A Total Waste of Makeup

Peeved

2009-02-10T17:51:00.000Z

The Restaurant Refugee posted a pretty cool meme-type-thing. I've been wanting to post this semi-ridiculous pet peeve of mine for some time, and since I'm writing again (if you can call this writing) I thought I'd at least post this.

I love my WaPo Express. It entertains and educates me on my metro ride every morning. I get concise stories about what's going on in the world in an easy to digest package. I feel too smart for USA Today but don't have enough time to sit on the Metro with a print regular Washington Post - I catch it online generally. So voila. The best of both worlds in the Express, plus Poncho in Pooch Cafe, and a crossword should I be so inclined. A healthy relationship.

However. When it comes to their daily poll results, I want to scream. Everyday. Take a look.

See the heading for this section? It actually repeats the previous day's poll question and gives you the results. Pretty straightforward. Then, in the comments, since they always print three comments, they have this.

WHAT DID WE JUST READ? You have covered the question in the headline. Otherwise, we'd have absolutely no idea what this crazy little box is all about. So why, WHY, are you repeating it not two inches away from the headline? If you didn't print it superfluously after this comment, would it really change our understanding of the comment?

WOULD IT?

Damn You, Bret Michaels!

2009-02-09T16:32:00.001Z

This morning, as I checked my trusty (ha!) Bloglines, I was scanning EW's Popwatch blog and someone was talking about Radiohead's rehearsal for the Grammys. The rehearsal review was glowing. It was awesome, amazing, "keep-on-your-DVR-for-bad-days" kickass. Did I tape it? No.

I had watched a good hour and a half of the Grammys, but then stopped to pack up my laundry, head home, and watch my DVRed Rock of Love Bus. I thought, maybe I should tape the rest of the Grammys in case Radiohead performs. Then I got distracted looking at my pretty new chandelier wrangled from the Georgetown Flea Market on Sunday. Then I commenced watching Rock of Love, my sickest weekly guilty pleasure.

And this morning I find out about this earth shattering performance. I'm sorry, Radiohead. I am ashamed that I cast your live performance on a real TV only to watch Bret Michaels fuck it up six ways to Sunday on his Rock of Crazy. Yes, Bret and I have a history. A long one. But I saw the error of my ways and while I still love some Poison from time to time, your music is a necessary staple in my diet. I was even listening to one of my home brewed Radiohead mixes today in the car. I work out to your music because there's so much to listen to and concentrate on. I saw you guys three times this summer in two different states that didn't include Maryland or Virginia. Surely, this must count for something. Forgive me for my trashy TV sins.

I did catch it on YouTube, and it was indeed pretty awesome. Although I'm stumped why it was just Thom and Jonny - surely there was room for Phil, Colin, and Ed up there too? But it was great nonetheless. Excuse the poor video quality, but the audio is better on this one.

Oh, and Rock of Love Bus predictions? That cracked out box of batshit crazy Ashley will be around at the bare minimum to final three, but probably two. As much as I'd like to see Bret with Beverly, I think she'll go down somewhere in the top five, although she may flame out earlier. I also predict some sort of blow up, dramatic exit for her since she seems "stable." I'm torn between picking between Mindy and Thea in the top two. They are the two "normal" but still slutty women that always seem to make it (seriously, the preview for next week with Mindy's nude comeon to Bret is burned into my retinas in a bad, bad way). And I actually think of all the crazy bitches I've seen on this show in three seasons, Thea would be an excellent fit even if her triangles of clothing...erm...I mean outfits make me want to cry. The new girl Jamie? Kami? There's one of them that I think may end up being a contenda. That weird looking blonde one is also going down faster than Jager shots amongst those skanks.

Start Spreading the News - NYC Bound Needs Your Help!

2008-09-09T01:34:00.007Z

Get this. I already have plans for my 32nd birthday. I'm going to New York City with my BFF and we're going to see Equus. Yes, the one where Harry Potter gets naked. He's 18 - get off my back! Granted, I'll be heading home from NYC on my birthday proper, but it's the birthday weekend. And, actually this is a celebration for both my friend and I, since I'll miss her bday this year thanks to work commitments.

I love New York, just like the shirts and bags and hats and stuffed bears tell me to. I don't love New York hotel prices. Co and I usually stay with friends, but it's just not going to work out this time. I've heard that you can rent people's apartments in different cities, as a hotel alternative. I have done some preliminary searches and have found a big site, Vacation Rentals By Owners. While the places seem great, the prices are...well, pricey.

I'm hoping that you, dear readers and travelers, may have heard about this phenomenon and can point me in the right direction. Or know of a non-hostel alternative for two nights in Manhattan, early January. And I don't mean Cloisters Manhattan, I mean Midtown, the Village, Chelsea, and the like.

Anyone have any tips? Thanks in advance, kids!

Heaven Isn't Too Far Away...Well, Maybe We Passed It

2008-09-04T16:50:00.008Z

I spent most of Labor Day weekend in Virginia Beach with friends who intended to run the Rock n Roll half marathon. I went down with Elle and A to watch their son, who we have newly dubbed Baby Maki in place of "buddy" for a nickname, for a few hours while they ran. Because I don't run unless it's away from something dangerous like zombies, towards food or beer. Although my friends didn't end up running, there were still lots of Rock n Roll marathon activities throughout the weekend. We knew Billy Idol and the B-52s were headlining and sadly missed Morris Day and the Time on Friday night, but when we got there and looked at the full schedule, there was a band I was so excited to see on Saturday night:

Warrant.

Yes, that's right. Warrant. See the picture to the left, circa the good old days in the late 80s from Metal Edge - oh yes, I can still tell a Metal Edge photo. It's damn possible I had this on my wall. I was a headbanger chick in my early teenage years, but I didn't waste my time with real metal like Metallica. I went straight to the good, sticky sweet stuff: glam metal. Hair metal, glam rock, whatever. My very favorite was Poison, hands down. Bret Michaels was the hottest thing ever.* Over the 3 years or so I was into that music, I loved several other bands along the way: Bon Jovi, my first real love in that music scene; Motley Crue; Skid Row; Trixter; Warrant. I flirted a bit with Slaughter, Winger, L.A. Guns, Cinderella but Poison, Bon Jovi, and Warrant occupied the medal positions in that order.

My mother was very kind to me and let me go see most of these bands (except the ones I flirted with, never got out to them). The rule was I had to go with an adult, and of course I had to ask permission first. My mom went with me to my first show, Bon Jovi/Skid Row. My dad took me to one Poison show. Friends of the family who were music guys went with me to another Poison show and Crue, a neighbor took me to see Trixter/Warrant**. So when I saw that Warrant was going to be playing that night in VA Beach, I was so effing there.

You guys remember Warrant, right? Remember that ridiculous song "Cherry Pie"? Yeah, that was Warrant and that was their biggest hit. Personally, I'm more a fan of their first album, and song-wise my favorite is what has been dubbed their rock anthem "Down Boys" and of course, "Heaven". I always thought Heaven was their biggest hit, but after an impromptu survey and the show, I know now that it's Cherry Pie. A and I walked down the Neptune Stage on 31st Street at around 9, go carded to get beer tickets, cracked a couple of Bud Lights and waited for their set to start at 9:30. There were definitely people there, but it was no problem to find a place to stand and get a decent view.

I was so excited to get into the Way Back Machine to 1991 to see them. I told A that I'd probably be pretty confused because I didn't know who was singing for Warrant now, b/c I didn't think it'd be the original singer, Jani Lane since he'd left the band ages ago. The last time I saw him, he was drinking his way through his body weight in vodka on Celebrity Fit Club.

They came out and started playing Down Boys, and holy shit, that's Jani Lane! I smacked A's arm and told him so. I was SO EXCITED. I felt like a teenager again***. True to my teenage self, after noticing it was in fact Jani Lane, I looked for the resident hot guys in the band: Erik Turner and Jerry Dixon. Still hot. What can I say, old habits die hard for me? I'll still turn and look at a guy with long hair. Erik has his hair cut short and Jerry still has long hair, but it's not the pouffy, curlier thing happening from back in the day. And truthfully, Erik looks better now than he did before without the long hair and suspenders clipped to leather pants with no shirt. I couldn't tell if it was the original lead guitar player, Joey Allen, because I mostly knew him by his long blond hair and this dude was seriously short haired with cool eyeglasses, but the drummer was definitely the same guy (Stephen Sweet, and really, I honestly remembered all their names) - same crazy curly hair just shorter, but with the addition of Chris Cornell-like facial hair. The guys looked pretty good I had to say. See photo of Warrant now - muy improved, no? Jani had seen better days, but at first glance, he seemed better than his former Celebrity Fit Club self and I never thought he was much of a looker to begin with although he was saddled with the weight of trying to be the hot one since he was the singer.

Back to "Down Boys". Again like my teenage self, I still had absolutely no idea what they were singing about. What the hell is that song even about anyway? "One million miles an hour headed out/ to where the down boys go". What does that mean? I still don't know the answer, but I still knew all the damn words. Between me and Jani Lane, I think I knew more of the words than he did. The first verse was a little choppy, got through the chorus because that's the easy part, right? The second verse, yeah that was pretty much butchered or just wasn't sung as he interacted with he first row of people shoved up to the stage. Second chorus was way rushed, careening into a the guitar solo, and more stumbling through the last semi bridge and two choruses. Jani was all over the place, I can only assume wasted. He definitely wasn't pulling his notes like he should have been, because he used to have some decent pipes. Well, I liked his voice anyway and he was better than a lot of singers in bands out there who enjoyed more success than Warrant. I'm totally looking in Vince Neil's direction.

Maybe I should have been tipped off that this wasn't going to be the glory days of Warrant considering their merch table featured Cherry Pie tour t-shirts...from 1991. The show continued to get worse with Jani. The band was great though, but when the singer is out of it...The next hit to be played was "Heaven" which of course I recognized because Jani had his white acoustic guitar that I totally remember from the video that I have seen probably at least a thousand times. Jani told us that he wanted our help singing, and it turned into freaking Warrant karaoke. I think he let the audience sing at least half that song. Again, the notes weren't there like they should have been. I don't even know what the hell he was singing in some of the song, and I seriously know that song backwards and forwards. Later, Jani seemed to attempt to play in the guitar intro to "Uncle Tom's Cabin" and couldn't do it (not the acoustic intro, mind you. I think his head might have exploded on the spot), so he told Joey to do it. He did, because what else can you do? And because Joey can actually play the guitar. Well. Another nearly unrecognizable version of the song. You get the point.

Their encore consisted of one song. Cherry Pie. You've probably already guessed that the song wasn't that great a few nights ago. The guys were very gracious. Jani was very grateful and humble to the crowd, who were actually quite forgiving with him and his vocal "stylings" for the night. I think most of the band was pysched to get off the stage, although Erik stayed to throw out his guitar picks to the crowd. I had moved my way up to the first few rows since A had gone back to the hotel, but did not come back with any picks. Much like my teenage self.

Once I got home, I looked up some Warrant info to catch up. Apparently, the band just went back to its original line up after 14 years or something. Mind you, I stopped listening to Warrant regularly only 16 years ago. They did one of their first reunion shows in Vegas over the summer, where the crowd was not so forgiving. Jani made a pigs ear of that performance and people asked for their money back.

It was awesome. It was terrible. It was awesomely bad. But I still loved it. Looking back, we had to know that kind of music had a limited shelf life. I still listen to it from time to time, though. And more Warrant songs have found their way onto my mixes than Poison songs, so I'm really glad I got to see them again and relive some of my youth. Even if it was a bit sad but I'm very glad I was too young to get sucked into the hair metal culture fully. I'm totally okay with never being on a tour bus or covered with tattoos of defunct or dysfunctional glam bands. I guess Cinderella had it right all this time, as Warrant has learned the hard way, playing their free show in VA Beach with a wasted lead singer. You don't know what you got till it's gone.

*As I've said before on this blog, when I was 13 I thought Bret Michaels was the hottest thing ever. Now, Bret is 44 and has a tv show where 10s of women think the same thing and take off articles of clothing as often as possible to show their "love" for him. Add like 100 to that number, and that was a Tuesday for Bret in 1989.

**I think it was Trixter and Warrant. I know I've seen both of them, but I couldn't tell you who they supported, but I'm pretty sure the show I went to was after Warrant and Poison broke up on tour in 1991, then Warrant went on to headline later in the year.

***Seems to be happening a lot this year, no?

And If You're Frightened, You Can Be Frightened, You Can Be, That's OK

2008-08-20T02:08:00.009Z

We are bombarded with images, sounds, words, etc. everyday. Many of them are frightening in this day and age. Since I can't be accused of being awfully serious on this little blog, here are a few things I've seen over the last couple of days that scare the bejesus out of me.

WTF? Michael Phelps, while an extraordinarily talented athlete and now the most decorated Olympian of all time, is not the most attractive man. He has an AMAZING body however, if you like the swimmer's build (I think most women do). But he is what you'd call the male version of a butterface. The infinite genuises over at Sports Illustrated decide to do this to him. Make him look like a very confused young man trying out a new, blingy halter top who hasn't decided if he's going to throw on a pair of pants today.

Hardly newsworthy, but seriously, how much work did Meg Ryan get done? And how bad does the trailer for her new movie, The Women, look? After Sex and the City had such a huge bow at the box office, is this what Hollywood thinks women want? May I remind Hollywood the last time they made a movie with "what women want" in the title it featured Mel "Sugar Tits" Gibson parading around in pantyhouse, after waxing and painting his nails in an attempt to connect to the female spirit. Meg Ryan seems to think that "The Women" want botox and collagen. I'm scared either way.

I am not a fan of Playboy. Not because there are hotter woman than myself shaking what God gave them "artfully" for a camera, but more because of the slut culture it's helped produce as of late. I don't see them as often anymore, but a year or so ago, there were far too many junior sized t-shirts, trucker hats, and stupid necklaces featuring the Playboy bunny logo for young girls. I'm not saying we need to lease them power suits and Crackberries either, but I hate it. And then these dumb Playboy girls get a show? Granted, everyone gets a show. If I could convince E! or Bravo that my dog is gender confused (she's not, though, for the record), I may be able to get a show. But folks, seriously, stop showing this dumb girl. This is the most ridiculous picture not ONLY because of those glasses (are you Kanye? And even still, Kanye looks dumb in them, but at least he's PERFORMING.), but because of her face and just all around ridiculousness (hello Lauren Conrad in 10 years and after a bad dye job, bad manicure, and a graffiti artist attacking your sweatshirt). Even on Perez, why is she news? Does anyone care? I'm convinced that Hef pays the bills on the Girls Next Door, and that's why it's still on the air. Or there are a lot more men who watch E! than previously admitted.

I'm not a huge fan of Kathy Griffin. I don't particularly dislike her either. Entertainment Weekly had an interesting article about her awhile back, talking about her contraversy, how hard she works and how she's gotten to where she is. Speaking of incredibly dumb shows, her's may be worse than the Girls Next Door (but definitely better than Pam Anderson's show, which I had the misfortune of catching a few minutes of). She wouldn't stop saying Steve Wozniak. He was teaching her to ride a Segway and she kept saying, "Don't let me fall, Steve Wozniak." "I'm going to die, Steve Wozniak." "Woz loves the Big Boy." Griffin had "company meetings" that consisted of 4 other people plus herself, and I believe one of them was to perpetrate a plan to get her friend Rachel True (remember her from The Craft?) set up with one of the Woz' geeky, rich friends. Griffin continued having this useless meetings. That she employs a staff is frightening to me. Her face frightens me for that matter. The fact that someone who CAN be funny has such an awful show, and makes money off it, is truly frightening.

Oh, and anyone who wants a glimpse into the "future", click on the comments of Perez Hilton, make like the man who killed Inigo Montoya's father, and prepare to die.

Harry Potter Becomes Warner Brothers' Red Headed Stepchild, Batman Promoted to Prodigal Son - New HP Movie to be Released 7/2009

2008-08-15T18:50:00.005Z

Can you hear that? That's the sound of gnashing and wailing by Harry Potter fans worldwide.

Last night, as my BFF were hanging out, I got on the computer to check my trusty Bloglines. I clicked on the Entertainment Weekly Hollywood Insider Blog and saw the startling headline: NEWS FLASH: 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' Bumped to Summer 2009. Like the Potter-phile that I am I said no, no, no like a crazy person hoping it was a joke. Alas, it was not.

Wanna know why? Here's what the press release says:

“[L]ike every other studio, we are still feeling the repercussions of the writers’ strike, which impacted the readiness of scripts for other films—changing the competitive landscape for 2009 and offering new windows of opportunity that we wanted to take advantage of. We agreed the best strategy was to move Half-Blood Prince to July, where it perfectly fills the gap for a major tent pole release for mid-summer.”

Translation: Warner Brothers has made enough money this year thanks to the overwhelming success of the Dark Knight and would rather spread the wealth.

I'm sorry, but is there such as a thing as making TOO MUCH money in one year? Would it really hurt them that much in 2009 to have only one potential blockbuster in Terminator 4: Salvation? I can hear studio execs' hearts stopping with that blasphemy. I know that Hollywood revolves around the almighty dollar. I do. However, this seems pretty low even to my cynical senses.

People are PISSED, to say the least. A petition has been championed (over 10,000 signatures at 2 pm): http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/harrypotter6. From the comments section of the Hollywood Insider post breaking the bad news:

This is more than agravating! But let us not just complain on these comment sites. LET YOUR VOICES BE HEARD! I am asking everyone to send an email to Warner Bros Feature Film department and Rattle Alan F. Horn the guy responsible for pushing the film to next year.

My 8 year old daughter actually cried when we told her this movie wasn't coming out until next summer instead of the fall. She has been looking forward to this for a year!

This is the worst movie news I've heard in a long time. Way to get more people to see the movie. Now no one will go.

BOYCOTT ALL WB MOVIES. . .AND IF YOU HAVE SEEN THE DARK DONT WATCH IT AGAIN...HIT THEM WERE IT HURTS. . .THE POCKET!

THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!! I was getting so excited that I only had to wait 3 more months for the movie but NOW I have to wait 11!!! Harry Potter has almost always come out in November around my birthday. I AM OUTRAGED!!!!!!!!!

That's just a taste. While I think it's pretty shitty of the studio to do, there are still a few problems with the outrage and the proposed "solutions":

1. Warner Brothers, much less Alan Horn (does anyone else think of the actor from Entourage when you hear that name?), doesn't give a shit what movie audiences want, when it comes right down to it. They know they have gold on their hands and people will see it no matter what. I mean really. People who are going nuts over this will NOT boycott the movie. They're nuts BECAUSE they love it so much...so they're going to boycott? Yeah, it doesn't work like that.

2. How many people who go to the movies really know what studio is releasing what? Unless you read the trade mags, the trade mag for Dummies like EW, etc? Go out on the street right now and ask 100 people what studio put out The Dark Knight and you'll get at least 80 people without any idea, they just go to the movies and don't realize when you see the screenshot of a studio lot shimmer, it's going to morph into the Warner Brothers logo.

3. We don't live in the golden era of the cinema anymore. See number one - the studios don't give a rat's ass who they piss off because they have something people will always want: entertainment. Anyone remember the writer's strike?

4. Harry Potter fans aren't doing themselves any favors by posting some of this comment drivel.

Slightly unrelated, some moron also posted that maybe WB is scared that Twilight will outperform HP two weeks later...um, no. I loves me my Twilight as we all know, but we aren't even in the same species here folks (no pun intended). Some Twilighters already make themselves look ridiculous, so don't make it worse for yourselves, mmkay?

Like I said, this news pisses me off too because I was absolutely looking forward to the new movie, like I always do since I'm a card carrying member of the HP and movie clubs. I also wonder what it means to the people who busted their asses to get this movie ready for a November 2008 release, which I think is very uncool. I hate that Warners can do this. My not-so-cynical-side would love to see such a huge stink created over this that WB would have to backtrack, but again - they don't have to. People are going to see it anyway. The percentage of "business" they'll lose from this will be very small, which is unfortunate, but true. Even if I were to be one of the boycotters, I couldn't give up my EW (owned by Time Warner). It's not as simple as saying, "I won't see this movie."

I did just read that Warners pissed off the wrong dork by pressuring Harry Knowles of Ain't it Cool to remove bad reviews of the new Star Wars animated movie. And now they've pissed off Harry Potter fans. I'd love to see them have to eat their hats, but I'm not holding my breath.

Eff you, Alan Horn and Warner Brothers. This dork writing this blog has a more boring November to not look forward to. But now I have more time to re-read the series for the 4th time.

Goody Two Shoes

2008-08-05T19:32:00.004Z

I have always hated preppy clothes. I was in junior high at the height of prep - anyone remember Britches Great Outdoors? I definitely remember warthog socks. And the fugly rugby shirts (fugby shirts?) that EVERYone wore. The "cool" girls wore their pink and blue or similarly girly $40 rugbys with the fronts tucked in and the backs out and their Keds with warthog socks over their jeans. So fucking cool. So cool in fact that there are no pictures to be found of those trends of yore. It may have been a local thing too, indiginous to the wilds of Montgomery County.

I hated that stuff. I wanted to be the rocker chick, and I tried with my black denim jacket and my stylin' boots and general too cool for school all black apparel. Then in high school in 1991, came the grunge and out came the flannels. I remember my first pair of really cool shoes (in my innocent, sparkling eyes): black, 7 hole Doc Martens. I remember the blisters they gave me for the first few days. But I was determined to be as cool as possible and I suffered through, then they became comfortable and awesome.

In general, I hate trends that everyone picks up on. I can't say I've never fallen victim to trends and I certainly can't say that everything in my closet or on my bookshelf or whatever is totally original because only me and 4 other people in the continental US have them. The Doc Martens example above proving my point. But I hate crap that everyone has just for the sake of having it.

Exhibit A - Louis Vuitton. Seriously some of the ugliest bags I've ever seen. Some of the shapes are kinda cool (thanks, Marc Jacobs) but the brown and camel LV pattern makes me wanna yak.

Exhibit B - Juicy Couture. Really, ladies? Couture means pink and ribbons and bows and plaid and terrycloth and charms with Juicy screaming all over it and all mixed up into one for the bargain price of $145 for a bag that would fit my wallet, cell phone, and maybe my metro card? Well done, girls. That definitely says high fashion. But holy hell, I love this bag. Now I have to go bathe in alcohol.

Et cetera.

The latest trend that I've decided chaps my ass comes in the form of preppy-ish shoes. They strike me as preppy, but maybe it's just the girls I see wearing them. I see a pair at least once a day. I did a quick Google search for "leather flip flops 3 chain links" and only a few links down do I see the magic words: Steve Madden. Is Madden still cool? Target filches his designs every year I've noticed, when I've been forced past the SM store with the scary cartoonish girls in his ads. But he's not quite the household name anymore, or maybe that's just in my demographic. I'm also decidedly not a shoe girl, although I feel qualified to pass judgment on footwear often.

However, I guess Mr. Madden's still got it because apparently a quarter to roughly half of the 20 something girls in DC own some iteration of this shoe.

Come on, girls. That's like a MILLIMETER of leather between you and the streets of DC. Or Virginia. Or God forbid, Maryland. And the 3 chain links? Does not make the flip flops "classy." THEY ARE STILL FLIP FLOPS. And white? Because it's so clean here in the summer? I know we're not Bejing, but come on. And the $50 price tag does not make these things any nicer either. I will say that the cognac leather is quite pretty and I would almost forgive those. Except I've never seen anyone wearing that color.

