justforscuz

How to be alone, Part 3?

2010-08-20T19:30:00.003-04:00

I always find it fascinating when people say, “I’d rather [have that or do this] than be alone,” because, like my co-contributors, I relish in alone-ness like it is a sacred gift from the world itself. Think about it, every day we shuffle ourselves off into the daily grind. There are people at the bus stop, on the T, at work (if you are employed), at stores, at the park, on the street, in our apartments (some might call them roommates, I call them intruders in my life. Kidding!), etc, etc, etc. There comes a point when you need a break from it all. When you need to sit in your bedroom, hair uncombed, with a bag of peanut butter m&ms, a diet coke, and 2 seasons of Pushing Daisies to watch on your antiquated laptop which barely has the technology to post in this blog.

This is not to say I don’t like people. Well, maybe it is, I’ll be honest, I don’t always like people. But even as a child I constantly plotted ways to escape my extremely nice, non-overbearing, relatively amazing family (in the grand scheme of crazy families, anyway). Whether it was through reading a good book (or, rather, any book, consider my obsession with the Trixie Beldon series. Nancy Drew was too cool for me. Krissy knows what I am talking about) or hiding out in my bedroom or climbing a tree, I found my ways to be by myself.

Now that I’ve grown (up), sometimes it seems I am alone in my desire to be alone. (See how I did that?) I’m just so good at disappearing by this point, I don’t even notice my tendency to going into Lone-Wolf mode anymore. I’ve planned vacations and then clued my family in last minute, as an after thought, because I am sure they’d want to know that I will be in a developing country for 2 weeks. I leave the apartment in the morning, return at midnight, with little to no explanation, instigating concerned text messages on a phone that never has the ringer on. If I am bored with a situation, I leave the room, leave the party. My picture is probably next to the definition of the Irish Good-Bye.

The truth is, it doesn’t occur to me that people would ever want to be clued in on the goings on of my little old life. This goes beyond me not wanting people to cramp my style, I’ve just never had anyone in my life that required me to check in. Even as a teenager, I told my parents where I was going and what time I was going to be back and as long as I stuck with that plan I didn’t need to keep them posted along the way. As depressing as this will sound, I consider myself a disposable friend, here when you want me, gone when you don't need me around. Out of sight, out of mind. I blow in and out of people's lives like tumbleweed. Am I done with these metaphors? Yes, yes I think I am.

As I watch friends jump into relationships, connecting their lives with others in a way that goes beyond a Facebook link, I wonder if I will ever be able to pull that off. When people tell me they hate long distance relationships, I am always afraid to admit I secretly dream for that opportunity. Scheduled phone calls, long weekend visits, emails about hopes, dreams, and muppets... that’s the stuff I can do. But if someone wants to see me every day, talk to me every day, it makes me nervous and I start to make excuses why it just won't work if that kind of togetherness is what the other person wants. It's not me to need that.

It’s taken me a long time to get to this place, but I like being on my own. I function well alone. I am comfortable with it. I like to move easily about the cabin that is life, and when you are attached at the hip to someone else, it can be difficult to maneuver. I just haven’t learned the steps to that dance yet, and maybe it’s because I was never ready for it.

But, behind every loner, there is a closet romantic. I want the white picket fence and all that comes with it. I do want that one special person with which to grow old. [And if he is the right person, he will understand my need for personal space in the form of an office/studio space in a converted carriage house out back.] And a few kids, if the fates allow. Definitely a dog. The thing is, all of these hopes and dreams come with a dose of reality. My life isn't that white frosted fantasy I may have once naively imagined. But being alone for so long has made me see what it is I want and what it is I will need to be happy. And this sense of self is all really one can hope for.

How to be alone, part 2

2010-08-16T23:10:00.005-04:00

Having been alone my whole life, it's an adjustment NOT being alone. Worse and more difficult than to explain this to friends or random people, is explaining this to someone you're dating. Like Krissy, I have had friends, I have had family.

But before I had friends, I was alone. I didn't have close friends until I was 15 or so. It was a strange concept, which is perhaps why I was so easily convinced once that no one wanted to be my friend-even though they did.

I had a large family, so I was never completely alone. I had 3 brothers, but they had different interests. As much as I pretended to like these interests, or they pretended I wasn't an inconvenience attempting to play sports, I was set apart. In basketball, we came to an agreement that I would stand in one place, which was a "sweet spot" for me, and when given the ball, I would shoot. I think when I sunk a shot, I sang "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John. No wonder I was alone. Even so, my siblings had friends at a much earlier age. At first I probably hated the lonely feeling. Then lonely didn't feel so lonely.

The times when I did want to be alone, I never really was. I brought up the notion of going to the bathroom while another person was showering in the same bathroom. It freaked my boyfriend out. We did it all the time growing up. 7 people and 2 bathrooms. Do. The. Math. Before the age of 24 I only had my own room for 1 year. And then for two years I was an independent, fully employed young man...who lived with his parents. Now that I can be alone...sometimes I just want to.

It's hard now to explain to someone that you choose to be with and who chooses to be with me, that sometimes, I just need to be completely alone. It's probably more often than is "acceptable" and I will keep the quotes because having spent so much time not worrying about societal norms I don't think there is an "acceptable" amount. Perhaps it sounds selfish to the other person when you explain that it is not about them. It has absolutely nothing to with anyone but me. Maybe it takes loners more time to be "good" at a relationship. Again, I keep the quotes because I think the best relationships are formed when two people maintain their strong characteristics. It doesn't mean I love any less.

Being alone you learn a lot about yourself. I'm always told I seem very sure of who I am. Well, I hope so, because I have had more time to work on myself than the average person. And...I like me. Me and myself have had some good times together. The older I get the harder it is to stay in touch with some friends. With jobs, meetings, relationships, family, friends, weddings, parties, hobbies, exercise- there is precious little time for oneself. I have to make more of an effort to find quality time with important people in my life. To catch up with an old friend. Sometimes I need time to catch up with the oldest friend I have.

Follow the advice from the video in part 1. The more you learn about yourself, the better you will be for yourself and others :)

how to be alone, pt 1

2010-08-11T11:25:00.004-04:00

So I'm pretty sure if there's one thing we kids at justforscuz can agree on, it's that we love to be alone. We're used to it. We're good at it. Sometimes (gasp!), we even prefer it. I've recently started seeing someone (shocking, I know) and have found myself struggling to explain my fondness for aloneness. I think it's often confused for loneliness, and herein lies the problem. Being alone is a choice, and it's a mighty valid one. Being alone doesn't mean I don't have love, friends, or family. It just means that when I find myself alone with...myself, I am content with the company of my own thoughts.

See? It's not as easy to explain to you as it was to myself. One point for being alone! Anyways, here is someone much more eloquent to explain how I feel...

That's my main b*tch!

2010-05-10T21:18:00.001-04:00

You should be listening to Melanie Fiona, if you're not already. Her music samples a lot of good oldies songs- this is my favorite track.

MyPlate

2010-04-28T14:57:00.005-04:00

A coworker showed me a feature on LiveStrong called MyPlate. It's kind of awesome and I've been playing on it all day.

What it basically is, is a food and fitness tracker. To create a profile you enter your information (gender, height, weight, and activity level) and your goal (weight management, lose 1 pound a week, lose 1.5 a week, etc.) What I really like about it is that is has everything for food, and very specific. It had the exact type of whole wheat wraps I eat, and Dunkin' Donuts bagels versus just "bagel." In fact, even TruBlood is an option, if you are a TV vampire living in the Bayou. I also entered my morning run, and it tracks time, speed, and distance to calculate calories burned.

As a Weight Watchers graduate (not that I paid for it or went to meetings-shhh!), I think this is a great product, because it is a user-friendly way to track calories in and calories out. The Weight Watchers system works on this principle, but simplifies the calories into points (a point is about 50 calories, factoring for fat and fiber).

For those who are interested or need it, the site also gives specific percentages on your intake of calories from carbs, protein, and fat. For the truly obsessive or those with specific health goals, you can track sodium, cholesterol, and sugar.

I may fall in and out of keeping up with this site, but then I've done that with my weight loss efforts for 5 years, and this is another thing that I can always go back to.

Screech

2010-04-28T11:42:00.003-04:00

People, particularly en masse, are stupid. At a bar last night, there was a vote on what to listen to, while on the TVs the Red Sox and the Celtics were on. The choices were: music, the Red Sox, or the Celtics. My vote, because I am not at all interested in the Celtics, and would like to be able to watch the Red Sox, but also listen to music, was music. Besides it being a more pleasant sound, you can't SEE music. To be fair to everyone, since two out of three choices possess the ability to be seen AND heard, music should have been the defaulted decision.

The vote was conducted by who could be the loudest. Music was first. I said, "Ooo ooooo!" and a few other people cheered. Red Sox were second. Not very many votes there. Celtics were last. Here's the thing: if you leave a choice for last in a noise-conducted poll, you are already giving it unfair advantage. Everyone knows how loud the first groups were, and therefor exactly how loud they need to be. They could even be fairly quiet, as long as the decibel level is greater than the groups before. Because of this, we will never really know if people liked Screech and Lisa's dance the best on "Saved by the Bell." Applause-o-meter? I think not.

Speaking of screech, the Celtics won the applause-o-meter vote in this case. The Celtics? Basketball? Really? THAT'S what you want to listen to? Music doesn't hurt anything-you can still SEE what's going on. Do you really need some old dudes to tell you what already happened, or read the stats to you off the screen? Most of the time, they're just gossiping or talking about inside jokes that only the two of them get. My second vote would be for baseball. You get the spring night-time sounds, the crowd, the crack of the bat, the umpire calling the pitches.

But, no, we're gonna listen to basketball. Screech-screech-dribble dribble-airhorn-whistle-screech screech-buzzer-screech, 7-foot dudes falling on the floor. The only good noise in basketball is a swish and I don't think you can even hear that on TV.

Big mistake.

My legacy

2010-04-27T14:38:00.004-04:00

I posted this on a friend's Facebook page, because it's amazing:

And he posted it on his blog, for the New York Times.

Mindless Minute

So, I have changed the world and left a mark. I can die now.

Just keep driving... just keep driving

2010-02-27T14:48:00.003-05:00

Comparably speaking, I've never been someone who has a lot of road rage. Yes, I get bouts of it from time to time... you know, the feelings that start to grow inside of you in an uncontrollable way and you risk turning into the Hulk at an inopportune moment. But, road rage isn't usually part of my driving repertoire. In fact, I was in the car with my sister one time when this woman pulled out of nowhere, cut me off, and almost hit me, and she said, "Ahh! Beep at her!" And I said, "What? Now? Huh?" because my initial response to other people's poor driving skills is to just say, "Jeez. That was annoying" and then move on with my life. Until now.

Since I drive almost 2 hours a day during 2 rush hours in the greater Boston area, I am on the road with pretty much every single Masshole there ever was in the history of the world. I don't care about the big stuff. Sure, zip in front of me while driving like a maniac. I honestly don't mind. But, disasters are in the details and I have quite a few comments on the little things people do that really bug me. Here goes.

Driving Etiquette
An Essay
By Anita Rackow

There are some very basic rules of the road that everyone should know about. The first one has to do with lanes. If you don't know what lane to be in while driving in on a major MA freeway, let me refresh your memory. The right hand lane is for merging onto the highway and for those getting off the highway. The middle lane is for traveling at a reasonable speed. The left hand lane is for passing.

Merging
Sometimes there isn't a lot of time to merge onto the highway before the next exit comes up. If you are trying to catch that next exit and someone else is trying to get on.... slow down. Let them merge into the right hand lane while you sneak in behind them to take the exit. Do not speed up and drive alongside them so they can't finish merging. Do not shout expletives at them (they can't hear you anyway) because they are in between you and the exit. If you are doing those things, you are the reason that person is panicking because they think they are going to be forced to take the exit that brings them right back to the highway they were just on, only going in the opposite and wrong direction, when they are already 15 minutes late to work.

Exiting
Did I mention that the right hand lane is for exiting? I understand traffic and being a granny-type driver and the need to sometimes move into the right hand lane early because you just need to go a little slower than the people in the middle lane are driving. Please resist. Suck it up and go the 65 mph speed limit for crying out loud so the people who need to exit don't get stuck in the world's worst traffic jam because you are in their lane an exit early. When you are on a 4 lane highway, you especially do not need to be in the right hand lane. Ever. So move it. I want to take the exit for 95 North and you are in my way. A note to the people who think they are being tricky by driving in the breakdown lane in order to get to the exit more quickly. (A) I watched a police officer single-handedly pull over and ticket at least 15 vehicles who did that just the other day so there's that little bit of karma headed your way and (B) Really? You really can't wait 1 extra minute to inch along 1/4 of a mile to the exit in the normal lane?

The speed limit
I'm not opposed to anyone who goes over the speed limit, but if you are going under the speed limit on a sunny day with no traffic in sight, I might reach out my window and smack you as I drive by. It's just annoying. Those people are tricky to pass because I am always the last one to notice that all of a sudden I am driving 40mph on a 65mph highway and so the cars behind me are hopping into the left hand lane and whizzing by without letting me in to do the same. The only people who have a slow driving excuse are those whose cars have bumpers taped on by duct tape or Christmas trees strapped to the roof. Everyone else better go at least the speed limit if not a conservative 5 to 10 mph over.

Beeping
I hate it when people beep at me for no reason. The other day I was stuck behind a bus. It just happened to me like an unfortunate cold sore and I couldn't do anything about it. So I sat there waiting until the bus was able to move along. Lo and behold, the beeping started from cars behind me. Hi. There is a bus in front of me. I can't get past it. Don't beep at me because of a bus sitting in front of me like a bump on a log. I have to wonder if the cars behind me think that we are going to do some sort of orchestrated beep along to get the bus to move ahead in a more timely manner. I refuse to participate in that sort of juvenile behavior. Instead of beeping at people who can't do anything about a situation, take the time you have to file your nails, check facebook, or write a text to your boss explaining why you are late for the 7th day in a row.

I also hate when people beep at me because they did something wrong. For instance, I was entering a CVS parking lot while someone was trying to exit. For safety purposes, one side of the lot has a designated entrance and the other is for the exit. I was going into the entrance. The person was going out of the entrance. He beeped at me. Oh, please excuse me sir. I am sorry for trying to enter in the entrance and got in your way while you broke the rules. Wait just one second while I hop out of my car and use my roommate's ice scraper (that I happened to commandeer one snowy morning and never returned) to ineffectively smash your windows in. Did that ruin your day? Did it? Well I am truly sorry but you also ruined mine so we are even.

END SCENE.

The Wolfman

2010-02-15T23:25:00.002-05:00

The Wolfman, an updated version of the classic monster story, offers pretty much what you expect. A man is going to get bit, he's going to become a wolf, he's going to kill, and he's going to be killed. You know from the beginning who is going to kill him. There really aren't a lot of surprises or originality in store.

Perhaps the only new concept is that there is another wolfman. From this point, or even before, it doesn't take a genius to figure out there will be a wolf-on-wolf showdown. Instead of following in the classic tradition of Wolfman vs. Dracula or Wolfman vs. Frankenstein we have Wolfman vs. Wolfman. In a way, he's facing off with himself. It would seem poignant except that the character development is presented in flashbacks that are quick and choppy and feature effects not in keeping with the pacing and look of the rest of the film. In fact, they take away from the overall feel. So, I don't really care about the character's inner demons. The outer demon is much more interesting.

Although formulaic, the movie is entertaining. There are a few good quick scares. The attack scenes keep a balance between suggestive shadows and blood splatters and more modern heads being cut off and stomachs being torn open right in front of us. The effects are good and I give the movie a lot of credit for opting more for makeup and costumes over too much CG. The wolfman character himself is well-adapted from the classic Universal monster. No one is going to win any awards for this picture, but it didn't slaughter the original.

Rating: 5 out of 7 stars

No connexion

2010-01-28T20:27:00.002-05:00

Even longer than I've been on the Cupe as I now call it, I've been on Connexion.

I recently got a message from someone without a picture. Call me shallow (we know it wouldn't be the first time), but attraction is important. Also, not having a picture shows a lack of confidence. Or it means you're sketchy. I decided to message him back.

On 1/27/2010 at 6:10 PM ****** wrote:
how are u?

1/28/2010 at 12:20 AM Tim wrote:
I'm great. Living the life. Having a face. You?

Response:

i can have a face too hit me up

So-so cupid

2010-01-24T23:55:00.002-05:00

I signed up for OkCupid, after hearing someone had found a boyfriend on there. Overall, it's pretty terrible. More on that in a future post. One of the biggest problems is that no one knows how to talk to people. I guess it makes sense that they have to find someone online. I find that sad, because there are a lot of great people out there and we're all going to be avoiding online dating (which I think in theory could work and does work) because it's full of creeps. Here is my favorite message thus far:

"Nice teeth ! lol :} And the fact you actually joined the day of my birthday Dec 26 ! I laughed when I read that ! Whats with all of your filters, You look like your in your 40s,and one filter says cant be older than 33 LOL My last boyfreind was an abercrombie and fitch underwear model,see what your missing out on by being super shallow ?"

This was sent by a 36 year old. He was filtered from sending me a message because I don't want to date 36 year olds, and that's my prerogative. Conventional wisdom might instruct me to ignore this kind of douchebag and move on. I didn't let it get to me. I have been called a lot of things- arrogant, mean, an asshole, evil. I've never been called shallow. And I look exactly 27.5. I get carded. Even with a beard. I'm a little nugget. So we don't ignore such uninvited animosity.

"Humor doesn't come across in writing sometimes. Plus there was no "jk" or :) so I guess you're just being a prick for no reason. I hardly look like I'm in my 40s. So did the shallow Abercrombie model dump you for a younger model? We're almost as good a match for enemy as dating. I can see why. No one who knows me has ever called me shallow.

By the way you used the wrong your/ you're twice, but I know it's been about 25 years since your last grammar lesson."

I wanted to go meaner and really go for the gut. I find though that sometimes you should respond with a touch of restraint and a hint of class. Or maybe I'm too shallow to cut him deep.

A Christmas Un-miracle!

2009-12-28T11:30:00.002-05:00

My computer has been having trouble for the past couple of months. I never had any problems, and then suddenly, it started to struggle. Then one day...it wouldn't start up. The computer would power up, start opening Mac OSX Tiger and stay that way, potentially forever. A friend of mine managed to treat the computer like an external drive, and get my entire drive onto his external. My files are all in tact.

I found my reboot disks, and used them to restore my computer to factory settings. And it worked wonderfully for a day. A Christmas Miracle!

The second day it worked, I decided to join a new dating site. I can't do eharmony (they wouldn't know how to match us!); I don't think I'm Match.com ready- bitches are ready to get married and junk. So I elected for OkCupid! It actually asks questions and you get matched up to people, instead of waiting for people to say "Your cute" and then be upset by their terrible spelling. If they do select the correct "you're" it's usually because they were educated in the 60s.

In the middle of updating my profile, the computer shut down. It won't turn back on. I now have messages from guys on the website. I can't check them from work- it's blocked. I can't check them from home.

That seems more like my life.

Posts I can't seem to finish (The Tech Edition)

2009-12-18T20:29:00.005-05:00

We pretty much suck at updating this blog now that NaBloPoMo is over and Tim's computer apparently exploded, or a ghost took it, or whatever happened there of that I can't keep track. I have about 15 blog topics I am working on right now.... none of them are finished. But, if you'd like a little taste of the good stuff, here are the ones I probably will never finish. I kept it thematic, they all have a technology-ish theme going on:

-Since I've gotten my iPhone, I've paid more attention to the ads for the competition... you know, so I can say to myself, "you made the right choice" by selecting to drop Verizon like it's hot and join the ranks of people who have AT&T only because they have the best smart phone out there. I said it. What makes me laugh is how all of the other phones keep name dropping Google. Powered by Google. With Google. I get that Google is awesome and probably the most popular search engine/email service/ etc etc etc, but must we all brag about how Google can be accessed or is somehow powering a phone? How does Google "power" a phone or 3G network anyway? Is T-mobile's myTouch on a 3Google network? (That's a serious question). Here's what I have to say about the Googley-eyed smart phones out there. Google is a floozy. It will hop on any bandwagon because Google likes to be popular. Google doesn't care if you are a Droid, a MyTouch, a Whoosiewhatsit or an iPhone. To find google, you can just type in www.google.com. Okay, so when you click on the internet on the iPhone, Google's main page doesn't show up.... but, wait for it, wait for it, there's an app for that. OR, you can type in www.google.com. Or you can bookmark it. Just like any old computer with the internets. I would give more credit to the other guys out there if they said "with Yahoo" or "Decisions provided by Bing!" because then at least they are offering something different and unusual even if it is something subpar to Google. Let's be honest, Droid, Googs is just using you, like he's using everyone else. Bragging about having Google on your phone that connects to the world wide web is like patting yourself on the back because the 7th grade prospective class president wants to be your friend. Yes, you, four-eyes McGeek with the bad habit of wearing oversized sweatshirts that have tigers screenprinted on them and who hasn't discovered Proactiv. Do you really think Mr. Popular wants to be your friend? He just wants you to vote during 5th period elections and then he won't remember your name until he has to copy your test answers in History class.

-I have a lot of great ideas. No really, I do. Once my friend Heidi agreed with me on that and she said she'd keep a list for me. Where's that list, Heidi? Thanks for nothing. Anyway, my point is, I could be sitting at dinner with my parents and come up with a great idea for a site that connected people with things that they want and all the people who have those things. I'd call it "Wishlist." The next day, I am eating lunch with one of my friends who is a bitter bridesmaid, and that's when I come up with my idea for a gift registry for single people called "Pity Party". Later, I am driving to Boston with my dad, wishing there was an App for people who forget their EZPass or Fastlanes, and wishing even more I could be the person to develop it and sell it. Or, I am drinking (a lot) with friends and decide to make an alternative to facebook called "Earbook"... So you can "hear" what's up. Get it? Get it? HA HA HA HA HA HA . So, basically, I just think I am on the wrong career path. I wish I had "done something with computers" like a grandmother might say. I could be rich. I could be famous. I could be everything I wanted to be. Instead I'll just go travel somewhere....Sigh.

-I never used to be a big cell phone person. I got my first one when I studied abroad in Italy and then when I got home I got my permanent one (senior year of college, I suppose I was a late bloomer, as per usual). Up until a few weeks ago, when the iPhone joined my family of one, I was known to keep my phone on silent even after getting home from work, forgetting it at home, leaving it upstairs (out of sight, out of mind) while hanging out downstairs, etc. I just never thought about it. My theory, there is voicemail for a reason. Leave a message and I will check it in 3 weeks when my mailbox gets full. Your better bet would be just to hang up. Curiosity would get the best of me (7 hours later when I notice the missed call) and I'd get back to you with a "I saw you called....?" I was no stranger to voicemail tag and I sometimes looked forward to it; in fact, on more than one occassion I didn't want voice on voice action. I have nightmares about calling people and having them answer and me hanging up on them in horror. Point of this ramble: Now that I have a better phone that deserves more than a life on a dusty end table in between the bed and the bookcase, I wonder if I will become one of those people who is obsessed with their phones? These people really irk me and I think I should write a book about proper phone etiquette in the age of cell phones. I'm not the only one that has noticed all of these newfangled contraptions are ruining the way we socialize. On another note, could you imagine if the Fax machine really caught on in the way cell phones did? Could you imagine faxing your friends at 2am: "Just made out with my boss at the holiday party. LOL." What if there were mini-wireless-portable fax machines. HA HA HA. Whenever I think about fax machines I think about Back to the Future 2 when there are the fax machines in everyroom spitting out "YOU'RE FIRED." Okay, now I don't even remember the point of this mini post. End scene.

