Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

Why I need to blog more often

2011-10-26T19:13:00.003-04:00

So I'm sitting in this coffee shop. There's a guy to my left: button-down shirt, slacks, bent over a calculator, scribbling numbers on a sheet of looseleaf paper. On my right, the poster girl for hipsters: big glasses, skinny braid-as-headband, hemp purse and, of course, the requisite coffee and iPhone. Based purely on appearance, the only thing these two people appear to have in common is the fact that they're currently sharing air at the same place.

BUT!

She cannot stop looking at him, and these are not just any looks. She's enamored. She's enraptured. She has never seen anything so cute in all her life as this boy and his calculator, and with every glance, she's practically pleading with him to look up and just NOTICE HER ALREADY.

He just dropped his calculator. He leans over to pick it up and for a second, for just a second, he looks like he finally might notice her looking at him ... and then he goes back to his calculator.

OH, MY GOSH. I CANNOT EVEN STAND THIS RIGHT NOW!

Is this thing on???

2011-09-18T18:24:00.002-04:00

I don't even know if anyone comes here anymore, but just in case: I suck. I mean, REALLY suck. I always swore I would never be one of those people who just disappeared and then I did. I didn't REALLY disappear, though, I swear. I just sort of went on ... hiatus.

(Lame. So lame. I know.)

SO. I'm coming back for real, I think, pretty soon. I'm not totally sure when, and I'm not totally sure what it will look like, but I'll be doing something.

(If anyone's around to read it anymore!)

P.S. Yes, I am totally watching the Emmy red carpet show right now. I AM the same girl, after all!!!

Back from the dead

2010-05-25T13:54:00.000-04:00

I am not really dead. If I ever DO die, my friend Allee has strict instructions to post the details of my demise. So ... see? I do care! Even though my poor little blog totally has grounds to file for divorce and take the kids away by reason of abandonment these days.

Which is basically my way of saying: Yes, I know I suck. I swear I don't know where the days go. It has been an extremely overwhelming month--not, like, BAD, but busy, so, so busy, compounded by the fact that I would rather sit on the bathroom floor filing my toenails and talking about how busy I am than, you know, actually UN-busy myself. The job has been very busy. Do you know I have a mininum of 42 meetings a month now? 42 meetings! In 20 workdays!

Blah blah blah. I know.

Everything is really good, though. I really can't complain about anything ever, because I have a good job and I know lots of good people AND I even got to go away last week and reclaim a few shreds of my sanity (a few shreds is all I really need anyway). So I'm great, and I hope you're great too. I WILL be better about posting, because I do miss it, but I'm also thinking about giving the whole Twitter thing a shot so that when I can't get a whole post together, I can still do something. I say "give it a shot" because you know I can't commit to anything, least of all a publishing device that limits me to only 140 characters a pop, but I'm here if you're interested and we'll see how it goes. And no, I haven't really posted anything or started following anyone yet, but I will!

In the meantime, a couple of little nuggets:

* I read two books on my little vacay. One was A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby, which I liked very much (f-bombs aplenty, but so funny). The other was a compilation of essays from the Modern Love column in the New York Times. I ADORE Modern Love--I read it every Sunday. If you've never read it, this excellent column from Mother's Day is a good place to start.

* Oh! I also read Emily Giffin's new book The Heart of the Matter before I left. She is on tour now and I was able to go to one of her signings. If you ever have the chance to go see her, I highly recommend doing so. She is wonderful--I just adore her--and the book is great (of course).

* Lost finale ... any opinions? I liked it on its own (I was VERY happy Sawyer and Juliet ended up together) and I like the messages about human connection and everything. At first I was a little bugged that they didn't answer ANYTHING, but the more I let it marinate a little I think I liked it.

* I'm going to a wedding on Saturday and I don't know what to wear.

* I don't even know what I'm wearing to work today, I'm supposed to know what I'm wearing five days from now?

* I hope you're all having a great week. I promise I won't be gone as long this time!

What I've been up to

2010-04-22T02:27:00.004-04:00

I cannot believe I've had a post about urinals at the top of my blog for so long. I mean ... URINALS. Things I've been doing lately that have nothing to do with urinals:

I got promoted. This is a good thing--I mean, I've only been here 18 months--but it's a stressful thing, too.

I've been hanging out with him. I've also been hanging out with the guy who introduced us and ... yeah. I don't know.

I met up with Miss Manic in the Big Apple, which was super duper totally awesome and fun (of course!). I hadn't seen her in forever, and she was just exactly the same in all of the very best ways.

I've completely neglected my DVR. I've kept up with Lost, Survivor and Modern Family, and that's about it.

I've been listening to this song like a crazy person (161 times since I downloaded it like a week ago ... holy crap, I really AM crazy). At first I thought the video was like what??? but now I kind of like it. I TOTALLY get the song.

I've also fallen madly in love with the last Phoenix album, especially the song Rome (and especially the 2:15-3:15 part of the song).

I've almost emotionally eaten my way through a box of Yodels. Why Yodels? Why indeed. Why not?

I've tried to figure out a vacation with my friend Allee. My only requirements: sand and water, not prohibitively expensive. Any suggestions?

I've tried to figure out a gift for a bridal shower I'm going to on Saturday. Do I get something from the registry? Do I get a gift card? (I know her, but not INCREDIBLY well--I'm friends with her fiance.) Any suggestions?

So ... yeah. That's me. What about you? What have you been up to lately?

The great urinal debate

2010-04-05T02:31:00.002-04:00

So you know that show The Marriage Ref? It's a very polarizing show among my friends--some people like it, some people hate it--but what we can all agree on is that it's much better to watch with a group of people. The other night, we flip it on during a couple of minutes of downtime at work and we're presented with the hot topic to end all hot topics: Should a man be allowed to put a urinal in the house?

Me: "I mean ... is this even a discussion? NO. They're GROSS. They look DISGUSTING."
Guy No. 1: "I don't really see a downside."
Me: "The downside is that they're DISGUSTING."
Guy No. 2: "But they save water. And they're easier to clean."
Me: "Really? How many urinals have you cleaned?"
Guy No. 2 (after a long pause): "OK, they LOOK easier to clean."
Me: "And what about the aesthetics? I don't want my makeup and my hair things and all the rest of my stuff right next to a urinal."
Guy No. 3: "Well, I don't want that stuff near my urinal, how's that?"

It's a simple question, a stupid question, really, because who in the world is actually going to put a urinal in their house, but it ignites a three-day (yes, that's right, THREE DAYS) discussion on the topic. Every time someone walks in the room, they're greeted with the question. No hello, no how are you. Just a: "So. Would you put a urinal in your house?"

We debate the "splatter" effect. We delve into urinal etiquette. We Google the cost of a urinal vs an ordinary toilet. We talk about urinals far more than any group of educated, professional adults in America should.

Me: "Who even WANTS to pee standing up? Sometimes it's RELAXING to sit down. You ever think of that?"
Guy No. 4: "Don't worry. You'll get so used to having a urinal in our bathroom, you won't even notice it after a while."

Ha freaking ha.

(P.S. I am so glad I'm a girl.)

Houston, we have a problem

2010-03-22T10:25:00.001-04:00

So. I'm at work, and as I often do at work, I get up to go to the bathroom. I walk out of the stall, look myself over in the mirror as I wash my hands and ... ohhhhhh, no. No, no, no, no, no, HELL TO THE NO.

I immediately walk back to my desk (this is my first mistake) and then (second mistake) ask the guy next to me if he notices anything different about my hair.

"What?" he says.

"Anything, you know ..." I start tugging on individual strands of hair to give him a clue, and then I just give up and half-blurt, half-scream: "DO YOU SEE A GRAY HAIR ON TOP OF MY HEAD? DO YOU? IS IT BLONDE OR IS IT GRAY? I CAN'T TELL BUT I THINK IT'S GRAY AND I KNOW I JUST HAD A BIRTHDAY BUT AHHHHHHH I CAN'T HANDLE THIS DAY OR THIS WEEK OR THIS WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. I CANNOT HANDLE MY LIFE RIGHT NOW."

By now I've attracted a bit of a crowd, all male, who start picking through the top of my head like a bunch of monkeys.

"It's a little lighter, but it might just be the lighting in here. The lighting blows in this place."
"Look, it's shorter, like it's broken off. I don't think it's gray, I think it's just broken."
"My wife's younger than you and she has some gray hair. She's, like, REALLY self-conscious about it, too. Like, REALLY. Which, I mean, I can totally understand--" He's interrupted by one of the other guys: "Dude, NOT HELPING."
"I can't tell. I'm color blind." (Pause.) "Is there a color blind test online? I want to take it."

I resist the urge to yank it out, start rocking myself in the fetal position and pretend the whole sordid thing never happened, because you know if you do that you're cursed forever and, like, 75 million of them appear in its place. Now, I can't find it. Which means it really is blonde and is blending in with the rest of the blonde hair. Which is the story we are sticking to for the next day, week, month, 50 years if we have to.

Let's talk about the Oscars

2010-03-07T21:16:00.004-05:00

OK. It's a little after 9 pm and we've made it through the red carpet, the opening monologue and the first half hour of awards. Let's pick it up from here, shall we?

* My friend Allee can back me up on this: I called the Neil Patrick Harris thing an hour before the show. I swear I did, Seacrest dropped a couple of hints and there you go. I'm so proud of myself, you'd think I just gave birth.

* Whose idea was it to have Kathy Ireland co-host the preshow? OH, MY SHRILL. Move over, nails on a chalkboard, there's a new most annoying sound in town.

* I am totally on Team Sandra Bullock. She looks nervous, and I think it's adorable, and I totally hope she wins and says something sweet to her husband.

* I sat up on the couch and clapped for Ryan Reynolds. Literally. Anyone who looks that good deserves applause when he enters a room, even if it IS through a 32-inch TV in my living room.

* This is the first awards show in a very, very long time in which Cameron Diaz doesn't look like a drunken ex-sorority girl turned cougar.

* I like the longer clips for supporting actor, and I like clips instead of performances for best original song (the performances always take FOREVER and they're never songs anyone knows anyway). Has anyone seen Crazy Heart? That song is pretty, I'm almost tempted to download it.

* "I love you more than rainbows." Wait. Wait a second. I don't mean to crap all over the sentiment here, but isn't that more the kind of thing a 4-year-old says to her stuffed animals than something a grown man says to his wife? Like ... what does that even MEAN? (That was the best original song winner, by the way.)

* Coke commercial: I love this song, Sweet Disposition. I listen to it all the freaking time.

* They said Chris Pine and I totally thought they said Chris Klein. I was like, wha-wha-whaaaat? Suri's real daddy? Wasn't he paid to disappear forever? Where did they find him? But it wasn't Chris Klein, it was Chris Pine. Total letdown.

* People I want to win, part II: Kathryn Bigelow for best director. GIRL POWER!

* Molly Ringwald has crazy eyes. I feel like she's going to pull a machine gun out of her dress any second and start going ballistic all over the Kodak Theater. (But that was a really sweet tribute to John Hughes.)

* * * * * *

OK, Monday morning update: I got a little derailed with the commentary last night by a pack of crazy boys (long story). But: so glad Sandra Bullock won. So glad Kathryn Bigelow won. So weird that they announced best picture so fast like that. And so sad that it's a whole SIX MONTHS until the next big awards show! Emmys, I love you, I'll be waiting!

On my day off

2010-02-28T09:38:00.001-05:00

I went ice skating.
With a boy.
I don't know how to ice skate.
He tried to teach me.
It was fun.
Maybe we'll go again sometime.

It's all relative

2010-02-18T03:41:00.002-05:00

So I've been working a lot lately. I actually had a Valentine's post half-written, but then ... yup, had to work, never finished it. Is there anything LESS interesting than someone telling you how much they've been working lately? Let me answer that for you: Hell freaking no, there is nothing in the world remotely less interesting. Put A plus B together ... what does that equal? Me, basically the most boring person you know right now.

In fact, here's a (partial) list of things more interesting than me right this second:

* Flossing. Especially when you get a little piece of something out of your back teeth ... it's like roaming the beach with a metal detector and finally finding something other than bottle caps. Score!

* Blowing spit bubbles. Try it. Seriously. Right now, just try it.

* A line at the post office. I mean ... at least at the post office there's people-watching!

* Curling (as in the sport, not the iron). Although, this apparently seems to be the new hipster Olympic sport du jour, so maybe this is SUPER more interesting instead of just a little, I don't know.

* Reading the owner's manual to your car. My friend's mom used to go through hers and circle all of the phallic-looking shapes. That is absolutely a true story.

* Talking about the weather. This is made all the more fascinating when the weather-people start doing a little "pin the freezing temperature on the precipitation pattern" game to come up with their forecasts.

I have a day off coming up. I'll see what I can do to up the interesting factor a little around here. In the meantime, please regale me with tales of how interesting your lives are. I like to live vicariously.

Engagement chicken

2010-02-07T23:52:00.003-05:00

So we're sitting around at work the other day in a little bit of unnatural silence. Everyone's kind of pissy, and it's awkward, and if there's anything I can't stand it's unnatural, awkward, pissy silence. So of course I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head: "I'm making engagement chicken tomorrow."

You can practically feel the whoosh of the ears perking up. "What's engagement chicken?" one person asks.

Engagement chicken, I explain, is a recipe Glamour magazine prints every so often, and they SWEAR that if you make it for a guy he'll propose within two months. And no, I am not looking to get engaged any time soon, but I was looking for another recipe and found this one instead, and it's like four ingredients, two of which are salt and pepper, with about five minutes prep time, so why NOT make it, right?

"I've heard about this chicken," one guy says ominously. "Howard Stern's girlfriend made it for him, and he proposed right after. He kept saying on the show, it was the chicken. It was the effin' chicken. The chicken made me do it."

It's true, I say. If you Google it, you'll see a million testimonials about how foolproof it is.

It's amazing what this revelation does to the mood of the office. "So who are you making it for?" they ask, all a-twitter at the thought of a magical little love chicken.

No one, I insist. In fact, I'm adamant on this point. There will be no leftovers brought into the office, no invitations to pop-in visitors to pull up a chair and have a bite to eat. I am NOT playing with the fire of engagement chicken.

For the rest of the night, the questions roll in:

Coworker 1: "So if someone comes to your house and says, oh, I'm starving, I'm weak with starvation, I'm going to die, you're still not going to offer them any chicken?"
Me: "No! I'll hide the chicken and give them a bag of chips."

Coworker 2: "Are you scared if you eat engagement chicken by yourself, you’ll end up alone?"
Me: "No! What is WRONG with you?"

Coworker 1: "So, what? You're practicing? You're practicing, aren't you. I bet you'll be engaged by the end of the year."
Me: "Noooooo." (Pause.) "Although, I wonder if I THINK of someone while I eat it, it works the same way."
Coworker 1: "What, is Brad Pitt gonna show up at your door?"

Coworker 2, looking at me very seriously: "I don't want to get engaged."
Me: "I’m not ASKING you to get engaged."

* * * * * * * * * *

So I go to make the chicken and ... can I just say, ramming a foreign object (in this case, a lemon) up a chicken's rear end? Never a pleasant thing.

Update No. 1: Your friend Swishy cooks the chicken upside down, which, since I am a little neurotic about such things, basically ruins the whole experience. Hello, breakup chicken ... and honey popcorn, which I am now eating for dinner instead because I can't deal with the psychological implications of the whole thing.

Update No. 2: I'm starving, so I go into the kitchen and start picking at my little chickie. I may have judged too harshly. I mean, I'm not going to jump back into anything, but ... it's not too bad.

(And if Brad Pitt shows up at my door, I'll let you know.)

I wish they had a Grammy for best car singing

2010-02-01T01:55:00.006-05:00

Oh, time, you have not been a friend of mine lately. In fact, you have been my vicious, bitter arch nemesis, and yes, I know I waste you a lot and don't appreciate you the way I should, but really? Is this any way to act? Let's make up. Please. I have like a zillion shows to watch on the DVR, I NEED YOU!

Yes, I have been a busy little bee lately. Work has been fairly non-stop and I've been working on a couple of little side things which make me happy, but my, oh my, have they made life a little insane. Not so insane, though, to keep me from a little Grammys chatter!

What I liked:

Lady Gaga and Elton John. I've decided I like pretty much every Lady Gaga performance. She is a lunatic, and I have a soft spot for lunatics. Also, if you can tear your eyes off all the over-the-top theatrics and insane outfits long enough to listen, she really does have a great voice.

Pink. I am not totally, 100 percent positive what that was, but HOLY CRAPOLA.

Beyonce. This one comes with an asterisk. Her performance was great, but I really, really, really wanted her to do Single Ladies instead, if for no other reason than it was in my head the entire rest of the night after it won the first award. (I did think it was cute--and a little surprising--that she thanked Jay-Z. Could have lived without the crotch grab, though.)

Sheryl Crow's dress. It was very simple, but I thought it was flowy and pretty.

What I was so-so on:

Taylor Swift. I think she's adorable and I think it's great that she won ... but am I crazy or was she a little off-key during her performance? Especially at the beginning? Maybe she was nervous, but I kept hearing Randy Jackson's voice ("It's a little pitchy, dawg, little pitchy") in my head as she sang.

The Michael Jackson tribute. THERE, I SAID IT. I know that's not really allowed, I know we're supposed to love every Michael Jackson tribute ever, and yes, I did have a little bit of love for Celine Dion and Usher performing on the same stage (not to mention not one but two American Idol alums) but they TOTALLY faked me out. I thought they were performing We are the World! I was all ready for it, singing it a little under my breath and ... nada. Thanks a lot, Lionel Richie. So disappointing.

What I definitely did not like:

Rihanna's dress. No woman alive should want to ADD to her hips, and the whole top of it was just a mess. But it wasn't as bad as ...

Katy Perry's HORRIFIC dress. Nude-colored anything is just a bad idea. I really, REALLY hated this dress.

Lil Wayne, Eminem and Drake. It is VERY annoying to have half the performance bleeped out because of language. I seriously kept thinking the sound on my TV was going out. Dude, you know you're on national TV, you know it's going to get bleeped. WHAT IS THE POINT.

My guilty pleasure of the night (no, Lady Gaga does not count):

Bon Jovi doing Living on a Prayer with the girl from Sugarland. What can I say ... once a Jersey girl, always a Jersey girl.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Leaving on a jet plane

2010-01-18T23:29:00.003-05:00

So I'm going out of town for a couple of days. I get on the plane and head for a window seat in an empty row on the right (as usual), and am immediately joined by a Louis Vuitton-toting mom and her highly energetic young son. This is sort of the reason I log on to Southwest.com the day before and refresh the page like a maniac to get an "A" pass, to avoid these types of situations, but you know, whatever, I like kids well enough, it could be someone whose underarms smell worse than a bucket full of catfish left to rot in the sun all day, this is definitely a workable situation.

And then the little kid, who's sitting next to me and has the swingiest arms ever (I mean, he's practically doing the butterfly stroke), gets a marker in his hot little hands. I'm wearing a light-colored sweater. What this equals: Definite potential for disaster. I start bobbing and weaving like Ali in his heyday. I wear him down, and he passes out five minutes into the flight. Crisis averted!

* * * * *

I am pretty sure one of the flight attendants is a little drunk. It starts off harmlessly enough: A woman comes on with a McDonald’s bag: "Oh, you brought me a cheeseburger!" she says. A guy throws away his Diet Dr Pepper bottle: "Oh, I can’t believe you didn’t save me any!" But then she goes up to the three debonair businessmen lined up in the row behind me and completely loses her shit. “You’re in exit seats,” she says, ready to give them the exit-row spiel, but that’s all she can get out. Instead, she starts giggling uncontrollably. And then she scootches into the row--ostensibly to let someone by, but she’s practically on the one guy’s lap. “So,” she giggles, “are you sitting on me or am I sitting on you?”

* * * * *

I am getting old. This means two things: In some ways, I am vastly more patient than I used to be ... and in others, I am so incredibly NOT. Like this baggage issue, for example. The whole fee situation when you check bags has resulted in a nation of people who carry ridiculously oversized bags onto the plane. Which, though I would never do myself (too many liquid products in my high-maintenance repertoire, thank you!), I sort of get. What I don’t get is doing it on Southwest, where there are no baggage fees. I also don’t get hauling a bag on the plane that is big enough to hold an average-sized dead body. Yet that is exactly what the woman next to me on the way home is trying to do. She’s trying to squish it under the chair in front of her IN THE MIDDLE SEAT. It’s literally like watching an army of Sumo wrestlers trying to cram into a clown car. I should be amused, I should maybe even offer to help, but instead I feel myself wanting to shake her shoulders and ask her if she is 10 shades of insane because she’s acting like a complete lunatic with this bag. She--I kid you not, are you ready for this--GETS ON TOP OF THE BAG AND STARTS JUMPING ON IT. IN THE MIDDLE SEAT NEXT TO ME. It lodges in there enough for her to prop her feet on top and I spend the next 45 minutes pissed at her based on the whole principle of the thing. Because, as we've established, I'm cranky and curmudgeonly and things like people lugging overstuffed bags onto planes is enough to make me rant about the state of our union for two hours (or 200 words).

* * * * *

I overhear the guy behind me talking about how he travels a lot. He travels so much, it turns out, he hit 2 million miles and is now a member of Southwest’s platinum club. He’s totally George Clooney! This is totally Up in the Air! I turn around, ready to assume my rightful role in the real-life Up in the Air sequel with our knockoff George Clooney. Turns out he’s really not that much like George Clooney. Like, at all. He DOES have a fancy platinum tag, though.

* * * * *

(I had a really great girls weekend and not one single actual travel issue, just ones I like to pretend are issues. Hope you all had a great weekend too!)

(P.S. Oh! Golden Globes! I almost forgot! Yes, we must discuss, and we will. Oh, WE WILL.)

And this is why we eavesdrop

2010-01-11T12:55:00.003-05:00

I'm sitting at the coffee shop. I just got here, and there are two guys sitting a few tables away. One is facing me. He’s in his early 20s. He’s wearing a black concert T-shirt (regrettably, I can’t tell which concert) and a necklace with a little white pointy thing hanging down that somewhat resembles a fang. His friend appears to be a nice person, but is clearly the “dork” in this friendship while the necklace-wearer is the “cool” one.

His plan in life, we quickly learn, is to teach a college course on human sexuality.

Those are my words. His words: “I’m TOTALLY gonna use this class to pick up girls. I’m gonna be, like, awesome. I’m gonna be the coolest teacher in the school. I’m gonna be fit, I’m gonna be trim, sleeves rolled up, looking good ... oh, yeah. It’s going to be awesome.”

At this point, I have pretty much dropped everything, including my jaw, as I listen to this guy. I’m not even PRETENDING not to be listening to him. I am full-on staring, full-on you've-to-be-kidding-me cracking up, and naturally, he is oblivious.

“I don’t think a lot of guys will take the class. I think it’ll mostly be targeted to girls. I mean, I’ll tell the guys—look, this class is going to be intense, so if you can’t handle it ...”

His friend nods.

“Or, you know, don’t tell your parents if they’re going to freak out, because, you know, I don’t need that shit in my life.”

He takes a sip of his drink.

“But I can’t call it, you know, SEX. I’d have to call it something else. Like Everything You Want to Know But are Afraid to Ask. “

(Creative.)

“Or like ... systematic excellent xylophone. Get it? S-E-X. Or ... wait! Systematic excellence! S, and EX!”

Sounds like a winner! And the subject matter?

“It’s not going to be overly vulgar, but I AM gonna be like, ‘You know, when you’re going down on a guy ...’ "

A meaningful pause follows (presumably, he’ll turn to Google or Wikipedia to research the end of that sentence by the time the first class rolls around). So, Mr. Sex-pert, what else can you tell us about yourself?

“I was in this class once where the teacher started talking about the objectification of women in the media. I was like, whatever, that’s BS. (Pause.) My sister often jokes that I come off as a misogynist."

(NO. WAY.)

And now he’s talking about shaving his chest. I am seriously not making any of this up.

It's the little things

2010-01-06T01:21:00.001-05:00

I came across the greatest article the other day (and not just because it's from a London paper and therefore uses the cutest British lingo ever). It's a list of the top 50 greatest little pleasures in life. In the top 10 are things like finding money in your pocket, getting into a bed with freshly washed sheets, laughing so hard you cry and catching up with an old friend. No. 1: Getting a good night's sleep (so boring but so true!).

So, in honor of the list, a few of my favorite little pleasures:

Getting the seat that I want at the coffee shop. I've found kind of a knockoff version of my old coffee shop, and after trying out lots of different seats, I've decided my favorite one is in the very back corner. It's not a table, it's an armchair with two mini-tables, and it has not one but two outlets within plugging distance. (Bonus: I get to spy on everyone else's screens but no one gets to spy on mine! Ha.) Every time I go there, I do my little "Please be open, please be open" chant ... and when it is, I always do a little happy clap.

The dollar spot at Target. As the enormous shopping bag full of cute dollar notecards in my closet will attest.

Eating in bed. This is a little rebellious thing I do when I'm having a bad week and want to feel nothing like an adult while simultaneously basking in the fact that the only reason I get to do this is BECAUSE I'm an adult. I prop a plate up on a pillow, get all snuggled under the blankets and put something on TV. (And usually fall asleep 20 minutes later, which sort of helps the cause, too.)

People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive, Most Beautiful People or Most Eligible Bachelors issue. Love, love, LOVE.

Getting a card in the mail for no reason at all.

Getting on a good laughing jag. One of my friends at work sometimes puts on old Beverly Hills, 90210 episodes on mute and makes up dialogue for me. It's usually only for a minute or two, but I nearly lose my mind every time, it's so funny.

Walking past a guy and then catching him turning around to get another look. (Who DOESN'T love that?)

Hearing a song I really like while I'm in the car. Bonus points if it's nice enough out to roll down the windows. Double bonus points if it's a totally embarrassing song I get caught singing along with at a stoplight, because then I'll spend the next five miles laughing, too.

Awards shows!

Starting a new book, especially a book I've been dying to read. I seriously turn it into an event.

A good, old-fashioned bubble bath.

Leaving work early. This basically never happens to me anymore, but oh, there is something just so delicious and scandalous about leaving early, even if it's totally allowed.

There are so many more I can think of! What are some of yours?

I like the look of you, 2010

2010-01-01T15:01:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year, everyone! I love New Year's Day. New Year's Eve, I could do without (that and Valentine's: so overhyped), but I love, love, love, with a great, big puffy heart, New Year's Day. I totally get into the resolutions and clean slates of it all. Plus, lots of great marathons on TV, no one expects a single thing out of you because half the world is hung over ... what a great holiday.

My favorite New Year's was a few years ago. A couple of days before New Year's, my friend Allee and I were going to a comedy show with some of her friends from work. It was actually a fairly miserable time in my life in a lot of ways, and long story short, I ended up getting into a huge fight over the phone with a guy while we were waiting in line at the comedy club. I spent the next chunk of forever standing outside in the freezing cold, fighting with this guy, bawling my eyes out, while poor Allee was stuck between her friends inside and coming outside to check on me ... just not a lot of fun for anyone.

At some point, a few minutes after the show had started inside, a random guy (cute, single, around my age) walked past me and then kind of backpedaled. "Hey," he said. "Are you OK?"

I looked at him, my face just a wreck, and said: "I could use a hug."

(I can't believe I said that to a stranger, by the way, even a cute one. You can see what kind of night it was.)

He was totally unfazed. "I can absolutely give you a hug," he replied. He did, then he stepped back, tipped his head to the side and looked at me. "I don't like to see girls cry," he said. "Any guy who makes you cry is an asshole. He doesn't deserve you."

That made me smile a little. "Thank you."

He didn't leave then, though. He took me and my friend inside, even though the show had already started and even though he'd gone to an earlier show. He bought both of our drinks and walked us out after the show. He got my number, and called a couple of times to check on me and ask if we could have coffee or something. I never did return his call. It was kind of a shitty time, and then I lost my phone and, with it, his number. I still feel bad about that.

A couple of days later, it was New Year's Day. "You have to see this movie," Allee said. "It's the perfect movie for you right now." It was The Holiday--she had seen it the week before. Allee picked me up and we went to see it (and then snuck into Dreamgirls for good measure. Ha.) She was right, it was the perfect movie for me that day, and I sat in the movie theater and cried because it made me feel so much better. And the fact that I had a friend who KNEW it would make me feel better made me feel about a thousand times better than the movie did.

So every year around New Year's, I think about that, about the humanity and goodness in those two things, and it just makes me so happy and hopeful--that in this crazy world with lots of crazy things happening, there are such good people who help make life a little less crazy for each other.

I was flipping through my blog archives looking for something the other day, and when I look at it all at once, I'm like, holy CRAP, you guys have been here for a lot of my life. You were there the day I found a nest in my car, the time I saw a naked streaker at McDonald's, when I stalkerazzi-ed the guy who carries around self-portraits at Target. You hung out at the coffee shop with me. You indulged me in my love of hot TV characters and my inexplicable affection for eHarmony commercials. You read all about my many, MANY run-ins with the popo as well as my ridiculous airport and other traveling exploits. (I have to say, CIA agent notwithstanding, those are my favorites.) And you were there a year and a half ago when I made one of the hardest decisions of my life.

I (naturally) had to look up my 2010 horoscope, just for fun, and it said that after a couple of bumpy years, this year is going to be full of happiness. It HAS been a couple of bumpy years, but in a lot of ways it wasn't really so bad because I had you guys. I've let things lapse a little around here over the last year since I moved, but in spite of that and Twitter and Facebook and everything else, I still love my little blog, and I love that you're still with me.

So thank you. You, too, have brought such grace and humor and kindness to my life, and I appreciate it so much. Happy New Year. Here's to 2010, the best year yet.

Happy merry holidays

2009-12-27T22:13:00.003-05:00

I hope you're all having a great week! I guest-blogged last-minute gift ideas the other day at the lovely Miss Karen's blog ... check it out, and I'll see you in a couple days!

Things I am loving right now

2009-12-21T13:39:00.001-05:00

* The new show Men of a Certain Age on TNT. I am especially loving Ray Romano, in a vaguely dirty way I can't quite put my finger on. I'm not alone in this--I went to the very awesome Television Without Pity the other day and there's all kinds of Ray love. "I am actually finding RR to be kinda attractive," said one person. "Does anyone else find that Ray Romano looks kind of sexy?" said another. This might be a good time to point out that his character is a total schlub whose wife left him because of his gambling addiction, which basically proves every social theory ever about how women generally think a man who can be saved/fixed/rescued is about the hottest thing since Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise.

* The latest Alicia Keys song Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart, more specifically the 1:45-1:55 mark. Nobody loves a good blend of pretty and angsty more than yours truly.

* Mindy Kaling, the girl who writes for The Office and plays Kelly Kapoor on the show. Her Twitter page is so funny/true, and she just wrote this great essay for the New York Times about her imaginary husband and kids. Which transitions nicely to ...

* The incredibly hot guy I saw at the gym. He was tall and cute and he actually brought a magazine to read while he worked out, like a real magazine (GQ). Guys never read when they work out! They watch, like, Cops or SportsCenter or The Simpsons, or themselves in the mirror. He must be smart, I thought to myself, and that was all the permission I needed to stand behind him a few more seconds than is socially appropriate to ogle his sweet little booty. (And then I might have possibly snapped out of my daze, walked into a wall and spilled half of my water bottle on the floor ... but let's talk more about that sweet tuchus!)

* My complete domination in the kitchen lately. (We're counting the holiday cookies and definitely NOT counting the way overcooked and completely inedible salmon from the other night. I am the only person on the planet who cannot make a grown-up dinner, I swear.)

* That blanket I made for my mom for Christmas. I hate it and love it at the same time. Here were the two problems at work here: I had no idea what the hell I was doing (thank you, Google, for holding my hand and whispering sweet words of encouragement) and I have this issue with details. As in, I obsess over them a little/a lot (and thank YOU, seam ripper!). But after one marathon eight-hour session to finish the thing, interrupted only by trips to the bathroom and copious chocolate-covered pretzels, we have a blanket.

Can I point out one more thing here? The fact that this is in one piece is all the more impressive considering it was done by a girl whose very worst grade of her academic career (a big fat D) came in eighth-grade Sewing class. (Although I somewhat beg to differ on the D. One of my projects was a telephone pillow, and while the numbers are long gone, I still own that telephone pillow and it's all still mostly in one piece. Take that, Mrs. Eighth-Grade Sewing Teacher!)

Photographic evidence:

* The little string of white lights over my living room window. I did make a holiday decorating concession or two, and that is one of them. They make everything look festive and pretty at night, and they go splendidly with the Christmas tree-scented candle.

* All of you. I hope you're having a great week. Have a wonderful holiday!

Evolution

2009-12-07T12:33:00.002-05:00

Signs I have evolved as a human being:

* I decided to dust off the sewing machine I got in the height of my Project Runway fixation and make a little throw quilt for my mom for Christmas. Despite the fact that I very nearly broke into hives in the fabric store at the stress and pressure of it all, I managed to pick out the material and the thread all by myself, and I felt like a little mini-Martha Stewart just holding the bag as I walked out of the store.