Their official name is Steve Madden Women's Sannibel Flip-Flop Sandal. Again, this name does NOT MAKE THE SHOE ANY CLASSIER. They are still flip flops. Just because you secure some plastic "jewels" or stick a heel on a leather flip flop it does not make it appropriate for work. Some of the plastic jeweled ones just look like your 4 year old niece went nuts with a Bedazzler for feet and the flip flops with heels? When you don't wear them with long pants, and/or wear them to work (again, this doesn't make them FANCY or PROFESSIONAL), there's an unfortunate side effect. They make you look like you have the feet of goats. Or other cloven footed animals. Seriously.

Oh, and while I'm hurling insults at the feet of DC women, I'll also say this. Whoever told you that neon pink, and sometimes orange, a la the 80s is a nice nail polish color...that person is not your friend. This color does not look good. Get thee to Ulta or CVS and find something else that would not make Cyndi Lauper ask you where she could score a bottle for the remake of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - the video OR the movie.

If I still had Doc Martens, I'd want to kick some sense into you.

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things

2008-07-31T03:30:00.002Z

Whenever I used to say, "I wish it was Friday" or similar around my stepfather he would always say, "You're wishing away time." At first I thought that was BS, but as I've gotten older I agree with it. I shouldn't wish the days of my life away (with some exceptions), just for the sake of getting to sleep in the next day. However, this hasn't stopped me from saying "one more day" to myself on Thursday morning when I'm dragging my ass out of bed.

We all know how quickly time passes. I always remember a passage in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire where JK Rowling described time passing sometimes slowly when you were excited about something and then galloping at great speed towards an event Harry was dreading. Every year I am amazed at how quickly Christmas seems to come - and then my birthday which puts me further into my 30s. Stupid time. But actually, there are several things over course of the next few days, weeks, and months that I'm wicked excited about and therefore, warrants a blog post because inquiring minds want to know.

August 2 - Midnight release of Breaking Dawn
Remember how I talked about my love of Twilight a couple months ago? By now, most of you should have heard about this crazy little I-heart-a-teenage-vampire series and not just because I wrote about it, but because it has reached fever pitch between the movie marketing (what's up, crazy peeps at Comic Con?) and the last book (most Twilight sites shut down their comments for the last two weeks so people won't post spoilers). The fourth and final book of the saga is being released. At midnight. Amongst Breaking Dawn parties at bookstores across the country. I'll be at one with a friend, and although I'm not participating in the theme of the evening, I am firmly on Team Edward and will tell anyone who asks. I won't get a tattoo though. Unless it's removable.

2. August 12 - Radiohead show #3
And more important, my BFF Co will come spend the week with me in the fair Metro DC area. We're hauling it up to NJ for the night, because let's face it. It takes the same amount of time to get in and out of Nissan Pavillion than it does to cross a couple of state lines.

3. End of August - Vacation
The beach. Nothing to do. Nothing else to say.

4. September 14 - New Season of Entourage
This is my most favorite-st show. I'd like to say that it beats out Lost, but I think they're so different so there's no comparison. I've already re-watched seasons 1-3 in about 12 days a couple of weeks ago. Why HBO hasn't released season 4 on DVD, I don't know. Helloooo? People will BUY IT. Anyway, can't wait to see what Vince and the boys get into this season even though the way they talk about women scares the bejesus out of me. The big 'ole crush I have on Adrian Grenier helps though.

5. November 21 - Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
The trailer just dropped this morning (thanks Co for the text this morning as it wasn't on my muggle radar) and I LOVE IT. It's very different than any other HP trailer. I've questioned the recasting of Dumbledore the last two movies for two specific moments: in Goblet of Fire, after Harry's name has been drawn out of the Goblet, Dumbledore grabs him and bends him backwards over a table demanding to know if he put his name in. Dumbledore would never do that. Then in Order of the Phoenix, after he's told that Professor Trelawney she can stay and all the students are still watching the spectacle he says, "Don't you have studying to do?" and stomps off. WTF? I know they are two small things, but that's just it. Two small things they could have easily made more Dumbledore-ian. This is what I want to do in another life - make movies from books and actually stay true to them. Anyway, this trailer looks more promising for Dumbledore.

6. December 12 - Twilight
The movie drops. We've already gotten two trailers, too much behind the scenes footage (seriously, you've practically seen the whole movie), a ton of coverage and even more screaming girls and women. I'm a little nervous the movie won't live up to what's in my head, but still. It's Robert Pattinson. I mean, erm, it's Twilight. WITH Rob Pattinson.

So yeah, these are the things I'm excited about. Now that I've written it all out, I don't wonder why I haven't been on a date in months. Maybe the Radiohead show scores me cool points...how about loving Entourage? Anyone? Ah yes, there goes my phone now...

In Rainbows: Two Nights with Radiohead

2008-05-27T15:14:00.002Z

Remember that weekend I recently went to the Chili Cook Off and bitched up a storm about it? How I said my festival concert days were over? Well, they are. I think. But the very next weekend I packed my cookies and headed to the great state of Texas to see my BFF and one of our favorite bands Radiohead. Not exactly a festival, but still the thousands-of-people-with-$8-beer-carts-and-general-concert-madness. But, this was Radiohead.

Co, the aforementioned BFF, has said that if you don't know who Radiohead is - wake up! I'm sure most people of a certain age, and probably just about everyone reading this blog have heard of them. I firmly believe that you either get Radiohead or you don't. Liking Creep doesn't mean you get them. It's an incredible song and it should be sung with gusto (or played with gusto, if you have Rock Band), but liking their major US single, along with Karma Police doesn't put you in the 'getting it' category. I don't mean to say that with any kind of snobbery, it's just that those particular singles aren't indicative of their body of work. Let me take you back.

I used to be that person. I knew Creep, Karma Police, High and Dry and...well, that was probably about it. Co was turned onto Radiohead by a really big Radiohead fan about 5-6 years ago. She dug them. She turned me onto them because after a couple of listens to their second album, The Bends, I was hooked. I had heard, without much listening, their first album, Pablo Honey, and then their subsequent albums which just got plain weird, on some levels: Kid A, OK Computer, Amnesiac. I didn't get Radiohead. I got some of them, but not the whole package and how they push the envelope and really, really love the music they produce. It was mostly pretty weird to me. Then Hail to the Thief hit, and I was hooked again even though there certainly weren't any radio ready songs, although There There got some play. Co joined their free fan club, WASTE, and got tickets for us to go their show at Merriweather in 2003, and then again in Houston, a few hours from where she was going to school.

WASTE was kind to us. They gave us fourth row center seats to the Merriweather show. I'd never been that close to a rock concert in my life. I knew The Bends inside and out, and was pretty familiar with Hail to the Thief. Off to the show we went. Besides being stunned by our view (the tall, dark and handsome Brit playing guitar/singing/orchestrating on the left side of the stage, Ed O'Brien, helped a bit too), I literally watched and listened to the show open mouthed in awe. One of the "weird" things about some of their previous albums to me was all the strange sounds and computer/digital manipulation (National Anthem), the way songs would start slow then rip into something kind of crazy then mellow out again into a gorgeous third act of the song(Paranoid Android), pseudo-electronica (Idioteque)...just generally songs that didn't follow a pattern. It was hard for me to find the hook to latch onto, pun intended. Most of the music I listen to is pretty straightforward. It may be varied, but straightforward. I also wondered how in the world they would recreate those things live.

Well, kids. They recreated them perfectly. The coolest thing about the Hail to the Thief tour was the way they ended the show with Everything in its Right Place. The guitarists (aforementioned tall drink of British water) Ed and Jonny Greenwood have all kinds of pedals and sound boards and sound thingamabobs at their fingertips and would do their thing during certain songs. During Everthing... Jonny and Ed captured and remixed the song - they don't even play their guitars. Each band member walked off the stage one by one, but the music they had been playing was still going, thanks to the magic machines. It sounds like a weird explanation and the die hard Radiohead fans are probably rolling their eyes at my stupidity (click here for a video from the Glastonbury festival to see it in action, fast forward to around the 4 minute mark or so to see them start leaving), but it's how I remember it and it's what made me GET Radiohead.

Fast forward over the years, The Bends and Hail to the Thief were still on the heaviest rotation, but there were songs from the interim albums that I found loving more and more because of the show like Everything in its Right Place, Idioteque, You and Whose Army. Songs that were just simply hauntingly beautiful like How to Disappear Completely and Optimistic. Co remained the hardcore fan out of the two of us. As she knows because I ask her song names constantly, I'm crap with Radiohead song names. I'm getting better, but she's the one who knows their entire library inside and out. In Rainbows came out and I didn't get it, once again. There were a couple of songs that I liked immediately, but it wasn't something I listened to a lot. I can't say I wasn't excited to see them again for two shows, after 5 years, but I wasn't dying to hear the new stuff either.

It all changed, once again, once the first notes of 15 Step were played in Houston, the first show. Again, I stood there with my earplugs (it really is a better listening experience, although there are drawbacks too like being able to hear the people around you sing along) with my mouth open, knowing more lyrics and just in awe of such an amazing show. I found myself closing my eyes and listening because it's so amazing. Co said she did the same thing and forced herself to open up because it wasn't everyday we got to see them. Dallas was another great show, but they changed the setlists quite a bit, so they really were two different experiences.

Our seats were also very different this year. WASTE was not as kind to us. We were closer in Houston, but way off to the side. In Dallas, we could see the very cool screen behind the stage at this show (click on any of the linked song titles for a bit of show and to see the screens), although we were further towards the middle and we were on a main aisle where all hell broke loose around us.

I remember the fans during the 2003 shows being very respectful and obviously ridiculously stoked to see Radiohead. When you meet a Radiohead fan who gets it, hold tight. It usually requires a 'buying in' of sorts to their body of work, the huge jumps between different songs, different sounds, poetic bordering on nonsensical lyrics, the band's devotion to putting everything into their music no matter how it's perceived. However, in Houston, there were allllll kinds of people. I don't expect to see someone waving their beer or flashing the devil horns/long horn hands at the stage...at Radiohead. But there she was! Or the hippie chick who knew every single word to every single song but looked like she had channeled dancers from Woodstock as she did her crazy thing in the aisle for the entire show. She even had a weird hippie version of the robot. That chick must have burned like 500 calories, easy. She also may have involuntarily committed herself to a mental institution. It's 50/50. Then there was just general pushing and shoving and standing in front of people. Some bad behavior in Dallas, unfortunately, as well as very poorly organized concert logistics. Which made me remember why I don't go to very many shows anymore.

But this was Radiohead. I will make it a point not to miss their tours, since I've been fortunate enough to go to two shows each from their last two big tours. It's something Co and I love to do, and we love to experience it together. The bitterness of the crowd and venue experience in Dallas has faded and it's just the great music and show that remains. The pictures of course don't do anything justice, but since it was beautiful all around, I couldn't help but take them and surround this post In Rainbows.

Videos are from the Dallas show, taken by a fans in the pit or just generally a whole lot closer than us.

Fake it if You Don't Belong: 2008 Chili Cook Off

2008-05-13T02:42:00.002Z

Alternate titles for this post: My Last Chili Cookoff and Things I'm Too Old For.

Several weeks ago, I listened to Elliott, of Elliott in the Morning, rattle off the bands for DC101's Chili Cookoff. When he was finished, I was mildly impressed. They were decent bands: Chevelle, Finger 11, Seether, Live, and Stain'd. And one of them was one of my favorites who I hadn't seen in a few years (Live). I get to work that day and my trusty friend and colleague J, who also listens to DC101, had the same thought as I did. She wanted to go. I looked at her skeptically.

I said I was too old to do festival shows anymore. When Arjewtino asked me if I was going to Shamrock earlier this year, that's exactly what I said to him along with the fact I knew one or two of the million bands playing. Also a sign that I'd gotten too old for it. But J was persistent and I agreed, because I thought it could be fun. Surely I wasn't so old, was I?

We were monitoring the weather and as late as Thursday when the forecast was for sunny skies and 70s. Friday arrives. Rain. Shit. I told her that if it was raining, I may be rethinking it. I shared this with my roommate who insisted I "just go and have FUN!" I narrowed my eyes at her and said I was well past the age to stand in the rain to listen to music and enjoy myself. I shared this with Elle and she said she didn't think she was ever that age that she would enjoy standing in the rain. I'm feeling better about my rain proclaimation.

Thankfully, the weather held. Even if it hadn't, that wouldn't have been the worst part of the day. J and I took the metro and exited at Metro Center at about 12:45 pm. Chevelle was due to come onstage at 1:25, I think we're good to go. How wrong I was.

The Chili Cookoff is held in the block that used to house the old DC Convention Center, the block bounded by H Street, 9th and 11th Streets, and New York Ave. Pretty decent sized block, right? These bozos had ONE entrance on New York Ave. The line wrapped literally around the entire block. By the time we got to the other side of the block on New York Avenue, a second line had formed. We stood. We listened to Chevelle start at 1:25. Chevelle finished their set, and we were still in line (exhibit A, to the left). By the time we got to the clusterfuck entrance (exhibit B, next photo), some event person decides to tell us they opened up a new entrance over by the Renaissance about an HOUR AGO and there was no wait. A quick look behind us, and sure enough, no line after about 20 people (at least 10 people wide though). Fan-fucking-tastic. A million genius points to you, show organizers.

J and I finally get in after being: 1, carded, 2, "searched" where the lady barely looked in my bag. I could have had a grenade or a small dog in there and she would have had no idea, 3, literally flashed our ticket. We're in! This is barely half the battle. Finger 11 has now started playing. Come to find out the geniuses organizing the event have it arranged so you must buy TICKETS to get beer. A buck a ticket. Guess how long that line is? I sent J to get in the beer line, and I got a little creative getting in "line" for the tickets. I was surrounded by "men" having important and existential conversations that went like, "Beers are $7? I need to get 10 beers, how much is that...." "Dude, I need like a HUNDRED." "A hundred tickets or a hundred bucks?"

I get past these tools and ask for my 50 tickets (J and I combined, thanksverymuch). You'd think these folks would be pulling tickets neat-like off a little ream like we see at the fair. Nope. They're sipping a beer with one hand and then with the other, digging into a big rubbermaid like buckets and pulling out fistfuls of tickets and COUNTING THEM MANUALLY. However, I managed to be sent on my way with 8 extra tickets. Onto J in the beer line.

That line was moving, at least. We had to whip out our IDs again and flash them, neither of us thinking for a minute the "security guard" could tell us how old we were after looking at our IDs. We get to the beer soaked tables, asking for two Bud Lights each (when in low-class Rome...). We handed over our tickets, that totally weren't counted and went on our merry way. We sat and I whipped out a much needed cigarette, drank our first beers in record time. This would be a good time to whip out some Finger 11 lyrics to sum up our time so far:

I hold on so nervously
To me and my drink
I wish it was cooling me
But so far, has not been good
It’s been shitty
And I feel
awkward, as I should
Why nervously? Would you trust your beer around that many idiots? Why would I feel awkward, you ask? Exhibit A. You may not be able to tell from my crappy cameraphone, but those girls are wearing HOMEMADE Chili Cookoff genuine hoochie shirts. One was tie dyed. All were cut up and had beads on them. I saw more men with their shirts off who should never TAKE their shirts off than I cared to. I saw 80s haircuts. I heard very bad accents.

Pop quiz - at what age does it stop being appropriate to wear short shorts/hot pants?

That's a trick question as THERE IS NEVER AN APPROPRIATE AGE FOR THAT.

I also wonder what makes some girls think flip flops are good to wear to a festival of 15,000+ people. In a parking lot. With port-a-johns. And general drunken craziness. I saw some of those same girls with all kinds of nasty up and down their bare legs and feet when emerging from the port-a-johns (provided they didn't get in a fight with someone over getting INTO said port-a-john). That's thinking ahead, ladies. Enjoy your ebola virus.

I will say that after the dust settled, J and I had a good time and we really enjoyed the bands. My gorgeous J scored a date at the show, and I was her faithful wingwoman, talking to her date's friend who was like the human broken record. He was Central American but grew up on the West coast and had these things to say. In this order, then repeat them:

Barcelona is the best. I met a girl from Moscow there who invited me to go to Moscow and it was the best.

I'm dating a girl from the Czech Republic, she looooves Hispanic guys.

I haven't dated a Spanish girl in 10 years, I like Europeans.

I took my dad to Munich and it was the best time ever.

I've been to London, Amsterdam, Milan, {insert European city here}.

Lather. Rinse. ZIP IT!

But overall? It was just a huge, giant, stupid, clusterfuck. I never stood in a line for ANYthing less than 20 people. On Monday morning, Elliott acknowledged the lines were an issue and that it was being "addressed", but it didn't make me feel better. I considered leaving a few times on Saturday, but I couldn't abandon my ticket price (and $10 in ticket fees to TicketBastard.com) or J. I thought about trying to get my money back from DC101, but there's just no way in hell that will ever happen. While I'll write angry letters to places of business, I'm not so old that I'll try to get my money back from DC101 because that is a true exercise in futility and they won't miss me at subsequent cookoffs. I even thought about not listening to Elliott in the Morning anymore, but they're firmly a part of my wake up routine, sadly.

All of it just reinforced that I am now too old and far, far too bitchy for stuff like that anymore.

RIP, Chili Cookoff. RIP the young me who can hang at festivals! Time to go catch the early bird special. Hey, is that a baked potato?

Why Must I Be a Teenager in Love?

2008-05-06T14:11:00.002Z

Everyone has dirty little secrets. I’m not talking about a fetish for leather or something. Dirty little secrets like “I like Vin Diesel movies.” I do not, it’s just an example, kids. However, I will admit to watching (and enjoying) American Idol this season despite my attempt to break up with it last year. Liking the odd Fall Out Boy or Panic! At the Disco song. My latest one brings out the lovesick, romantic young teenage self in me. Back when I thought I would have a boyfriend who would actually write me poetry and totally get my angst ridden, misunderstood heart. That teenage self melts all over again for the Twilight series, by Stephenie Meyer.

A little background. A few of my friends unanimously raved about the books. Well, they actually said they were totally addicting. These women are some of the coolest and smartest women I know, and partners in literary crime as they are big readers themselves (the others can out themselves in the comments in case they want to keep these as their own dirty little secrets; the two I linked to already outed themselves!). Their goodreads.com shelves awe and shame me from time to time, and my to-read list is always growing thanks to them. A few of my books are currently loaned out to them and vice versa. You get the picture.

So one Saturday, I set out to Barnes and Noble with my birthday gift cards, thinking I’d try Twilight. I’d heard something about vampires, and I dig fantasy stuff on occasion. I go to the information kiosk since B&N seems to enjoy putting the books that I'm looking for out on special tables and I wander around aimlessly.

Me: Hi, I’m looking for a book called Twilight, fiction?
Her: By Stephenie Meyer?
Me: That sounds right.
(Looks on the computer) Her: It’s upstairs…
Me: Cool, so it's up in the sci-fi/fantasy section?
Her: No, it’s in young adult section. I’ll show you.

Oh.

Young adult? Hmmm...I don’t remember that being mentioned in the raves amongst friends. Maybe I should have been tipped off when I looked up the book on B&N.com and there were several comments beginning with “OMGGGGGGG” and “This is my favorite book ever!!!!!!!” Down the rabbit hole I go, or up the escalator as it was, and the nice lady picks the book up off the Young Adult table and hands it to me. I thank her and go on my way.
It wouldn’t be until Thursday that I would start the book. A week from that Thursday? I was three quarters of the way through the third book. A week after the first Saturday, I returned to the place where I get my drugs...erm...books, I picked up New Moon at Barnes and Noble, asking if it was in paperback yet. The B&N man told me it was coming out in May, would I like to pre-order it? Noooooo, I said, clutching the hardcover. I picked up Eclipse an hour later at Target (where they are way cheap, FYI). Totally. Hooked.

Short synopsis for the uninitiated: Bella Swan moves to a small town. Bella meets an impossibly beautiful and mysterious boy, Edward Cullen. They are of course immediately attracted to each other, and even fall in love. There’s a catch though: he’s a vampire.

It was so nice to read a book where I didn’t have to think very hard. And I don’t mean that as an insult to the book because while it’s not poet laureate caliber reading, it was not a stupid book (although the author has a tendency to overuse phrases, to the point where I thought about counting how many times she said ‘my favorite crooked smile’ or ‘his/her eyebrows pulled together’). It just wasn’t completely intricate and didn’t make me constantly turn back to previous pages to get the story straight, and I never read a page without processing what I had just read. Since I’ve mostly given up on chick-lit, this was great. Although it definitely had some chick-lit elements to it, but more on that in an upcoming post. It was also great to time travel back to being 13 years old for a short while when you actually believed all that true love stuff could really happen. Although probably not with vampires.

Since finishing the third book I decided to take a closer look at Twilight fan sites to get more info about the movie, read interviews (I read one before finishing and had something small spoiled), all that. Oh my, are there a lot of Twilight fans. No really. A LOT of Twilighters, as many of them call themselves. They have their own catch phrases like Holy Cullens. Not surprisingly, the majority of the fans are teenagers. Although in my digging over the last couple of weeks, I have discovered Twilight Moms, a forum where you must either be at least one of the following: 25 and older, married, or have kids. I also found a very popular website that produces a podcast series by women in their 20s. I also just read (on the aforementioned podcast site) that there is a guy starting an I’m a Guy who Hearts Twilight blog shortly too.

Girls, boys, men, and women are in love with Bella and Edward and the Cullens and Jacob Black and just…well, all of it. Down the rabbit hole all of us go. Why? They’re borderline adventure books as in, how will we get out of THIS tight spot and they're fantastical. But Meyer doesn’t focus too much on the battle, even though we all want to know how they will get out of it. She instead goes for the heartstrings. At least half to three quarters of Twilight is dedicated to Edward and Bella talking about their feelings for each other. Oh, how their love is naïve and beautiful and all encompassing. There was a time when I thought that could really happen (again, not with vampires). Then to set it into a quasi-mythical world – vampires! Vampires with ethics! Werewolves! True love! It’s like junk food for the brain and a little for the heart, as Jess and I described it once. It’s nice to get back into those old Doc Martens and flannel shirts of my teenage years and think of dreamy boys falling totally and unbelievably in love with the girl next door.

They say admitting your addiction is the first step, right? Well, hold on to your knickers. In case you wanted more, there will be a movie in December. A super buzzed about movie - even MTV movies has an official page for Twilight the movie updates and Twilight Tuesdays (which is further evidence that I am *cough*slightly*cough* above the target age range since I officially outgrew MTV a few years ago). And guess who plays the super dreamy vampire hero du jour? Robert Pattinson, who you might know as Cedric Diggory from the movie for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He’s a perfect Edward Cullen because he’s so hot. And so very pale. And kind of smoldering, as I imagine all good vampires are. See? There’s a picture. And yes, I realize I have firmly placed myself in the dirty old woman category, but I don’t seem to care. He’s 22, so get off my back! I'm even going to embed the newly released trailer at the end of the post because...well, I'm a big dork.

See? There’s just no beating down the romantical teenager in me sometimes. She had mostly given up, after having only a diet of cynicism for so long. Now she is rejoicing in her stretchy pants after indulging in the high calorie, un-nutricious gooey love goodness of Twilight. For any of you who may want to feed that teenager in you, I say go for it. Join us. It’s delicious.