-Whoever came up with the idea of Online Dating I'd like to smack. If it wasn't bad enough that my generation was already socially inept in terms of dating, some whiz kid had to go and add internet into the mix, making things even more complicated. It probably started with the idea of a chat room (remember those virtual rooms you could stumble into at the age of 13, pretending to be 25, and then your neighbor ends up on Dateline's "To Catch a Predator" special) and then when on AOL there was no such thing as privacy so you could search everyone and anyone who had set up a profile with their screenname and chat them up until 2am at sleepovers. Somehow, all of this evolved into people setting up websites like Match and eHarmony, to "make things easier" for those of us who couldn't seem to snag a significant other the normal way. Well, you know what I'd like to say.... I bet things would be easier if these alternatives didn't exist. I'm not against Facebook or Match or anything, but what if we couldn't Google our high school boyfriend to find out what time he ran in the Manchester Road Race, or log into a website that supposedly evaluates you on 30 plus different levels in order to find your soulmate? Since when did we become so passive and scared? I feel like the best love stories are the ones where the protagonist seizes the day and jumps into love... it usually isn't a tale of someone going online to scope out this new person he/she met in a bar the night before via Facebook. (Well, aside from You've Got Mail, but that had Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan so it worked). Before I get all bitter betty on dating and the internet and bla di bla bla, I'm going to stop ranting. And yes, I know internet dating works for many many people. I say, power to you, for figuring out how to make the system work and for taking chances. In the end, love is love, no matter how you slice it.

*Sorry about any spelling mistakes. I am too lazy to re-read this with a fine tooth comb, and my spell check is apparently busted. Did I just prove one of my points by even saying that? Totally unintentional. I'm a jerk.

Fall-ing apart

2009-12-02T16:06:00.003-05:00

The Fall semester is winding down. Actually, it's falling apart, melting down, whatever you want to call it. Everyone is sick. Students are run down and ready to go home. Staff want them to go home even more. We normally have weird situations and conversations in here, but we are operating at a Friday level by Wednesday.

I called someone a smartass earlier and I defended the professionalism of doing so by claiming that if a swear is part of a larger word, it's not a swear; like smartass, or jackass. The staff and several tutors then discussed whether or not you could do this by combining two swears, like "Fuckass." I'm not sure.

There is a bell and a crazy handclapper that we ring and clap when getting students to register. I have the bell under my close watch because it drives me crazy. One time I threw it. I hid the handclapper between my cubicle and the wall. My boss asked me where it was to which I responded "I have NO idea!" I may have to dig it out, because apparently she bought it and now she's threatening to buy more.

Our student worker slept for 20 minutes last night, so she is fitting in just fine with the staff today. I had her working on a project in Photoshop. She forgot to save. It crashed. Whoops. So she yelled at the computer.

"You have learned the lesson of yelling things out loud."

A student came in and was talking to the student worker about working in restaurants. He then said to Jenny, in front of another student "I should just go to the gym and become a stripper" and then flicked one of his shirt buttons open. Lost it. Weird, he has my same career goals. I didn't think I had anything in common with the students.

Then the flying monkey came out. I flung it at Jenny.
"Was that really necessary?"
"Is any interaction we ever have REALLY necessary?"

I missed hitting a student coming in to test by seconds. Oh well, next time. Between the monkey sound, the giggling, the yelling, and the running around, I'm not sure she wanted to be dropped off with us.

I have decided that our office is like the class in Finding Nemo.

We work. We just don't function well.

Report card

2009-12-01T10:45:00.004-05:00

This blog is almost 1 year old. It is still pretty cruddy, but I think it's going...somewhere.

My computer is dying. I am currently on my work computer. My ibook, which has stuck by me for 5 years, has been going through some hard times. Last night it just...stopped. Now when I turn it on it says "Starting Mac OSX" for-ev-er. I will be pissed if it dies, but I'll get over it. My music I can get back with or deal with it. My sketches I have printed out so I can retype them. I will take this time to realize I need an external drive and to get organized.

I was going to update from my ipod last night. Because I walked to work in the pouring rain last week, it got water logged and now the backlight doesn't work. This is the trend with my technological devices as of late. Because my phone charger was literally spit out of the wall (I think we have a ghost) while my phone was charging, the phone only works when in the open position (it's an Envy 2- that flips open to text). So to call people or pick up calls I have to open it, press the correct button, and then re-close it if I want to look like a normal boy.

Last night I decided to plug in my humidifier, because I need noise to sleep and it's getting too cold to have a fan going. I plugged it in. It does not work. Yup.

I have no money right now. I work 40 hours a week, and yet I am going to need a part time job. Granted, I go out too often, which I am going to stop doing...as much. Even if I stop doing that, I just need more money to save, oh and buy a new computer, and maybe ipod and phone. Perhaps part time job adventures await this blog.

Take a mental picture. December 1, 2009. Things are not the best. They will probably continue to get comically worse for a bit. Things breaking. Mini explosions. Perhaps I'll get hives. But then, they only have to get better at some point. I'll try to hold off-the explosions and hives are more entertaining.

Snugg-diculous

2009-11-29T23:20:00.010-05:00

I have long had issues with The Snuggie. I won't even get into them here and there is no argument. They are stupid. The ads are worse than the product, and this one made me particularly agitated. It's possible that my male PMS was in overdrive and that is why I actually yelled at the TV throughout the commercial, but I think its stupidity stands for itself.

Am I to believe these people like their Snuggies so much they are raising the roof because of them? Do people still do that? What are you so excited about? Your lives are so sad and the romance in your relationship is clearly dead since you wear separate, thick, blankets while you snuggle. No double snuggie?

Dick...heads...dick....heads...DICKHEADS!!

Your clue was snuggie? You picked the thing of which there are four in the room for your clue? You love it that much that you will forfeit points so that there is one more mention of the wonderful, magical blanket with sleeves?

Your dog reads? Your dog reads about his own breed? You dress your dog in a matching snuggie and glasses? This dog looks like he wants to kill himself. In reality, he would probably be taking advantage of the book.

Is grandma knitting herself something less ridiculous than a Snuggie or a noose to hang herself? Who is she waving to? Goodbye everyone, I'm offing myself in my Snuggie. At least my corpse will be warm for a bit.

No, seriously, stop raising the damn roof!

Karma's a bitch...a bigger bitch than you

2009-11-28T18:37:00.003-05:00

I was at Dunkin' Donuts today. I have a love/hate relationship with Dunkin' Donuts. I love their coffee, but I don't like that I am addicted to it and it's expensive. Sometimes their service is not the best. In fact, there are certain Dunkin' Donuts where the service is consistently terrible. You have to know the good ones and the bad ones. I know the good and bad ones near anyplace I have ever lived, worked, or frequented.

Even so, I am always polite if there has been some kind of mistake with what I have ordered. And I don't act like my time is TOO important if the service is slow. If you're that important, go to Starbucks with the other wealthier, more uppety people.

There was a complete douche of a woman in Dunks today while I was there. They didn't have the bagel she wanted. So she demanded her money back, which is fine, but she did it very bitchily. Then her 3 fat daughters/daughters friends needed to use the bathroom. They harassed the woman to buzz the door open. They missed it because they are slow, fat, and stupid. Then while she was waiting on me, they kept harassing her to buzz the door. Then the fat woman's husband came in with the dog, who immediately went for her ankles, because dogs sense evil. She continuously kept complaining, asked for more ice and commented that she had to "make her own coffee." No, you had to put in 12 more sugars because you are a tubby, bitch and you need artificial sweetness. I think when I was leaving she was asking for a manager.

I left wanting her to be punished by karma. I actually have a desire to BE karma. Like a hero, or a force of nature, I want to be in charge of doling out karma both good and bad. Is it bad for me to wish something on her? I just want her to get what's coming to her for being a miserable bitch. Maybe she already got it. Maybe everywhere she goes, the poppy seed bagels will already be sold out and her coffee won't be sweet enough. Sure, she'll take it out on some poor girl behind the counter, but maybe they'll be rewarded by the next customer who leaves a decent tip, and she'll never get the bagel she wants. She's obviously not short on starchy food to keep her unpleasantly plump.

Mr Squiggles

2009-11-27T18:07:00.004-05:00

In response to Tim's post about Black Friday, I thought I should make all of you aware of what this year's top toy is: Zhu Zhu Hamster. The one pictured below is "Mr. Squiggles." They also come in different colors with names like Pipsqueak, Num Nums, and Chunk. It's a toy only Courtney could dream up and the rest of us could make fun of. On Amazon, they are between $50 and $60 bucks and you can buy toy accessories (like a wheel, those plastic tubes, etc) for extra. All of the fun of a real hamster without all of the fuss of a real hamster. Wait, wait..... is a real hamster that fussy? I mean, sure you have to clean the cage and feed it, but why would you drop $60 on a toy that is sure to lose its luster the day after Christmas/ Hannakuh when you could spend $10 on the real thing and then when you get sick of taking care of it, just accidently let it free in the yard or secretly poison its water so it dies of "natural causes" in its cage. Too much? Did I cross a line?As the product description on Amazon says: "Each Zhu Zhu Hamter has its own unique personality & whimsical sounds. Loving Mode: Pet them, love them, hear them chatter. Explore Mode: Let them scoot, scamper, across the floor. Provide them with their Hamster Habitat. " Need I say more?

Black Friday

2009-11-26T23:18:00.002-05:00

Thanksgiving, perhaps my favorite holiday, is over. It was okay- more on that at a later point. My former favorite holiday was Christmas. I almost wrote old favorite holiday, which makes me realize that the French word "ancien" meaning both old or former makes more sense than I always thought.

Tomorrow is Black Friday, the huge shopping day that officially segues into the Christmas season, and is actually the reason I don't like Christmas as much anymore. In just a few hours, people will be knocking down doors and walking over other floors made up of tile, clothing, and spines, to get fight over sale items.

I worked in a toy store for five Christmas seasons. I have survived five Black Fridays, or as we called it in the industry "Green Fridays." To this day, I can handle a lot of pressure at work and can think on my toes because I worked in one of the top five toy stores in our chain, in the entire country, on the biggest shopping day of the year, five times. It was actually usually fun- they gave us food, drinks, we got an extra dollar as a bonus with our check. It was intended for us to get a refreshment, which was cute, since a bottle of Coke was already $1.05 at that point. We also occasionally received tips (there goes the $5 bucks you saved).

Tomorrow will be the 7th year I have not worked at the toy store on Black Friday, yet still it makes me anxious. While it was fun, I saw the lowest of the low in humanity during these times as well. Fighting, stealing, swearing, pushing, yelling, accusing, threatening, verbally assaulting. The police had to be called on several occasions. There was always a new "hot" toy. I didn't see the Furby until after Christmas, and I WORKED in a toy store. I remember them being returned a lot because they were stupid. And I remember them ending up on a sale endcap for $5 and no one wanted them.

But, everyone had to get up at 4 a.m. to get one because they heard they were supposed to. There weren't even really ads for the toys all that often, so kids didn't know about them, just their parents. Your 1-year-old doesn't know what a Tickle Me Elmo or a Sleep and Snore Ernie is, even though the people on the news told you to get her one. When she does meet them, she's going to think they are frightening and run away. If she could speak and knew the word "demon" she'd be sure to scream it.

When people tell me they are getting up for the sales, I try to tell them not to. Some people think it's fun; I think it sounds terrible. To each his own I guess. While trying to find a Youtube video of a stampede into a store on Black Friday, I instead came across something much more disturbing. I found a video someone had posted, taken from their camera phone, of a Walmart employee receiving CPR from an EMT crew. He died. He had been trampled by everyone rushing into the store.

I hate a lot of things, irrationally, and will admit that I have no reason to hate them. The memory of Black Fridays still stick with me, and don't think I'm crazy to hate them. Good luck and Godspeed to all of you who think it's worth it. You are probably already getting into your car to camp out to save a bunch of money on some overpriced item that you think someone should want.

I, on the other hand, can't sleep. I never slept before working a 4 a.m. to 4 p.m. shift. The past few years I have had trouble sleeping because I want to completely miss the insanity. I want to go to sleep when it begins and wake up when it's over. I am celebrating Blackout Friday.

Thankful

2009-11-25T23:29:00.002-05:00

I am thankful for the Muppets. I am thankful they are still active in pop culture. I am thankful that Electric Mayhem still rock after over 30 years. I am thankful that someone worthy of covering Queen did so and not some chumps.

Note: Beaker definitely says Me-me-me and never ever meep. Jus' sayin'.

Home is where the fart is

2009-11-24T23:32:00.003-05:00

I am living in my second apartment since moving into the city. The first, I found on Craigslist and made my decision over the course of a week. While it worked out all right, and my roommates were cool, it was never home. Actually, 3 out of the 5 people I lived with were cool. One was okay, but left in the middle of November and the rest of us were scrambling before the holidays to find a replacement or find $200 extra each to cover the rent. Her replacement constantly smoked pot and said it was just incense (who burns incense besides potheads?), left her dyed red hair in the shower drain, and being rude to all of us, including me, and all I did was ignore her because when she first moved in, I thought she was the cleaning lady.

In my second apartment, I am home. As a trio, we searched apartments, sometimes in pairs, in every combination of two possible. We had nachos and a drink over our decision to sign the lease on the place we loved. Then, we rallied the next day when we found out that apartment wasn't available. We even worked as a unit creeping out one of the realty agents on a hot July 3rd morning with mentions of baby chambers, bacon chambers, Buddha statues, and a life history of Bubbles the chimp. No, I don't know what a bacon chambers is, but I think the baby chambers was a room full of babies.

My first apartment mirrors the first room I had in college. No one really ever saw my room freshman year of college. I would prop the door open when people came, and then close it, and reopen it only to join them wherever we were going. Very few people saw my apartment last year. Being a huge dork for metaphors and television, I decided it was as if there was no money in the production budget (if my life was a TV show) to build a set for the dorm room or the apartment.

I always thought that it was because of the stuff. Freshman year, I didn't have my own computer at first. I had a lofted bed. No fridge. Few belongings, besides a Buffy poster. Sophomore year, I had a futon, fridge, posters and personal effects everywhere. But I also had a roommate I could be myself around.

I can remember the moment it felt like home. He farted. So, I farted. From then on, we could fart. That's disgusting, I know, but can you really ever be at home if you don't fart? Since I live with girls now, I don't run around farting, but I can be myself. I can do the weird things that I couldn't have done around my old roommates, without feeling all eyes on me, or feeling weird. Usually, they join in. We are all a little off, which is why we often say to each other "What are we?"

Now I can buy a tacky wreath and put swords from my Halloween costume through it as a decoration, because my roommate suggested it. While I do the dishes, and pick up several butter knives, it's okay if I start singing "I-look-like-Freddy Krueger/ when I was the dish-eeessss!" When I start humming a tune, and my roommate starts doing the Pee Wee Herman "Tequila" dance, I look at her, puzzled, because that's not the tune I was humming. But I like where her head's at, and that she is a weirdo just like me.

Back to the Future

2009-11-24T12:13:00.002-05:00

This past season I have been completely addicted to Dancing with the Stars. I wish I knew I would be so hooked, in which case I would have done weekly recaps here in this blog so you would know what was going on, too. Unfortunately for you, I missed that boat.

As the season draws to a close, to quote Donny Osmond, it is bittersweet. For the stars, they are sad to see their journey through the world of dance come to a end. For me, I am sad that Joanna and Derek didn't make it to the finals.

Last night, the stars did their final dances. One was a typical ballroom or Latin routine, the other was a medley where they all did the same choreography of three dances side by side, and the last was the most anticipated dance of the entire season: the freestyle. In past seasons, it is during the freestyle where people either flop or shine. This is usually the dance that separates the winners from the losers. In last night's case, none of them really stood out to me.

Over the course of the season Kelly Osbourne may have become a lady, but that didn't prevent her from falling all over the floor in her final dance. As Bruno put it (too nicely), she definitely captured the disco era with her freestyle decked out in silver sparkles. And yes, he was there so he knows. And yes, even back then people sometimes fell on the floor! I thought this was a professional dance competition? I thought falling was bad? I've noticed throughout the season that the judges seem to be sparing Kelly's feelings quite a bit, leaving the blunt criticism for other contestants. I do think she is slightly more sensitive than the rest and we probably don't want to see her cry every episode, but I think someone should have told her how disappointed we were to see her FALL ON THE FLOOR in the final episode during the final dance.

Then Mya came out and did a little ditty from Hairspray. We see in the video montage of their practice from the week before that Mya didn't want to do Hairspray. She wanted to move away from Broadway, throw in a little Vegas, and really do something risky and edgy. Dimitry, bless his heart, is really pushing for the Hairspray routine. Mya finally agrees. The end result includes an overwhelmingly colorful costume and a super saccharine performance. I specifically used the word saccharine because it was definitely fake sugar. The problem I have always had with Mya is that she is such a professional, I just always feel like she is acting. When she says that she had "so much fun with that dance," I can't help but think she has "fun" in the same way it is "fun" to get a cavity filled. She may be smiling, but I don't believe it.

Then out comes Donny with his "show stopping" performance. Yeah, I think it was the best freestyle this season (he didn't fall and it wasn't a snoozefest), but it was only show stopping because he literally stopped the show. And that's just because he went last. I have to say, I really like Donny. I think he is in a good place to win it because he is only 2 points behind Mya and is definitely the crowd favorite.

Who will win? To be honest, I don't know or really care. I wanted Joanna to win and she was eliminated last week. This was a real shame, because I am more than confident that Derek would have knocked our socks off with his choreography of the freestyle dance in the same way he did during their Paso Doble of the future. Instead, the last episode of Dancing just didn't meet my expectations. I'm so bummed out, I prefer to live in the previous episodes. The winners of this competition (in my head) are Joanna and Derek. I will give second place to Aaron Carter only because one of his routines was to the Muppet Show theme. Their "winning" dances are posted below.

First place in my book, Joanna and Derek's Paso:

Second place, Aaron Carter's Quick Step:

I believe the children are our future...I don't want to go to there

2009-11-23T22:08:00.005-05:00

On any given day, I receive a lot of dumb phone calls. Today I received a down-right frightening phone call. It was the 1,987th thing that has happened since I started working at the school that I makes me fear the future.

We sent out letters last week to all the students receiving an F at midterm. Out of about 1500 students, there are 500 students. There could be 1,500 actual Fs. Included with this letter are all of the resources that students should have been using all semester, but have not.

A father called in today to ask if he could speak to someone about the letter that came to his house about his son's failing grade. His wife opened it, even though it was addressed to his son. This man somehow made that sound like it was the school's fault. I had to explain to him three times that we sent the letter to the most recent address his son left with the school, and to his name. In some cases, students leave their parents addresses even though they live in the dorms or in apartments because that is a more permanent address. This student, however, still lived at home. Sooooo what is the issue?

The issue did not seem to be that the student is failing. His father asked why he was failing and I told him I don't know and until someone checks his FERPA, I couldn't tell him if I did know. No, the big question that this man had for me was, "How do I show him the letter without him know my wife open it?" That was not poor grammar on my part; that's how he asked, in a thick accent.

Why are you asking me, a single 27-year-old, how to run your household? I almost said "Just put it in another envelope" but that wasn't really the issue, and I'm not getting involved. I could tell you that it seems like you married an overbearing, intruding, distrusting woman back in the '80s, but that is not really helpful. I could tell you to stop paying for your son to go to school if he's wasting your money and everyone's time.

The thing that puts fear in me is the lack of fear for this kid. His father is concerned that he will be mad about the letter being opened. Understood, we used to get pissed if my mom opened mail, particularly admissions letters and report cards. Admissions letters should be opened by the children because it is their life and their dream. Usually, our report cards were given to us to bring home. Why? Because we could be trusted. And if our parents found out we were hiding anything, they would kill us.

This kid should be afraid that his mom is going to kill him and his dad is going to call him an idiot, and threaten to send him to the army. Instead his dad is afraid of him. Who is afraid of their kids? They were afraid of Macaulay Culkin in "The Good Son." His mom dropped him off a cliff.

No wonder kids today do whatever they want, go wherever they want, and talk to everyone however they want. They're not afraid of anyone. A lot of our students seem to be a little afraid of me. Why? Because I don't make idle threats, or buy into their excuses, or let them blame other people when they are the one with the problem.

All these parents need to say is "I brought you in this world, and I'll take you out!"

What up with that?

2009-11-22T21:18:00.005-05:00

When did Kenan become funny on SNL? I have always enjoyed him as French comedian Jean K. Jean, but that was mostly because I love bad French. I found him hilarious in these sketches.

Reba!

Political wiiilll!

Kristen Wiig is still my favorite, followed by Fred Armisen, Jason Sudekis, Bill Heder, and Andy Samberg.

If even Kenan is going to be funny, I'm going to start watching SNL a lot again this season.

Not cute

2009-11-22T20:25:00.003-05:00

I've only been dating for shortly over a year. For the most part, it has been good. So far I've had only one real nightmare date, and that was my fault for not going with my gut and instead, agreeing to a second date when one was enough. I have a pretty decent screening process in place, and for the most part it isn't that hard. In 9 out of 10 cases, I am done as of the first message.

Here are the some social networking site message qualities that will get you nowhere:

1. Too young. I have gotten messages from 19-year-olds. 18-year-olds. And 17-year-olds. Um, hi, I work at a college. Do you want homework help? I make about 105 TV and movie references everyday. Have you ever even seen The Facts of Life? Do you know that "That's what she said" dates back to at least Wayne's World, not The Office? I look fairly young- I know this because a 92-year-old told me I look like a kid and an 18-year-old, upon finding out how I old I was said "Twenty-" and only mouthed "seven." I look young, but you'll make me feel old.

2. Too old. On the flipside, I don't want to make anyone feel ancient. I also just think that old people are...gross. 30, still in my age range. 35, for the right person. I have been messaged by a 58-year-old, who tried to give me some sagely, condescending advice. Thanks, Yoda, I have a dad, and I don't listen to his advice.

3. Poor grammar. I'm not perfect. And in this blog, I don't really worry excessively over proper punctuation. If you're going to compliment my looks, though, you should be able to pull that off without coming off as stupid. I don't know how often I need to hear "Your cute." My cute what? It's "You're cute" and I know. Are you just into looks? Because I'm not.

4. Overly persistent. Two or three times, I have been messaged by the same individual 3 times. Did you forget you messaged me? How flattering! I love being forgotten! If not, desperation isn't cute.

5. Too bold. Someone sent me a message that read "I think I'm due for a Boston trip soon. U down?" Really? Whatever you heard about me, it isn't true.

Despite the awkwardness I have read, this one was my favorite.

"Hell no, Tim! I'd not make you sleep on the couch and just watch me. That'd be so like, rude.
My profile is referring to sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Not watching someone. Where did this come from, perv?
And you gotta be kidding me! 1984 is MY favorite book (along with Lord of the Flies). And Queen is MY favorite band (along with Yes). Too much! Look at my profile. See?
So you have decent, but not all THAT unique taste. 1984 is a phenomenal book, but a lot of people like it. If you don't like at least a Queen song, then you are useless. Too much? Not enough! And, how do I know you didn't add them your profile just now?

AND, I write ... comedy sketches! And I taught a workshop in comedy writing. So just what are you tryin to do here, Tim? Be me? You can't. That position's already filled, by me. But if you'd like to talk about different positions, now that might be cool.
So far you're not funny, so your sketches probably suck and you're a creep so you shouldn't be allowed to teach anything. Be you? I am pretty sure I'm better than you, and I don't feel bad saying it. Other positions? You're 40. Can you even get in that many positions? And also, gross.