* I am starting to realize that life is not all about me, in one of the very best ways--as in, if someone (or a group of someones) does not want to be friends with me, it does not mean there's anything wrong with me. (As I like to tell my friend Allee, you have to get to KNOW me first to decide you don't like me ... ha, I'm hilarious.) But really, that is my favorite part about getting older, not caring about stupid things quite so much.

* I have let a smidge of my vanity go and occasionally wear glasses out in public on my days off.

* Part II: I actually bought a winter coat based solely on the criterion that it is warm as opposed to cute and semi/not really warm.

Signs I have definitely not evolved as a human being:

* In the process of starting the quilt (and by "start," I mean, cut out a few squares) I might have set a new world record for the number of times one person has managed to say "shit" in a very short period of time. I also have announced that I am a "renaissance woman" at least a dozen times to my largely indifferent coworkers, which I think somewhat nullifies the point. ("That's nice," said one. "Will you make one for my cat?")

* I fail to recognize the connection between working out (sort of) with no visible effect and the consumption of lots of yummy holiday chocolates, cheeses and caramel corn.

* I still think life should be like a Julia Roberts movie. Or The Holiday. Both of which were on TBS yesterday. (Great movie weekend, TBS. I wholeheartedly approve!)

* I am seriously wondering if lighting a Christmas tree-scented candle (Fresh Balsam from Bath and Body Works, sooo good) in one room and a cookie-scented candle in another room is a good enough substitute for holiday decorating and baking.

* I totally forgot to transfer money from one account to another. I'm at the coffee shop for a little bit, but then I have to run a million and one errands (that require money in the one account) and I don't want to go home first, otherwise I'll never leave because I have the attention span of a guinea pig. So I logged into my bank account a couple of minutes ago but, once I'd entered my pin and security question, I totally started to freak out about some hacker getting into my account, so I logged out and did the transfer over the phone. I am now completely obsessing about becoming Sandra Bullock in The Net, which all could have been avoided if I'd transferred it at home when I first thought about it. Please tell me I'm not going to get my identity stolen for being stupid and logging into my bank account in a public place. I logged RIGHT out, no one was looking over my shoulder and I promise I'll never do it again. I swear. Please, please, please???

(Clearly, I still have a little way to go.)

The answers to life's biggest questions

2009-11-30T00:11:00.004-05:00

So ... You’ve Got Mail is on. Definitely, Maybe was on earlier today, and Love Actually was on a couple of days ago. The only thing missing is a Julia Roberts movie, preferably My Best Friend’s Wedding or The Runaway Bride. All of this quality Thanksgiving week programming has me thinking about romantic movies, specifically the lessons they teach and the hard-hitting questions they raise. Such as ...

Is it possible to completely make yourself over into a different person by plucking your eyebrows and taking off your glasses? The eyebrows are a good start, but otherwise, no. No, it is not.

Do nice guys get the girls in the end? I think so. We sure do like to torture ourselves with the naughty boys first, though, don’t we?

Are any of the following effective ways to get the girl: singing to her, showing up at her house unannounced with a boom box/love poem/bouquet of flowers, outright stalking her? The only time a serenade is not an 11.5 on an awkwardness scale of 1 to 10 is if you’re Tom Cruise and you’re singing You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling with 15 of your closest friends. Stalking seems to work wonders in the movies, but as a general rule I’d stay away from it unless you want a date with a judge instead. (That said, I continue to be amazed by men’s ability to wear women down in real life. Like, FINE, I will go out with you, just stop making me mix CDs and writing cryptic messages on my Facebook wall.)

Do people really profess their love in crowded places, followed by applause? I mean ... do they?

Can you fall in love over email and/or snail mail? (Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail, I’m looking at you.) Possibly. As long as there’s some sort of vetting process to weed out the perverts and predators, possibly. Gentlemen reading this blog, my email address is on the righthand side of the page. Let’s see you charm the cynicism right out of me.

If a guy sees you in the produce aisle at the grocery store and thinks you’re cute, but you and your cart walk out of his life before he can say anything, will he go to incredible lengths to track you down and ask you out? No, Craigslist Missed Connections does not count!

Do opposites attract? We see this all the time in movies: the rich guy and the poor girl, the cool girl and the nerdy guy. I would say yes, of course they attract, the opposite-ness is in fact a huge turn-on, but do they last? Or did the girl in Can't Buy Me Love end up kicking Patrick Dempsey to the curb before he went to medical school and got a job at Seattle Grace?

Do the best kisses happen in the pouring rain? They can, as long as no one’s drowning.

Is it normal for people to attack one another, kissing frantically against a wall, after months of pent-up tension? Or is this more likely to result in a restraining order? Discuss.

Is unrequited love more interesting than love that’s reciprocated? I will say this, it definitely makes for a better soundtrack.

Can men and women be friends? This is possibly my favorite romantic movie question of all time. The answer is yes, but you always have to think about the what if factor, even if the “what if” is immediately followed by a “hell no.” It’s like an imaginary Choose Your Own Adventure book. Like, would he be a good kisser? If the timing had been just a teeny, tiny bit different, would we have hooked up and fallen madly in love instead of falling into the friend zone? Or, even if you KNOW it would be a total train wreck, just HOW BIG of a train wreck would it be? Would it at least be a fiery, smoking hot train wreck?

I guarantee each half of a male-female friendship knows the answer to the question "Could I?" Even if the answer is no, or maybe, or yes, but only in 10 years if he hasn’t found anyone and I haven’t found anyone and we both want a baby, you still know the answer.

That said ... I hear friends DO listen to Endless Love in the dark.

OK, we have a lot to talk about

2009-11-22T22:12:00.003-05:00

First order of business: Oprah.

I'm much more partial to 10-years-ago Oprah than I am to present-day Oprah, but I'm still a little bit sad that she's ending her show. I'm sure it won't be OVER-over, she'll probably do something at some point on her new cable network ... but the current version, at least, will be done. It might sound strange, but I always found something really comforting about the consistency of Oprah. For most of my life, no matter how many things changed or how crazy everything got, I could always turn on my TV at 4 o'clock and see Oprah.

And honest to goodness, at her best, she really did make me want to live a better life. I remember watching once and thinking, you know, it's not that hard to be a little bit better of a person. To be a little bit nicer, a little bit more thoughtful, to try a little more ... it's really not that hard, and I should do it more often.

(Even if she can be kind of a lunatic sometimes.)

Next on the agenda: People's Sexiest Man Alive.

Listen, I am just going to admit it: This whole thing actually drove me to write on Hoda and Kathie Lee's Facebook wall. I know. I KNOW. But I was outraged, and I needed an outlet, and they were talking about it on TV, and FINE, I DID IT. Here's the thing about Johnny Depp: Yes, he's great-looking, and when he combs his hair and shaves a little he is on-fire hot, but he is wayyyy too anti-social. He doesn't have that charm of a Clooney or a Pitt or even a Cruise. Do you know that he didn't even do an interview for the story? WHAT IS THAT? Everyone else plays along, makes jokes about Sexiest Man Alive crowns and sashes and whatever else. Not Johnny Depp. He's just so ABOVE it all.

I would have picked Ryan Reynolds. He had a big movie this year, he's got two huge movies coming up, he's fresh and young, and OH, YEAH, HE'S HOT.

The third thing is fast: I had on the American Music Awards, and they said Fall Out Boy has a greatest hits album coming out. What? Really? For real, that is like when they put some random movie from 2003 on AMC.

Oh, and I watched part of a Curb marathon today and Susie Essman is hilarious.

That is all. Happy Monday, everyone!

I love the way they say loo

2009-11-16T13:55:00.005-05:00

OK, this might not be a cool thing to admit, I don’t know, but I absolutely love the fourth hour of the Today show, the hour with Kathie Lee and Hoda. We have a bunch of TVs in my office, and one day someone had the Today show on for some completely legitimate reason (unlike the reasons it's on nowadays). We all sort of forgot it was on, but then 10 o'clock rolled around and those two came on with their ambush makeovers and their Man Panel and I was like, hello, Kathie Lee and Hoda, where have you been all my life? They are insane in the best possible way. Kathie Lee makes some ridiculous comment and Hoda just gives the camera this look that I love, a perfect blend between bemusement and complete and utter how did I get here? Last week, they talked about Carrie Prejean and her sex tape every single day and I seriously almost lost my mind at how funny it was.

Anyway, a week or so ago they were talking about a survey that had been done about which accent people found sexiest. You know, like British, Australian, Scottish, even a good old Matthew McConaughey-esque Southern drawl. None of those was the winner, though, the winner was an Irish accent. Irish! I told my co-worker I did not understand that at all, maybe because the only Irish accents I've heard have also been slightly slurred after a few too many pints of Guinness (being half-Irish himself, he conceded the point).

Personally, I am a flat-out sucker for a British accent. There are a whole bunch of British guys in another department at work whose cubicles are on my floor and I am constantly eavesdropping on them and trying to trick them into talking to me at the water cooler. ("Pardon me" "Oh, no, pardon me! And, oh, by the way, have you seen Victoria Beckham’s new hairstyle? I hear that's sort of a big deal across the pond." ACROSS THE POND! So authentic! And yet so ineffective!)

Invariably, after this happens, I try to speak with a British accent for the next 15 minutes (" 'ello, my name is 'arry potter") to absolutely, horrifically disastrous results. I am horrible at imitating accents--except one. For some bizarre reason, even though I grew up in New Jersey and haven't lived in the South a day in my life, I'm often accused of having a Southern lilt. I blame Friday Night Lights.

All of which leads me to this: Which accent do you find most irresistible?

(P.S. I totally became a fan of Kathie Lee and Hoda on Facebook the other day. Hahaha.)

It's a party in the USA

2009-11-09T14:32:00.002-05:00

I had a dance party in my apartment today. I was the only one dancing, but oh, you'd better believe it was a party. I was supposed to be cleaning, but this song came on--Starry Eyed Surprise (you know it, it was in a Diet Coke commercial)--and it is a biological impossibility to hear this song and not go instantly, completely spastic shaking your groove thang.

I'm seeing stars, I'm seeing stars ... awwww, yeah!

I've been on a big music kick lately. I know, what else is new, but every few months I get on this thing where I am just dying to listen to music, to find new music, and I spend inordinate amounts of time skipping from song to song on iTunes and YouTube and listening to my favorites until they literally burn old-school record tracks into my brain.

Some of the songs I've been loving lately (links are YouTube videos):

Lovers in Japan, Coldplay. I was at lunch last week with a couple of my friends, and this song came on in the restaurant. I got home later that night and downloaded it, and I've been listening to it all week. I'm not sure why I like it so much, I think there's something about it that just feels like possibility.

All the Right Moves, OneRepublic. OK, seriously. This song comes on ALL the TIME when I'm in the car, and you would think I'd be sick of it by now, but I'm totally not. I know it's about rich people or whatever, but I love the part where he's like, "Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?" (1:40 mark) because I think that's a great way to describe what it's like when you have a crush on someone new.

Crack the Shutters, Snow Patrol. It's just an unabashedly romantic little song. My favorite part is the chorus: "Crack the shutters open wide, I want to bathe you in the light of day. And just watch you as the rays tangle up around your face and body." (Administrative note: I think the video for this song is stupid, so I'm linking to some Twilight fan video instead. Don't hate me.)

That's What You Get, Paramore. I still like this song better than any song I've heard from their new album. I blast, blast, BLAST the part in the middle--"Pain, make your way to me"--I just love it. I'm sure the neighbors do, too.

But I need more new songs to listen to! I always seem to do a CD giveaway around this time of year, so we'll do another. Post a song you've been likely lately in the comments--I'll pick one and send the winner a CD of some of your favorites and some of mine.

And yes, you are totally invited to my next dance party.

Love at first sight

2009-11-04T23:53:00.004-05:00

So I was listening to the radio the other day, and they were talking about whether it was possible to fall in love at first sight. No, no, no, I thought. Anyone who's been hopelessly, brutally, blissfully, gut-wrenchingly in love knows that doesn't happen in a split second.

And then a lady called in and said she walked into a bar one night, laid eyes on a tall guy with brown hair and just knew he would be her husband. More than 20 years later, he still is. So there you go.

I guess maybe I believe in both a little bit. Love at first sight? No, not really. But I do think sometimes you can meet someone and just know that person is going to mean something in your life. It's like you recognize something in them, an unexpected little piece of magic. And maybe you don't know why, but you know there's a chance you COULD love them, and that's just as good.

Coincidentally, I got this link in my email today, an article about whether falling in love at first sight is possible. The answer? Sort of--they say we know in a second whether we're attracted to someone, and we know in three minutes whether we'd be in a relationship with someone. First, we look at general appearance, then their voice (for men, the deeper the better), then their words.

The story made me laugh a little bit when I read it, because I like to joke that I can spot a man, have an entire relationship with him in my head and then break up with him within five minutes. I look at the face first, then I look at the hands (I'm a sucker for good hands). And then, yes, the voice, along with, oh, does he seem like he would be a good father, a good kisser, would he bring me breakfast in bed, sing stupid songs with me in the car, play with my hair while we watch all my favorite shows, and ... wait a second, is that a third nipple poking through his shirt? ANNULMENT, PLEASE!

I don't really believe in love at first sight. But it sure is fun to think about.

The extent of my exciting life

2009-10-26T23:53:00.001-04:00

So last week my lower back starts getting really tight, which I attribute (as usual) to not really getting into a consistent workout routine again since I've moved. I'm complaining (of course) at work, and say I'm going to the gym later, where hopefully working out will loosen up my back a little. My friend shakes his head. "Nooo," he says, "I don't think that sounds like a very good idea."

Trust me, I say. I know what I'm doing. No way, he says. Don't do it.

Well. Fast forward to an hour later. I'm bending over to tie my shoes, when OW OW OW OWWWWWWWW, SOMEONE JUST PLUNGED 37 KNIVES INTO MY BACK, NOW I KNOW WHAT DYING FEELS LIKE. It takes 20 minutes to get off the floor. Later that night, it takes me 15 minutes just to pee. This lasts for like three days. I have never experienced anything like it, and my back is STILL sore.

So, my October: death flu and back spasms. Translation: more excitement than a bucket full of firecrackers.

This IS exciting, though: My friend Allee is coming to visit this weekend. This is very, very, very, VERY SUPER EXCITING news, actually, and leads me into the real point of this post. A couple of months ago, Allee sent me an email with this link, which is basically a challenge to do something out of the ordinary every month. Allee said we should do that too, take some kind of risk each month. And I was like, TOTALLY! We totally should! It'll be so great! So empowering! So we agreed we'd do it.

Two months later ... um, did I mention the back spasms and the death flu?

But! With Allee coming, this is the perfect time to renew our commitment to new, exciting, risk-taking lives. Since my idea of exciting these days is plopping onto the opposite end of the couch (everything looks totally different from there!), I need your help. What should I do? Finally run a 5K? Drag myself to the lady-parts doctor? Track down the CIA guy? WHAT? If either of us does one of your suggestions, you're totally getting a prize. And, of course, there's safety in numbers, if you want to pick something to do, too :)

(P.S. I just tried another--yes, another--hairdresser and it was both risky AND thrilling. We have a winner! So that one is covered.)

Overheard in the office

2009-10-16T21:45:00.005-04:00

Coworker A to Coworker B, about me: "I can’t tell if it’s her silly laugh or her real laugh."
Coworker B: "It’s her silly laugh. Her tired laugh. Which means we’re about 8 minutes from cranky."
(Eight minutes and 3 seconds later.)
Coworker B: "See? What did I tell you?"

**********

Coworker B, on comments that he's been complaining a lot lately: "I don’t complain. I point out situations."

**********

I get a little annoyed about something.
Coworker 1, to the person sitting next to him: "Swishy has a very large doghouse that she puts people in. And it's not decorated as well as you'd think."

**********

Coworker B to no one in particular, prompted by nothing in particular: "What has Canada given us except circular bacon?"

**********

Me, complaining about writing a self-evaluation for work: "I hate writing these. I hate being like, I did this, I did that. It just makes me uncomfortable."
Coworker A (in a high-pitched voice): "Slash YOU LOVE IT!"

**********

Coworker 1 starts playing this song ("Take Me Home Tonight" by the great Eddie Money).
Coworker 2: "Really? THIS song? REALLY?"
Coworker 1: "Hold on. It’s been on for a minute and 14 seconds and you’re just now saying that?"
Coworker 2: "You suck all of the fun out of my day. (Pause.) I hate everybody. I hate the world."

A mess of random

2009-10-08T13:07:00.003-04:00

* Death flu update: On DAY EIGHT, I finally have my voice back, no more squeaky laughing or hacking in the middle of a sentence. And I re-weighed myself and was down five pounds instead of up four, which is great news and naturally means I just spent the last five minutes eating mini Chips Ahoy cookies.

* OK, so the answer to the multiple-choice question was a very lame none of the above. I did, however, read all about the Khloe Kardashian wedding, get stuck behind a very angry little man who drove 15 mph and very nearly caused me to lose my mind and sort of START catching up on the DVR (I mostly caught up while I was sick, and of course I'm already falling behind again). I am LOVING Modern Family, you have to watch it. And I do like FlashForward--some of the dialogue is a little corny, but I like it.

* I got a really good review at work. I forgot to tell my mom so I am telling you.

* I have had this totally insatiable appetite for ridiculous music the last couple of days, which I blame on Miley Cyrus and that ubiquitious, completely catchy song of hers that comes on every single time I get in the car. So what am I doing right now? I'll tell you what I'm doing, and then we'll never talk about it again. I am actually sitting here listening to a Hannah Montana song on YouTube. HANNAH MONTANA. Let me reiterate that I am not the mother of an 8-year-old girl, nor am I the aunt, older sister, guardian or next-door neighbor of one. And yet here I am, belting this thing out like I'm auditioning for American Idol. My friend's daughters used to sing this song all the time, and it would totally get stuck in my head and then I'd botch the lyrics and they'd get totally exasperated with me, because I am clearly not as cool (see every sentence of this paragraph) as I pretend to be. (By the way, between that and stuff like this, I am experiencing severe sixth-grade nostalgia. It is just way too fun and angsty to be a girl sometimes.)

* Anyway, so that song? It's called "If We Were a Movie," which reminds me of a story I was going to tell. So I stumbled across this guy's blog a few weeks ago, super randomly, and he was all, Friday Night Lights is so great, (500) Days of Summer is so great and I was like, hello! Been there, done that, let's see what else he loves that I love. So I scroll down, and there are pictures of him and I'm like, hold on one hot little second, I KNOW THIS GUY. And sure enough, I scroll down a little more, and it turns out we went to the same college.

So THEN I jump on Facebook and put in his name (since it's all over his blog) and would you look at that, four common friends. OBVIOUSLY we took a class together or lived in the same dorm or majored in the same thing or something, but I cannot figure it out and it's driving me nuts, so instead of obsessing about it or being all stalky about it on his blog, I decide to send him a note.

Me: So. Hi. I stumbled across your blog a little while ago, I don't remember how (maybe because we share an appreciation for the greatest TV show ever created), and then I was like, wait, do I know this person? I think I vaguely know this person. And it is sort of driving me a little bit nuts trying to figure it out.

(And then I ask him if he lived in the same dorm that I did.)

He replies that he didn't live there, but he did live on the same floor freshman year as a guy we're both friends with. I say, oh, I knew him at the end of college and then we took jobs in the same city, so that can't be it, and then I ask him if he majored in communications. He says no, he majored in English. I say, well, I would be a horrible Law and Order detective, wouldn't I?

This is the part of the story where he makes some joke back and then we're like, OK, well, let's be friends anyway even if we can't figure it out because we both live fairly near each other in cities TWO THOUSAND MILES from where we both went to college, we know some of the same people, why not be friends? And then maybe we decide to meet for lunch at some cute cafe one crisp fall afternoon, and he decides to bring his newly single, ready to mingle roommate with him (because falling in love with the first guy would be a little too tidy of an ending, and we're trying to avoid cliche storylines here) and Other Guy has never met a girl like me in his entire life. And who knows, maybe I turn into Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan and he turns into Richard Gere or Tom Hanks and we go on to earn $100 million at the box office thanks to legions of girls like me.

But NO. No, that did not happen, because MY LIFE IS NOT A MOVIE, unless you count one in which there are plenty of spiders and possibly a strain of a rare, life-threatening disease. That was where it ended, with me making a Law and Order joke. IS THAT NOT THE LAMEST THING EVER? I didn't even find out how I KNOW the guy!

I totally wish I could script life. It would be SO AWESOME. Even if the soundtrack WAS sort of cheesy.

If I ever give birth, we're all in trouble

2009-10-03T23:52:00.000-04:00

If I had written my last post today, there would be another option: G) Spent the last several days staring into the jaws of death/suffered through my first bad cold in a very, very long time. I rarely get sick, which means I am a horrible sick person. A pathetic one. A whiny, achy, mopey, "I can't breathe" one, as evidenced in my "diary" of the last week.

Monday afternoon

Me, to my coworker: "I feel weird. I feel like I have something in my lungs."
He glances up. "Um ... air?"

Monday night

I get home late from work, decide I'm going to sit on the couch juuuuust for a second before I go to the gym, and pass out. For, like, three hours.

Tuesday night

It's master-of-the-obvious coworker's birthday, and his girlfriend has planned dinner at this restaurant at a casino. It's a good dinner full of lovely revelations, such as the fact that my friend was circumcised as a baby by Jackie Mason's cousin.

But in the car on the way home, I start whining that my throat itches. It's the cigarette smoke in the casino, they said, you're just not used to being around it. I agree, that makes perfect sense. So I drink some extra water when I get home, go to bed and dream of slot machines and Brad Pitt, just because.

Wednesday morning

I wake up before my alarm, which is never, ever a good sign, and my throat is on FIRE. I can't call in sick because ... actually, I can't remember now, that was three whole days ago and my brain has been drowning in mucus and phlegm since then, but there was some good reason why I had to go. So I do.

Me, to my coworker, about 2.1 seconds after I walk in the door: "So. I'm sick. Like, legitimately. My throat is killing me."
He glances up. "Maybe you have swine flu."
Me: "Maybe I ... OH, MY GOSH, WHAT IF I HAVE SWINE FLU?"

I Google swine flu symptoms. The checklist is very lame, it's like, you can't tell the difference between swine flu and regular flu, neither can the doctor without a lab test, blah blah blah. I skip down to the symptoms that require urgent medical attention.

Me: "Holy crap. Listen to this." (Pause.) "Are you listening?"
Him: "Yes, I'm listening."
Me: "What did I just say?"
Him: "You said are you listening."
Me: "OK, good. Thank you. So listen to this. It says confusion. It LITERALLY says confusion. CONFUSION! LISTEN TO ME. If I show ANY signs of confusion, you need to call the doctor, like, immediately."
He looks at me.
I wait.
He looks at me some more.
I wait.
Him: "Soooo ... I'm supposed to tell the difference between your normal confusion and your swine flu confusion how?"
Me: "I cannot believe I'm entrusting my life to you."

A few hours later.
Me: "Maybe I have strep instead."

A little while after that.
Me: "What about mono? I totally fell asleep the other night! Fatigue!"

This is all met by a lot of head-shaking.

Thursday morning, 3:30 a.m.

I wake up after an hour and a half and it feels like someone is stabbing me in the right side of my neck with one of those Ginsu knives. I cannot swallow at ALL, so I stand there in the dark and periodically spit into the bathroom sink. It's not melodramatic at all.

Thursday/Friday.

I happen to already be off these days, so ... lucky me! I get to die a thousand deaths on my couch without even taking time off work to do it!

Thursday afternoon.

My friend visits me on my deathbed to bring me some sustenance and some medicine. Also a National Enquirer.

Thursday night.

I summon all of the strength I can muster to witness a pop culture perfect storm: Jon Gosselin on one channel and David Letterman's affair admission on the other, with my laptop on my stomach set to people.com. All of the excitement wipes me out, though, and I spend the next 10 hours asleep on the couch.

Friday night.

I've officially knocked off 11 percent of the DVR. I'm now caught up on The Biggest Loser, Project Runway, Modern Family and The Amazing Race. Left to go: Glee, the first two episodes of FlashForward, and the entire last season of 24.

Saturday morning.

I weigh myself and am highly annoyed to find the scale up 4 pounds since Tuesday. I thought you were supposed to LOSE weight when you were sick! I chalk it up to water retention from the sodium in all of the soup I've been eating, and conveniently disregard the pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream I've eaten in the last two days.

I do, however, wash my hair for the first time since Tuesday night. I consider this major progress.

Saturday afternoon.

Apparently not enough progress. Snot is pouring out of my body, and I'm almost done coughing up my left lung. I disgust nearly everyone who crosses my path, and I get kicked out of work an hour early.

Saturday night.

I fall asleep for a couple of hours and wake up feeling like I've been hit between the eyes by the 7:27 p.m. Amtrak express. I turn to my last resort: Vick's Vapo Rub. I'm currently sitting on my couch, surrounded by a High School Musical tissue box, cherry cough drops and a very tall bottle of water, smelling like menthol, watching 27 Dresses. If anyone else is having a more glamorous Saturday night right now, I'd love to hear it.

Multiple-choice test

2009-09-27T23:58:00.005-04:00

I haven't written a good and proper blog post the past few days because I've been too busy:

a) attending the wedding of Khloe Kardashian (yes, I caught the bouquet, and OH, YES were Kim and Kourtney pissed about it).

b) being booked at the police station for reckless something or other after flipping out on the passive-aggressive man driving 15 mph in front of me on a 35 mph road. For, like, TEN MINUTES.

c) cashing my lottery check and heading off to Bora Bora.

d) watching the copious amounts of television I managed to accumulate on my DVR after just one week of the new season. (OK, spoiler alert: I WISH THIS WERE TRUE. But so far Modern Family gets a thumbs up, and so does this season of The Biggest Loser even though it makes me cry and makes me feel guilty for eating my turtle Chex Mix. Grey's Anatomy, on the other hand, gets a "I really, really think I'm done this time ... for real." I had to see poor George's funeral, though!)

e) luxuriating at the spa and swimming in a tub of chocolate BECAUSE I'M WORTH IT.

f) I can't remember. Not so much in the "waking up on the couch of a dashing stranger" way but more of a "Where did Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday GO?!?" kind of way.

Correct answer gets a prize. :) Happy Monday, everyone!

Happy, happy Emmy day!

2009-09-20T17:13:00.035-04:00

You know Emmy day is a big day around here (see exhibits A, B and C) but this Emmy day might be the biggest of them all. Not because of who's nominated (where is Friday Night Lights?!?) or because of who's wearing what (the red carpet hasn't even started yet), but because this year, I have a very special Emmy guest. An Emmy guest named ... Emmy. Yes, THAT Emmy. I have a friend who has won a couple (JEALOUS MUCH? NO, NOT ME!) and he very kindly offered to let Emmy come over for the Emmys.

Emmy and I have had a very action-packed 24 hours together. First, we had to rest up for the big show.

And then make the Emmy party food:

Of COURSE, we had to primp:

Best dressed or worst dressed?

Ready to watch the red carpet!

(Back with the live blog in a bit!)

**********

6:07: Ryan's hair is a bit tall. Still not tall enough to make HIM look tall, though (Heidi Klum is totally towering over him!).

6:13: Oooh, Giuliana's wearing her ring again! I guess I'll have to take back my Giuliana and Bill divorce rumors.

6:21: Christina Hendricks has a smoking body (apparently, I'm a 12-year-old boy). But seriously! She's like a human hourglass!

6:32: I say this every year, but I LOVE MARISKA HARGITAY!

6:47: Did you know it was hot in L.A. today? It's hot in L.A. today. Everyone is sweating. Ryan's sweating, that girl Kaley Cuoco is sweating ... CAN WE PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT ALL THE SWEATING???

7:08: What is with E!'s vampire obsession? Twilight and True Blood, I get it, I get it. Can we go back to the sweating?

7:27: Oh, Kristen Wiig. Such an unfortunate dress.

8:01: What a weird introduction. But here's Neil Patrick Harris singing!

8:03: "She could turn a gay guy straight ... oh, wait, there's Jon Hamm!"

8:12: I TOTALLY DO NOT GET THE GLASSES THING. Like, at all. What am I missing?

8:13: Aww, Kristin Chenoweth. She's cute.

8:27: Nice sweater vest, Jon Cryer. Funny first line, though!

8:35: Justin Timberlake wears glasses when he is SERIOUS Justin. (Not surprised about Toni Collette. OK, a little surprised.) (Second sad face in a row! First Rainn Wilson, now Mary Louise Parker! Usually they cover it up better.)

8:52: It is hard to type with Turtle Chex Mix on your fingers.

8:57: I am a sucker for a good little dance routine. I think Karina and Maks should go make out in a corner now and rekindle their romance.

9:00: Awww, Probst. I was going to rip on him for not wearing a tie, but it actually looked kind of disheveled/hot. And he gave a good speech. And he has really, REALLY great dimples. In fact, I'd like to take a bubble bath in those dimples now, please.

9:23: Dorky Emmy note: I like the way they've reordered the show by genre (all the comedy awards, then all the reality awards, then all the miniseries awards). I feel like it moves at a better pace this way. Added bonus: Since I know the miniseries awards are going to take up the next 20 minutes, I can pee and practice my fake acceptance speech with my borrowed Emmy in the bathroom mirror!

10:19: Drama montage. My friend: "If Friday Night Lights was on HBO, it would be nominated in every category." SO TRUE.

10:35: A belated yay for Michael Emerson and awww for Patrick Swayze, Bea Arthur and Co.

10:36: I am totally platonically spooning with Emmy on the couch right now.

10:50: Boooooo, I wanted Michael C. Hall to win. And I seriously think Jon Hamm was about to start crying, bless his heart.

10:58: What's with the Leno slam, Tina Fey? He didn't take your time slot!

11:01: Dexter or Lost, Dexter or Lost--booooooooooo. I have tried watching Mad Men. I have TRIED. And I JUST DON'T GET IT. It moves SO FREAKING SLOW!

And it's a wrap. Emmy and I are off to crash some very exclusive VIP parties (translation: read all the backstage gossip) ... happy Monday, everyone!

Randomness all around

2009-09-17T17:23:00.001-04:00

A few very random, nonsensical stories from my week to make up for my lack of blogging (long post alert!):

*** So, I'm driving home from book club a few nights ago at like 1:30 a.m. I'm behind another car in a left-turn lane. The light turns green but the car doesn't move, and we miss the light. A minute or two later, the light turns green again, and he's STILL not moving. I honk a little. Nothing. I honk again. Nothing. I LEAN on the horn. We miss the light. I get fed up and flip around to go the other way.

But then I'm like, crap, what if something's wrong, so I turn around again and go back to the intersection. I pull up next to him, and I can see him slumped over the wheel, so I jump out of my car and start knocking on his window to wake him up. Nothing. I try the door. Nothing. Now, I'm like, OK, SHOOT, what do I do? Do I call 911? Does this count as an emergency? Will I be arrested for abusing the system? I don't want to go to jail! Should I call the police department? I think I see a cop down the street, should I just go get him? Should I just keep knocking until he wakes up? WHAT DO I DO?

I decide to call 911. I go to my car to get my phone, and another guy pulls up behind us. I run over to tell him, look, you're gonna have to go around this guy, he's asleep and I've been trying to wake up him and now I'm calling the cops. He happens to work as a private security officer and has his radio with him, so he's like, here, I'll call dispatch. Two minutes later, we have FOUR cop cars and two EMTs in the intersection (plus my car, still running with the door hanging open in the middle of the street).

So the cops start pounding on the window with their flashlights, and he doesn't move. They get their lock thingies and try to unlock the door, and can't get it open. Then the paramedic looks in and is like, guys, I don't know if he's breathing, we need to break the window. So they smash the back window and he STILL doesn't wake up, and I'm like HOLY CRAP, what if he's dead, that will be so incredibly freaky, and the guy next to me is like, maybe he's in a diabetic coma, and I'm like, maybe he had a stroke or a heart attack, and he's like, maybe he had an allergic reaction, a really bad one. And back and forth we go.

Well. Apparently our friend in the black Explorer did not have a heart attack or a stroke, he had about 18 Jack and Cokes and was merely inebriated to the point of total nonresponsiveness. The cop took down our info, thanked us for our call and sent us on our merry way.

(Later, when I told people, they were like, YOU ARE INSANE. DO NOT GO UP TO PEOPLE LIKE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, THEY COULD KILL YOU. And here I was just worried about 911 etiquette.)

*** So this guy at work is in a band, and we went to this bar to see him play the other night. And there are two women dancing next to me, and all of a sudden one of them grabs my arm and points. "WHOOPI!" she cries.

She's pointing at this woman:

And, yes, the resemblance was impressive, striking even, but the funniest part to me was that this woman said nothing else, just grabbed my arm and yelled, "WHOOPI!" And now I have to keep fighting the urge to point off into the distance and yell "WHOOPI!!!" for no reason other than it makes me laugh.