PSA to Washingtonians in Springtime

2008-04-18T20:31:00.004Z

It's that time of the year...The weather is warmer. The sun is shining. More hours of daylight. Even the cherry blossoms are being replaced with new green leaves.

And the biggest fashion atrocities and various other faux paus rear their ugly heads. And feet. And asses.

Last night, while going up the escalator at Filene's, there was a girl a few steps in front of me clutching the hem on the back of her skirt to her legs. I thought, "Wow. So there ARE actually women who are aware that when they're on an escalator and wear a skirt, the further up they travel, the more people below them can SEE THEIR ASSES."

I saw two asses unwillingly this morning. Seriously, ladies? One, you can't seem to find anything else in your closet that comes a little lower than the just-covering-your-ass-cheeks level? 15 years old, you are not. And two, have you never been on an escalator and can't work out how this can feasibly occur? Or maybe you just want to give random strangers thrills. If that's the case, then well done. If not, then don't assume you are Mariah Carey and cover it up.

This is also the time of year where the temperature fluctuates a bit. We'll have a few cooler days that requires a light coat to jacket, or maybe just a sweater. Then we'll jump into 75 degrees.

Watch the weather report, people. Don't have a TV? Then surely you have access to the internet. Or a newspaper. If you have a TV, just flip to the Weather Channel to be prepared. Just because it was 75 degrees on April 10th, doesn't mean that on April 11th you should prance out in a skirt, bare legs and flip flops without checking first. Conversely, just because we dipped into the 30s on Tuesday night, doesn't mean that each subsequent day you should come out with a coat. And scarf. And gloves. CHECK THE WEATHER.

Metro should also take note of this. Just because the high was 55 on Tuesday, on Wednesday when the high was 65, I shouldn't get on a train and have 80 degree heat blasted on me. It's also really fun to get on the train on a cool day and have the air conditioning on. You guys aren't exempt: CHECK THE WEATHER.

Flip flops are back, kids. Did you miss that sound for those 5 months or so of cool enough weather for most people just to put them away? This may sound a tad prissy, but oh well. If you're wearing open toed shoes, please make sure that you've buffed away the winter funk that grows on your feet during those months. Because you know what? We don't want to see that.

Although there is probably no cure to these faux paus other than a good old fashioned dose of common sense, you have been warned. Here's wishing you a safe spring season.

That is all.

Sexy, Lusty Things: 2008 Edition

2008-02-14T17:59:00.006Z

Another Valentine's Day is upon us, therefore it's time for the second yearly installment of the things that make me wanna sweat. And not at the gym.

In my music picks from last year, I left out the mother of all sexy songs: Let's Get It On. One morning on the way out to my car, I was thinking about...well, nothing G rated. And I got into my car, turned it on and lo and behold, what is playing? It made me laugh out loud. It's like a directive. I mean, you just feel like you have to. And that's kinda sexy too. The other mother of all sexy songs that's actually a kind of un-love song with the whole "no, I don't want to fall in love" thing happening, but at the same time so sexy is of course Wicked Game. That song is how many years old? But play it, and damn, that'll set the mood anytime, anyplace.

I'm all for really hot sex scenes that don't need to devolve into full on porn (my previous favorite being Rachel Weisz and Jude Law in Enemy at the Gates), and in January I found the latest really good one: Atonement. James McAvoy always helps the sexy content, and even though I don't necessarily think Keira Knightly is beautiful there is something inherently sexy about her. These two really do have amazing chemistry. I mean, Christ, their Entertainment Weekly cover was practically smoldering in my mailbox. What kind of green is the dress she's wearing? Yeah, that's envy.

Over dinner last week, I was lamenting to my MOI (man of interest) that I have fallen way behind on good downloads of any kind from iTunes because of connection issues with my desktop, and that I didn't buy my laptop to use with iTunes and downloaded content. And furthermore, that currently my laptop has a virus on it that I need to fix. He said he had just the solution, so of course I was interested. What is it? I asked. He replies, A Mac. Oh, so you're smart now?

Even if I am a PC girl, this *is* pretty damn sexy. Too much machine for me - and too much paycheck for that matter - but it would be really nice to feel like I won't need a shoulder replacement after I've traveled with my laptop. And I totally love the song that's on the commercial. Damn you, Mac Marketing Genuises!

More cleft chinned men. Ever since I was flipping through a U2 concert book and was confronted with Bono's very pronounced cleft chin, I realized that I made an egregious error in leaving him out. Bono is the rock king of the cleft chin. With or Without You Bono is all kinds of sexy, including the song and most definitely the video.

Ding dong the evil studio witches are dead and the Writer's Strike is OVER! What does that mean? It means that when I'm not out saving the world, the boob tube can delight me with even more new episodes of Lost (oh, hello Matthew Fox), The Office (Jim + Pam 4ever), Pushing Daisies (man alive, I find Ned sexy as hell, exhibit A to the left), and hopefully ER. ER is one of those things I just can't seem to get rid of. It's comfortable. So shut up. And since Heroes won't be coming back (sorry, kids) this season, it gives me extra time to catch up so I can join in on the love next year.

Nothing is more sexy than a good laugh, and in the midst of all the diamond commercials on TV and on the radio (the song "the heart is like a diamond/eternal and true/and that's why I'm in love with a woman like you" is a special kind of torture in the morning on your wake up radio alarm), this one makes me giggle everytime. And really the only time I will ever enjoy REO Speedwagon.

And finally, here's a tip for the men out there for Valentine's Day, you know, looking for tips on this genuine "holiday". Women love compliments. As much as you like them (remember?), and we can usually give them pretty generously. But we don't seem to get them back with the same frequency, and mostly that's okay because we know you're just wired differently. But if you are looking to give a compliment - one that we really like to hear - it may be this:

You look beautiful.

Which is wonderful, so thank you. But if you want to make it better?

You are beautiful.

Little change, huge difference.

Or if instead you'd rather just send a cheeky or slightly to wildly inappropriate but hilarious sentiment, check out some ecards. Happy Valentines Day, kids. Watch out for those creepy little naked munchkins with arrows.

Look What the Cat Dragged In - Season 2 of Rock of Love

2008-01-22T03:29:00.000Z

He's back, girls. That's right. Everyone's favorite sexy 40 year old rockstar with bangs. Bret Michaels! Perez Hilton spelled his name with two Ts and I shook my head at the gossip queen. It's just one T, Perez. Wasn't he investigating just how tight his jeans were when he was a kid? No? Just me then?

The WGA strike is killin' me (although I support the writers). Although the networks have done some clever shuffling and stockpiling and produced the funniest episode of 30 Rock I've ever seen one lonely Thursday night (where Liz Lemon drunk dials the answering machine of the co op board who haven't accepted her application), it's slim pickins out there. (Cashmere Mafia anyone?) Thank goodness VH1 has come to the rescue with another season of Rock of Love. Oh the humanity. Again.

Did these bitches even LISTEN to Poison when they were releasing albums that people were buying? When they were a staple on MTV and the Headbanger’s Ball? Do they even know what the Headbanger’s Ball is? Sometimes, I think that should be a qualification. Lend's a bit of authenticity. However, the fact they all broke out into applause and woooooooo when he showed up in his 'Vette for the first time was pretty gross. But then again, it’s not Bret’s fans vying for his love. They just have to be hot, and we all know that younger is hotter right? Snort. Oh and by the way? Crazy is the new hot. Then again, that kind of situation would make anyone crazy I think. I still think most of them started that way.

I’ve always disliked the competitiveness of these kinds of shows: the Bachelor, Joe Millionaire, Average Joe, etc. I’ve watched some of these shows in my life, but as I’ve gotten older and hopefully wiser, they just turn my stomach. 20 people fighting for ONE person. Even someone who isn’t competitive is going to get competitive in that kind of atmosphere. Then add in the challenges where they literally fight against each other in physical and creative matches for a date with that person, what do you expect? And how exactly does that promote a love match? Well, it doesn’t. It creates drama and tension and competition, and that in turn supposedly creates good tv. I’m not a competitive person by nature. Maybe against myself, but I don’t have a real desire to beat out other people. Watching people kill each other over something, much less a date, is revolting. How many of these women really actually *like* the guy they’re competing for? How could they possibly know? When you put that many people together for one purpose, the hunger for a win becomes stronger than feeling for a mate, I would think. And then your ego kicks in - you have to be the hottest and if not the hottest, then the funniest, cleverest, smartest, whatever. Those last three adjectives do not play into Rock of Love though. Maybe funny. But they're funny as in laughing AT, not with.

Last year on Rock of Love, that really tall, slightly albino-ish, tattooed chick despised the competition of it all and was pretty graceful about it other than a few crying bouts, which I don’t blame her for. Bret ultimately dismissed her because he didn’t think she could take the ‘game’. Then made out with her before he sent her on his way. Hey, dumbass, maybe that’s the girl you should be going for. Thank GOD she doesn’t have the heart for the game. The words, "I have to step up my game" should not enter into this crazy little thing called love.

Do men really want us to make grand gestures for them? Or do they just like to see women fighting over them? I guess anyone would like to know there are two or more people willing to stretch themselves just for a shot at a couple of hours for them, but those kinds of situations don’t really exist in real life. And thank God for that. If a woman got a man’s name tattooed on the back of her neck as her first tattoo, I think that would send a man running away rather than to the flower shop for a dozen roses. But it did make for an interesting episode of Rock of Love. The other thing that makes all this smack of desperation is the lengths these people have to go to in order to convince their end game prospect that they’re the right person for them. How humiliating. I’ve walked that line, in having the ‘what happened’ conversation, not launching into how awesome I am. If I have to tell you to convince you, then really, what the hell are we doing here? A couple of those instances still make me wince with shame- that I even started to try to convince. It never works. And even if it had, I would always know that I had to talk someone into it.

Korie. Ambre. Niki. Destineye. Stripper names. And oh hey, guess what? One of them IS a stripper (I also think she's a French man, baby, with really good implants), and they all have stripper bodies. Ambre (what the fuck, honey, why switch the r and e? does it really make that big of a difference?) has the most ridiculous abs. I don't think she's all that pretty, but who's really looking at her face. Some of the 'competitions'...well, all the competitions, are just ways for these bitches to take their clothes off. Yes, I take issues with women competing for anything just based on looks. Bret Michaels actually said something along the lines of "if licking chocolate mousse off your breasts isn't a spiritual connection, I don't know what is." Gag me. I get that physical attraction is important folks. But it would help not emphasize that so much when you are supposedly looking for "love". Every other word or statement out of that man's mouth has to do with the physical attractiveness of these women or the level of hard on he has.

It's so hard for me to watch this show. Because I watch it with a look on my face that would be exact same if I was watching Fear Factor when they eat the nasty things. It flips me the fuck out to see Bret Michaels make out with all these women. I don't know if it's because it's him or because it's like Tuesday at the Playboy Mansion. Sadly, I don't think I'll give up watching.

So when life gives you bad reality tv shows about former teenage rock crushes, you try to draw life lessons and blog about them. Right? Just me then? Damn.

The Great Divide

2008-01-15T00:57:00.000Z

Christians and Muslims. Christians and Jews. Soviet Russia and the United States. Turks and Greeks. Redskins and Cowboys. Kanye and Fiddy. All of these pairs have long, stormy histories. There are major lines drawn between them, lines that have been crossed and started wars. Bar fights. Ridicule on Perezhilton.com. But in the DC Metro area there’s an even greater divide.

Maryland and Virginia.

Even the greenest of Washingtonians knows that the lines crossing into either state are not crossed lightly. Virginians love Virginia, it just makes sense to them. Marylanders love their Maryland, it makes sense to us. When one of us has to go to the other we bitch and moan about it before we even get in the car and then grumble all the way. I have always said myself that as soon as I go off towards NoVa after the 270/495 split, I have to slow down an average of 10 mph and do the Virginia car dodge of the inevitable left lane sitters going 60. And us Marylanders are known for being crazy drivers. Hell, even I get nervous amongst the cars zooming 85 down parts of the beltway running through Montgomery and PG counties.

I get lost when I go into most parts of Virginia, unless I know the area really well and admittedly I don’t know many parts very well unless you count getting to Tysons and Old Town Alexandria. The first time I went to visit my friend J in Springfield I got so lost she had to come and get me so I could follow her. Roads are just different. Signs are different. Fairfax County Parkway, WTF? And why are there two signs for Hooes/Pohick Road? Even our HOV systems are different. VA’s is better, and they have that crazy slug commuter thing happening, but it works really well for a lot of people. In Maryland, we’d just as soon spit on you than let you in our cars to get on the HOV. Why? Because it’s not worth it with our Podunk HOV lane that only goes so far.

DC is our common ground. J is one of my best friends, but I don’t know if we would have gotten close if we didn’t work together because she lives in VA and I live in MD. Three of my favorite people live in VA and I have never been to their places and only Mandy has been to my old apartment. So when the four of us get together, it’s usually in DC. It’s not that we don’t care, it’s just that you just can’t catch a movie or a cup of coffee as easy when you have to get on the beltway and 270 and figure out where the hell you are just to see your friend. And I get that, I don’t hold it against my VA friends that they don’t traipse up here on a whim, but I don’t traipse to them on a whim either. It takes Plans. With a capital P. (But I will go down there to you guys, I promise!)

The funniest thing about this Great Divide though is the amount of men and women who will disqualify a date prospect purely because of where they live. I’ve been the recipient of this geographical disqualification more times than I’d like to admit. Hell, even before I was a date prospect I was told by someone that ‘taking 2 hours to get to Rockville on a Tuesday night makes me want to stick things in my eyes.’ Over the last couple of years, I haven’t even gotten past first communications with at least 3 guys living in NoVa because they said Rockville was too far away. And then at least another couple of guys after communication had been established (and I thought it was enjoyable) they said they had ‘concerns’ about me living in MD.

Do I live in New Hampshire? Did Montgomery County get annexed to New England and I wasn’t told? Because I’ll go run out and get my Tom Brady jersey, if that’s the case. I was talking to a guy last weekend and I asked him if he lived in VA and he said yes, asked me and I said I lived in Montgomery County and he made a joke about being afraid to come to Maryland, it was a baaad place and he didn’t go there. Even though it was a joke, I knew he was kinda serious at the same time. I don’t know that he considered me a dating prospect, but I did wonder that if he did, would the Maryland citizenship would DQ me.

I’d prefer to date someone who lives in the same town, the next town over, sure. Not having to get on the beltway to see a date is a definite plus. But me personally, I don’t DQ on NoVa geography. I would draw the line in Manassas or Centreville. My dating pool just isn’t that big where I can pick people off and say, eh, they’re too far. What if that’s a fantastic person? So you have to drive a little further or maybe – gasp – not see them 24/7, but are those things really the end of the world? To me it’s not. So in my self-critical mind, I think that since I’ve been DQ-ed so many times that it’s obvious I’m not worth crossing the state line for. It’s happened enough times now that I realize it’s just the way it is and hopefully not a sign of personal shortcomings, but I still think it’s kinda shitty sometimes.

Hey, I get that NoVa is a bit closer to DC, that you guys have hipper suburban communities than Montgomery County. I can think of a few pretty cool bars in NoVa whereas I’m hard pressed to think of them in MD. Even your goddamn Hokies are better than our Terps and your cigarettes are cheaper. But you're in a Republican state (ha!)! It seems there are more dateable men in NoVa than in MoCo, based on my experience from Match.com and just observing when out in the respective states. But I guess it doesn’t really matter since most of them don’t want to relationship commute.

As Steve Winwood says, that’s just the way it is. Some things will never change. Oh well. I’m not moving.

New Year, New Age

2008-01-11T02:07:00.000Z

It's happened. As of last Friday, I became a 30something.

Gawd.

Remember that show, thirtysomething? How the hell old were those people on that show anyway? A quick Google search didn't turn up much, so I did some mental subtraction based on the age of the actors and when the show was on TV (1987) thanks to IMDB. Ken Olin was 33. Mel Harris was 31. A picture that I found showed them with a less-than-one-year-old kid. 33 and 31. He ran an advertising agency, I don't know what she did other than sparkle and gripe.

Those many years ago in 1987, it seemed more of the norm: being married in your mid/late 20s, having kids and raising a family. That is still a prevailing theme 20 years later. Thirty years later. However, it's way more mainstream now to be single in your 30s and for that to be 'okay' despite the many books, movies, magazines, etc. etc. that exist to bitch about the plight of the 30something singleton. Bridget Jones and Sex and the City, I'm looking in your direction. And even they ended with the girls getting the guys and happily ever after.

I'm not really writing to bitch about the plight of my single status at the ripe age of 31, even if a year of being 30 has brought me a handful of good, okay, and maybe one or two slightly less than okay dates (okay, they were creepy). Although there is a much better prospect of something else this year already, but the future remains unwritten. But I mention thirtysomething and the marraige and kids to remind us that things have changed in terms of expectations, even if it's taken our brains a bit longer to catch up. Although that still remains as an evil kind of measure out there, it's kicked further back in the closet only to be found by the most nitpicking of mothers, friends, aunts, and the like.

It got me to thinking though (and I apologize for the inadvertent summoning of Carrie Bradshaw), when my mom and her contemporaries were my age, they were all married with kids. Kids take up a lot of time. So much time that I can't imagine moms and dads of young children have time to think about anything else besides the kids, money, and keeping some semblance of sanity. The family types probably don't have time to make new goals for themselves, to accomplish anything else besides making a family work which I tip my hat off to because I can barely take care of myself, much less a marraige and munchkins. But I don't know a whole lot of those family types my age. The ones I do know, it's like I know *of* them, they are family unit friends of friends. They seem to belong to a different club than me and we just don't socialize, as they may as well be from a different planet most of the time. Purely because of difference in life and priorities, neither side being better than the other.

I can only assume by observation of my small world that there are less of these young family units in modern days, in this modern city of DC that we live in. My friend Co used to go to school in Texas and it was seeming like every other week we were hearing about someone else barely in their 20s were getting married and their subsequent electronic sonnet of love on their myspace page declaring they are the luckiest person in the whole world. Which leads me to believe, along with Dubya's second term, that much of the country is different from our little area here in and around DC. Not exactly earth shattering news, I realize. But interesting when you think about it. But here, we have lots of single people digging in their heels in their careers, vying for power, doing whatever it is Washingtonians do, looking for the next goal in their life. When that goal isn't a family in your early 30s, what is it?
The new year and new age make me wonder what my next steps are, what my next thing is to attain. I wonder what I've learned. What I haven't learned. What I missed. What I did. What I should have or shouldn't have done. What I enjoyed. If I enjoyed something more because of my advancing age, or did I find myself too old to enjoy something because of the onset of the 30somethings where things like the Hills on MTV makes you want to puke whereas even at 24 I'd hunker down for a new hour of the Real World.

A quick Google search of "thirtysomething women" brought up the following, in order:

- Thirtysomething Dating - eharmony.com
- A Flickr 30something group
- A Chicago 30something soccer league
- Several entries on the episode of Sex and the City titled "Twentysomething Girls vs. Thirtysomething Women"
- A book called "Skinny Bitching" where the author asks things like "What to do when you actually start breaking out again like you did in junior high school (how is that even possible?)" and expounds on "Saying good-bye to going to bars, seeing bands, and generally being cool"
- An article from thisislondon.com about how thirtysomething women should freeze their eggs if they want kids in the future

Really, folks? That's all we got? Well, I'm not down on the soccer league, but the other links kind of underline my point that a woman in her 30s, if not focused on her own new family, is looking for a date and/or mate, should be looking for kids, wondering about inane things like why we're still breaking out, and then being immortalized in a Sex and the City episode. Yes, I've mentioned before that I still break out at 30, and this will likely not be the last mention of dating and the what not. But there still has to be other stuff. Right?

I don't know what my 30s should be about either. In the last year, the welcome party into my 30s, I have realized a few things. I hate this gimme culture that we live in, where Louis Vuitton is the norm for 13 year old girls and going into debt to look like you belong in the Devil Wears Prada. I love stuff, I always have. But I've realized that stuff doesn't make me happier, and have worked on cutting back on shopping as part of a pledge to a more sound financial future. Looking back, I've found myself wondering if I had really been living. I've learned to speak up for myself in many situations, when it's uncomfortable or may bring on conflict. I've learned not to always take the easy road. But there are still some things that require me actually stepping up and putting myself on the line. I'm going to do my best to do that and accept the fallout or reap the rewards. Because there can't be rewards if you don't even try. I want to...I have to. Make sure I'm actually trying.

We'll see. Here I am, another thirtysomething woman making her way. After all. Roar. Or something.

Flotsam, Jetsam, and Vegas

2007-12-10T05:01:00.000Z

Hey, kids.

Just haven't been inspired to write much lately, but all is well. Things have been fine, been happening I suppose although I feel my life is fairly boring. But it's been a decent boring. There are things to write about, to vent about, but they involve sharing things that could either hurt, piss off, maybe reveal too much. But in no particular order, here are some thoughts and hapenings:

- I'm so sorry I didn't make it out to happy hour. I was at the Redskins game the night before and had so much fun, but didn't get enough sleep. Then work was kinda crappy and I ran into a snafu late in the day, and was just drained. I promise, promise, promise to come to the first one in 2008. Hopefully these lovely people will forgive me, and thankfully I get to see most of you anyway.

- It's that strange time of year for me where work is conversely busy then idle. The holidays are rushing up and the Christmas gift list for friends and family is mostly blank which means I don't know what to get them. But Christmas comes anyway.

- I'm taking three days of vacation, but will be off for 10 days, and that's the best Christmas gift ever.

- I watched Pushing Daisies for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and what a great show in a sea of TV crap. And the sea is just getting bigger and bigger as pretty much all network shoes are out of episodes due to the strike, and no end seems to be in sight. Please no more reality. If Tila Tequila and I Love New York get their own shows, what's next? Crazy Bitches Off The Street Do Stuff from 8 pm to 9 pm on Fox? Oh wait, those are already on MTV...

- It's movie season. This is the best time of year for really good movies. I might do a whole separate post with trailers for stuff I'm pysched about. Currently, I'm most pysched about I Am Legend, Revolver, and Sweeney Todd. Johnny Depp and Alan Rickman, people!!

- Speaking of good films, I saw Stardust on my flight today. It was excellent. I've just recently started reading Neil Gaiman, (first Neverwhere, then Good Omens was suggested by a friend, and now American Gods) who wrote Stardust and produced the movie, and it took me a bit to get into him but I have. And I'm hooked.

- I'm writing this from Las Vegas. I'm out here for part of the week on a work trip. Vegas is crazy. We all know this. I've only been here once before, doing the 30th birthday thing for a girlfriend so it was all about drinking, dancing, whatever, eating, sleeping, repeat. I remember that before that trip I had gotten a very rare bonus at work and put most of it towards my trip, so I came to Vegas with like $700some. And I left without putting much of a dent in that b/c my blackjack endeavors netted me $25 by the end of the weekend, one night, a bartender took care of us, one night we had In-and-Out Burger instead of some overpriced whatever somewhere else. Well this trip, I don't have the benefit of a bonus. And I'm supposed to be saving money, so I have to decide if I put $100 on a blackjack table that I can lose it and not want to maim myself. Jury is still out.

- I'm staying at Mandalay Bay, and the Spice Girls are playing tonight and Tuesday night. Oh my, the trash they have brought out. And by the by, the SPICE GIRLS? How did this happen, 10 years later? Was this predictable? Does this mean 98 degrees is coming back too?