I also play piano professionally (umm, yea, as opposed to unprofessionally).
Within this context...not at all cool or sexy.

Hope to hear from you, runner-boy!
Nice nickname, douche.

Three words: Nice Little Saturday

2009-11-20T23:28:00.003-05:00

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.
College Student: A big day? Doing what?
Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.
-Old School

I like to think sometimes that I am young, and fairly hip. Actually, no I don't. I don't like to be too serious and I would hate it if I couldn't let loose, so in that way, I'm young at heart. On the other hand, I've been an old man since I was about 4. So at 27, I am ancient. Friday nights I feel more ancient than any other time.

Earlier in the evening, around 6, I went out for dinner and then afterward, for some drinks. That's right, 6, almost early bird time. I was in by 10. I am happy about that.

Tomorrow, I have big plans. The roommates and I are going to The Dollar Tree store and getting Christmas decorations. We will do this after taking a stroll and getting some breakfast together. Later I plan to meet up with a friend. Maybe chat; a light dinner. I am very excited about a relaxing day, without any crazy plans or places to run off to, or parties to attend.

Saturday night could go either way. On Saturday nights, I could be content sitting in, but usually I want to get out and have fun. Part of me is slowing down. I still have the energy in me for one big weekend night. This should work out nicely, so that I still have a night to meet people, but I will already be ready to settle down. Because, well...I'm old as fuck.

I love my nice little Saturdays.

My December Forecast

2009-11-20T14:10:00.003-05:00

You probably have no idea how much I believe in things like horoscopes, palm readings, tea leaves, feng shui, superstitions, fortune cookies and the like. Freshman year of college, I captured my feelings about hopes and dreams in a box that was decorated to represent all of the opportunities one has to make wishes come true. The result of this art assignment was so moving that a professor walking by opened up the top (which revealed an array of feathers and beads and bells and magic) and said, “I want to blow” [That’s what she said].

I won’t deny that I hung words of wisdom on my wall that quoted Disney movies and Winnie the Pooh. As a birthday gift, some of my home friends gave me books on how to read palms and tarot cards. Why, because they thought I’d appreciate it. Oh and I did. I read the shiznit out of all of their palms that birthday, while wearing a headscarf and consulting my crystal ball. When meeting someone for the first time, I immediately consult the Birthday Book to determine if we are compatible as friends or lovers. I take fortune cookies seriously, cherishing the tiny scraps of paper as they hide in my wallet or stick tacked on a bulletin board until they come true.

Over the years, this passion of mine has become slightly more subdued. Or maybe people are just used to it by now; no one has really noted it as odd when I yell at people for stepping on the cracks (lest they break their mothers’ backs) or remind them to make a wish at 11:11am. The thing is, I take this stuff seriously. I am not about to ruin my luck and mess with the fates due to some careless error like opening an umbrella indoors (the horror! Even thinking about that makes me cringe).

Now that you know this about me, it should come to no surprise to you that I recently got a fortune that told me come winter success would rain down on me and I believed it. Then, just this morning I read my December horoscope and it so completely applies to my life. To prove it, I am going to outline it here (with my comments in green) and you can be the judge.

TAURUS (Apr 20- May 20) [My birthday totally falls between those dates!]

The full moon on the 2nd could bring good news about a hefty bundle of cash. [I should hear about a job by then. I think this means I am going to get it. Watch that success rain down on me this winter, my friends! This could also apply to my field hockey check that I should get no later than Awards night, which is on, you guessed it, Dec 2.]

Still, continue to watch yourself. By mid-month, your spending may have exceeded your estimates. [Just last night, I totally made a spending estimate spreadsheet for December in the case I were to get the job and needed to move back to Boston relatively speedily. But I didn’t take into account the holidays and gifts and parties and drinking and all that. Maybe I need to recalculate. As we learned from Flash Forward, you can change the future].

Your enthusiasm for finding the perfect solution to a home-related matter will be strong in December, but with Mars going retrograde on the 20th, it would be best to hurry this project along. Once Mars is out of orbit, your progress will slow. [This must mean that provided I get this job, I should try to find a place to live before the 20th. Totally makes sense. If I were to wait til after, we’d hit the holidays and that’s the time of year I sit around and avoid undecorating the Christmas tree].

Romantically, you’ll be at your best from the 25th until Mid-January. Travel is coming on strong late in the month, so take a distant trip abroad with someone you love. [I’m losing steam on proof here, but the job I applied for is travel related, so maybe that’s what is coming on strong at the end of the month. I can never predict my love life, so I am going to stay out of that one. It seems like bad luck.]

the weirdest of the weird

2009-11-19T21:42:00.006-05:00

So, for a long while I've been wondering about the source of my weirdness. I don't try to deny it- that would be pointless, and anyways I'm not ashamed of it. But I would like to know where it came from. I've always known I was a bit odd, I'm pretty sure most people are, but I just don't know enough to keep it under wraps.

I know there are some quirks I got straight from my parents. Take my love of sock monkeys, for example. (Thanks, Mom!). Or, my aversion to wristwatches and dogs. (Wow, Dad, you too?). The roots of some (most) quirks are harder to pinpoint. Like my obsession with DJs and my refusal to get a "real" job. But, seriously, I wanted to know where exactly I strayed off the path towards a normal existence.

The other day, when visiting my mom after a delightful trip to the dentist (no cavities!) I think I got my answer. I marched upstairs (past my childhood clown collection) and started rooting through my sister's closet. Something was calling to me but I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. Then I found it:

My Gizmo pillowcase!!!!! More specifically, the root of all my weirdness. The moment I saw it, childhood memories came flooding back. I couldn't believe how much it reminded me of being young.

And then I started thinking about it. I had those sheets from approximately ages 2 to 8. Who in their right mind gives a small child a gremlin to sleep on? "Here baby, we know you have problems sleeping. We know you are a small child with a room full of clowns smiling down on you waiting to kill you in your sleep. So to make it all ok we will surround you in your bed with gremlins waiting to attack you from all sides. Sweet dreams!" There's no way I could be a normal human being after that experience.

So of course I had to bring it back with me and put it on my bed. Because as a 2 year old, it's just creepy. But as a 27 year old, it's ironic. But no matter what age, it's super weird. And that's what I like to be.

Facilitate!

2009-11-19T19:36:00.002-05:00

We have a student worker who can't be trusted to do even the simplest tasks in my office. Today I had a brainstorm and thought of something that needed to be done, would get her out of our hair for a while, and would give her something to do. This task was shredding old files, that are unnecessary and take up space we could use for other things. I'm kind of on a cleaning streak at work, in light of being twice restructured, and hopefully expanding my job scope and responsibilities.

On top of it getting things done, keeping her occupied, and taking a long time so I don't have to be bothered giving her something else to do, she wanted to do it. She was excited to use the shredder. I'll admit, it is kind of fun. I sent her off on her merry little way. She was happy. I was happy. My boss was happy. And brownie points for me for thinking of something so simple but that needs to be done.

About 20 minutes later, the student came back because there was a problem. The bin for the paper at the bottom of the shredder was full. In the past, facilities would come and empty the bins, because they make a ridiculous amount of mess, and dust, and we can't just throw them in with the regular recycling or trash. I knew before calling facilities that they were going to say this isn't their job.

I disagree. Facilities wears jeans and old raggedy clothing. Why? Because as the cleaning lady in my freshman dorm said, "You are here to clean, not for the social aspects of life!" I don't really ask much of them, but we wear different clothes to work for a reason. I have to follow a dress code because I work in an office. I must look neat, professional, and presentable. There are days when I get a little lax and wear sneakers. Sometimes on Wednesdays I wear jeans, just for scuz. Today, however, I was dressed particularly nice. And in my nice clothes, there are often times where I have to run up and down the stairs, climb under desks to move computers, rearrange furniture, sharpen pencils, and several times completely clean and overhaul an office or room.

Today, in my charcoal slacks and black button down, I emptied the bin into a plastic bag, so as to minimize the dust, even though it still caused the student worker to cough. This is probably not proper, but then, I'm not facilities.

What is my point? If I am supposed to dress pretty but do facilities-type jobs, then why do the people who don't do facilities type jobs get to dress like slobs and not speak English? I would love to do that. Someone could come in looking for a tutor and I could just say "No comprendo, bitches and then lift my paint-stained jean leg up and put my sneakers on the desk." Either they start dressing real pretty like me, or start doing the things that might actually make them messy. Otherwise, it's jeans and a ripped tee for me from now on.

Because I am an expert

2009-11-19T16:16:00.008-05:00

Holy mashed potatoes, batman, two posts in one day from me. Normally if I posted earlier in the day, I purposely wait at least a day to post again. Mainly to keep you guys coming back for more. Today is a horse of a different color.

Just the other day I picked up a copy of Elle magazine to read while taking the bus back to CT. Normally I don't read Elle. But Sarah Jessica Parker was on the cover and inside was an interview with Alec Baldwin. Plus, I love the December issues of even the most mediocre of magazines. There is something about seeing sparkly jewelry and expensive gifts that get me into the holiday spirit. After getting through 10 pages of ads before even hitting an article or editor's letter or even the table of contents, I wanted to throw the magazine out the bus emergency exit window. But I powered on, convinced that this mag would surprise me since obviously they knew what the people wanted (SJP and Alec Baldwin).

By the time I got to the articles I had purchased the magazine for, I was wishing I had read them standing up at the magazine kiosk in the bus station. Because that's all the time these poorly written excuses for journalism were worth. And that's saying a lot. The charm of Sarah Jessica Parker was completely lost on the reader and the comedic likeability of Alec Baldwin didn't even exist. In my head, I said, "Who is Elle hiring these days?" Then I remembered. Elle is too busy hiring people like Olivia Palermo and shooting episodes of the City, to possibly get real writers to do their jobs. Since I am unemployed and a wish-I-could-be-a-writer-but-make-no-real-effort-aside-from-this-blog, I take real offense to this. Put me in a room with Sarah Jessica Parker, Alec Baldwin, and a laptop and I will give you one hell of an entertaining and well written story. I promise.

I thought I got over this and have been trying to make it through the rest of the magazine over the course of the past couple of days. I spent money on that pile of pages and I will read every last one. Then I read Tim's post and got fired up all over again. Did someone really get paid to write an article about alleged photo-shopping of Demi Moore's thigh?

Since I am an expert on aesthetics, here is my opinion on the subject. Since Demi Moore is extremely fit and is clearly standing in contrapposto, there was no chunk of thigh removed from this photo. Do you need more proof? Excellent, I love to put my knowledge of Art History to good use.

Take a look at this photo of Michelangelo's David:
Now compare it to the pose that Demi Moore is striking on her W cover:

You can see how she is standing just like the David, her weight on one foot. Since I don't have Illustrator on my computer, you will have to use your sparkling imagination to draw (in your head) a sarong on the David just like Demi's. Can you picture it? If you leave that little scrap of leg showing, it is going to look as though there is a discrepency between the top of the leg and the rest of the thigh. Why? Because of the way the weight is distributed throughout the body. Because of things we like to call 'muscles.' Because our legs don't just go straight down. That's what we call a peg leg, and only pirates have those.

Because Demi has killer thigh muscles, which you can see above, the way the sarong cuts across makes it look like there has been some photo-editing at first glance. However, after looking at it again and understanding the human body in the way Michelangelo did (although he only really understood men), I am going to say there was no editing (aside from the normal airbrushing), and you are going to believe me, because I have 4 years of Art History under my belt, and I used Michelangelo's David as an example. I'm an expert.

Itsy bitsy spider

2009-11-19T13:15:00.003-05:00

I woke up this morning thinking about spiders.

This was largely due to the fact that I had a run in with one of the creepy little creatures last night in my bedroom. After a failed attempt at expunging it from my life, I suffered through fits of nightmares about spiders crawling up my legs and into my mouth.

If you asked me, I wouldn't say I am scared of spiders. They wouldn't even make my top 10 list of things of which I am scared. But, if a spider happened to appear on my arm in the next 10 seconds, I would likely start shrieking uncontrollably, paralyzed by dormant fear. Spiders aren't a blip on my radar, otherwise.

Last night, as I scooped the spider off the wall with ease and professionalism and flung it into the hallway only later to realize now I had no idea where the spider was but at least it was no longer in close proximity to my face, I realized how silly it was to be afraid of spiders.

My reasoning? I can outrun a spider.

Think about it--- sure, spiders are creepy. Normally, when I see a spider, I freeze. A chill runs down my spine. I contemplate stepping on it while slowly backing myself into a corner as it sneaks closer and closer. The one thing I never think to do is run. And why not? I just did a little research and this is what I found:

The fastest spider in the world (Giant House Spider Tegenaria Duellica) moves at a rate of 1.73 ft/sec. This is about 104 ft/min. If an average human can run a mile in 12 min, that human is going at a rate of 440 ft/min. So, in one minute, the human will get 4 times as far as even the fastest spider.

Although a spider has as many legs as Octo-Mom has infants, that doesn't make it any faster than a 2 legged human. If you take a giant step over the spider and run, it won't catch up with you. In fact, when you get back to the scene of the spider spotting, I guarantee you it will still be there, in its own little spider daydream.

So, if anyone out there is afraid of spiders, problem solved... you can thank me later.

It's hip to be square

2009-11-18T23:42:00.006-05:00

It annoys me sometimes what can be called news, or journalism, or interesting, or gossip. I will write about it here, because I promise to be none of those things.

The Yahoo! front page had this as their feature story:

Demi Demi Moore Demi Moore Demi Demi Moore...

Basically, the article is saying that W photoshopped a huge chunk of Demi Moore's thigh off and then shows a closeup picture. I have taken the closeup and with my excellent Illustrator skills, have shown that there would be a clear path beneath the sarong from her thigh to her hip.

Demi is old, and very pointy. At the same time, she is kind of hot. I think it's stupid and irresponsible for someone to try to create controversy- insinuating that W is trying to pull a fast one on everyone- without thinking about it. And also, someone got paid to put this on Yahoo! It is pointless for me to comment, but I ain't gettin' paid squat.

My new boooyfriend

2009-11-17T22:42:00.009-05:00

This product, the Boyfriend Pillow, is not new; but, I had forgotten of its existence. It will be the first in a new feature called "Products We Hate."

It is probably the only time that having a boyfriend seems lamer than having a husband, as in the husband pillow:

This one features the delightful young cast of High School Musical. What a fun hubby!

The boyfriend pillow is creepy. Does it really need a hand on it? If you feel the need to have fake hands covered in fabric touching you, you should probably kill yourself. Who are you pretending is touching you wearing gloves? A scarecrow? Michael Jackson? Michael Jackson as a scarecrow? Straw aside, it would probably be more comfortable snuggling up with this scarecrow and his weird bizarro Garfield appendages.

Is the arm of the chair this sad woman is sitting in not enough support? Sadder and weirder still are the ads that show the women in bed with the "boyfriend." The name is appropriate, because any man that enters your life and sees this thing is quickly leaving, and you'll need your pillow to support you and hold you in its gloved embrace. Sadly it isn't easily hidden away in a drawer like other boyfriends.

Perhaps men and women who grew up in the '80s remember fondly their Pillow People friends. Come to think of it, I haven't seen ads featuring men. The makers of the Boyfriend Pillow are not very progressive. Anyways, I wish I still had my Pillow Person- I had the Pillow Fighter. I don't recall him having such a sad face. And even though I recall him having smooth, silky gloves, I wouldn't cuddle with him. The bruise on his face showed that he wasn't much of a fighter, but that doesn't mean he's a lover either. I wouldn't cuddle with him because, well, that's just sad. I wouldn't personally do this, but if you want to cuddle, at least get a dog. Because as they say, "It's YOUR dog."

Oh and ladies, check out that fabbo turquoise shirt on the boyfriend. Your boyfriend pillow probably has a boyfriend pillow of his own- maybe a Slanket.

Life as a TV show

2009-11-16T22:56:00.003-05:00

Obviously, TV shows are an example of art imitating life. Sometimes, though, life imitates this art form right back.

I'm not just talking about the ridiculous things that happen that make you feel like the butt of life's scripted jokes. Do you ever have those things happen to you that make you feel like you're a TV character, because no one would really appreciate it except for an audience that knows your character? I point to the classic example of myself in college, walking to class, when suddenly, my underwear fell out of my pants. No one witnessed this. At the time I was so confused that my first response was to grab the elastic around my waist to make sure they hadn't somehow shimmied down my leg to the pavement. This was not the case; the pair on the ground had clung to the inside of my jeans and loosened during the walk. My pants were much baggier then, which was the style at the time. Oh, I also weighed 2-hundo.

There are hundreds of these classic moments, and sometimes life finds a way of bring them together like the best TV writers. Last fall, rushing on my way to a date, I was splashed by a car going through a puddle left from the rain earlier in the day. No, not puddle- small pond. Not car- giant SUV. Not splashed- hit by a 6 foot wall of water that left me looking like I sat in the front row at a Sea World killer whale show. I ran uphill, in Chucks mind you, because I was going to a concert, so I had to look real cool, back to my apartment, and changed the jeans and hoodie. The tee shirt stayed unharmed. A short while later, my friend, who happens to be fond of DJs invited me out for drinks. Her and her friends discussed their crush on one in particular. Later, I told her I had gone on three dates with him. I was complimented on not doing a "Saved By The Bell" spit take earlier in the night.

*Flashback: she often flirted or spoke with DJs at college events and bars. We her laughed this was when the following dialogue was exchanged: "I just like DJs." "We know."*

At some point in every TV show, and in life, we become caricatures of ourselves. In the later seasons of TV shows, characters are so well known, we just "get" them. The writers don't have to try as hard as they did writing them.

Jerry Seinfeld was always portrayed as a neatfreak and obsessive. In one of the later episodes, we see him throwing out shoelaces because they touched the floor of a men's room.

My friends from college and I had our sixth "Geeks Thanksgiving" yesterday. This is a tradition we started right after graduation, and have not skipped one since. It's nice to know that some things change, but some things stay the same.

Erin tells us how she tells her kindergartners "That's ridiculous, go away" when they're bothering her.
Liz makes weird noises and when we make fun of her defends herself in a high pitched squeal.
Courtney drinks a 20 oz. bottle of Coke at dinner because she doesn't like anything healthy, and doesn't like "grownup drinks." Twisted Tea does not count.
Keith has a new hobby, making jewelry.
Those of us at justforscuz volunteer to sit at the kids table, which is fitting since we refuse to take part in adult relationships or proper adult behavior.

With life moving forward-people getting engaged, married, soon having kids- it's good that we can count on our friends to stay who they are when that's what we need. That's why we loved them in the first place.

Our TV show ended. We don't see each other often enough for there to be a series based around our interconnected lives. It's sad, but all good things must come to an end. As I said when "FRIENDS" had its finale, which we all watched together, "I'm glad we're ending when we are." My roommate looked at me and said "We're ENDING?" like I was an idiot. And I love that somewhere across the ocean in Spain, he's probably rolling his eyes at something I've done that he can just sense.

We have all moved on to spinoffs. Some survived and some did not. I like to think that mine is still going, because fortunately it's based on hating my job and being awkward at dating. That won't change anytime soon.

It's nice to know that once a year we can have our TV Reunion Special: Geeks Thanksgiving.

One for me, one for you

2009-11-15T22:49:00.003-05:00

In 2009, I had 2 big personal accomplishments, about which you are probably sick of reading. The first was enrolling in Sketch writing classes at ImprovBoston. The second was running the Providence Marathon.

The former, writing class, had a clear outcome from the beginning: Level 1 to begin writing and getting my ideas on paper; Level 2 to hone my skills, explore different types of sketches; Level 3, work with classmates to write, cast, and produce a show. The latter, the marathon, was much more open-ended: I could run the Providence Marathon again; I could run the Boston Marathon; I could focus on improving my speed on shorter races.

I did both of these things for me. They were personal accomplishments. I began writing class alone, and though I have made new friends in the class, it will remain a personal accomplishment when all is said and done, and has hopefully gone well. I began training for the marathon because I was inspired by my friends who were mentoring a group of high school students. Although I trained with them a couple times, and ran the race alongside them, I ran my own race and finished before the rest of the group.

I am definitely taking Level 3 this winter, on Saturday afternoons. I want to run with team Dreamfar in Providence in 2010, which involves early morning runs on Saturdays. The first roadblock in my mind is that runs may interfere with class. I realized that this will probably only happen a few times, if ever. The second roadblock was the thought that if I do run, I will be running as a pace group leader. I won't be running the race for me. I won't be trying to improve on my time from last year. It won't be my own race. I thought to myself if I would be all right with that.

Quickly, I figured it out. Was I any less proud of my friends who finished after me? Was I less proud of the students who finished after me, including one who had lost his mother just days before? Was I less proud of the kid who was told to stop trying because his body seized, but he wanted to finish, even if walking? Was I less proud of the girl who was the very last person to finish the race, after the finish line had been deconstructed and whose finish line was composed of her family, friends, and fellow runners?

No. That is what I remember most, more than my own run. I was proud of myself, but I was more proud of each one of those people. I can't imagine the pride my friends felt after mentoring those students for months. I want to be part of that, more than I was this year.

In 2010, I will be writing for and acting in my first comedy show. That is for me. I will also be training for a marathon. That will be for others. It won't be for personal gain or accomplishment, but somehow I think it will be more than worth it. I can't help if it still leads to personal growth.

March 19, 2010 SketchHaus
May 2, 2010 Providence Marathon

Let's slap bet on that

2009-11-14T00:19:00.008-05:00

I love Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving mainly because I love pumpkin pie (and Thanksgiving is the only holiday where you are guaranteed a pumpkin pie, except if you are a brat and request it on your birthday--which is in May-- out of spite because no one will make you a strawberry dream cake), but also because I love the movie Home for the Holidays. If I could eat pumpkin pie and watch Home for the Holidays every day of the year, I would probably do it and it would never get old.

Aside from those superficial reasons, I do also like the special events that surround this glorious day. One such event is our annual Geeks' Thanksgiving, where all of my close college friends gather around the turkey to enjoy each others' company (and of course, watch Home for the Holidays). Our "family" thanksgiving is happening this Sunday and I have been looking forward to it all week. Thinking of my friends' version of the beloved holiday reminded me of the Thanksgiving episode of How I Met Your Mother entitled,"Slapsgiving."

I love How I Met Your Mother almost as much as I love pumpkin pie. I am not going to go so far as to say How I Met Your Mother is the new Friends, but it is a very funny show. What's great about this program is that the things they do remind me of things that my friends would do.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the show or the Slapsgiving episode, here is the basic recap: Barney and Marshall make a slap bet that is worth 5 slaps. Barney loses. Lily is assigned the role as the Slap Bet Commissioner. Instead of slapping Barney immediately (as is normally the process as soon as a slap bet is over), Marshall opts to slap Barney at random over the course of the next few months/years. By the time the days prior to Thanksgiving roll around, Marshall has already given Barney 2 slaps. He had set up a website with a countdown to the next slap, which is to happen on Thanksgiving day. Barney is freaked out. Lily gets mad her Thanksgiving will be ruined and declares that there will be no slaps on Thanksgiving. But, within the last 10 seconds of the slap countdown, Lily changes her mind about the no slap rule, Marshall slaps Barney, then Marshall sings a song. It's amazing. [I can't wait for slaps 4 and 5; they haven't happened yet].

An excerpt from "Slapsgiving":

Anyway, I had forgotten about this episode until I was watching HIMYM this past week, and Ted and Marshall made a quick slap bet at the bar. Once Ted won, he slapped Marshall. A very minor detail in the entire episode, but it's the continuity in this show that makes it great.