*** I finally went to the dentist here, not so much because I'm concerned about my oral health but because I want to do Crest Whitestrips and I want to put those little strips in the best position to succeed by giving them super-clean teeth to work with. So I go, and they give me the "new patient" paperwork to fill out, and there's this whole huge medical history section. And maybe it's just been a while since I've filled out that kind of thing, but oh, my goodness, nosy much, Mr. Dentist? There were SO MANY things on there! The best is that it asks in about 16 different places whether you've had an STD. Like, OK, you said no the first time, but wait! We're going to ask you about VENEREAL diseases now! And herpes! And chlamydia! Like they're going to trick you into finally saying yes. The whole thing was just awkward. (P.S. They scraped the living hell out of my teeth and apparently I have a teeny, tiny cavity in between two of my back teeth, that maybe doesn't HAVE to be filled but should be, so I have to go back in two weeks. NOT THRILLED. Especially since my old dentist had cable and this one doesn't. It is SO much more palatable to have someone sticking drills and sharp objects in your mouth if you can watch Access Hollywood while they're doing it.)

*** We started talking about Miss Cleo at work the other day. No, I have no idea why, that's like asking me to explain cell division and binary fission, some things are just beyond my comprehension. But we were talking about Miss Cleo, which naturally led us to Miss Cleo's Wikipedia page, and did you know that Miss Cleo wasn't even Jamaican? I knew there was some big legal brouhaha a few years ago but I didn't realize that was one of the major takeaways, that she's not even Jamaican. (THE OUTRAGE!)

Anyway, my coworker is in the middle of a Miss Cleo rant when he stops and looks at me: "You totally called her, didn't you?" I look away, like, la la la, I can't hear you, I have things to edit and emails to reply to, and he's like, "You did! You totally called her! I knew it! WHY DOES THAT NOT SURPRISE ME ONE BIT?" And I'm like, well, if it doesn't surprise you one bit, why are you asking and, by the way, I only called for the five free minutes and she didn't even tell me anything ANYWAY.

He stares at me. "You know that wasn't really Miss Cleo, right? When you called?"
"I KNOW."
"You know they can't predict the future, right?"
"I KNOW."
He pauses. "So what did they tell you?"
"I don't know. I'd get married to someone with brown hair and have three kids."
"You know that like 90 percent of the population has brown hair, right?"
"I KNOW. I didn't say I was, like, RELYING on it. It was FIVE FREE MINUTES and it was, like, SIX YEARS AGO."
He shakes his head for a very, very long time. "I really do not understand you people."
I throw my hands in the hair. "You people? What is that, you people? What does that even MEAN?"
"WOMEN. I don't understand you WOMEN."

Right. All because of Miss Cleo.

(P.S. Have a great weekend, and by the way, SUNDAY IS EMMY DAY, YAY YAY YAY! I will be blogging during the show as always, with a little surprise this year. See you then!)

If my life had to be a movie, why couldn't it be one starring George Clooney?

2009-09-10T17:33:00.004-04:00

So I'm sitting there the other day, and I feel something tickling my ear, which is not such an unusual thing when you're a girl with longish hair. I put my hair behind my ear, but I still feel it. I push it back again, and it's still there and ... AHHHHH, IS THERE A BUG IN MY EAR? SICK, SICK, EWWWWW, GET OUT--

There's no bug in my ear. My ear stops tickling and I move on with life.

But THEN! A day or two later, I feel it again. I smack my ear for a minute, and it goes away. But then--THEN--yesterday at work, I feel it again. And it WILL NOT GO AWAY, and did I ever mention that I was neurotic, and did you ever see that Star Trek movie The Wrath of Khan with the little worm things they put in people's ears, and OH, MY GOSH, I AM GOING INSANE.

"I think I have a bug in my ear," I announce.

"You do not have a bug in your ear," my coworker says, already completely bored with the whole conversation.

"But how do you KNOW?" I ask.

He lets out a very heavy, very labored sigh, the sigh of a man who knows it's only 8:23 a.m. and there's a whole lot of neurotic, hypochondriac chatter left in the day, and walks over. He looks in my ear. "No bug."

"OK," I say, "thank you." But then it starts tingling again and HOLY FREAKING CRAP, I ALREADY HAD ONE ANIMAL BUILD A NEST IN MY CAR, WHAT IF ONE IS BUILDING ONE NOW IN MY BRAIN? AHHHHHH.

So, naturally, my next step is to turn to Google (the litany of dire diagnoses--skin cancer, brain tumor, leukemia--it has given me in the past clearly not a deterrent). And instead of telling me that, no, silly Swishy, there is definitely not a bug in your ear, Dr. Google tells me that, you know, stranger things have happened than a doctor finding a bug in someone's ear. I tell my coworker as much.

"Well," he says, "what kind of vacuum do you have at home?"

OK, I say, that is definitely not funny. What do you think it is?

"It could be swine flu," he says. "I don’t know all the symptoms."

I glare at him and tell him I hope he catches it, then, for being so rotten. Another coworker jumps in and says I should go the doctor: "He’ll either tell you, yes, you have a bug in your ear, or no, you’re just paranoid, get off the crack."

"Not that!" my other coworker exclaims. "You can't take away her crack!"

Ha ha, very funny, you are all hilarious, just two big rays of sunshine and light and laughter in my life, I reply. Meanwhile, a bug is LAYING EGGS in my BRAIN.

A few minutes pass, and the feeling goes away. Of course, I announce as much. "Well, it can’t do any damage if it’s napping," my coworker says. He pauses, then adds: "You know what you should do? You should rent movies like Alien and watch it for possibilities of what could happen."

I think that's when I threw the Nerf football at his head.

So I go home, and I eat dinner, and I'm rinsing dishes at the sink, when I look up and see something seriously--I really am being serious now--SERIOUSLY disturbing. Like, freak-out disturbing. Like, run and turn off the kitchen light and hide in the corner disturbing (which, incidentally, is exactly what I did).

OK. This is the deal. There are spiders building an entire housing development outside my kitchen window. SCARY SPIDERS. POISONOUS-LOOKING SPIDERS. SPIDERS WITH BABIES. It is literally Arachnophobia outside my kitchen window. And yes, my window is closed, but wait, what's this? ONE OF THE BABIES HAS GOTTEN INSIDE AND IS SITTING THERE ON MY WINDOWSILL MAKING FACES AND STICKING ITS TONGUE OUT AT ME.

So, to recap: I feel like I have a bug in my ear, and mere hours later I see the New York City of spider towns outside my window AND a baby spider IN MY HOUSE. Hmmm. IS IT ANY WONDER I'M NEUROTIC?

I mean, did you THINK I was exaggerating here? TOTAL ARACHNOPHOBIA SPIDER!

OK. I killed the baby, just smushed the hell out of it, so it's gone. The rest sleep during the day, they come out at night, the whole thing is very disconcerting, but I mean, as long as I keep the window shut, I'm OK, right? They'll die when it gets cold, right? They won't lay a bunch of spider baby eggs that will hatch in the spring and eat my brain and feast on my corpse, right? RIGHT?!?!?

Holy crap, my ear is totally tingling again. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

A little bit of whatever

2009-09-03T23:16:00.006-04:00

Well, hello there. One of my best friends came to visit, so I've been kind of MIA lately. We did a little bit of everything--concert, movies, amusement park, yummy food, sightseeing-ish stuff--and it was just nice to be with someone familiar again. He's known me for almost 10 years and is one of the best people I've ever known, so kind and patient with me. He left yesterday and oh, my goodness, the train wreck he left behind. I was crying rivers and swimming pools and hot tubs all night and into this morning. I guess I just miss everything. And sometimes when I'm stressed or trying not to be sad, I act really mean and snotty to people who are good to me, which makes me feel horrible and makes everything so much worse.

Sigh. So, yes. Lots of chocolate and Kleenex in Swishyville this week.

But! Visits are good, the weather's good, life is good, People.com and Entertainment Weekly are good. Let's talk some pop culture and entertainment to make everything a little better, shall we?

Big Brother. Yes, I am inexplicably still watching this train wreck of a show, albeit mostly in pieces while I clean or check email or whatever else. I cannot stand that girl Natalie, CANNOT STAND HER. The fact that she won HOH for next week is almost enough to make me shut it off for good. CAN'T. STAND. HER.

Project Runway. My early money is on Ra'mon, Shirin and the girl with two names and blonde hair. (How lazy am I that I am ON THE INTERNET and I won't just Google her name. Instead, she's the girl who two names and blonde hair. Fine. FINE. I will Google. Carol Hannah, her name is Carol Hannah. OK? Everyone good?) Also, maybe Christopher.

Top Chef. Love the brothers and the sorta-bitchy blonde girl whose name is ... wait, I've got it ... JENNIFER! Yes! I remembered one of the reality blonde girls' names! (The one name versus two definitely helps.)

Friday Night Lights. We had a little mini-marathon Sunday night and oh, man, that show just kills me. Just do yourself a favor and rent it. You will never, ever, ever regret it, except maybe the fact that it'll spoil you for TV forever. (Or not. See Exhibit A: Big Brother. But at least you'll KNOW you're spoiled!)

(500) Days of Summer. Very cute movie, with a perfect ending that made me a little teary because even though it was perfect it was still ... well, if you saw it, you know. Also saw The Time Traveler's Wife, which, while a bit slow, also made me cry. YES, I AM A GIRL.

The Duggars. Oh, goodness. I think it is a little tacky the way people talk about them sometimes because, you know, it's probably not really anyone's business how many kids someone does or doesn't have as long as the kids are taken care of and supported. But holy freaking crap, I cannot wrap my head around 19 kids. Nineteen children coming out of one person's body. Not all at once, but still. NINETEEN. I just ... wow.

Jon Gosselin. Total emotional infant. I have officially flipped from Team Jon to Team Kate, although to be honest I wouldn't really miss either one of them on the cover of my People magazine. Give me hot sexy single bachelors, People magazine!

OK, that's all I've got for now. Have a good weekend, everyone!

She may have a point

2009-08-26T03:49:00.005-04:00

So I was at my parents' house last week. They moved to a new town last fall--it's not the house I grew up in or anything--which means I'm not super familiar with the neighborhood. Which also, naturally, gives my mom extra license to participate in one of her very favorite activities ever, backseat driving, when I am there.

So I'm driving my mom and my brother to lunch. We're going down a big hill, and I hug one of the turns a little close. And when I say a little, I mean, like, BARELY.

"Swishy!" she gasps, throwing herself around like Raggedy Ann over there for effect. "Be careful!"

"MOM."

"SWISHY," she says, and let me tell you, there hasn't been this kind of drama in her tone since a certain aunt engaged in certain extracurricular activities right before my cousin's wedding, "Swishy, I'm not even kidding, someone DIES on this road almost EVERY DAY."

I nearly almost DO drive off the road this time, because oh, my goodness, if there was not a more melodramatic statement in all the world. I can't stop laughing.

"You are beyond ridiculous," I say.

"It's true," she insists. "Almost every day there's an ambulance going down the road."

I tell her if those kind of scare tactics didn't work when she told me my face would freeze that way and the gum would stick to the walls of my stomach forever, they were not about to start working now. And yet, there she goes again with the death talk on the way back after lunch.

"RIGHT," I say, waving my hands in the air. "It's a TOTAL DEATH TRAP of a street. People are just DYING left and right. I mean, really. REALLY."

My brother pipes up from the backseat: "Well, there IS a senior citizen home on the street."

I whip around. "WHAT? Is that true?"

My mom shrugs. "I just said a lot of people died on this road, I didn't say HOW."

What can I say, I like to talk

2009-08-17T03:05:00.002-04:00

So I'm going to catch a train--a train that, naturally, I'm running about 3 minutes late for and subsequently miss--when I realize I can't find my cell phone. I rifle through my monstrosity of a bag, then full-on dump it everywhere, and still no phone. I have no clue where it is. It could be sitting on my bathroom sink, on the hood of my car, in the hands of some nosy, nosy girl who now is reading all of my text messages and posting them on her blog, I HAVE NO CLUE.

This is a very big problem. I never leave my house without my cell phone. I mean, practically almost never. I am supposed to be meeting my brother. I am not going to be home the rest of the day. You know those people who are like, my cell phone died for, like, five hours the other day, and it was so great, so nice and peaceful, I didn't miss having a phone at all? You may be one of those people, in which case I tip my LED screen to you, but I AM NOT. I was very, very late to the cell phone party, but now that I am here, you will have to drag me kicking and screaming out the door after all the balloons have popped and streamers have been kicked around and everyone else is long gone. I NEED TO HAVE MY PHONE.

At the moment, though, I just need to figure out how to tell my brother that he is not going to be able to call or text me to find out where to meet me. I dig back, way, way back into the recesses of my brain, to try to remember HOW ON EARTH people communicated before cell phones. I could send him a letter ... too slow. I could send a pigeon ... I don't trust them, they poop a lot and I think they have little brains. Pay phone ... pretty sure those no longer exist. Email ... oh, yeah, no computer.

I am seriously--I wish I were kidding--considering trying to telepathically send him a message when I end up borrowing someone else's cell phone. A much fancier, much more technologically advanced cell phone than mine, a phone I can barely figure out how to talk on, let alone dial. And then we run into the other problem: I don't know his number. I don't know ANYONE'S number. I used to be the queen of remembering people's numbers, back in the dark ages of rotary phones and horse-drawn carriages, but who needs to memorize phone numbers when they can just be programmed in? When that valuable real estate in my brain can be turned over to memorizing the Jolie-Pitts' middle names and birth dates instead? Not me, no way.

After a minute or two, during which time the cell phone lender gives me several strange looks and very nearly snatches the thing right back out of my hands, I come up with my mom's number. I call her and ask her to relay the message.

Meanwhile, across the aisle from me, two teenagers are refusing to pay their train fare and the ticket collector is threatening to call the cops. The lady in front of them turns around and begs them to reconsider.

Lady: Pay them! They'll take you to jail!
Punk kid (sullenly): For what.
Lady: They'll take you to the blue pen! You don't want to go there. Trust me. I've been there.
Punk kid glares.
Lady: And it's a weekend, too, you won't see a judge til Monday. (Cackles.) I've been locked up lots of times, I know.

The train slows down, and the kids get ready to make a break for it.
Lady: Run! Run!

The train stops, but the doors don't open. Instead, we are informed that there will be a slight delay while we wait for police assistance. This is spectacular. There will be a riot two feet away from me over $5.25 train fares and I DON'T HAVE A PHONE.

That is basically the theme for the rest of the day: I DON'T HAVE A PHONE. My brother sending a text, the teenage girl gabbing on her hot pink Razr, the guy looking something up on his BlackBerry--they are ALL mocking me because they have phones and I DON'T.

I know it's neurotic. I KNOW. But I'll tell you what, when I came home to find my phone sitting primly on the kitchen counter, right next to the charger, I hugged it and kissed it and swore that, Verizon as my witness, I'd never leave it again.

At least we don't pull each other's hair anymore

2009-08-12T04:21:00.006-04:00

I have two sisters. None of us lives near each other, so we keep talking about doing an annual girls trip. We have brought it up a million times, maybe even a zillion, and it has yet to happen. We started yet another email chain about it yesterday after my brother got an internship offer, and honestly, it is amazing we can focus long enough to put on our shoes and walk out to the car every morning, let alone actually plan a weekend together.

*****

To: Keek; Teflon (yes, I really call them that)
From: Swishy
Subject: Mike's internship

Looks like we’ve got a girls trip to Europe planned! We'll just crash at Mike's place! Haha.

*****

K: Did I miss something? Did Mike get an internship in Europe? How come no one ever tells me these things!

*****

ME: Because you live in CALIFORNIA, which is like another country/time zone. He got an internship offer in France.

*****

K: Does this mean he’s going to be trying to prove to us that he speaks fluent French? Seriously, though, we should do it. Not in the spring though, that’s when the season starts, we should go in Feb or March when it’s really cheap. For real, though, we have no excuse not to do it now.

*****

T: We should make it open invitation, don’t you think? At least so Mom doesn’t feel left out ... she’d be happy hanging out at the museums while we run around trying to pick up on European men ...

*****

ME: I don't know when I can go. We'll have to plan. Teflon may have to sacrifice some of the time she has allocated toward being a groupie.

*****

T: Hahahhaha watch it!! I'm not a groupie ... I’m a friend. :-) Groupies only get VIP access if they sleep with the band ... I'm a good little girl.

*****

ME: Ohhhhh, baaaaaaby, yooooooouuuuu, you got what I neeeeeeeed, but you say he's just a friend, you say he's just a friend ...

*****

K: Ha ha ha ha ha.

*****

T: LOL ... whatever ... you two don't understand me.

*****

ME: Do too, you're a band-aid like in Almost Famous.

*****

T: Word.

Best,
Teflon Teflonstein

*****

ME: I mean, really. Would you just look at that email.

"Word.
Best,
Teflon Teflonstein"

*****

T: It's my sig line!!! Oh so speaking of trips Dad is going on a camping trip. He is in a good mood about it.

*****

ME: Gooooooooood times to be in the Swishy family. Except me, I am effing starving.

*****

T: The inside of my ear keeps itching and it’s driving me NUTS.

Best,
Teflon Teflonstein

*****

K: Ok, so for some reason my work email thinks Swishy is spam, so I keep getting Teflon's replies before I get Swishy's email. Haha, Swishy is spam!
I’m sorry you’re starving, Swish.

*****

S: Swishy is Spam.

Best,
Teflon Teflonstein

*****

ME: WHAT IS WITH THAT REPLY!
WHAT IS WITH THE BEST! ENOUGH WITH THE BEST!
I AM NOT SPAM!

OK, so seriously, I got a turkey burger the other day from the cafeteria and it was so freaking disgusting, they didn’t cook it all the way. SIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK.

*****

K: That’s because it’s a freaking turkey burger, those are always disgusting.

*****

T: Groooooossssssss. My ear still itches ... it started itching after I had my Skullcandy headphones in ... maybe it’s dust in my ear. Weird.

*****

K: Maybe Teflon has one of those creepy type earwig things. Those always freaked me out.

*****

T: Ewwwwwwww.

*****

K: My email can be monitored for security reasons ... sometimes I wonder how much eye rolling or laughing goes on when they happen to come across certain emails.

*****

ME: Ours too. I asked them once if they read our email and the guy was like, whatever, I am insulted, I have better things to do with my time than read your missives on Britney Spears. I was like, um, like WHAT, because that sounds like a great use of time to me. Except not Britney Spears, she bores me.

*****

T: Oh mercy.

(Needless to say, there is no trip planned.)

I still get goosebumps when I hear If You Leave

2009-08-07T03:49:00.003-04:00

So I'm sitting at work clicking around when I see the AP news alert: John Hughes dead at 59. Immediately, I gasp, and the guy across from me is like, what? And I'm like, John Hughes. Oh, my gosh, this is so sad, John Hughes is dead.

He's only a few years younger than me, but he looks at me and is like, "John Who?"

You've got to be kidding me, I say. How do you not know John Hughes? He was, like, the DEFINING VOICE of adolescence for an ENTIRE generation. Every single movie you watch about kids in high school today, they learned how to do it (though not nearly as well) from John Hughes. Pretty in Pink? Breakfast Club? Some Kind of Wonderful? Sixteen Candles? JAKE RYAN? Every girl in the WORLD loves Jake Ryan! You HAVE to know Jake Ryan!

He gives me a little bit of a helpless look, and all I can say is, I feel so bad for you, because you have SO missed out.

I love all of the big ones, but my favorite John Hughes movie is Pretty in Pink. Oh, how I loved Pretty in Pink. I hated Blane, just hated him, for how spineless he was, and I was so proud of Andie for sewing up the pretty pink dress herself and going to the prom anyway. (Oh, and Annie Potts! How could you not love Annie Potts in that movie!) My heart broke into tiny little jagged pieces for Duckie, but that last scene still got me anyway. "If You Leave" in the rain ... gosh, I love that movie so much.

This story from the Washington Post five years ago remains one of my favorite stories ever. The headline: "Real Men Can't Hold a Match to Jake Ryan." First line: "Listen to all the Thompson Twins songs you want, but let's finally admit that Jake Ryan from 'Sixteen Candles' is never coming to get you."

No way. I refuse to believe it.

The one where I'm standing on the porch like an orphan

2009-08-02T21:36:00.007-04:00

So, one of the great things about where I live now is how much there is to do. I had a couple of random days off last week, so I decided to be adventurous and explore a little while the weather was nice. Of course, I needed to put a million things in my car for this little adventure--iPod, cooler, sofa and five-piece dining set--which required a couple trips to the car. I walked out with the first batch of stuff and ran into my neighbor on the way out. "Hi!" I said, holding the door for him, all full of light and enthusiasm because, hey! It's sunny out! It's a weekday! Everyone else is at work and I'm going on a little adventure! Hello, he said, in his darling Turkish accent, then disappeared inside.

I dumped everything in the front seat of my car. I walked back over to the door and ... ohhhhhhhh, crap. Crap crap crappity CRAP, I'd managed to lock myself out. OF COURSE I had.

OK. This is the deal. I live in a locked building. I have two house keys--one for the outside door, one to my actual apartment--and zero spares. I had left my apartment door hanging wide open, but there was no way to get inside the outside door.

But! My neighbor had just breezed through the door! His apartment is on the ground floor next to the outside door, so no problem, I'll tap on the door, flash him a charming smile and he'll let me in, right?

Tap. Tap, tap, TAP, TAP, TAP, BANG. Nothing.

OK, wait. Wait a second. I had to get into the car somehow, right? Silly Swishy, the keys were probably just sitting on the seat. I walk back over to the car and look everywhere. I mean, EVERYWHERE. And then I remember that, oh, yeah, I'd gone to Target and left the car unlocked while I went inside to get my stuff. Ohhhhhh, yeahhhhhh.

(We resume this episode of "Swishy is an Idiot," now in progress.)

I go around to the front this time and buzz my neighbor. Silence. I buzz again. Silence. At this point, I'm like, you've got to be kidding me. Dude. DUDE! I JUST held the door for you! I've lived above you for nine months! I'VE HEARD YOU HAVE SEX. WE HAVE A RELATIONSHIP. OPEN THE DOOR.

He does not open the door.

I try another neighbor. Nada. I know my next-door neighbor is gone, because I am very observant/a nosy neighbor/a stalker, so I move on to the next one. Unfortunately, there are only four other people who live in my part of the building. Unfortunately, I also appear to be the only lady of leisure, because no one else is home at noon on a weekday.

At this point, I'm like, OK. Option A: Sit on the steps and wait for one of my neighbors to come home. Option B: Channel MacGyver and try picking the lock using a combination of the following things in my glove compartment: tampon, nail file, hand sanitizer, ballpoint pen and Extra gum (watermelon flavor). Option C: Track down my landlord. Naturally, I do not have his number programmed into my cell phone, because did I mention that this episode is called "Swishy is an Idiot"? Fortunately, however, I am either not TOTALLY an idiot or very lucky, because I DO have a spare car key in my bag. So I drive to his office and cross my fingers and all my toes that this isn't the week he decided to go on a lavish vacation or flee the country.

It isn't. He drives over right away and lets me in, and there are my keys, smack dab on the middle of the couch. Moral of the story: I am TOTALLY making copies of my keys.

(P.S. I DID have a fun adventure. I listened to music and went shopping and walked on the beach. And I didn't even lock myself out of the car, not even once.)

Holy cannoli, it's been a while

2009-07-24T03:33:00.003-04:00

You guys! I have had just the hardest time settling into a real blogging groove since I moved. Part of this is because my schedule is a little nutty sometimes, along with the fact that it takes awhile after you move to get settled and into a real routine again anyway (or at least that's what I keep telling myself ... I've FINALLY started going to the gym on a semi-regular basis, which is a minor miracle in itself). And part of this--I swear this is true--is my coffee shop. I am not even kidding. I wrote, like, 90 percent of my posts (and the vast majority of my emails, which is a whole other story) at my old coffee shop, and my computer and I seriously cannot function without it. I am adrift, like an upside-down beetle waving its little legs in the air in the middle of a swimming pool, without my corner booth and the soft lighting and the warm chocolate chip cookies. AND the CIA agent!

But I am going to work on it, I am, I really am. In the meantime, a little bit of this and a little bit of that from the last week or so:

* I have officially been sucked into Big Brother. I watched it for the first time last summer, because it was a diversion from life. I'm watching it this summer because I'm coming home late from work, I have Showtime now, which shows the live feed from midnight to 3 am every night, and I have no willpower. So what you have now is me, sitting here, watching a 30-year-old man pluck his eyebrows like it's high entertainment.

* I finished this book and started this book.

* I was having kind of a bad day the other day, the kind of day where you feel like a 13-year-old girl holed up in her bedroom, listening to angry/depressing/sad music, writing in her diary so hard the pen rips through the paper and feeling completely misunderstood, unappreciated and invisible to the entire world. And then my friend sent me a text. It said, "I like your face," and somehow it was enough to make the inner, melodramatic 13-year-old put down the pen and turn down the music a little, and the world didn't seem so bad anymore.

* I went to this guy's barbeque the other day. I went all by my lonesome, without a wingman, which, holy crap, can be a little scary, because I know him but not really anyone else who was there, and they all know each other and hang out all the time. Our other friend was supposed to go but he couldn't make it at the last minute, and I was like, OK, Swish, just be brave for an hour and then you can go home and watch Big Brother on the safety of your big, comfy couch. Three hours later, I was dancing in the living room to Kanye West (SANS ALCOHOL!).

* I came home the other day just dying, dying, dying, I was so tired, but it was SUCH a nice day out, so instead of falling on the couch and taking a nap I made myself go down the street to the park and lay on a blanket there instead. I put my iPod on shuffle ... and, you know, sometimes I think I have pretty consistent taste in music, but when you mix it all up, man, do you get a random playlist. A sample:

Where Does the Good Go, Tegan and Sara
Strawberry Fields Forever, The Beatles
King of Wishful Thinking, Go West
A Murder of One, Counting Crows
If You Wanna be My Lover, Spice Girls
The Joker, The Steve Miller Band
Chocolate, Snow Patrol
Meet Me Halfway, Kenny Loggins

OK, I have MEET ME HALFWAY sandwiched between Snow Patrol and the Spice Girls. I mean ... really.

* We had a big drama at work yesterday, followed by another big drama, and after 11 hours or whatever I came home just, like, drained. My friend IMed me, and was like, are you happy right now? And I said, oh, so-so, long day, but I'm OK. And he said, OK, I know how you can smile right this second. 100 percent, scientifically proven, guaranteed smile. And in my head, I was like, if you make a comment about sex I will kill you, but instead he sent me this. I didn't even need to listen to the whole thing, I smiled right away, and I hope it makes you smile too if you need it. Have a good weekend, everyone!

What a man

2009-07-13T01:41:00.003-04:00

So I finally saw The Proposal the other day. It was cute and funny, just like I'd heard, but my real takeaway walking out of the theater was, holy crap, Ryan Reynolds is a MAN. I don't mean a man in the sense that he has all the right parts (including a killer set of abs, yes, oh, yes, does he ever), but you know ... a MAN.

I say all the time that I feel so bad for girls today, because you look around Hollywood and there are just no young guys who are MEN. I loved Tom Cruise when I was younger, just adored him. I don't care that he's five foot nothing and has a little crazy in him, when you saw him chasing after an older woman in Top Gun and thundering away at Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, he was a MAN. Same for Brad Pitt 10 or 15 years ago. Now, who is there ... Shia LeBeouf? People's Sexiest Bachelor Chace Crawford? I loved the Rolling Stone cover of a water-soaked Zac Efron as much as the next budding cougar, but really? REALLY?

I've decided this absolute DEARTH of testosterone-laced manliness is a reflection of society as a whole. I feel like most of the guys I come across are just waiting for a woman to tell them what to do. And yes, that's very nice sometimes, like when there are heavy things to be lifted and tires to be changed, but the rest of the time it makes me INSANE. If I wanted a child, I WOULD HAVE A CHILD. There's the whole theory about women wanting to be "taken" by a man, and I guess that's part of it, but there's more to it than that. A man is confident, he's mature, he's decisive, he's an equal ... I don't know. He's a MAN.

I discussed this with my friend after watching that movie, and we came up with our short list of the manliest young men in Hollywood:

Taylor Kitsch. If you have not seen Friday Night Lights (the TV show, not the movie), stop reading right this second and go to Netflix or Blockbuster and GET THOSE DVDS. I will even send you mine if you pinkie swear you'll wipe the drool off before you give them back. (He also is in Wolverine, which I have not seen but hear is one big man convention thanks to Mr. Jackman as well.)

Leonardo DiCaprio. He is a little bit stunted in his personal life, I guess, but get him on a movie screen, and wow.

Josh Duhamel. I have shaken that strong, bronzed hand of his, and holy hot flashes and heart palpitations, is he ever a man. HELLO. Go to page 77 of the new InStyle (Katherine Heigl cover) and thank me later.

And yes, Ryan Reynolds. It's not about how he looked, it's about how he came across, as someone who was smart and confident and funny and very sure of who he was. That is MANLY.

Although, I mean, let's be honest, looking like this doesn't hurt:

Things I am totally over

2009-07-06T23:35:00.007-04:00

* Standing in line for an hour at the Apple store--despite having made an appointment and arriving early for said appointment--only to have my beloved iPod pronounced dead in about 10 seconds. He picked it up, yes, but I don't even think he LOOKED at it.

* Drama queens, mama's boys and/or passive-aggressive people.

* Failing to find a wealthy benefactor who wants to pay me piles and piles of money to live a life of leisure, or at least a solid, all-expense-paid month of leisure so I can read a book in the sun and finally get through my DVR. (I know I went on a little vacation in May, I know. But it seems like sooooo! looooong! ago!)

* My hair. Yes, I got it cut, and no, I am not totally ready to talk about it yet. Put it this way: On the disaster scale, it's probably more of a heavy thunderstorm than a hurricane, but try telling that to the sad, broken branches lying in the middle of the street. (Cue frowny face.)

* That even the most spectacularly convincing case of denial doesn't make pepperoni pizza and Oreo Cakesters calorie-free. Or walking around the block a major workout.

* The battery on my phone repeatedly dying in the middle of conversations. (This might have something to do with the fact that I repeatedly forget to charge it. Tomato, tomahto.)

* This girl canceling on me tonight to go another girl's birthday party, which I was NOT invited to. Yes, I realize how second grade that sounds.

* Did I mention the drama queens and mama's boys?

You?

I can't believe I'm putting this on my blog

2009-06-29T11:53:00.007-04:00

I feel like when you move somewhere with someone--spouse, kid, roommate, whatever--there is still at least one person around who knows all about you. Moving alone is a little different, and lately it has been bothering me a little bit that no one here really knows me that well ... you know, like, REALLY really. I mean, I have friends, I hang out with people, but there isn't anyone here who knew me this time last year, and it's WEIRD. It kind of wears me out sometimes, to be honest--I feel like I am constantly explaining myself, the way that I am and the way that I think about things because people don't know it yet. Only I don't always do it very well because I am a little bit of a hard person to get to know anyway. I'm pretty friendly and chatty so sometimes it takes people awhile to realize that, but I don't know, that's just how I am.

Which is why it just warms my soul, from the hair on my head right down to my tippy toes, when I talk to someone who DOES know me and all my quirks. When someone can send me this video, this absolutely ridiculous, nonsensical, pointless video and just KNOW it will make me laugh for exact reasons unknown to either of us.

Like, WHAT is this video? Why would anyone MAKE it, let alone WATCH it, let alone SEND it to another person? But my friend did, and it made me laugh, and I watched it again like 10 times while we were talking. ("Pervert," he said. HA.) It's that look the guy gets at the 20-second mark, it just cracks me up.

So there you go. Smoking, singing shower guy. Happy Monday, everyone!

The ubiquitous Jon and Kate

2009-06-22T19:37:00.000-04:00

So. I am about as sick of Jon and Kate as the next person (seriously, People magazine? TWO COVERS?), but of course I'm going to be glued to my TV tonight with the rest of the crazy people to see what their "big announcement" is going to be. I first watched the show during one of those marathons TLC loves to do about a year and a half ago. I was flipping channels and having kind of a sad day, and I ended up watching like three hours of it because it made me feel better.

I watched an old episode the other night, where Jon made everyone a traditional Korean dinner, and I couldn't believe how different it was then compared to now. They had a normal house, wore normal clothes, lived a normal life. Kate was less blonde, less tan, less toned, and Jon was goofy and a little clueless, and they just seemed happy.

It was so awkward watching the season premiere this year, because she's sooo pissed and he's sooo defensive and it is just really sad. I think when a relationship starts to crack, there's a natural tendency to want to go back and point out all of the reasons why it was flawed from the beginning, how the writing was on the wall, maybe because we don't want to admit how easily something good can turn into something bad. But you know what? They really WERE happy, and you can see it, just like you can see how unhappy they are now.