- My friend Co and I have a code word(s) for women dressed really badly, the outfit where you are like oh-hell-no-she-does-not-own-a-mirror: woo woo. We got it from another friend, and it was so silly, it just kinda caugh. It is woo woo everywhere tonight. As I walked around downstairs amongst the tables, I passed by a couple of grown women sitting at a bar, with a glittery sign proclaiming their love for Mel B. One of them had an outfit on that was one big British flag. She also had pig tails and those pink fluffy holder things a la Britney in the Hit Me Baby... video.

- My next step was to watch the action at a roulette table, which was next to a blackjack table where a woman who was hard not to notice was sitting at first base. She was dressed in head to toe denim and rhinestones. On her jeans, both back and front, where rhinestone horseshoes. A cross on the back of her jacket and her cowboy boots. She yelled out to some young girls passing by and started bragging about how great they looked and that they made their own outfits for the Spice Girls tonight. The girls couldn't have been more than 15, 16 tops. One was wearing a white skin tight mini skirt, a pink tube top, knee high stockings (again, a la Britney in the Hit Me Baby... video), and her friend was wearing a zebra print unitard and had her face painted silver in what was possibly supposed to be a Union Jack.

- There's a TV in my bathroom. It's HD and flatscreen. The superflousness of this cracks me up.

- The couple in my row on my flight today griped at one of the flight attendants about how when they were in Australia, you weren't allowed to bring roller suitcases on the flight and it's ridiculous how everyone brings them on here. And that he was going to write his congressman.

I don't have to spend money to be entertained in Vegas. I wonder what else will be on.

Knights In White Satin

2007-11-13T21:03:00.001Z

"Chivalry is dead."

That’s a statement that’s thrown around often enough. After reading Lemon Gloria’s post on who pays for dinner and all the comments, I started to think about chivalry and what I associate with the term. Most often, when that phrase is thrown around, it’s to lambaste a man for not doing something ‘nice’. Like opening a door for a woman, maybe not paying for a dinner, even not getting up from a seat for a standing woman on the metro.

Chivalry is limited only to men. Women can’t be accused of not being chivalrous (can we?). It’s the man’s responsibility to step up and do those nice things. I’ve wondered how the onus falls on an average Joe on the metro to give up his seat just because a woman doesn’t have a seat. I can’t get mad at guys for not giving up their seat. They have as much of a right to it as I do. Pregnant women, seniors, infirm, of course that’s a different story. But average Sally? Nah. But sometimes when my dogs are barking/my heel spurs are killing me or I’ve had a bad day and don’t feel like getting shoved around up in the masses crowded by the door and uncomfortably spooning with strangers, I will think (unreasonably) that one of those guys should give up a seat.*

Lemon Gloria said in her post that it was standard dating practice that she almost never had to pay on first dates. Most women who commented said the same thing. Most men who commented said that they generally paid too. That is was the ‘right thing to do.’ Of course there was the talk of the woman perfunctorily reaching for the bag and being shooed off – that is expected. We get points off if we don’t; I guess that’s our chivalrous match point. I was shocked at how many people said this. Out of the 6 or 7 guys I’ve gone out with in the last year, only one of them paid on the first date. He also paid on the second. I was so surprised when this occurred, because it hadn’t happened in so long. And then here I read that this a regular occurrence, which made me think that a, I was going out with assholes, or b, those guys must not think much of me. Really, I come out the winner either way.

I don’t know that I feel like it’s the guy’s responsibility to pay on a first date. I don’t like the standard dating advice of whoever asks the other out should pay. I mean, I usually have something to do with the plans, I don’t just say ‘whatever you want to do’. I contribute. I suppose it might be appropriate in certain circumstances, like if I invited a guy to a baseball game, I wouldn’t ask him to cough up the money for his ticket. Or if a guy invited me to one, I wouldn’t expect him to pay for my beer and hot dog. On that first date where he paid, we went for beers at a pub after dinner, and I paid for those. He offered, but I said I had it. I mean, dinner…drinks…I know it’s not exactly equal, but if the opportunity arises I try to reciprocate.

Do those little acts of chivalry make men better men? I don’t know. I love those little things, but more along the lines of opening a car door, opening a door to a building. Buying dinner is nice too, but the smaller ‘chivalrous’ things mean more to me for whatever reason.

The real definition of chivalry I suppose can be translated across the ages in terms of giving up a seat or paying for dinner. According to dictionary.com, chivalry is defined as

The sum of the ideal qualification of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms.

And to go even further, ChivalryToday.com** says that the small acts of courtesy that define it today are just that – small acts. There is much more ‘at the heart of chivalry’:

Chivalry is a code of conduct created by the knights of the Middle Ages to combat the attitudes of brutality, ignorance and prejudice which were all-too-common in that era of darkness and cruelty. Far from being dead, chivalry today is embodied by people whose actions are always trustworthy and admirable; who understand that strength and gentleness are not opposites; and who know the importance of standing by one’s principles, no matter how tempting the compromise.

I think most people would rather have someone chivalrous at heart in this sense. Of course these guys probably do open up doors and take your arm or hand while they walk on the curbside because they actually like doing those little nice things or just think it’s the right thing to do. Not because they think a woman needs it or because she expects it, or wonders whether it will insult her – he does it because he likes to. That’s a knight in shining armor, to me.

While I would categorize myself as a strong woman and can do plenty of things for myself, I do like it when a man can be ‘strong’ yet gentle and put his hand on the small of my back as we’re walking through a crowd, or offer me a hand getting out of the car.

I’m strong enough to accept it.

*Although I do believe on the really crowded days that those little snot nosed private school anklebiters shouldn’t be sitting, even if I don’t get their seats.

**In case you were wondering if there's a modern day chivalrous code of ethics of sort, check this out.

Dueling Banjos: Men Give Advice to Other Men and Women on How to Be Attractive to the Opposite Sex

2007-11-07T18:54:00.000Z

The world wide web is full of dating advice from dating gurus: Yahoo. Books. Paige Parker. My friend Co sent me a somewhat silly article from Yahoo on surprising things about women that turn on men. It’s by Mr. Abs himself, the one who gave us chicks the awesomest pickup lines like “meow”. Initially, I wanted to find dating advice that tells women to do the opposite of this advice, but I found something even worse. Advice to men, by men, on how to be attractive to women.

Let’s go for a ride, shall we?

I feel I should preface this with the fact that I don’t mean to knock all dating advice. I first came across Paige Parker's stuff because I was looking for advice. Everyone wants a road map to the answers. Everyone wants a how-to guide or instructions like Ikea gives you so you can go through the steps and voila! Relationship! Or fill in the blank depending on what you’re looking for. There isn’t any one answer for the simple, yet complicated fact that yes, there are some truths that are fairly universal and follow the Turn Screw A into Slot B (no pun intended) directions. However, there are exceptions to every rule out there.

But some of the advice that’s given I feel, at their lowest common denominators, are:

1. sexist;
2. antiquated;
3. ridiculous/laughable;
4. all of the above.

I wanted to take some of these things and break ‘em down, first the mildy crappy advice to the positively craptastic. First up, Mr. Abs on the things that turns men on. They are, and I quote:

standing tall;
showing true grit;
wearing baseball caps;
being software savvy;
using sexy shampoo;
wearing understated underwear;
dirt and sweat;
have a few duh moments

I’ll leave baseball caps and sexy shampoo alone because I have heard a lot that men love seeing women in baseball caps. And that standing tall and not hiding yourself is an attractive quality. Fine, whatevs. I think it’s safe to say that *people* like nice smells on *other* people, so sexy shampoo is out.

But SuperAbs goes on to say that men like women who a, know their way around computer software (not hardware mind you, JUST the software):

“Show a guy a woman who knows her way around systems, networks, and connections, and he'll be dazzled by her smarts - and appreciate her talents.”

He goes onto say it may be just a giant sexual metaphor, that if a woman can click a few buttons and get systems up and running, then he’s impressed. I dunno, seems kinda insulting to the guys. I know that men think about sex pretty much all the time, but really? If I ravage my way through one mean Word Mail Merge, does that make him want to throw down any quicker? How can I showcase that on a date, over dinner? "Wow," I would say, "Today at work, I had this Excel data file that was already OPEN when I was trying to merge. I had to get up and talk to my colleague, ask them to shut it down, then I could finally get on with my Merge. It was touch and go there for a minute, but I got those letters out.” Then, he'll ask me to marry him on the spot.

Then Mr. I-Wish-I-was-John-Basedow says to make sure that we have ‘duh’ moments. While mens like their womens computer smart (or at the very least able to put together a Power Point presentation), men like the ditzy moments “Because if she can show that she may not know everything, it reinforces something deep inside a man that he's needed, that he's trusted, that he can be there to help.” My problem with this advice is that it seems to be asking a woman to purposely dumb herself down just to show that she’s not quite as smart as he might think you are? Fuck that. I mean, FUCK that. People – just as normal people – have duh moments period. If you’re being honest with anyone, you’re going to forget something, or you’re going to say something silly because why? You are a member of the human race. I think anyone who would purposely dumb themselves down to make someone else feel better is dumb no matter how you slice it.

Let’s move onto the truly craptastic advice on the same subject except aimed towards men: AskMen.com’s 10 Ways To Get Her to Chase You

The subheader to this should be: How To Get Women to Think You’re An Idiot and Consider Going Lesbian.

Number 10, and the fuzziest of them all:

Use “reverse rapport”
“Reverse rapport” is when you say and do the opposite of what a guy would do when he’s trying to make a woman like him… but in a sarcastic, overly serious way that assumes the woman already knows, likes and trusts you. The objective here is NOT to try to be sweet and wonderful and nice in order to win her approval. How do you do this? Well, one way is to use a
sarcastic comment that’s the OPPOSITE of what a woman wants to hear. Or answer a question a woman asks you with an answer that’s the opposite of what she expects, all in a very sarcastic tone that implies you’re making fun of her. When you do, you’ll create a deep, polarity-charged connection with her that will get her pursuing you in no time flat.

What. The. Eff? I don’t even know what that means, which I suppose means that guys who do this are engaging in such advanced dating leave me in my sandbox on their way to the opera. Which is fine with me. My favorite part of this paragraph is “the objective here is NOT to try and be sweet and wondering and nice to win her approval.” One, no one should be winning anyone’s "approval", unless we’re talking about our elders. Two, don’t be nice? Don’t be sweet? I am aware that yes, some women go for assholes, and apparently that’s the demographic that is being appealed to in this case. But for the women I know? We enjoy well placed sarcasm, but this advice is just telling him to be a dick in order to throw a woman off guard. Not cool.

Never backpedal or explain yourself
If you say or do something that seems to upset a woman, don’t try to explain your way out of it or do something to “make
her feel better.” Don’t act like you screwed up or show her that you’re nervous just because she’s acting upset. Just move on as if nothing happened. Get right on to the next topic or story. If she stays on it, whines or complains, just say “Get over it, it was a joke, stop being a pain,” and then get on to the next topic again.

Once again, more dick advice. I’m picturing a guy making a sexist or racist remark and the girl being visibly shaken by it. Then asking, is that how you really feel about X and then him being a dick back. Stop being a pain? If a guy said that to me inside of many, many dates and knowing me pretty well, I’d get up and go. And ignoring it and going to the next topic? Yeah, ignoring is a really good tactic. Make her feel like she's nuts, which will be the only way she *will* be into you is if she's lost her sanity.

Hint that you’re normal
There are a lot of psycho, perverted and “mentally unstable” guys out there, so it’s important you communicate through your behavior that you’re NOT one of them. Tell a woman you’re busy, and get off the phone WITHOUT asking her to meet for a date. Make fun of dumb-ass behavior, and other guys who act like wussies. If she calls but doesn’t leave a message, accuse her of being a stalker, and tell her that normal people leave messages. Chase women out of your house; say “get out” over and over again if she’s kissing you. All of this gives her subtle signs that you’re not some freak who desperately wants to get in her pants. This will give her an irresistible craving to get to know you better because you’re so different from the typical
needy guys she dates.

This one is particularly scary. First of all, if you have to "hint" that you're normal, you're not. Period. Telling a woman she’s a stalker. Telling her to get out when you’re making out. Make fun of wussies (who apparently are men who do “nice” and “wonderful” things for their dates). These things send subtle signals that he’s not unstable. Nothing says stable like hints that my date is "normal" and then getting chased out of an apartment when I’m making out with you. Freak.

Use her own games on her
We all know women love playing games. But when you turn the tables and play games on a woman, it shifts the power dynamic in your favor. One of my favorite games to play with women is “You’re a brat, and I’m fake exasperated.” That’s pretty self-explanatory. Some others are “Let’s see who can act the least interested,” and “I’m hard to get, and you love me.”

This was number one on the list, and yet, the worst of the batch. Why? Because we all know that women are told to Play by The Rules. And now men are being told the same thing with the added bonus of being insulting, by calling their dates brats.

I almost feel bad for disparaging Abs Man, after reading this really horrible, alpha asshole advice. And I would like to point out that the asshat giving out the latter advice is the proprietor of DoubleYourDating.com. Wow, makes you want to run right over there, doesn't it?

With all the conflicting, horrible advice out there, it’s a wonder anyone gets together at all. Although not everyone in the dating population chooses to look up dating advice on the web, but most of these things are already out there anyway. It’s a sad state of affairs. And I have to tip my hat to Jo, KassyK, Velvet, and Freckled K who have pointed out in their individual posts (and they are hot and fabulous women, thankyouverymuch) that took these kinds of horrible things by the horns and called bullshit on them. Thanks, ladies, for putting it out there, in your own words, which sparked the latter part of this post.

What’s the moral of the story? I don’t know. I’m not fit to dispense any advice except not to listen to AskMen.com. Ever. Unless you’re an asshole and want to hook an idiot, and then in that case, carry on.

Put Your Online Dating Love Life in My Hands (but don't blame me if it doesn't work out)

2007-11-02T02:11:00.000Z

I have been threatening my friend J with throwing her ~~to the wolves~~ back into the dating scene. She’s signed up to match.com, has an active profile and everything…but she doesn’t use it. I told her I’d help her rewrite, search for some guys, send some emails, whatever. I even suggested posting a double date posting on Craigslist, but we both thought better of that, although we could have shared in the what would probably be horrible experience. So the other day she just gave me her match.com log in and password and told me that I could just go in as her and do what I will. I could be her puppet master.

I was intrigued.

I’m not a controlling person when it comes to other people. Do I wish more people did things the way I did them in some cases? Do I wish that I could will someone to give me an answer to a question that’s driving me nuts or wish someone would act a different way towards me? Absolutely. But I don’t have the driving desire to pull the strings in other people’s lives. I can barely pull the strings in my own.

However, my darling J is shy and needs a little push, so I accepted the challenge. I told her that in exchange, she would become my blog fodder. We just need a great name for it. The great online dating experiment? No...but I’m thinking anthropological should be in the title.

But anyway. The first step is writing her profile. A friend and I were talking the other day about how interesting (and usually accurate) it is to hear what other people think of you or how they would describe you. Hell, there’s a whole dating website dedicated for the purpose of one person talking up another person so they can score a date. As I sat in front of the blank page, with all kinds of great J knowledge in my head, I got to thinking about what makes a good profile. And like any good…erm, journalist…I decided to go looking for some good examples.

We all know the bad examples out there. They are obviously, glaringly bad because they usually incorporate some sort of freakshow into it or they’re just so moronic you have to stop and point. But what about the other profiles? They range from simple to devoid of life/personality to boring to clever to over the top to insert-adjective-here. I’ve been online dating for a long time, sad to admit, so I’ve seen a lot in profiles. I know what catches my eye, however, with the massive amount of profiles I’ve read and that are out there, what’s the criteria for good?

It’s easy to rule out the guys who are looking for their “queen” or who asks “ever been with a felon?” or who states “cautiously dating with herpes”. But is it so easy to rule out a guy who is a “first time online dater, be gentle”? Is that cute or stupid? Let’s go through some profiles and headlines, of both men and women, that range from the very simple borderline boring to the…well, to the other, hopefully better side.

Here’s an exposition of I am _____ and an example of how they’re blank.

I am outgoing and funny (I think so at least). I love to get people to laugh and sometimes that works to my disadvantage. Case-in-point: Yesterday someone at work was looking for some lotion because they had dry hands, I immediately piped up with, "it rubs the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again." I thought
that was hilarious but my co-workers... not so much.

More I am blank with her own flavor to attract a complimentary flavor at the Baskin Robbins of online dating.

I'm a regular girl, a little on the quiet side, but I thaw fairly quick once I
get to know you. I'm your typical down-to-earth woman, always treating people with respect and honesty. I'm the type who's restless in normal life. I need to find something unusual to wake me up. When I go out, I go with the flow, and end up where I end up. My friends call me when they're in the mood for fun, smart
conversation.

More of the same looking for the right flavor, but rampant with examples (in parens). Perhaps a bit bossy, but I think she's going for assertive:

What I am looking for is the perfect man for me, not someone who is perfect. Have confidence with humility. (Arrogance can be such a turnoff.) Live an interesting life without embellishment. (My bullsh*t meter is fairly accurate now.) Take care of yourself without conceit. (I am no supermodel and I don't expect you to be either but know what a vegetable tastes like.) Know something about most anything but donï't claim to know everything. (Know-it-alls leave me cold.) Have a good relationship with family and friends. (i.e., show me that you are not some transient sociopath.) Be fun and free and genuine. Be open. In essence, be a real man.

Here’s the activity laden profile, to give suitors/suitorettes an idea of how they typically spend their time. You like to underwater basketweave? OMG, so I do!

I'm looking for someone who is laid back and easy going. I'm pretty silly at times, so definetly having a funny bone and good sense of humor is a plus. Someone who wants to have fun and enjoy the moment. I'm looking for someone who likes to go to porting events like baseball, especially when the White Sox come to Baltimore to play the Orioles, basketball, or hockey, go to movies, restaruants, jazz, alternative, or rock concerts, likes to walk the beach, woods, or around Washington D.C. Someone who likes to go to museums, and Italian restaruants. Basically, someone who is looking to be friends, have a good time, and go from there.

And here’s the closest to complete and rounded that I can find. Gives physical description (this is from Craiglist, so no picture), attempt at humor, examples, a silly fact about himself, semi-personal information.

I'm thirty, single, never been married, and don't have any kids (that I know of...kidding, just kidding). I'm about 5'10/11, 220lbs (work out regularly, not getting confused for a run away circus elephant by any stretch of the imagination, but will be skipping the Mr. Olympia contest this year). I've been told the celebrity I most resemble is Kevin Spacey, granted it was only by one person but they were rather emphatic about it. I like gummy bears, but not vegetables, and Italian food is my favorite type of cuisine (especially home made). I have a great sense of humor that can be silly, goofy, sarcastic, dry, and from time to time a little dark. I like someone with a quick wit that likes trading barbs, I like someone that can take a little crap, but like someone that can dish it out even more. While I love to laugh, I love making other people laugh even more.

What makes a great profile? Here’s the shockingly simple, duh answer: it depends on who is looking at. Someone could say they spend an average of 3 hours a night play World of Warcraft and that could be a love song to one person but the kiss of death to another. Duh, right? Do people get points for being clever? Funny? Intriguing? Sure. But those things are ridiculously subjective. What if someone is looking for a date who is completely predictable? That person might say that s/he eats at least 3 times a week at Noodles and Company and that might ring some sort of bell with a potential great date. Bachelor number 1 that I went out with a few times over the summer had a headline that said something like “I found my particle accelerator on CL, why not a girlfriend?” and that made me laugh.

I don’t know that there is a secret to writing a kickass profile. It’s easier to pick out the bad ones than it is the good ones. I think all the ones listed here are fine. Just…fine. *Shrug* Does that make them bad? Not really.

So here’s hoping that I can come up with something good for J (doesn’t this give you great faith, J?!). More to come.

The Cleft Chin: Facial Deformity or Classic Hot?

2007-10-16T14:17:00.000Z

Part I/Intro - The Pick Up Artist

I was out at the local Barnes and Noble with my girl Average Jane. She just listened to me rant about a crappy day at work as I ate my dinner and she drank her free coffee. Then she went on to tell me about the wedding she went to when she says, "oh my god, there he is." I looked over to see a pretty-handsome man who she was waving down. She told me between her teeth as she smiled that was the random hot guy she met last week.

The girl's got game. And moxy. He was telling us a random story about a guy downtown who takes random, copious notes in the smallest print you've ever seen and that next time he was going to take a photograph of his notes. Jane says, "And you're gonna show that to me how?" What'd I say? Moxie. So as I sat there like a third wheel, a minute or two later he whipped out his 'it's not a sidekick-sidekick' phone to look up some piece of trivia Jane had thrown out, he hands it over to Jane with her name in his address book with the cursor waiting eagerly for her phone number. Score one for Jane. Here comes more moxie - she actually took a picture of herself with the phone to store along with her digits. And she thinks she's not successful with the men. Pshaw. (For her version of the story go here)

Onto the guy. Very cute. Pretty, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He looked young though, but there was no doubt he had to be at least mid-20s, which is a tad young for this 3o year old. But just right for Jane. And he was impossible to look at sometimes because he is very good looking but that he looks at you when you speak. I mean, looks at you. No breaking eye contact, no looking at your chin, looks right at you. And asks questions so he can get a substantial answer, although I suspected he already knew the answers or the answers were inconsequential. But his most striking feature that I'd like to mention is his cleft chin. He has a very pronounced cleft chin with just the right amount of facial hair.

I told Jane, after he had scampered off somewhere in the bookstore, that I had a theory that many, many men with cleft chins are blessed with good looks. Or maybe it's the other way around. Chicken and the egg, but either way, it's true. Which got me to thinking about some classic examples. Jane expounds on the attractiveness of pretty men very well in her post today, so here's the other side, the "manly" side of the hotness.

Part II - The Cleft Chin Proof

But first, a brief history. This very scientific article says that cleft chins are "the result of an incomplete fusion between the two sides of the jawbone during development in the womb, leaving a slight depression." So really, it's a bit of a deformity. The article also says it's more prevalent in men than in women (although I have a slight one myself, but I don't think the Cleft Chin = Good Looks works as well with women). On to the photos.

The modern father, quite literally, of the cleft chin is of course Kirk Douglas. His son Michael has a less pronounced one and he is a fairly handsome man. Not my bag, but he bagged Catherine Zeta-Jones and you don't get much hotter than that.

The next example is an underrated hottie, Aaron Eckhart. He's a great actor and he's the gorgeous. Blonde hair and all, which I usually don't go for. He looks like a MAN. I don't know if it's the cleft chin that makes him more manly, but he fits into my theory so enjoy the lovely picture.

Then there's Thomas Jane, who I like to call the poor (wo)man's Aaron Eckhart. Similarities in looks and a few gem movie roles and I actually used to confuse them when they hit the scene, but Aaron ultimately takes the good looks cake. However, Mr. Patricia Arquette is not hard on the eyes.

Ah, Viggo Mortensen. The best casting call ever to make him Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. He's a very good looking man with a presence. And on a side note, I hear Eastern Promises is excellent. I also hear there's a nude shower fighting scene featuring Vigs. That doesn't have any impact on my decision to want to see it. Not at all.

Tom Brady - He has more of the chin dimple than a cleft, but it still illustrates my point. And it's pretty difficult to get much hotter than Tom Brady. And the fact that he average like 300 yards a game and that he and his Pats beat down the Cowboys complete the package with a pretty, yet manly, bow on top.