Thus, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I have a proposal to make. Now, starting now, let's resolve all disagreements by Slap Bets.

I might seem like I am kidding, but I am not. Let's take a regular bet, for example. The standard way to deal with a bet is to use money as terms. If I win, you give me $20. If you win, I give you $20. But, money isn't really fair unless both parties involved have the exact same amount of money. $20 to me might be like $1,000 to you based on what you have in your bank account. Percents would be better, but when's the last time you heard a high roller say, "I'll take you for 10% of your net worth"? The answer to that question is never. Never.

A slap bet is the world's equalizer. No one likes to be slapped. Everyone likes to slap. Everyone has the ability to be slapped and to slap.* Think about how much closer we'd be to World Peace, if it was only one slap away.....And I rest my case.

*I know what you are about to say: What about people who are paralyzed, don't have arms, are missing half their face, etc? In those cases, I think we all could agree on a slap proxy. Someone to give or receive slaps on behalf of the affected party as needed.

What the meep?

2009-11-12T22:44:00.002-05:00

I saw a blip about this on the news, and then researched further on the interweb.

Meep banned in schools

In essence, students at Danvers High School, have been saying "Meep" too much. According to the article, and the 7 News teaser, "Meep" is the catchphrase of Beaker from the Muppets.

I don't think so. Beaker, if anything, says Mee-mee-mee. He also speaks and repeats what Bunsen Honeydew is saying, but with more Ms and Es. Rarely does he add a P. His drawbridge mouth might not even be capable of it.

None of these beakers say Meep. Yet, Muppet marketing has coined his phrase as meep. This proves that kids will just buy into anything, even if not true. Kid are dumb.

You know who says "Meep?" The Roadrunner. He thinks it's so nice, he says it twice. Are these kids trying to be the roadrunner? No, because the Looney Tunes are kind of lame.

How dare anyone try to ban something that's annoying because the Muppets say it? Muppets are people too! This is a slippery slope and soon we'll be living in a Orwellian 1984 where we don't have enough words to express our feelings or thoughts. Next will be ban the gays' "Hey, girl, hey"? What if in 2001 we banned the mostly-black "Holla" and its white cousin "Holler"?

In conclusion, there is so much ignorance in this world, even in a liberal state like Massachusetts. These ignorant children are confusing the adorable attempts of a puppet-mad-scientists assistant to express his feelings despite his debilitating speech impediment with the cackle of some jerk cartoon bird who's always attempting to kill a coyote, when he could just run away and leave it at that. And trying to ban something that the Muppets say? That's just straight up racist.

Lazy

2009-11-12T14:05:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I am quite possibly the laziest person in the universe. I am not embarrassed to admit this here, because laziness at home usually translates into efficiency in the workplace. When I worked at The Company, if I needed to go see someone about a mistake in a document while simultaneously craving a diet coke, I made sure to put the correct change in my pocket before heading over. No need for two trips if the convenience machine was located along the route to my co-workers desk. I'm also a big fan of the 'Let's get everyone in the room' meeting, so you can brainstorm and come up with a plan in one fell swoop, instead of doing it bit by bit. This usually condenses what could end up a months-long futile project into a one-day quickly rejected plan.

Now that I don't have a job and the closest thing I have to co-workers are the cast of The Office (I can't wait to check in tonight to see what shenanigans have arisen at work this past week), I've realized my brilliance at doing the least possible amount of work to complete a task is quickly fading. Simply put, I am so out of practice I don't even think we can call what I am doing as efficient anymore. It's just laziness. I can't even be bothered to come up with a clever title. What am I saying when I say 'Lazy'? I'm lazy? You're lazy? We all scream for lazy? You'll be lucky if I even spell-check this bad boy.

The problem with my laziness is that I am also oddly anal about certain things. One of these such things is my gmail inbox. I HATE with a capital H-A-T-E unread emails. I don't understand how some people can constantly have unread mail hanging out for an eternity. At the same time, there are certain emails I don't ever plan on reading. If I let them, they'd lurk in my inbox, bold and unweilding, forever haunting me and begging me to please open them to find out how much I can save at Sephora this week. As much as I hate these messages (usually coupons or updates from some charity I donated to once because someone I knew was roller skating down Newbury Street wearing a santa hat and a bikini), I also refuse to unsubscribe to the mailing because I am a packrat. I just might need that email one day when I want to save on MegaWatt MegaLash Dramatic Length Sparkly-Ho Mascara.

These unread emails test my laziness. I am WAY too lazy to open up the email. That would involve a click on the mouse, waiting for it to load, then clicking on 'back to inbox' (2 clicks per email). For a while, I was clicking on 'select unread' then clicking on 'mark as read' then clicking on 'select none' because I also hate when things are randomly selected (3 clicks per group of emails). I quickly realized (today)that that method was only useful if I had more than one unread email that qualified as too useless to read but not useless enough to permanently delete.

Meanwhile, I am on gmail all the time so there is a constant war between my natural inclination to be lazy (let the unread emails sit there) to my obsession with what I like to call a 'clean' inbox (doing something about it).

Recently, I had a breakthrough (this was partly because my 'clean' inbox was littered with 'marked as read' junk mail). I don't have to do anything at all. I've delegated this OCD responsibility to gmail itself. I've now set up over 15 filters on my account that automatically label, mark as read, and archive my coupons, charity emails, facebook messages, etc. When I am in the mood, I click on my labels to see what's new in the world of Sephora, DSW, and Autism Speaks.

All of that said, since I don't have an inbox to meticulously maintain, I'm bored. I guess I will spell check this post.

Van Gogh on girl!

2009-11-10T23:43:00.003-05:00

"What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"- Vincent Van Gogh

I had dinner with a very good friend tonight, to wish him well on an upcoming endeavor. I gave him a card with this quote from Vincent Van Gogh. He didn't read it until after dinner, and after we made a failed attempt at Stump Trivia. I think most of our points were earned because of my excessive television viewing for most of my childhood.

He gave me something too. He gave me some news that put things in perspective for me. This news made me realize I need to be more of a complete person. I need to move forward. I need to go on. Every once in a while, we deserve to take a break and sit tight in our lives. The longer we rest, the less we live. I have been resting on this one for a while.

I have attempted a few things Since last September: living on my own, comedy writing class, a 10K, half marathon, a full marathon, zumba, cardio funk, this blog, dating. These all stemmed from being comfortable with myself. Maybe I'll never be entirely comfortable with myself. All of these things were a long time coming. Since last September I have made some progress. Then I rested.

Tonight I need to stop resting, and keep living, no matter the outcome. First I'll need some courage. And by that, I mean wine.

Costco

2009-11-09T22:15:00.003-05:00

"I'm sort of like Costco. I'm big, I'm not fancy and I dare you to not like me."- Cam, Modern Family. If you don't watch Modern Family, you should.

I have signed up for a Cosco membership today. It's closer than BJ's, although I still sort of feel like I'm cheating. I feel like I'm drinking Pepsi and not Coke. It's not quite as bad as going to Starbucks when there's a Dunkin' Donuts within 5 miles.

This is a new adventure for me. I had a BJ's membership before, but that was because I was buying things for the school store in Walpole. It was $40. I bought enough things during the course of the year to save $40, so it was worth it, on top of it being necessary. Now begins my challenge of saving at least $50 at Costco this year to make it worth it.

The thing about Costco is, it's overwhelming. I don't have room in my freezer for the amount of frozen pizzas I can buy together; I would spill the huge bags of Dunkin' Donuts coffee everywhere, and I like mayonnaise but I don't need to swim in a vat of it. Oatmeal was a good deal, but I really only want the Maple Brown Sugar. Once I plow through those, I'll have 36 bags of oatmeal I don't want to eat.

Tonight I decided it was enough to get the membership and a couple of items. Earlier tonight, I had a hankering for Sushi. Sushi, I got. $5.49 for 16 pieces. If I went to Mr. Sushi down the street, I would have paid $13.33 for the same amount. I also got string cheese- 48 of them for $7.99. I think that is about what you pay for 24 at Stop&Shop. Finally, the thing I buy most often- peanut butter. I got two 48 oz. jars for $8.39. Usually it's $3.29 for 16.3 oz.

Mr. Sushi 16 pieces of California roll- $13.33
Stop and Shop 48 pieces of string cheese $15.98
Stop and Shop peanut butter- 96 oz.- $19.38
Total: $48.69
Costco total: $21.87

Savings: $26.82

I've saved the price of half a year's membership on 3 items. I think I'm gonna like Costco. I can't wait till my coupons are valid starting on the 12th. Time to start clipping.

That's a deal breaker, ladies!

2009-11-09T19:42:00.007-05:00

Pretty much every day I have a series of pointless skype conversations with a friend of mine who lives out in Denver (we will call her B). In every conversation, B has a new guy that we need to discuss. It's my job as her friend to tell her that they are losers. If she likes him, he's probably a loser (a tattooed, slacker, commitment-phobe loser). If she doesn't like him, he's definitely a loser (a potentially homeless, clingy loser) and she needs to get rid of him and quickly. Because I consider myself a Liz Lemon-type expert on loser guys, I get to make the call on whether or not he is worth giving a shot. I mean, since I have never met these guys and I only hear her one-sided version of every story, this makes perfect sense. But, it's what we do. And it is fun. And I never get tired of using the phrase "deal breaker." Because B is constantly meeting these loser guys, I can't help but wonder.... Do these guys even know that the things they are doing are deal breakers? Do they care?

As a public service to the dating world, I am going to outline some deal breakers here. Please don't hate me if I mention something you do. Learn from it.

Doesn't have a job, a cell phone, or a dollar bill for dollar drinks during happy hour-- DEAL BREAKER
I've been writing this mini-article in my head about how the economy is the number 1 reason why I am single. Everyone has blamed the economy for everything else that is going wrong in their lives, why can't I apply it to my love life? My reasoning behind this is that guys are no longer out there spending their disposable income on drinks for me. They just don't have the disposable income anymore and they need all the money they have to drown their own sorrows, mine not included. What I am saying is, I totally understand being unemployed. Half of my friends don't have jobs right now, and the other half are underemployed. Okay, you lost your job and bills are too much to handle. Then, your phone bill goes by the wayside and it gets turned off. I get it. You've had some bad luck and it is a real bummer. And yes, we appreciate you were able to call multiple times despite the fact you don't have a phone. But one question remains: why did you ask to meet up with a girl for Happy Hour if you can't afford the dollar drinks? I'm not saying the guy needs to buy all of the drinks (although he should offer--- dating etiquette says that the one who does the asking does the paying), but at the very least he should be able to contribute to the tab. Also, if he doesn't have a lot of money, and he picks a particularly inexpensive venue that offers dollar drafts, he definitely shouldn't be ordering Bourbon and then asking his date to cover the cost. I don't care about the calorie count, man. Nut up and drink a cheap beer if that's all you can afford. Don't you have any pride?

Wants to see and be near you all the time, and you've only known each other for just over a week-- DEAL BREAKER
Since I've only really lived in Boston, it's hard for me to know what kinds of guys live out in the rest of the world. I am used to being picked up in a bar and then just as quickly dropped when the next pretty girl walks by. Finding a boyfriend in Boston is like winning the lottery. You play the numbers game (he collects all the numbers), and once in a million your number is chosen and you win. Yay! In other places, guys seem to latch on a little more, try a little harder. If they take your number, they sometimes call you the very next day. In some ways, I find this charming and sweet. I am not one for the "wait 3 days before you call" rule. I think that's stupid. If a guy wants to call, he should call. The problem arises when he calls multiple times before getting a response, wonders why you didn't call him when you were going to a party on the weekend (yes, I know the fact it was free works for your empty wallet), and insists on cuddling on the couch before you are really ready for cuddling on couches. I guess part of my issue with this one is I am (what's the word for selfish that's nice?) a very independent person and I don't like anyone cramping my style. I'm also very suspicious. If someone wants to come over to my apartment on a Sunday night just to hang out, I know what they really want: my leftovers from dinner. I'm sure this sort of tactic might work on some girls. For me.... it's a deal breaker, ladies.

Gives out backhanded compliments instead of real ones-- DEAL BREAKER
If someone tells you are pretty because even that horrible haircut you just got doesn't prevent you from being cute, I only have three words: Shut. It. Down.

Makes you feel like a unicorn--- DEAL BREAKER
Everyone wants to feel special and unique. No one wants to feel so special and unique that they are a mythical creature with a horn jutting out of his or her forehead that needs to be observed overnight. I once went out with a guy who acquired two strikes before dinner (STRIKE 1: didn't buy my pre-dinner beer and STRIKE 2: wore a faded, old sweater), and throughout the meal he proceeded to tell me just what a unicorn I was. I am sure he thought he was paying me compliment after compliment, but by the end of the night, I felt like I was some sort of a weirdo that was being studied, or that he had never actually talked to a real live girl before. [It's hard to really explain the unicorn comments. In my case, he said things like: "Wow, I can't believe you like barbeque pulled pork! I've never gone out with a girl who didn't order a salad, a girl that wasn't constantly counting calories. Wow! You even ordered a beer. I've never seen a girl order a beer before. WOAH! It's not even a light beer! Can we hang out again so I can learn more about your unique species?...]

Has a goatee-- DEAL BREAKER
Okay, so this one is all me. I just don't like goatees. You could be the nicest, most handsome, most amazing person in the world and I wouldn't date you unless you shaved off your goatee. Almost every other form of facial hair is fine by me. I love a nice 5 o'clock shadow (who doesn't?), I'd probably even go for someone with a beard. A moustache would be pushing it, but would still be better than a goatee. I don't get their appeal, I don't get why so many guys have them. If anyone wants to explain the goatee to me, I will hear it, but I probably won't change my mind.

There are countless of other things out there lurking in the shadows of your dates waiting to break deals. My theory is, if it is a deal breaker for you just end it. Don't give second chances. To those of you who are out there saying, "No, maybe it was just an off day! Maybe my guy will stop being a loser when we go out again. I really liked him when I met him in the bar that first time, my judgement wasn't at all clouded by alcohol or loneliness." To those nay-sayers, I will leave you with this. From my second-hand experience through B, the losers never get better. If they start out a potential relationship by telling you the dress you are wearing makes you look less chubby while simultaneously asking you to pick up the tab for dinner, it's only going to get worse. First dates are for good impressions, not d-bag behavior.

Honorary November 8th post

2009-11-09T00:32:00.002-05:00

Today I had my second to last class of Sketch Writing Level II. We have had a few weeks off, which is not a good thing for me. When given too much time, I tend to do nothing with it. I wrote a sketch, and some ideas for a classmate's sketch from the last class. During most of the editing critique, we were all telling each other "It's good." There weren't a lot of critiques to make. Our instructor Dave commented on that as well. He said he felt bad just telling us "I like it" since that isn't really necessarily constructive criticism.

My Level I teacher stressed the importance of finding writing partners, because it can just be great to bounce ideas off of someone else. I feel like I do this in real life. Most of my friends are hilarious, and when we talk and joke, there is an energy there that just makes everything funnier. Today felt like that. We started Level II as two halves of Level I classes coming together, like two junior high schools learning to coincide as one in high school. We still give feedback, but we've all become much better at the craft, so the comments are "Here's how to make this funny part even funnier!" and not "Here are the jokes you should cut!"

We did a brainstorming activity today, as we always do. Today, we were supposed to just shout out ideas on what's funny about: Negotiation, babies, and religious ceremonies. At first there was silence. Then an idea or two. Then a joke. Then a ridiculous story. By the end when the list was read back to us, we were all laughing hysterically. Earlier in the class, there was even a real life spit take. My classmate Megan and I weren't even angry that we had coffee spit on us. As I told the spit-taker "You just became a real life 'Saved by the Bell' character!" Nothing wrong with that.

As writers, we all have more work to do. Our sketches are not perfect, but one of the things we have been saying more and more is that new ideas will come from acting it out and rehearsing the sketches. We are talking about staging the sketches, which is what we will actually be doing after the next course. My classmate Ciaran said "We HAVE to be in the sketches when they do it!" I am frightened to actually be in the sketches, or to have something I've written performed; I am more excited than I am frightened. I have one more week of Level II left and then I will be signing up for Level III. I am considering taking some improv classes too, to make me less of a stiff for my big debut.

Writer's Block Support

2009-11-07T22:02:00.003-05:00

I am avoiding writing by writing. I have two sketches to write for class, which is tomorrow at 1:30 p.m. I am not really much further behind than normal, because I am a professional procrastinator. My usual formula involves staying up late the night before, occasionally even taking time to go out for a drink or two, and finishing the sketches in the morning.

Last term, my class was at 10 a.m. on Saturday mornings and this was how I operated. This term, the class is later in the weekend AND the day. So that means...I push back doing the work even more. It actually is still beneficial that the class is later in the day. The extra day, however, doesn't help. I don't know how that works mathematically.

Right now, I have writer's block. Or, do I? Most of the week, I think of ideas, and throw most of them out before they even reach paper. 9 times out of 10, I settle on an idea the night before and begin writing. I'm not sure if I actually get writer's block, or if I just need the pressure. I always waited until the last minute for assignments in school and I did pretty well.

I should be a better role model, considering the news I got on Friday at work. I was actually kind of waiting to hear that I got fired. A few unrelated clues led me to believe I was being "restructured" as I was in October, more thoroughly. Instead, I found out that I am being restructured, but it involves adding something to my job responsibilities in which I'm actually interested.

As of Monday, I will be helping students who need writing support. The details don't exist yet; we will have to figure out the logistics starting Monday. I won't be able to give the students any tips on getting work done on time. I probably will, I'll just be giving them advice I don't follow. I am happy that the students are going to have more support for writing. I am thrilled to be doing this, as far as it will help my career and filling out my resume.

After getting a little rusty, I will be refreshing all of my writing skills while helping these students. Hopefully, it will also help me write something of value here and give me the ability to bust out a sketch without trying.

Rubber band man

2009-11-06T18:36:00.003-05:00

I think I have finally kicked the nail biting habit, or at least I hope I have. Since I was a small child, probably 3 years old, I have bitten my nails. When I was much younger, I always bit them way to low, till they were freakishly short and I bled. Between that and constant hangnails, I always had bandages on my fingers in school.

As I have gotten older, I have controlled this terrible habit a bit. In most cases, when I have bitten my nails in the past few years, I at least do it neatly and cleanly, and with no bleeding. The habit has matured as I hopefully have. It's still a bad habit, and I need to stop doing it. In the past year, I usually do all right until I get stressed and bite them all off. In most cases, this has been driving around Allston and Brighton for a long time, trying to find a parking spot.

I finally found a method of controlling the urge to bite one's nails that involves wearing rubber bands on the wrist. This suits me, since at work I end up putting rubber bands around my wrists from file folders and mail. Contrary to what people have assumed when I begin to explain the abundance of bands I move from hand to hand, I do not snap myself to inflict pain as a punishment for the thought. At that rate, I might as well sniff ammonia too. When I want to bite my nails, I switch the rubber bands from one wrist to the other. The moment passes, and I haven't bitten my nails, and I am conscious of how often I want to do it, and how stupid it is. It also gives my hands something to do, which is very important.

Of course, I have invented fake reasons for why I'm wearing them. I moved locations at work recently and when a former office mate asked what they were for I told her "I wear one for each of you that I miss." There were 6 people in my old office. I was wearing 2 bands. She sulked back to her cubicle.

I haven't bitten my nails in 12 days now. I think it takes 21 days to start or break a habit. I think my new habit is collecting rubber bands, because I'm up to five. Perhaps my next project will be a rubber band ball to keep from biting my nails and wearing too many bands. Either way, after I am sure I have moved on, I'm gettin' m'nails did.

Hot Doctors: An Unfortunate Unreality

2009-11-06T11:26:00.007-05:00

Since it has always been difficult for me to draw a line between reality and fantasy, I always had this completely incorrect notion that being a doctor came hand-in-hand with being handsome. I don't think I am the only one. A smart, handsome doctor is to a late twenty-something as a Disney prince is to a seven year old.

Imagine my surprise when a while back I asked a friend in the medical profession if she had any cute doctor friends and she said no. Apparently, the hot doctor is mostly a myth, and when he does come around, he has a huge ego, and therefore by the law of personality trumps face, he gets uglier every second you get to know him. My hopes of meeting/dating/marrying a hot doctor were dashed.

I wondered what caused me to believe doctors were handsome and nice and amazing and wonderful in the first place? I realized it could all be explained by my Gradual Change Equals Normal theorem.

Gradual Change Equals Normal (GCEN) is something I came up with back when I first got glasses. Like many sixth graders, I had no idea I needed them and was content to squint at the chalkboard (remember those?) confusing 5s for 6s for the rest of my life. It wasn't until I put my brand new spectacles on for the first time when I realized what I had been missing out on. I could see so many details! Leaves on trees. The menu at McDonald's. The word "STOP" on the stop sign. Because my vision had been gradually deteriorating for the previous 11 years, I had no idea it wasn't normal to struggle to recognize your friends' faces in the hallways.

In order to apply the GCEN theorem to my inaccurate belief that all doctors are hot, I have to blame TV. Right after I graduated from Disney channel movies,I hopped onto the couch in front of shows like E.R. I think we can all agree that the first few seasons of E.R. were the best. Also, if you think back, the ratio of good-looking to not-so-good-looking was almost normal. Sure you had the dreamy pediatrician and the cute intern, but then there was the bald guy with glasses and the crippled Attending.

As the show continued and the cast started changing, the doctors and nurses got better and better looking, and younger and younger. The change was so gradual, I bet most viewers didn't notice (myself included) which led to us believing that it was still just as realistic as it started out, and that all doctors and nurses are above average in their physical appearances.

Right around the time E.R. started tanking, everyone turned to Grey's Anatomy to get their medical TV drama fix. Grey's didn't even try to include ugly people in their cast (although now there is a token geek resident who appears every once in a while to have a panic attack about something or another but no one really cares). In fact, they use cute nicknames (McDreamy and McSteamy) to pretend as though it was a realistic and funny coincidence that their top notch neuro- and plastic surgeons were so good looking. By this point, the viewers didn't care or even think twice about it. We had already been brainwashed by the Gradual Change in E.R.; we thought that if Emergency Room doctors could look like that show, this MUST be what surgeons and future surgeons looked like.

As much as I am always thrilled to live in a fantasy world, I was happy when Mercy came along. Watching Mercy is like putting on your glasses for the first time- you realize nothing you saw before was even remotely accurate. But you don't mind, because in some ways, it's better.

This is how I segue into my review of the new TV show on NBC- Mercy. If Grey's is the borderline blindness of 6th grade, Mercy is my first time putting on glasses. At first I was annoyed that there was a new show about people in the medical profession. I thought it was a cop-out that the focus was on nurses to make it seem like it would be a different show than the other hundreds that are out there. Come on. Can we be any less creative?

But now that I have started watching it, I've jumped on the Mercy bandwagon. It's not all hot nurses and doctors; it's a show of average-in-a-good-way people. They didn't have to add a token nerd in, because everyone on the show has a little bit of a token nerd in them. It reminds me of how E.R. used to be, before it got tainted by the Young and the Beautiful. My only hope for this show is that it doesn't go down the path of Grey's, what with its ghosts and 'dark twisty moments' and missing wives.

You might have thought this post was some sort of a rant about how TV has ruined my life by making me think I'd marry a neurosurgeon that everyone called McDreamy, but it's actually to get you to watch Mercy. It's good, I promise. And if you have watched it and you don't like it, well then we are not friends. So go away.