So I hope they don't announce that they're breaking up. I hope they announce that they're going to stop doing the show after the season, go away for a long time and just try to get their lives back. I don't really know if that's possible. I think sometimes there are Pandora's boxes in life and once you open them, it's really, really hard to close them again. But I sort of hope they can close theirs.

(Watch them announce that they're going to, like, go on vacation or something. That would be SO LAME. Hello, I am Swishy, and I am part of the problem. I know, I know.)

**********

Update: I am just about to watch the show, but I guess the news is already out. Sad.

It's a texture thing

2009-06-18T23:19:00.001-04:00

I'm at Moe's, ordering a chicken soft taco.

Him: Cheese?
Me: Just a tiny, tiny pinch. Tiny bit.
He sprinkles on a little bit of cheese and looks up: More?
Me: Nope, that's perfect, thank you.

He looks at me like, you are such a weirdo, what is the point of even PUTTING cheese on your taco if that's all you're going to have?

Him: Lettuce? Tomato?
Me: Nope, that's great, thank you.
Him, folding up the taco: Anything else?
Me: Yeah ... can I get a side of queso?

He looks at me like, OK, now you really ARE a weirdo.

Him: You know that queso is cheese, right?
Me: I know, I know.
Him: You know that's a little unusual, right?
Me: What can I say, I'm one big contradiction.
Him: Keeps them guessing, huh?

Ohhhh, yes. Swishy, woman of mystery.

South of the border

2009-06-10T18:47:00.003-04:00

I am back and I did not die of swine flu! Yay! I did, however, end up working about as many hours as I missed when I got back, which is why it has taken me forever and a day to post about my non-death.

Sigh. Anyway.

First of all, the quick overview: I went with a couple of friends, and we flew down Thursday and came back Monday. It was my first real vacation-vacation in like four years, and I had such a lovely time. We did nothing. Nothing, nothing, nuhhhhhhhhh-thing, unless you count getting out of bed, eating, dragging a chair into the ocean and sleeping/reading all day as something, in which case we did a LOT.

The room:

The view from where we ate lunch every day:

The form I had to fill out upon both arrival and departure, which apparently was sufficient enough to award me with a clean bill of health:

Of course, you know I had to have my little calamaties thrown in here and there. There was a little bit of an issue checking in, during which I got to spend 20 fantastic minutes on hold with Expedia customer service, staring at the ocean but SO. FAR. AWAY. from it, but whatever, not the end of the world. Much more traumatic was my toilet paper experience. As in, I went into the lobby bathroom, practically hopping up and down I had to pee so bad, emptied about a gallon's worth of pina coladas and Diet Coke from my bladder (definitely no water, because while the bathrooms were lovely, I didn't want to spend THAT much time in them) only to find ... there was no toilet paper. THAT experience.

The first thing you usually do in those situations is see if there is a friendly soul in the stall next to you who can pass some toilet paper over the door. No dice. Next, I looked in my bag for a Kleenex, a napkin, a crumpled piece of paper with my pre-trip to-do list, ANYTHING. Nope.

(I had JUST SHOWERED. Not using some form of toilet paper was NOT AN OPTION.)

I tried reaching under the stall into the stall next to mine. I crouched on the floor, coming dangerously close to pulling a Britney on anyone who dared walk in, and almost popped my shoulder out of its socket reaching around for the toilet paper dispenser on the wall. Finally, FINALLY, my fingers found the plastic edge of the dispenser. I reached in and ...

NO TOILET PAPER IN THERE EITHER.

Meanwhile, my friend was outside waiting for me, and I started to calculate how long it would take for her to come in and rescue me. Five minutes? Five hours? Would she be swept off her feet by a dashing Latin lover and forget all about me? Would I DIE here, the stubborn girl who forgot the cardinal rule of public bathrooms: CHECK FOR TOILET PAPER FIRST.

The door clanged open. "Excuse me?" I said. No response. I tried again. "Excuse me?" In my head, I'm like, how do you say toilet paper, how do you say toilet paper, WHY DO I NOT REMEMBER HOW DO SAY TOILET PAPER FROM NINTH-GRADE SPANISH?

And then the toilet flushed and I grabbed my chance. I pulled my dress tight around my knees, leaned forward and swung open the door. "Hi," I said. "Can you, um, pass me some toilet paper?" She was beautifully dressed, and looked at me for a second like, you've seriously, SERIOUSLY, got to be kidding me. And then she ripped off a piece, threw it in my general direction and ran away.

I did not use that bathroom again for the rest of the trip.

The other thing that happened was on the morning we left. I woke up, my face all mashed into the pillow, and was like, "I feel like I have a fat lip." I sat up and ran my tongue across my lips. "Oh, yeah," I said. "I DEFINITELY have a fat lip." I had a million mosquito bites from the night before, so naturally my first glass-half-full reaction was that it was some rare strain of some horrible disease, but really, they were just puffy from my sitting in salt water for eight hours ... and BONUS! I had Angelina Jolie lips for a morning!

A couple more pictures because I am obnoxious like that:

The sand castle I started to build on the beach.

Pretty!

Buenos dias

2009-05-27T23:59:00.003-04:00

So I'm going on a little vacay to Mexico tomorrow, where I hopefully will get very tan and well-rested and NOT catch swine flu. I hadn't told my parents I was going out of town, probably because in my head I am still 12 and feel like I need permission to spend the night at Stacey Klein's house, let alone go out of the country by myself. But then I had visions of being abducted or my house burning down or some big family drama breaking out the one weekend I don't have my cell phone glued to my hip, and decided I probably should give my mom a heads up that I wouldn't be around JUST IN CASE.

Me: OK, so I'm going out of town for a couple of days, just so you know.
Her: Where?
Me: Not telling.
Her: WHY NOT?
Me: Because. You'd freak out.
Her (indignant): I would not FREAK OUT. I get it, you're an adult. I GET IT. (Pause.) Does this have something to do with a boy? Is that why you won't tell me?
Me: NO! I'm not telling you because you'd freak out.
Her: You give me no credit. (Thinks for a second.) Alabama?
Me: Mom. Why would I go to Alabama?
Her: Arkansas?
Me: MOM!
Her: Well, you SAID I would freak out.
(It's possible my mother has some unresolved issues with the South.)

(Much, much later.)
Me: FINE. I'll give you a hint. (I snort like a pig.)
Her: I KNEW it was Alabama!
Me: MOM!
Her: Pigs ... bacon ... ham ... OH! Swine flu! Mexico! (Pause.) I thought you said I'd freak out. We've got more swine flu in the New York area than they do in the whole COUNTRY of Mexico right now.
Me: I know, I know.
Her: I thought you were going to tell me somewhere where you were going to be sold into white slavery or something. You're so ... paranoid.
Me: I KNOW I'm paranoid. I'm the most paranoid person I know.

But here's the thing: Can you REALLY be considered paranoid (I prefer neurotic, but whatever) if your whole life is practically a string of Exhibits A, B and C of why said paranoia is COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED? I mean, of course I'm going to miss my flight or lose my passport or have my top fall off in the ocean in front of a pack of impressionable 10-year-old boys. OF COURSE I AM.

And, naturally, I will tell you all about it in a few days. Have a good weekend, everyone!

The great debate

2009-05-13T23:59:00.002-04:00

Coworker A: I'm going to get a sandwich. Does anyone want anything?

No, thanks, we say. He leaves the room. He comes back a few minutes later and starts dialing the phone.

Coworker B: What is he doing?
I shrug.

A few minutes later, Coworker A hangs up.

Coworker B: Were you just ordering your sandwich?
Coworker A: Yeah, I don't like to wait. It's awkward.
Coworker B: Wait a second. You order ahead at, like, Subway? Places like that?
Coworker A: Yeah. I don't like to stand at the counter.
Coworker B: But to call ahead for ONE sandwich? Why? Who DOES that?
Coworker A: A lot of people do.
Coworker B: Really? How many? Ask them. Ask them when you go, how many people do that.
Coworker A: I'm not asking them that.
Coworker B: Why not?
Coworker A: I have no comment. This is a stupid conversation.

He comes back with his sandwich.

Coworker B: Did you ask?
Coworker A: No.
Coworker B: Why? Aren’t you curious?
Coworker A: No. Look, all I know is that if I hadn't called ahead, I'd still be standing there waiting.
Coworker B: That's a little bit of an exaggeration. (Pause.) It's just not NORMAL.
Coworker A: Whatever, like you would know what normal is.

Which segues into the latest topic du jour: Which person in the department is the most "normal." Somehow, I'm not even in the running, despite the fact that I'M not the one who just spent 15 minutes debating sandwich orders. Something about laughing too much ("not EVERYTHING is funny!" says Coworker B). Go figure.

I guess this is why they call me a yenta

2009-05-06T18:03:00.004-04:00

So I live in this neighborhood now, a really cute old neighborhood with great little side streets and interesting-looking houses. When it's nice out, I like to walk around for a half an hour or so as it's getting dark. I happened to mention this at work at the other day.

"So, I went for a walk last night and it was so cute, these old people were having a little dinner party with electric candles on the table. And, oh, my gosh, I saw the GREATEST bookshelf in this one living room ..."

Wait, wait, WAIT A SECOND, they said. You walk around and LOOK IN PEOPLE'S WINDOWS?

"I mean ... well, yeah. What else am I supposed to look at when I walk around the neighborhood?"

How about the SIDEWALK, they replied.

"But it's so interesting! I love seeing how different people's houses are decorated, and what they're doing ... they're like little snapshots of life."

You're crazy, they said.

"I am not. I'm CURIOUS. I'm a STUDENT OF LIFE."

You're a stalker, they said.

"Whatever. It's not like I stand there and stare. It's not like I go up there and press my nose up against the glass. Their windows just happen to be open and I just happen to glance over as I walk by. There's nothing wrong with being OBSERVANT."

Until you get slapped with a restraining order, they replied.

(I work with a bunch of rotten boys, have I mentioned that?)

I know it's probably just a nice way of saying I'm nosy, but I think people are SO interesting. Once I was in a career development seminar and they made everyone write down what they were most passionate about, and I wrote down that I am fascinated by people's stories. I love hearing them and telling them and even sometimes making them up.

The other day, I walked past this girl complaining to her friend: "It is total bullshit that she didn't invite me. I mean, give me a break, she KNOWS I have no friends. I go home every night and literally do nothing. Like Friday? Nothing. Saturday? Nothing. Nuhhhhhh ... THING."

And then overheard this conversation between two coworkers at a sandwich shop:

"Yeah, so Texas wants to be its own country."
"WHAT? What do you mean, its own country? Like not part of America?"
"Yeah, they'd break off or whatever. They're really big on that there."
She thinks about this. "So, like, what would they call it? The country of Texas?"
"I guess so."
"That is SO messed up."

I was walking home a few days ago when a couple tumbled out their front door with their dog. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were so close, they were kind of tripping over each other's feet. They couldn't stop touching. He'd touch her hair, she'd touch his waist. They were probably in their late 40s. I followed them down the block, trying to figure out their story. Did they meet on the playground in third grade and, four decades and two kids later, were still completely and totally crazy about each other? Or did they just find each other? Maybe one was divorced, maybe one was holding out for that big love, the love of her life, and they just felt so lucky to have found each other that they didn't want to let go.

I thought about it for a while and decided I hoped it was the second one, because I think there's something really beautiful about finding something giddy and unexpected once you've lived long enough to become a little cynical about such things. At any rate, I'm dying to find out. Maybe I can get the CIA guy to look into it ...

I heart Laura Dave

2009-04-30T13:17:00.003-04:00

Last summer, when I was trying to figure out what to do with my life and generally losing my mind, I started reading a book called London is the Best City in America by Laura Dave. I was sitting in a QDoba late one afternoon, reading that book, and burst into tears right there in the middle of my chicken nachos because it was just SO GOOD. It was the best kind of book, the kind where you want to read it as fast as you can but drag it out at the same time, so it won't end too soon.

Lucky for me, Laura's next book had just come out, so once I was done with London I promptly read that one too: The Divorce Party. My friend Allee and I have a little informal book club, where every time one of us reads a book we just love we make the other one read it RIGHT THAT SECOND so we can talk about it together. When Allee was in the middle of The Divorce Party, she said, "There are just so many great, true lines in there, I feel like I want to highlight half the book." I was like, I KNOW! Here are two of them from The Divorce Party (nothing that will give anything away, I promise!):

"She has learned, over time, that the way someone laughs often mirrors who they are. How they are."

(I liked this because I have one of those big laughs, those "I'm laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes" laughs. I hope instead of going, "Oh, my gosh, there she goes again" maybe people just think, "Wow, even though she can unleash a stream of expletives with the best of them when strange animals chew up her car, she sure does like life.")

and

"Love doesn't leave you. Not all at once. It creeps back in, making you think it can be another way, that it still can be another way, and you have to remind yourself of the reasons that it probably won't be."

So, so true.

The Divorce Party is out in paperback this week and is SUCH a perfect book to take on vacation. Here's the official book description:

On their 35th anniversary, Gwyn Huntington and her husband Thomas have invited friends and family to their Montauk home. Instead of celebrating their decades-long love, they are toasting their divorce. This also marks the weekend that their son brings home his fiancée, Maggie Mackenzie, for the first time. Maggie thought she was joining a perfect family, but she is about to reckon with some uncomfortable truths about the man she wants to marry.

A multi-generational story about what it means to share a life with someone, The Divorce Party brings us two immensely appealing women: Gwyn who is stumbling upon the end of her marriage, and Maggie, her future-daughter-in-law, who is trying to navigate the beginning of hers. With emotional candor and surprising humor, these two women find themselves trying to answer the same questions: Can you ever really know someone? When should you fight for the person you love most, and when should you begin to let him go?

Me again. I'm planning a vacation this summer full of nothing but beach and books. What other reading suggestions do you have? I'll pick one comment and send the winner a fun little package. Have a great day, everyone!

Things I don't understand

2009-04-20T23:23:00.005-04:00

* The guys at the gym who walk around with their arms out, like their muscles are sooo big they can't even put their arms down, even though they're like 150 pounds (MAYBE) dripping wet.

* How every night at 7 pm I feel like I'm ready to go to sleep for the night yet at midnight the only thing that would get me into bed is if you told me George Clooney was in it. I get a second wind at 9 or 10, and it's all over.

* How even very grown-up boys can act like 6-year-olds around a woman.

* Why anyone cares how many followers Ashton Kutcher has on Twitter.

* How no matter how good I manage to look when I walk out the door in the morning, I end up looking like a train wreck by 3 pm.

* How the guys on Dancing with the Stars can move their hips like that. It's like they have spaghetti noodles in there instead of bones! (P.S. A good thing.)

* Why it still practically feels like winter even though it's almost MAY. I DO NOT LIVE IN THE GREAT WHITE NORTH! I WANT 70-DEGREE DAYS! WHAT IS THE PROBLEM?

* Why I downloaded a Celine Dion song the other day of my own free will. And why I am not nearly as ashamed of that as I should be. (Except when I was playing it a smidgy bit too loudly at a stoplight next to a bunch of teenage boys. They looked at me, and I swear the look on their faces aged me about 30 years in 2.3 seconds. Then I was mildly ashamed. Mildly.)

You?

Animal house

2009-04-16T22:05:00.006-04:00

I have had two days off in the whole month of April so far, which means I am behind on like EVERYTHING. One of these things was getting my oil changed. The light had come on about 1,000 miles ago and I’m like, next week. OK, next week. OK, the week after.

Things have finally settled down a little, and I was off today. I had a $7 off coupon at Valvoline that was going to expire at the end of the month, so I was like, OK, TODAY. Today I will get my oil changed. So I drive down the street to the Valvoline and settle in the waiting room with my book. It’s my little car’s first oil change, so I’m thinking this is going to be the easiest, breeziest trip to Valvoline ever. “It’ll be like 15 minutes,” the guy tells me. Noooo problem.

Well, no sooner do I wave at the little girl in the waiting room, sit down and open my book does the guy come back in. “I need you to come look at something,” he says. In my head, I’m like, you’ve GOT to be kidding me. I KNOW I don’t need a new air filter, I KNOW I don’t need a fuel cleanse, just change the oil and let’s go already. But I get up and walk over, and as he’s holding the door for me, he shakes his head and goes, “I’m taking a picture of this.” And I’m thinking, Okaaaaaay, Mr. Over the Top, I know the economy’s bad and you need to make money but I’m not an idiot! The air filter can’t possibly look THAT bad!

So we go outside and there are like three people gathered around my car and HOLY FREAK FREAK FREAK. There is a NEST under the hood of my car. A FREAKING NEST. A nest put together BY AN ANIMAL under the HOOD OF MY CAR.

No one wants to touch it, no one even wants to get near it, because, I mean, HELLO! It’s a NEST THE SIZE OF MY FREAKING ENGINE!!! There could be a whole family of raccoons in there!

“Do you live in the woods?” they ask.

“I live RIGHT DOWN THE STREET!” I tell them. “AND I park in a garage!”

“When was the last time you popped the hood?” they ask.

Uh, like, NEVER, I think, but then I remember—I helped a woman jump her car in the Walmart parking lot like six weeks ago. A MONTH AND A HALF. In the last month and a half, some LIVING CREATURE has snuck into my garage, into my car, and built itself a little McMansion.

“What do you think it is?” I ask.

The guy thinks about it. “I’d say a rat,” he said, “except it has to be something pretty big to carry this much stuff in there.”

Ewwww. They send me back into the waiting room to freak out in there instead, but a couple of minutes later they call me back. “See that?” they say, pointing under the hood. “It’s been chewing on your wires. This thing’s a fire hazard. You better get it to the dealer, like, ASAP.”

I’m like, OK, now you’ve REALLY got to be kidding me. MY BRAND-NEW CAR has been gnawed to pieces from the inside by some crazed animal and could now blow up into a BALL OF FLAMES as I drive down the street. “Can I wait until next week?” I said. “No way,” they replied. “ASAP. Like today. It could catch on fire any second.”

SUPER!

So I leave and immediately drive back home to Google directions to the closest dealer, the whole way calling everyone I know so I can COMPLETELY SPAZ OUT over the phone.

Me, to my mom: You will LOSE YOUR SHIT when you see this picture. I am not even kidding.
Mom (slightly more concerned about the “shit” than she is about the fact that her daughter is driving around in Yellowstone National Park turned moving death trap): Well, I don’t know about THAT.
Me: TRUST ME.
Mom: (Pause.) You probably, like, chewed up its little babies when you started the car.
(This is the part where I shriek, a sound something like blaaaeeeechhhhhaaaaa, and throw the phone.)
Mom, after I retrieve the phone from under the seat: It’s funny, this thing you have with animals.
Me: OK, a) it’s not THAT funny and b) what are you talking about?
Mom: Remember the dead bird down the chimney?
Me: OK, SICK.

One of the guys from work is near my house and meets me there to talk me off my ledge. We find a dealer sort of by work, and he follows me over there to make sure my car doesn’t go up in flames. (Or more appropriately, I guess, so he can be the one to deliver a first-person account to Eyewitness News when I die.)

In the meantime, another friend from work, one I called to ask about dealers, has called me back. I tell him what’s going on and then hang up. A few minutes later, I get this text from him:

“Did you check the backseat to make sure the rat or possum is not in your car right now? I would if I were you. It may jump out and gnaw on your neck.”

Ha freaking ha.

We get to the dealer. Unfortunately, my warranty does not cover “Mother Nature.” Bright side, they can fix it while I wait. Two hours and $192.39 later, my car is almost as good as new. Both places tell me that to keep the animal away, I should hang mothballs in stockings around the edge of my hood. 15 minutes and 30 mothballs later, I smell like a 95-year-old woman’s closet.

But that’s not the end of the day, ohhhhhh no. While I was paying for my car, I dropped my phone. I picked it up. I dropped it again. I picked it up, and the screen was black. I turned it off, and then on again. No screen. I try calling it. No screen. I try charging it. No screen. I bite the bullet and go to the Verizon store on the way home. Good news, the guy says, I can replace your phone for free. Bad news, you lose everything on there, including every last phone number.

I am going to go hide under my blankets now so nothing else breaks. For, like, a week.

Scenes from the office

2009-03-31T05:40:00.003-04:00

Out of the blue, someone brings up our 5-7, 130-pound coworker.

Coworker 1: We should have a tossing contest with Bob.
Coworker 2 thinks about this. "Would you throw him by his hands or his feet?"
Coworker 1: Feet. Definitely. You could go in circles a few times first. You know, build some momentum.
Coworker 2: Or you could throw him like a javelin.
Me: We should have a department summer Olympics.
Coworker 1, his eyes lighting up: AND BOB COULD BE THE BALL IN EVERY EVENT!!! (Pause.) Sucks for him if we play kickball.

**********

Coworker A: So Swish. I have a question for you.
Me: What?
Coworker A: It's a pop culture question.
Me: OK, what.
Coworker A: If you had to take a bullet for either Brad or Angelina, and the other one was going to die, who would you choose?
Me: Angelina.
(I love that I don't question why he's asking or pretend I am above this kind of thing. No, I give him an immediate answer.)
Coworker A: Why Angelina?
Me, being noble: Because the children need their mother.
Coworker A: OK, but then you couldn't marry Brad.
Me: WAIT! I can marry Brad? I can be Shiloh's stepmom? I LOVE Shiloh!
Coworker A: No. Actually, you would die from the gunshot wound.
Me: What? WHAT? I have to DIE? I thought I was going to be a hero! No one takes the bullet out of my leg and nurses me back to health? Why did you say I could marry Brad, then? HUH?
He shrugs.
Me: You totally suck.

***********

Coworker 1 sketches a diagram of the Ivory Coast. Nobody can remember WHY he's doing this, possibly because everyone is hung up on the fact that his picture looks exactly like a part of the male anatomy.

Him: WHAT? That's what it looks like! You guys are perverts. I mean, seriously. Perverts. (He takes back the paper and starts writing again.) And right next to it--
Coworker 2: If you draw one more country, I'm calling HR.

***********

Coworker 1, getting ready to eat: I forgot a straw. Are there any straws over there?

Me: OH, MY GOSH! So in the latest issue of the InStyle, there is THE cutest idea ever. Wait, I'm not sure if it was InStyle, maybe it was Glamour or something instead. No, I'm pretty sure it was InStyle. The color issue with Salma Hayek. Anyway, so they had this thing in there that you could do with straws. You take a glass vase or jar or whatever and you fill it with multicolored straws and put it on your kitchen counter, you know, for a little pop of color. It is SO cute, especially for summer, and I mean, then you have straws there all the time to drink with fun summer drinks. FUN, huh? And totally cheap. I am totally doing it.

(Blank stares.)
(Silence.)
(More blank stares.)

Coworker 2 to the room at large: Does anyone know where that came from?

**********

I mention that I have to go to the grocery store after work.

Coworker A: I hate going to the grocery store.
Coworker B: Why?
Coworker A: That place is horrible. People, like, wear their pajamas there. When I first moved here, I was like, holy hell. I was looking for the gun section to kill myself. Where I come from, people get dressed to go to the damn supermarket. (Pause.) And the florescent lighting is even worse.

Later, during a staff meeting, one of my coworkers passes me a note.

"Can you get me some things at the store.
- 6 cases of Poland spring water
(24 pack of 1/2 liter bottles)
- 2 15-20 lb frozen turkeys
- 24 packages of Sudafed
Thanks"

Yes, it is pretty much this random all the time.

Life comes back

2009-03-25T05:34:00.001-04:00

I was at the bookstore today, looking at the cards, when I saw this one:

I don't feel like I've been massively depressed over the past six months or anything, but I DO feel like I've been in a little bit of a fog that I'm just now starting to shake off. I was standing in my bedroom today and I thought about the day I moved in, and I was like, wait ... Christmas has happened since then? January? February? Almost the whole month of March? Where was I when all that happened? I've done well at work and been present and all of that, but the rest of it is a little bit of a haze. I liked this card because it's like, no matter how crazy or sad or uncertain or challenging something is, life always comes back eventually and helps us feel normal and hopeful again.

I moved halfway across the country by myself once before--well, twice, I guess, if you count college--and this one has been easier in some ways and a little bit harder in other ways. Overall, I think it has gone OK, and the even better news is that I am starting to feel life coming back, like myself again. It's not all at once--I sometimes feel like I'm standing on one of those half-exercise balls, getting on, wobbling, falling off, getting back up, wobbling around some more--but I am getting there.

Some updates:

- My apartment. It's almost the way I want it. I wanted to scale back a little and not have things laying around that I never use, so I moved a bunch of stuff down to the basement storage (you know I can't TOTALLY get rid of it!). My favorite is the little dining area--I call it my nook. My friend teases me about it, he says there is nothing nook-like about it, it's just a regular dining area, but to me, it's my nook, and I adore it. It's the one place where I can sit and see the rest of the apartment, and I sit at the table by the window and listen to my music and work.

- My neighborhood. It is adorable, even more so when it is not buried under a foot of snow (funny how that works, huh?). I love the buildings and all the trees and the cute little shops. One of the guys at work told me about this pizza place right by me that is PHENOMENAL, so freaking good. Too good, probably, a thought that occurred to me as I sat there eating a slice or three in front of The Biggest Loser of all shows. (By the way, speaking of Biggest Loser, OH, MY GOSH, that Mike, he is cuter and sweeter than a whole basket full of puppies and babies. I LOVE that kid.)

- Coffee shop situation. I still miss my old place something crazy. I've been back to the birthday place once since then, and it was good, but I'm not totally, totally positive about it yet. I will probably go back sometime this week ... cross your fingers!

- Work. My schedule has been insane, which has not really helped in the adjustment department, but everyone has been SUPER nice, which HAS helped. I've fit in and gotten comfortable a lot faster than I expected, which has been a nice bonus. (I even pitched my first big fit a couple of weeks ago ... I really AM getting settled in! HA.)

- Working out. I have been horrible about working out and, consequently, my back feels like it belongs to a 90-year-old, so this week I am determined to be better. I've gone to the gym the last two days, which pretty much sets a 2009 record, sooo ... so far, so good.

- The boys. They are ridiculous. But that is a whole nother blog post.

- Book club. I've gone twice to the one book club. There are about a dozen girls in it, all around my age, all very nice. I'm not really sure how to be friends with any of them outside of the group, but for now it's nice to go out to dinner with a bunch of girls once a month and talk about a book and, oh yeah, Brad and Angelina and the crazy spinning instructor they know who has bedded half the women in his class and other fun things like that. There is another book club, but I sort of think it might fizzle out--everyone is just way, way (did I mention WAY?) too different. Awkwardly so.

- Completely off topic and unrelated to anything: I bought the cutest green trench coat today. I think we are in love.

That's about it for me! What's new with you?

Two quick things

2009-03-18T04:53:00.003-04:00

Hey. I know I haven't posted in forever, and I know you've heard this a million times since I moved, but I'm FINALLY starting to feel settled (I think daylight savings is helping in that department ... hello sunshine!) so I promise I will be back to sort-of normal in the posting department very soon. In the meantime, two quick things that couldn't possibly be more unrelated if I tried:

Frivolous thing: It's March Madness time again! Which means it's time to enter Swishy's Bracket Challenge! I know it's late-ish notice, but get your picks in by Thursday morning and you just might win yourself a $10 Amazon.com gift certificate. We're doing it on Yahoo again this year--go here and enter the group number (173053) and password (swishy) to join. Email me if you have any questions or problems logging in.

Serious thing: Golightly and I have read each other's blogs for ... gosh, at least a couple of years now. She is smart and sassy and funny, and I just adore her. She got into a very serious car accident with her fiance over the weekend and isn't doing too great, and I just want to ask all of you to keep her in your thoughts. I'm very worried about her, but she's a fighter and I'm hopeful that with lots of prayers and good doctors looking after her, she'll be back to her fun, vibrant self in no time.

I am so grateful for all of you. You are such good and wonderful people, and I am so happy to be a tiny part of your lives. I hope wherever you are today, whatever you're doing, that you're happy and around people who love you and appreciate who you are. Thank you so much for all that you do for me. You're all awesome, and I hope you're having an awesome day.

Birthday girl

2009-03-09T23:59:00.006-04:00

That would be me, for just a tiny bit longer :)

I was stressing out a little bit about this birthday, not because I'm getting older or anything, but because I love birthdays and this one was kind of a big one and I'm in a new city away from most of my friends and it seemed like every time I tried to make plans, they fell through. I didn't really care what I did, I just wanted to have a good day. The past year has been so crazy and hard that I felt like if I had a good day, it would sort of symbolize more good days ahead, get things off on the right foot for the next year or something. I know that's sort of silly and neurotic and a lot of pressure to put on one day, but that's how I felt.

Would you believe it, I got one. More than one, even!

I spent the weekend in New York City and had a great time. I grew up not too, too far from the city, so I hate looking like a tourist when I'm there. But this time, I was like, screw it, I'm going to act like a tourist (much to the mortification of my brother) and it was SO fun. I walked around Times Square, ate Magnolia cupcakes and yes, oh, yes, I even went to the top of the Empire State Building, something I'd always wanted to do but had never done. You guys, I was so giddy about that, it was ridiculous. I LOVE Sleepless in Seattle. LOVE LOVE LOVE it. And, of course, you know me, once I got up there I started running around offering to take people's pictures and asking the security guys how many times they'd seen it and if they loved the movie as much as I did (I did mention how mortified my brother was, right?).

(Pretty! I know it's cheesy, but if someone proposed to me at midnight at the top of the Empire State Building, I would probably say yes just on principle.)

Today was my actual birthday, and everyone was just so nice to me. As you (and everyone else on the planet) all know, I have absolutely hated not having a coffee shop here. So the guys at work got together and decided to take me to lunch at this very cute place near where I live, a place I'd gone past but was a little intimidated by (it's a coffee shop, but it has waiters ... so CONFUSING!). It was great, and I don't want to get too carried away, buuuuut ... I think I might have a new coffee shop! I came home to a bunch of fantastic, thoughtful presents in the mail, including a brand-new friendship muse from my Manic, and tonight, another guy from work made me dinner and even sat through Dancing with the Stars with me. Not to mention, every time I went online, there were like five new happy birthday messages (thank you, Facebook!) and the phone was going like crazy all day.

My old friends didn't forget me and my new friends were so sweet to me even though they've only known me a couple months. It was a very, very good birthday. And, fingers crossed, the next year will be very, very good, too.

Calling all haters

2009-03-03T23:54:00.003-05:00

OK, I do not consider a spoiler alert to be necessary here because I swear every website on the planet is buzzing about this right now, but OH, MY GOSH, THE BACHELOR!!! I knew every last detail of what was supposed to happen on that finale because I couldn't resist (read: was obsessed with) the spoilers and I STILL was like, holy crap, I hope Melissa slams her stiletto squarely in his groin right now for doing that to her on national TV.

One of my very favorite things in the world to do is read Television Without Pity when something like this happens. Hell hath no fury like women who see another woman scorned on television and then go on message boards to comment on it:

"This guy is a sociopath."
"Jason now has the well-deserved title as "Worst Bachelor"/World's Biggest Asshole."
"He shouldn't be allowed to raise geraniums, let alone a child, after what he put that poor girl Melissa through."
"Jason, you are an emotional juvenile who has no business proposing to anybody until you grow up."
"He is a tiny little weak-willed man who cannot possibly risk being overshadowed by the woman he is with."
"It won't be long before Jason is found in an empty bathtub, curled up in the fetal position, crying. This guy has problems."

I have been laughing all day, and I do mean all day. Someone called him the most hated man on TV, and I remembered this post I read on EW.com a few months ago: TV Characters You Irrationally Hate (which quickly expanded to "TV characters you RATIONALLY hate"). So, in honor of the Fakest Nice Guy in Bachelor history, a few TV characters I could never stand:

Phoebe, Friends. I never got the point. How long was that show on, like 10 years? I don't think I ever ONCE laughed at something she said.

Andie, Dawson's Creek. Ughhh, she drove me crazy. She was such a little snotty know-it-all and I did NOT get what Pacey ever saw in her. She also wore the most ridiculous makeup. There is this great scene, this PHENOMENAL scene, where Pacey and Joey are dancing and he fingers this bracelet she's wearing, and he remembers all about where she got it, and she's like how do you remember that, and he leans into her hair and whispers, "I remember everything." And the whole thing is almost ruined by the camera panning over to dumb Andie with her dumb makeup--there are literally wide, white circles around her eyes. She looks like a little kid who did her "makeup" with sidewalk chalk. I was like, ugh, Andie, you are SO DONE.

Rita, Dexter. It's the voice. I cannot STAND her voice, all breathy and whiny and "I'm a victim"-y. Like, ALL RIGHT. You're a delicate flower who's been wounded by your own horrific taste in men. PLEASE STOP TALKING LIKE A 6-YEAR-OLD NOW.

Basically any recurring guest star on Grey's Anatomy. Ava and Denny, I'm looking at you. I couldn't even look at Ava and Denny made my skin crawl every time he came on screen. Shonda Rhimes had a complete, massive 12-year-old middle-school crush on him, and I was like, what planet does she live on? Planet Lech and Leer? He COMPLETELY skeeves me out. (I'm not even counting this season of dead ghost sex with Izzy. I have all the episodes on the DVR but I haven't mustered up the will to watch them yet.)