Ben Affleck. I know Ben has had some work done, but I don't believe his cleft is fake. I've been a Ben fan for a long time, let him go in the J Lo days, and I'm glad to see him get back to some decent things like his directorial debut and the talk that he and Matty Damon are writing together again. (Matt Damon does not have a cleft chin, but he's still pretty hot. And makes good career choices.)

John Mayer is another one cleft chinned lad who I think is pretty damn good looking. The smoking guitar talent helps add to the overall good looking-ness. Although John has had some momentary lapses of judgement (see Simpson, Jessica and the single Your Body is Wonderland) and he has definitely had some bad pictures taken, he's got the good looks going for him. You gotta admit.

Jason Isaacs - it's a very slight one, but it's there nonetheless. I'm a gal who loves to hate the bad guys. Severus Snape is my favorite HP character. I love seeing actors play great bad guys, and it doesn't get much better than Jason Isaacs. Who I find extremely attractive and you have to admit he's good looking even if he's not your cuppa.

One final, excellent example of handsome and cleft chin, the legendary Cary Grant.

While this is simply a theory, it does not hold true for everyone (see Phil, Dr. and Imperioli, Michael), I think these are shining examples of how a facial deformity can be incredibly handsome and they prove my theory. Did I miss anyone? And now hopefully Jane has scored herself a date with another handsome cleft chin man and I salute her.

And I promise not to turn up on their next date.

Here I Go Again (On My Own) - Best of Craigslist

2007-10-11T19:55:00.000Z

One of these is long overdue. No explanation or pontification needed except to tell you that I didn’t enter in any age parameters this time, just went commando. And secondly, neither of my Craigslist boys worked out, in case you were wondering. I’m on Craigslist sabbatical at the moment. Althought I have to say that a lot of the crazy must have gone south or something, because it wasn't quite like shooting fish in a barrel this time. But I'm sure it will be another time.

Now, to the dating comics!

If this post doesn't qualify as the "Ick Factor", I don't know what does. First, I’m confused with the post title: "Looking for someone to (SPOIL)." Why in parens? Then he actually says that he’s “single and ready to mingle”. I assume that the winking face means it was a joke, as is the statement “and sometimes funny too.” However, my most favorite part of this post is his caveat to contacting him: “I like to spoil the women I go out with but if I feel you are with me just for the material things I'm able to cut down the spoiling.” What was that, Enrique? You are totally caliente. I also like that his picture looks like he’s doing an I Dream of Jeannie impression. I wish you would never post again. BLINK!

Your daily dose of erotica can be found here by someone who describes himself by saying, “I am (obviously) a very attentive and skilled lover.” Duh, ladies.

Why doesn’t this guy just be a stripper and/or male escort and have done with it? I mean how often do you hear this from your contractors, “I own a computer repair company and I love the way it feels when I take my clothes off for ladies.” Is that a hard drive in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

What Five Minute Survey (… !!!) do you know of that has 47 questions, including:
21. What if I wanted to stay home and watch a movie with you?
40. Do you have a job?
43. Are you an awesome girlfriend?

Question number 40 is do you have a job? Really? Then he asks for responders to let him know if it took longer than 5 minutes. Genius.

Is this the new standard in dating posts? Posting lists or reams of questions in order to lull your prey - ermm…date into submission? This guys posts 86 rules about drinking, the last one being (I scrolled down), “86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.” Baby, I got bored after reading 5 of them. What makes you think, 1) someone would read all of them and 2) go out with you for five drinks?

I didn’t realize that someone would actually seek a redneck and put it in their title. Good news though, he’s the marrying kind. But you must be able to ride on the back of a Harley. Which is a very important skill.

What is a dizzy girl? Does she do bat spins and then saunter...um, stagger...up to you? While I’m sure that dizzy = ditzy, this is my favorite part of this post, “Rock n Roll is about salvation after the fire.” What does that even mean? Maybe he’s such a deep artist that I wouldn’t get him…*sigh*

Here's a guy who is good with the compliments - he wants a hot girl who drives a BMW, but then he goes on to say, "me personally, I would prefer not to buy that german trash." That will definitely score you points, my man. High five!

Anything with King Arthur in the title is going to grab my attention b/c I'm an Arthurian Legend fan. He claims he's Arthur looking for his Guinevere and woos his potential Guen by saying he has "strong sword wielding arms to hold you with" then that Guen should be "not too heavy for my horse". You know, Guinevere cheated on Arthur with Lancelot and was really in love with him. And actually, if you believe Chretien, kinda made Lance look like a jackass. Oh, and their affair kinda brought down the Arthurian empire. Think he knows that? Just sayin'...

After the Rain...

2007-10-09T16:37:00.000Z

Not really after the rain. More like after the move and the travel and the crazy. But I heard Nelson's "Love and Affection" on Jack FM yesterday morning and somehow "After the Rain" has taken over the wide open space that is my mind. Stupid Nelson twins. Damn you, Gunnar and Matt!

So what's happened the last couple of weeks?

I've packed.

I've fretted about packing and moving.

I've wondered how a 600 square foot apartment can hold so much crap.

I've thrown a lot of that crap out.

I moved, thanks to a moving company and to friends.

Then I found that still a lot of that crap was in the new apartment, and I sat amongst my boxes of things and wondered how in the world I could still have so much stuff.

I realized that having stuff to stock a complete kitchen and bar takes up a lot of space and many boxes.

I found out that my many, many books which I refuse to get rid of also take up many, many boxes.

I've unpacked. Although my "office" nook in my bedroom is still in shambles. The rest of the apartment is done save for that one area. Thankfully it's in a nook, so it's not assaulting my senses.

I've gained a roommate, Jay-Z.

I have not completely flipped out over having said roommate. It's been nice coming home and having someone to talk to, just about nothing.

I finally got to hang out with Average Jane, who helped construct Ikea furniture with me and Jay-Z.

I went to San Diego on a Thursday.

I wore sweaters in San Diego.

I got chastized and questioned for not having a boyfriend by a San Diego cab driver at 5:30 am. His accent and voice and mannerisms were like a cartoon character, prompting me to wonder if I was on some single woman candid camera.

I came back to DC on Saturday. Where I have been running my a/c at a constant 72 degrees or so.

I am slowly getting to hate flying.

I brought the dog home and she seems to have settled in.

I have just started catching up on blogs. You people write a lot. Stop making me think and/or look bad! Dammit.

I have two more trips this year. One next week for 4 days and then one in December. Since I've been to Chicago, I don't feel like I've stopped. I know that time has passed but I feel hard pressed to say anything I've done that was really of substance. I mean, of course moving is important, but that's something you have to do. It's not like I bought my first place or something.

Fall is supposedly on its way, and there are a host of things I'm looking forward to doing, some of those things being absolutely nothing at all except sitting in my UMD sweatshirt watching the Redskins. Definitely more writing, and reading for that matter. Since I didn't get a chance to kayak this summer, I'm going this weekend with Elle and her husband, and I think we're going to look for a last lone couple dozen steamed crabs to bid the summer goodbye.

Just a disjointed (and kinda crappy, sorry) catch up post to say hola. And I have a couple of posts in the pocket, but I'm also looking for post ideas so if you have them, I'm listening.

My Utterly Female Seinfeld-ian Monday Moment

2007-09-26T15:12:00.000Z

I'm going to go on the verge of TMI here, so premature apologies. You ladies will totally get it though.

Scene: Going home from work on a Monday evening. Annnnd...go!

It's the first day of my period, so I'm feeling terrible and looking like Bloaty McWaterpants. I'm schlumpy in flats (b/c my left foot is swollen from water retention and some other possible unknown issue), black pants (see the first sentence of this paragraph) and a stupid looking green shirt (just a bad wardrobe choice in the AM). Hair back in a frizzy ponytail b/c I didn't blowdry my hair the day before. Makeup worn off I'm sure. Zit on the right cheek (period strikes again!) Who do I pass? A friend of a friend. Despite the fact I have zero physical interest in him, he can actually dress himself and he looks nice with his aviators and work clothes. And what am I doing whilst looking so fabulous?

Scratching my nose.

I'm quite sure he thought I was picking.

I know he saw me, but chose not to stop. Which is fine, b/c I don't have much to say to him and wasn't in the mood. However -
IT WAS A SCRATCH! Not a pick.

Incidentally, that stretch of Connecticut Avenue is apparently my Boulevard of Broken Dreams, as I seem to see the strangest people there: my old horrible boss who I would escort down to hell myself and throw her to the demonic vultures; a guy I dated a year ago; oh, another guy I dated a year ago who lives in freaking GERMANTOWN - why are you in Dupont?; and now this friend of a friend. Who I really don't care too much about, but I don't exactly want him calling my friends saying, "Yo, Carrie? Want to know why she hasn't been out? I just saw her and let me just tell you..." But then again, why would I assume that 1, I am the center of the universe, and 2, that this person would cluck like a hen in a Looney Tunes sketch?

I maintain however, it was a scratch.

The (s)Hit List

2007-09-24T20:41:00.001Z

The Bitch is Back. And she's taking names. So watch it. For your amusement, I give you 5 things on my mind over the last few days in no particular order:

5. Yes, for the love of the baby jebus, I know that Heroes starts tonight. It's the season premiere. It's the coolest show ever in the whole wide world - nay, the universe. I get it. So shut up.

4. Along with the millions of dollars NBC is spending on ~~shoving Heroes down our throats~~ promoting its Monday night lineup, comes the new show Chuck:

4a. I might watch just based on the fact that I think Zach Levi is kinda hot.

4b. Since I'm not in the coveted 18-29-think-with-my-crotch demographic, I am sick to death of the hot hero chick. I'm all for powerful women, but I'm really, really tired of seeing them everywhere save the day b/c I know they got there only because they're hot.

3. I've come to the realization that moving is like your birthday. You find out who your real friends are.

2. Fall is supposedly here: you look outside and the shadows are longer, a few leaves are turning and falling, it's darker later in the morning and earlier in the evening. Then you go outside and sweat your ass off at 3 pm. Oh, and to all you cute little things who think you're hot shit in your coats at 8:30 am? Put a cardigan on. It's not that cold in the morning.

1. I had to break down last night and buy boxes at Staples for moving because I spent a total of 2 hours over the weekend begging for boxes. I managed to score 4 for free. FOUR. I would ask politely and they would look at me like I was asking for a kidney. It's a box people. How can you tell me that in this world of buying everything under the sun, you don't have BOXES to transport these little goodies? Do fairies come and drop them off overnight? Gnomes burrow from underground and put them in your stockroom? No. They come in BOXES. Give them up, jackasses. They're not gold and they won't get you into heaven.

Even Yahoo music is against me today - they have chosen today as REO Speedwagon day. Really, guys? REALLY?!

I'm going home and NOT watching Heroes. Take THAT, NBC!

Except I'll be back for SVU...and the Office...ahem...

Tales of the Overextended

2007-09-12T15:15:00.000Z

In a few hours, I will be on a plane to Chicago for 10 days, for the second of my two big business trips of the year. The last month has been a total whirlwind of work, mostly. A couple of fun events: throwing a surprise party for my friend Elle, where her husband and I had to go all Mission Impossible to pull the wool over her eyes. It was a rousing success. My father got married this past weekend, and poof. I have a new family, complete with stepmom, stepbrother and step sister. And my new roommate, Jay-Z and I, got our new apartment of which we move in the weekend of the 28th.

And since I find myself with an extra 30 minutes before I have to leave, I thought I'd stop for a coffee or get a new book...but then I realized I can do that at the airport. So I thought I'd blog since my blog has fallen by the wayside. I've stopped and started several posts, as I'm wanting to get back to writing regularly and because I almost always have something to say about something. And since I've missed two happy hours and other get togethers with (blog) friends, haven't gotten to read and comment as much as I'd like, here I am. Aren't you lucky?

Being completely swamped with work is tough, because I like my job, but I'm not curing cancer and it doesn't make me smile in the middle of night when I wake up and starting thinking about the to-do list or the projects I'm behind on. Although, I've gotten a lot better in that I don't have constant anxiety before these big events anymore. I'm also really, really hard on myself and find ways to berate my work and I try to figure out why I have fallen short of goals set by myself or others. And amongst all this, I'm wondering where my real place is in my job, in my career.

Outside of work, I haven't seen many of my friends. I haven't seen Jay-Z in like 2 weeks. I realized last night I hadn't even exchanged an email with another friend Kelsey in like 2 weeks. I haven't seen Average Jane in longer. Even Jo and I have been too busy to have lunch. I talk to my friend Co everyday, because there haven't been many days in the years of our long distance friendship where we don't talk at least on email everyday. And I see Elle and J at work everyday, and I think those three have helped me stay somewhat sane, although there was a period last week where the sanity was clearly questionable.

I have this really bad habit of looking at situations through crap covered glasses when I'm stressed out or when I'm feeling depressed (hence, the depression). Looking back over the last month or so, I feel like I've been up and down in being able to pull out the good stuff (like a major work crisis yesterday where I put a plan of action in motion before it was too late, and looking at the save as the good thing, not the mistake) and then only focus on the bad like realizing that a few of my able bodied friends who I would have recruited to help me move are busy on the big day, which automatically signals I have no friends and am therefore a loser. I mean, crazy stuff. I can literally step out of myself and see it, but I can't stop it.

Since several things are finally coming to a finale/fruition/culimination/whatever you want to call it, I find myself dwelling on the past far too much. And beating myself up for it. For example, I knew I was going to have to move, so why oh why haven't I been cleaning out my apartment until just last week? Why have I let myself collect more and more junk that I don't need? I hired movers to tackle the stress of figuring out how to get all this crap out of my three year old place. That helped, but I look around the mess that is my abode and want to slap the Carrie from three years ago. Silly girl that she was.

After I move into the new place, I go to San Diego for just two days the following weekend. I loathe flying across country. But after that, I think things start to settle down and I can get back to writing, to spending time with friends, to devoting Sundays to nothing but football. At least I'll get to go into the next few months with a sense of accomplishment, b/c there is a lot I will have finished.

So my eyes are on the prize.

Every Thorned Rose Has Its...Own Reality Show?

2007-09-04T20:15:00.000Z

On occasion, I find myself watching a particularly hideous (however not as hideous as others) show on the Reality TV Network, VH1, Rock of Love. Come journey with me as we go through this sad chapter in my TV watching life as this show is especially heartbreaking to me.

I’m not a fan of reality TV anymore. I used to watch a ton of it, and now I just can’t stand it except for Project Runway, and even that is grating sometimes. Remember, I even broke up with American Idol this year, the last bastion of my reality kick I’d had for years but have slowly been growing out of. But what’s the real kicker in Rock of Love? Besides the craptastic name? It’s the former love of my adolescent life, Bret Michaels. Yes, of the glam rock band Poison.

I can hear you all laughing (especially you, INPY and Arjewtino), and I resent it. And then the rest of you - you know you have stupid crushes in your adolescent history, so zip it! Just because Arjewtino's schoolboy crush grew up to be hot, and mine didn't doesn't mean...well, I don't know what it means. Just for kicks, I would like to point out the picture to the left, as I'm fairly certain that it was a centerfold from Metal Edge, but I'm positive that regardless of what kind of a size it came in - that it was on my wall as a teenager.

Since I was head over heels for Bret Michaels, I of course learned every little thing about him that I possibly could. And because my brain works in mysterious ways, some of these tidbits of information will never, ever leave my head. For instance…he’s from Harrisburg, PA. His birthday is March 15 (notice I don’t include the year, because I don’t know, and I’m honestly scared of whatever age he is now). His longtime girlfriend was Susie Hatton. I was watching an episode of Rock of Love and saw Bret jump up on his Harley. The very. Same. Harley. Davidson. He had. All. Those. Years. Ago. The Hollywood Taxi. In case you’re wondering what it looks like, it makes an appearance at the end of the Fallen Angel video, also of which, Susie Hatton is the star of. These little things that pop up make Rock of Love all that much stranger for me.

Now to the show…on this particular episode, Bret had three “superfans” interview his prey, I mean, the contestants. How did they get the job of superfan? They’re all friends with Bret, giving him advice, kissing him on the mouth to say goodbye. Where was this job when I was 15? Besides it being illegal for me at that age? Whatever, I totally looked older! Anyway, they chose this crazy tanned, bleach blonde woman to go on the private date with Bret. And he knows just where to take her: the tattoo parlor. Hott.

This bitch got Bret’s name tattooed on her neck. TATTOED. It was her first tattoo. She said that she really ‘stepped up her game’ and that ‘none of those other bitches would do this’ and my response to the magic box in my living room was a rousing, “BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT CRAZY!” She also said, sagely, “this shows I’m 100% committed to Bret.” Committed being the most important word in this statement.

I bet serious money that he doesn’t end up picking her in the end. I bet more money that he doesn’t end up forever with whoever he ends up picking. And after a quick look at Bret's official website, there are a bevy of women AND men who have committed his name to their skin forever. Where's the love for them? Do they get to make out with him?

I hate the catch phrases in this shows. I hate hearing Tyra Banks say “America’s Next Top Model” 17 times in 5 minutes while threatening unattractive, too skinny women and telling them that they have to flamenco for their life when they’re real models, like her. Everyone made fun of that woman who would say, “you ARE the weakest link. Goodbye!” and then all the elimination shows emulate it. Bret’s catch phrase is asking each skank-testant if they will stay and try to “rock his world.” Then proceeds to make out with them. Even the one he sends home, sometimes.

How can you sit there and watch a man make out with several other women in a night, IN FRONT OF YOU? I don’t know who is worth it. George Clooney, maybe…Clive Owen, Leonardo diCaprio. I mean, the list is short. And I assure you that Bret Michaels - who has probably seen more pussy than all the men combined on my block of my office here in DC as evidenced by the accompanying picture as those girls are in BIKINIS while he serenades them - is not on that list. Not even for me. Not anymore, anyway.

Then they crack open a “Bret Michaels” beer and Bret says in this particular episode, “There’s no crying in beer drinking.” Oh Bret, you are a clever one.

First and foremost, I loathe these kinds of shows. When I was in my early 20s, I used to watch Joe Millionaire and Average Joe. But the kind of competitiveness and just all around nastiness on the shows turns my stomach. Reality TV shows are made to bring out the absolute worst in people, especially when dealing with anything romantic. I realize that it makes excellent TV in that it’s a circus show/train wreck that you just have to watch to see what happens next, but I just don’t like watching the worst in people in that way.

I never watched the Bachelor, maybe because I hate to see women fighting over some idiot guy, who TV execs pick as either heinous losers or supposed Prince Charmings. The latter means they have to be good looking and rich, like an heir to a family fortune, the football hero, or literally a prince. The losers, they pick because they’re something they deem lowly like a construction worker or he’s just “average” because apparently, that’s a hurdle in finding someone special. Or at least it is when you’re amongst the models. Anytime you pick ANYone and you make a game of having him/her pick one person out of 20 to have some wonderful romance with, that instantly raises their stock. The contestants wouldn’t give two shits about them on any other day. But because there are 10 other women literally fighting over a man, he becomes the catch of the century.

Women are competitive. PEOPLE are competitive. I used to think that it was more of a female trait to hone in on the guy and make him into Prince Charming because he was a hot ticket. I thought men were better at just walking away saying, ‘she’s not for me’. But men are just as susceptible to this kind of thing, as evidenced by I Love New York, of which I watched a part of one episode and saw two grown men come to BLOWS over this woman.

If you dangle anything in front of a person and make it their sole purpose in life for a few weeks to attain that thing, they will go completely batshit crazy. I have seen grown men cry over not getting to be a stripper in another VH1 shows. Anyone who says women are irrational, I beg them to think of that example: men crying because becoming a stripper in the Thunder from Down Under is their ticket to success, and they might not get the chance.

We live in very strange pop cultural days in our Perez Hilton/celeb-envy nation, although I think (and hope) we’re past the Golden Age of Reality, where we’ll see mercifully fewer and fewer shows and hopefully the American Idol goliath will somehow lose steam. We see the worst in people everyday in other ways, and I’m tired of seeing it as evening entertainment where overtanned women compete over a washed up rockstar.

But the next time Poison comes to town, I would still totally go.

Need a Vacation after my Vacation

2007-08-30T17:12:00.001Z

I had a wonderful time at the beach, as it's pretty hard not to when you're surrounded by so many awesome things. No ridiculous stories to impart, as J and I pretty much kept to ourselves on the beach, biking around town, shopping. I ate both Thrashers fries and half a funnel cake, but no Grotto Pizza. However, I am golden brown and staring down the barrel of a long weekend, so those are good things.

Anyway. Coming back to reality effing sucks. So in the meantime, I posted some photos from the trip here.
Back to regularly scheduled programming...sometime. Soon-ish.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted...

2007-08-25T03:29:00.001Z

No work. Thrashers fries. Biking on the boardwalk in the morning. Falling asleep on the beach. Playing Whack a Mole for some silly stuffed animal. Grotto Pizza. The sound of the ocean.

Vacation, all I ever needed.

I'll be back on Wednesday or Thursday. And I'm sorry for being so behind on your lovely blogs - I've been working so much overtime (which I'm not paid for) just to GO on vacation, there hasn't been much time or brainpower to read and dazzle with witty comments. I'll catch you guys on the flip side.

"It's cheap! Like the budgie." *

2007-08-22T16:14:00.000Z

I loathe the word budget. I hate it at work: are we going to make budget? Carrie, are your budget figures ready? I hate it in life, as in I need to have one. I’ve always known how much money all my bills require, but I never sat down to figure out how much money I spend a month (or what I should budget) for fuel, for Starbucks, for groceries. I just sorta buy stuff.*

Which is asinine. As I have discovered. Putting all those numbers together in an Excel spreadsheet was alarming. The amount of money left over after all the essentials and some non-essentials deemed essential was even more alarming. $143. One hundred forty-three dollars. That is utterly pathetic. So it’s time to start cutting back.

Is fuel really necessary? Can I cut back? I take the metro for god’s sake, why am I filling up once a week? But no. I probably need the fuel. We all know Metro is expensive. It costs me $10.20 a day to get to and from work. Thankfully, I get a subsidy from work that gets me through about two weeks. The only way for me to save money on metro is take the bus to my stop instead of paying the $4 for parking. But I can’t imagine having to wait for a bus when I’m done with work – since patience is not one of my virtues? And plus, I’m not a big fan of the bus.

Okay, the real cutbacks. I left in the budget one lunch a week breakout from my homebrought lunch for when my colleague/friends J, Elle, and I take a sushi break or when I see my work neighbor Jo. But I took out all weeknight dinner takeouts. Which is going to hurt because I am good friends with the Lebanese Taverna Café. I can barely contemplate that. Average Jane suggested that I make a game of trying to recreate some of the meals I get at home. Not my definition of a “game”, but it’s still an excellent suggestion.

I left in the amount of money I spend at Starbucks. I go to Starbucks every single day. An iced venti sugar free vanilla skim latte. That’s $4.30 or something everyday. $130.30 a month - completely absurd. I came up with a solution: the $20 Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker (which also makes iced coffee), a bag of Starbucks coffee, and some fat free French vanilla Coffeemate which has crack as the active ingredient. I brought this to work so J and Elle can enjoy the homemade coffee goodness, although they’ll switch back to hot coffee in the winter, whereas I drink iced coffee all year round (I’m naturally warm blooded – and it’ll save me money on my gas bill in the winter!). So if I budget for the $6 bag of coffee twice a month and a Coffeemate bottle twice a month, I’m only spending $20 a month. I have a coffeemaker and cheapo coffee at my apartment, so I’ll budget in $7 a month for that refill with an additional Coffeemate (it’s the crack!). However, I think I’ll let myself have one Starbucks a weekend, so that’s $17.20.