That guys face

2009-11-05T20:30:00.002-05:00

"I have to put this guy's face somewhere."- on recognizing someone

2009-11-04T21:35:00.006-05:00

Since I have no money right now, because I am at that point that happens every few months where all of my bills are due before I get my paycheck, and I may finally find out how my overdraft protection works, but I still need to eat, I did some inventing in the kitchen tonight.

I knew that I had the following: turkey cutlets, various soups, frozen vegetables, taco seasoning. More specifically, I reasoned out that I have cheddar cheese soup (which I bought on sale for a dollar. Holler), frozen peppers (also a dollar. Holler back). What would I make of this? Dinner, of course. It did require buying a bag of chips, though, because I could only think of fashioning this into some sort of dip. I took a trip to CVS and hoped that Halloween candy would be on sale. It was, but more the Mike and Ike's and not so much the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups I wanted. Peanut butter was on sale for 3 for $5 which was a steal! I am officially old or poor, because I get excited about sales and love telling everyone about them. At that price, I can eat one jar tonight which is what I always have to fight the urge to do.

While cooking I took the time to take a picture only because it made me think "We are eating peppers and chips!"

This led to my roommates and I saying "We are eating peppers and chips!" over and over for the next five minutes.

Along the way I decided that I was going to throw in some refried beans, for why nots. Actually what I think I said was "Hey, refried beans, you're gonna join the party."

Recipe:
1 turkey cutlet, cut into small pieces
1 can of Cheddar Cheese soup
1 can refried beans
1 cup (I am lying I don't measure things that aren't premeasured) of frozen pepper strips

I think that was it.

Directions:
Thaw the peppers in the microwave. Cook the turkey cutlet in a bit of olive oil in a saucepan on medium high heat. Once the turkey is cooked on both sides, add the vegetables to cook them a bit. Next, add the cheddar cheese. Add the refried beans and mix them all together. Done and done.

Serve:
I threw the mess that looked like dog food in a bowl, topped it with some plain yogurt (I stole it from my roommate--if you don't have one of these, you will have to buy more food). I drizzled on some enchilada sauce and edged the bowl with baked scoops.

I will get at least one more meal out of this. I am kind of a pig, you could get two. If you are one of those people who has no roommates, you can eat it all right out of the saucepan in one night. No one has to know.

Secrets, secrets, are no fun. Secrets, secrets, hurt someone

2009-11-04T20:23:00.010-05:00

Lately, I've taken to checking out job listings on craigslist. The most fun ones to read are the ads for reality TV casting calls. One was for a spot on a hunter/gatherer tribe on an island where you can participate in polyamorous relationships and experience life as humans did back in the day when everything was wild and free. I'd post details here, but I'd like to keep this blog family friendly.

Then I found this one:

“Secrets," the CW's new documentary series, will follow the lives of professional woman ages 22-27 who cannot keep their rage under control.

For more information or to APPLY, check out www.cwsecrets.com.

I checked out the website and it is legit. Unfortunately, I don't actually qualify because I doubt my days spent wearing yesterday's pajamas scouring the internet for new and interesting craigslist posts qualifies as living a secret/double life. You all know that is what I am doing- it's no secret. I did have to think twice about the rage, though. I can call upon rage like it's my superpower. Things I have forgotten about for years, months, weeks, can quickly and easily come to the surface at a moment's notice.

One thing you shouldn't mention to me if you don't want to witness me fly off the handle is Comcast. Don't ask me the best way to return a cable box. I won't tell you how I was told 7 pieces of misinformation and sent through 5 different website links and talked to 8 different people and one online robot, only to find out that to return a piece of equipment would involve driving to Roxbury between the hours of noon and never on a weekday. Since you didn't ask, I wouldn't have to explain how ridiculous it is that if you cancel your Comcast service for no good reason, you can have someone stop by to pick it up (for free), ship it back to your payment center (for free), or drop it off at a local payment center (for free). However, if you have moved out of state last minute to an area where Comcast does not serve, your only option is to return it to your old location's payment center which is two hours away and keeps inconvenient hours. Fortunately, if you avoid mentioning Comcast to me, you will also avoid hearing about how much they suck, how much I hate them, and how even if I move back to an area that ONLY has Comcast as a cable option, I will personally install Dish Network on my apartment's rooftop or sign up for netflix or buy a new computer that would allow me to watch Hulu, instead of dealing with them again. F-ing Comcast.

Now that that hasn't been said, I am wondering if I should apply for that TV show.... if that happens, please be sure to watch me on the CW, Tuesdays, 10/9 Central, 2011.

30 Gremlins in 30 days

2009-11-04T01:49:00.003-05:00

I find myself pondering the situation where I started a post before midnight and posted it after midnight, as was the case with my last entry. It's similar to the case of the Mogwai and Gremlin. One wonders, as a character did in the sequel, if they start eating before midnight, but get a piece of food stuck in their teeth, will the friendly, furry, little dinkers turn into their scaly, mischievous, though often entertaining alter egos?

Do I have to write a post on every day? Or will 30 posts in 30 days fulfill the requirement? Here is my answer, see if you can follow the logic. You could turn one mogwai into a gremlin every day for 30 days. Or, you could turn 30 mogwais into 3o gremlins overnight. Either way, you have 30 gremlins to deal with. I know that one gremlin at a time is much easier to deal with than dozens upon dozens. Luckily, in this situation, it just means you'll have to read more at once and you probably won't end up going through your window when they rewire your chairlift.

Croque Monsieur or Croque Madame?.. I can't decide

2009-11-03T14:21:00.004-05:00

Lately I have been having trouble with decisions. I am going to blame unemployment. When I had a job, I made decisions regularly and with abandon. I didn't think twice because I knew I was right because I am as awesome as Barney Stinson.

Since I don't have anything to do (except apply for millions of jobs, write a novel, post in this every day, and make things for my etsy website), I spent the better part of this afternoon trying to decide whether to make a croque madame or a croque monsieur for lunch. (For those of you who aren't familiar with french grilled sandwiches, a croque monsieur is grilled ham & cheese, and a croque madame is the same, plus a fried egg on top). To egg, or not to egg, that was the real question. In the end, I left it up to the fates. I started off by assembling the croque monsieur. I figured, if I really wanted the egg, when the time came and the cheese was done melting into oozy goodness, I could easily fry it up for the topping with minimal effort. It was at this stage that I realized that the trouble I have been having is less about the decision and more about making the commitment to one or the other.

One of my favorite ways to avoid commitments is to let the time run out. I am in a constant state of race against the clock. In the case of today's lunch, I started making the croque monsieur. Moments later (after having forgotten about the fact I was even making lunch), it was burning. I simply ran out of time to make the egg portion to turn it into a Madame. Decision made with no commitments: croque monsieur it is.

I apply this very same technique to other aspects of my life. I need to buy a car if I stay in CT. However, if I apply to enough jobs before I buy a car, then maybe I will get a job where I don't need a car before the car is bought. OR, if I get a job where I need a car, I can register it in the state the job is in, instead of first registering it in CT and then registering it elsewhere. But, if the car I want to buy ends up needing to be bought before a job happens, I will just have to buy the car and be done with it. Decision made, true commitment avoided.

As I sit here, a veritable Doogie Howser writing in my computer journal we will call this blog, reflecting on my past and thinking about my future, I realize I've spent the first 27 years of my life leaving things up to the something out there that is greater than me (I can't even commit to a higher power) and hoping that one day all of the stars will align and I will have a job that I like, a home, a boyfriend/husband, maybe a child but definitely a dog, and most importantly, a place where I feel I belong in the world.

As much as I want to stop this feeling that nothing is in my control, in many ways it is easier. If I could call upon the Purple People Eater to solve my problems, I probably would. Instead, I'm just going to continue my non-existent 5 year plan and let things roll the way they roll.

[Yes, there were three Neil Patrick Harris references in this post. And I do realize there wasn't much point to this entry, but I am kind of out of time so I am just going to put it up here anyway.]

Location, location, location

2009-11-02T23:45:00.004-05:00

Due to the recent recession, I have been reluctantly restructured at work. Education was supposed to be solid, and for-profit was supposed to be secure for a while too, because we had a multi-billion dollar organization backing us up. Then, some people in another state made up a random number that 35 other people were supposed to hit, so...student services got cut and people who make nothing either got canned or asked to do twice as much for no more money. No, really, it's cute. Fortunately, I was one of the "lucky" ones who got to take with them part of the job that is a waste of my talent, and pick up the pieces of a job that had just been recently refilled because the last person just couldn't stand the job anymore. We lucky few.

Along with people telling me to smile all the time (I will do my job, but I will smile only when I'm leaving for the night), I also get a brand new fancy location as head cubicle monkey in the cubicle zoo. The three most noticable features of this new location are within 10 feet of me: the copier, the bathroom, and the mailboxes.

Now, the question is, which do I hate being near the most? There are pros and cons to each I suppose.

Copier: Pro- I can make copies without having to travel far. Con- I am the closest person when it's broken.

Bathroom: Pro- Again, proximity- no lengthy walk to the bathroom and I have a tiny bladder. Con- I am ten feet away from where a lot of disgusting people poop. If it were a public bathroom I would be 5 stalls down.

Mailboxes: Pro- You guessed it. How close! Considering I have to put the mail in the mailboxes, it's good I can do it while near my desk. Con- I don't get to get away from my desk even to do the mail.

Copier: Pro- this is kind of where we tap out at Pros. I don't really make copies very often-we have a copy center for bulk orders, which is all I do. The kids are not the smartest-we need lots of tutor request forms. Oh and they don't show up, so we need a lot of timesheets, with carbon copies to keep track of how much effort is wasted. Con- I'm near something I don't really need that much and yet I'm responsible for it.

Bathroom: Pro- I DO use the bathroom. It's not virtually useless like the copier. Con- a lot of people use that bathroom because the nearest one is used by students as well. And they're crawling with disease. Although they do write immature things on the walls that still amuse me. If that happened in our bathroom, everyone would know it was me. Con.

Mailboxes: Pro- It's um, well, there's...and you can't leave out... Con- the only mail I get, gets taken out of an envelope, and forwarded to the chairs. It could have been sorted before mailing. I don't get mail :( Saaaad.

Copier: No wait! I forgot a Pro! The copier is a fax machine as well! Con-I don't use that fax machine, I use the one in the back that people don't mess up.

Bathroom: Pro- I overhear people talking on the phone in "private." It's good for gossip and my favorite hobby...judging. Con- if I can hear phone conversations, think of the symphony I have to hear. Mostly butt-trumpet.

Mailboxes: Con- I have to deal with mail. I did that as an intern. When I was 21. Lame. They used to call me "intern" then. People don't know my name now either, and I've been there for 2 years. In 3 offices. And "What's your name again?" followed by "Great, anyways..." is not as cool as being called "intern." Con.

Copier: Con- even though I don't use it as a fax machine, I still have to remind people that they have to dial 9 to fax something. And then while they continue to have trouble, I hear them talking to themselves about how on the other machine that she uses, she doesn't have to dial 9. I didn't invent having to dial 9. I don't care what the other machine does. I don't care what this machine does. And I didn't call you senile, which you are and you're getting defensive. Oh, and talking to yourself. And by the way, you're welcome.

Bathroom: Con- Other people may not be as paranoid as me, but I don't like the fact that facilities probably thinks there's something wrong with me or that I make poo the size of an anaconda. For 2 years, I have always been near the bathrooms, and as the admin, I have to be the one to tell someone when something that looks like an arm is stuck in the toilet or when it looks like a pool when you take the cover off after the winter, and the cover leaked, and there's a dead squirrel in it. The pool, not the toilet. People don't know who I am. I am probably known as the guy who always breaks the toilets.

Mailboxes: Con- People congregate around the mailboxes. Boring people. And they talk to each other. I'm not in on the conversation, nor would I want to be. So...shut up and go away.

Copier: Con- People do not know how to use a copy machine. What happened to this? I don't know. What do I press to make it go back? I dunno? Clear? How do I do this? It's not working! You have to put it in the top right! It's jammed! Oh no! I didn't tell you to put it in the paper tray. And it's probably a stupid script you wrote. Pro- I know a LOT about copiers now, from when it has given me trouble. I can get a paper jam out of any part. I can figure out what the problem is 90 percent of the time. No one knows this about me. Who's the pro?

Bathroom: Pro- I get to give judgmental looks to people as they walk into the bathroom, for doing something that we all, by necessity, must do. On the way out, I get to look at them as if to say "That was too long to be number 1." Con- if I do use that bathroom, and someone is waiting for me at my desk, I essentially burst onto the scene and the awkwardness is reversed.

Mailboxes: Con- Do you know where my teacher's mailbox is? What's his or her name? I dunno. What does he or she teach? I dunno. Is it he or she? I dunno. Really?

Copier: Pro- Since I don't know anything about fixing the copier (wink!), the mailroom has to fix it. Their number is on the wall behind the copier. Con-who do you think has to make that call?

Bathroom: Pro- There is also the game I pretend to play with certain people, that I am tallying and keeping track of everyone's bathroom transactions.

Mailboxes: Con- There are very close mailboxes to my desk. As in my elbow could hit them. So people feel the need to strike up a conversation while they write on interoffice envelopes. Um, hi, I don't care. At least with the copier, when I ignore people, they might think I can't hear over the noise.

Copier: Pro- I have a dream of being overly helpful when the copier is giving people trouble. In this dream, I also pretend I'm in a wheelchair. As I try to back out of my cubicle, and say "Just a minute" and crash into the back wall, and then say "I'm coming!" and knock over my lamp, and reassure them "Be right there!" and run over a tack, they will feel stupid. I mean- isn't making someone stop what they're doing because you don't know how to use a machine that he does, even though you have been working since he was a small child, just as bad as making someone in a wheelchair rush to help, with something so stupid? The answer is...no, but I want to make people feel awkward and wheelchairs of good for that.

The clear winner at losing here is: Mailboxes. Sure, the toilet runs, and there's a frequent smell, and the other day, either a staff or faculty member didn't flush after leaving a nutty, gray-brown dook, and sure the copier is loud, and always breaking down, and the paper needs to be filled, and no one knows how to use it. But the mailboxes force me to talk to people. And help. And pretend to care.

The lesson is, that the people around me are worse than noise and poop.

That's what she said

2009-11-02T13:16:00.000-05:00

"It's a little prick on my tongue" and "then it gets bigger in my mouth." Padima, Top Chef Las Vegas

Werewolf Bar Mitzvah, Spooky Scary

2009-11-02T12:48:00.001-05:00

Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves.

Every year, the day or two after Halloween, I come up with an excellent Halloween idea and then forget about it by the time it comes around again. This past October 31st, I was proud of myself for coming up with my dinosaur costume early (which was adorable if I must say so myself). But, I woke up this morning with an idea for the perfect Halloween party. A werewolf bar mitzvah. I'm not going to expand upon the details, but think about it. Next year, hopefully I will have a home that is not located in suburban CT and will host this lovely party. You are all invited. Yes, you. All 4 of our followers who read this blog.

That said, I love Halloween. I love dressing up in ridiculous costumes and watching multiple Lady Gagas have dance offs around stripper poles. I love waking up a hot mess the day after wearing a dinosaur hoodie on a friend's couch, not knowing how I am going to get home to CT. Ah, memories.

But, with Halloween's end comes the start of the inevitable NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). For the past 2 years, I have signed up and failed miserably. I sort of expect to fail. But, not this year. This year, I don't have a job that sucks out my soul and creativity. I have a total of 3 friends located within 10 miles of me which means minimal distractions. I am living with my parents and having regular flashbacks to the year 1999. My novel may end up being a coming of age story of a 27 year old aspiring writer trapped in suburban CT, but it will exist and it will hit the 50,000 word mark by Nov 30. That said, I will also participate in this blog post writing challenge.... I mean, why not add more writing onto my to-do list this month? I have a world of time on my hands.

Don't worry, I'll remember all of you when I am famous.

Hoo. Who?

2009-11-02T00:49:00.000-05:00

So, for once, I am slightly ahead of the curve on knowing about a band, in that, I've known about them for a month and their single is just now starting to get heavy rotation. You may have heard of them a year ago, but I am known for thinking a song is new when it was released 3 months ago. Not big on the radio, kids. And the ipod...she has mostly hits from the '60s- 2004. So, just let me be happy I don't feel like someone's parents trying to keep up with what the kids are listening to.

In any case, here is the video for "Fireflies" by Owl City. I have downloaded the whole Album "Ocean Eyes" and it's really good. They sound a bit like The Postal Service, but still a cool sound.

Fireflies!

NaBloPoMo

2009-11-01T22:35:00.000-05:00

National Blog Posting Month

Most of us here on justforscuz have in the past considered participating in National Novel Writer's Month (NaNoWriMo). In fact, we've started it and failed. In this event, the objective is to complete a novel in the month of November. I even bought a book on writing a novel in a month and gave it to Anita Rackow. Yet, none of us have produced a novel.

When discussing the creation of this blog, we agreed that blogs are easier to write than anything lengthier. I had downgraded from the lofty goal of being a novelist, passed through a phase of thinking I could complete short stories, to "Hey I can just write about nothing." And I want to be a writer?

I am taking sketch comedy writing classes at ImprovBoston and I have learned something valuable about writing. The more I do it, the easier it is. Not because I necessarily get any better, but because it decreases the fear of failure. There is a writing rule of 9 to 1. For every 9 terrible things we write, only one will be any good.

So I'm going to attempt to make 30 entries over the next 30 days. And maybe 3 of them will be worth a damn. Perhaps my cohorts will join me, or bail me out on days that I forget. Cohorts? What say you?

Oh and by the way, this entry counts.

PS I am really glad that it was daylight savings last night, because otherwise, it would almost be midnight and I'd be sweating on the keyboard trying to make sure it gets posted by midnight.

Raise your hand if you like moving. Anyone? Anyone? No. No one.

2009-08-31T00:51:00.001-04:00

I think we can all agree that no one likes moving day. No matter what you do, it is impossible for it to be a happy, positive experience. Especially in Boston. In Boston, September 1 is the worst day in the world in the history of the world especially if you own more than just a toothbrush and a carpet bag worth of clothes. Here are my stories:

Last year, I decided to beat the whole moving crazy nonsense by hiring movers. I booked them months in advance, got a good deal, and felt quite proud of myself for not procrastinating for once. Kudos to me, a hundred pats on the back, and kudos again. The morning of Sept 1, 2008 the bubble I lived in where moving is easy and fun popped.

First, my movers didn't show. I called, they said, "Whooops!" and sent 3 guys over. I am pissed, but calm. Although my seemingly "easy" move was starting out 2 hours delayed, I would not let my feathers ruffle over such a minor detail. Instead, I put my energy into re-cleaning the kitchen floor with a toothbrush (we were told it was not quite clean enough and I was making a point).

Finally, the movers show up and so I show them into the house. In my mind, I imagined movers to be silent and efficient busy bees. My movers were no such thing. First, the complaint was issued that they weren't told there'd be stairs. My response: I was told you'd be here at 8 (as I looked at my wrist indicating it was now 10:30am, um humm). Then, they started loading everything into the truck. It's going well until they decide to head out but had missed about half a dozen boxes of my clothes and shoes-- I shout after them and they come back in mumbling obscenities under their breaths. Awesome. They zip off to Beacon Hill while I get reamed out by my landlady and then cry.

Eventually I make it to the Hill to find they have already started unloading. Lovely. We are back on track... Or are we? All of a sudden a fight breaks out between my head mover and the Boston Transport police. Great. Apparently the street occupency permit that I had to get by visiting 3 different offices on 3 different floors with 3 different checks made out to 3 different departments wasn't valid on my street. Thanks, City of Boston, for the heads-up that my street doesn't allow permits of that nature. I do not flip a lid and instead gently encourage the movers to "Please move your truck around the corner like the lady says" and then I look at the Boston Transport official and say, "I know this isn't your fault, but it is kind of ridiculous." She agreed and wandered off to find other violators.

Meanwhile, my movers are bringing my things inside my new apartment. Did I mention it was a 4th floor walk up? Did I also mention I have hundreds of books as well as a heavy couch. F-bombs are being thrown about with abandon and by the time I make it up to my apartment I discover that my movers have quit. Over the phone. To their supervisor, who we can refer to as Bob. Shouting ensues and if you could have slammed a cell phone, my head mover would have done so. He looks at me and says, "Nothing personal, but this isn't what we signed on for."

The other two movers make it up the stairs, huffing and puffing, sweating and swearing. They say "You've got a lot of stuff" and "Normally we don't move boxes like this." I said "Boxes like what? Boxes filled with stuff? Huh?" and they explain:

"Can you lift this?" they ask me, pointing to one of my 50/50 boxes (half books, half pillows). I lift it off the ground but admitted it was quite heavy.
"If you can't lift it, we don't normally move it," they explained.
Me, perplexed. "So, you are saying if I " (pointing to myself-- an under 5 foot female) "can't lift this, you won't move it? Hmm"
"Okay, chica," they say. "We get your point. Do you have a boyfriend?"
Me: "If I had a boyfriend he'd be here moving so I wouldn't have to deal with all of you. So have you quit or are you working for me today?"

They decided they liked my sass (who doesn't) and agreed to continuing moving my things. After about an hour of watching my stuff being tossed around like it was salad they were done. I counted the broken plates in my head as I calculated their tip.

This year, things were a little different. Originally I didn't plan to move, but circumstances changed and since I couldn't commit to a new location I decide to put my things in storage and spend some quality time in suburbia with the familia. I call around and find a company called Door-to-Door. They are going to drop off a pod-like storage unit, I will have 3 days to fill it up, they will pick it up and put it somewhere. When I want it, they will deliver it to my new address. Sounds like a dream come true and as close as I can get to the creme-de-la-creme of moving fantasies: when someone else packs your stuff up, delivers it, and unpacks it, all while you vacation in the Virgin Islands. (One day, my friends, one day).

Snag 1: the day they are supposed to deliver the storage unit I double check the space (Door-to-Door arranged the street occupancy permits so it all works out fine) and it is clear. Fab-u-lous (said like the Orbit gum lady). 5 minutes before they actually arrive, however, someone pulls into the spot and then disappears. True story. I walk around my neighborhood asking everyone and anyone if they are the owner(s) of the car in my spot. Even a friendly neighborhood mailman helps me out for a while. A woman and her daughter eventually emerge from another apartment building. After a couple of blank stares and one dresser loaded into her vehicle she moves the car across the street.

Snag 2: I hire 2 movers (labor only) to help me with the big stuff. 15 minutes late and I am like WTF. I call my friend to say "What do I do?" and then one shows up. He was called by the guy I arranged the labor with and then was told that guy was sending another guy over. That is one too many anonymous guys in the equation. This kid-- Jeremy- thinks he can move some of the stuff on his own. I say, "That's great, because I don't want to help and I will pay you double." He ponders calling a friend, but apparently has none. (Okay that's harsh, he does indeed have friends but this is a Saturday at 6 pm and they are otherwise preoccupied). As we go outside to open and scope out the storage unit, Dimitri shows up. We are saved.

Snag 3: The two guys do a great job getting all of the big stuff in there, but now I am left with an apartment full of trash/little stuff and a feeling of overwhelming panic. I call my friend Sara and go over there, eat Chinese food, and forget about it for the rest of the night. The next day, my parents show up. I think I have things under control and we start to load up their car with my essential stuff that I cannot live without aka seventeen hundred million bags of clothes, spare books (I do need some books on hand) and other things that are so amazing I can't even remember them. The truth quickly becomes realized: I have too much stuff.

Snag 4: Did I mention I live(d) in a 4th floor walk up? Seven or so hours later, I have walked up and down those stairs so many times I am practically crawling the final flight. I took quite a few 10 minute "lay on the floor and try to recuperate" breaks when no one was looking. My legs are so sore today I feel like Ozzy Osbourne walks.