Lynne, The Real Housewives of Orange County. Total doormat and blander than a saltine cracker. I do feel bad for her when the other girls make fun of her, though, because she's so clueless.

Audrina, The Hills. Speaking of clueless. The very first time I saw her, I was like, holy crap, there is NOTHING THERE. Literally, you look at her eyes, and it's like trying to stare at the bottom of a dark well. There's NOTHING. Every time she talks, all I hear is: "Blah blah, Justin Bobby, blah blah, like, blah blah, totally, blah blah, Lo's mean, blah blah, I can't decide what dress to wear." I totally have to fast-forward every time I see her.

What about you? Which TV characters/personalities do you love to hate?

Pampered princess

2009-02-26T03:17:00.001-05:00

So I had a ROYALLY shitty week last week. (Don't worry, I'm fine now, it was just a no good, very, very, very bad week that made me hate practically everyone. But not now! Now I am overflowing with love and goodwill for all of mankind. I'm just telling you for context.)

Anyway. So: bad week. I was like, the next chance I get, I am having an ALL ABOUT SWISHY night so I don't a) end up sticking my head in the oven (which is electric anyway) or b) running over the poor little old lady downstairs in a fit of blind rage. So I ...

* Bought myself some tulips so I would have something pretty in the house that reminds me that spring is coming one of these (long, crappy, cold) days:

* Worked out for like the first time ever and read the new People AND Entertainment Weekly

* Had an at-home spa night in which I soaked, exfoliated, plucked, baby-oiled, Vaselined and lotioned my poor, sad, tired little body

* Baked delicious chocolate peanut butter cookies and ate like half of them in front of The Real Housewives of Orange County reunion AND the new episode of Real Housewives of NYC. Mmmm ... chocolatey bitchiness!

* Wasted a ridiculous amount of time reading Television Without Pity (big Bachelor scandal!) while listening to awesome music, which is like one of my favorite Zen-out things to do ever.

I am also trying to sort of enjoy the little things, which is kind of fun when I am in the mood for it. The other night, I was driving home from work when I went, oh, crap, I need to drop off a couple things at the post office. It was late, and it was raining, and I left the car running in the middle of the road while I ran over to the mailbox. And then I ran back and just ... stopped. There wasn't another soul around, and one of my favorite songs was playing in the car, and all of the light from the streetlamps was bouncing off the wet road. It was such a nice little moment. I stood in the middle of the road in the rain, listening to my song, thinking to myself, I can't believe how PRETTY it all is (and fortunately no one came along to run ME over).

So what's your favorite thing to do when you want to pamper yourself?

Gossip Girl (Oscar edition)

2009-02-23T06:22:00.002-05:00

Well, hello there! I have been working like a crazy lady lately, which is why I didn't do a live blog for the Oscars--I was at work. I DID, however, get to watch the red carpet on a live feed, and OH, MY GOSH, BEST THING EVER!!! It's like looking through your neighbor's window with binoculars (not that, uh, anyone we know would ever do that) only a million zillion times better. (Unless, of course, your neighbors are Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and they're having a dinner party with Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer while George Clooney babysits the kids in the next room. Maybe then.)

Anyway, the first thing I realized is that no one is interviewed live for the pre-Oscar red carpet. (Hello, illusions shattered!) The other deal with the live feed is that there's no lighting, so you see everyone exactly as they are in real life. WHICH IS AWESOME.

A few little tidbits:

- Tim Gunn walked around looking confused a LOT.

- Amy Adams looked great on the actual show but her makeup was really harsh without the lighting.

- Taraji Henson was just as happy as can be and spent a lot of time talking to the kids from Slumdog Millionaire. Her dress looked really heavy--she needed like three people to lift it up so she could step onto the platform to be interviewed.

- Mickey Rourke was carrying around a cigarette the whole time. He looked surprisingly better than I thought he would, though. I mean, not GOOD, but you know. Not as bad as I thought.

- Anne Hathaway is very freckly on her arms and back. I guess it makes sense that she would burn and freckle, since she's so fair, but her skin always looks so porcelain-y with the lighting.

- Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick had to tape their interview like three times. Matthew looked completely bored. Sarah Jessica kept trying to smile at him and he was NOT having it.

- Brad and Angelina looked INCREDIBLE. They really did look the best. They were very nice and friendly to everyone (although Angelina looked a little like "WTF?" when Tim Gunn grabbed her wrist as she walked by). The BEST, though, was Brad totally almost walking into one of those golden Oscar statues on the red carpet. HA HA HA. He did this exaggerated double take, like, whoa, and Angelina laughed.

I'm cruising through the actual show on DVR now. Did you watch it? Did you like Hugh Jackman? Did you like the whole "five presenter" thing for the acting awards? Who looked the best? Who looked the worst? And can you believe the director cut to Brangelina while Jennifer was presenting? ME NEITHER!

Happy days

2009-02-17T03:33:00.002-05:00

How was everyone's weekend? Good? Mine was fabulous, thank you for asking. I went on a little getaway to my friend Allee's house and had merely the most perfect and relaxing girl weekend ever. In just over 48 hours, I managed to: go out to dinner, get my hair cut by my old stylist (I say "old" like there's a new one. HA), sleep in, have breakfast at my favorite little coffee shop, get a pedicure, eat chips and guacamole under a comfy blanket while watching Love Actually, see the new Shopaholic movie (nothing like the books, FYI) and have a good old-fashioned "sit around and eat ice cream and gossip with the girls till all hours of the night" session. About the only thing missing was 80-degree weather and a hot, young pool boy to leer at inappropriately. It was just perfect.

I have been a big bundle of anxiety lately. If it's not one thing to be stressed out about, it's another, I swear, and I keep breaking my cardinal rule of not worrying about things that are out of my control. The funny thing is, there's not THAT much to be stressed out about. Yes, winter sucks and settling into a new place sucks, but I have so many things going for me, and it frustrates me that I can't just relax and enjoy them more. It's almost like I can't let myself NOT worry sometimes. This weekend was a good reminder for me that sometimes I just need to take a deep breath and CHILL OUT.

I also think part of the problem is I haven't been doing a lot of the things I like (work out, write, stalk random people at the coffee shop) lately. Would you believe that I went four straight days without turning on my TV last week? FOUR STRAIGHT DAYS. That is UNNATURAL. I am putting an end to that right this second.

Seriously. The Bachelor, Amazing Race, last week's Lost or the zillions of 24 episodes I haven't gotten to yet? Decisions, decisions ...

He's just not that into you

2009-02-11T04:27:00.006-05:00

(No spoilery-ish details about the movie, I promise!)

OK. So. I've become a little bit of a "He's just not that into you" expert the past couple of years. I saw the episode of Sex and the City and I read the book and I watched Greg Behrendt's appearances on Oprah and I even read the kinda-sequel "It's Called a Break-up Because it's Broken." The whole thing has been kind of a hot topic at work lately. Every time the commercial for the movie came on at work, we'd start talking about it.

We talked about the phone call thing ...

Guy: So the whole premise is that if a guy doesn't call a girl, then he doesn't like her?
Me: Not the WHOLE premise. Part of the premise. If a guy likes you, he'll call you.
Guy: Why can't the girl call the guy?
Me: Why can't the GUY call the GIRL? Are his fingers broken?
Guy: Because it's 2009. You're, like, liberated now.
Me: And you're, like, LAZY. JUST PICK UP THE PHONE AND CALL.

And the excuses ...

Me: Girls are always making excuses for guys, like he's going through a really stressful time, or he just got out of a relationship, or he's really busy at work ...
Guy: What if he IS busy at work?
Me: Too busy to send a quick email to say, hey, what's up? Too busy to send a TEXT? You can send a text in two seconds! You can even auto-complete words in a text! Anyone can send a text! You can text while you're in a meeting! You can text while you're peeing! You can--
Guy: Seriously? You want a guy texting you while he's peeing?
Me: You KNOW what I mean.

Once, in a moment of extreme boldness, feeling very brazen and empowered by the whole idea, I had the following conversation with someone about what I defined as mixed signals from him:

Me: What is your DEAL?
Him: I don't know. I'm crazy.
Me: You ARE crazy. You wanna know why you're crazy?
(His face said no but his lips said OK, tell me why.)
Me: Because I am SUPER AWESOME and you don't realize it.
Him: I mean ... I think I kind of do ... don't I?
Me: NO!

(I really did say that. Ha. Thank you, Greg Behrendt.)

Anyway, I think the whole concept is pretty true. It's most helpful, I think, in those "no man's land" situations, where they're KIND OF into you--into you enough that you think there's something there to hang on to--but not TOTALLY into you. In instances where they want a backup, or they want to keep their options open, or they kind of want out but they don't want to be the bad guy. I said that at work, and immediately they shot back with: Oh, yeah? What if a guy is shy? What if he's not that experienced in relationships? What if he's nervous? What if he's worried he'll get shot down? What about THAT?

I mean ... I DON'T KNOW! I didn't write the book! GENERALLY, I still think it's true, although of course there are exceptions. (The movie talks a lot about that, too, how girls always think they'll be the exception to the rule. I went to see it with a guy from work, and he texted me after: "Swish. If I don't call you after work tonight, are you going to realize that's the norm and not the exception?" Ha ha.) I do, though, like the reminder that every woman deserves to have a guy who is TOTALLY into her--there is absolutely no reason to settle for "kind of" when the possibility of "totally" is out there. And when that happens you know it--you don't have to guess or wonder or make any excuses.

So what do you think?

All about me

2009-02-07T05:19:00.003-05:00

Golightly just tagged me, and it couldn't have come at a better time because I am boring and cranky and completely uninteresting lately. So without further ado ...

Make a list of things you can see without getting up:
TV, lots of pillows, lamp, rug, cell phone, the clothes I've worn to work the past three days thrown over a chair (I'm bad)

What were you like when you were five?
Chatty and trying to be 25. I also read like crazy. And spied on the neighbors a lot. I guess not much has changed!

What are you wearing now?
A blue T-shirt that says "New Jersey: The Almost Heaven State" and black yoga pants

What story/book/novel have you read over and over again in your life?
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

What’s the last thing you read/are currently reading?
One Fifth Avenue by Candace Bushnell

Do you nap a lot?
Very rarely these days. I love naps, though.

Who was the last person you hugged?
My friend Jeff

What’s your current fandom/obsession/addiction?
I told someone today the highlight of my week right now is my Monday night date night with The Bachelor. I get something good to eat, take a bubble bath and then watch The Bachelor under a flannel blanket while I eat dessert, and it's the best thing ever. I'm also on Facebook a lot more lately. Also Vaseline.

What was the last thing you ate today?
Frozen Hostess 100-calorie strawberry cupcakes.

What websites do you always visit when you go online?
AOL, Gawker, People.com, my blog, USA Today's Entertainment blog, Facebook

What was the last thing you bought?
Dinner at work--chicken crepes with rice.

What are you listening to right now?
VH1's top 20 countdown (All-American Rejects are on right now)

What movie are (or were!) you most excited to show your kids?
A Christmas Story

If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
Reading minds

What is your favorite weather, and why?
Spring or fall weather--75 degrees and sunny. I feel like anything is possible on days like that.

What time do you usually get up?
I have a crazy schedule right now, so it's all across the board.

What is your most challenging goal right now?
Feeling settled and getting into a routine. Making friends outside of work and keeping up with friends who aren't here. Basically life.

Say something to the person who tagged you: Golightly is so sassy and stylish and fun. I've read her blog from the break-up script days (easily one of my favorite blog posts by any person ever) to now, her newly engaged days! I just know she will have a beautiful wedding and life with her Cowboy.

If you could have a house–totally paid for, fully furnished–anywhere in the world, where would you want it to be?
Anywhere on a beach.

Favorite vacation spot?
The beach.

What is your favorite children’s book?
Nancy Drew and Anne of Green Gables

Name one thing you just can’t resist no matter how bad it is for you:
French fries and anything with Oreos

If you could meet anyone famous - dead or alive - who would it be?
Brangelina! Maybe Oprah. Maybe George Clooney or Tom Cruise.

What's your favorite love song?
Love Me Still, Chaka Khan

I tag anyone who would like to participate! You copy the questions, answer them, remove a question you don't like and replace it with one you create.

My created question (feel free to answer in the comments): If your life could be like a character's in a TV show, whose would it be and why?

Things I would miss if I ever worked at home

2009-01-28T16:11:00.000-05:00

Coworker A, on Tom Brady: They should just freeze his seed and put him out of his misery.

**********

Coworker A on Mona from Who's the Boss: She and Blanche are the biggest whores in '80s TV. '90s TV is so much better. Valerie Malone? SMOKING HOT. Steve Sanders wasn't too bad, either. (Pause.) They're no Andrea Zuckerman. Oh, my gosh, she was like 50 trying to play a 19-year-old.

**********

Me: So speaking of cougars ...
Coworker A: Oh, brother.
Me: How old would you go?
Coworker A: I told my grandparents to hook me up with one of their friends, preferably someone close to death.
Me: Nice. (Pause.) So how young, then?
Coworker A: In this country or another country?

(A few minutes later.)

Me: So seriously. How young?
Coworker B: The rule is half your age plus seven.
Me: The RULE? What are you talking about, the rule? There's a rule?
Coworker B: Of course there's a rule. Half your age plus seven.
Me: So wait ... so, OK. Thirty minus 15 plus 7 ...
Coworker B: 22. Although I could probably squeak by with 21.
Me: You've got to be kidding.
Coworker C: He's right. It's the rule.

**********

Coworker: Britney Spears is probably the most talented person with no talent out there.
Me: The most talented ... what?
Coworker: You heard me. Even when she's a mess she's got a No. 1 song. Everyone should just leave her alone. (Pause.) Free Britney.

**********

Coworker 1: Do you remember Unsolved Mysteries?
Me: I LOVED that show!
Coworker 1: Did you ever see the one with Matthew McConaughey? He was like, mowing his lawn, and there was this pervert sitting in his car watching little kids, and then the kids left and he got out of his car with his pants down and Matthew McConaughey was like, DUDE, what are you doing, and then the guy takes out a rifle and just, like, SHOOTS him in the chest.
Me: Shut UP!
Coworker 1: Yeah. It's probably on YouTube. How embarrassing that he was on Unsolved Mysteries.
Coworker 2: Why is that embarrassing?
Coworker 1: I don't know. I just don't think anyone else famous has come out of Unsolved Mysteries.
Coworker 2: I don't think that's embarrassing. You have to start somewhere. It's not like it was like last week.

(A few minutes of Google searching later.)

Coworker 1: I can't believe it's not on YouTube.
Coworker 2: It IS on this special Unsolved Mysteries DVD, though.

I'd be careful stepping off that curb if I were you

2009-01-25T13:27:00.004-05:00

So. I'm driving along, and there's a car on the side of the road. The driver sits in the car and waits while the other person in the car, a man, gets out ... and STARTS PEEING ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD!

We were not on the highway. There was an open Walmart 100 feet away. A gas station 10 feet away. A McDonald's a quarter mile one way down the road, a Wendy's the other way, a million other things in between. Most normal people would walk into any one of those places and take advantage of one of the wonderful conveniences of modern society by peeing into a free public toilet. Not this guy. This guy would rather pee on the side of the road in 7-DEGREE WEATHER, which brings me to my next, most important point: I don't even like my EARS to be exposed when it's that cold. My fingers feel like they're going to fall off after about 3 seconds. You REALLY want that out and about, waving at passing cars, in below-zero wind chills? REALLY?

Some things I will never understand.

Girlie stuff

2009-01-22T05:21:00.003-05:00

OK, so a couple of weeks ago I was reading stuff online and I found this story revealing the No. 1 beauty product British women can't live without. If I'd tried to guess what it was, I would have said Maybelline Great Lash mascara because everyone seems to love it (although, personally, I don't get it at ALL). But no, it wasn't mascara. It wasn't concealer or powder or even Chapstick. It was VASELINE. Vaseline!

So of course I had to scroll down and read all the comments, because I was like, what on earth are all these women using Vaseline for? I knew the foot trick (slather your feet in Vaseline, wrap them in plastic wrap, put on a pair of socks and sleep that way) and the lip trick (although I've always done it with Carmex), but apparently people use Vaseline on their face! And under their eyes! To take off makeup! To ward off wrinkles! To make their eyelashes longer! (Seriously, I went to makeupalley.com too, and people really swear it does that.) It turns out Tyra Banks is a massive Vaseline devotee--she even gave it away on her show (and looked crazy doing it, but whatever). I am WAY too scared to use it all over my face (although the stories of women who used it their whole lives and died without a single wrinkle tempt me more than you know) but I think I might test it out on the sides of my eyes to try to scare away crow's feet.

I am a COMPLETE sucker for this kind of stuff. I'm not, like, super high-maintenance or anything (I went to work three days in a row last week without washing my hair, how high-maintenance can I be?) but I still just LOVE it. I love the little tricks and cheap, fun things you can do and all of it. So, in honor of Miss Tyra's Vaseline, here are some of my "Vaselines", the fun, cheap little beauty products in my closet:

* Baby shampoo. I wash my hair with it every once in a while because it acts like a clarifying shampoo (getting rid of product buildup) but it's also obviously super gentle so it won't mess with hair color. I use it to hand wash my bras, too, and no, I am totally not kidding. It works like a charm. Plus it smells sooo good!

* Baby oil. Nothing in the world gets eye makeup off like a little bit of baby oil on a cotton ball. I also dump it on after I take a bath and it makes my skin super, duper soft.

* Baby powder. I pour some in my palm, rub my hands together, then lean over and put it on the roots of my hair when I don't feel like washing it. It soaks up all the oil and gives the hair a little lift. (Important note: It helps that I'm blonde. I wouldn't try it on dark hair unless you want to look like the dandruff fairy visited you in your sleep.)

* Hair gel. But I don't use it in my hair, ohhh, no. I put the teeniest, tiniest bit on my finger and swipe it across my eyebrows. I don't have crazy, crazy eyebrows, but it just makes them look better.

* Aspirin. Crush it up, mix it with a little water and put it on a zit until it dries. The pimple won't totally disappear, but it'll get smaller and go away faster. You can also mix up some aspirin with Cetaphil or aloe vera gel and make an exfoliating mask for your face.

* Lip/eye liner. I totally cheat sometimes by lining my lip and then putting clear gloss or Carmex over it instead of lipstick (Wet and Wild liner No. 666 is awesome for this, and it's 99 freaking cents). I'll also sometimes use an eyeliner over my whole eye instead of eyeshadow--it takes like two seconds and you can't really mess it up. (Just dust it with powder so it doesn't rub off.)

What about you? (And DO you use Vaseline? What do you think? I am BEYOND fascinated by that!)

Yay yay I'm so excited yayyyy

2009-01-11T18:16:00.029-05:00

That is basically the dialogue in my head right now. Why? Because I LOVE THE GOLDEN GLOBES SO VERY MUCH. I want to marry them and live happily ever after with golden babies on a golden island. I LOVE the Golden Globes. Let me count the ways:

1. They are TV and movies.
2. There are no filler awards.
3. They're SO MUCH more progressive about good TV shows than the Emmys are.
4. People are allowed to drink, so it's either a partayyyy or a trainwreck waiting to happen. (In other words: win-win!)

I could go on and on. Last year was the press conference/writer's strike nightmare (which I spent in the Las Vegas airport anyway), and the year before was my own personal power outage nightmare. This year, my friends, the Globes are BACK, and so am I. Let the live blog begin!

*****

6:26: Jenna Fischer is a cute girl, but she looks like she's wearing the slipcover from her mom's couch. Floral prints are NEVER a good idea for awards shows, Pam!

6:32: E! just spelled Rumer Willis' name wrong. Ha ha. My friend: "Well, it's a stupid name anyway."

6:52: Ryan Seacrest just did a little scream for the Jonas Brothers. Ohhhhh, boy, it's gonna be a good night.

6:59: Debra Messing looks gorgeous as always. She is, like, TOWERING over poor little Ryan. They are talking about dating advice for women. Hers: Have courage. His: Just say yes. Ha. On both.

7:16: Ummmm ... Giuliana's not wearing her wedding ring AND I just read a blind item about a female cable personality who's having an affair with an executive. Someone's gonna start a rumor and that someone is meeeee ...

7:18: I think maybe David Duchovny forgot he's getting divorced.

7:21: Wow, I mean, WOW. Drew Barrymore's hair! She looks a little bit like she did in Never Been Kissed. The before version.

7:23: Ooh, shaky couple alert! J.Lo and Marc Anthony!

7:32: I just switched over to NBC for a minute. Brooke Burke and Tiki Barber are doing the red carpet. ARE. YOU. FREAKING. KIDDING ME. Seacrest, if you take me back, I promise I'll never leave you again!

7:34: OK, so I switched back to E! and the program guide says Ryan Seacrest and Giuliana DEPANDI. She changed her name to RANCIC when she got married. Oversight or INTENTIONAL CHANGE? The conspiracy theory continues ...

7:39: Holy crap, Marisa Tomei is a pirate.

7:41: Brad and Angelina! Brad and Angelina! I am pretty giddy about the both of them being nominated, I'm not gonna lie. They dissed poor Ryan, though.

8:02: Kate Winslet is just the loveliest woman. (And I am NOT saying that because I am officially 1-for-1 in my picks. Although ...)

8:36: Ricky Gervais, you are a funny, funny man.

8:40: Aww snap, check out Miley Cyrus refusing to look up when Nick Jonas walked out on stage! (We're going to pretend I didn't just say something to give away that I know anything about Miley Cyrus' love life. Just like we're going to pretend that I didn't start singing along with one of her songs in the car the other day.)

9:37: I've been chatting and slacking! But Tracy Morgan, ohhhh, man. Ha ha ha ha. Yes, that is the face of post-racial America.

9:45: Finally! An Angelina shot! All night, I've been like, WHY do they keep cutting to Brad and not Angelina? Is she in the bathroom? Picking something out of her teeth? Holding up a sign that says "Suck it Jen!"? WHAT?

9:58: OK, it's the Spielberg thing, which means we have time for a little best dressed/worst dressed. Looking good: Laura Linney, Tina Fey, Kate Winslet, newly hot Tom Cruise, Rita Wilson's hair (I can't see the rest of her). Looking bad: Renee Zellweger (I mean, beyond horrible), Robert Downey, the too-skinny girl who won for Happy-go-Lucky. Looking like drunk former sorority girls-turned-cougars: Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz.

10:25: Sandra Bullock is cute. And, according to my friend, Colin Farrell is on coke whether he admits it or not.

10:40: I love that Kate Winslet hugged Leonardo DiCaprio before she hugged her husband, WHO ALSO DIRECTED THE MOVIE. Ha! I have to say, I can't really blame the girl.

10:43: She really, really loves Leo. I mean, REALLY. And she has for 13 years. Hmm.

11:03: Mickey Rourke, Slumdog Millionaire ... time for the aftershow on E!

Gold standard

2009-01-05T23:59:00.006-05:00

First things first: Congratulations to Cheryl, Vanessa and Elle Charlie, winners of a totally badass TRL soundtrack and a few other goodies. Send me your address and I'll get 'em out to you. (And if you didn't win but truly, TRULY have a burning desire to own a totally badass TRL soundtrack, email me and we'll see what we can do.)

OK. So. I have a little bit longer commute to work now. I work some crazy hours and I can't always call people to kill time while I'm driving, so I've started listening to talk radio on the way home. But not just any talk radio, ohhhhh, no. The kind of talk radio where they talk about relationships and cute boys and the field day that Joel McHale will have on The Soup with this season of The Bachelor. (OK, not really on that last one, but did anyone see tonight's episode? Ohhh, my. I think Jason is just adorable but THOSE GIRLS! Cringeworthy. Completely. And DEANNA! NO, SHE DOES NOT!)

I'm getting sidetracked. So! Last week on one of the shows, they were talking about whether Brad Pitt was still considered the "gold standard" for men. He's getting kind of old, said the one guy host. No way, said the girl. There doesn't seem to be a lot going on upstairs with him, the guy said. Whatever, the girl said, he does humanitarian work. Only because Angelina makes him, said the guy. Please, said the girl, maybe he just realized that there was more to life than sitting around watching Jennifer Aniston smoke pot. And around they went.

So then people started calling in with their picks. One person said Christian Bale. (I was like, seriously? The gold standard for ALL MEN? I'm sorry. No.) Another caller said Johnny Depp. (A little warmer. He can look incredibly hot sometimes, but he's so ... I don't know. Just so JOHNNY DEPP. Someone who's above it all can't be the gold standard.)

My old gold standard used to be Tom Cruise. I loved him to absolute tiny little pieces until he hooked up with Joey Potter. He's jumped on too many couches and yelled at Matt Lauer too many times to be the gold standard anymore, but holy Maverick in a fighter jet, have you seen him on the cover of Details this month? I almost got whiplash doing a double-take in the airport. It's like vintage Tom Cruise.

You can be my wingman anytime. Sigh.

OK, so gold standard. You know how I love my Brangelina, but I don't know about Brad. The gold standard has to be someone that almost everyone can agree on--someone gorgeous, someone charismatic, someone charming, someone larger than life but accessible at the same time. Someone like ... George Clooney? I'm thinking Clooney. Bonus: The man will be single forever, so we all still have a shot. (Right?)

Who's your pick? And what about the gold standard for women?

(***Update at 5:47 a.m. because I am a total freaking insomniac: If this is true, FORGET about Clooney. The kind of gold standard that turns your finger green, maybe. Brad Pitt would NEVER. Hell, CHARLIE SHEEN would never. Gross. Just gross.)

Guess who's back, back again

2009-01-03T04:24:00.002-05:00

Swishy's back! Tell a friend!

OK, so for REAL, I am back. I told you--new year, new devotion to blogging, that's what I'm all about. This was my living room yesterday:

This was my living room a few hours ago:

MUCH better, MUCH more manageable, which means MUCH more time for other, MUCH more fun things. Yay! (I also, by the way, braved the DMV ... IN THE SNOW ... BEFORE WORK ... which took a huge weight off and all-around made me feel like a freaking rock star.)

So ... New Year's. You know what I said this time last year? I'll tell you. I said, "I don't want to be one of those people who always talks about doing things and never does them. So I guess in 2008, I want to be more of a doer. More proactive instead of reactive."

Ha. Ha ha ha. I guess you can say that's one resolution I kept. I quit my job, found a new one and moved halfway across the country, plus a whole bunch of other stuff mixed in.

It has been an interesting year. A year I'd like to live again? Not particularly, but it was a good year for figuring out who I am and where I want to go and how I think I might be able to get there. I think (I hope) I am a little bit better because of it. And as hard as the whole thing was sometimes, I am glad I didn't make myself a hypocrite. I'm such an idealist, such a "go get the life you want" kind of person. I get so frustrated when I see people not living up to their potential and living the life they should--could--be living. So I'm glad I backed up all my idealistic talk and took a risk when I had the chance, even though it was (and still sometimes is) super scary and hard and I'm not exactly sure how it will all turn out.

It was also a good year of lessons. I learned a lot about life. Stuff like ...

* The time leading up to a decision is far, far harder than the time after the decision. That's not to say there isn't a lot of really tough stuff that comes after you make a hard decision, but I think the days and weeks and months leading up to it can be excruciating, much more difficult than actually going through with it. People can agonize for years over whether to stay in a relationship or stay in a job or whatever--that's the hardest part. There's a certain peace and relief that comes with finally deciding, no matter what the decision is. It's like you're holding your breath the whole time and you're finally able to let it out.

* Sometimes you'll never be sure. I would like to think that deep in your gut you'll know if a choice is right when you make it, but sometimes you don't know until after you decide, and maybe not for a long time after that. Sometimes you just have to jump and hope there's going to be something at the bottom, even if that something is nothing more than a loyal friend frantically blowing up an air mattress to cushion your fall, or at least to try to keep you from breaking your neck.

* Change is horrible. I mean, put all the cutesy spins and platitudes on it you want, it just flat-out sucks and there's a reason everyone hates it. But it's also the surest way to make a person grow and I think it's also one of the surest ways to give a person hope, which, at the end of the day, I think people need more than they need to feel comfortable.

* Sometimes you just have to let yourself feel it (and also embrace who you are). I am a sensitive girl, an emotional girl, a passionate girl. You can tell exactly what I'm thinking when you look at me, and I spent a lot of time the past couple of years thinking that was a weakness. But you know what? I LIKE that I feel things so deeply. I like that little things are important to me. I like that I can immerse myself totally and fully in a moment and let myself feel it, even if it feels kind of crappy. Very soon after I moved here, one of my coworkers said it was easy to see I had a soft heart. Really? I said. Yeah, he said, you're a lover. I laughed, because it's TOTALLY true and it TOTALLY gets me in trouble, but this time last year, I would have thought that was a bad thing. Now, I'm glad people who barely know me can see that. (And, on a side note, I also tend to believe that everything catches up with you eventually, so would you rather process something now or later? A lot of times, I *think* later sounds better, but really, it's now. Always now, because that keeps later free for something else.)

* Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you love someone, it's still not enough. I guess that's one of those tough life lessons everyone has to learn at some point, but I still don't like it.

* It is so much better to try than not to try. I'm a big "what if" girl, and the "what if" of trying and crashing spectacularly is a lot easier for me to handle than the "what if" of not trying in the first place. There were a lot of times this year when something went badly and after the dust settled I thought, "Well, at least I tried." Knowing you tried makes doing hard things easier. And it also gives you the freedom to try something else.

* The friends that are like family will always be like family, no matter how far apart you live. Although it sure is a lot better to sit in their living room to gossip and watch trashy TV than it is to do it over the phone.

* No matter how vastly people's musical tastes differ, everyone can agree on The Beatles.

* A bubble bath with Godiva chocolate and the latest issue of InStyle magazine is absolutely fantastic no matter where you live.

* People are good. I've always believed that, but I love reminders, and this year was full of them. I can't tell you how many times I started crying not because I was sad or upset about something, but because someone was just SO NICE to me I couldn't believe it.

That includes you guys. Thank you so much for sticking with me over the past year. Thank you for the kind comments, the emails, the words of encouragement, the funny things you say that make my life better. I am so grateful for the goodness that I see all the time in my tiny little corner of the Internet world. I hope you all have the best year of your lives this year, and I can't wait to hear all about it. Happy New Year, everyone!

(P.S. Contest winners Monday!)

It's a holiday extravaganza!

2008-12-23T04:23:00.004-05:00

Good news: I did not get buried alive under the alleged 18 FREAKING INCHES OF SNOW we got over the weekend (although I did manage to get myself sort of stuck in a snowdrift on the way home from work on unplowed roads. Thank you, random person who pulled over to help me, subsequently got frustrated at my steering and personally took over the wheel while I stood in the snow and watched!)

Good news: Even though I continue to boycott winter by stubbornly refusing to wear proper cold-weather attire, I have not cracked any limbs slipping while walking on icy sidewalks in heels. Yet.

Good news: I finally cleared away a ton of crap in my apartment. I have the random box scattered here and there, and the whole place is still a little bit of a mess and my schedule is still COMPLETELY jacked but ... I can see my bed again! So I'm getting there. 2009 will TOTALLY be the return of Swishy and random coffee shop sightings, you can take that to the bank and get it turned into quarters.

In the meantime, it's time for a very overdue contest. I planned a sentimental "Goodbye to TRL" post a few weeks ago, but you know ... moving, unpacking, sucking at life, blah blah blah. TRL, for those of you who had better things to do 10 years ago than watch MTV (anyone?), was the show that gave Carson Daly his big break and at least partially was responsible for launching Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, 'N Sync, 98 Degrees, Hanson, Christina Aguilera ... you know, all the great musical acts of the latter part of the 20th century.

Anyway, my friend and I used to watch TRL EVERY DAY back in the day. They would replay it at 9 p.m. and we'd sit in front of the TV and say things to each other like, "How old do you think Britney Spears really is?" or "Nick Lachey is the hottest boxer EVER!" while we ate ice cream in our PJs. It's one of the fondest pop culture memories I have, and believe you me, there are many.

No one's watched TRL in like eight years, including yours truly, but it ended a couple of weeks ago, and in its honor, I made a very special TRL CD that I will be giving away to a very special commenter (or two or three) during this very special holiday season. Listen to it and be instantly transported to a kinder, gentler time in American history, a time when Britney was still dating her soulmate Justin, when Christina was just a genie in a bottle, when Fred Durst was doing it all for the nookie. It's a POP CULTURE TIME CAPSULE!

But wait! That's not all! I'm also finally going to give away a CD for this post (which means, go add a song and maybe it'll get on there since I haven't made it yet!). That's not one, but two CDs, plus maybe, just maybe, a fun holiday goodie or two thrown in.

See? I am not SUCH a loser blogger! I'll draw a couple names at the end of the week. Have a great holiday, everyone!

Miss Crankypants

2008-12-17T05:13:00.002-05:00

That would be me. In no particular order, the things that are making me cranky these days:

* I have become a complete loser blog slacker, something I swore I would never do because I hate, hate, HATE when I read blogs and people never post. (I am gonna stop slacking staaaaarting ... now. For real, for real!)

