'm going to say this. Next time some bullshit like the Andrew Breitbart cut and paste job of that ass-shit from New Jersey (fucker, ruining my rep)'s faking to be a pimp of underages girls, or trying to break into a Senator's office, or trying to "gotcha!" Planned Parenthoods into being what conservatives WISH they would be so they could JUST SHUT DOWN THE BIRTH CONTROL ONCE AND FOR ALL, hey! NPR! NYT! WAPO!

ANYONE?!

Please do some research. I know these things have eventually been outed, but waaaaaaay after they were first reported, and the damage was already done (especially in the case of, for example, ACORN). Not only that, but the aforementioned Sarah Palin has been parading around telling us patently false (or at the very VERY least, patently confused and mishmashed) version of Paul Revere - and she might run for President. Let's weigh a woman who may or may not exist but certainly brought attention to human rights violations happening in a country that we sometimes use as an ally if only because they're "not as bad as" Iran, VS, a woman who lots of people in our country might vote into office MAKING SHIT UP about our collective history and then going on to BOLDLY LIE about it when asked, and going so far as to blame the "media" (ie one rando dude who asked what she was doing and what she had done on her "Fake History of America" tour) for setting her up.

Sigh.

I know I probably shouldn't be angry at all, or maybe I should be angry at different people than the reporters at my abfave new organizations. But I hold the (real, not FoxNews) media to a standard that is higher than almost anyone - certainly politicians, many of my friends, family, even Mother Theresa and JK Rowling. It is their job in a democracy to bring the collective attention to where it is lacking. Whether that's abuses in Syria, or an idiot masquerading as a candidate for office, or 9/11 victims being shunned by Republicans except in an election year, or women being seen as second class citizens, unable to make our own decisions about our own bodies, or you know, ANYTHING that Jon Stewart covers and Anthony Weiner/Eliot Spitzer/John Edwards fought for - THAT IS YOUR JOB. WE ALL RELY ON YOU.

Because the only other people talking about it are on Comedy Central, screwing over their super awesome wives, and writing blogs under nom de plumes that may or may not reflect reality at all.

Well Mr. Weiner ruined that for me.

2011-06-07T11:50:00.002-04:00

So.

I had queued up this fabulous post about how in this day and age nearly everyone has a picture of their... bits (lady, male or otherwise scandalous. I'm talking boobs here people) from a cell phone or a long distance relationship or an ill-advised love interested.

Or all of the above!

And I was going to say, just because these photos exist doesn't make anyone a bad person or Congressperson (ehem cough cough). In fact, this is something we're going to have to deal with sooner rather than later - 2020 is the first year that people who were in college when facebook began will be eligible to run for president. I'm not saying that in 9 years we're going to be flooded with drunken half-nude photos of people who have done serious work to be taken seriously and also are probably not a terrible choice (and of course the drunken half-nude photos of the Sarah Palins of their age. Which I guess is Bristol Palin?).

My point was.

That this is sort of silly, all these "zomg, he had a picture of his pee pee! RESIGN RESIGN!" comments from the Andrew Breitbarts who are ruining our society because oh my GOD WHY DO PEOPLE TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY HE HAS MORE OF AN AGENDA THAN MATT DRUDGE.

I digress.

And then yesterday happened, and poor Mrs. Weiner, former aide to that other scorned woman Hillary Clinton (sigh. I'm already sick of the comparisons. Did YOU know that Bill Clinton performed the Weiners wedding ceremony?!) went from being someone who seems super cool to the next Silda Spitzer, and once again we were all left to wonder - what the fuck is it with men in power and thinking they're ridiculously hot (you're not Anthony. At all. You were sort of attractive when you were ranting on the floor of the House, but that has more to do with me being too liberal and nothing to do with you being too hot). Why do they think they are somehow above the machine that has brought so many down before them?

Why do they think the rules of marriage and commitment don't apply to them?

Because honestly, I don't care if my rep in Congress cheated on his or her spouse (first of all, I'd have to have a rep in Congress. Second of all, I wouldn't care, because growing up I was repped by the most conservative, legacied, ding bat of a man and an adulterer who agrees with me on the issues is definitely preferable). But I do care if the spouse of my friend does. And I do think that sexting with people who are not your wife, girlfriend, husband, significant other, boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever is cheating.

You may disagree.

So this sucks. Because I was going to be really funny, and tell the story about my own embarrassing photo, and we were going to laugh about my Republican exes and how Anthony Weiner has a pretty nice last name, etc etc.

Instead.

I just have to go ahead and said that Rep. Weiner shouldn't be forced to resign (and I'm glad he's not really thinking about it) because of this. I don't know why Rep. Lee did back in January, and I'm not going to say your sexual proclivities should be completely irrelevant (see: DSK, that FL congressman who was hitting on pages), but meh, he facebooked with young women who probably idolize him and were responding back.

But.

I thought he was one of the good ones. When I watched his rants on the floor of the House, aside from being strangely aroused, I was just really fucking happy that a Democrat (ie someone who agreed with me) wasn't pussyfooting (ugh poor word choice) around and being a wimp as some Democrats (Harry Reid) can be when being manhandled (JESUS CHRIST) by Republicans.

(This is playing into my former post now.)

And he still agrees with me, but now I just think he's sort of a shit. For doing this to his wife, for lying about it, for being just like the "rest of them". And so screw you Anthony. For ruining the joke on the Daily Show. For ruining my post on silly pictures. And for taking a freaking cock shot of yourself in tighty grey-eys.

So not hot.

Salaracious

2011-06-03T14:48:00.001-04:00

So.

When people find out that post Master degree (although I prefer "Mistress") I work for a private company that is Big in the DC metro area, they're like - zomg, I'm so jealous. When I assure them that I hate my job, as much or more than they do they always come back with "yeah, but you must be making BANK, right?"

Wrong.

My (relatively short) adult life has been spent trying to demystify the game known as "who gets paid what". This isn't an attempt to launch a class war, or even just to say that it is RIDICULOUS that teachers get paid teeny percentages of Wall Street bankers, when I think we all can agree that what teachers do helps everyone while what bankers do helps only themselves, and their already wealthy clients.