And poof. I go from $134 to $44.20 a month. I’m so freaking smart.

Or not. Smart would be never getting to the point of where I went to Starbucks everyday and blew $130 a month on their devil c0ffee.

The next big ticket item? Rent. Apartment complexes aren’t too keen on negotiating, especially for less money on my 4th lease. So…I’m moving back in with a roommate. I’ve lived on my own in my glorious one bedroom apartment for 3 years, but I’m moving on out. I simply can’t afford to live on my own anymore which makes me feel a tad bit pathetic because my salary is decent, I work hard, I don’t have that much debt (but definitely have some because I was even more of an idiot 10 years ago. And 5 years ago.). But my moving in with someone, I’ll be saving between $350-$400 month. Did you hear me? ALMOST FOUR HUNDRED A MONTH.

Which cannot go into buying more stupid shit or picking up my Starbucks habit. It needs to go to paying off my debt and/or saving for buying a condo or townhouse.

There are only a couple people in the area that I would trust to live with, and I will be living with one of them: my friend as you’ve heard me refer to as my Wise Yellow Friend because I already have a J in my blog life, and a more well known Jo. I’ve decided to change her name to Jay-Z, and I suspect she might turn up more on the bloggy blog. She'll be bringing Tivo into my life finally, which I suspect will help pass the time I'll be spending at home saving money.

I was initially hesitant about doing this because I really love to live on my own. We’ve found a great place and provided that we get approved and provided I can actually get three years worth of my crap out of my apartment in a short period of time b/c they can only hold the apartment till September 22, we’ll be all set. Oh by the way, I’m going on vacation from Saturday-Wednesday and then I leave for a work trip from September 12-21st which completely kicks my ass. So yeah, if I count you as a friend and you live near me, I might be calling on you.

Consider yourself warned. And you might be looking at the thriftiest person on earth.

I can hear you laughing! That’s okay, I’m laughing too. I’m funny like that. Next up, getting a better cell phone plan to save money. Watch out, Sprint...
* Anyone know where this is from? Impress me!

**I must nod to the much missed Brunch Bird, who has regaled us with stories of her budget cutbacks. I remember reading those posts and thinking I should follow in her footsteps. Months later, I’m trying.

Date Update II

2007-08-20T14:48:00.000Z

The Friday Night Date. I know the five of you who actually give a shit are dying to know, right?! Yeah, right. Anyway...it was fun. I had a very good time. I'll break it down in goods and bads.

Good: He's very much like his emails, which I thought was a plus b/c I dug his sense of humor/sarcasm.

Bad: I was late. By like 5 minutes, but I still felt like a jerk.

Good: Easy conversation. Only a couple of very short silences.

Great: He paid for dinner. Folks, I can't tell you the last time a date paid for a meal or even for drinks. With N, he paid for our last date by mistake b/c they charged his card twice instead of mine for the other half of the bill. I always, always, ALWAYS offer and expect to pay my portion. But there used to be a time where the guy would pick up the check on instinct. This is another post in and of itself, really. I don't hold it against a guy who doesn't pay, but it always stands out when they do.

Good: Went for a couple of beers after dinner, and decided to do something this week before I go to the beach.

The uncertain/bad: as always, I'm not really sure of my attraction levels. I can't tell you the last time I went out with someone where I could say, 'yeah, he's really cute'. As horrible is this is going to sound, I date average looking men. Because I really do believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that average looking men can be more themselves than above-average looking men. So if I believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, why did I bring it up? Because attraction is a very personal thing. It's always something that confuses me. Always.

In other news - bachelor #2 turned up again, apologizing for his absence. He's been on a business trip, then vacation and ended up extending his vacation and was in a place with no email. Many apologies. Said he hoped I didn't think he was ignoring me. Still wants to get together. I'm not exactly sure what to do, but leaning towards going. That is, if he makes the effort when he gets back into town. I dunno.

There you have it. Date #2 coming up this week sometime.

Easy Eight + Date Update

2007-08-15T02:53:00.000Z

I got tagged by my fellow Rockvillians to share 8 things about myself. I'm not going to tag anyone, but feel free to share 8 wonderful things about yourself if you'd like.

1. I love to sing, and I have a decent voice. I've always been into music, and since I was a teenager, I always dreamed about getting asked up onstage to sing with whoever my favorite band at the time was. In 2004, I finally got my wish. I got to sing onstage with Bob Schneider, one of my very favorite artists ever, in a little bar in Denton, TX for the woman's part on a song called "Round and Round." It's still one of the top moments so far in my life.

2. While in "real" life, I am the most attracted to men who look like they're in their late 20s/early 30s. I say "real" life because if a man looks like he's around 40 and is a potential romantic interest, it flips me out, like I'd be dating an actual grown up. Strange, I know.

3. However, I'm wildy attracted to 40 something celebrities like King George Clooney, Jason Isaacs, Christopher Meloni, Clive Owen, and Aaron Eckhart. Decidedly NOT Brad Pitt.

4. I have a knack for remembering, and imitating, funny lines in movies and TV shows. I love randomly saying these lines to my friend J because she thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. I could literally recite Ghostbusters, the Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, most of Sixteen Candles, etc. etc. Every episode of Friends is committed to memory. And so on.

5. I won my first cell phone from the now defunct 99.1 WHFS. Apparently, they called my name out on the radio and a guy at the office I had just started working in told me.

6. I always take notice of traffic signal patterns and usually commit them to memory, so I know that if I hit a certain red light or similar, I'll know what's coming up after and adjust my speed accordingly. Same thing with lights in DC - I know when I can walk, if I see a certain light turn at a certain time I know I have X amount of time to get across or that I've just missed my walk opportunity.

7. I hate Nirvana. Which is like 90s music blasphemy, but oh well. Suck it!

8. I kept my tattoos a secret from my father for 10 years. One is a fairy on the back of my shoulder and the other a big Celtic knot on my back.

Date Update

It's funny. Last week, I was talking to three guys. This week, I'm talking to one. Bachelor #1, who I didn't mention in my last post, asked me to get together but then informed me his schedule was packed that week. I said no worries, just let me know what works for you. We exchanged a couple of short emails over the next few days. Then nothing. Guess what, baby. I ain't chasing. I may be a 30 year old single woman who wants a boyfriend, but I'm not running.

Bachelor #2 was on vacation and we exchanged some emails while he was away. He said that he was very much enjoying talking to me, etc. etc. would I like to get together this week when he came back. I said sure, how about Wednesday or Thursday. It is now Wednesday and nothing. So I made plans for tonight and tomorrow night. The question is, *if* he pops up again, do I go out with him?

Bachelor #3 is the guy whose date is confirmed, and it was as of this past weekend. I suggested drinks at the Brickskeller and he asked for dinner instead. For some reason I think this is a good thing, that he's not planning his escape early or something. Of course I went out with someone last year for dinner, and he informed me halfway through that he had plans to go to a movie with a friend. I was all dressed up with nowhere to go at 8:30 on a Saturday night. Thanks, buddy. Anyway.

Bachelor #3 and I are going to one of my favorite restaurants in DC. I was initially turned onto it from an excellent first date a few years ago. Although me and that guy didn't work out, let's hope for good Carrie dating karma/luck/juju striking again.

I'm actually the most excited about bachelor #3. He's hilarious, into pop culture, is a 'doer' and when I say that I mean not like an ambitious corporate ladder climber, but likes to be active in *doing* things. Not going to the gym like a crazy person, but just getting his hands dirty and trying new things. He's actually learning how to weld right now b/c he thought it sounded interesting. He's a little geeky, which I dig. He's a Simon Pegg fan which I dig even more. I shared a funny website with him (http://www.perpetualkid.com/) and he was as enthralled with it as I was. He told me about a ninja catapult he wanted to get as an office toy and his statement to me was: "Did you hear what I said? It fucking shoots ninjas!"

I find this strangely endearing. Maybe because it makes me believe that yes, he is actually funny, and he doesn't take everything so seriously and can get entertainment out of stupid shit like I do.

Or maybe I'm just being a stupid girl.

Now...what the hell am I going to wear?

“I’m not perfect, but who are we kidding, neither are you.”

2007-08-13T14:08:00.000Z

Ah, first dates. There's nothing like them. I've had my share of bad ones. You've had your share of bad ones. Hopefully we've had a few good ones between us. Over the next week, I might find myself on two first dates with two men I've been talking to from...wait for it...Craigslist. One who responded to my ad (and it's gone, so don't even try to look for it) and one I responded to on a blog fodder mining mission. I have one lined up and the other isn’t confirmed. They say dating is a numbers game. Let’s hope I can keep at least one of them.

If only we could have full relationships over email. I mean, these guys are great on email. Lots to talk about. Funny. They get my sense of humor without me having to use a load of ridiculous emoticons. Interesting. I can assume the best about them. I don't have to worry about laughing too loudly or having spinach in my teeth.

But alas. It can't go on like that. In my endless cycle of thoughts, I started to think about good and bad date options. Since I'm an old maid...erm, hat...when it comes to online dating, a first 'date' consists of drinks about 90% of the time because you can make drinks be as short or as long as you want. Short in that if it's just not working, you can have your two drink minimum and beat it.

I went out once with a guy and we just weren't clicking. He said something about Duke and I asked him where he went to college. Duke. He asked me where I went to college. Maryland. We finished our beers and that was the end of it. Good drink dates can be extended to dinner or whatever. My other general rule is that I always meet a guy at said date location. I don't get picked up. Sure, so they don't see where I live, but mostly so I have control over when I can get the hell outta Dodge.

Anyway, a menu of first dates and their pros and cons.

Dinner and a Movie - The 'classic' (and boring) first date. I've always seen this as a good date a few dates in. When you're obviously getting along with a person and comfortable and you get to see a movie (if you like seeing movies, which I do). As for a first date, not so much. What if he's awful? And then you're stuck with him for 3 hours MINIMUM. Not only do you have to suffer through dinner, but then you have to sit next to someone for another 2-3 hours, trying not to touch b/c it could be uncomfortable, or you might be afraid his annoying can jump over in the form of cooties.

Dinner – Another classic and somewhat unoriginal date, but I’m not knocking it. I love to go out to dinner. This is my usual second date after I’ve established I can carry on a conversation with a person and I don’t want to stick a fork in his eye. The cons? The guy could be a douche. The one and only time I’ve ever been brought flowers on a first date, I was meeting a guy at the Cheesecake Factory. He brought me a single rose, wrapped in plastic like you’d find at 7-11. But it was a nice gesture. Great. We sit down, order a drink. I got a Sam Adams. He got a Flying Gorilla. Something with ice cream, Bailey’s and banana liquer. Sample dinner conversation:

Him: What kind of music do you listen to?
Me: I’m a big U2 fan, Sarah McLachlan, classic rock like Zepplin and the Eagles. You?
Him (with a mouthful of bowtie pasta): Vanessa Carlton and Nelly Furtado all the way.

When he emailed me to ask me out again I said thanks, but I didn’t think we were clicking. Good luck. His response?

Whatever, I’m engaged anyway.

I didn’t ask if it was to a man. I thought it was a safe assumption.

Bowling – I love to go bowling. I think it’s a fun group of friends outing. Cheap beer and bar food (b/c fuck Lucky Strike, that place is ridiculous. I don’t want a martini when I’m bowling, I want a pitcher when I’m wearing shoes that 100s of other women have worn.). A bowling date has potential to be all kinds of fun b/c there can be lots of good natured ribbing, just generally being funny/goofy because I don’t think the bowling alley is where you have deep conversation. The con? You might not have a chance to actually talk because if it’s just the two of you, he bowls, you bowls, etc. Not a lot of time to interact. However, this could be a pro if he’s a tool.

Fair – I love the fair. Who doesn’t? Well, I used to love the fair when I was younger. I went a few years ago and it had lost some of its luster. However, I still love the fair games, the funnel cakes, the ferris wheel. I like seeing all the animals, even if they are smelly. Another opportunity to be silly together and have other things to focus on besides being nervous. The cons? It’s summer and so it’s probably going to be hot. Sweaty Carrie? Not my best look. And funnel cake is usually laden (as well it should be) with powdered sugar. I have been blessed with a sizeable rack that doubles as a shelf and Powdered Sugar Carrie? Not my best look either. Also, I’m not sure what the good getaway excuse would be.

Baseball Game – I’m not a big baseball fan, but I do enjoy going to games. Although at the last one I went to, I didn’t watch a whole lot of it. But I had a hell of a time talking to friends. There’s good opportunity to drink and talk, but still have distractions so if you don’t enjoy, you don’t have to talk. Again, the excuse to leave if you’re not digging it is a bit harder to find. On a very, very bad date to an O’s game once, I excused myself to the ladies’ room where I proceeded to call my two friends to tell them I was out with a huge asshole – on his cell phone all the time and this was like 5 years ago before we all had cell phones attached to our heads at all times – he’d insulted womenkind within 5 minutes of meeting me, he name dropped that the seats he had belonged to someone famous. I just wasn’t digging it. My friends told me that I should just leave. I should have listened. I stuck it out the rest of the night, where I was lucky enough to meet his friends, one of them a married guy who made a big show of commenting on any woman he saw and said he wanted to ‘tap that ass’ or something. I proceeded to call him out as a dick. That made me popular. It was an awesome night all around.

Kayaking – My friends got me into kayaking last summer. It’s surprisingly easy in calm water. You just get in the damn thing and paddle. I thought this could be something different to do, certainly something to focus on besides being nervous. Opportunity to talk, or not. A great excuse to be in Georgetown without spending $7 a beer at some bar with college kids, a nice way to see some really nice parts of DC. It can be limited to an hour if you’re renting. Cons? Getting in and out of a kayak is not graceful. I’ve had to flop myself up onto the dock like a salmon on more than one occasion. Again, there’s the option of going to get a drink or food after.

Concerts – A 9:30 club/Black Cat concert date has great potential to be awesome. You can meet for drinks, hopefully enjoy a good show without having to spend hours getting to and from the place. If your date is boring, you can just say you’re listening to the music instead of wanting to talk. I don’t recommend big venue concerts like Merriweather or Nissan because you’re insuring you’ll have to drive together. It takes forever to get to either of those places, and then to leave. Why? Because Nissan is where the demons in hell catch concerts and since there is a noise ordinance they and their devil leader want the rest of us to suffer along with them. If you’re not getting along on your date, that is a LONG time to be with one person. I know because I went to see Dave Matthews at Nissan with the most annoying man in the world. He had a porn mustache, which I hate with a passion. And anytime he opened his mouth, it was a struggle for me NOT to roll my eyes and/or find a blunt object to beat him silly with.

Good dates, for me, don't have much to do with the activity and more to do with the person. If I'm with someone I enjoy spending time with, then it's a good time no matter what. Too bad finding that guy is like trying to find the holy grail.

- Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left.
- Yes I have!
- LOOK!
- It's but a flesh wound!

Pride: In the Name of Love

2007-08-07T13:48:00.000Z

It's funny how one sentence from someone can put you on your heels.

Amy Cohen, the author of the great book, the Late Bloomers' Revolution, commented that my grandfather must have been and still is so proud of me. The thought of my grandfather sometimes still brings tears to my eyes. I still miss him, of course. I'll probably never stop missing him, but the missing will probably manifest itself differently over the years.

That Amy said that to me is a high compliment, and something I very much appreciated. But it made me stop and wonder - was he proud of me? Is he proud of me? The obvious answer is yes. I never had to go to rehab or was committed to a mental institution (I'm still amazed by that one sometimes), I never had to be bailed out of jail, blah blah blah I was/am a good girl. But my life has always been what it should be: go to school. Get good grades. Get into a good college. (well, I don't know that my freshman year University was that great, but I did get a scholarship and I did graduate from a good college) Graduate in 4 years. More good grades. Travel. Get a job. Move up the ladder. Get a career. Establish yourself in your career. Move out and live on your own. The only missing from that narrow life view is: Find someone. Get married. Buy a house. Have kids.

The fact that the last few things are still part of our life view of what we "should" do is amazing. We obviously live in completely different times where women don't go to secretary school and get pinned then married out of high school. And one of the things I liked so much about Amy's book, about her story, was that happily ever after doesn't have to be find Prince(ss) Charming and you're done. I don't believe that it is. I mean, what if you do find Mr/Ms Wonderful and get married, and then what? You're done? Isn't there something else?

Don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that getting married and having children is a mistake and that if you do, you are automatically sentenced to complacency. But sometimes it seems that's where the story ends in that simplistic timeline of what you should do with your life. Have kids. Retire. Play golf. Seriously? What if you don't want to have kids? What if you don't find Mr/Ms Right? Like me. I haven't done that, obviously. I can't even find Mr. Right Now. Or Mr. Good Date on a Friday Night. So why do I wonder whether or not my grandfather (or my mom and dad for that matter) is proud of me?

At my last job, we had this monthly mangers' meeting and once they asked us to go round the room and tell everyone what we considered to be our greatest acheivement. About 40-50% of the women in the room said that it was getting married. Huh? I don't think that defines a person, and I also don't think that getting married is an accomplishment. It's important, yes. It's a milestone. It's a blessing (hopefully). But an accomplishment? That wedding cake topper of a bride doing the victory stance turns my stomach.
So I don't even believe in it but because finding even a decent relationship has been such a chore for me throughout my life, I feel like since it's the one thing I haven't seem to get the hang of, it's the percieved missing piece. It's the thing that would keep my family from being proud of me.

That's ridiculous. I mean, when you look at it in print, it's just...ridiculous. Absurd. It's human nature to want to have someone in your life. For so many reasons. After my dad split up with his second wife, at the age of 52, I was worried about him being on his own. He was (is) perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But the thought of him being on his own all the time and making some sad boxed dinner just broke my heart for some reason. It was his choice to split up, it was his choice to be on his own. But I still worried. He has since met someone else and is getting married in September, and now I almost never worry about him.

I worried when Grandpa was dying and when he was gone because he had lost both of his parents, and of the enormity of the task of the estate. But I knew he had his fiancee by his side, and me for that matter. I worry about my mother endlessly when my stepdad is out of town, which isn't all that often. When I'm around my mom outside of the house, I feel like I'm her bodyguard, always watching out for people, things, whatever. It's ridiculous!

I worry about myself as my parents get older. I'm an only child, so there won't be anyone to help me with my parents (all four of them). Emotionally. Financially. Unless I get married. Because by then, all my friends will have their families to worry about. That is terrifying to me. But hopefully, not really right around the corner.

I wonder if my parents (and therefore grandparents used to) worry about me in the same way. That I won't have anyone to automatically lean on, to take care of, to take care of me. Clearly, I can take care of myself. Well, mostly. I realize, when I'm thinking more rationally, that the fact I can take care of myself is one of the reasons why they are in fact proud of me. Among other things.

But isn't it funny how something like that can make me wonder if the people who love me most in this world lose their pride in me simply b/c I'm not coupled off? It hasn't defined me yet, why should it start now? I hate that I'm scared of being alone forever. But then I remind myself that I haven't attached myself to some old carbunckle of a man just to have someone because I'm okay to be on my own.

And I also remember that I was raised by some pretty amazing people who didn't raise no fool.

An Interview with an Up and Coming Author, Amy Cohen

2007-08-01T18:08:00.000Z

Several weeks ago, publishers of a new book, The Late Bloomer's Revolution by Amy Cohen, emailed me asking me to read the book and do an email "interview" with the author. The book sounded intriguing to me because in some ways, I'm still waiting to bloom myself, so I said yes.

You can read the Amazon description of her book here, but in my own words, the book is the memoir of a woman who found her life practically turned upside down at the age of 31: her mother died after her last battle with cancer, the man she reasonably thought she would marry had broken up with her, she was fired from her TV writing job, and she got a horrible rash on her face which precluded her from even really leaving her apartment for months. The combination of these things made her ask a lot of questions, weather a lot of set-ups from her friends and family, forge a closer relationship with her father with whom she had conducted her relationship mostly through her mother as in Dad's-a-part-of-Mom rather than individually, and awesomely, she decided to learn to do things she had always been too afraid of. Traveling on her own to Cuba, learning how to ride a bike at the age of 35, facing her ex and his new wife. The best part? Amy is hilarious.

I've spent most of my adult life boyfriend-less. It makes me feel like a freak on the bad days. On the good days, it's not something that I let define me and I enjoy the pretty good life I've built for myself and that I share with wonderful people like my friends and family. Amy's memoir helps to remind someone that it's never too late for anything. And for those of us who might worry about being single more often than not, there's more to life than being single or being coupled. Her happily ever after isn't traditional, which doesn't make it tragic or any more poignant. It's a different happily ever after, ending with a person happy with themselves as an individual. And that's something I hope every person would feel regardless of where they end up with in life.

I'd recommend the book to anyone, because you will laugh out loud more often than not, and you'll have some great things to reflect on. It's not your everyday I-am-woman-hear-me-roar/embrace-your-inner-cat-woman singleton book. It's just good stuff for everyone. It reminds us all, that no matter how old we are, it's not too late to become what we want (with apologies to George Eliot for badly ripping off his famous quote). And now, the questions Amy answered for me. Thank you Amy, for a great book!

Q: Where do you think the notion of it being absolutely necessary to pair off comes from? The fact that a person’s life doesn’t seem complete unless there’s someone in it in the “boyfriend” role?

A: Well, it is the norm in much of the world. When I went to Cuba, and told people that I was thirty-six and never married, they looked at me as if I were a cyclops. Divorced they understood, even twice or three times divorced, but NEVER married? What was that? Finally someone said, “are ju a woman who likes womans?” And I said no. And then they were even more stumped. They just couldn’t understand that I simply hadn’t found the right person or more accurately, that I’d kept on finding the wrong person. I think the part about feeling complete, though, comes from within and for that, I’m guilty. For too long I felt like there was something wrong with me and that’s why I hadn’t found love.

Q: Has your family and friends backed off of setting you up with any single man they can find?

A: Well, now they’re a little of afraid of me, which took hard work to achieve, since I’m not exactly very scary. My sister still calls and says, “Turn on the TODAY show! There’s a really cute guy and he’s a writer and he’d be perfect for you!” And then I’ll turn on the TV and say, “Hol, he wrote a book on adopting children with his life partner,” and she’ll say, “Gay? Really? I can never tell.”

Stuff like that. But I know they have my best interests at heart.

Q: If you could re-work the social/professional expectations that people have, in that it’s mostly expected that we graduate college, get the first job, move up and up, settle down, have kids and get old, what would it be?

A: What a fantastic question. In some ways, I’m shocked that we still care about the old, timeworn idea of what we “should” be doing at certain ages. I’m really hoping there’s a movement afoot to redefine when things “should” happen, if only because of science, which is allowing us not only to live longer(which means you can have your mid-life crisis at a later age and decide you need to change everything about your life), but also to have children older. I think what’s so great about America is that we have so many choices. It’s actually kind of fascinating with so many choices that we all still subscribe to a certain path as being correct.

Q: You noted that in the movie Spellbound, even though all the kids had worked hard and done what they were supposed to, it all came down to just dumb luck. This can of course be applied to finding a romantic relationship. Do you believe that?