* I have zero routine. Part of this is because everything is still new, part of it is because my work schedule has bounced all over the place and I'm having a hard time keeping up. I HATE not having a schedule. I know that makes me sound anal, and unless you knew me well, you probably would never guess that about me, but oh, my gosh, fewer things make me crazier. I used to get a TON done and now I get NOTHING done.

* I've barely worked out since I moved here and I haven't worked out at all since I moved into my apartment, which makes me all antsy. (Yet I've lost four pounds, which believe me, does not motivate me ONE BIT to start up again. It's probably all muscle and water, but still. Still!)

* I have gotten absolutely no Christmas shopping done. I have barely even thought about it. Christmas? What's Christmas?

* I haven't picked up my mail from the post office in like a week and a half because it's always closed when I go. I'm starting to get mail at my apartment, but not all of it ... just ask Verizon. (The bill is IN THE MAIL! I swear!)

* I have about a zillion things left to unpack and I'm still sleeping on the couch.

* I haven't been to the DMV yet because I hate the DMV and I have no time to go anyway, but it stresses me out to drive around with expired plates. Also, it stresses me out to look at that stupid cracked mirror every time I get in my car.

* I lost my thing to log into work email from home and I can't find it ANYWHERE and I just KNOW they will think I'm a total flake if I tell them I lost it.

* I have wood floors, and there's a big scratch in the living room. I saw it the day I moved in, and I asked the movers about it, and they swore it wasn't them. And you know what, I kind of believed them, because I watched them carry stuff in and everything with edges was covered. So I didn't file a claim with the moving company, but for some reason lately I am SO PARANOID about that stupid scratch. I even had a dream about it last night, that my landlord saw it and flipped out and wouldn't give me back my deposit, even though it's entirely possible it's been there forever and I just didn't notice it when I looked at the place. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? WHO DREAMS ABOUT THAT STUFF? WHY CAN'T I DREAM ABOUT HOT SEXY HOTTIES INSTEAD? So I spent like a half hour tonight Googling how to remove scratches. Did you know you can fix a scratch by melting a crayon and mixing it with lemon juice and oil? Who knew? I am scared to try it, though, because I am not MacGyver. I might try this instead.

* I have been thinking a lot about life and change and people and choices. It's all complicated stuff that sometimes makes me sad, which is sort of an offshoot of cranky.

* It was very weird going back last week. It was great and fun but I felt a little bit like I had one foot in one life and one foot in the other. I felt like I hadn't moved, like I'd just been on a really long business trip or something. I've been a little off-kilter since. It's a really strange feeling.

Basically, I think I'm just having a hard time feeling settled. I'm off today, so I'll be able to get a lot done (I hope). In the meantime, these things are helping me feel a little less cranky:

* My hair. I can get away with sloppy hair for like a week after I get it cut, which means more sleep for me. BIG yay on that one.

* On the plane, I (finally) finished reading Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris. It's so good, such a perfect book about office life.

* The Bonnie Hunt Show. Please, someone, tell me you have seen her show. She is just the nicest, funniest, most genuine person in the world, and it always makes me a little happy to see even just a couple minutes of her show.

* My DVR. I FINALLY have a DVR and it is merely the BEST THING EVER even though I haven't had time to watch anything on it yet.

* Nice, awesome people like all of you. Thank you for listening, I feel less cranky already. Have a great day, everyone!

I probably think this song is about me

2008-12-10T17:33:00.001-05:00

When I was getting ready to move, people were like, oh, that's sad, we're going to miss you, and I was like, nah, I'll be back all the time. And they were like, yeah, yeah, whatever, everyone says that, and I was like, no, you don't understand ... I cannot HANDLE finding a new hairdresser. I WILL be back.

So. Guess where I am right now. Ha ha ha ha.

I flew in this morning (I went to bed at 4:30 and got up at 6!!! The lengths I go to to get rid of split ends!!!). I'm hanging out with my friends, getting my hair cut tomorrow and then flying back early Friday in time for work. My coworkers think I am absolutely certifiable, but in my defense, I DID have an airline credit I had to use and I DO want to see everyone, so it's not TOTALLY totally crazy. Just a little crazy. And I'm sorry, but moving and getting settled and making new friends and learning a new job is emotionally taxing enough, I can't throw a bad haircut in there on top of it. How much emotional trauma and upheaval do you expect one girl to handle???

Go ahead, make fun of me, I don't care. But listen, I had permed hair in middle school. I had horrible teased bangs. I had hair dye attempts gone terribly wrong in college. I have had a LIFETIME of bad hair. It's time to end the cycle, even if that means getting on a plane on an hour's sleep to get my hair cut by the girl it took me three, yes, THREE YEARS to find after I moved here.

(The big question is what I'll do two months from now when I DON'T have an airline credit. It'll be like Sophie's Choice. Swishy's Choice, today on the Lifetime Movie Network!)

Almost as exciting, guess where I am RIGHT THIS SECOND. That's right, my coffee shop, and it's like I never left. My booth was here waiting for me, the great CDs that were playing two months ago are still playing and the chocolate chip cookies taste exactly the same.

Ahhhhhhhhhh. All I need is the CIA agent.

La vida loca

2008-12-05T03:49:00.002-05:00

Answers to frequently asked questions ...

No, I am not dead.
No, I am not trapped under a pile of packing paper.
No, Brad and Angelina did not summon me to their chalet to help with the kids.
No, I have not built a love nest for two with the hot new neighbor.
No, I have not abandoned my blog to work for the CIA.

I did, however, finally get rid of quite a few boxes, which is a miracle on par with the parting of the Red Sea and a comeback by Britney Spears. It is a HUGE relief and I totally went and got a pedicure for my nasty feet today to celebrate. (I was walking around outside in flip-flops afterward and a guy stopped me--since, you know, it's FREEZING out--and goes, "You just got your nails done, didn't you?" Why, yes, yes, I did, I said, and he was all, "I can tell. They look goooooooooood." I was like, thank you very much, foot fetish man!)

(The place is still trashed, by the way, and I'm still sleeping on the couch because I'm too damn lazy to clear off the bed. But at least it's not trashed with CARDBOARD.)

I also had a development seminar for work this week, during which I learned two very important things:

No. 1: I am 12 years old.
No. 2: So is my coworker.

Exhibit A:
About two hours in, we start passing notes.
Me: You should get a lizard or something. You could teach it tricks.
Him: You're on drugs. (A minute later.) Can I buy some?

Him (after seeing me check my messages and write down a number for Steve the moving guy): Is Steve hot?
Me: Sizzling! (surrounded by little squiggle lines)
Him: More sizzle than Coworker B?
Me: Is that even possible?
Coworker gets out his phone and takes a picture of our paper as "evidence" for the rest of the department that I "like" Coworker B.

Exhibit B:
Coworker changes my name placard to say "Mrs. Coworker B."

Exhibit C:
Speaker: No person likes to be dominated.
I start giggling.
Coworker (whispering): You. Are. HORRIBLE!

Speaker: OK, now let's spend two minutes on "buts".
Coworker starts snickering.
Me: YOU'RE horrible!

Exhibit D:
Coworker draws a line across my paper. I can't stand having a random line across the middle of my paper, so I make it into a mountain with a little stick figure skier. Coworker adds a pine tree. Stick figure skier dies. Then we play tic tac toe.

At one point, we had to practice our listening skills by partnering up and listening to the other person talk uninterrupted for two minutes. Every time we glanced away or stopped paying attention for a second, we had to make a signal, which was to help us be more aware of being "present" in conversations.

"Are you going to have a hard time talking for two minutes straight?" asked my partner, a charming young Brit with an oh-so-charming British accent to match. I was like, oh, you sweet boy, you have no idea.

I think we all know what I talked about.

"So," I said, taking a breath, "you know Brad and Angelina, right? I am FASCINATED with them. I just stayed in this place with the crappiest cable ever, so I could only watch that one show on, I don't know what channel it is, CNBC or CNN or MSNBC or something like that. Anyway. Every single night they talked about Brad and Angelina and I TOTALLY wanted to call in but I didn't, but ... wait, I should backtrack. Have you ever seen Mr. and Mrs. Smith? OH. MY. GOSH. You can totally, TOTALLY see the part where they fall for each other, I saw it in the movie theater and I completely freaked out and smacked my friend's arm, like, OH. MY. GOSH. DO. YOU. SEE. THE. WAY. HE. LOOKED. AT HER!!!!!! They're outside, and they're drinking tequila, and they're dancing in the rain, and the next morning she thinks he's gone, but he's not, he went to go get coffee and he's sitting by the window and he looks at her and she looks at him and OH MY FREAKING GOODNESS IT'S LIKE CRAZY SUPER HOT and ANYWAY, when they had the babies I totally couldn't even wait to get my People magazine in the mail, I had to go to the bookstore and buy a copy and ..."

His eyes resembled those of a caged animal's, but bless his heart, he only signaled me once. "I'm sorry, it's just ... I don't really follow social commentary," he said sheepishly in that lovely British accent of his when I was done. "Oh, you should," I said. "You REALLY should. You have NO IDEA what you're missing out on." So he promised to start flipping through People magazine, and then he told me about his mum and I thought it was just the cutest thing ever.

And there you go. I am going to be a much, much better blogger now, I promise. (For REAL this time! No boxes = no blogging hiatuses.) Have a good weekend, everyone!

The girl who fell off the face of the earth

2008-11-26T01:47:00.002-05:00

(That would be me.)

Hi, everyone! How are you? I hope you're good. I'm good, just going around like a complete and total crazy person lately. I had the whole move-in and then I worked all weekend. I've also been going out a lot, which is great being the new girl in town and all, but BAD when you consider that last night was the first night in a week that I got more than four hours of sleep. I almost did a face plant in my yogurt the other morning.

OK, let's play quick catch-up and then I'll write more later ...

* I'm about halfway unpacked, maybe a little more, which isn't really that terrible but isn't really that good, either. My little "stay in the hotel until I get everything unpacked" idea sort of backfired on me, because I didn't get over to the apartment enough and it was very weird having stuff in two places and blah blah blah. So now I'm like, fine, I'm just moving in like a normal person, and if staring at mountains of paper and boxes every day doesn't make me unpack fast, nothing will. So tonight is the last night in the hotel (which I would have to be out of by Monday anyway).

* In related news, the cable guy is coming tomorrow morning. No, that is definitely not a coincidence, and yes, I am as giddy as a girl on prom night, thank you for asking.

* So get this, I actually have a hot guy neighbor. I haven't had a hot guy neighbor since college and it is all very exciting and new except I DON'T HAVE A PEEPHOLE! How am I supposed to spy on someone without a peephole? (Rhetorical question. You know me, I'll find a way if I have to drill a peephole myself, and you'll all get to see the pictures. But still.)

* Speaking of boys, the boys are insane here. Like, insane in a "I think I'm the first girl they've seen in five years" way. I could fill a thousand blog posts with stories of the boys here, and I might have to do just that. IN. SANE.

* OK, you haven't had a "Stupid Swishy" story in a while (like, what? a week?). So you know that great garage I have? You know how tired I said I was? You know how sometimes it gets really, really dark at night and sometimes you can't see what you're doing because there's not enough light? Well. I was backing out of my garage a couple days ago, and it was sooo dark, and it was only like the second time I'd backed out of it, and ... CRUNCH. Oh, yes. Yes, I did. I totally tore off part of the sideview mirror on my brand-new, pristine car. I sat there for a second and I was like, well. OK. And then I got out, picked up all the glass and the plastic, and drove away.

Can you believe that? I was like, DUMB! How dumb! But there was obviously nothing I could do about it, so I tried not to spaz about it too much. I actually did something kind of like that to my last car when I first got it. Now I get to pay to have my car fixed just shy of its two-month birthday. So awesome I can't stand it.

* I am totally appalled that Ashlee Simpson named her baby Bronx Mowgli Wentz (BMW).

* I am even more appalled that Spencer and Heidi eloped. WHAT. THE. HELL.

* I am off to bed, my friends. Happy Thanksgiving!

Ohhhh goodness

2008-11-18T01:59:00.000-05:00

The movers are coming in six hours. I got an hour and a half of sleep last night. Must ... go ... to bed. But I will have an update, and pictures, and all that good stuff for you tomorrow. I am so ready to get my stuff and SO DREADING unpacking. Boo. (I am totally not giving up the hotel room until I have Internet and cable hooked up, though! Ha.)

Have a good morning, everyone! More later ....

As the Apartment Search Turns

2008-11-12T17:33:00.004-05:00

In today's installment ...

I totally asked him for a discount and he TOTALLY SAID YES! Yeahhhhh!!!

Of course, I AM SO NEUROTIC, I think, wait ... that was too easy. So I drag my heels all day taking over the application, and finally I realize that OK, it's not the apartment, it's the fact that DECIDING on an apartment means I really, really do live here now, and that is a little like, whoa. You know?

(Dr. Phil, he would be proud.)

I get over myself and go drop the thing off. Before I leave I'm like, hey, can I take the keys from you and run over there for a second to look around one last time and take some pictures?

(This is a little bit of a test because Crazy McPushypants would have NEVER let me do that alone.)

The landlord is a super nice guy, so he's like, of course, go ahead and take your time, and if you want, you can take the garage door opener off the counter too so you have it.

(I like the landlord. He also was like, please don't worry about the walls, I noticed there were a couple nail holes that hadn't been filled, so I had them filled and primed but they haven't been painted over yet. You guys, there were like three TINY nail holes, it was so not a big deal. But that is how well he keeps it up.)

So I drive over and go inside and immediately I was like, all right, I really am gonna be OK here. There's just something different about being there myself, without someone watching, so I can poke through the fridge and the cabinets and talk out loud to myself about how, oh, this can go here, and that can go there, and maybe I'll buy a bigger bookshelf for that corner.

So it's good. I'm taking it. I'll move in next week.

(Of course, I'm still me, so when he asked if I wanted to take the keys and sign the lease while I was there contingent on the credit application to save myself a trip, I was like, oh, no, that's OK, I'll come back tomorrow. Just so I can give myself 12 more hours to freak out about it.)

Thank you, guys. You are the best, best, best.

(P.S. I haven't called the other guy at all. He cashed my check for the application, but he hasn't tried to get ahold of me. I don't need to call him to tell him I'm not going to take the place ... right? Or do I?)

Updates, updates

2008-11-11T00:00:00.005-05:00

Helllllllo! Hello, hello, hello! I have been a little blog slack-y but I am getting into a little bit better routine now, so things should start (finally) getting back to normal. Until I move into the new place and have to unpack, at least. Which leads me to ... my apartment update!

Well. Well, well, well. You should all know that I'm totally laughing right now, even though I'm a little stressed out about the whole thing, just because this is SO LIKE ME. I definitely want to live in the cute neighborhood, but I could not stop thinking about how small that apartment is. It was not "I'm being a princess" small, either. It really was SMALL. Also, the landlord was being SO pushy it made me start to think maybe there was something shady going on. I went to fill out the application for the credit check, thinking it would buy me at least another day, and he wanted me to sign the lease and write him a check for the deposit RIGHT THAT SECOND, even before he submitted the application. I was like, um, I'm kind of in a rush right now, but I'll come back later. And he was like, we have to do it TODAY. I will come to you and meet you in two hours so we can do it TODAY.

So this is what I did. I called my new co-worker (who lives in the neighborhood, and also, by the way, has an apartment he calls small that is WAY bigger) on the verge of tears, and then my friend Allee in full-blown tears, and both of them told me the same thing: DO NOT LET HIM PUSH YOU INTO ANYTHING! So I made up another lie and left a message with his secretary saying I couldn't meet him because I needed to measure my furniture to make sure everything would fit before I signed anything. (Is that a lame lie? I think maybe it is. I am a terrible liar. But I'm also a little non-confrontational and he was a little scary, so a lame lie it was.)

Anyway, I spazzed about it at work all day, and they were like, look, whether it's a good place or a bad place, you do not want a jerk as a landlord. Which is true. I thought for sure I would get an irate phone call from him, but I haven't heard anything. So I guess that's good, maybe he's rented it to someone else. On the other hand, maybe he took my social security number off my application, opened several credit cards in my name and bought himself some coke and hookers over the weekend.

These are the things that keep me up at night.

So here is the status. Two more apartments have opened up on that street and I'm going to check those out. They're not much bigger, but they are bigger (with fireplaces), and hopefully not managed by a pushy madman. Also, I looked at another apartment for the second time. It really is a good place. It's two blocks closer to the heart of the neighborhood (like a five-minute walk from everything), big and open with a brand-new kitchen and cabinets and windows plus A GARAGE. It is insane that it has a garage, and even more insane than that is the thought of NEVER, NOT ONCE, HAVING TO SCRAPE MY WINDOWS THIS WINTER! However, it's also, like, $150-250 more a month than the other ones. I can probably afford it, but it is sort of the principle. Do you know how many sweaters I can buy at H&M for $200? How many extra cable channels I can get? A LOT.

BUT! I sort of have a plan. Here is my plan. The guy wants first month, last month AND a month security deposit. AND he wants to start the lease November 15, with the money for that up front, too. So 3 1/2 months rent when you sign the lease. I think that is asking A LOT, especially in this economy. So! I might say, OK, fine, but if you're getting all of that up front, I want something up front, too ... like a discount on the rent. It doesn't have to be a HUGE discount, but 50 bucks a month or something to knock it into a lower category so that psychologically I feel better about the whole thing. Or the rest of November free. Something like that.

Maybe that is a dumb plan. I asked him when I saw it again if the price was firm and he said "pretty firm" ... but I might try it anyway.

OK. In other news ...

I love that I can make the grumpiest person in my department laugh, and how amazed everyone is when it happens.

I don't love that I've locked myself out of my hotel room four times now, and that on the fourth time they had no keys left for me. (HA.)

I love that the guys at work let me be the only girl at their boys' night out. And I love that they already have a nickname for me (even if it is YENTA! Ha ha ha ha ha).

I don't love that I have the worst cable in the history of bad cable. I am starting to feel it in a BAD way, let me tell you. It's NOVEMBER SWEEPS. I keep trying to watch shows online, but the tradeoff of having a good corner room is having a bad Internet connection, so I can't watch video. It's an issue. A big one.

I love that I do have Showtime, at least, so I can watch Dexter.

I love that the band at an Irish pub I went to the other night all of a sudden broke into La Bamba (random!) and every single person in this tiny little bar started dancing and singing every word of it at the top of their lungs.

I don't love how much I miss certain things about home, especially on my days off.

I love that you are all so totally awesome, the best, funniest and smartest people ever. Have a great day, everyone!

I like to make things harder on myself

2008-11-05T14:14:00.003-05:00

Exhibit A: I'll just cut to the chase on this one. I ran out of gas in the middle of the highway yesterday. Yes, that actually happens to people in real life and not just in contrived movies and TV shows. It happens to STUPID PEOPLE. Stupid people who are too busy driving around in circles and talking on the phone and debating Brad Pitt, Barack Obama and the meaning of life to remember their low fuel light has been on for like two days. People like that.

Me: Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!
Mom: Watch your language!
Me: HELLO. MISSING THE POINT. (Pause.) Shiiiiiiiiit.
Mom: What? What point?
Me: DAMMIT. I just ran out of gas.
Mom: I did not raise my daughters to have potty mou--wait, you what?
Me: I ran out of gas ON THE FREAKING HIGHWAY. I am COASTING on the side of the ROAD right now.
Mom: Why didn't you put gas in your car when the light went on?
Me: I think maybe because I was HOPING I'd run out of gas on the highway. I was like, hmmm, what can I do for fun today? I KNOW! How about I run out of gas--
Mom: All right, I get it. (Pause.) You know, I never let my car go below a quarter tank, just to make sure nothing like that happens.
Me: Really? That's a really happy story. Thanks.

Of course, I can't just be stupid and run out of gas. I have to run out of gas in a state where I don't know anyone! So instead, I called everyone in my OLD state and bitched about it while I waited AN HOUR AND A HALF for roadside assistance. (I was going to try to walk to a gas station, and my mom COMPLETELY freaked out because it was night and I was on the highway and made me promise to stay in my car. Normally, I am far too stubborn to do something merely to make my mother happy, but this time I acquiesced because did I mention the fact that I spent the hour and a half totally paranoid that a cop would come to "help" me and realize my registration was expired and give me a ticket? For some reason, I had it in my head that I was much more likely to get a ticket if I left my car than if I stayed with it. Why is my registration expired? Besides my well-documented track record of flouting authority? Because it was up at the end of October and I don't know where I'm living yet so I can't renew it here. Sitting on the side of a major highway with no gas is not a good way to flee from the law, let me tell you.)

Anyway, it wasn't the end of the world, I even started laughing when I called roadside assistance, but all in all, NOT THAT FUN. Finally, an hour after he was supposed to, the guy showed up with my two complimentary gallons of gas. "I hope you like it here!" he said before he drove away. HA freaking HA.

Exhibit B: So. I think I found an apartment. Well, there are two options, but I think I am getting this one. It is in a VERY fun part of town, very cute, very vibrant, walking distance to bookstores, bagel shops, a movie theater, etc. The downside is that this area is older, so the apartment is smaller with older cabinets, no washer/dryer hookup, a tiny, tiny kitchen, no dishwasher. But it does have big windows and new hardwood floors and an exposed brick wall that is painted glossy white and is in a GREAT neighborhood--safe, residential, parks nearby--with heat included in the rent.

But! A couple of the boys at work live in another town a bit farther away, and I could have everything I had in my old place--an extra bedroom, washer/dryer, fireplace, newer appliances. The rent wouldn't be too much more ($150 or so) and I would have a lot more space, plus people I know living nearby. There is a little downtown with some good restaurants, but there's not nearly as much going on.

I pretty much know I want to live in the first area, because it is just SO cute and I am sick of living in big apartment complexes. But I definitely would have to scale back and get rid of some stuff, because it's a lot smaller. And, of course, you know me, I can't just make a decision, I have to agonize over it and do the pros and cons and commit and uncommit and commit again about a thousand times first. The guy totally put me on the clock too because it hadn't been listed yet, which SO did not help. I was supposed to go to his office this morning to fill out an application and I totally froze. I was like, I need one more day to drive around and just be sure. So I called him and said (little white lie alert) I got called into work and I would come first thing tomorrow to do the application instead. And he got TOTALLY PISSED at me! He's like, "You know, I could rent this place in a heartbeat, you're lucky I let you look at it before it was listed, blah blah blah" and I was like, DUDE! SLOW YOUR ROLL. I'LL BE IN TOMORROW.

Now, of course, I feel guilty and like maybe I should just go over there and sign my poor little life away, but really, it is JUST 24 hours, right? And shouldn't I be sure? Shouldn't I go back around and explore a little? Shouldn't I check out IKEA's website for shelving units that can fit in the closet and go to places like ApartmentTherapy.com for tips on decorating a smaller space first? Just to REALLY MAKE SURE? I think so ... right?

A post totally not about Election Day*

2008-11-04T05:33:00.002-05:00

(Job update: The other day, I was so in love with my job I wanted to marry it; the next day I wanted to arrange for it to have a "tragic" "accident" during our Carribean honeymoon so I could collect the insurance money and shack up with a much younger cabana boy by the ocean. Today we were back on decent terms. I'll keep you posted.

Apartment update: None. In denial. Moving on.)

A few weeks ago I saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which I thought was really cute (thanks in large part to Michael Cera, who Manic likes to call "that boy from Juno" even though he's really that boy from Arrested Development. I MISS THAT SHOW!). The other day, my friend sent me a little package with fun magazines and caramel popcorn and the Nick and Norah soundtrack. I was reading the liner notes and the director talks about how he worked in a music store when he was in high school. People would come in just desperate to find out the name of a song they heard in passing, a snippet they heard on the radio or in a store or through the open window of someone else's car, and he would help them find the song.

I have done that SO MANY TIMES, just gotten absolutely crazed over finding a song. I'm constantly scribbling down, like, five words on the back of some receipt and then Googling them to death later until I find the right one. I searched for MONTHS for the song that played when Carrie saw Aidan again at the opening of Steve's bar on Sex and the City (Love for Real by Everlast ... it threw me because it was mostly instrumental, and the vocals that WERE there were by a woman). I was at lunch with someone once and, I don't know, it was kind of one of "those" conversations, and this perfect song was playing in the background, which I found out later was Statue by Low Millions. A couple of months ago, I heard a line of this song that I just loved and HAD to find, and it was Just Say Anything by Five a.m. (My favorite example of that on the CD is a song called The Last Words, and there's a part that goes, "You said you loved me and I kind of believed it, but who knows what that means anymore." It's like 1:20 in, listen to it, it's so good.)

Anyway, reading that reminded me of that scene in Garden State where she's like, listen to this song, it will change your life. I didn't love that scene, actually, but I like the idea of a song moving you so much it changes your life a little. I was trying to think of what mine would be, and it's HARD! I feel like they shouldn't just be songs I like, they should be songs that MEAN something. Here's what I've got ...

Fire and Rain and Carolina in my Mind, James Taylor. When I was 13 or 14, I had this incredible crush on a boy named Drew. I went to this dance and they played Fire and Rain (totally random), and Drew actually ASKED ME TO DANCE. We (I) had our little three minutes and 26 seconds of bliss, and then I didn't talk to him the rest of the night. My friend's mom came to pick us up. We were all packed into the minivan, and I was in the way, way back, looking out the window, when Drew's mom's car pulled up right next to us. Drew was in the backseat, and I just stared at him, like, having a mini heart attack while everyone else around me talked and laughed and whatever. I didn't think he could see me, but then all of a sudden, right when the light turned green, he put his hand up and gave me a little wave. Carolina in my Mind (double random) was playing on the radio, and I swear to you, it was the first time in my life that time froze just for a second. I am a HUGE "moment" girl, which is why I can remember things like what song was playing when I had lunch with someone three years ago. That was the first real "moment" I remember.

Closer to Fine, Galileo, Least Complicated, Indigo Girls. I listened to a lot of Indigo Girls my first year or two of college. I had this all-nighter ritual: Excedrin, Dr Pepper, Goldfish crackers and Indigo Girls. I think it was the first time I realized there was stuff outside of Top 40 radio, which definitely impacted the kind of music I liked from that point on, and all of the lyrics were about figuring out who you were and what it means to be in love and things like that, which were pretty appropriate for a 17-year-old girl away from home (2,000 miles away, no less) for the first time.

Angel Dream, Tom Petty. I dated this guy once who was in a band. He used to say this song reminded him of me, and he put his version and Tom Petty's version on a tape for me when I went off to college. Why was it life-changing? Because he was the first person who really loved me--not just liked me, but loved me--even though he didn't have to, even though I didn't quite love him back the same way, and that song reminds me of that.

Falls Apart, Sugar Ray. This is the song that caused me to hurl myself at the stage and tell Mark McGrath I would have his babies. (Did I say I was proud? No. No, I did not.) But I HAVE loved concerts ever since.

Chocolate, Snow Patrol. The first line is: "This could be the very moment I'm aware I'm alive." I think a lot of times we can catch ourselves sleepwalking through life, but no matter how much time you've wasted, no matter how you've screwed up, it can all change right this second. I can't tell you how many times I've blasted that song and been like, OK, this could be it, this could be the beginning of the rest of your life.

Mr. Brightside, The Killers. It totally represents to me the beginning of one of the more significant relationships of my life (timing, maybe?). For a long, long time, I listened to it every day on the way to work.

And two albums: August and Everything After, by the Counting Crows, and Futures, by Jimmy Eat World. I did not like Counting Crows when that album came out. As a matter of fact, I think it's fair to say I HATED THEM. But a few years later, when I didn't hear Mr. Jones every single time I turned on the radio or see Courteney Cox moping in the video for A Long December every time I turned on MTV, I rediscovered that CD and just fell absolutely in love. I just GOT it. I feel like I can relate to just about every song on that CD.

And Futures ... oh, Futures. There are a few songs on Futures that completely, utterly and totally capture some very big years of my life. Do you ever feel like if someone watched something or read something or heard something in particular, they would be able to get you that much more? I feel that way with some of those songs. They're me, in four-minute increments. I guess that's why they made such an impact on me, because someone was able to put into words how I feel and I know I'm not the only person in the world who feels that way.

What about you? What songs changed your life? (Maybe we'll make a life-changing soundtrack and do a giveaway!)

(*Although, yes, you should stand in line and vote and blah blah blah. I was totally into this election for a long time, and now I am so sick of it I could scream. I'm sure I'll still have my butt in front of the TV watching results all night, though.)

I don't even know

2008-10-30T11:37:00.007-04:00

I am in this weird zone right now. I feel like there is SO MUCH going on and NOTHING going on at the same time. Sometimes I'm cranky, sometimes I'm bored, sometimes I'm fine. I think maybe I haven't really settled into the whole "this is my life now" thing yet. I'm OK and everything, I just have no idea how this is all going to turn out and it's a little weird.

Anyway. I have a few stories, but they involve work people and generally I don't blog about work people, at least not work people on a social level, so I'm not sure if I should tell them or not. It's just ... I'm shaking my head, put it that way. Shaking my head and thinking, I CANNOT HANDLE BOYS. Also, HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING WHEN I HAVE ONLY BEEN HERE A WEEK AND A HALF?!?

A WEEK and a HALF. It feels so much longer, you have no idea.

Anyway. Work is fine, I have no apartment, basically nothing is new in that department. I do not have a coffee shop yet and it is freaking me out, for real. I have this crazy weird schedule right now, so I was off yesterday, and I did all the usual stuff I do in the morning on my day off--pay my bills, run my errands--and then I was like, I'm supposed to go to my coffee shop now and blog about CIA agents! I'm SUCH a person of habit ... the schedule itself is hard enough to get used to, but then on top of it my day OFF schedule is different and I'm like a little lost puppy dog. The whole working out thing is tripping me out, too. My work has a gym but I'm a little scared of it, plus I would sort of have to work out before work and I like getting ready at home because there's just a lot of stuff involved that I don't want to schlep around. The hotel has a treadmill, which I've used like once, and I still have my old gym membership but I haven't found the location here yet.

Lame.

On the plus side, I've been playing a new game of "drive around and see if I can find a Target." It makes me unbelievably, irrationally happy to find a Target and see the same stuff inside that was at my old Target. It's like, FINALLY, at least SOMETHING didn't change!

Wow. I am so boring. I'll have to work on that.

Coming up for air

2008-10-24T23:37:00.000-04:00

Heyyyy. This week has been the longest blur EVER. But I am alive and I am in one piece and I haven't been fired and I haven't been branded the town's biggest social outcast (yet). So that is good.

A few of the week's highlights and lowlights and WTF-lights before I do a faceplant into my pillows:

* So I'm in temporary housing, right? It's different from the last time I was in temp housing. That was like a real apartment in an apartment complex, with lots of dishes and a washer and dryer and a VCR. This is pretty much a hotel, which is OK, except I walked in, all ready to watch the tapes I'd loaded up with shows to keep me company my first few days, and there was NO VCR. You KNOW I walked myself right out the door and to the closest Target to buy one. (Except that was a little bit of a disaster because of the kind of TV I have in my room, plus they do something with the cables so you can't disconnect stuff, I guess so you don't steal anything, and blah blah blah I'm not going into the rest of it other than to say there's a VCR/DVD combo sitting on my chair waiting to be returned to Best Buy. And thank goodness it is 2008 and I can watch TV shows online.) Also, the channel down and mute buttons on my remote don't work AND I don't have Bravo, VH1, MTV and basically every other channel worth watching. I think it is all a psychological tactic to make me want to move out faster and into my own place. IT IS TOTALLY WORKING!

* Best part of the hours upon hours of mind-numbing orientation: sexual harassment training. I am so TOTALLY 12 years old. I can never keep a straight face during those things. They gave us like four scenarios and we had to say whether they were sexual harassment or not, and then the lady gave us her porn talk. ("You might leave that day thinking you're OK, but I WILL FIND OUT and WE WILL HAVE A TALK. It doesn't embarrass me to have those talks AT ALL, but trust me, it will COMPLETELY embarrass you." Ha ha ha.)

* Tuesday was the worst day. It was horrible and long and freezing cold and I worked late and it was just a big crappy crap sandwich kind of day. So on the way home from work I stopped and got an ice cream sundae for dinner, got in the tub, ate my sundae, had a good cry and put myself in bed at 8:30. If you think that sounds pathetic, believe me, it was about a thousand times more pathetic than it sounds.

* Wednesday was the best day. I work with the nicest boy who ever lived. He was my person that day and he was SO sweet to me. (I know what you're going to say, and noooo, no, no.) Anyway, it was exactly what I needed, a little break from all the craziness, and that night I went out with a bunch of the guys I work with. I thought it was really nice of them to ask me and the nice boy even waited for me so he could drive in front of me so I wouldn't get lost on the way home.