Ok that's not entirely fair, but true! And still beside the point.

And while what follows might sound like a bunch of "poor little middle class girl", I assure you that is not how it is intended. Though the anecdotes are of course (by definition) personal, and all salary information is my own, I think that this is somewhat extractable to the general Millenial population, at least those at the older end of the generation.

You know. Late 20s.

We graduated high school at the end of a massive economic boom, and watched it all get taken away - rapidly - as we plodded through Psych 101 or Marxist theory or advanced calculus (or whatever. I can't remember college, it was a long time ago!). The classes before me - 2002-2004 - were full of people grabbing straw jobs just to have something to do to pay off their student loan debt. By 2005 it was better - most of my friends were employed by the end of the calendar year in which we graduated, with OK salaries - you know, mid to high 30s in New York jobs (not banking) and slightly lower elsewhere.

We made rent. Barely. We worked overtime, and we were paid for it.

I don't know if it was coincidence that when I graduated from college it began to be trendy to discuss the pay gap between men and women, and how women don't negotiate or discuss salaries as well as men. Maybe it was always there and I just began paying attention. But my first experience post-graduation (at a Big Law firm where we were encouraged to NOT discuss salary increases) taught me that that only helps your company, not you, not your coworkers. I remember realizing that my raise had been quite larger than a friend's, and didn't know why - I neglected to mention this to him at the time, and I regret it now. Because if there were numbers behind it, then great. I was a fantastic (though incredibly disgruntled and unhappy) employee. I was productive, I stayed late when necessary and came in early more than I wanted. I got my shit done, on time, and above standard. But so did this guy. So why did I make more money? Was it something I didn't know about him?

Or was it because my boss liked me more.

Those and many other issues have confronted me throughout my 5ish years of work experience. Other examples: reasonable salary for a post-collegiate 9 to 5er in New York. I left my first company making more than 80K per year and dropped to somewhere in the mid 30s. It was devastating financially; I spent more savings than necessary, I moved to an apartment that was inconvenient to my job (though in lovely Hoboken) and just in general, did not realize that 50,000 was a LOT of money and it was about to go away.

That sucked.

After obtaining my Masters degree, I sort of figured I'd make up for lost time and hit - at bare minimum - 60K, assuming I worked for a nonprofit or a government entity. I was willing to go lower for something "cool" - you know. Senate, White House, whatever. But when it came to applying to jobs I was bereft (to be fair, I was bereft in general at this time, and so this doesn't really stand out). In the end, I applied to two jobs, was offered one, and took it, at a very well known private consulting company.

So here I am - 28, well educated, with great work experience. I have 6 years of post-high school education from good schools, and 4 full years of professional work experience at well-known companies. I've never had a bad review on my work product (ehem, sometimes I am told that I can be too, uh, casual), and in fact, had a fantastic mid year review just a few months ago. So how much money would YOU think I make?

The answer is $55,000.

And apparently my annual raise will likely be pegged around $1500. I don't want to seem like I'm whining - in fact, I'm grateful that I can pay my rent and my student loans and some of the credit card debt I accumulated in grad school. But that's kind of the problem, isn't it? That employers know they have us where they want us in a bad economy, and can pay us as much or as little as they want because we're so thankful to not go into more debt.

And that's bullshit.

My point of all of this I suppose, is to encourage you to talk salary with your friends and coworkers. Maybe it's too awkward, and maybe your company has actual policies against it. But I've found that it's enlightening and helpful to know. And I think that it serves us all better to know what the market rate for X job, with X degree, in X fiscal climate is.

And if that's not good enough, at least you'll find out who your rich friends are! Then you can make them take you out for dinner. Make sure to bring your teacher friends.

Underpacking underwear, overpacking books.

2011-06-02T21:05:00.002-04:00

It's a problem I have.

I ran out of undies about 2/3 of the way through my jaunt to Europe. I had to pay a ridiculous sum (seriously - guess) per panty to get some clean BVDs. And yet I have still not finished the books I brought with me.

Don't judge. I'm awesome.

Because honestly, I'd rather be dirty and enthralled than clean and bored. Boredom is the worst thing I can imagine. And I had plane, train and automobile trips out the wazoo - the chance for boredom was high.

So what if I overloaded on Rowling's secrets and left some of Victoria's at home?

In any case, I'm back now, and I still haven't done laundry. Of course, there's no one to pay guess how much euro, not dollar, so you know, the number times 1.5 to do my underlaundry for me. Yet I found the time to re-read the last book of the Hunger Games again. For the fourth time.

Since April.

I'm not sure what all of this says about me, but I am sure of this: you can always go to Target and buy a six pack of Hanes for not a lot of money. These days, a good book is hard to find.

I'm back friends. See you tomorrow, after I finish my morning reading.

Sono tornata!

2011-06-02T09:31:00.002-04:00

I'm BACK baby. In the country that is. On my mac that is. In my bed eating stale pretzels with a side of flat Diet Coke because that is all I had in my house, that is.

Not quite back faculties-wise, but that may not be as a result of my trip.

I'm posting later this afternoon, and I can't decide if Ima just gonna jump into it again or apologize first in that ridiculous way, or start a whole new idea (ok that's not happening). I guess you'll have to check in to find out! If there still are any of you out there... hello? Hello? Bueller?

Back soon. XOXOXOXOXO

S'ok to ask for the pword!

2011-05-23T14:02:00.002-04:00

Friends - still unavail. But a lot of people have been emailing "I know I don't know you but...". That's GREAT. In fact, the people I am trying to prevent from accessing this are people who DO know me.

Like, from my job.

But if you're a lurker or a one time reader or whatever, no need to apologize. Just email and ask! I'm only happy to oblige. And I'll be even happier when I get back to being able to post without having to go "incognito" delete the history and call in Seal Team 6 to watch my back to make sure there aren't people reading this over my shoulder.

XOXO

An interesting situation

2011-05-14T03:46:00.003-04:00

Don't get excited, it's not a fabulous story or anything, just some news about why I've been gone. Anyway, I know this isn't standard but just email me if you want to get the password to this post.