A: I actually find the concept of luck very comforting because it’s saying “There’s nothing wrong with me or anything I’ve done or haven’t done, it’s just luck, like anything else.” You’re lucky with health. With how you’re born. But I had one friend get really incensed about my theory of luck, saying, “that’s terrifying, because that makes me feel like there’s nothing I can do and I just have to wait for luck to come my way.” By the way, the woman who said that? Married at forty-six to an incredible man and gave birth to twin boys at forty-seven. That’s some nice luck if you ask me.

Q: Are you still hoping to find someone, or are you content? Or do you think the two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive?

A: The truth is I love having a boyfriend, but not because I don’t like being alone (I do), I just love having a boyfriend. The right one, of course. The wrong one is the worst (please refer to Amy Cohen, 41 and still single.)

Q: You mentioned that you had been someone who defined themselves by her boyfriends. How do you define yourself now?

A: I think maybe I’ve learned not to define myself. I mean, I think I’m a nice person. I’m a hardworking person. I love my family. But then there are all these labels and I’m not sure what they mean. Like someone called me an “artist” the other day at dinner and I practically choked on my sushi, because it seemed like such a huge responsibility. Somehow so much bigger than putting words on a page. And sure I’m “single,” but does that word define me? Well, I’m happy to say, not anymore.

Q: After all this, do you feel like you have bloomed? I realize that’s the point of the book, but I wonder what kind of flower, or whatever, you see yourself as now.

A: About eight months ago, my cousin gave me a plant. And I hate plants. When I was growing up my mother had all these lethargic, anorexic plants and all they did was collect flying bugs. It was like an entomologist convention in our kitchen. So when my cousin gave me this plant I said, “thank you so much!,” but what I was really thinking was, “Yeesh. When will it just die.”

I completely neglected that plant. I never watered it. I left it by a nice, sunny window, but that was it. And then, it just started thriving. Almost in spite of me.

And that’s how I feel about myself. Like I was this plant who could have easily shriveled up and in spite of everything, I blossomed.

Now my little plant has become my little friend. I have no pets – no dogs or cats, but I have my sweet, healthy little plant. It’s this amazing, resilient little tree now, sprouting various wings of vibrant green leaves.

Q: Do you believe what your ex boyfriend said about you viewing your life as an outsider? For what it’s worth, the very existence of your book and the warm welcome it’s received is proof positive that you’re not alone, in my opinion.

A: Oh absolutely I see myself as an outsider. There’s a part of me that thinks that’s why I could survive for so long without finding someone, because I’ve defined myself as alone, even when I was with someone.
My mom was sick a lot as I was growing up and my brother and sister were a little older, so I was always expected to know how to keep myself occupied. Plus, I was always really shy and uncomfortable with other kids. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty social now and love to host game nights as often as possible, but there’ll always be an outsider in me. Without question. I think that’s probably why I write, to always ask, is it just me?

Q: For anyone reading your book, what do you hope they take away from it?

A: The response has been so incredible and I’m so touched and thrilled by all the letters I’ve gotten. I think that’s why it takes me time to write everyone back. They’ve shared such intimate things with me and I feel honored and want to let them know in a way that reflects that. People have written me about losing parents. Or feeling like they’re the only single person left. Others have told me about their relationships with their fathers. Or how they feel like Late Bloomers and how comforting it is to have a term and a book for it. So basically, I’m happy for anyone to take anything from the book. I think that’s the thing I love most about memoirs myself, that you create a relationship with the writer based on something you relate to. Honestly, I’m just so happy and grateful people are reading the book, they can come away with whatever they want.

Summer Lovin'

2007-07-31T01:48:00.000Z

And we're back. I spent a great few days with my girl Co down south, who I haven't seen since January. We watched Little Britain and laughed like idiots together. I got to enjoy Sonic. I'm sure moody Carrie will be back in no time - she came out to play yesterday while sitting on an airplane on the runway for THREE HOURS in Dallas on an 80 degree plane before the 3.5 flight back.

Anyway. I used to hate summer when I was younger. Not when I was a kid, because that meant no school and playing outside all day and not having to come inside till the streetlamps turned on. Which was late because it was summertime. But then I got older and no longer had summer vacations as a poor early/mid 20something. It was hot. I was hot all the time. I had no pool to enjoy, and no money to go on vacation anywhere.

But over the last few years, I've come to realize how much I love the summer. I'm not such a fan of the humidity, that's for sure. But after spending the last 5 days in Louisiana, we don't have it so bad really. What I do love about summer is that I go for months without having to put socks on. It's light when I wake up and when I come home from work, even if it's at 7. Grilling out. Hard shell crabs. Driving my mom's convertible with the top down. Kickin' it by the pool and the tan I get. Summer reading where I devour three books in less than 10 days - for some reason The Lovely Bones is better enjoyed at dusk in the warm weather. There's almost always a chance of thunderstorms. And there's almost always a chance for one of those amazing summer nights where you have to spend it outside - on your balcony with some wine, on the patio of a bar with a heiffeweizen, on the steps by Starbucks and your iced latte, driving in your car listening to music.

As I was dancing - yes, dancing b/c I'm awesome - in my car tonight, I thought about my current summertime mix. In the spirit of the Hipster Dork, here's my Summertime Mix 2007:

Summertime - DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince This song will forever be on my summer mixes. Even though it scares me that it's now considered a classic, it kinda is.

Valerie - Mark Ronson featuring Amy Winehouse It's like a modern day version of Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves (which, by the way, only makes me think of Look Who's Talking). Yes, it's an old song, and yes, Amy W is crazier and more effed up than a cokehouse rat, but goddamn. You can't help but shake your ass when this song is on.

Put Your Records On - Corrinne Bailey Rae CBR is like a little bit of a more upbeat version of Norah Jones. This song makes me smile, and it has that lazy summer feeling that I equate with sunlight streaming through the trees late afternoon of a lazy day.

Peaceful Easy Feeling - The Eagles I'm a classic rock girl, thanks to my dad. This is another almost-dusk/early evening driving songs.

Learning to Fly - Pink Floyd My stepfather used to listen to Pink Floyd in my formative years. When I was too young to insist that we listen to MY shit and my shit only. And to be honest, during those years too. There's something about Pink Floyd that's always felt at home with me.

Summer Breeze - Jason Mraz I'm a big Jason Mraz fan, and I prefer his version over the original. If this song doesn't scream summer, I don't know what does. This is one that I listen to on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and winding down.

LDN - Lily Allen I dare you to not to dance to this song. I'm physically incapable of it. I'm pretty sure that while I was on my Harry Potter sabbatical and I had my iPod on riding the metro, I was shimmying my shoulders in a crowded train.

Lost Without U - Robin Thicke It took me a little while to get on board the Robin Thicke train. But I'm on. I only think about Jason Seaver about 30% of the time when I see pictures of Robin. I'm a big fan of men singing in falsetto and well, how can I not like the album? And the guitar and rhythm along with it. I'm a sucker for a great beat/hook and a voice.

I Don't Feel Like Dancing - Scissor Sisters Another song that I can't keep still when it's on. This song also reminds me of my friend Kelsey who loves the SS, and singing "My heart could take a chance but my two feet can't take the chance" and "Don't feel like dancing, dancing/how can I break it down when I'm not in the mood?" at the top of our (bad) falsettos.

Cuts Like a Knife - Bryan Adams Gotcha, thought I was going to say Summer of '69, didn't ya?! Well, that's a classic. But this is my favorite Bryan Adams song for some reason. Maybe I just like to sing "na na naaaaaa, na na na na naaaaa na na". Or something. And it sounds better in the summertime.

It's Oh So Quiet - Bjork Yeah, I think Bjork is just as crazy as ever, however, I love the big band/horn "You Fall in love...zim booom" part. I feel like I should be out in the meadow with all manner of wildlife with a parasol shushing people then kicking out my legs. Well, not really. Was that in the video? Because, seriously, that's the visual I get during the song. Regardless, I still love it.

Modern Love - David Bowie My favorite Bowie song ever, probably. Another one that falls into the can't-help-but-shake-your-ass category.

Over the Hills and Far Away - Led Zepplin Led Zep is one of my favorite bands. Ever. I used to love to drive the windy country roads back by my parents house listening to this song. I still do.

Sledgehammer - Peter Gabriel I used to hate this song when I was younger. I think the video flipped me out, and then it was just so overplayed that I got sick of it, much like Higher Love by Steve Winwood (I associate the two together for some reason, don't ask me why). As I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate this song more and it just works blaring from the stereo with the windows down.

I'm sure I could go on and on, and I'm sure that when you guys put your summer songs in the comments I'll be all "oh yeah!" And then have a bunch of stuff to download and CDs to make. And I realize this is a bit heavy on music from across the pond, but what can I say? I'm a bit of an Anglophile I suppose. But I like our summers better.

Happy Summer, everyone.

It's the Little Things That Kill

2007-07-24T19:33:00.000Z

Seriously. I am not known for my mild, unchanging temperment. Is it something I should brag about? Not really. And I'm not really bragging, I'm just being honest. I'm moody. And when I'm busy or my buttons are pushed, I'm downright bitchy.
Since I'm full of piss and vinegar and want to share the hate, I bring you The Things That Piss Me Off Right Now (Besides Michael Vick).

1. I have a vendor who I work with, and she's very nice. Love her. Except when she calls me and leaves me voicemails, it goes something like this:
"Hi Carrie, this is Jane Doe with Acme Inc, and I was calling, Carrie, because I needed to speak with you about the email I sent. You indicated your preference of one letter over the other, but can you specify which letter you meant, Carrie? Or if you find it convenient, Carrie, you can call me when you get a chance at 555-555-5555. Thanks, Carrie!"

I'm fine with my name. But I find that the age old expression of "that's my name, don't wear it out!" is especially appropriate here. Professional? Not so much. Not sure that I really care though.

2. Since my procurement of the new Harry Potter book, I have found myself inexplicably busy. I mean, only able to dedicate an hour or so here or there to read. However, I'm asked at least three times a day by the same people daily "have you finished the book?" I'm not a slow reader. However, I feel like Sally the Special Girl in comparison to the hoardes of people who have already finished it. I just asked my co-worker and he said haughtily, "Oh, I'm on my THIRD reading."

The one time where actually having a life gets into the way of being a geek. Who knew?

3. In relation to Harry Potter, I also know a lot of people who don't read the books. I have found myself more in their presence than fellow HP geeks, I guess b/c the fellow geeks got the owl that said "Don't go out till you're finished. Love, Harry, Ron and Hermione". Anyway, these people think the idea of jackasses ruining the ending of the book is a regular laugh riot. If one more person makes a joke about the ending of the book, I swear I'm going to smack them with my copy of the Deathly Hallows. Fun things I've heard so far:

- Harry is really Voldemort's son;
- Harry turns out to be gay with Ron;
- Everyone dies;
- Rowling is thinking about writing another book (but not ABOUT Harry, you gits.);
- No one is really dead.

And so on. Seriously, shut. the. fuck. up. It's not funny. You're not funny. I don't want to know. And the fact that you STILL think it's hilarious is just irritating me to no end. Shut. Up.

I'm taking it a bit to the extreme in that I'm hardly reading blogs, I'm not reading Express, I'm not listening to the radio, I only get on the metro with my iPod on, b/c I don't want to hear anything. But for reals. Just leave it be.

4. Stupid questions. People not thinking about the things that come out of their mouths. I had a client call me and ask if they could give out some specialized everyday product. I said sure. Then they asked me where to get them. REALLY? Why don't you just send me your to-do list while you're at it?

5. Either saying how awesome or how shiteous Transformers the movie is. I happened to enjoy it, but yes. We all know Michael Bay is Hollywood's reincarnation of the devil and/or living proof that idle hands are the devil's playground and yes, they went for lame laughs, but come on. ARE YOU NEW HERE? That kind of stuff sells. Sad, but true. Or, just let your brain melt a little bit when you watch it. Surely, it needs the break. And for the other end, yes it was cool when Optimus Prime appeared for the first time. And the hot girl in the movie. Whatever, dude, we got it. I enjoyed it. Shut up.

I'm sure there are loads of additional things I could put here. However, I'll take my own advice and shut the eff up myself.

And for anyone who is wondering, I've just been busy, traveling, and otherwise uninspired to write/read much/comment/etc. lately. I'm going on vacation this week though, so I will recharge my snark batteries and return to regularly scheduled programming shortly.

Ah well . . . wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Okay, let's go.

2007-07-12T03:35:00.000Z

Like most of the free world, I’m gripped with Harry Potter fever. I don’t really care how dorky some people think it is. And I’m actually surprised I know so few Harry Potter fans, but ah well. This is a franchise I have enjoyed immensely over the 6 years. I’m going to see the latest movie tonight, and I can tell you what I’ll be doing on the 21st: getting a coffee, going to pick up book 7 and either sitting at the pool with the Deathly Hallows on my lap, or sitting in my apartment with the book.

Back in 2001, my old roommate let me borrow her dad’s copy of the Sorcerer’s Stone and I thought I’d read it since the movie was coming out and everyone seemed to be making a big deal. To my surprise it was funny. It was creative. It incorporated all kinds of previously considered dorky fantasy/sci-fi things and silly stereotypes into a really good book. So I went through the Chamber of Secrets, then the Prisoner of Azkaban when things got really interesting.

I remember I finished Azkaban right around the time Goblet of Fire came out. I had gone to see an early screening of A Beautiful Mind and went and bought a copy of the 4th book beforehand. I zoomed through that book, it being my favorite in the series. The first movie came out and it was pretty good. Stuck to the book, good casting. It set the stage for the visual world of Hogwarts and picturing the characters when reading the book.

I think I’m a pretty savvy moviegoer, and I’ve made films (written, directed, edited stuff with friends), so I think I have an informed opinion. That, and I possess enough hubris to think so. So when the third movie came out, I got PISSED. They had done so well casting Alan Rickman as Snape, the character I love to hate. Richard Harris was a perfect Dumbledore. The kids they got to play the Weasley boys were hilarious and befitting of the wonderfully written characters in the book. Then…Alfonso came along.

The third movie, Cuaron changed the looks of Hogwarts. He changed the location of Hagrid’s hut. He changed where the Whomping Willow is. He even made the Whomping Willow eat cute little birds. He added some weird bridge type thing. Did he think we wouldn’t notice? Then the writers…somehow thought it’d be a good idea to leave out the fact that the Marauder’s Map was created by HARRY’S FATHER, along with Sirius, Pettigrew, and Lupin. Did no one wonder how Lupin knew how to work the map when he gave it back to Harry? Did no one wonder who Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were? Why didn’t Cuaron show Harry’s patronus as a stag? He sorta alluded to it, but even still – if you haven’t read the book, do you know why his patronus was a stag?? Things like that were important to the storyline. Why did anyone think it was a good idea to get rid of it?

Don’t even get me started on the Goblet of Fire movie. While I enjoyed it overall, it completely glossed over so much important stuff it blows my mind. Because a 10 minute long dragon duel is necessary? And then to hear the new movie is the shortest one, even though Order of the Phoenix was the longest book…I’m a little nerviouso. Although I know that Rowling puts a lot of stuff in the books that aren’t crucial to the storyline, but immensely enjoyable to read. I did like that bit of the Goblet of Fire movie, the addition of some of the more fun things from the book. I haven’t read Order of the Phoenix in a couple of years, so I’m hoping the movie won’t piss me off too much. From what I’ve seen, it looks like they’ve included quite a bit from the book, so I’m hopeful.

I’m so ridiculously excited for the new book. And a little sad too, because then it will be over. I think that’s part of what has made the series great; that we knew there would be an ending to it and we know there will be a final showdown. I can’t wait to read the book because I can’t wait to see what happens, but I’m also concerned that assholes are going to ruin what happens in the book if I wait too long to read it. After the last book came out, I actually shushed a person in a restaurant for talking about it, and it turns out, my friend heard the spoiler because of him. Maybe I’ll just go around with my iPod on constantly after the 21st.

People like JK Rowling are inspiring to me. Not because she came from nothing and now has more money than the queen. But because she created a truly amazing world that has been so much fun to inhabit for a little while. She’s literally brought magic back to storytelling. I love to read and I’m always inspired by good books, and the Harry Potter series is no different. I’m re-reading the Half Blood Prince and I was finishing the chapter on Horcruxes last night. I laid in bed thinking what else could be a horcrux for like 10 minutes. I know it’s fake, it doesn’t really exist. But I love that she’s given us so much information that maybe we can figure it out on our own, that it makes us think, that she’s created characters we want to spend time with.

Sad? Maybe a little bit. But I don’t care. It’s not like I have Griffyndor robes or a Harry wand replica…no really, I don’t. However, if a good Griffyndor scarf comes out on the market, it’s mine. Wanna know what else? In two weeks, Daniel Radcliffe turns 18 and I’ll feel slightly less guilty about ogling him.

Women are never disarmed by compliments. Men always are. That is the difference between the sexes. - Oscar Wilde

2007-06-29T02:53:00.000Z

I was clicking around Yahoo the other day and came across an interesting sounding article: 10 Compliments That Wow a Man. Okay, you've got my attention. I'd like to find out something to wow a man. Of course, Arjewtino has already given his take on some tried and true pick up lines for guys, but let's scroll through this new list (I omitted one because, frankly, it wasn't that funny), shall we?

Just for fun, I'd like to point out that the author, David Zinczenko, is the author of "The Abs Diet," and the new book "Men, Love & Sex: The Complete User's Guide for Women." I don't know about you guys, but I can't think of a better pairing of two subjects than that.

"Your arms are definitely looking bigger." Men can be just as paranoid about the way their bodies look as women can be.

I think I might use this at the bar Friday night as a guy is lifting his beer.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha." Because men value their sense of humor as one of their most important qualities, a hearty, genuine laugh is as flattering as it gets.

Honey, if you're not making me laugh in the first place, I'm not complimenting shit.

"Wow." Doesn't matter whether it comes as he's getting undressed or after you've finished having sex, this short, sweet word (best done in a whisper) may just be the ultimate ego-stroke.

Once again, I think this is a good one for the bar. When he's ordering his Miller Lite. So. Hott.

"You the man." Guys hear this all the time. From other guys. They hear it at work, on the golf course, and when one dude from the group buys the beer. But if it comes from a woman -- no matter the context -- the message is that, hey, we're buddies, too. Which is actually pretty darn sexy.

I can safely say I've never heard a man say this to another man when they buy a round. Oh wait, yes I did. In 1995 on an episode of Blossom, followed by WHOA! I wonder if I should accompany this with a request to gimme five! Up high! Down low? Too slow! Goddamn, I'm so golden.

"The kids just adore you." More than 50 percent of men say that their families -- more so than work and salary -- are what defines them most as men. So when a woman affirms that he's a familial hero, it's a compliment that stretches way beyond anything you could ever say about his haircut.

So wait..."nice haircut" is NOT a fulfilling compliment? Check. Okay. The kids adore you...but whose kids? My aunt's kids who he's never met? No...hmmm...oh, I've got it. How about the children that I envision having with HIM? Like "I can tell that not only will our children be beautiful, but they will adore you." Is that too much?

"Cute feet." Typically, it doesn't matter much to men if women like a part of their body that they don't control, like their eyes, jawline, or body hair.

Really? Well, I'll tell you. I don't have control over my breasts but when a guy I like is impressed with my rack? I'm okay with that.

Tell a guy he has good feet, and somehow he takes it as a double-bagger compliment -- that you not only like his genetics, but also that you appreciate he can keep himself better groomed than the rest of the gnarly-nailed heathens out there.

I see a couple of problems with that. 1, I can better imagine myself flashing a man to win his approval than complimenting him on his feet. 2, I want to date a STRAIGHT man. Just a preference.

"Meow." The stats show that 61 percent of men think their partners aren't sexually adventurous enough. While a feline one-liner doesn't automatically qualify as adventurous, it does show a bit of inhibition, and the message is one he likes to hear: That perhaps he's brought a little bit of the animal out of you.

What's the best way to employ this technique? Is it best to do your best to sound like a real cat? Because, that could be sexy. What about tying on a costume tail and putting on the cat nose with whiskers over my real nose? I will become irresistible because of my animal magnetism. Then I might bite his neck to really turn up the heat. Of course, I will draw blood. Sex-ay.

"Impressive." Guys love feats. They love accomplishments. They love being acknowledged for their strength, power, and, simply, their masculinity. So a well-timed observation like this one -- whether it comes after he carries a TV to the family room or figures out a way to fix the pipes without having to call the plumber -- feeds into his need to feel like the family protector.

What about going 8 beers before having to go to the bathroom? What about after he lets out a particularly nice belch after bonging a beer? Coming out of the bathroom as he's zipping up? Appropriate to use "impressive"? I think so...

"I want you." Women don't need to go on about a guy's eyes or hair or clothes. That a guy really wants to hear is that he's the total package, and this acknowledgement of that -- whether it's referring to bedroom behavior or relationship stability -- is the ultimate compliment of them all.

Okay, I'll give him this one. Definitely hot when done appropriately, and when I find a man that I want to say it to? Game on.

And the worst part of this article? The stepford women who commented. Take for example:

-"This is great advice for any woman. I already tell my husband these things all the time and he loves hearing it."
- "Great advice. I told my husband this everyday and he loves hearing it. My husband is the best of the best."
- "I compliment my fiancee all the time. However, I NEVER would have dreamed of mentioning his feet. I will definitely try it tonight, tho. Wish me luck!"
- "David, I totally agree with you men and woman both need to hear things said to them to help them feel important in a relationship. I used to tell my ex these all the time and even though he was lazy and an alcoholic I tried to make him feel important."
- "That is nice to read coz i have been whispering some of these words to my Man"
- "i think from a mans prosepective, that this 10 things are just the ticket a man needs at the end of the day."
- "Ladies tell your men you want them or show them! Telling him his arms look bigger is also true. -My husband is all the time making me touch his "GUNS". This is a good article."
- "I actually feel reassured. I do more than half of those suggestions on a regular basis. A couple areas I could work, though, and I will. Thanks for the tips! I'm sure my husband will be appreciative."

And I could go on. There are over 2200 comments as of 10 pm Thursday night. So we've learned that these work, ladies! Write these down on your hand, have a crib sheet, commit them to memory and you too will be happier than you've ever dreamed!

Watch out, boys. I'm on the prowl this weekend and I'm armed with some amazing one liners. You will be putty in my hands. Girls, just stay home. Or stand back and be amazed by my prowess.

Best of Craigslist: Send in the Clowns

2007-06-26T02:28:00.000Z

It's that time again, kids. Everyone's favorite time. Time to make fun of Craigslist tools looking for dates! So slip on your comfortable shoes, grab a mojito and let the mocking begin.

What does "spuratic" mean? Did this guy hit his thesaurus too har when looking for spontaneous? Or maybe it was too hard to spell. "well I am not very good at figuring out what to say, so I will just tell you a few things about me and see where that go's."

This guy is seriously looking for a relationship as evidenced by this qualifier: "I actually care about the "Not-so-hot-chicks" outthere." You've gotta feel pretty good about yourself when you email him with a picture. I know I would!

Don't rhyme. Not like this: "Something fun. Me: thirty two and super coo’ :)" Unless you're quoting the Princess Bride. Otherwise, shut up.

This guy might have a novel way of dating. Creepy, but novel: "I've always found hypnosis to be so sexy, so seductive and so intriguing...would love to hear from an attractive girl who might share my interests in hypnotism."