* Thursday afternoon at work:

Co-worker One: Hey, Swish, guess what ... Co-worker Two has a friend who's a pirate.
Me: A friend who's a WHAT?
Co-worker Two: He's a PRIVATEER.
One: Right. A pirate.
Two: A PRIVATEER. (Pause.) I don't even know why I told you guys that.
Me: You seriously have a friend who's a pirate? Like, for real? He goes around on a ship and whatever?
One: A privateer, yeah.
Me: That is the most bizarre thing I have ever heard. Does he have a parrot?
Two: No.
Me: A parakeet?
Two: No. He had a dog, but it died.
One: Of scurvy?

This goes on for maybe 10 minutes.

* I went around and looked at apartments today. I don't really have anything to say about that yet other than it happened.

* Also, I did some laundry and no one stole my underwear. Yay! I had a washer/dryer in my old place but in the place before that I had to use a laundry room and my underwear ALWAYS got stolen. I'm all about the little victories these days.

I'll be a little more back to normal next week, I think (hope). Have a good weekend, everyone!

Status update

2008-10-22T00:39:00.005-04:00

First day: Not so bad
Second day: Not so good
I will see if three times is the charm tomorrow. Cross your fingers.

**********

OK, a very fast update: It's Wednesday night at like midnight, so I can't write a real post, but today was MUCH better. Not perfect, but better ... I got the W magazine with Angelina Jolie AND I even went out with some people tonight! I will do a real update tomorrow, I promise. Thank you so, so much for being so supportive and patient and crossing your cute little fingers and toes for me. More later ...

Quick updates

2008-10-20T00:59:00.002-04:00

OK, it's getting late and my first day of work is mere hours away, but I owe you a couple quick updates ...

The CIA agent. Here are the pictures. Clandestine register shot No. 1:

And No. 2:

And the super-secret rear view!

OK, the end of the story. No, I did not go up to him and tell him I've been blogging to the entire Internet about his secret identity, and don't ask me why not, because none of you would have done it either and you KNOW it! (OK, except for Manic. Ha.) Here's what happened: He looks at me about a thousand times. He packs up his computer, but he doesn't leave--he sits there for a while. And then he finally gets up and slowly walks across the coffee shop toward the exit ... but wait! He doesn't leave; instead, he goes into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, he walks out, stops and looks over at me. He smiles, and I sort of smile back. He takes a step toward me, and then he smiles again before turning around and walking out the door, out of the coffee shop, out of Miss Swishy's life forever.

I know I joke all the time about my little CIA agent, but it was honestly kind of a poignant moment. I hope he really is a secret agent, or at least that he secretly reads my blog and gets a little bit of a kick out of it.

*********

Friday was moving day. I spent a big chunk of the day on my bathroom floor. At first it was to stay out of the way (the bathroom was the one off-limits room), and then it was because every time I walked out, I saw less home and more empty, impersonal apartment and it all started to get a little overwhelming.

I tried really hard to hold it together (I blow dried my hair! I had like six different kinds of drinks in the fridge! I went out at freaking 7 a.m. on 2 1/2 hours of sleep and got bagels for everyone!) but there were a million little things left to do and I was completely overtired and emotional and as the day went on, I was just like, PUT MY STUFF DOWN AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. It was not my favorite day, and thank goodness I have wonderful people in my life who can put up with me when I am way, way less than perfect, that's all I can say.

*********

I wrote my name on my bedroom wall before I left. I always do that before I leave a place, write my name somewhere tiny where no one but me knows it's there. I've done it since I was eight. I guess it's my way of making sure I leave a mark.

*********

Two completely random interactions with strangers:

I'm taking some of the last stuff out to my friend's car when an older guy across the parking lot gets my attention. "I know we've never met," he says, "but I'm sorry to see you go."

I'm on the plane, looking like a complete wreck. I'm tired and I've been crying all morning and all I want to do is go to sleep. I try sitting back, I try leaning on my hand. I'm putting my head on my knees when the guy sitting next to me, a kid with tattoos and longish hair and several piercings, taps me on the shoulder. Without a word, he hands me his pillow. He had been leaning on it while he wrote music in a little notebook. "Are you sure?" I ask, and he nods. I take it. It smells like peppermint and I'm able to fall right to sleep. It was one of the nicest things a stranger has ever done for me.

*********

I've had one meltdown so far and, not surprisingly, it has to do with TV and my inability to watch it. So, you know, even though I'm in a new place, I am pretty much the same old Swishy. I'll tell you about it later, but now I have to try to go to sleep so I don't get fired on my first day. Have a good Monday, everyone!

The final mission

2008-10-15T18:27:00.009-04:00

OK. I've been working my little ass off all week to get stuff done for one reason: I am moving across the country in three days. Actually, make that two reasons: I'm moving across the country, and I HAD to carve out a couple hours to go to my coffee shop one last time. I'll be with the movers all day Friday and I'm sure I'll be running around like a crazy person doing last-minute stuff tomorrow, which left today. Today has been a hard-ish day. Last night, a bunch of old coworkers threw a happy hour for me (which stretched into almost five hours!) and way more people came than I expected and it was really sweet and fun but also made me sad, and then I had a dream about someone I really love but am not around anymore, and that made me sad, and then I was sorting through the hard stuff today, the sentimental stuff, and THAT made me sad. So it's been a little bit of a sad day.

All day I kept telling myself one thing to make myself plow through my sort of sad, sort of hard day: YOU HAVE TO GO TO YOUR COFFEE SHOP THIS AFTERNOON. You know how much I love my coffee shop. It is the No. 1 non-living thing I am going to miss most about this place (second, the college radio station, which I have been listening to nonstop). So I plowed through and went out into the traffic and the pouring rain to go hang at my happy place one last time.

I finally just walked in and ... YOU WILL DIE. OK, no, you won't, but I almost did. The CIA agent is here! He hasn't been here in MONTHS! Is that not downright POETIC? My last time at the coffee shop! He totally recognized me and did a little half-smile at me when I went up to the register. And then he remembered that, HELLO! He's a top secret spy, he's not supposed to smile! Have you ever seen Jack Bauer smile? No, you have not. So he caught himself mid-half-smile and put his "intense face" on again.

(I love that I'm talking like it's this amazing coincidence we're both here at the same time on my last day. Of COURSE it's not a coincidence. He's probably been tracking me for months as part of an investigation into girls who blow the covers of secret agents on their blogs.)

You know I took some pictures. I am so damn smooth sometimes, I kill myself. I was standing at the register talking to the girl and she's all, it's so sad you're leaving, and I'm like, oh, you're telling me, I've been a wreck all day, and while we're doing that I take out my camera, turn off my flash and snap two pictures of him like it was nothing. YEAH! The pictures totally suck, but whatever, they are still pictures and I will totally post them as soon as I get home.

In the meantime, I have caught him looking at me like three times. He must know it's his last chance to ask me to go on a SUPER-SECRET SPY MISSION with him! Either that, or he's like, why in the hell does that girl with ratty unwashed hair keep turning around and looking at me. Either/or. I will keep you posted.

*********

Update: He just got up to get more coffee! I took a picture of his ass! He did a FULL smile on his way back! HELLO, IMPORTANT GOVERNMENT MISSION, HERE I COME!

Update 2: He just looked at me again. IM with Manic Mom: "SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU HAVE TO TALK TO HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU HAVE TO TELL HIM HE IS SECRET AGENT MAN!!!!!!!! GO UP TO HIM AND SAY, 'IF YOU TELL ME NOT TO MOVE, I SO WON'T!' "

Update 3: Now Manic is on the phone: "GO HAND HIM THE PHONE AND SAY 'IT'S FOR YOU!' JUST WALK OVER. YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE!"

Update 4: I do not do either of those things because a) I am a world-class wimp and b) I am not really sure how to explain to someone that I've been blogging about his very secret career to the World Wide Web for the past year.

He is on the phone right now and he keeps looking at me. Option A: "Seriously, there's messy chic and then there's THAT. When did she last wash her hair, 1997?" (Yesterday! Yesterday is not THAT long ago!) Option B: "We are SO BUSTED! She's onto me! ABORT! ABORT!"

At this point, it's a toss-up. If a little more time goes by and you don't hear from me, you can assume that I've been tossed into the back of his black Lincoln Town Car for questioning.

T-minus I can't think about it

2008-10-14T02:29:00.004-04:00

Hello my sweet blog friends. How are you? I am fine. Well, mostly fine, I am a little neurotic/emotional/stressed/overwhelmed/pick a word and I'm probably it right now, but I am fine. I hope you are fine, too!

My weekend was crazy. On Friday morning, I drove my pimpin' new ride to Manic's neck of the woods for a whirlwind, 24-hour last hurrah. There was construction and cops the whole way, so it took me forever to get there (right in time, I might add, for awesome rush hour traffic). But we persevered! Manic had brownies and water and Diet Coke (and an endless supply of patience) all ready for me in case I was crabby because that is just the kind of wonderful BBFF she is. We went out for a night on the town and she gave me some beautiful, thoughtful and funny going-away presents ... and that's all I can tell you right now, because she is currently having a contest I will pretty much ruin if I go into any more detail. So go enter, and if you win a CD, I want a copy!

I stopped and had lunch with one of my favorite friends on the way back (one of the ones who just moved) and then went out with a few more of my favorite friends Saturday night. It was a little bit of a hard weekend in some ways (I think I cried for like two solid hours in the car, with the saddest acoustic coffee shop music in the world as my soundtrack), but I really am such a lucky girl. Even when I'm not at my best, I have people who love me anyway. They cheer me on and tell me I'm great even when I'm really not that great, and I can promise you not a day goes by that I don't think of what a little miracle that is. I feel like I've gotten to be in the presence of the best people life has to offer. I don't know what on earth I did to deserve the company of such wonderful people, but I am such a better person for it. (And that includes all of you! I hope you know how much I appreciate all of you who stop by and laugh at my silly little stories about CIA agents and McDonald's streakers. You guys are awesome. You have made so many of my crappy days better!)

Anyway, there have been little pockets of craziness, but I've gotten to spend some wonderful time with some wonderful people the past few days. This is how you'll know I'm running around like an insane person, though: I FORGOT MY CAMERA THE ENTIRE WEEKEND! I know, horrible, right? So no pictures, but I'll be sure to make up for it with a plethora of box and wrapping photos later in the week. (Exciting, huh? I know, I'm SUCH A TEASE.)

Move status: The truck comes Friday, my car gets picked up the same day, I fly out Saturday morning, I will move into temporary housing and then I will start my job on Monday. No, I am not remotely ready, but you know ... whatever. I am finding my inner Zen and embracing it so hard it starts coughing and its face turns purple, just watch me.

Starting tomorrow. Tonight, I think I will embrace a bowl of cookies and cream ice cream. Maybe even with a cherry on top.

Hot wheels

2008-10-10T00:03:00.002-04:00

I am so incredibly lame. Moving SUCKITY SUCKS, and I just don't have it in me to try to see the humor in it right now. Not when the move is a week away and I STILL don't know which day the movers are coming, not when I still don't know where I'm going to be staying once I go, not when there are mountains and mountains of things surrounding me that still have to be sorted through, people that still have to be called, errands that still have to be run ...

Yes. I am lame.

I did, however, cross one very big to-do off my list today, and that was buying a new car. Oh, my stressful. I am fairly certain the whole experience took a good five years off my life, but ... did I mention how pretty my car is? It IS pretty! I feel a little guilty for buying a new car, but I really, really did need one and I definitely got my money's worth out of the old one. It was the first car I'd ever owned, I paid for every cent of it myself, and I drove it right into the ground, poor thing.

But back to the actual buying. OK. I sort of knew what I wanted already, because I've only been thinking about buying a new car for, oh, three years now. So I went to one dealership last weekend and test-drove cars. I was able to narrow it down to the model I wanted, but I was NOT a big fan of the sales guy. For one thing, he kept talking to my (male, card-carrying penis-owning) friend instead of me, even though I was CLEARLY the person buying the car. Also, he actually picked up a half-smoked cigarette off the pavement, brushed it off and put it in his pocket to smoke later. I don't know if it was his or someone else's, but either way, ewww. Also, he couldn't answer some of my questions, and also, I wanted to title it in the new state and I wasn't sure I trusted him not to screw it up since he couldn't answer my other questions.

Anyway. I go into a near-panic when I so much as renew my cell phone contract, so even if he was the smartest, most charming non-cigarette-pilferer in the world, I was not going to be making any purchases that day anyway. I left, and spent the next two days going online, checking dealer inventories, running numbers, blah blah blah, until I found the car I wanted at a dealer about 10 miles away. I COULD have gone back to the other dealership and had him send for it so he could get the commission, but ... I didn't. Does that make me a bad person? I felt a little bad about it, but obviously not bad enough. (Also, when I mentioned that to him as a possibility--because I didn't want a white car and that's all he had with the features I wanted--he was like, ummm, I don't know about that, what's wrong with white, what do you have against white, I think you should just go with white.)

Anyway, tangent. So I go to the new dealership yesterday. My token male friend (who, bless his heart, is the most long-suffering, patient person on the planet) gets there a little bit before me, and is like, ohhhh, snap, guess what, some other lady is taking your car. And I was like, WHAT! What are you talking about? And he was like, yeah, she's buying the car you'd picked out, but they said they can get one here just like it by tomorrow. And I was like, hmm, we'll see about that.

So I get there and they're like, we're so sorry, that car has been sold, but you can drive this one, it's the exact same thing, and we'll get you the color you want (blue) by the end of the day if you decide you want it. So I'm like, OK. Then, during the test drive, I happen to mention that I've already been approved for a loan by my bank and it's like ... screeeeeeeech. Me: approved. Other lady: not yet approved. The car goes to: ME.

I bring this up only because ...

My friend: Are you SURE you want this car?
Me: Why? Should I get another car?
Friend: I mean THIS car.
Me: What do you MEAN this car?
Friend: I mean, they can get the same thing sent here, maybe even by the end of the day.
Me: Why would I do that if they already HAVE it here?
Friend: Because.
Me: Because WHY?
Friend (looks around and whispers): Because of that lady.
Me (just look at him)
Friend: Seriously.
Me: What, was she, like, SCARY or something?
Friend: A little bit.
Me: You think she's gonna, like, HUNT me DOWN?
Friend (very serious whisper): Maybe.

I decide to take my chances with the potentially pissed-off, scary woman and agree to buy the car. Now I have to sign the paperwork. This is the part that's SUPPOSED to be easy, because of the whole thing with my dad's work. There's a set price for the car, which I've already researched. The only haggling is over extras and financing.

OK. Let me just tell you. That took FIVE HOURS over TWO DAYS. The finance guy was an ASSHOLE. I guess they are sort of paid to be assholes, but I mean, come on, I am blonde and I am giggly but I am not a complete and total idiot. First we fight over the trade-in value of my car. I LOOKED at the blue book trade-in value. I KNOW what my car is worth. So finally I say, forget it, I'll take it somewhere else, and he caves and gives me what I'm asking. Then he tries to tell me I should finance through them because they can offer me a lower interest rate. "Is that guaranteed?" I say. Um ... no, he replies. Then he tells me I qualify for extra incentives too if I finance through them. Fine, I say, give me all the numbers and I'll go home and look them over and come back tomorrow. Of course he's not down with that. So around and around we go.

I go back this morning and decide, OK, I'll finance through them. Except ... guess what? One of the incentives has magically disappeared! And, oh, yeah, there's an extra $500 fee folded in for something I didn't approve! I was like, ix-nay on the 500 bucks, and I'm going outside to call my accountant (my dad) now, thanks. So I call my dad, and then I call my bank, and then I call my dad back again, and then I call my bank and in the meantime the finance guy is SO PISSED OFF AT ME, I cannot even tell you. Even my friend was like, whoa, he is pissed. But I was like forget it, let him be mad, this is a HUGE MASSIVE DECISION and I'm never gonna see him again anyway. Which is great progress for me, since I HATE having people mad at me, but on the inside I was still a big old ball of stress because we're talking about a FIVE-DIGIT PURCHASE and my idea of a really big purchase is a $50 pair of pants I can return the next day.

Anyway. I go in, tell him I'm going with the nice, patient people at my bank (WHY? he asks. BECAUSE, I say), and all I need to do is log in to my account and approve the amount. So after he kicks and screams about me using his precious computer and his precious Internet, I go to approve the loan and promptly freak out because it still says $50,000 (my pre-approval amount), which is not even CLOSE to what I am spending. So I excuse myself again to call my bank to make sure they don't need to update the amount, and the finance guy's head basically explodes all over the room.

The happy ending: The bank people talked me down from my ledge, the paperwork went through easy-breezy, the finance guy did not kill me, the scary lady has not yet hunted me down, and oh, yes, I have a pretty new car. WITH SATELLITE RADIO. Yay!

Now I just have to get myself moved ...

Did I mention how much I love moving?

2008-10-06T00:58:00.003-04:00

No? Really? Maybe because I HATE IT WITH A FIERY WHITE-HOT PASSION. That might be the reason I haven't mentioned it.

Actually, I'm not going to make this an "I hate moving" post, because I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for one (or more) of those in the next two weeks. (I move next week. NEXT WEEK. Friday, I think. IS THAT NOT INSANE? I agree. It IS insane.)

This is the stuff I've been trying to do/figure out lately:

* Whether I should take a pre-move trip out to look at apartments. Originally, I was like, yes, totally, of course I'm going to. But my background check took longer than usual because of my old company moving, and then my relocation coordinator--who I'm supposed to schedule everything through--was out with strep throat for a week (which I only found out after she came back to work and my zillion messages). So I just got the ball rolling on that whole thing a few days ago, and I'm supposed to start work on the 20th, so I'm like ... forget it, I'd rather get stuff done here than fly out there and maybe find a place to live, maybe not. (I can live in temporary housing there, which I would probably do anyway, so it's not the end of the world ... I don't think.)

* Whether I should drive out or fly out. They're like, OK, we'll fly you out and ship your car and get you a rental until it gets there. Which sounds great, except of course then neurotic me is like, WAIT! What about my houseplants? WAIT! How am I supposed to pack a MONTH'S worth of stuff into a couple of suitcases? (Because whatever I don't take goes into storage until I get out of temp housing.) So then I'm like, forget it, I'm driving ... but THEN I'm like, I would have to leave AT LEAST a day earlier, and do I REALLY want to drive alone halfway across the country when I'm a COMPLETE EMOTIONAL WRECK? My friend Allee says my plants will be fine and I believe her because she is smart about that kind of thing, and I can always send myself a box of extra things I might need ... right?

* What to do about my mail. I think I've decided to forward it to my new work until I know where I'm going to live (as opposed to a P.O. box or whatever), but ... I don't know. I hate making that decision, because I am very possessive of my mail and I don't want people even GLANCING at my People magazine before I look at it, and mail can sometimes be kind of personal, which makes me sound like I order naughty things and I SO DO NOT but you know what I mean, and what if stuff gets lost and ... did I mention that I'm neurotic? I know.

* Buying a new car. Yes, I am buying a new car before I leave, because ... well, because of this, this and this, and I don't need that kind of drama in a state where I don't know anyone who will take pity on me and come pick me up as I'm swearing and kicking my tires on the side of the road. My dad gets a deal on a bunch of different cars through his work, so that helps narrow it down, but OH, THE DECISIONS! I test-drove cars for like four hours on Saturday and tonight I went to two more dealers and peeked through the windows of different cars with a flashlight (oh, yes, I did). That's a good decision to have to make, so I'm not complaining, but ohhh, I can make myself crazy with all the little details.

* That means I had to clean out my current car so I can trade it in, and umm ... my car is (was) disgusting. It looks great now but it took forever and half the contents are strewn about my hallway as I type, just in time for ....

* The lady to come survey my apartment to make sure it's really only going to take one day to pack. (It will. As long as I throw out the 18 TONS of STUPID CRAP I've accumulated. I save EVERYTHING. WHY, I ask you, do I have every gas receipt from the past five years? Why do I have an entire basket of Happy Meal toys? Why do I have mountains of sticky notes full of phone numbers that are no longer even in SERVICE?) I'm trying to go through stuff before she gets here so I look like I have it together better than I do.

And ... that's about it. Is that an "I hate moving" post? Maybe. I will write something fun tomorrow, I promise. (Or SCARY. Like the story I have about the CREEPIEST GUY EVER.) Fun or scary ... kinda sounds like moving, huh?

Harder to breathe

2008-10-01T00:30:00.002-04:00

(Oh, how I love when the double-meaning title just writes itself!)

Ohhhh, goodness. Hi, you guys. I know I promised I wouldn't disappear when I got stressed but ... apparently I lied. I didn't mean to lie, though! I'm sorry. Things have been a little intense around here, and I was going to write about it but thinking about it is making me not be able to breathe a little bit, so I'm not gonna, at least not tonight. It's all moving stuff and life stuff and ... you know.

Anyway! On to other things. I have this totally, totally great group of friends here. It's a little weird, though, because three of them have moved in the past couple of months, all at the same time, and now I'm moving, so we have to be all strategic and creative about getting together now. One of my friends had a birthday last week, so we decided to plan something around that. (The girls who moved all moved within a few hours' drive, so THAT part is good, at least. I'm the only one moving HALFWAY ACROSS THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY. Sigh.)

So anyway, they drove in to meet the rest of us and we got to play a little. We went to one of those bead places to make earrings, and my friend was like, hey, we should each make six pairs of earrings so we can all take home a pair from everyone! I was like, oh, my gosh, that's genius. I totally felt like a kid getting a goody bag at a birthday party.

Can you guess which ones I made? I'll give you a hint: they're my least favorite. I totally could not decide which beads to use and I think everyone else's turned out way cuter. My future as a jewelry designer: over before it even started. Boo.

After we did that, we went to dinner, and THEN we went to a Counting Crows-Maroon 5 concert. It was SO FUN! I am always happy to see Counting Crows. August and Everything After is one of my favorite albums ever, and they're pretty good live. But Adam, oh, Adam. I have never seen a man who needs a hug (and another Jack and Coke) more than Adam Duritz during a concert. I guess I would be melancholy too if I'd unsuccessfully dated both Jennifer Aniston AND Courteney Cox. (Both of them! That never fails to amaze me.)

We missed the opening act, Augustana, but they came out and performed a bit with Counting Crows. I LOVE their lead singer. He is just the cutest thing ever with his cute little hats and his cute little voice.

And Maroon 5! LET ME JUST TELL YOU. I know that Adam Levine is a complete manwhore. I've read the Rolling Stone interview, I've heard the stories, and if he'd been obnoxious, I would not have been one bit surprised. But listen to me. That man is SEX ON A STICK. At the exact same moment, when he started singing a cover of Wicked Game, my friend and I turned to each other and were like, "I TOTALLY GET IT NOW." He is incredibly, incredibly hot when he's performing, and charming, too. I totally and completely would, and so would every single one of you, I guarantee it. It was one of the best concerts I've ever seen.

And, of course, it wouldn't have been a night out without a little stalkerazzi-ing. This couple in front of us was laying on top of each other under a mess of blankets, going to town, so you know we had to take a picture.

I'd blame the sexpertise of Adam Levine, but he wasn't even on stage yet. Did they see the flash go off in their faces? Yes, they did. Did it faze them? Not one bit.

French fry, Quarter Pounder or Big Mac?

2008-09-24T00:38:00.005-04:00

Sooooo. I'm driving home the other night, it's like 12:30 a.m., and I'm like, I kind of want some McDonald's french fries. So I pull into the drive-thru at the 24-hour McD's, and as I'm placing my order I see this kid running down the hill toward a bunch of office buildings. I'm like, hmm, random. But, you know, whatever.

I pull around to the window and hand the guy my money. He's kind of looking past me, and he doesn't reach for the money right away, so I'm like, "I'm sorry ... am I supposed to pull up to the next window?" And then he kind of snaps out of it and goes, no, no, I'm sorry, it's just that this COMPLETELY NAKED GUY just ran up here and took some food, and that other guy started chasing him. And I'm like, whoa, whoa, back up ... a naked WHAT did WHAT?

Yeah. Naked dude comes out of nowhere, snatches the bag as they're handing it out the window, and runs off. And then, NATURALLY, instead of just reordering their food, the boys in front of me have to jump out of their car and chase him.

(I mean, really. What were they planning to do when they caught him? They think they're reaching for an apple pie, and they come back with ... who KNOWS what?)

Of course I start laughing so hard I think I might die. I pull up to the next window, where everyone inside is completely losing it.

Me: So ... I hear you guys are having an exciting night.
Guy at window: UNBELIEVABLE. He was COMPLETELY naked and just appeared out of nowhere. Fastest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.
Me (laughing): No way.
Guy: Yeah. He came last week, too, same time and everything.
Me: Wait, wait, WAIT a second! He came LAST week and took a bag of food, too?
Guy: Yeah, same time. We got him on video this time, though. We're gonna come up with a plan to catch him.

A plan! They're gonna hatch a plan to catch the McDonald's streaker! I would just LOVE to see the police lineup for that one. (Do you dare me and my camera to go back next week at the same time? I might dare myself.)

It's the most wonderful time of the year

2008-09-21T04:43:00.018-04:00

Oh, how I love a good awards show. My favorite is the Golden Globes, but right behind it is the Emmys, which means I'm a giddy girl right about now. In the grand tradition of my little blog (see: here and here), I'll be live-blogging later during the red carpet and awards, so please stop by and chime in if you feel so inclined. It'll be one big cyber Emmy party!

A few pre-Emmy thoughts/predictions ...

* I am pretty sure it's going to be a Mad Men year (much to my friend's chagrin: "No one even WATCHES that show!" he keeps saying. "ONE MILLION viewers. Arrested Development had SIX." He does have a point.) Anyway, I've watched Mad Men a little bit ... it's OK, January Jones is great, but I can't get into it. It's too slow, too depressing, too something. But I still think it'll win best drama. (If I were queen of Emmy land, I'd give it to Dexter.)

* On the comedy side, I totally think it will be all 30 Rock. Best comedy, best actor (Alec Baldwin), best actress (Tina Fey). (If you haven't seen this clip from the episode Alec Baldwin submitted, go watch it, you will totally laugh.)

* I totally want Michael C. Hall to win best actor in a drama. I don't think he will (anybody but James Spader, PLEASE), but I hope he does.

* When I first heard the reality host nominees were going to be hosting, I was like, BAD IDEA, but actually, I take it back. I really like three of them (Jeff Probst, Ryan Seacrest, Tom Bergeron, who all have hosted live shows well) and Howie Mandel is fine. I'm not very excited about seeing Heidi Klum try to host--I'd let her just sit on the side and look pretty for most of it--but whatever. I actually think they'll do a pretty good job. DON'T MAKE ME REGRET SAYING THAT, GUYS!

OK ... see you in a few hours!

**********

All right! Red carpet time!

5:12: Ryan Seacrest! Kathy Griffin! Red carpet hilarity! It's ensuing! Kathy just informed Ryan that Josh Groban gets more tail than he does. And now she just called Ryan a manwhore. The Emmy love, it is in the air.

5:15: They seriously expect me to listen to Rainn Wilson wax on about surburban America when there's a very dapper-looking (yes, dapper-looking!) David Boreanaz to gaze at? Rainn is funny, but David IS wearing a tux. A nicely-filled-out one.

5:24: I can't believe Mariska Hargitay is pulling off that yellow dress! Gosh, she is gorgeous.

5:31: Ditto Debra Messing. Sigh. I'm going to eat some more chips and salsa now.

5:36: I know that no one is ever allowed to say America Ferrera looks bad because she's the poster girl for non-cookie-cutter women in Hollywood ... but I don't think I'm feeling it tonight! I was busy eating chips and salsa, though, so I might need another look.

5:54: When my sister was little, she used to twirl her hair--wrap it in big loops around her fingers, over and over, until it was one tangled mess. That is what Mary Louise Parker's hair looks like right now.

6:35: OK, I just made guacamole. Michael C. Hall! Love him! Giuliana asked him if he wrote down a speech just in case, and I went on my awards show rant, which, in a nutshell is: Why on earth would actors, who memorize pages and pages of dialogue, need a piece of paper to remind them of the names of the most important people in their lives? I hate that. I am a mere blogger, and I bet I could rattle off a semi-coherent speech if someone handed me an Emmy right now.

6:37: You are NOT private about your personal life, Brad Garrett! You did an ONLINE DATING CONTEST to find women! I read about it in People magazine AND I saw it on The View! Seacrest, CALL HIM OUT ON THAT!

6:39: Did Brad Garrett make a joke about meeting her at Sarah Palin's vibrator party? I totally missed that.

6:47: The room is officially freaking out at how different Malcolm in the Middle's dad looks. (He might be nominated for Breaking Bad, but he'll always be Malcolm in the Middle's dad to me!) Is that a mustache on him or excess self-tanner? I can't decide.

7:04: I love Oprah as much as the next girl, but I didn't really get the point of that.

7:09: I might have to take back what I said about the hosts. What WAS that?

7:10: Look, nobody liked the opening, but Jeremy Piven! Catty, catty! Jean Smart ... classy!

7:25: My friend swears Eva Longoria is pregnant. I don't know, but I do know she has the best dress in a BAD lineup of Desperate Housewife dresses.

7:39: Please, please, please can Steve Carell and Ricky Gervais host together next year? Puhhhlease?

8:20: I haven't said anything in a while. There is nothing to say. There is only guacamole to eat.

9:42: Bryan Cranston's mustache: real. I think.

9:45: Are they serious? They're really going to commercial before they announce the reality host winner? They ARE serious!

9:51: I am glad that Jeff Probst won. I would also like to point out that Probst managed to give a very nice and articulate speech WITHOUT THE HELP OF A PIECE OF PAPER.

9:57: 30 Rock is cleaning up. Tina Fey can do no wrong right now, I swear. She could drive a semi truck through the front door of the White House and all of America would be like, oh, that Tina Fey!

10:02: And Mad Men wins. And then there's me, left wondering yet again why I can't parlay these Emmy-watching and predicting skills into something lucrative. Sigh.

I hope there are gas stations there

2008-09-18T00:59:00.003-04:00

Thank you so, SO much for all of your nice comments. They made me laugh and they made me cry and, yes, I know that's cliche but it's also totally true. You guys are so totally the best, and I have little daydreams in my head all the time of throwing a big, huge party that somehow all of you can come to. I really might try it one day, just you wait and see.

Well, in Decision '08 news ... it looks like I'm moving next month. I'm not really entirely comfortable with the whole thing yet, and part of me still hasn't committed, at least not emotionally. But I gave them an answer and that answer was yes, so either way, things will start to get really interesting around here. Either I'll have a total meltdown and tell them I changed my mind and then have ANOTHER meltdown, or I'll have a million and one horrific yet amusing-in-a-sick-kinda-way moving stories to tell. Wheeee!

Over the weekend, I was talking to a bunch of my friends and one of them mentioned how observant I am--like, if someone were to describe me, that probably would be one of the adjectives they'd use. Well, OK, there probably would be several others, but it's true, I do notice a lot of things, and I think it surprises people because usually very observant people are quieter and I'm like, blah blah blah, talk talk talk all day long. Anyway, I was talking to her again last night and she said she'd come up with a theory about why it's so hard for me to make big decisions. She said because I'm so observant, all of the details of all the options are really clear to me and it gets overwhelming. I was like, oh! That makes sense, huh?

Orrrrrrr ... I'm just neurotic. Either/or. But it does make sense!

In fact, I'm going to tell you a story now about something I observed the other day. I stop to get gas. It's like 10:30 at night, and a black Explorer pulls up next to me. The music is blaring, the bass is pumping, and the driver, a guy in his 20s, sits in the car, tapping the wheel, bouncing his head with the beat, for several minutes until the song is over.

OK, pop quiz of the day: Who was he listening to? Go on, guess. Jay-Z, Kanye West, hell, Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks?

Nope. Guess again. Justin Timberlake, Beyonce ...

OK, never mind. I'm just going to tell you. He was listening to ... the Cheers theme song. THE CHEERS THEME SONG! "Sometimes you want to go, where everyboddddddy knows your naaaaaaaame. And they're alwaaaaaays glad you caaaaaaame." Yes. THAT Cheers theme song. And, I mean, not just listening to it. ROCKING to it. REVELING in it. By himself, at a gas station, in the dead of night.

It's almost strangely poignant, in a way. ALMOST.

Freaking out a little

2008-09-14T23:23:00.002-04:00

(Mildly serious, "I'm in the throes of an existential crisis" post to follow.)

All right. So you remember all the drama of this and this, otherwise known as "Swishy blows up her life in an idealistic but hopefully not ill-fated quest for something more." I have been feeling pretty guilty I haven't written more about it the past couple of months. The reason is, while it's been empowering and proactive and all that great stuff, it's also been much, MUCH harder than I thought it would be and sometimes it's hard for me to talk about or explain. There have been some days where I've been completely good and a lot of days where I've cried and cried. It's less about not having opportunities and more about having too many, maybe. And it's definitely about me and my personality and how absolutely, gut-wrenchingly hard it is for me to let go of things, including the "perfect" scenarios I have in my head. I'm probably one of the most sensitive people I know, definitely the most sentimental, and ughhhh I swear I make things harder on myself sometimes because of it.