I know the password. LET ME IN!

On further reflection

2011-05-03T19:34:00.001-04:00

You know when you eat something delicious, with a terrible aftertaste? And you sit there tasting the bitter, sticky, sandpaper-tongue, dry mouthed awfulness and wonder why you thought it was a good idea. But then you remember the exquisite joy of that first bite and you're confused, unable to decide if it worth it or not.

Ok that was a bad metaphor.

I have gone a long way from my initial celebration yesterday. Not just physically, although I did go from New Orleans (where there was a "Proud to be an American" po' boy for sale) to my beloved New York (where I discussed contingency plans for companies who are facing a disaster, and recalled that at one's first day at Evil Corp they were given an emergency kit containing a gas mask, aluminum blanket, flashlight, and whistle - we worked across the street from The Hole), and now back to my current home, the capital of our nation (where fratastic kids from Gtown and Gdubs thought it was a good idea to sing "We are the Champions" because our country killed a man).

But you know. Much further than that.

At first, I was ecstatic. Mostly because Osama bin Laden was a truly evil man. Purely? Perhaps no. He was a father and I bet (some of) his kids loved him. He certainly gave hope - fucked up, twisted, terrible hope - to people who are oppressed and starved and poorer than any of us can imagine. But he embodied hate.

And that is hateful.

But then, a little later in the morning (and after having a stimulating though totally normal conversation with my lovely friend Dan) I was mortified. Don't get me wrong. I was still happy OBL was dead. He was inspiration to many, and his ability to elude the United States emboldened people who would (out of fear, hatred or terrible misunderstanding) aim to destroy my country, my friends, my family.

I just wish you know. Lightning had done it.

Because while he "resisted" and was killed doing so, and the mission was apparently one of retrieval that got ugly, the fact of the matter is that we killed an untried man yesterday. Was he guilty? I have no doubt. So does it matter? No, right? Well, no, wrong. It does. It is 100% one of the core tenets of American beliefs: innocent until proven guilty. This is how I felt when it was announced that POTUS had given the go-ahead to kill Anwar al-Awlaki, the American-born Yemeni cleric who is associated with pretty much every successful (or nearly successful) terrorist these days. No. WE DO NOT DO THIS. WE ARE AMERICANS. WE ARE BETTER THAN THAT.

Except he's an American too. And he's encouraging army doctors to go on a shooting rampage on a base, and young wealthy men to attempt to blow themselves up on planes on Christmas. He inspired an idiot to try to bomb Times Square, and he inspired many idiots to successfully fly planes into the World Trade Center. Isn't he a massive threat to national security? Didn't Osama "resist" being taken into custody? On Law and Order, imminent threats and people who resist are sometimes killed by police officers. Couldn't it be like that?

I don't know. I just don't freaking know.

All I know is that I keep coming back to one of my favorite scenes from the West Wing, when President Sheen (whatever) is having a hard time elucidating why he is anti-death penalty when they are talking about the hypothetical criminal who raped and killed his daughter, and Toby expostulates, "Yes, you'd want to see him put to death! You'd want it to be cruel and unusual, which is why it's probably a good idea that fathers of murder victims don't have legal rights in these situations."

We didn't have the legal right to do this. Not really the moral right either, because we killed an unarmed man. But then WHY does the thought still taste SO DELICIOUS.

YAY

2011-05-02T07:36:00.002-04:00

I know there will be lots of opportunities in the future to realize that the death of one man is just that - one man down. And I know that this might make this truly evil person a martyr for the most fucked up cause since... ugh. Nazism? The Klan? Any movement at any time that just hates, hates, hates. I know the world isn't safer, and that it might actually be a little more dangerous. I know there are still people dying at the hands of their oppressors in Libya, Syria, Bahrain, Iran, China, North Korea, and elsewhere much closer to home. I know that the storms that have wrought devastation in Alabama, and the waves that have decimated Japan, still happened. There are still hundreds of dead in the South, hundreds more threatened in the Midwest, and NOTHING can bring back the 3000 we lost on September 11, 2001, nor the thousands of military killed in the interim fighting for us in Afghanistan and Iraq.

But?

TODAY, ALL THAT DOESN'T MATTER. Today is a day of celebration! Not that yet another person is dead (one survivor poignantly said something like, I can't be happy when anyone else dies, even Osama bin Laden). Not that the war on terror is over. Not that the pain from that day is remotely lessened.

No. It is this.

AMERICA: 1
TERRORISTS: 0

Confession

2011-04-28T20:35:00.004-04:00

I don't care about the royal wedding. Not at all, really. I suppose I'm excited to see Kate Middleton's dress, but mostly so I can erase the image (omnipresent these days) of Princess Diana in her poofy awful frock. And, cause wedding dresses are pretty, Kate Middleton is pretty, and that's about it.

The rest - bah.

It's ironic, because I love weddings. LOOOOOVE them. And not just the open bars! I love dancing, I love the atmosphere of people in love and how it makes the guests feel. I love funny parents who get dooooown or cry as they give their daughter away or just look really, really, glad that it's all over.

The planning, that is. Now they can finally partEEEE!

But the thing is, I don't know William or Kate. Like, at all. I was never one of those girls who thought the prince was gorgeous (now Harry - he I could bite my teeth into). And while I absolutely ABSOLUTELY wanted to be Princess M, I always pictured it the way it is in Ever After or Ella Enchanted - being wooed with books, suitors with vaguely wrong accents, spunky runs away from home and then you know, loads of pretty dresses!

We come back to my one item of interest.

I'm sure that the king and queen to-be are lovely people. But like, so are the people in the New York Times Weddings and Celebrations section, and I only read their names to see if I know them (no worries: no one I hate has yet appeared. I know! Whew!). For me, tomorrow is just a Friday.

Actually, fuck that.