---

Even though right now, I have half of my life in a storage unit (a ticking time bomb in the world of moving) and the other half of my life in garbage bags in my parents' spare room (another ticking time bomb waiting to explode into my childhood bedroom any second now), I breathe a sigh of relief that the September 1 moving experience is over for this year. Also, I have learned a few things from my Beacon Hill moves: (1) Don't live on the fourth floor (2) Don't live on the fourth floor (3) Don't live on the fourth floor. End Scene.

The things I carried

2009-08-30T13:49:00.000-04:00

As I prepare to move in the next 24-48 hours, I wonder how I'm really going to pull it off. I say 24-48 hours because while my official move in date is September 1st, I may be able to move certain items into my building, but not my apartment, on the 31st, thanks to friends who will be moving into the same building.

The move is from Brighton to Allston, and only .4 miles so it should be fairly easy. Then again, the move is from BRIGHTON to ALLSTON on September 1st. I avoided this nightmare last year because I moved in around September 7th or so. An extra bonus challenge will be moving my full sized bed without the aid of a truck or movers.

Option 1 is walking it down the street, hopefully with help.

Option 2 is strapping that mother to my Altima and hoping for the best.

Option 3:

Except Allston St. instead of a surf-stairway and random homeless people and college kids instead of guards in purple suits. The billowy, hooded nightgown is a must though.

Other than that, everything should pretty much fit in my car in 2 trips. That was the number of trips I had to take last September when moving. Still I wonder, where did I get all this crap? And even still, I left a lot of belongings, personal and otherwise, at my parents' house. I didn't have room for them to come to my apartment and I may still not have room.

There are things that I wish I had here and others I brought with me that I don't even need, but I can't throw them away. I don't look at my yearbooks, but I thought I would like to have them around. Plus, I can't keep everything at my parents' forever. I think as I move to my second apartment, I must make a trip back and enact judgment day upon my belongings. Everything will either be moving on with me, or going to the firey pits of the garbage world.

No that's too harsh and Christian. Perhaps there will be some reincarnation as my trash becomes another man's treasure through goodwill.

I realized today this would all be solved if I could just keep everything with me, but not actually have to store it anywhere. This would be possible if my life were a video game. I walked by a box of matches that had been left on the street, and of course as a 27 year old man seeing trash, I thought I should pick it up. I have also recently been picking up loose change on the street that normally I would pass by. I want to see how much I can earn in a year just by picking up loose change. But, I digress.

In video games, at least the role playing kind, you get to walk around and look for items that you will need later. Kill someone- take his gun. Find a grenade- keep it for later when you need to blast through a brick wall. Magic potion-what? Who cares- you know you'll need it at some point. And this is what I think when I see something like a box of matches, hanging out all by itelf, practically with a pulsating glow around it. "I'll need these later." Why else would they be there?

Why don't I pick them up? Because it's street trash. No, that's not why- that wouldn't stop me. The reason is, I don't have room for this crap. In the video game world, you pick things up and you just "have" them. Somehow you can carry a rifle, a key card, 10 smoke bombs, a first aid pack, and a grappling hook on your person. And you can just bust them out at any point, at the appropriate time.

If I could just "have" all my belongings, but not have to keep them, I would be all set. Because although you don't need them on a regular basis- I mean do I really NEED my Spice World sticker book, with an unfinished collection of stickers, because I stopped being able to find the Chupa Chups Spice Girls lollipops? Of course not, but how else would I be able to prove how painfully uncool I am but how much uncooler I used to be. I think people believe me but having that evidence really drives the point home. Unfortunately, I have to keep that in a trunk, next to the comic books I used to draw for 4 years, and my 3 volumes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Watcher's Guide.

All of my music now fits on my ipod-something that is smaller than my wallet. I kind of miss having the actual CDs, but it's good to free up the space. Most of the information found in the books I have can be found online anytime. Maybe those I can learn to live without.

I don't have any other place to put old drawings, movie ticket stubs, letters and cards from family and friends. But I'm not getting rid of them. And so these are the things I carry with me, even though I probably won't use them.

So scientists and eggheads, could you get on that teleportion shit anytime soon? The Power Rangers did it all the time, and that show has been around for years!

PS Looking forward to this in 2 days:

PIVOT!!

"i'm having some trouble with zombies..."

2009-08-26T22:53:00.000-04:00

so said i last night to my roommate. i never thought it would come to this, but i am, indeed, having some trouble with zombies these days.

it all started when i spied it. the the book my dreams are made of. that's right- Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

i had to have it. i heart Pride and Prejudice! i heart zombies! the cover will freak people out in public! it all started out innocently enough. the bennet sisters are searching for husbands. their mother is meddling. mark darcy is proud. and then...zombies come in and eat people. they EAT people. somehow, i did not see this coming.

i guess i never gave much thought to zombies. i like to say things like, "i heart zombies" without really considering what makes them tick. it turns out, i don't really heart zombies at all. the truth is, they actually make me gag a little bit when i read about them cracking people's skulls with their teeth at the ball.

i'm not sure i can finish the book. maybe i'm too proud. maybe i'm too prejudiced. maybe i'm too...zombie?

Marathon morons

2009-04-23T00:27:00.000-04:00

This past Monday, I watched most of the Boston Marathon from Washington Square in Brookline. I say most, because I didn't go to see the elite runners go by (I don't know anyone from Kenya) and occasionally I stepped away to grab a beer, which we were allowed to drink outside.

I haven't watched the Marathon live in a few years, since my older brother ran it. This time around, my little brother was running, and a friend of mine. I was tracking both of them via text alerts, and relaying the information to family and friends. I had everyone looking out for my brother, so we could cheer him on as he neared the finish line. I was excited and proud of all of these people in something for which the word "race" doesn't do justice. On top of that, I am running the Providence Marathon in less than two weeks. I was excited, and nervous watching.

And annoyed. There was an epidemic of people trying to cross the road during the event. The Boston Marathon is not exactly a surprise to anyone who lives in Boston, and it shouldn't even be a foreign idea to those outside the city, considering it is one of the "Big 5" marathons. I myself did have to cross the road at a point during the race, just once, to get to friends and beer. I am pretty quick and agile (I had better be if I'm supposed to run a marathon in 10 days). Even so, I waited until there was a lull in the race and the police officers on duty at the crosswalks.

The three runners up for top offender were: the Asian tourists with a heavy camera who scurried slowly across, holding hands; the two people who crashed into each other in the middle of the road; finally, the woman running across the street with a child in her arms.

The biggest idiot of the day, however, was the woman who tried to cross the street in the middle of a pack of runners, while pushing...a baby stroller. The police officer on that corner chewed her out and rightfully so.

What the ef is wrong with people?

There is a marathon going on. Thousands of people are running 26 miles. In a row! They are doing something that most people couldn't dream of doing. It takes physical fitness, stamina, mental strength, training, dedication, and perseverance that few people have. Show some respect and wait! Where are you and your baby going that is so damn important you can't wait a few minutes to let these people complete one of the most significant things they may ever do, without some idiot pushing a stroller through to throw off their time.

Beyond respect, show some common sense. People running the marathon- not slow. 50 Speedy Gonzales's are coming your way when you cross that street. If you don't get out of their way, the impact will be significant. What if while walking across the street, you caused injury to a runner? Also, worst parent ever! "Oh, I think I'll just take my baby across the street and-" oh your baby just got run over! Your baby's probably dead. These people have been running for 23 miles at this point. It has taken them over 2 and a half hours. Many of them have not stopped, and they're not going to do that easily.

As the stroller pusher, you have shown that you are a complete moron, waste of space, and probably shouldn't have kids. Under your supervision, given the care and decision making skills you've shown, they won't last long in this world anyways, especially considering what a daredevil you decide they will be on their behalf, playing chicken with a wall of elite runners.

I was glad to see that people booed the idiots for crossing the road whenever they felt like it. I am a fan of booing when people deserve it. The thing that sucks is that people running the marathon had to hear something so negative when all they should be hearing are cheers and well wishes and admiration.

Maybe instead of booing there should have been angry, but quiet, mob justice.

"Thank you, logic boy. Did I mention this is a rant? Sense really has no place in it."-BtVS

Adventureland

2009-04-05T23:45:00.001-04:00

“It was the worst job they ever imagined... and the best time of their lives.”

The poster for Adventureland itself is misleading; in bold letters, it boasts that the movie is from the director of Superbad. I actually didn’t care for Superbad, but it would lead one to believe this is going to be a gross out, fast paced, joke every 10 seconds comedy, which it isn’t. Bill Hader, Kristen Wigg, and Ryan Reynolds all promise potential for big laughs. Hader is funny, especially in a scene where he chases a man with a baseball bat, and then goes back to his task as if nothing happened. His funny moments are too few and far between. Wigg, who is the best thing to happen to "Saturday Night Live" in years, is completely underutilized and barely speaks in her few minutes on screen. Hader and Wigg's characters belong in a better, screwball comedy. Reynolds plays a completely phony douche bag, with none of his Van Wilder Charm. We don’t laugh with him or at him.

The tagline featured on the movie poster doesn’t really suit the film. Working in this amusement park is not “the worst job.” I definitely felt worse for Christina Applegate at her summer job cleaning out the grease traps and mopping the floor in the clown burger joint in Dont' Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead. And as far as the best time of their lives…the rest of their lives must be pretty weak.

The movie is set in the late ‘80s, which has no effect on the story except for some of the fashion (which is pointless since teenagers now wear ‘80s inspired crap) and featuring some obvious and a few forgotten ‘80s songs. James Brennan (Jesse Eisenberg) had plans to travel to Europe and go to graduate school at Columbia. His father’s demotion forces him to forget those plans and instead get a job to save money to move to New York. Having no real work experience, the only thing he can find is working the games at the amusement park with the locals. Once there, he quickly falls for Em (Kristen Stewart), who is sleeping with the married maintenance man (Reynolds). Throw in the hot girl, the childhood friend who regularly punches James in the balls, the nerdy, atheist, Jewish sidekick, and the cast is complete. The story is predictable right up to the end: realization, confrontation, rumors, breakdowns, and happy ending.

There are about 20 minutes of a decent film here, with many long, uninspired scenes filling in the gaps. Jesse Eisenberg is good, but he is too similar to Michael Cera, that I spent the whole time wishing that his character were played by Cera. Kristen Stewart is much better here than in Twilight, in which her performance convinced me she couldn’t act. The film could have been a lot funnier. Without the laughs, the story isn’t compelling or unique enough to make a good movie.

Rating: 4/7

Beard-off III: The shave-off

2009-03-10T23:39:00.000-04:00

“Did you lose the beard off?”

I have heard that from about 10 people since the end of the contest.

“Why does everyone assume I LOST?”

Most have said, “Because you don’t have a beard.” For some, I think that really is why they think I lost. For others, I think they underestimate me. They think I didn’t have it in me to win. I had it in me, and more to spare.

The beard-off started friendly enough. The contestants had, after all, gone in unknowingly. The beards existed before the competition. It was never about the beards. There was money at stake too, but it was never really about the money. The winner may not even try to claim the money. Well, maybe the winner will try to claim the monetary value of the cash prize in food and beer payments.

It was about winning. The beards looked good. Both contestants were constantly complimented on them. Before the end, there were two beard camps; maybe four. Some liked my beard better. Some crazies liked Chris’s better. Some thought I would win. Some foolishly thought Chris would. Some probably lied to our beard-faces about what they thought. Preference for one contestant’s beard had no bearing on who would prevail.

Six weeks past and both contestants had official beards. They were crossing the threshold from clean cut toward Joaquin Phoenix’s current facial growth, and in desperate need of trimming. No trimming allowed.

At the beginning, I think most people had faith in me over Chris, knowing, correctly how stubborn I am. I made it quite public to everyone that even though I grow a beard for a couple weeks from time to time, I hated the current reddish mess on my formerly youthful face. To my former supporters, this seemed like a sign of weakness in their champion. They forgot that I’m stubborn, but I’m also underhanded.

Chris knew it was coming to an end. I wanted out. He wanted out. At one point, he offered a truce- we would both just shave over the weekend and tell everyone we gave up. My public display of weakening brought his out privately, away from the arena of work.

“Well,” I told him. “I’m going to a party tonight and I kind of want to show off the beard. You can shave if you want to.” He was too smart for this (it wasn’t a very good attempt on my part). “Don’t try to win through trickery.”

On the way to the party, a drunken woman in a liquor store asked how old my friend Courtney is. She told her, “28.” I was standing behind Courtney in line and from behind me, I heard the woman ask me, “Is that your daughter?” Even though she was an old drunk hag, I turned around in full sass mode and said, “Do I LOOK like I could have a 28 year old daughter?!”

That made my estimated age in that woman’s glassy eye probably about 50. Nice. Yes, she was drunk and crazy. The point is: I was sick of the beard making me look any older.

The next day I sent Chris a text with a picture of my face without a beard. A short while later, he did the same from his phone to mine. It was over.

It wasn’t until we saw each other the next day that the winner became the loser. The picture I sent was from 2 weeks before the beard off began. No, I don’t sit around taking pictures of myself on my phone. I had sent a picture to my friend when I dyed my hair darker so she could see it.

One more picture marked the official end of the beard off: Chris with his clean-shaven face and me with my beard at the height of its craziness.

A few people have called what I did cheating. The picture was sent without any text. I knew exactly what it implied, and allowed my opponent to jump to a conclusion. His trust (ahem, weakness) led to my victory.

“You cheated.”
“I used trickery. I would have outlasted you. I just wanted to end it quicker. Did you really think you were ever gonna win?”

I shaved later that day.

Unable to deal with our naked faces, we both started growing beards again immediately.

Friday the 13th

2009-02-16T13:11:00.000-05:00

This past weekend was Valentine’s Day. That wasn’t until Saturday. I have nothing to celebrate for Valentine’s Day, but I’m not the type to sit around and mope about being single, or have an “F Valentine’s Day Party.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that, any excuse to have a party is okay by me. This weekend for me was Friday the 13th weekend. There are actually three this year (the most there can be in a calendar year), but this one was extra special because it brought us the remake of the deranged mother of modern slasher films: Friday the 13th. I wasn’t even given any pity Valentines this year. On Facebook, I received a Victims of Jason Voorhees gift.

Unlike the original Friday, Jason is the silent stalker in this film, not his vengeful mommy. Her part of the story is covered during the credits as she faces off with the only survivor from the first massacre. Inexplicably back from the dead, Jason witnesses Pamela Voorhees get decapitated. Even though out of the 11 films in the series (including the Freddy crossover) Mrs. Voorhees only appears in the original, the character deserves a little more attention. Jason has constantly been tricked and influenced by imitations or mentions of his mother. The heroine of Friday the 13th Part II wore her years-old blood stained sweater to convince Jason to stop. Freddy used her to essentially reduce Jason to the scared 10 year old boy he really is. Even in the remake, one of the characters looks like Jason’s mom and it may save her life. Given this acknowledgment, and the fact that the hundreds of people Jason has killed or will kill are all for his mother, she should have been given a prologue, not clips during the credits.

For the most part, this is a remake of the original four Fridays, ending with "The Final Chapter." Part I is covered during the credits, and II, III, and IV (which in the original series supposedly took place over one weekend) cover the rest of the film. Plotlines and references from these films do make it into the remake, which made this horror junky happy. Jason wears the white hood for his first attacks, until he finds his iconic hockey mask in a barn. Jared Padelecki plays Clay, who is looking for his missing sister Whitney, just as Rob was in "The Final Chapter." At least in this film the plot makes more sense, as Whitney has been missing for a month, not two days. Of course, there are teenagers camping and on the quest for sex in-tents sex (see what I did there?) and wild marijuana, and another group of teens in a beautiful lake house. No tents for them. And they already have the weed. The good thing about this is, the body count is high at 13.

There are promising elements in this remake. Some of the first deaths involve a bear trap and a girl stuck inside a sleeping bag, which Jason has hung from a tree over a campfire. I thought, and possibly whispered, “This Jason is sick!” It makes sense that a deranged, deformed, reanimated orphan who lives alone in the woods would make intricate traps and long, painful deaths for his victims. We also see Jason’s underground lair, where he stockpiles random items (being a packrat is his first hobby before murder), and even has a bell connected to trip wires so he knows when someone is on his turf. His lair could have been much scarier, and it would have been interesting to see a few shots of Jason spending time in there.

The rest of the film has a few funny moments and does build up the suspense more than the older movies. The big item in the minus column is that the deaths themselves are pretty standard- ax to the back, arrow through the head (and there is a bug zapper that could have played in so nicely and is left unused). Of course, a few people are dispatched with the machete, but that’s a classic and you can’t take that away from Jason. Even if you did, he would get it back and lop your head off. The new Jason of the first few minutes- twisted, vengeful, clever- spends the middle of the film boring the audience to death until the final showdown. The showdown is not the greatest fight for our favorite pissed off goalie, or the beautiful teenagers we’ve grown to hope don’t get murdered, but it does keep you guessing what’s going to happen. One character I thought would make it to the end bites it with 10 minutes to go, so I award bonus points for shock value. I don’t think I am ruining anything when I say it has the standard could-have-a-sequel horror movie ending. With Jason, who has been burned, hanged, buried, hacked with a machete, drowned, cryogenically frozen, blown into hundreds of flesh bits, and impersonated by an angry local, there could always be a sequel. Overall, it doesn’t reinvent, explain, or improve much so it is just unnecessary. For the die-hard horror fans, I would say go see this because it is still entertaining.

Rating: 5 out 0f 7

Valentine's Day: Surprisingly Not So Bad

2009-02-15T21:25:00.001-05:00

I’m not one of those girls who wears black around Valentine’s Day (in fact, I am currently sporting a red t-shirt that says, fittingly, ‘I’m with Cupid,' essentially the best play on words in t-shirt form of all time in the history of time) or curses the ‘man’ for creating such a hallmark holiday that preys on the fragile emotions of 20 plus single people who live alone, sans cats might I add.

No, I didn’t have any real plans, but I am not bitter. I spent it doing everything every single girl ever pictured in a movie would have done had a day in their chick-flick-world been Valentine’s. I stayed in and watched not one, but two movies that involved loved ones with Leukemia. I cried my eyes out while junking on potato chips, sour patch kids, and cookie dough. Add to that Vodka and Chaka Khan and you’ve got the first scene of Bridget Jones. You can call this my diary.

Truth is, in a secretly sadistic way, I love Valentine’s Day. It’s the one day I can wallow in self pity on being single/having no one who loves me and no one stops me. I can wear red and pink with a purpose. I can admit to ridiculous fantasies that my secret admirer (I have one, don’t even deny it, he’s just shy) is going to show up on my doorstep with a single red rose (or better, a bouquet of tulips, my favorite) and take me out on the most romantic night of my life. When that doesn’t happen, I can just eat more cookie dough.

It turns out- the day most single people groan about, dread, contemplate curling up under a rock during, isn’t so bad after all. I got through it, I survived. I do have one gripe, however. That the word 'Valentimes' which refers to the ‘Times’ you had on ‘Valentine’s Day’ never gets used around me again. I will punch anyone who says to me, “How were your Valentimes?” Don’t test me.

Jewsus

2009-02-14T19:07:00.000-05:00

"Jesus was Jewish."
"Yeah, until he started believing in himself."

He's Just Not That Into You

2009-02-08T23:46:00.000-05:00

When I first saw previews for He’s Just Not That Into You, I wondered: why are so many big name actors in this so-so looking movie? I thought maybe, just maybe, it could be a not-quite-as-good Love, Actually. It wasn’t.

The movie opens with a scene in which a mother consoles her daughter who has just been yelled at and pushed by a boy at the playground, by telling her he did it because he likes you. Soon follows a montage of women in bars, in sororities, in a military boot camp, and even in a small African village telling their friends the many reasons men don’t call back is that they are either insecure, intimidated, or perhaps lost their “hut number.” Or is it, as the title proposes that He’s Just Not That Into You?

The story focuses on four women at different stages of the game. Mary (Drew Barrymore) is dating in the technological age when she can find time- on Myspace, through texting, and getting messages on her cell phone and her work phone. Her storyline could seem overly cutesy, but her role is small and it’s genuinely funny when she complains about how exhausting it is to be rejected through all these media.

Gigi (Ginnifer Goodwin) is doing everything the old fashioned way- yes she cyber stalks, but she mainly stalks in person, and does “drive-bys” to bars where she might run into certain men. Even with a cell phone and internet access, Gigi waits around her apartment on weekends wondering why her pink, corded house-phone (I didn’t know anyone still had house phones besides my parents and grandparents) isn’t ringing after a guy said he would call. Maybe because he said “It was nice to meet you” at the end of the date. While she may not be techno-savvy, she does gain some insight on men from Alex (Justin Long), even if she is misreading the signs he sends her.

Beth (Jennifer Aniston) is waiting for Neil (Ben Affleck) to propose marriage after 7 years of dating and living together. When he tells her that is never going to happen, she dumps him. I found Beth to be the most likeable character in the movie because she is the only one not screwing anyone over or being screwed over. Beth spends the majority of the movie getting insults and sympathy from her family and taking care of her father after he has a heart attack. The closest thing she has to a date is getting hit on by a male Wiccan at her sister’s wedding, so it’s no surprise that she ends up back with Neil.

Janine (Jennifer Connelly) and Ben (Bradley Cooper) are a married couple in the middle of a house renovation. This renovation is the latest distraction in a failing marriage, which is based on Janine giving Ben an ultimatum- we get married, or we break up. Janine has given up on sex in her marriage and admits she is not as fun as she was at the beginning of the relationship. Janine learns late in the game that her husband is not that into her, and has to start all over again. Connelly has one of the best scenes in the movie as Janine finally makes a decision, and starts throwing Ben’s stuff out of the finished house and smashes a mirror to pieces. Her obsessive-compulsive side kicks in, and she immediately begins sweeping up the mess and leaves her husband’s belongings in a neat pile on the staircase.

The last “couple” are Conor (Kevin Connolly) and Anna (Scarlett Johansson), who are friends with benefits, only they’re not really friends, and there aren’t really benefits. This is the case where she is not into him. Conor never returns Gigi’s calls because he is too busy trying to get something more out of Anna. Meanwhile, Anna is chasing after a career by way of a married man, Ben.

This role-reversal points out what this movie could have used- a little more diversity in the storyline and cast. The movie features four white women with different views and approaches on dating, sex, and love and their white, male love interests. That has been done on “Sex and the City” (yes, I know the movie is based on the book from a line of an episode of SATC). When a black coworker of Alex’s says “Day-amn,” followed by nothing, I can’t help but think of Malik in Not Another Teen Movie saying “I am the token black guy. I'm just supposed to smile and stay out of the conversation and say things like: ‘Damn,’ ‘Shit,’ and ‘That is whack.’”

There are also gay characters, but they are there to comment on their own erections at the office and to teach Mary that Myspace is the new booty call. Conor, while trying to woo the gay crowd for his real estate business, learns that gay signals are different from straight signals: a three second stare means “I want to sleep with you,” anything less than that means “I’m not interested.” Because, gay people are all about one thing and none of them have complex relationships and dating problems?

Overall, this movie is watch-able, but not at all memorable. The actors all do a fine job, but no one stands out. There is some funny dialogue, but no great one-liners. I give it a 4 out of 7. I would give it 5, but…I’m just not that into it.

Rating: 4 out of 7

Beard-off continues...

2009-02-01T14:27:00.000-05:00

The beard off was established at work a couple weeks back, between a coworker and I. Our beards are now noticeable enough that people are asking “What’s with the beard?” Or, “I like the beard!”, or “The beard is not bad. You don’t look like a bum is what I’m trying to say.” This is the longest either of us has ever allowed our facial hair to be.