Anyway. I have been spending some time writing, which in some ways was sort of the whole point of this little adventure, and it's been challenging but rewarding and hopefully will become even more rewarding someday. I also have been looking for a new job, and I got a very good offer a couple of days ago. It's with a very large media company (and when I say very large, I mean VERY, as in every single one of you has heard of it). It's a good company, it's good financially, total job security, nice people, lots of room and encouragement to move up and grow. Which is all big, especially in this economy. Buuuut (there's always a but, isn't there?) ... it's not quite the perfect job (it's a little more money but a little less responsibility than I'm used to) and it's not quite the perfect location (a thousand miles away, in a city that feels TOTALLY random to me). I can make them both OK in my head ... a little less responsibility gives me a little more time to work on other long-term stuff I want to do, and I get into a massive company that promises I'll be able to move around, one that has massive sister companies I also could work for someday. The location itself isn't perfect, but it's close to a lot of places that ARE good, and it's not necessarily permanent. And blah blah blah.

The point is, even though it's a great opportunity and I'm very grateful to have it, it's another leap. And I sort of knew that quitting my job wasn't the only leap I was going to have to make, but ohhh, I HATE leaping. HATE IT!

I love my friends. I love my apartment. I love my cute little coffee shop. I love where I work out. I love that finally, FINALLY, I can drive in all directions and not get lost. When I moved here, I had been here once in my life (on my 24-hour interview, most of which was spent either at the airport or the office) and did not know one single solitary person in the whole city. I was young and STUPID and it was all a little bit of a nightmare, at least for the first year or so. It is HARD to move somewhere by yourself, especially to a place where you don't know anybody. I sort of think everyone should do it once, because it really does "build character" or whatever dumb cliche you want to use, but it is definitely not in the "fun" column of things to do in your lifetime.

But then I'm like, OK, I learned from the last time, it doesn't have to be like that again. I totally went on all those stupid websites that list book clubs and restaurant clubs and cooking clubs, and I swear to you I'd go to every single one of them and make you read about every single socially inept person there. I'd take my sewing machine out of the box and finally learn how to make potholders. I'd knit a scarf, and work out all the time, and watch every single new show on TV. And, you know, go to work occasionally. So ... it'd be OK, right?

But it's not the same. And the same is what drove me crazy sometimes, but the same can also be sort of nice, especially when you're scared to death of change and of doing the wrong thing.

I sound schizophrenic, don't I? I feel a little schizophrenic. Anyway, don't get me wrong, it's very exciting, but you know, it's stressful. Then again, I feel like the last decade of my life has been stressful, so maybe that is just life as a grown-up.

You have to promise me one thing, though. I promise I won't pull any disappearing acts when I'm stressed if you promise you'll be patient while I drag my angsty little self through the next few months. I will try to be funny and positive, I promise, but no matter what, I will totally totally totally need you guys. Otherwise I might, like, accost the guy in the coffee shop with hugs and tears and, really, I don't need to add a mental hospital or jail stay to the mix right now. I've got to save SOMETHING for '09, right?

At least it doesn't land on my balcony

2008-09-11T00:59:00.011-04:00

(Quick aside: All right, I know I said that Russell Brand was unfunny on the VMAs, and he was, VERY unfunny. But he redeemed himself last night on Craig Ferguson. I would watch a reality show starring the two of them, yes, I would, and bask in the fluorescent glow of laughter and fantastic European accents. My favorite part, Russell on surfing: "It's unnatural! Who looks out at a big, blue, wavy ocean and says, 'Ooh, I'd like to stand on that'? It's cheeky!" IT'S CHEEKY, he says. Ha ha ha.)

Anyway, on to bigger (not really) and better (definitely not) topics. A very disturbing trend has emerged at Casa Swishy the past few months (yes, MONTHS). Every single night, at the very same time, my neighbor goes out onto his balcony. He goes out there and, very loudly, very showily, hacks up phlegm and blows snot out of his nose and engages in whatever other disgusting bronchial activities he can think of. It is vile and disgusting and you KNOW I had to sneak outside and tape it to share with all of you.

(Forget it. The stupid, stupid file won't convert right, so while the video works--big freaking deal, it was dark outside and I was being sneaky so you can't see anything anyway--the audio does not. Use your fantastic imaginations while I take out my frustrations on my computer, kitchen utensils or, perhaps, the phlegm-spewing neighbor himself.)

Anyway. It is disgusting, and one night I said as much. I was in my bedroom and the window was open and I was cranky, maybe even crying, I don't remember, but I was definitely cranky, and he was making that gross phlegmy sound over and over and finally I turned toward the window and yelled, "THAT'S DISGUSTING!" And then I buried my head under a pillow all scared, as if he could see me through the closed blinds. There was this long pause, this quiet pause fraught with phlegmy tension, and then I heard him say, "What?" And then I decided the pillow wasn't protection enough so I ran and half-hid under the bed instead.

I don't understand. This isn't a cold. This isn't an exceptionally bad run of allergies. This is ... just gross. He's out there doing it again, right this very second. I know. If I just ruined your bowl of Cheerios, I'm sorry.

I will never get those hours back, EVER

2008-09-08T00:59:00.004-04:00

I love awards shows. If they had an awards show for, I don't know, toilet bowl-cleaning and toenail-picking, I'd be all, pass the popcorn! Hand me the JuJuBees!

But, oh, oh, OH! MY! GOSH! What a freaking debacle the VMAs were this year. Last year was a train wreck, but at least a train wreck is mildly entertaining in a sick "wait ... is that a body part? it IS a body part!" sort of way. There was NO entertainment value, morbid or otherwise, in this show. ZERO. It was horrible. And yes, I watched the whole thing, and no, I don't really care to reflect on what that says about me as a person. Let's just focus on the horrible terribleness that was the VMAs.

* Russell Brand = not funny. AT ALL. I'm not a stingy person when it comes to laughs, but I did not laugh once. And I WANTED to laugh! I did! I liked his commercials! Plus everything is at least 10 percent funnier/more clever/generally more awesome when said with a British accent, so he had that going for him, too. All he had to do was be funny! Just a little!

* Michael Phelps might look good in a Speedo but, oh, my goodness, is he going to be terrible on SNL this weekend.

* Kanye West ... what in the hell WAS that? I mean, really, can someone please tell me what that was? Also, please feel free to explain the flashing red heart on his lapel, because I don't get that either.

* Why was Christina Aguilera trying to be Britney Spears in that performance? Why would she lip-synch when she sounds good live? And the cameltoe? WHY, Christina, WHY?

* Britney's big comeback, the one that was going to propel her back into the pop culture elite, the one that--this is a real quote--was her "opportunity to start over again," was a 90-second skit with Jonah Hill at the beginning followed by her 15-second introduction of Rihanna? SERIOUSLY? Not even a tiny little bit of a performance? A duet? Anything? Maybe they were referring to the three, count 'em, THREE awards she won for a video no one saw. NICE FIX, MTV. Do you think we're stupid? WE'RE NOT STUPID!

Why do I even care. Why do I even care. I don't care. Not really. But seriously. The Hills and The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. Those are the only two things MTV has going for it anymore. Sigh. I do SO love The Hills.

My very guiltiest guilty pleasure

2008-09-04T03:32:00.002-04:00

(Unrelated side note: I really, really, I mean REALLY want to write about politics, especially the role of women--Michelle Obama, Sarah Palin, Bristol Palin, Hillary Clinton--in the election, but that requires a little more thought and editing than I am capable of coming up with at this hour, so maybe later. Or maybe no one cares. But you should care! I am fascinated, absolutely fascinated I tell you, by this hot mess of an election. I LOVE AMERICA! Even if I hate sexism! But for now, another thing I love ...)

I don't read Nicholas Sparks books, I don't watch Jane Austen movies, I don't listen to Journey and, oh, yeah, I've never done online dating a day in my life. But I LOVE eHarmony commercials. If I'm in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal and I hear an eHarmony commercial, I will drop that carton of milk right on the floor and rush into the living room to watch. If I'm in the bathroom cleaning the toilet and I hear an eHarmony commercial, you better believe that toilet brush will be bobbing in the water for the next 29 seconds. EVERY TIME. Considering the number of hours Bravo is playing in my house, and the apparently very lucrative deal eHarmony has with Bravo, that all means one thing: a hell of a lot of eHarmony commercials, a nasty toilet brush and a lot of spilled milk.

My favorite couple is Lee and Anne Marie. I'm sure you know them, they like to bowl and clap and twirl together down nondescript city streets. I hope Lee and Anne Marie never break up. I'm totally serious. I love them. I hope they have cute little kids and a cute little life and invite me to their golden anniversary party.

I was looking for the video to embed here, and I realized two very curious things: eHarmony does not let people embed its videos, and it does not let people comment on its videos. Doesn't eHarmony have any faith in its message of love and compatibility? Is it worried that people who don't believe in bowling and clapping and twirling will spew their cynicism all over that message of love and compatibility? I thought love triumphed over all, eHarmony!

And then I glanced over at the "related videos" and I saw one more curious thing: a video alleging that eHarmony includes subliminal messages in its commercials. Subliminal messages like: "I have to have sex."

Subliminal messages?!?! In my beloved eHarmony commercials? COULD THAT BE THE REAL REASON I LOVE THEM?

Hmm. I better go watch again, just to see.

Gossip girls

2008-08-30T00:59:00.005-04:00

So I get home the other day, go to get my mail and ... FUN!!! A package from Beth!

Fun fact: Beth was one of the very first people to read my blog, which was an especially big deal because I didn't really tell anyone I knew that I had a blog. I seriously thought it was the coolest thing ever that she randomly found it one day and then kept coming back. It's been two years now, and I just adore her.

Anyway, I was super excited to get her fun bag in the mail. She made it herself and it's adorable, in colors that I love, with a cute little pocket on the inside. And she even included a Star magazine! But not just any Star magazine, ohhhhh no. I got into bed, opened it up ... and found that Beth had left me little notes inside! So it was almost like we were sitting and gossiping together! Oh, my gosh, I laughed so hard I almost woke up the entire neighborhood.

So let's gossip a little, shall we?

OK, on Jake Gyllenhaal she writes, "LOOK AT HIS PECS! Is he for real? Do you think he's gay?"

I have no idea. What I DO know is that he needs to cut that hair NOW. I am definitely not a fan of the long-haired look on him. I am a fan of the pecs, however, I have to say.

And then we have Michael Phelps ("Freakishly long body! But he has a cute little lisp.") and Chace Crawford ("Gay!!!"), which allows me to bust out my little "degrees of separation" fact of the day: Apparently, Michael Phelps (who, allegedly, is the biggest manwhore who ever whored ... I guess that's what eight golds gets you) is going on a date with Carrie Underwood, former girlfriend of (ta-da!) Chace Crawford.

And speaking of Carrie Underwood, who also formerly dated Tony Romo, we have Tony's CURRENT girlfriend, Jessica Simpson:

My People magazine is late this week, but apparently this week's cover story is Jessica gushing about how Tony Romo is the love of her life and how (this part kills me) she doesn't "really ever say that to anybody." Really, Jessica? Your boyfriend is the only one you call the love of your life? I'm stunned. I mean, there's the mailman, the FedEx guy, the guy who walks the neighbor's dog, the dude who plays the banjo on the street corner ...

That reminds me of another headline I saw recently on People.com, something like, "Vanessa Minnillo: Nick said 'I love you' first." I was like, really? REALLY? THAT'S A HEADLINE??? Yes, my friends, even I have standards. Which perhaps is not the greatest segue to our next photo, but ...

OK, I COMPLETELY AGREE. I thought the same exact thing when I saw the commercial for Meg's new movie. She looks 10 years younger than she did five years ago. Maybe she has a hot younger boyfriend. I hear that has a similar effect.

Of Britney, she writes: "She's looking good but she needs to stay away from men!" FOR. REAL. Any time something happens with Britney, I don't blame K-Fed, I don't blame Jason "Don't call me Constanza" Alexander. I blame Justin Timberlake. The second they broke up, it was like someone broke the lever on her happy little carousel of life and it's been spinning like crazy ever since.

She is looking good, though. And I do like her VMA commercial.

"Beth's future baby daddy." NOT IF I GET HIM FIRST! Oh, but wait ...

"I think he dumped Jen so he's free for Swishy! Will I see you in the Star next week?"

Page 39. I am just saying.

Things that make me go hmmm

2008-08-26T00:55:00.004-04:00

So I was looking around while I was waiting in line at Target today because, I mean, what else are you going to do while you wait in line at Target? The guy in front of me opens his wallet, and I notice the entire thing is lined with photos ... OF HIMSELF. With numerous expressions and poses. With no one in them but him.

OK, in fairness, I am less of a "wallet" girl and more of a "change purse" girl, so the whole concept of carrying around photos isn't really high on my radar. But is that normal? Photos of yourself? Of JUST yourself? Yes, he's decent-looking, and yes, they are decent photos, but still. That isn't normal. Is it?

I decide that it's not. So, naturally, I have to take a picture RIGHT THIS SECOND before he closes his wallet and takes his receipt and walks his photo-loving self out of my life forever.

What follows is the most daring, smoothly executed shot of my paparazzo/secret agent/stalker career. (MUCH more seamless, for example, than this time or this time.) I reach into my purse, turn on my camera, hit the right button twice to turn off the flash, and evvvvvvver so subtly lift the camera out of my purse just long enough to take the picture.

And she gets off the shot! Undetected! In a line at Target!

Yes, I am a rock star. Of course, you can't really see the Wall(et) of Photos, so some cropping is in order.

OK, so you can still only see one of the pictures. But TRUST ME. There are like three more right next to it.

This lady dropped her stuff on the way out and he stopped to help her, so I don't THINK he's a self-absorbed narcissist. Is he a gigolo? Is his number printed on the other side, like a business card? Is he a model/actor/waiter, and those are all mini-head shots? Did he used to be missing, and those are the photos from the milk carton? Did he get a set of playing cards made with his face on the back? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?

The day my brain fell out of my head

2008-08-21T00:38:00.004-04:00

So I realize I haven't talked a ton about the whole "life reboot" thing. I will soon, I promise. Right now, though, I am flying to a fairly big interview, which, if the getting-there is any indication, should be a spectacular success ... I mean, disaster. (Background: I had a bad morning. I was not at my finest, there were tears, it all apparently resulted in me going about the rest of my day behaving as if someone suctioned every last particle of brain matter out of my ears.)

So I go to the airport. I walk in and go straight to the self-service kiosk at the United counter. I throw my suitcase up on the scale, type in my confirmation number with one hand and pull out my driver's license with the other hand like the skilled, experienced traveler that I am. Nothing. I type in the confirmation number again. Nothing. I exit out of the system and try swiping my credit card. Nope. Finally, several tries later, I stop being stubborn and hit the "Ask for assistance" button. It tells me to pick up the phone next to the screen (because, clearly, asking the person standing behind the counter, waiting to give me my luggage claim ticket, makes too much sense). I give the person who answers the phone my flight number and departure city and ...

Did I say I was at the United counter? Apparently I'm flying US Airways.

I run away before a live and in-the-flesh person can see what an idiot I am and head over to the US Airways counter. I pull up my reservation and am informed by the computer that I must now swipe my credit card to pay a $15 fee for my SINGLE CHECKED BAG. I had heard this filthy, nasty rumor, this scary little urban legend, and now it is staring me smack-dab in the face. I'm sorry, I'm a girl. There is no possible way on God's green earth I can pack a single carry-on bag for a 48-hour trip. I use hair products! I like to smell good! And just because an outfit looks good today doesn't mean it will look good tomorrow! I need backups! Like six of them!

I want to put my hand on my hip and give US Airways a piece of my mind, but somehow I get the impression the computer screen will remain unfazed. "Does this mean you won't LOSE MY BAG?" I want to ask. "Does this extra 15 dollars mean my lotion isn't going to wind up all over the inside of my suitcase after some overzealous security officer forgets to close it after rifling through my underwear looking for a bomb?"

I seriously think at the very least I shouldn't have to wheel it over to the X-ray machine myself, but of course that is not the case.

I buy a USA Today and sit down at my gate. Good, I think, the flight's not going to be too crowded. Maybe I'll even get my own row! I call my friend while I open the paper and ...

Me: What the HELL! No Life section?!
Friend: What?
Me: I just got a freaking USA Today and there's no freaking Life section. What, I'm supposed to read the Money section? This day SUCKS. I HATE this day.
Friend: Actually, the Life section's IN the Money section this week. Because of the Olympics.
Me: It's ... (page through Money section until I see the pretty purple "Life" bar). Oh.
Friend: So when are you leaving?
Me: I don't know, soon. I think it boards in like 15 minutes or something.

I hang up. I spread out my Life section and start reading about Gossip Girl fashion when ...

"Paging passenger Swishy (garbled, can't hear it, blah blah blah), paging passenger Swishy ..."

Shit, I think. Did my wallet fall out of my bag? I check, and it's there. My phone? No ... still holding it. Did someone DIE?! I wonder. I get up and go to the counter: "Hi ... I think I just got paged and I'm not sure why."

The two girls start cracking up. "You were just sitting over there?"
"Um ... yeah ..."
"Everyone boarded already. Like, awhile ago." The girl giggles. "You are so funny!"

Oh, yes. I am soooo hilarious. That's what I always tell myself when I act like a complete moron in public. I throw my boarding pass at them and race down the jetway. It's a small plane, so I have to literally, like, go down the narrow little steps and walk over to the plane. I'm all flustered and trying to hurry so, naturally, I walk over to the wrong side and almost crash into the nose of the plane before being steered in the right direction by one of those orange-stick-waving guys.

And then I get on the plane (I promise, there was very nearly applause), reach up to turn off the air and totally tear off a nail. Not as in "I broke a nail." More like a "I think someone just cut off my finger and HOLY SHIT THIS HURTS, I'M GOING TO BE MAIMED FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, PLEASE SOMEONE JUST HIT ME OVER THE HEAD AND PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY BECAUSE SUCKING ON MY FINGER LIKE AMY WINEHOUSE ON A CRACK PIPE ISN'T WORKING" kind of thing.

Now we're getting ready to take off. (By the way, complete non-sequitur, but it costs two bucks now to get a drink? Of WATER, even? I don't even get a drink half the time because I firmly refuse to use airplane bathrooms, but it's the PRINCIPLE. I can go to 7-11 and get a Big Gulp for 99 cents but I can't get WATER on an AIRPLANE? What kind of country are we LIVING in?)

Anyway. So, yes, I'm on the plane. The guy in front of me is IMing a girl named Laura on his BlackBerry. Laura works with a total bitch who is completely threatened by everyone around her. I get the sense the bitch in question is her boss. Behind me, there is a little love affair blooming. He works in banking. She's worked at the Animal Kingdom at Disney World for 25 years. If anyone can make it work, I think, it's these two crazy kids. As long as they survive the stupid, silly girl sitting in front of them, that is.

Music, schmusic

2008-08-15T12:11:00.006-04:00

My (very) guilty pleasure summer songs:

Shake it, Metro Station. I basically have a seizure whenever this song comes on. I turn it up super, super loud and start "dancing" in random, jerky movements all over the place while "singing" it at the top of my lungs. The other drivers I pass on the street love it, as do my downstairs neighbors, I have no doubt.

(Please, if you click on that link, do yourself a favor: minimize the video immediately and just listen to the song. They're singing about how they'll take you home if you don't leave them at the front door, and seriously, I know they're TECHNICALLY of age, but they don't look a day over 12. Also, they're wearing, like, tight red pants, which is almost as creepy. Also, the video is completely stupid. And now I've completely talked myself out of liking the song. Not really.)

One Step at a Time, Jordin Sparks. I blame Chris Brown and No Air for this one. I love that song, which opened the door just enough for Miss Jordin to stick in her green-heeled foot and snare me with her peppy message of girl power.

Leavin', Jesse McCartney. I'm officially mortified. I'm also, by the looks of this list, an 11-year-old girl who watches Hannah Montana. I think it's time to move on to ...

Not-so-guilty pleasure summer songs:

Ten Dead Dogs, Wild Sweet Orange. This isn't quite a summer song, but I like it right now, and right now it's summer, so it counts, right?

Free Fallin', John Mayer. Here's the thing about John Mayer, and I promise this is the last thing I am going to say about him. I NEVER had a thing for him, and I'm not even sure I do now (all evidence to the contrary). But that dream I had? It's sort of like the scene in a movie where two people know each other, but there's never anything going on between them ... until the one night at a party where they get a little tipsy, maybe, look at each other a little differently, maybe, and then all of a sudden they're leaning in and kissing and they're not really sure what to do with it, but it's also verrrry intriguing. That's what the whole John Mayer thing is and why I can't shut up about it.

That said, I adore his cover of this song. It's amazing to me how it sounds like such a completely different song. The Tom Petty version (which I also like) sounds upbeat and empowering, a song about breaking away. This one is bittersweet and melancholy, a song about loss. I like it a lot, even if it makes me a little sad.

(Wait, I lied. THIS is the last thing I am going to say about him. I am JUST saying!)

Summer songs I completely hate (that will NOT be linked!):

I Kissed a Girl, Katy Perry. I literally have a visceral reaction when I turn on the radio and hear this song. It's like there's a wild cat being dragged across a linoleum floor right next to me and I'm all, MAAAAAAAKE IT STOPPPPP!

Viva la Vida, Coldplay. It puts me to sleep. Which is fine, I guess, if I am sitting at home at midnight, but not so fine if I am operating a piece of heavy machinery. Like a car.

What about you?

This is getting ridiculous

2008-08-11T14:49:00.003-04:00

(And, no, I am not talking about the fact that my car battery has become as temperamental as a sugared-up, nap-deprived 2-year-old, or the fact that comments on my last post apparently are showing up on a delay or not at all. Although I COULD be. Definitely. Especially considering that the car battery also chose to act up--read: die three times--on the day I got a flat tire. Buuuut ... we're not talking about that.)

I have always been a big dreamer, and I don't mean in a theoretical, "reach for the stars" way. I mean literally. You know those people who say they don't dream, or don't remember very many details of their dreams? Not me.

But this? THIS is getting absolutely, unbelievably ridiculous. The past few weeks, I have been having the craziest, most vivid dreams. Like EVERY night. You know about Mr. Mayer and his Wonder Lips. Well, the other night, I dreamed that I was going to die. I had until the end of the weekend, and I was writing cards to people, telling them goodbye, and I started to panic because I was running out of time. I walked out to where my mom was sitting and I just started to cry my eyes out, like, "I just need one more day. I want more time than that, but I have to have one more day."

Yeah. Fun dream. So, naturally, I woke up in the middle of the night completely freaked out.

I fell back to sleep a little while later and had a dream that I went to visit an old friend of mine who just had twins, someone I haven't seen since high school. I could remember her little girl's name, but not the boy's, so I got embarrassed and left ... to a box at the Super Bowl. There were a ton of people in there, and all of a sudden someone squeezes in and sits down next to me. I turn, and it's this guy I haven't spoken to since college. He asks me what I'm doing these days, and I can smell his cologne, and I'm not really sure where he's going with any of it, so I get up and walk into this other part of the box, where I see Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill.

This is the part where the record needle scratches, like, "Uhhhhherrrrrrrrhhhhh."
SETH ROGEN and JONAH HILL. Actually, Jonah Hill just walked past me, so he really wasn't in it, but SETH ROGEN. Why. WHY. WHO DREAMS ABOUT SETH ROGEN? I'm not even going to get into the rest of it other than to say apparently Seth Rogen and I are having lunch at noon on Tuesday (which, as I'm typing that, makes me think Sheryl Crow* must have been playing in the background). And, yes, John Mayer is a much, much better kisser and I can't believe I just said that but it had to be said.

And then the next night I had a dream I told Miley Cyrus she was a ho. I have no idea why.

Sadly, despite my best attempts, I have yet to dream about hot, broad-shouldered Olympic swimmers. I'll keep you posted.

(* From the song All I Wanna Do. Just because I don't think anyone else in the world will get that.)

Dream lover

2008-08-05T12:45:00.002-04:00

OK, first, some administrative details:

* My People magazine didn't come in the mail yesterday! At first I was like, I can wait until tomorrow, but I think you and I both know that would have been completely impossible, so I went out and bought a copy. (Do you ever wonder why People spent $14 million on those photos? Because of people like me, that's why.) It's hard to really tell anything with babies that little, although they do seem to look a little like Shiloh did, but the photos of Brad and Angie and the kids? TOTALLY LOVED THEM. I had a whole conversation with the lady at the checkout about them, and another conversation with a girl at the gym about them, and I will have a conversation with any of you about them, too. I love that Angelina looks exhausted and barely has any makeup on but still looks so, so beautiful and happy. I love that they seem so normal and natural. And that picture of Shiloh and Vivienne is SO GORGEOUS it just kills me. She really looks like a little doll.

* For those who are curious, I posted a comment detailing my computer neuroses on my last post.

* Finally, a completely random note: I would just like to announce that I lost my cell phone on Sunday (since recovered, thank GOODNESS) and then managed to run out of gas yesterday. I think I am having a contest with myself to see how stupid I can be. And I am winning.

And now ... let's talk about John Mayer. I am never quite sure where I stand on him. For a long time, I did not like him and I especially hated his hair, but on the flip side, I DID always love it when Clarity came on at my coffee shop. Then he did this interview with Cosmo where he talked all about how much he loved and respected women for their talent and intelligence, and I was like, YEAH, RIGHT, Mr. Body is a Wonderland ... but then I was like, you know, he DOES seem like a nice guy, MAYBE he means it. And then he did an awesome Grammy performance with Alicia Keys and an awesome cover of Free Fallin' AND he cut his hair ...

Which brings me to this: I TOTALLY HAD A DREAM I MADE OUT WITH JOHN MAYER THE OTHER NIGHT! The whole thing was very, very random. He was on some kind of break with Jennifer Aniston (who totally got mad anyway when she heard we made out ... JUST LIKE ON FRIENDS!). Anyway, we kissed for a while, and then he had to rush to a show, but he left me little presents and watched me open them while he was on stage. And you know what? I'm just going to say it: I have heard rumors about Mr. Mayer's various talents, and let me tell you, if my subconscious is any indication, they are ONE THOUSAND PERCENT true. He was a totally, TOTALLY good kisser in my dream. Like, REALLY good. Like, I opened up People magazine and his picture was in the front and I blushed a little, that's how good.

Yeah, I know. I'm not sure what to do with that either.

Drama central

2008-08-01T19:23:00.003-04:00

So ... I opened the new computer. And I hate it. It sounds like I am kidding, but I am TOTALLY serious, and yes, I was/am completely stressed out about it. I was sitting on my living room floor at like 4:30 in the morning the other night, surrounded by styrofoam and boxes and bubble wrap, going holy shit, this is a complete disaster and I am the biggest freaking idiot on the planet.

I am literally shaking my head right now. It stressed me out so much I seriously can't even talk about it, other than to say THANK GOODNESS they're going to let me return it and then (goody) I'll start the whole thing all over again.

Ahhhh. OK, I'm changing the subject now. So they're repaving all the parking by my apartment, and they're doing it in four stages. They put up all these flyers that are like, "On Tuesday, we're doing Section 1. If you don't move your car from Section 1 by 7 a.m. that day, your car will get towed." Which immediately makes me paranoid because that would SO be the kind of thing that would happen to me (see: practically any blog post I've ever written).

So it was supposed to go Sections 1-4, Monday-Thursday, but they fell behind, so Section 1 got done on Tuesday and Section 2 got done on Thursday. I usually park in Section 3. They didn't put up any new, updated Section 3 flyers, but I thought, OK, I'll just park in a different section to be safe. Well, I got home around 10:30 last night, and there was NO parking ANYWHERE. I drove around and around and finally found a spot at the end of Section 3. I told myself a thousand times, "It's fine, there are no flyers, it's fine, they're not going to tow you, it's fine."

Well. I get into bed at like 2, turn off the lights and then pop back up, suddenly CONVINCED I'm parked in a bad spot, and even if I set my alarm for 6:30 so I can move my car, I won't wake up, and my car will get towed and then I'll just have to hurl myself off the golden arches of the McDonald's down the street because at that point it'll be official that I completely suck at life. So I throw on some flip-flops, grab my keys (and cell phone to dial 911 in case I trip over a serial killer lurking in the bushes) and go outside.

Once outside, I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to accomplish. There are no more spots than there were three hours earlier; in fact, cars are lined up all along fire lanes and "do not park here" spots everywhere. So I basically just walk around, and can I just tell you, it was like the Secret Life of Apartment Living out there. First, the random guy unloading massive pieces of art out of the back of his SUV. At 2 a.m. On a weeknight. Inside the SUV, a splinted arm jutted in the air, connected to a lifeless body slumped in the passenger seat--my guess, someone who was shot and injured during the heist. "Do you know if they're repaving this part tomorrow?" I ask him. "No," he says, and starts grabbing the paintings faster. It's totally like The Thomas Crown Affair, only without Pierce Brosnan's charm and with Rene Russo, like, DEAD in the front seat. I clutch my keys so the pointy ends are facing out and start speedwalking away as fast as my flip-flops will let me.

A few minutes later, I bump into another guy. He doesn't know if they're repaving, either, but thinks I should be fine as long as I'm parked in a real spot (as opposed to the rebels in the fire lane spots). He tells me how he saw someone's car get towed that morning; I tell him about how my neighbor flew into a panic and raced outside at 8:30 just in time to move his. And then I remember it's the middle of the night and I'm standing outside in my pajamas with messy hair and no bra and I'm like, why I am even HAVING a conversation with another person right now.

But just then, there's a light. We turn, and it's a tow truck. A sneaky, stealthy, slowly-creeping-down-the-road tow truck, and we're like, WHAT is going on? The tow truck stops, and a guy jumps out with a super-high-powered flashlight and starts randomly PEEPING in some random, COMPLETELY LEGALLY PARKED PERSON's car!

My new friend: "I think that's a renegade tow truck."
Me: "Oh, my gosh, he's gonna STEAL something, isn't he?!?"

The guy jumps back into the tow truck and creeps along another few yards, and then starts peeking in someone ELSE'S car. And then someone ELSE'S! We watch as he goes all the way down to the end of the road, completely bypassing all of the questionably parked cars, and then turns around and drives back out.

NF: "That was really weird."
Me: "That WAS really weird." Pause. "I think I'm gonna go inside now."

And then I run inside. I am happy to report that I stumbled out in bare feet at 7:30 this morning to find my car still parked in its spot, next to a sign that said the paving will happen on Monday. Also, in completely unrelated news, my coffee shop gave me like free everything today and the Jolie-Pitt baby pictures are but a mere 48 hours away (supposedly 30 PAGES worth ... holy crap). So, you know. Computer debacle aside, there's that. Have a good weekend, everyone!

You're the best ... arouuuuuund

2008-07-29T00:22:00.001-04:00

So I took a break from Jo and the complete DOUCHEBAG Slade to flip channels and OH MY GOSH IT'S THE LAST 20 MINUTES OF KARATE KID!!! Could there BE a more exciting development on an otherwise ordinary Monday night at the end of July?

Let me answer that for you. No. No, there could not.

I totally just called my brother to tell him. My brother who suffered the worst asthma attack of his entire life when I tried the "crane kick" on him and ended up kicking him so hard in the chest, he fell to the living room floor and couldn't breathe for like the next 20 minutes. (I thought for sure I'd killed him and totally bawled my eyes out while promising to make his bed every day and take out the garbage for him and basically do anything he ever wanted, if only he wouldn't die ... or tell my mom and dad.)

(His name, by the way, is also Dan--as in Daniel-San ... get it? get it?--and when he was like 10 or 12, he looked exactly like Ralph Macchio in the final scene. Of course, Ralph Macchio was like 20 in that scene, but whatever.)

Anyway, so I called my brother to tell him, and I was like, I always think of you at this part. And he was like, really? Because the part right BEFORE that is the one that always makes me think of YOU. And I was like, no way! Which part? And he was like, yeah, the part where the girl gets all huffy and is like (valley girl accent), "When are you guys going to GROW UP and stop being such JERKS?"

And then I died laughing. Because ... just trust me.

OK, so the final scene. There are just too many things to love here. The great background music (see title ... also see my head, where it will now be stuck for the next week). The guy in the crowd screaming, "Johnny, you're a creampuff!" The deranged-looking Cobra Kai (Bobby?) bouncing up and down on the side, cackling like a monkey on crack ("Put him in a bodybag, Johnny!!!"). The sick bastard Cobra Kai sensei, who's all "Sweep ... the ... leg" in his menacing half-whisper. Johnny himself, who's really such a nasty bully but whose chiseled jaw and blue eyes kinda, sorta bring out that "I wanna reform the bad boy" bug in nice girls everywhere. The kick, of course. And then, at the end, wise old Mr. Miyagi gazing proudly at his little one-legged champion pupil.

I know it is cheesy, I KNOW IT, but I am literally sitting here with little goosebumps up and down my arms. This movie totally rocks. Watch that scene, it will make your entire week.

(P.S. No computer yet! Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'm sure of it.)