It's a day where above ALL ELSE I will be avoiding twitter, jezebel, or any of my usual time wasters because I am sick. To Death. Of hearing about goddamn Pippa and snooty looking ex-girlfriends (sorry ladies) who have so much money they could probably eliminate the homeless population of DC if they wanted to. I don't WANT to know what designer made what and who made the final cut and which hat is the most fucking ridiculous concoction of feathers and pretension. I'm OVER hearing about how "everyone loves a wedding" and how this will magically make people feel better about the Japanese tsunami and nuclear crisis, the Libyan rebels ongoing battle of futility, the people getting put to death in Bahrain, the 300+ dead in the deep south from fucking WEATHER, the fact that we as a country aren't able to own up to the fact that we are in one big hot mess budget wise, the birthers and the assholes and the Donald Trumps who for whatever reason (UH, RACE) think that SOMEHOW the entire fucking COUNTRY let President Obama magically sneak into the White House even though he is somehow "not" or "less of" an American.

GAH.

So forgive me. I know this is a blog originally started about weddings, and I do promise to return to the original programming very very soon. But Wills? Princess Catherine? I do not give a flying fuck about your nuptials. I hope you love each other (normally, with some breaks but not publicized ones or cheating) for the rest of your hopefully long lives. I hope you have cute kids that Americans can one day wish to marry because apparently that would make their lives So Much Better. I hope your lives are blissfully boring, at least as boring as they can be when you have titles and shit.

Now I'm gonna go read the news with a big glass of scotch, and try to figure out a way to make the world a little better tomorrow. If only one of your exes could spare some change?

A little known part of the Constitution

2011-04-27T13:21:00.002-04:00

Where you have to print the undisclosed (by law) version of your birth certificate, transcripts from pre-school through post-grad, your blood type, your passport number, your preference of cheese type, and how many pull-ups you can do in 1 minute.

Fail.

Momentous living

2011-04-18T13:14:00.003-04:00

Let's just put it out there.

I'm a big, fat, fucking, worrier. Ok. That is hard to interpret - I'm not a big fat person who worries. I'm a slightly larger than normal girl who worries more than the average person.

Way fucking more.

It's funny to not realize that most people don't anticipate dying every time they fly. Or go into the Lincoln Tunnel. Or cross the street. It's also amusing to find that most of your friends DON'T imagine that every sound in your doorman-protected apartment which is triple locked including with a chain and deadbolt is a rapist who has been stalking you for a week.

You knew that guy in Safeway looked scary.

The thing is - those are outliers. I read those statements and I laugh, even though they are things I deal with relatively often. It's slightly more disconcerting to realize that I treat almost everything - jobs, relationships, money, groceries, cleaning my apartment - as a potential for insidiousness.

It's a word, I swear.

In short, I have lived the nearly 28 years of my life freaking out about something. Big things, small things, in between things. Even as I write this, there's some stress going on. I can't pinpoint it, but I know it's happening because I'm rubbing my feet together in the way I do when I'm anxious.

Maybe it's about what I should have for lunch?

Anyway, relatively recently, as in since the time I was diagnosed with the Big D (sidenote: it is not lost upon me that my nickname for clinical depression is the same as Dudley Dursley's. In fact, I like it better because of that), it has occurred to me not only that I am about 1600X more stressed out than most people are about NOTHING (not in general. I'm sure people with real problems are more stressed out than me. Probably just not about whether or not wasting their morning reading was The Worst Decision of their Lives and they are now Never Going to Get a New Job Ever Because they do NOT Deserve One), but also, that given how much shit there IS to be worried about, a person could go around not living their life at ALL if they thought about it all the time.

That paragraph was just one sentence(ish). Je suis impressed.

And so I have been trying to live momentously. Not necessarily recklessly, although I'm sure that's a bit of a byproduct. But enjoying things that I enjoy without "checking the bruise". You know - push. Does it hurt? No? How about if I do it harder. Like that. And even harder! OUCH! Oh man, better not go outside today cause someone might hit my bruise and that would HURT.

I think when I read YA fiction I sound like a 14 year old for days.

Anyway, this includes things like, not beating myself up over the fact that I had McDonald's ice cream cone despite trying to lose weight because dude - it was hot, and I wanted ice cream. It also includes not thinking too too deeply about whether or not spending time with Grad School Ex is a waste. Even though in a year he will depart to his phD and I will definitely not be moving with him, isn't it nice to know that right now I'm having a great time just chilling out with someone who makes me laugh?

Yes. Yes it is.

And if my clothes don't get cleaned as often (I mean, my underwear does, no worries) and I spend a little more money than I should on the movies (cause hello! LOVE THEM) - yeah. Ok. I could be probably engaging in a little more forward-thinking. But in my experience, forward-thinking leads to anxiety, which leads to super anxiety, which leads to success sometimes but also to miserable failure.

And for now I'm happy being happy.

It's probably not a way to live life. Actually, it probably IS for some, but not for those of us who have to take 150mg of Zoloft daily just to be able to not look at neighbors as though they are spying on you for their thief friends. But it's definitely a nice way to spend 2011.

Now onto lunch - ice cream anyone?

The first time I cried at (fillintheblank)

2011-04-15T00:39:00.002-04:00

So.

I've long established that I am a Crier (so long, that I don't even feel the need to link to past entries. Plus it's late and I'm tired). In case anyone was wondering if that was no longer the case, this afternoon I was reading The Hunger Games (zomg. SO GOOD. Seriously. I haven't enjoyed a book this much on the first read since at least the Time Traveler's Wife and maybe - just maybe - Harry Potter) on the bus ride home from work, and suddenly I found my face streaming with tears about a character I barely knew, definitely hadn't yet connected with, and who probably was gonna die.

It was the third freaking chapter.

However, it got me thinking. The first time I can remember crying at a book was - judge if ye like - the Babysitter's Club. I don't know what it says about me that I remember it very distinctly. The book was number 83 (google tells me it's Stacey vs the BSC) and I was 11. I walked into my parents' room in our relatively new house sobbing about how Stacey quit the Babysitter's Club, and then starting hiccuping about how because I didn't really have any friends yet in the new town these had been my friends and then they let me down.

Sigh.