Rules of the beard off
1. The first person to shave loses.
2. The bet on the first week is $20.
3. At the end of each week, the bet increases by $5.
4. Beards may be maintained and shaped, but not shortened (razors are allowed, beard trimmers are not).
5. Mustaches may be trimmed, if they are growing past the top lip (for clean appearance. Also, I am concerned about the hair going in my mouth. And getting food in it).
6. Beards can be “Just for Men”-ed. I recently dyed my hair from dirty blonde to brown. With the random redness of my beard, I asked that this rule be added in case looking extra weird might lead to my demise.

Now that more than the original handful of people is in the know, people at first seem quickly intrigued and just as quickly disinterested. “Who is winning?” they will ask. The thing is, no one wins until someone loses. The bet is on who will keep the beard, even if it reaches Gaff status (named for a coworker with a great, bushy, phenomenal beard). Gaff can rock a beard much better than either of us can.

Until the loss, there is nobody in the lead, and no way to determine who is doing better. That really seemed to bother people. Then something happened this week, as both beards took off in different directions. Chris made the decision to grow the beard lower on his chin and neck, with a little separation from the mustache. Mine is trimmed at the jaw line (which has been described as “All American”) and is more of a classic beard.

Now that the beards became legitimate enough upon which to form opinions, sides are starting to form. A leader could be determined before a winner is determined. Perhaps most maddening to the spectators is the fact that the contestants don’t seem to be too concerned with the actual competition yet.

“You should be trash talking each other and psyching the other guy out!”
“Oh, Chris I meant to tell you the other night that you look really good with a beard.”
“Thanks! Your beard is starting to look really nice. It’s filling in.”
“Thank you! I’ll see you at the finish line.”
“I hope you win!”

In defense of Disney

2009-01-18T22:30:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine recently wondered how I (a 26 year old) could possibly watch Disney Channel shows for entertainment. This made me stop and really think about my life. Am I just a big creep who doesn't want to grow up? Or is there something more about the Disney Channel that appeals to me? Now, this may sound a bit ridiculous but I think there is something to be said about watching shows where there are no bodies being dug up, no drug interventions, no love bus with brett michaels, just silly misunderstandings and wackiness ensuing. I think it brings us back to a much simpler time. And of course, it just plain ROCKS...

Beard-off

2009-01-18T21:01:00.000-05:00

It all started on Facebook, this discussion of beards. Chris is a coworker of mine.

“Chris is growing a beard out of laziness.” C-Facebook

“That's the only reason I ever grow a beard. I shave it when someone asks ‘Oh, are you trying to grow a beard?’ when I thought it was at beard status.”-T, facebook

“The scruff has been receiving positive feedback. I don't think I'd look good with a beard and I start to plateau at a certain point, but what the fuck. Razors are expennnnnsive.”-Chris, Facebook

At a party, a friend of mine complimented me on the facial hair, and several people concurred...

“I love the facial hair! You should keep it that way. Don’t actually grow a beard, just always have five o’clock shadow.”-D
“That would require me buying some kind of special beard razor. Plus, I would always have to explain why I always have 5 o’clock shadow. I hate explaining things, remember that’s why I didn’t continue wearing fake glasses?”-T

A coworker agreed, and fueled the fire...

“I like your beard, meng! Are you copying Chris?”
“No, I always grow a beard in a cycle. I go a week without shaving, then I clean it up, then I have a beard, then it gets itchy, and I shave it and start over.”
“I think you should both grow beards…and be twins!”

Chris and I met, beard-face to beard-face and discussed our laziness-inspired facial hair.

“Are you growing a beard too?”-C
“I guess, I’ll probably shave it soon. Gina thought I was copying you. I told her I always do this in a cycle. Apparently, you and I are on the same cycle. That happens when ladies hang out a lot like we do.”-T

The official challenge was extended at the end of the work week, on an interoffice call...

“Are you a gambling man?”-C
“No. What? No.”-T
“Aww…so you won’t put money on who can grow a beard longer without shaving?"-C
“Oh, yeah, no, I’ll do that.”-T
“Yes! It’s a beard off!”-C

A few seconds after the challenge phone call ended, my phone rang again...

“Meng! I’m so excited about the beard-off! I think you’re going to win because you’re stubborn!”
“Is anyone betting on Chris?”
“No!”
(BTdubs, they call me "Meng" at work. It's a thing.)

I hung up the phone and shared the news with my office. Things get a little boring around the office, so sometimes you have to make your own fun. Plus, everyone seems to dig a guy with a beard.

“Chris and I are having a beard-off!”-Tim
“Yes!”-A

“It’s a motherf*cking beard-off.”-S

Resolution

2009-01-17T00:42:00.000-05:00

Here at justforscuz, we decided that it was time to share our resolutions. Why? Because it's a half a month into the New Year. With a group of procrastinators the likes of which you've never seen (unless you've seen us), that's about on time.

I for one, did not make resolutions, really. In the past few years, I've made some improvements to my situation- I lost 50 pounds (September to March-ish), moved out of my parent's house (last minute decision in August, and moved through several jobs to get above that poverty wage line! (in October, June, August, and September).

January just doesn't do it for me as far as resolution season. Every year I resolve to just get through the holidays and keep on trucking. The only thing I want to do more of is go to shows, since I'm so close to Allston Rock City with several venues to see real bands or friends' friends' bands.

That's not really a resolution. So I've expanded.

1. I'm going to follow music more closely. I listen to some junk music. My ipod is full of everything random, with some hints of real music. Every once in a while I'm introduced to something halfway decent, but I never pursue it or focus on it for very long. Without having the actual object of a tape or CD, I am not forced to obsess and digest anything. I am going to make an effort.

2. Go to more movies this year. Movies used to be my thing, more than music ever was. TV was up there too. Each year, though, I see fewer and fewer movies, either in theaters or rental. I am going to see movies more often, even if it means seeing them by myself in a matinee. Last year I went to the movies by myself for the first time (a resolution set a long time ago, fulfilled in June). I always thought it would be awkward or embarrassing; it was neither. If I wait to see things with my friends, I end up seeing nothing all year but Wanted and Twilight and then I'm the only one who hates the movie (even though I kind of enjoy that).

3. Read more. Magazines. I need to read books too, but I already do that. I try to keep up with the news, but I usually just end up reading about some new star on the Yahoo! Science pages. When I signed up for a race a month ago, I received 3 free months to 3 magazines. I chose Men's Health, People, and Time. I feel like that covers a good base of information. I hate ignorance, and I like to be informed. I always read Men's Health and it is full of valuable information. Time will keep me up to date on world events. People will help me relate to "the kids" at school.

4. Races. I have done a few 5Ks. In the next year I want to do several events. I am doing a 10K in February, followed a week later by the Race Up Boston Place. I may or may not do a half marathon in February also. Since it is on short notice, I may allow myself to back out. Either way, I want to do at least...15 race events by the end of the year. My two loftiest goals are a half marathon, and the Santa Speedo Run. I will have to lose about 20 pounds of fat and dignity to do that though. Oh and also, add 20 pounds of spray tan, cuz homeboy is white.

BONUS: Get in a fight. With all of this positivity, I feel the need to keep it all in check. I've never been in a fight in my life. My brothers and I used to kick the crap out of each other. I've literally had my head stepped on by my older brother. Because of my little brother, I had stitches on the back and front of my head. And the kid who lived down the street from me growing up once knocked me offside the head with my Bart Simpson skate board. That was all in good fun. I should not wish bad things or drama in my life, and God forbid anything happen to my gorgeous teeth. Still, a part of me needs to know how I would do if I really got into it with someone.

My Resolutions, by Ms. Anita Rackow
I really only have one resolution and it is to start doing all the things I've been saying I want to do for years. So from here on out, if I say, "I want to do that" then I am going to give it a shot. You might think this is a cop out resolution. You might think-- Ha! Now she never needs to do anything because maybe she won't want to do anything all year. Well, you are wrong. This is going to be incredibly difficult because I say things all the time without thinking. For example. "I want to be a bartender" "I could be a sugar artist and my sugar sculptures would look better than that guy's." "Springboard diving, how hard could it be? I will be in the 2012 Olympics." "I'm not buying that ring. I could make that and sell it for twice as much." "I want to make a mockumenary." "I want to make a documentary." "The tomatoes at the grocery store suck, I am going to grow my own." "Do you think I could get a small business loan in this economy to open up my hot chocolate shop?"

If you know me at all, you've heard me say one of those things. I should quit now, because there is no way I can get all of that stuff done. However, I am just going to revise my goal a little. Instead of trying to achieve everything on the list and everything that pops up on the future list, my resolution this year is to figure it out and try it out. Experiment. What do I really want to do with the rest of my life? (Or at least for the next 15 years of my life before I start shrinking and losing bone mass).

Along this quest, I am going to also be more diligent about a healthy lifestyle. The ideas in my brain are so chaotic at times, I think I need to tone it down in my real life to come up with a balance. So, I might be a little more zen this year. I might start doing yoga in my living room and going for dawn runs before work. I'm going to continue to eat organic and as local as I can (after I finish off this bag of Baked Sour Cream and Cheddar Lays) and do some home cooking for this one and only. I'm not going to stop getting caught up in crazy ideas and big dreams, but I am going to do some serious soul searching to find out what really makes me tick. And if there is an opportunity, I am going to go for it. For real this time. Happy New ME.

Resolve This aka Krissy's resolution.

My only resolution is to do the things that I always say "oh I don't do that" when people ask me to do them. Make sense?

Examples:
"I don't run unless being chased" (I have signed up for both half and full marathons this year)

"I don't date unless being chased" (I have signed up for Eharmony...we shall see where this goes)

"I don't ride a bike unless being chased" (Haven't touched this one yet...we'll see in the Spring)

You get the picture. I no longer need to be chased.

The Strangers

2009-01-14T22:55:00.000-05:00

The true measure of how scary a horror movie is, is how it sticks with you. Friday the 13th movies eventually became something of a joke (a joke I still enjoy), but even so I can't help but think of a hockey mask wearing psycho if I'm by a lake at night (this does not happen often, maybe because Jason Voorhies ruined lakes for me. Or I'm not "outdoorsy.") The Blair Witch Project was a polarizing film- viewers appreciated that it left a lot to the imagination...or they had no imagination (their childhoods must have sucked).

The Strangers did not stick with me. Immediately after watching the film, I walked home over a mile on a cold, winter night, at 4 in the morning, not seeing a single soul. Even Signs had me freaked out the night I saw it. Being an M. Night Shyamalamadingdong movie, it falls apart on repeated viewings. The image of of the alien fingers reaching under doorways still stuck with me enough that I avoided looking at doors for the rest of the night, and literally had to jump into my bed, the way I would have done after a nightmare when I was six years old. So...I am not tough.

On my walk alone, in the middle of the night, through sketchy backroads immediately after watching this movie, I should have been envisioning people in a suit and a hood or maternity dresses and weird cupie-doll masks. I have an overactive imagination, but even my delusional brain can't make those things scary. The hood was a too-tailored, Hollywood-ized version of what Jason Voorhies wore in Friday the 13th II. In the few scenes it is shown out of focus, in the background, it was admittedly somewhat offputting. The girls wearing doll masks and hippie clothes were never scary. And I think dolls and hippies are scary, so go figure.

Most of the time, the villains are making lame attempts at taunting the couple played by Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman. I would delve into their story and characters, but their story is boring and, what characters? Both are decent actors, but they don't have much to do here. It could have been a silent film, the dialogue was so forgettable.

The lurky figures in the background lingered too long and lost their effect. They spend most of the film standing around or slowly stalking the young couple, only to suddenly disappear. Jason was famous for his disappearing act, but you knew if he took off, he was killing someone more expendable. By the end of this movie, only 3 people die, and the three killers are responsible for only 2 deaths. First of all, that is a terrible murdering average. Second, the death they are not responsible for is the only dramatic or suspenseful one. Scary villains? They are about as scary as the bumbling trio of fools from Superman III, but nobody turns into a robot.

Note: this movie is not even 90 minutes long, but it will fill like 2 hours plus. It is also misleadingly "based on a true story." The story stems from an incident in which a stranger came knocking on director Bryan Bertino's door as child, and later he found out houses had been broken into. The rest is based on the Manson family. I would call that remotely based on a true story.

Rating: 3 out of 7

WTF Moment of the Night

2009-01-08T21:24:00.001-05:00

Flipping through the channels this evening, biding my time until 30 Rock, I come across Grey's Anatomy. Hadn't watched it in a long long time, so I tuned in for a bit.

Then. I. See. Him.

Denny. From what, season 2? The guy who was in several episodes and then DIED.

Izzy is standing there talking to Denny, her dead fiancée, about Alex, with whom she is currently dating. About how to tell Alex that she is seeing Denny, who is dead.

WTF. Seriously.

Seriously?

Who is your favorite Superhero?

2009-01-07T23:59:00.001-05:00

I spend a lot of time thinking about superheroes. I think it is because I always wanted to be one, and secretly I sit around hoping that one day a radioactive spider will bite me and give me spidey sense or I will suddenly develop powers because yes, my parents aren’t actually my parents they are just the people who found me in a corn field 20 odd years ago.

Whenever I ponder superheroes, I have the same debate about who my favorite superhero is, of the main three superheroes that have had fairly recent movies made about them: Superman, Spider-man, or Batman. [Disclaimer: I am basing all of my knowledge on movies I’ve seen, not comic books. I know this makes me not a true geek, but what can I say.. nothing at all.]

Superman always ends up on the bottom of the list. I think it is partly because he was born with his powers and the fact that he has so many! Hello, greedy. Thus, the fights aren’t as fun, because if his skin of steel doesn’t work, he can just burn you with his eyes or fly away, or use his incredible speed to get away, or look through the walls with x-ray vision and spot the problem. Sure, one tiny meteorite could end up being his downfall, but somehow that isn’t enough to hold my interest. To be honest, I’ve always preferred Clark Kent, and I don’t think it is good for the bookish alter-ego to take precedence over the mysterious handsome superhero.

Speaking of secret identities, the whole Superman/ Clark Kent thing has got to be the worst best kept secret in the history of superheroes. I mean, sure, Superman wears tights, a cape, and has gelled back hair. But he looks exactly the same as Clark Kent, minus the glasses. Plus, Clark wears his super outfit right under his regular clothes. Has no one seen a glimpse of the blue and red spandex peaking out from underneath a shirt sleeve? It’s unrealistic.

As much as Superman is classic and you’ve got to appreciate him for the fact he is basically the one true hero in the history of the world, the true rivalry is between Spider-man and Batman. Both characters have a bit of a dark side, and considering giving it all up for a girl (or just to have a life). Both characters have dead relatives, that motivate them from the grave to be better people. Both characters have a bit of a chip on their shoulders, a sense of responsibility because of how they were raised and how things panned out. They both have good disguises that include masks, in Spidey’s case his entire face is covered.

Then, there are the differences. Spider-man has actual powers. Spider bite makes him part spider. A nerd turned Super. He gets points for being a former nerd, for being raised simply by his aunt and uncle, even though his uncle’s name was Uncle Ben which always makes me think of the rice.

Batman, on the other hand, doesn’t have powers. He learns fighting skills and uses his insane amount of money to make special gadgets in order to fight crime. He doesn’t have parents either, was basically raised by Alfred (his guardian, his butler, I am never sure).

This is where it gets sticky. Who is the better person? Batman, who puts his money to good use to serve Gotham City, or Spider-man, who has no money, lives in a shithole, and still swings around the city trying to save lives. Is it better to have everything and give everything, or to have nothing and give everything? Who has more merit?

Well, when you can’t decide the better merit, you have to judge on looks and looks alone. In this case, I think Bruce Wayne is going to have to win on this one. He is an excellent secret identity. In recent movies, he has been so good about acting the part of the wealthy playboy who loves to party and hang with models. I especially love how clueless he seems. In this way, Batman sacrifices his real identity’s reputation (if real is the person you are born, what ‘real’ really means is certainly up for debate) for the greater good of the city. In fact, he even sacrifices Batman’s reputation in The Dark Knight at the end, just to maintain that the White Knight (Harvey Dent / Two Face) was a martyr even though even he could not withstand the evil that comes from great loss and became part villain.

Spider-man’s secret identity, Peter Parker, doesn’t quite measure up. Sure, he’s cute in a geeky way, but he is always so flustered and scattered. He needs to step up. Then again, maybe not. Maybe that is the mastermind behind his secret identity. Regardless, I am still loving Bruce Wayne at this moment. Or Christian Bale. Or whatever.

I think I may have come to a decision. Based on my almost midnight musings, Batman reigns supreme in my personal debate about who is the best superhero. He’s self made, he uses his money for good and not evil, he sacrifices himself time and time again, and he’s handsome when played by Christian Bale. Looks like we have a winner. At least until the next Spider-man or Superman movie comes out.... Or until another superhero comes along to sweep me off my feet, anyway.

Blerg!spot: Parking in the snow

2009-01-07T23:16:00.000-05:00

After much debate with myself, and a nap to muster the strength to do so, I decided to go to the gym tonight, and brave the second ice storm Boston has gotten in a week. I have let myself get a bit out of shape, while I shopped around for gyms and decided that walking to work was enough exercise. This theory worked in part, since I have to use my legs more than the average person does. Seriously, you should see these gams. Walking to work does not, however, keep away my handles of love or give my arms the strength to push myself off the ground in the inevitable fall I will for sure experience on one of my daily leg-commutes.

I did a workout. An easy one. I have gotten in and out of shape enough to know not to overdo it right away. That’s for the resolution crowd, who are currently clogging up the gym scene and hurting themselves enough to feel it’s okay to give up next week. I can’t wait as they drop off; their failure gives me the boost I need to do better than them.

As I looked for a parking spot, the rain had had time to freeze and make the roads slick and give a nice hard slippery shell to the snow already on the ground, like that chocolate shell for ice cream, but not delicious. The first two side streets were full, so I drove one further. This particular street features one of the many decently sized hills in my neighborhood. It also featured one remaining parking spot, so I went for it. But as my back tires got over the tiny snow pile at the back of the spot, I got stuck. I tried wiggling back and forth but could only move in reverse, aided by gravity and black ice, toward the truck behind me. Blerg!

I made enough noise that two guys came out to help. There is usually a shovel in my trunk that would be helpful in this situation. During the blizzard two weeks back, I loaned it to my friend and I haven’t asked for it back. Using my ice scraper to plow half the street, I cleared a path for my car. The two good Samaritans got me out of the ice, I thanked them, and drove off.

Still, I needed a spot. After a few trips around the block, I spotted one space left right by my apartment. Like Liz Lemon, I said to myself “I want to go to there.” Parking has been an issue since I moved to city and in the first week, had my car towed and received five parking tickets. I told the city to suck it and had three of them excused. After changing my address on my credit card bill and changing my car’s registration, I made the hike to City Hall to get an Allston/Brighton parking permit. On that day, they told me that the registry was down, so they couldn’t look up my information. Come back tomorrow. I left, defeated. Then I said, F that, called the registry, found it was back up, marched back into the dungeon that is City Hall and got my permit. Huzzah!

Armed with my permit, I refuse to park anywhere far or inconvenient. I’m too, what’s the word, good, for that. This spot was “pimp” and the reason it was still open was the two-foot snow bank taking up half the remaining area. But the spot, so sweet. Now I’ll just grab my shovel, and…BLERG! Luckily, my friend who borrowed the shovel lives on the next street. Unluckily, she is in New Jersey. I called her roommate…who did not answer.

I was going to have to move the two-foot snow pile with my two feet. My two feet, and a broken lamp. Using trash to find parking, now that’s resourceful. Kicking, rapid-fire like Billy Blanks, I broke down the pile, sending snow and ice flying into the darkness. I made like Johnny in The Karate Kid and swept the legs out from under the mini mountain. My tires smell like burning, I probably damaged some toes, I touched street trash- but I can see my car from my kitchen. Good night.

That's What She Said

2009-01-01T23:51:00.000-05:00

"You be careful with that pole. Don't get any crazy ideas."

Seven Pounds

2008-12-28T13:46:00.000-05:00

“An IRS agent with a fateful secret embarks on an extraordinary journey of redemption by forever changing the lives of seven strangers.”

The trailers were vague enough for this film, and I had seen so few, that I was able to go into this movie without any expectations. It was the 2nd movie I’ve seen in two years, the other being I Am Legend, that was saved by casting Will Smith. If anyone less entertaining and engaging than Smith was cast in either movie, they would have been terrible.

Seven Pounds could have come off as completely cheesy crap, if not for the performances. It is almost the Patch Adams of 2008, seeming like a good film at first, until you re-watch it and realize that it is overly sappy schlock. Luckily, Robin Williams is not trying to change seven lives here.

Will Smith and Rosario Dawson have surprisingly endearing on screen chemistry. Dawson was sassy and sweet; I liked her in this more than anything I’ve seen her in. Even so, the film focuses too much on them, and not enough on the overall process that Thomas is going through. Smith gave another great performance, but there should have been more for him to work with. I would have liked to see some of the darker side of what Ben Thomas was going through; we only get glimpses of him dealing with the guilt that set him on his journey.

A scene at the very beginning shows exactly where the movie is going, but there are several quick flashbacks, as if the filmmakers are trying to disguise the sequence of events. The plot unfolds very slowly at first. If you pay attention, the clues come together very gradually. Most of the audience still seemed shocked by events toward the end that to me didn’t seem so secret by that point.

The name itself is still somewhat puzzling. Many assume it refers to the weight of one specific thing (highlight for Spoiler- the human heart), but a little research will tell you that one thing doesn’t weigh anywhere close to 7 pounds. Others are interpreting it as the accumulated weight of things Ben Thomas is giving back, but considering the weight of one of those items (spoiler- a beach house), that makes no sense. The best explanation I’ve found is a reference to “The Merchant of Venice”-he is giving back a symbolic “pound of flesh” to each of the seven people he has decided to help, to redeem himself.

I thought Seven Pounds might be the first Oscar-nominated movie I’ve seen before the awards in years, that didn’t happen to be a blockbuster everyone saw. The story itself is coherent and somewhat interesting, but its execution is not Oscar worthy. I would rather see Smith or Dawson win an acting award on a better film, in memorable roles.

Overall grade: 4

Movie Rating System

2008-12-28T13:35:00.000-05:00

I'm about to review a movie for the first time on justforscuz. The movie is 7 pounds, look for the review.

First I need to establish the ratings system that I will be using. The other members of the justforscuz team may or may not use it- but I am basing my movies on a scale of 7. This has nothing to do with the movie title.

Why 7? With other scales, I can too easily equate them to a letter grade or percentage. Yes, I could easily do this with a scale of 7, but I won't, and it allows me to give a quicker, gut reaction than to deliberate over whether a film should get a B+ or an 87%. I own a lot of movies, so I also included how likely I am to re-watch or buy the movie. So, here we go:

7- Excellent; I will probably buy this movie the day it comes out
6- Really Good; I will buy this movie, but will probably wait
5- Decent; I might buy it on sale, previously viewed
4- Okay; I don't care if I see it again
3- Pretty bad; I'll watch it again, but I'm going to talk over it and ruin it for you
2- Terrible; This is where I will start to rant about how bad it is
1- Complete Garbage; I will probably stop being your friend if you like this

Also, why 7? Just cuz. Just for scuz.

Nerd Alert: Butterbeer is delicious

2008-12-22T17:19:00.001-05:00

In the future we will use this blog to announce cool events that we will be attending or think you should attend, but in this case I either forgot to mention I was going or was embarrassed to mention I was going, so I didn't. My apologies. Won't happen again.