The first time I cried at a sporting event was when Italy lost to Brazil in the 1994 World Cup (right now, somewhere in Brazil my lovely friend Joey is smirking and thinking "fiiiive!"). I had been to one of the first matches of that Cup, Italy vs Norway, and had developed some inappropriately strong (though certainly not inappropriate in and of themselves) feelings for this team. They lost, I wept.

I mean. ROBERTO BAGGIO!!

The first time I cried at a wedding, I mean really cried, was at my friend Amaryllis'. I was a bridesmaid, and during the ceremony, the celebrant turned to me and introduced me as the friend who introduced the bride and groom. Even though I resented them for dating. Even though it nearly broke our friendship in half at some point. I... well. Let's just say that my bouquet did not look the same afterwards.

Can't wait for Anna and Daniel's nuptials!!!

I honestly cannot remember the first time I cried at a movie, although I can remember the last (as in "most recent") time because it's the last (as in "most recent") movie I saw - Win Win. I love the director, I love New Jersey, and that kid who isn't even a bloody actor pulled at my heartstrings.

It was FANTASTIC.

I realize that all of these things aren't things that "matter". Well that's wrong - weddings and friendships and art and even soccer definitely matter. But they aren't things that people cry about. To list the times I've cried for real - when Grad School Ex and I were breaking up, when my grandfather died, one month after 9/11/01 and every anniversary since then; even the time 60 days to the moment when we were GOING to move away from the town I lived in until I was 11 - those aren't happy memories. The fabric of our lives (ugh, apparently not having a TV doesn't make you immune to marketing campaigns) is soaked with tears, and all I can do is hope that the vast majority are because I love Katniss Everdeen, or because some wrestling kid from the Jerz made my chest swell.

So, um, this has gotten more serious than when I started.

In the end, I sometimes enjoy crying. Especially when it's because two people I love are joining their lives together, and especially not when it's on a Metrobus and the guy sitting next to me is blaring hard core rap. Because no matter if it's because Stacey might be leaving the BSC forEVER! or because I'm still slightly broken over a terrorist attack that was almost 10 years ago, it means I feel.

And that means more than all of Italy's World Cup victories combined.

(Maybe.)

Curvspiration

2011-04-12T15:07:00.002-04:00

So I know I said (in the most dramz way possible, natch) that I would stop talking about weight and fitness and whatever here. But you know, it's my blog and I'll change my mind at whim if I want to!

In other news, my bday is coming up. Get ready for some serious self-centeredness.

Anyway! I've been fitblur-ing for two weeks now and while my weight is a leeeeeettle stagnant because of, um, some indulgences in which I probably shouldn't have partaken, my legs are stronger and my abs are more defined and my arms don't wobble as much! Also, I definitely fit into all my clothes better, which is the goal anyway.

So screw you, actual numbers on the scale.

Anyway, my fitblur experience has been great. I feel accountable to something that isn't a nasty feeling, cause really, it's just me, but it's a scarier me than I am used to. Plus, I love following people and watching them achieve goals. Success in others DEFINITELY helps you want to achieve your own! But the one thing that has been deeply disturbing to me has been the trend of thinspiration.

Thinspo, for horrifying me in 7 letters or less.

I'm assuming most of you are at least familiar with the concept (cause if you read me you're probably remotely interested in websites like Jezebel or other blogspotters and wordpressers who are funnier and snarkier but talk about similar things), but for those of you who aren't, "thinspiration" is "images or video montages of slim women, often celebrities, who may be anything from naturally slim to emaciated with visibly-protruding bones".

Eep.

Tumblr is full of these thinspo girls (because none of them I've seen are boys, although I'm unfortunately sure they are out there too) posting about how they're so angry at themselves that they ate 500 calories and only burnt off 1000. It is full of pictures that make me weep, and pictures that repulse me. It is full of women who are under the age of 18 whose only goal in life is to achieve 90, 80, or 70.

Pounds that is. Not kilograms.

I honestly don't know what to do with this phenomenon, but I know I can't just ignore it (because when was I ever the type of girl to ignore an opportunity to form an opinion on the matter?). I'm not judging these ladies (and gents) for being "pro-ana" (ana as in anorexia), I'm doing something slightly more insidious - worrying about them all from on above.

And that doesn't help anyone.

So instead I've decided that rather than just posting my workouts or my weight or my struggle with NOT eating pizza (pizza: 3. MA: 0), I'm totally joining the curvspiration movement (no expla required). I'm adding in thighspiration, boobspiration, and being a bombshell.

Because bombshellspiration just doesn't work.

What will this include? Posting at least a daily picture of haaaaaawt ladies with curves. Perhaps posting pictures of myself! Because I'm not ashamed to be curvy. And focusing more on the being hot vs being thin end-goal.

Got it?

Rock out friends. Because thinspiration is scary and sad. And while obesity is scary and can be sad as well, very few people strive to be obese. Fucking with your body is never a good idea.

Also, curves rule.

People Who Rock. People Who Suck: Government Shutdown Edition

2011-04-08T14:15:00.002-04:00

Yeaaaaaah I should have posted this week to get that April Fool's post off the top but there's a LOT of things I should have done this week (applied for jobs, paid some bills, called my mom) that didn't happen.

Whoopsies!

But instead here we are with a Friday PWR/PWS post, which is always fun! if a leeeeettle delayed. This week's lists come from - you guessed it! - the fact that in just a few hours, if the little crybabies in Congress who want to regulate women's bodies but definitely not what they're breathing in god forBID get their act together.

Highly unlikely.

And so, in the grand tradition of Horace, Swift, Twain and Colbert, I will be expressing my discontent through (an attempt at) humorous means. Unlike the abovementioned gentlemen, I will not be doing it well, because I'm so livid, it's going to be curse-laden. Also, because I like curses. But it's ok, because I have a uterus and so I must be instructed by men at all times.

Ugh.