This past Sunday, the 4th Annual Yule Ball was held in The Middle East in Central Square, Cambridge MA.

If you have to ask what a Yule Ball is then perhaps you aren't nerdy enough to be my friend and read these posts. It has to do with the Harry Potter books, okay? And I like them, so don't judge me.

Since I tend to think a lot of the Harry Potter spin-off things are a bit overkill, I was a little nervous to attend this event. I was worried that what could be a truly magical experience would be ruined by people trying too hard. (I also wasn't sure if I was dressed appropriately. I wondered if I should have worn an evening gown and silver heels -- turns out yes, that is what I should have worn-- instead of my casual knit dress and snow boots. Oh well. Dumbledore conjured up a snowstorm for the benefit of the Yule Ball, and unfortunately, that ended up dictating my outfit).

I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised. Okay, so the crowd was a mixed bag. There were tweens and teens (it was an all ages event), adults, college students, and then my friend and I, the random 26 year-olds who crashed the ABC Family special. But, they served butterbeer at the bar and it was quite tasty and everything you had imagined butterbeer could be and more. Everyone laughed at and understood each other's weird Harry Potter jokes and references. Now I kind of understand why people start clubs- it is cool to have a common interest with strangers. I'd even consider it fun.

And, get this, the music was pretty good, too. Most songs had catchy tunes or memorable choruses so you could sing along if you so desired. Many were based on songs we know and love, with slight wording changes, which made it even easier to get into. The lyrics were witty and well thought out. The best part of the bands is that they didn't take themselves seriously. They were rocking out on stage, putting it all out there, singing about books, and having fun. At the end of the night, I hit up the merch table so I could relive the Yule Ball night after night after night by purchasing various souvenirs, and they even had a compilation CD available (see above right). Which was pretty cool considering most events that have multiple bands don't come prepared with one CD you can purchase encompassing the best music of the evening.

All in all- it was an evening of good clean geeky fun. Sure, I probably had one too many butterbeers, my friend accidentally joined the Harry Potter Alliance, and I ended up with a Whomping Willows t-shirt that I just had to have. But, I have to say, I can't wait til next year.

Who doesn't love a good lawn ornament battle?

2008-12-22T10:18:00.000-05:00

Company Loves Misery

2008-12-21T01:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a half-day at work. Unlike when a blizzard hit last year and management waited until the height of the storm to close the school, our new president informed us all in the morning that school would close at noon. So this time I didn’t have to take six hours getting home, by train, then trying to drive, leaving my car in the garage overnight, and getting back on the train to be picked up. Instead, I had a leisurely stroll to get some refreshments and settle in with a nice winter storm movie.

But this wasn’t the kind of day that called for a Christmas movie. No, this kind of day being trapped inside for a few hours, a week before Christmas called for a nice, warm, winter horror movie: Misery. I love watching movies at appropriate times: Christmas movies in December; horror movies in October; Ferris Bueller’s Day Off when skipping work (it’s like my version of the museum scene- why would you do that on your day off?). Misery may be the perfect movie to watch during your time waiting out a storm. Why?

It’s legit! First, the movie itself is great. The performances are fantastic. James Caan is entertaining as the increasingly sarcastic writer Paul Sheldon who can’t escape his biggest fan. “You know, some people might consider this an oddball situation,” his character Paul Sheldon tells his caretaker Annie Wilkes, as she forces him to write a sequel he never planned.

Even better, is Kathy Bates in the role of Annie Wilkes, a former nurse whose current patient is her favorite author, who she doesn’t plan on letting go of. Kathy Bates won an Oscar and a Golden Globe for her performance, and both are well deserved. She is all at once sweet, frightening, and funny. She’s a monster that you don’t relate to until she is shown sitting in bed watching The Love Connection, eating a bag of Cheetos with a 2 liter soda bottle on her nightstand. Or was I the only one who saw a bit of myself in her in that scene?

Misery all Winter long: I love Christmas movies, and there are a few that I HAVE to watch every year. If I didn’t love them, I would have gone to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when I visited Cleveland, because it was next to my hotel. Instead, I walked 4 miles downtown to visit the House from A Christmas Story. Misery is a winter movie that isn’t weird to watch when the holidays are over. You can watch it any time a snow storm comes, which in Boston can be from December through April.

Other movies are inappropriate: Um, there’s a blizzard going on outside. People are skidding around all irrational on their cars. Some may take hours to get home and there could be injuries and death. Wouldn’t you feel like a fool watching something like Snow Day with Chevy Chase should something unfortunate happen?

“The swearing, Paul”: I’m a bit of a potty mouth, so it’s good to find low-key alternatives to swearing by calling something an “oogie mess” or yelling “cock-a-doodie” in traffic. Annie Wilkes is also inspiring too any dirty birdy in the way she can invent new swear words like “bitchly” and “Christ-ing.”

Warm-fuzzy feeling: The whole time you watch this movie, you can just think “At least I’m not in Paul Sheldon’s situation,” and what could be more reassuring? When he’s being drugged and trying to slip knockout powder into Annie’s wine, you’re eating popcorn and slipping more Bailey’s into your friend’s or special someone's coffee.

The next time a storm hits, bring on the Misery. Grab a warm drink, wrap yourself up in a blanket, and be happy that no one is going to take a sledgehammer to your ankles.

Because you can never have enough holiday music...

2008-12-20T19:06:00.001-05:00

I don't consider myself a music expert. No lie, in high school I had probably 10 CDs- total. And one cassette tape, the soundtrack to Friends. In college I expanded my musical horizons by being friends with the friends I have now (who also contribute to this blog), but I am still usually a few steps behind the normal music curve.

The only music I really get into, really love, is holiday music. I think it stems from the fact I am not one of those people who has a good audio memory. Some people hear a song once, and can sing all of the words the next time. Not me. I usually sing the chorus and the rest of the time I say "ba-dee-da-duh." Or I lip sing and look around awkwardly hoping no one will notice. Or I am perpetually confused thinking Murder on the Dance Floor is about an actual murder on the dance floor, not just someone who wants to prevent the killing of the groove.

But Christmas carols have been ingrained in my brain ever since the first time I listened to and sang along to the Disney Christmas Album. I've heard these classic songs time and time again, so not only do I know the words, but I am comfortable singing them (because around Christmas people tend to hold off on making fun off your off-key vocal skills). This makes the music far more enjoyable than the kind "kids these days" are listening to. I'll take Dean Martin's A Marshmallow World over Beyonce's Single Ladies (Put a ring on it) any day.

Thus, I am always on hot pursuit of the latest and greatest holiday albums. This season's rising star became apparent early in the season, but I have held off revealing it because I wanted to give other holiday albums a chance to be released and reviewed. But, despite being tempted to name Kristin Chenoweth's as my favorite (because I am still quite upset Pushing Daisies is canceled and did you hear that Cheno accepted a role on a new show being a quirky crazy lawyer so we know the show is really toast), that's just not true. And the Christmas season is the time is for telling the truth, as we all learned from Love, Actually.

So, here's my favorite new holiday compilation album of the season:

The Hotel Café presents Winter Songs features original music by Sara Bareilles and my favorite Ingrid Michaelson, as well as Brandi Carlile. They also have holiday standards like Sleigh Ride, Silver Bells, and Silent Night covered by KT Tunstall, Alice Smith, and Katie Havnevik, to name a few. Since these are all the key players on my iPod this year, I was happy to purchase their take on the holidays for my listening enjoyment. Walking to and from work hasn't been better-- even in the blizzard of Friday evening- with these ladies singing in my ears. I also love the album design; I find it darling and not too cutesy for my taste. What's even better, you can get the entire album for only $7.99 on iTunes.

Real life lessons...courtesy of the Muppets?

2008-12-17T21:56:00.000-05:00

While watching the newest Muppets Christmas special, I realized that there’s a lot to be learned from these old friends...

Christmas Spirit
My favorite recurring theme in the Muppets’ Christmas specials is the true meaning of Christmas being love and hope. Cheesy and cliché, yes, but somehow they make it palatable and utterly charming every time. Especially when Kermit is proselytizing wearing his tiny little Christmas sweater.

Laughter
Thank you, Fozzie, for reminding us that not every joke can be a winner and it’s always cool to provide your own laugh track. Wocka-Wocka-Wocka!

Singing
The Muppets show us that it’s ok to break out in song every once in a while, especially when we feel confused, defeated, hopeful, happy, and, heck, any other emotion at all. Muppets never need an excuse to sing!

Differences
Everyone knows the coolest Muppet is Gonzo, and he doesn’t even know what he is! No Muppet has ever looked at him like he doesn’t belong. We are all a little gonzo, and that’s more than ok.

Friendship
Only the Muppets would have a frog, a bear, a rat, a prawn, and a gonzo all working together for the common good. They give us hope that we can all overcome our differences, work together, and, someday, take Manhattan.

Good Eatah!

2008-12-15T23:28:00.000-05:00

I would like to introduce you to a blog written by my friend Liz. Liz blogs about gluten-free and dairy-free eating and cooking. I have eaten many of the deserts she makes and they are amazing! There's a lot of great recipes and food reviews, as well as the adventures of her dog Henry.

The Good Eatah!

I need a Hero

2008-12-11T23:59:00.000-05:00

This is going to be sad news for Ms. Rackow, but hopefully good news for Heroes. The cancellation of Pushing Daisies means that Bryan Fuller will return to Heroes as a consultant.

Here is the full article.

Here are my own thoughts on what they need to do to fix heroes.

Stop fake killing people!
I would list all of the characters that have died, only to not be dead. I’ll make it simpler: all of them. There are the mind-controlling-fake reality deaths, the cut to commercial falls and gunshots, time-traveling trickery deaths. And there are of course, the alternate future deaths, and if you count the ones where Peter or Sylar blow up, everyone has died.

Stop killing the wrong people!
They never should have killed Adam or Elle. Elle is one of the only characters who seemed morally cloudy in a season emphasizing on characters choosing sides. Both characters were charmingly wicked, surrounded by too many characters who are evil but not interesting (Arthur Petrelli), or sickeningly well-intentioned (Peter, Claire, Hiro). Mohinder became morally murkier this season, but by the time they show us if he’s turning into a fly or a spider, I won’t care. It’s too late to fix this though, because if they bring them back, it will only add to the fake death toll.

Kill someone important!
The show needs to grow a pair, and kill one of the following: Peter, Hiro, Nathan, Claire, Mohinder, Noah Bennett, or Parkman. They don’t have to go “24” and kill three major characters in one episode, but a real, important, shocking death in the near future would show that anyone is expendable.

Enough with the time travel!
Too many people have the power. Hiro having the power was fine. He learned that he couldn’t prevent every last thing from happening. Then Peter got it; Peter, the nurse, who wants to help everyone and fix everything, and thinks he’s the only one to do it. With the power of time travel, Peter can change even the things that have already happened.

Arthur Petrelli then stole that power, among others, from Peter (phew!). Did he ever do anything with it? I can’t remember, because with all these people jumping in and out of time, I can’t keep track of what has happened, what is just an alternate present, what was supposed to happen, and if the things I do remember are still coming. There’s a reason Doc Brown wanted to destroy the DeLorean (even though he then created a time-traveling train-what the hell was that about?)

The time travel angle seems to be a “get out of jail free card” for the show’s creators. The characters can rewrite the course of the show for them when things go wrong story-wise.

Fight!
Heroes was my new nerdy fix for a serial drama, hopefully with some intense action and fighting! In order of most to least whimsical, Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, to Xena, Buffy, Angel, and 24 all gave me my fix for a spot of violence. Occasionally there are some fight scenes, but most involve standing 20 feet apart comparing who has stolen more powers, and then trying to saw each others’ foreheads open.

The only real violence usually involves a gun. For a show where the characters all have powers, guns come into play too often. Guns are only threatening when I believe that characters won’t dodge the bullet, freeze the bullet, or heal the wound it causes. There needs to be more hand-to-hand combat. The X-Men have powers, but they could win a fight without them. Niki was always good for that, but she died so that they could introduce her sister, who makes ice.

A big finale!
The finale would be a great time to execute any of these plans. Even the first finale was a little lame. The characters all came together finally, to face Sylar. Watching them take turns seeing which of their powers was most useless against Sylar wasn’t that thrilling. With more characters on each side this season, there is potential for a great finale. I envision the episode cutting back and forth from many dramatic showdowns. The body count should be higher. No one should fly off into space or end up in feudal Japan.

Hero

2008-12-11T18:31:00.000-05:00

There was a commercial on tonight that reminded me of this classic commercial from the '90s. I remember only ever seeing it at my grandmother's house in the summer because we didn't have cable back then, and in those days this wouldn't fly on network TV.

I can't remember what the commercial was that made me think of this, because I made another discovery. Apparently, that was Ali Larter in the ad. I wonder if the guy who sprays himself and giggles is anyone now. Good resume building stuff- Crotch Spray Giggle Guy.

Slafghan!

2008-12-10T01:04:00.001-05:00

I hope you have all heard of The Slanket by now. It is a terrible idea. The Snuggy is no better. Anyone who thinks they need one of these has issues.

The Slafghan!

Gripe of the Day (GOTD)

2008-12-09T20:28:00.001-05:00

You know what really bugs me? Paper plates.

No, I am not going to get into the whole to be green or not to be green quandary (that's a different post for a different day); what annoys me about paper plates is the quantities in which they are packaged.

There are two kinds of paper plates. The pretty ones and the ugly ones. The ugly ones come in packs of 12 to 100. They are usually flimsy and so you need 100 of them because doubling-up isn't even enough to hold a plate of popcorn. You need to at least elevenses-up to make them stand up to your brunch buffet. Sure, you can get the Solo brand of plastic plates that are more sturdy, but I am not talking about plastic plates I am talking about paper ones.

Then, there are the pretty plates in pretty patterns. They are the type of paper plates you admire in the store but you never ever buy these plates because they only come in packs of 8. Maybe a pack of 12 if you are lucky. Oh, and they cost twice as much as the ugly flimsy ones in their pack of 60. And they aren't even very sturdy, so you'd probably still need to double-up. That leaves you with 4 plates that are usable.

What really bothers me about these pretty plates is I can't even imagine who'd want to buy them. What kind of event are you throwing where these plates even make sense? A salad party for 8 and you don't feel like doing dishes? I throw the kind of party where you invite a lot of people and you cannot use your regular plates because you don't have enough regular plates. And what you really want are some plates that are festive, but you can't justify spending the $6.95 per pack of 8 "designer" plates. What designer even designed these plates anyway? I don't see the Gucci logo on there. Nor do I see Prada.

Thus, you are stuck taking the white dumb looking plates and decorating them with stickers or turkey hands or nothing at all because it probably isn't safe to draw things on the plate off which you will eat, all the while thinking about the pretty patterned plates sitting on their shelf in the store of your choice as they smugly mock you.

The Joshua Tree: Over-hated

2008-12-07T15:09:00.000-05:00

As I thought about things to write in this blog, everything was negative. I may become known for being negative because I usually have more to say about something I don't like than something I do like. And when it comes to arguing, I'm better at convincing people why something sucks than why something else is awesome.

Thursday night I was at the Joshua Tree in Allston, not far from where I live with some friends from work. We settled on the J Tree because it's close, and we almost didn't go because we were afraid that at 9 p.m. it might be in "dance club mode." Because of their tendency to become a douchebaggy club on certain nights, I have heard a lot of people say "I hate the Joshua Tree."

Well, in my opinion, it's over-hated. In a lot of cases, bars get written off because of how they are on a Friday or Saturday night. The problem is that you are going on a weekend night, when all the little college kiddies are out to annoy you. The music has to change to suit their needs, it's cramped, it's busy. Pretty much a douchebomb goes off and it sucks.

The Joshua Tree on this Thursday night was actually kind of awesome.

* They have a good variety of beer without taking Budweiser or more mainstream beers off the menu to seem classier. Sometimes you want your classy beer and then your old college standby.
* The music was a little old-school that night. When "It Takes Two" by Rob Bass came on, the 24 year old was left out for not knowing all the words instead of the over 25 crowd wondering what the hell music is this? Other songs and artists included Lauryn Hill, Mary J. Blige, OPP, LL Cool J, and the Beastie Boys.
* There were several options including my two new favorite things: bleu cheese and buffalo anything. Most places have one option for Buffalo- the J Tree offers it in a burger, a dip, and a quesadilla. Their bleu cheese fries were quite good.
* It wasn't busy so the service was great and everything came quick.

This all may seem obvious-if you're like me, you think a bar is better when it's not packed with annoying people. The point is, sometimes it's the people, not the bar. Don't write off a bar entirely though if you haven't seen it on a good day.

Review- Pushing Daisies: Capturing my heart, now and forever more

2008-12-03T23:12:00.001-05:00

Just to set the record straight, I am not the sunshine and lollipops type of person (unless I am dancing around to the tune by that name in my freakishly tiny kitchen because yes, I moved out of the ‘burbs’ to spend twice as much money in my downtown apartment with no amenities). However, I love the TV program Pushing Daisies and its almost sickeningly sweet cuteness.

Why do I love this delectable series about the pie-man who can bring people back from the dead for 1 minute and 1 minute only? There are so many reasons I am unsure if I will be able to write them all here but I will certainly try because I love nothing more than making a good long list, rattling on and on like your great Aunt Betty when she hasn’t had a house guest in a while.

(1) The pie-man himself, Ned, played by Lee Pace. I love him. He is tall in an adorable way and always has that woeful expression on his face. Who doesn’t love a man who is sensitive enough to bring his childhood sweetheart back to life, never to return her to her unpleasant fate of being dead, all the while suffering because he cannot ever touch her, the one true love of his life... the tragedy of it all is enough to make even the coldest heart melt. Swoon.

(2) The Pie-Hole. Hello, clever name for a pie place. Who doesn’t wish that the Pie Hole existed in your very own neighborhood? Well, guess what you lucky Boise, Idaho readers-- Pie Hole does exist in your neighborhood! However, it is a pizza place and not a charming, mom and pop place, where you can chit and chat with the staff, and get the best slice of pie you ever had. So you still lose. Suckers.

(3) The cinematography. Is it still called cinematography when it’s just a TV show? Is what I am even talking about cinematography at all? Hmm. What I am trying to get at is that a TV show has never seen such beautiful sets, colors, and camera angles. Seriously, I could sit there and watch the show without sound on and still love it. (I would never, ever do that, because I would never want to miss out on the witty banter or Olive suddenly breaking out into song and dance, but I could and I would if I had something to prove. Don’t test me).

(4) Olive Snook. She’s a character after my very own heart. She’s got this horribly unrequited love thing going on with Ned (who doesn’t, I mean, seriously), she’s sassy, she’s as freakishly short as Ned is freakishly tall, she loves dogs, she’s not afraid of anything (except the ghost of a former jockey, but that’s another story), and she’s not afraid to make her life a musical with no forewarning or reason. If I could carry a tune, I’d love to be like Olive. Except for the fact that I’d never get to be with Ned, because to him, she’s just her Pie-Hole employee and friend. Sigh.

(5) Charlotte’s (Chuck’s) wardrobe. I have actually done research on Chuck’s character’s attire, and if it all weren’t ridiculously expensive you’d probably see me sporting all of her dresses, coats, and shoes, pretending as though that I came up with her classy ensembles on my own. However, most of her stuff is out of my particular budget, so instead I have had to come up with elaborate plots to break onto the set during filming and steal the clothing from the racks. If you see me on the news, just understand, I really love clothes. Chuck is a lucky duck, because she never wears the same thing twice. And to the naysayers who want to tell me that this ruins the accuracy of the show- how does a dead girl have the money to purchase so many adorable outfits? Well, if you do recall those plaster monkeys from the first episode were actually GOLD, so you do the math.

(6) The fact that the episode tonight ended with Olive singing Eternal Flame.

(7) The Narrator. I love narration. Always have, always will. If a novel I write eventually gets made into a movie, it better have a narrator. It’s like listening to a bedtime story with moving pictures.

(8) The warm and wholesome feeling you get while watching this show. There is something quaint about it that is lacking in all other programs on today. It’s not a reality show (not that there is anything wrong with reality TV, I’m just sick of it). The scandals are silly, but yet it is composed with heartfelt truths. Honestly, there aren’t many things on TV like it.

(9) Miscellaneous other reasons why I like this show:

The private eye, Emerson Cod, knits in his spare time. Also that his office is above a Chinese food restaurant. The details, the details.
Couer d’Couers, best fake town name ever. Has very pretty flowery fields as well.
Digby, the dog. I love golden retrievers. Also the fact that Olive ‘adopted’ a pig and named him “Pigby.”

Some might say I am obsessed with this show. Yes, it is true that I have been known to watch episodes from Season 1 over and over and over again, but that was mostly due to the fact I am too lazy to call the cable company to get cable installed and too stupid to realize I could access basic cable with my antenna. Thus I thought I was limited to CBS (the only station that didn't come in fuzzy), which is only good for an hour and a half on Monday nights and half an hour on Wednesday nights... But truly, if you can tear yourself away from The New Adventures of Old Christine (I know, it’s hard, but maybe you should invest in TiVo if you are concerned about scheduling overlaps), I strongly encourage you to add Pushing Daisies to your weekly line up. If you don’t, you will have missed out and you surely will be sorry, but I guess that’s your prerogative.

E-Disharmony

2008-12-03T22:23:00.000-05:00

Online dating is amazing. Not because I've met anyone- because I haven't, just in case you forgot that's actually against God's plan. It's amazing because I just can't get over how perfect the matches are that get delivered to me every morning, like an angel nestles them quietly in my inbox while I sleep. Which one is my favorite? I find it hard to decide.

How about the guy who described harry and voldemort's last standoff as "freakin sweet"?

Nah. Maybe the one who, under a picture of a cat on his head, said "this lady rules the roost".

Perhaps the classy gentleman who put it all out there and said his main interest in life is video games?

Or maybe it's the guy who, in listing the 3 things he is most thankful for in his entire life, listed health...education...and (drumroll please) DENTAL CARE!

I think we have a winner.

That's what she said

2008-12-03T21:19:00.000-05:00

"You could put it in the end, you just have to be delicate."

Just for Scuz

2008-12-03T12:26:00.000-05:00

Who are we?
A group of friends who want to write, think people want to hear what we have to say (though surely they don't), or just have too much time on our hands. We don't want to let work, relationships, or responsibility get in the way of what is truly important in our lives...blogging about how we're not doing anything useful with our time.

What will you find here?

Reviews- we have opinions on books, movies, restaurants, whatever. We don't have an agenda or care what anyone thinks, so you will get our honest opinion. Even if you never agree with us, you can do the opposite of what we recommend (if you're a total idiot).

Commentary- Sometimes we don't need anything specific on which to tell you our opinion. Maybe something in the news that day is ridiculous. Maybe "the damn kids these days" piss us off when they pretend they remember anything from the '80s when they were born in 1989. Occasionally, you will find us up on our high horse (or a small pony), but don't always look for sense, sometimes we just gotta rant.

Events- We'll let you know what we're up to, whether it's a race, a concert, or a fundraiser that's worth attending.

Life- we are all at that adorably directionless, fickle age: the quarter-life crisis. None of that he said, she slept with who? CW-teen drama bull you can't understand because it's disguised in incorrectly used 4 syllable words. But we don't have kids and houses and grown-up things weighing us down either, so our trials and tribulations are usually fodder for you to laugh at. Who cares about us? We do. Besides, wouldn't you rather laugh about our sad lives than over-analyze your own?

Why?
Just cuz. Just for scuz.