People Who Rock:

My friends, coworkers (kind of), and anyone who is going to be fucked on their bills until the babies throw their tantrum. Good luck guys;
Harry Reid (I know, right?!) for calling out this TOTAL CRAP LEGISLATION for what it is - a politically cynical move to keep women (and btw, DC residents) under the thumbs of men/Congressional Republicans for many more years to come. THIS IS A FUCKING BUDGET BILL YOU ASSHOLES;
President Obama for (FINALLY) taking a stand. Don't give up Mr. President;
My hostess at Open City last night - I hearted your I heart pro-choice women shirt. I respect Open City for not telling you to take it off, especially when some of your clientele must be tourists. Rock on gals (and guys);
The government workers who are going to show up to work without pay (ie, the TROOPS IN IRAQ and Congressional staffers who have to make this end). You are good citizens, full of integrity;
DC government figures trying to sever us from this crisis (even Mayor Gray, who in general does not rock at all); and
Planned Parenthood. You have stood through this with grace.

People Who Suck:

House Republicans. House Tea Partiers;
John Boehner. You're an incompetent jackass who can't get your fucking party in line and keep LYING to the American people about why! STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKER;
Senators Murkowski, Collins, Snowe, Ayotte and Hutchinson. WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR LEADERSHIP LADIES. For chrissake, you must know that PP is more about women's health than fucking abortion. And even if it weren't, the Hyde Amendment prevents federal dollars going towards whatever percentage of business PP conducts in abortion provision;
John Kyl - NUMBERS MEAN SOMETHING. Don't lie you fucking idiot. Especially on the Senate floor;
Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five. Just cause he isn't playing a role in the shutdown doesn't change this, at all;
My place of employ. They were almost on the people who rock list for their handling of this, and then they were assholes, so there ya go. I would have been happily shocked, but the world proved itself again; and
All of these people again, times 10. I'm utterly disgusted.

The Situation

2011-04-01T08:53:00.006-04:00

So.

A few months ago, when it was announced that MTV was sending the cast of the Jersey Shore to Italy for the next season, I wrote a (mostly) tongue-in-cheek post about how their show HURTs me (that part was true) and that they should send ME to Italy and the shore for a summer - I promised to live up to standards of absurdity.

That was the joke.

Except that about three weeks later I got contacted by a representative of Lifetime's storyboard group, who creates, produces and distributes Lifetime content, asking me to call him ASAP. This wasn't the first time I had been contacted about TV shows on the blog - when What Not to Wear came to DC, I got emailed by their casting team to see if I knew anyone to nominate (unfortunately, I didn't check my blog email for a few weeks and missed out on that opportunity), but still - it's pretty cool when you get an email about television, so I decided to call the dude.

Well.

He started talking about how much his team had LOOOOOOVED my blog post and how they were SOOOOOOO on board with "righting the wrongs" that had been done to the Italian-American community by shows like Jersey Shore (and the Sopranos, which he didn't say, but I did. Repeatedly). I later found out that Lifetime is facing some SERIOUS heat about their Brighton Beach reality series, and wanted to have something to counteract the negative publicity.

Enter: "Get your token in Hoboken."

Granted, the name blew, but I have to say I was intrigued. It's no secret that I hate my job, and while I love DC, the fact is, I've sort of outstayed my welcome. I've been thinking of moving back up north for a while, and while I certainly intended to move straight back to Manhattan, I loooooooved my months in Hobo; so I didn't say an immediate no.

Which may have been a mistake.

Because quickly (VERY quickly), lawyers got involved and wrote up a contract for the show - 5 months in a Hoboken 4 bedroom house with a backyard full of (no joke) "barbecuing and beer". The contract requires me to quit my job and not to seek employment during the months in Hobo without express permission from the producers. This is apparently to give us (there is one other girl and two guys) as much opportunity as needed to show how "real" Italian Americans live - they implied by going to pizzerias and delis. I sort of feel like, a "real" Italian American lives her life by going to work and loving bread too much? But the thing is, it gets me out of my not-favorite job, with free rent during the best five months in New Jersey, and an actual opportunity to spread some New Jersey love.

Well, I hope.

Because as of yesterday evening at 5:45pm, I am officially cast as roommate 2 in "Not Jokin' in Hoboken" (they promise me they're working on it). I move in 23 days, with just enough time to spend a week at my parents' house perfecting my accent and sleeping a ton to prepare for the experience of visiting ALL Hoboken's fine happy hour establishments.

Because that's what "real" (drunkish?) Italian-Americans do.

I know I sound cynical about this, but honestly, I do think it's a good opportunity for me, and if I do it right, for all Italian-Americans who feel they've been painted into a corner by the likes of MTV and HBO. Even if one person changes their mind about what it means to be Italian and from NJ, I'll be happy (esPEcially if that person is someone I know).

So get excited! The show premieres in June, and runs through the end of August. You'll finally get to meet the "real" me! And by "real", I mean deli-loving, pizza-eating, bagel-consuming, drunk-often, slight NJ accented, me. With big hair.

Actually - that sounds accurate. Whatever. Check it out! Lifetime, June date TBA! Italian Americans: the REAL New Jersey. I honestly cannot wait.

For this joke to be over because it's too hard to write about! April Fools! (Ok seriously... did I get anyone? At all?)

Let THEM eat wedding cake... I still have to fit into my dress

2011-03-30T08:40:00.007-04:00

So.

Last week I mentioned that I was starting to work out, and I did start. I'm taking swim classes, they were hard but I felt good, and I went to the gym with my friend Oscura (if you can't guess her real name, I judge you) to do some arm stuff and cardio. This came up for a total of 4 workouts in 7 days.

Is it 2004???

Because the last time I was SUPER excited about working out was just before George W. Bush was re-elected to the presidency. For over a year at that point I had been a certifiable gym rat. I went nearly everyday, just "for fun"! I did weights, I did cardio, I took classes, I swam. I felt great.

I looked great too.

And then President Bush got reelected and I'm not proud (but not ashamed) to say that I feel into a two week long Depression. Having now experienced a far longer bout with the big D, I can say I got off lucky - after two weeks I started eating normally again, stopped crying at random times, thought it was appropriate to get out of bed, and maybe even shower.

It helped that I was in NJ at the time, and my family doesn't like me smelly.

But the thing is, I never really got back on the (pommel) horse (see what I did there? Hilar!). I tried once my winter quarter started, but I was swamped with work and a vaguely illicit relationship and extracurriculars: I promptly developed a bad fever and a worse cough. The cough was exacerbated by my not-really-stopping (I couldn't!) the busy life, and you know.

The fact that it was winter in Chicago.

And then I fractured a rib. Apparently, this is quite a common injury, and the problem is, you are definitely not allowed to do abdominal stuff for a while afterwards, or you risk a re-break. Or so said my doctor. To the world I was pissed, but in actuality, I was thrilled - I could sleep until 9am ALL THE TIME NOW! Or on days I was cutting class (Wednesdays) UNTIL NOON! And working out was HARD. I never knew why I liked it in the first place. I got all smelly and my clothes had to be washed all the time and anyway, what was so special about exercise anyway?

That was 6 years ago. I've since gained 50lbs.

Wouldn't it have been cooler if it was 60??? Damnit. Anyway, off of that high water mark (sometime this fall), I'm now back at just under my "fat" weight in college - the weight that prodded me (with a lot of help from my sweet mum) to start gymming it. And that probably wouldn't have been any different that the other times I've found myself at that number - I promise to start exercising, usually I do it twice before giving it up as "too hard," "too time consuming," "too embarrassing".

But this time was different.

Because two weeks ago I was hanging out with DC Laura and she confided in me that she was very worried about fitting into the bridesmaid dress for a wedding we're both in in two months. And it occurred to me - I hadn't tried it on since I got it (during the high water mark) when it definitely DID not fit, but I sort of assumed that would change.

Well, it didn't.

Ok, I'm sure I fit inot it a LOT better than I did in October. But the fact remains - I do. Not. Fit into this dress. And in a few short months, I have to put it on, and stand/sit/stand/sit/stand/sit in front of 200 people in a Catholic church. It would probably be inappropriate if my ass was hanging out and the dress split up the seam because of all the sitting.

Don't get me started on the dancing.

So I sort of freaked. And for four days, I worked out and ate SUPER well. And then I went to my friends' wedding in Texas. And there were a LOT of margaritas there man!! And awesome food!! And I HAD TO DO IT IT WAS RUDE NOT TO. "It" being "eat 16 pieces of naan".

Mmmm. Naan.

But then yesterday, I re-tried on that dress. And it still does not fit. And it's two weeks closer to the wedding, and it sort of hit me - time for a change. And I wrote out a workout plan with the help of my best gym friend Becca. And I developed the best playlist EVER. And more importantly - I checked off my exercise boxes for Tuesday.

Yippee!!

There's nothing like some Catholic guilt to really get me moving. We'll see how this all goes, but I need all y'all to hope that it goes "well". If only cause then I might stop posting about it.

Well. It's possible?

#WeddingSeason2011

2011-03-28T10:17:00.006-04:00

So!

A week late and loads of dollars short, but here is the first wedding recap of 2011!

A refresher: my 2011 has a bunch of weddings in it. While I've bandied about the phrase "11 in '11" it actually looks more like 11 from late '10 to late '11. But you know, the first one has more ring to it. These weddings are all over the place, for all sorts of people I love (from college, high school, family, jobs and randos) and I couldn't be more thrilled.

No seriously!!

Since this blog was originally about going to weddings and getting drunk, I figure Wedding Season 2011 is sort of a watershed moment. I don't want to say that this may be my biggest wedding year yet - there are still loads of people out there who I love who are not yet married. But this is certainly the biggest wedding year thus FAR. And so I'm going to recap some (not all, to protect the innocent but also you know, you all, from a summer where this space turns into "and I'm SO cool cause now I went to DETROIT for my friend's wedding and I've never BEEN there before have YOU no you HAVEN'T I'm SO cool."

Etc.

So I'll save you from that. But some weddings (like the first and the last for example) will def be recapped in a way to protect (my?) anonymity and to sum up some fanfuckingtastic weddings!

11 in "11" - Wedding Recap 1

Who: a friend from grad school and her boyfriend of several years who lived in DC during the second year of our program
What: a traditional ceremony that was followed by a lovely reception. Both bride and groom hail from immigrant families so traditional did not just mean chapel ceremony (though it did include that) but also had themes from both cultural traditions.
Where: Houston, Texas
When: March 2011
Why: CAUSE I LOVE THEM
How: flew down on Thursday night with 5 friends to Atlanta, picked up a sixth friend during the layover. Arrived at Houston-Hobby around 11:30pm, got our luggage 20 minutes later and rented 2 cars from Hertz (almost painlessly. Almost). Stayed with the bride and groom the first two nights of the four day trip, and got a few hotel rooms at the Downtown Doubletree (the location of the after party) for the night of wedding - nice hotel, good value given that there was some huge rodeo (? maybe?) convention in town. First leg was super delayed on the way back but Delta was awesome and got us over to Houston-Intercontinental where we battled through long security to get a nonstop (!!!) flight to Dulles on United Airlines, arriving back on Sunday around 11pm. Got our luggage as soon as we deplaned and cabbed back to DC.
Drink(s) of choice: champagne (at the wedding) and margaritas (everywhere else). I don't expect an open bar to have champagne as an option, so it's always a lovely surprise when it does - I took advantage. Otherwise, Houston has some DAMN good margaritas and I took it as a personal challenge to sample as many as physically possible. Excellente!
Highlight: when the flower girl, who is just under 2, came out and stood sort of like a deer-in-headlights while everyone took pictures (she was adorable). Everyone smiled and said awww poor thing (not out loud, just in their heads, but I could tell) and then suddenly, her mother told her to look for her father (who was performing the ceremony) and her face lit up and she RAN down the aisle, dropped over her basket, and RAN back. There are no words for the level of cuteness this young lady demonstrated. Preciousadorbsweetness? Maybs?
Lowlight: drunkenly fighting with Grad School Ex in a hotel room about who was being a bigger dick to whom (I was apparently being too couply, which we are not and he hates PDA; he was countering with being a jackass in general). I didn't remember the subject of the fight the next day. Mostly, I remembered ripping my dress off indignantly only to remember that I had pinned it to my bra in several places, which was awkward, but sort of hilarious in a romcom way.
Music grade: DJ was solid, lots of 90s and dance music from today mixed in with some Bhangra and a slow dance or two. Played to the crowd, kept the dance floor full, and played songs in longer-than-30-second blips. Only flaw was fucking up Don't Stop Believing and Livin' on a Prayer (they don't need backbeats, son). A-
Lessons learned:

Switching outfits a lot is sort of cool, but really hard, and then you don't necessarily get to wear your white dress as much as you want.
I've often said that a wedding's success comes down to the music, the open bar, and the attendees, and if you have a crappy family or crappy friends, you're screwed. This proved me correct, but also showed me that family that might seem awkward can be AWESOME on the dance floor with some encouragement.
Kids at weddings are super cool. I'm sorry, but I WAS a kid at weddings when I was, well, a kid, and now that I'm an adult I love weddings where kids are mixing it up on the dance floor.
People in TX don't know the words to "take me home, country road" as well as I do. Interesting.
If you're that kind of person, incorporate family into your ceremony. The bride's brother was the celebrant, her niece was the flower girl, and there was some sort of tradition where you go great your parents after officially being pronounced man and wife. It was all incredibly moving.

Next wedding is coming up! Keep dancin', keep toastin', and don't stop believin'.

A few things

2011-03-21T00:16:00.005-04:00

The less fun:

By now you've probably heard (if you're ridiculously obsessive like I am about shit like this) that the murder and alleged sexual assault that occurred in Bethesda last week was (allegedly) a hoax concocted by the "surviving victim" who is now in custody as the murder suspect. That sucks. What an awful, terrible week the family of Ms. Murray must have gone through. And same is true for Ms. Norwood's. The difference is, at least the Murray family might now begin the process to heal, while I would imagine the worst is yet to come for the Norwoods. Innocent until proven guilty, but if convicted, Brittany is truly one terrible human being.
(Also. I stand by what I said. Be safe ladies (and gents!). The world is not as dangerous as some believe, but it's still not always and everywhere safe.)
On a lighter note, but still shitty - my boys at Gtown lost in the first round (again) in the NCAA tournament. I haven't been this disappointed and sort of disgusted with a sports team since Italy went out in the first round of the 2010 World Cup. I just can't wait for the Yankees to have a stellar season and then lose to the most random team in the AL in the first round.

The just news:

HEY LOOK!!! Up? At your address bar? You'll never have to remember the Italian for "always a bridesmaid" now! (Ohhhhh so THAT'S what sempre damigella means?) Just type it in, www.alwaysadrunkneverabride.com - I'm excited! You should be too. Ok, maybe just pleased that you'll remember the address. Maybe?

The AWESOME:

Wedding Season 2011 (#weddingseason2011 on twitter, clearly I am just that creative) has begun! Recap to follow. Prob will become running series until work takes a turn for the worse, and suddenly all I want to do is nap again.
I'm starting to work out. We shall see how it goes. But the goal is to maybe participate in the 2011 DC Tri. I am taking swim lessons and getting vaccinated against the Potomac as we speak. I'm counting on all y'all to guilt me into making this happen.
Just finished the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It was fantastic. Seriously, go read it. Don't be a Harry Potter hater and say if everyone likes it, it can't be good. Cause it is.
So is Harry Potter. Just putting that out there.

I'll be back tomorrow evening (ok, this evening, whatever) or Tuesday morning so au revoir, I hope you have lovely Mondays with more Stieg Larsson and less violence than in the news.

People Who Rock. People Who Suck.

2011-03-10T16:37:00.001-05:00

So I actually have like, a *legit* post y'all but I'm so filled with rage that I need to get it out now, before I go and do something drastic. And apparently blogging will do that? We shall see.

People Who Rock:

Eva! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!;
The boys at Casual Hoya for keeping me laughing through the tears;
Emilia for taking down one College Ex (and uber republican) on facebook. Now Em, just update your blog!!!;
City Girl for being done with her radiation!!;
Grad School Ex. Last night he told me to eat something in an earnest and non-condescending way. No one ever tells me that. I appreciated it;
Chris Mintz-Plasse and Dave Franco (seriously NSFW); and
Low fat Cheez-its. Because 21 are only 100 calories. Thank you, calorie gods. Also, whatever brand you are. Nabisco? No - apparently "Sunshine"? Now I like you even MORE!!!

People Who Suck:

Peter King. You hypocritical fuck. Forget that. You hypocritical, xenophobic, McCarthyistic fuck;
Wisconsin Republican lawmakers. Actually, I almost want to say you fucking rock because if you think this isn't going to rebound in your face you are wrong. And yet, you are still assholes;
Jim Burr, Tim Higgins and Earl Walton, aka the fucking idiotic refs who didn't DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS and call out of bounds on STUPID FUCKING ST. JOHNS thus giving the ball back to Rutgers and letting them have the chance they deserved to win the GODDAMN GAME. I'm pro Hoya in basketball, but I'm pro Knight in life and that was BULLSHIT. The fact that the team was essentially kicking ass and taking names for Coach Carr's 2 year old son who has been at death's door for months makes me even angrier. FUCK YOU BURR, HIGGINS AND WALTON;
Fucking Tucker Max. Dude. I really hate that you went to my college. Although it DOES help that when person X says "holy shit! That's where Tucker Max went to school" I can tell by their tone if we're going to be friends or not;
Chris Christie. Either until he fucking stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he FUCKING sucks, times five;
Stupid girls who have recently been dumped by boys in Becca's life, because they make me sad about our gender. Honey(ies), get some fucking self respect and stop texting/tweeting/emailing/calling/facebook commenting/blogging, and WHATEVER to your ex, his friends, siblings, and the world about how 1) you don't accept the break-up or 2) how clearly superior and all-knowing you are about the ex. Because 1) relationships are not a fucking democracy and 2) you just look STUPID; and
Charlie Sheen. Get some help already dude. If only so people stop talking about you Charlie Sheen's enablers - this goes 10X for you assholes.

Alright friends, that is all for now. Back tomorrow with less anger. I hope. Well maybe. Expletives make me happy though.