This guy has a helpful list. Number 11 is my favorite about his match: 11. Not clingy, my cell phone is my only phone, I do not like to go over the minutes." Chatty bitches.

Need a sugar daddy? He's willing, as he says, " I am unsatisfied in my marriage and feel empty. So I am looking forward to an attractive woman with a great personality that I can take care of. This would include shopping, manicures, pedicures, hair, and other needs." Because nothing fills a void like adultery! It's what's for dinner.

Should I post something with my list of celebrities that turn me on and hope for the best? If only I were Zooey Deschanel (who admittedly, I do love). "basically if you are anything like Zooey Deschanel I will probably fall in love with you..."

Here's something we've never heard before: "I can't believe I'm doing the craigslist thing, especially after browsing and laughing at these kinds of ads on several occasions. " The internet: not just for dorks anymore. Have you seen some of* the people in our DC blog circle, for Chrissakes?

The requisite are-you-dom/sub-curious post. I always think it's so weirdly interesting how purposeful their posts are: "You may have linked to this ad out of curiosity, but the truth probably runs deeper than that and we both know it. You crave the strong hand and creative mind of a physically powerful and attractive man. A man whose dominant nature runs to his core. By his side your cares and fears melt away as you are finally free to soar. To be used with an intensity that stirs you, to be cared for with a diligence that moves you." Justin Timberlake would say 'she's freaky, but I like it.' Ew. I have to shower now. And no, that's not something I'd be interested in, so save it.

Do you like hairy men? I suppose, but it's not a selling point as to why I'm going to contact you. You need to groom your grammar and spelling, buddy. "I have very soft cheast hair that you could rub your fingers threw after we are done with the hours of hot sex." Tempting, no? That reminds me, I need to get my eyebrows waxed...

*Arjewtino is still a dork. A dork in a wet t-shirt, so it makes the ladies swoon. Or something.

A Dating Proposal

2007-06-21T17:54:00.000Z

There is a great post about the elusive friend with benefits/fuck buddy over on Just Going With It. Irina makes a great, spot-on comment about why the situations don’t usually work:

Here's the deal: why are you doing him again?
1) He was good in bed- which means that you liked him sorta kinda. As a girl, you have to like him sorta kinda to enjoy it.
2) You like him really truly.

Either way, you like him- even a little.

That’s what has gotten me in trouble with my previous FWBs. She’s right, I do have to like the guy a little bit. And once I like them a little bit and if it clicks physically? I’m hooked. I wish it would work the way Dagny Taggart puts it, like an adult and on both parties. Why does the guy have to assume we’re going to get hooked?

I think that if a guy is that worried about the girl getting attached, then he's a poor candidate anyway. These situations work out much better when the prospective FWB gives the other party enough credit for being an adult and making her own decisions, including the decision to engage in coitus without commitment.

But it never does. I don’t know very many men who can seem to get it out of their head that there’s no way you wouldn’t get attached and then feel the need to bring it up whenever you talk to them. It goes back to Irina’s comment though…they’re actually right, just a little bit. Bastards.

All of this got me wondering why it isn’t acceptable to start a relationship backwards. Sex first. While there are success stories out there of the relationship that started with first-date sex, those seem to be few and far between. Long ago, I was told by male bloggers that if the guy likes you, it won’t matter when you put out. Then you hear from other male bloggers how if you want to keep a guy interested in more than just the one time bang, you shouldn’t give it up. Which one is it, guys?

There are no hard and fast rules, as we know. For me, I fucking hate first dates. Hate them. They are usually totally awkward, to use the overused cliché – it’s like an interview, you feel like you can’t relax and you wonder how much of yourself you’re really putting forward and how much of the other person you’re getting. Mix that in with after the date – do I like him? Does he like me? Is he going to ask me out again? Should I hint that I want to go out again? Should I ask him out? Even if you’re not interested, why won’t he ask me out again?

All this stuff combines to trouble for me. Call me crazy, but I don’t dig those kinds of butterflies and all that stuff messes with my brain so I end up being more chaste than I probably should be.

So then you think you like someone. And maybe you’re feeling randy and you feel like there’s good chemistry. A goodnight kiss turns into a makeout session. Hands wander. You feel more randy. Most dating etiquette says that you shouldn’t give it up. Hell, even the guys will say, “I don’t usually do this” or “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.” Let’s say you go ahead and do it, because, hey you’re a sexually charged person and goddamn he’s a great kisser… Now what? Is it tainted because you’ve gotten it on quickly? Is he less interested because he’s already reached the summit?

Here’s what I wish it could be like in some cases: you meet someone. You talk, you drink, you mingle at a party, you whatever. If you feel like there’s physical attraction, then by God, cue up Marvin Gaye and get it on. It’s great. You feel comfortable together. You want to see each other again, and the added bonus? If you want some, you can get some without worrying you're a tramp. Hopefully, you end up seeing each other more and WHAM! You might find yourself in a decent relationship. Is that so hard?

The nice thing about FWBs is that every time you hang out, you are more than likely guaranteed to part ways with a smile on your face. You can have fun with a person with clothes on and know that more fun will come when the clothes come off. Or when you first walk in the door. Or three times. Or whatever. Why can’t we mix some dating into that and call it a day?

This is either genius or the dumbest thing I have ever come up with in my life. I’ll let you decide.

What Lies Within

2007-06-19T01:22:00.000Z

Today I actually did something nice for myself. I mean, really nice. Not pedicure nice or new shoes nice (although on Saturday I did treat myself to a new Bare Escentuals set - three new brushes, SCORE!). But something that actually is good for myself, my self esteem.

I was driving home from having dinner with family. Half of my dinner was sitting on the seat next to me. I realized that prior to the yummy Cuban food this evening, the only thing I had consumed was two pieces of this ridiculously decadent chocolate/peanut butter cake (Happy birthday to J, and thanks to Elle for making the cake!), an iced latte, and a Coke Zero. Not exactly healthy, I realize. I had gone for sushi with J and Elle today, but my tuna and philly rolls sat untouched in the fridge. Before I went to lunch, I got an email that both maddening and hurtful at the same time. I was too pissed to eat. I bent several people's ears on what my next step should be (thank you, guys). I knew what it was, what it had to be: Walk. Away.

So I sat on the email, wondered if it would make him sweat, even just a little. I started to craft a response. I saved the draft. Went back to work. He wasn't sweating. If he was who I wanted him to be, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Came back to the draft, added a bit. Read it. Read it again. Saved it. Sending it would mean I couldn't take it back. Once I walk away, I walk away. I didn't want to walk away. Dammit, Carrie, woman up. Fine. Send. Done. It really sucks, it hurts, it makes me feel like jackass. But it was necessary.

I tole Elle what I did. We emailed each other back and forth, which is actually pretty amusing considering if we look down the hall, we can see each other. She was proud of me. I was proud of me. She pointed out some things I hadn't thought about, just as some other friends reminded me of the obvious. As we walked out, she asked me if I was okay. And I said yes, I felt okay. I did. My family asked me how my day was and I replied, "It's over." Which was true.

I am completely and utterly self-destructive. Not by having wild sex or shooting myself up with drugs. I have worked for years to defeat myself. My weapon? Food. I've always used it to fill a void. I'm still trying to figure out what that void is, but I have some ideas. I hate talking about it. I can't believe I'm talking about it on this forum, this was one of the things I said I wouldn't talk about. I'm such a big mouth.

Since I've actually done something really good for myself today, I haven't felt the need to fill the void. Some people don't eat when they're upset or stressed. I'm not one of those people, so this is actually somewhat significant. I hope it's not a one-off. I hope it's something inside of me clicking, telling whatever it is inside that I don't need weapons. I don't need protection, because I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

I don't want to repeat today's menu. But I don't want to turn to food to make myself feel better, because it just. Doesn't. Work. I wonder if tomorrow I'll hear back from him, and it will make me sad, and I'll want to put the walls back up. Thankfully, I have plans with one of my girls who always knows how to lift my spirits. She lets me lean on her, even though I just said I'm capable of taking care of myself.

I just thought it was an interesting turn of events today. I'm a little more than embarrassed writing about it. Maybe it'll remind me that I did something truly good for myself.

And speaking of good for myself, I was reminded on Friday night that I have some really freaking amazing, lovely, and all around fantastic friends who also write blogs (and a couple who don't, the Princess and MJ, I'm looking at you) and know how to have a good time. Thank you, guys. As always, it was great meeting the newbies and seeing you quasi-newbies. Christ, I'm old.

If I had a hat on, maybe I'd throw it jubilantly into the air and sing, "I'm going to make it after allll."

I'm done being Sappy Confessional Sapperson now. Snarkiness will commence shortly.

The Patriarch

2007-06-18T03:31:00.000Z

I’m very fortunate to have two dads. Who I love. Who I even like. My dad and my stepdad, who is just as much as my father as the one with my last name. Very lucky. But today has been hard. THE dad is gone. The patriarch of the M family, the lynchpin in some ways. He’s gone.

When does it get better? It’s been over 4 months now and in some ways, it still feels like yesterday. Even though I’ve had…what, about 16 Sundays, completely free now. Sundays I would go over and we would watch football, or golf, he’d tell me stories. Most that I’d heard at least three times before. When he was healthier, he used to make me sandwiches and bring me a Dixie cup of half gingerale, half RC cola that I’d put on top of the tv by my perch on the couch.

The family always rallied around my grandfather. We did when Grandma was here as well, but it was different because her health wasn’t good enough for her to really leave the house that much. But after she was gone, Grandpa could come out to dinners again and we wanted him to have as much company as possible. So we had a lot of dinners. Some at restaurants, some at my uncle’s house. Two Christmases at my apartment, one when he kept putting my artichoke dip on crackers and fed it to my dog. I think last Father’s Day we all went to my uncle’s for dinner.

We had an estate sale at the house yesterday. I didn’t go. I am going to go tomorrow night after work to see what’s left, and grab anything else before it gets donated or pitched. I’ve already brought a bunch of stuff home, that’s in boxes in my living room, because I don’t really have a place for the knick knacks, the glassware. What do I do with my Mousekateer ears? I don’t know what else I even want from the house. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, honestly. I’m sure the house looks different with the furniture that sold gone. With the couch I spent a lot of time on thrown away. The huge mirror over the couch that you see when you come up the stairs is gone. I’m afraid that the house will look so different and it will crack me. Or something.

Then I think that maybe being upset will help. Help me to come to peace with the fact that the house won’t be ours after a few more months. It hasn’t been the same house since they’ve been gone. But it’s been a monument to their lives, to the foundation they built. Three boys. Seven grandchildren. Trinkets and tokens from trips and gifts from friends. It’s the place where I feel closer to them, but they’re gone.

How do you say goodbye? I wish I knew.

Overheard on the Metro & Why DC Sucks Today

2007-06-08T18:18:00.000Z

Last night on the way home, I stood by four younger guys, no older than 20, maybe 21 (because I actually heard one of them say something about being 20). They all work together at some restaurant because there was talk about server-shennanigans. Then the conversation moved to girls. And I listened, duh.

They started to say how gorgeous someone name Vanessa was. One guy started to comment, in detail, about her different outfits. He especially liked it when she wore the "paper-thin black pants." I missed the comment that led to this:

Vanessa is like a zebra. You don't just go up to a zebra and expect to jump on,
unless you're a cheetah. If not, you just admire from a distance.

I'm sure men everywhere were proud.

Next on the docket? I loathe our fair city today. Why? Let me count the ways:
1. DC could double for the surface of the sun today.
2. Not enough a/c whilst waiting for metro. Which is packed. And people decidedly did NOT use Dial today. Does no one watch the weather? 95 degrees today? Lay on the deodorant, folks. Your neighbors' noses will thank you.
3. Jackholes who don't know how to hold doors, especially when your hands are full. Or jackholes who can't move when you're trying to push your way out upon station arrival. So you're going to play like that? Gotcha. Shoulder DOWN. Bitch.
4. Jaywalking tickets. JAYWALKING. When I saw a larger than usual mob at the little island to cross over 18th Street, I looked around for a cop and sure enough, there he was. Writing away a manifesto-cum-ticket for some poor woman who was just trying to get to work on time. Did I mention that you have to stand there literally for a full two minutes before you get a walk signal? And then in another spot, when you're crossing over Connecticut, the lights don't even give you enough time to cross both directions. So that's our fault? Somehow, I don't think the tickets are for our safety. So help me God, if I had been written a jaywalking ticket today, I would likely be in prison right now.
5. Metro cops. Coming back from the Nats game on Wednesday, we were determining where to stop on the platform to catch the train. We were told gruffly to keep moving. One of us asked an innocuous question about, oh we have to move down? And the cop said again, KEEP MOVING and gave her the evil eye like she had called him out on being the dickhead putz that he truly was. And I couldn't do anything about it. Why? B/c they have guns. And would have probably arrested me. I f-ing hate that.

Happy Friday, kids. I've only got limited web access the next few days, so I'll be running my yap less frequently. I can hear your sighs of relief. I resent that.

Good weekends to all and to all a good night.

Best of Craigslist - Get Ur* Freak On

2007-06-06T03:18:00.000Z

And I present to you the latest edition of Craigslist freaks. Ladies, you'd have to follow your hearts to this guys because your head would tell you to make like a tree and get out of there. **

Love to Have Your Hair Pulled? "I am a tall, white man who is conservative-looking, and enjoy pulling your hair as I call you every name in the book." Only if you buy me a nice dinner first, honey.

Quite possibly one of the most unflattering photos I've seen on CL. I give him points for at least posting himself, and while his looks might not be my cup of tea...this is the best you could come up with? Really? Don't even get me started on the punctuation and your vs. you're. "Hey Whats Goin on?...Here is my pic Write me back if your interested Cant wait to talk" The lack of punctuation is Jimmy's doing, not mine.

I can't even get my brain wrapped around this one. I have to shower first. Ew.

A true renaissance man: "I consider myself witty, funny, just, kind, diplomatic, pragmatic and stable." Is there really a difference between funny and witty? And he also lists his three passions as "wine women, wellness." I only count two passions. What are wine women?

Who likes the bald guys? "If you think bald is sexy I would be happy to receive your email...Be 28 years or less please." Yeah, because you're going to turn down someone over 28 if they say they want to have sex with you after being won over by your awesome command of the English language.

The purposeful lowercase of "i" and then uppercase of "you" creeps me out for some reason: "i am in a long distance vanilla relationship. But i want to explore my submissive side. If You are looking for a man to control, on a part time basis, i would love to hear from You." Maybe because I'm normal. (I can hear you laughing. Shut up. For the sake of this exercise, I am normal.)

When you're looking for a date, don't joke about being a wannabe criminal, mmmkay? "OK, so I'm actually a criminal wanna be ..haha joke " Just a thought.

Dude, if you want inner peace and meditation while you walk your dog, why do you need company for that? "Perhaps we may walk with my dog this afternoon between 7:00pm and 9:00pm and catch up on some much-needed peace and quiet. I'm not looking for anything permanent, nor sexual- just two people, walking with a dog, enjoying green things and flowers and a slower pace. I'd prefer to spend my time with anyone who values inner peace as I do." Is that going to be the new 'it' date: going somewhere and NOT talking? Sounds fun to me.

I can think of few people less attractive to me. Not to sound mean b/c I'm sure he's a catch for a fellow organic enthusiast, but the 3 hours I spent at a Phish concert I would still like to get back. "Dreadlocks, sundresses, gardeners, herbalists/alternative health interests/Yoga/raw foods/Reiki, Phishheads/deadheads etc... all are pulses [Ed note - the word we're looking for here is PLUSSES]...computer/gaming enthusiasts, I hate sitting down and staring at a screen."

If this guy gets a date off of this post, I will either officially lose hope or it will reassure me that I too will find someone. "Looking for a girl who is wooed by pandas, siberian huskies, chinzillas, internet memes, awesome music (flaming lips, at the drive-in, etc.)...My dream girl would do excited arms and yell too loudly when something cool is happening, get hopped up on caffiene and hurt her neck headbanging, and generally be the most adorable human on the planet?"

Worst title for a male seeking woman personal ad on craigslist: "Does a Good Fart Give You The Giggles?"

I haven't jumped into the online dating pool because I'm stuck on re-writing my profile. After reading these, I'm convinced there is no such thing as the original profile anymore. Yeah, people do things that are catchy or kitschy or whatever, but most of those things just make me roll my eyes. I really don't want to read 200 reasons why I should go out with you. I'm not giving up just yet though. I'm a resourceful chick.

* It pains me to spell 'your' like this, but if I'm going for a song title, I have to be true. But for real, it's driving me nuts.

** A little Back to the Future humor. Couldn't resist.

Hair Yesterday, Gone Today

2007-06-01T22:52:00.000Z

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. Even fairy princesses had super long hair that aided their courtship. I guess I just wasn't destined to be a fairy princess.

This rather strange photo to the right is 10 inches of my hair. Ten inches. 1-0. Just a few hours ago, the longest point of my hair was at my waist, and while I don't have the longest torso in the world, that's still pretty long. I have been blessed with great hair. Someone told me years ago I had Piper hair, as in Piper (Holly Marie Combs) from Charmed, which I took to be a major compliment. And I'll admit it, I love getting compliments on my hair. Let's face it, when you have something that works for you, you work it. My hair helps me feel pretty when my makeup or my ego isn't cooperating. It's a bit of a safety net thing. Weird, huh? But true.

But now it's gone. GONE!

Here's a ridiculously shallow confession: with my hair being "short" (short for me!), I'm afraid men won't find me as attractive than with the long hair. We always hear that men looooove long hair. And now mine's not so long anymore. And we also know that I'm not exactly lucky in the men department. Hmmm...I also never realized that the length in the back offset the largeness of my ass. Oh shit. I hope I'm making a mountain out of something a bit larger than a molehill.

Here's the upside: I did it so I can donate to Locks of Love. I've always been too chicken to do it before because I was afraid of how short my hair would be. A good friend pointed out to me the other day that the nice thing about hair? It grows back. She's right. And I was looking at the beautiful recipient pictures at the Locks of Love website, and I'm pysched that I did it.

And I really did get a fantastic cut, thanks to the best hairdresser (and a great friend) in the world. Another not so good friend is the summer heat, so I have significantly less hair on my head, neck, on my back to heat me up now. Time and I aren't exactly great friends in the morning before work, so I just knocked probably a good 10 minutes off my morning blowdry. And then the whole doing something for a good cause thing. So I think I've made out okay.

Carrie M, living on the edge, one day at a time.

Update, Saturday June 2:

Last night, I went out with some friends, all who gave the new haircut a big thumbs up. I was talking to the Princess about how I just cut a whole bunch of my hair off b/c I think she's only met me when I had my hair pulled back, and Arjewtino walks up, hearing part of the conversation.

Arjewtino: You cut your hair?

Me: Yeah, I cut about a foot off.

Arjewtino, looking at my hair: You did?

So while AJT has a pretty fabulous girlfriend already, methinks that maybe the men won't notice so much. And really, am I going to lose dates because of my hair length? It's still funny to wax poetic about though.

Celebrity Judging

2007-05-31T15:48:00.000Z

There are about a million dumb things that celebrities do everyday. Because, well, they're people. But they're generally more beautiful than the rest of us and therefore it's acceptable to laugh, and therefore judge. At least that's how I justify it. Because, let's face it: we all judge. So let the judging begin.

1. Brittany Murphy is having marriage problems. No fucking way! You mean to tell me, the woman who married this prize of a guy after four months and no proposal, is having MARRIAGE PROBLEMS?! I've read a few things on how shocking it is that she paid for her own engagement ring, but that's not nearly as troublesome to me as someone who seems to be on the way to becoming a new Liz Taylor: hasn't she been engaged at least twice? Honey, identify your pattern and change it. You're too pretty for that BS.
Simon says: Totally not surprising. What do you expect when you rush into something, with someone who has outstanding arrest warrants and a bad weave?

2. Britney Spears claims she hit rock bottom in rehab. Once again, no shit, sherlock. Yet she claims that alcohol and depression weren't the culprits. The reason why she went to rehab was because everyone else wanted her to go. I mean, come on, y'all: she just broke up with her husband, so why WOULDN'T she go out and party? She also claims that she wised up and started using her brain, so her handlers decided to put her back in her place. Hmm...using her brain...see exhibit:

A. Married Kevin Federline and had two kids in quick sucession.
B. Shaved her head.
C. Forgets panties. Often.
D. See any single one of her outfits at any given moment.
E. Was friends with Paris Hilton and considered a confidante.

Whew! Brit, you really dodged some bullets there. Way to use the noggin.
Randy says: I don't know, dog, I'm not feeling that performance. Bad choices, you were kinda all over the place. You gotta go back to the drawing board, dog, it wasn't aiight for me.

3. Allure claims that Giselle Bunchen is really down to earth. What article will you ever read about a celebrity that says they are a flaming bitch/dick? Least of all in the sunny Allure? Let's say she was a flaming bitch, that would translate into straightforward and knows what she wants, doesn't take an BS. The fact that she's 17 feet tall with legs longer than the Dupont Circle escalators has nothing to do with your admiration of her? Guess what, kids? She can be any freaking way she wants to be. She's not paid for her sparkling personality so stop trying to get me to like her. I already think she's gorgeous, is that not enough?
Paula says: You are amazing. You look beautiful and you own it. Good for you.

I've lost my creativity chip. I'm hoping to get it back soon and get back to my regularly scheduled blogging. But in the meantime, enjoy the celeb snark. Or not.

And I'm Losing My (Least) Favorite Game

2007-05-29T02:39:00.001Z

I have had a great Memorial Day weekend. Best one I've had in a long time actually. It was kicked off by many Stella Artois' in my last night in Canada and then landing in the good ole US of A on Saturday morning. Hit the pool, took in some Chipotle and a movie with a friend (stupid fucking Pirates). Sunday was BBQ fun and hilarity (with FRUIT on the grill no less - who knew it could be so good?). Tonight was more BBQ fun at the new side of the family's house - I met my soon-to-be stepbrother for the first time today and hung out with those folks including a fabulously gay hairdresser who was tons of fun. B/c let's face it, that's just a recipe for fun, right? But I won't be related to him through marriage, he's a friend of my soon-to-be stepsister. And today was spent by the pool with two of my favorite girls. Our conversation inevitably turned towards the opposite sex and the dating 'game.'

Us three ladies in the aforementioned conversation aren't fans of that word when it comes to dating. But there it is nonetheless. I was regaling them with the latest tales of non-activity in my own love life, and the subject came up: what's the best way to date? I don't doubt that I drove both of them nuts today because I was answer-for-everything girl and every answer included 'but what about...?' to start it off. No good can come from asking the 'but what about...?' questions. Or at least not asking about 20 of them in one conversation.

I wondered...I often wonder...if I've been going about it all wrong all this time. Right and wrong is a slippery slope of course because what does doing it right get you? Marraige? Not for me. Just looking for a boyfriend. That's okay, isn't it? To want a boyfriend but not a husband but not someone to just screw around with? Is that asking for too much? A commitment but not TOO much of a commitment? So how do you get said boyfriend?

Do I play it cool? Do I take it slow? Do I give up the physical goods early? Or wait till I know I actually want to go on date 6 with him? Do I date someone who I might not usually date? Should I be mysterious? Should I be myself totally and completely? Oh wait. I've done all those things, and um, funny thing...

No. Boyfriend.

So what does this mean? That I'm weird? Or ugly? Undateable? Too hard to please? Looking for the unattainable? I've established that yes, I have searched for the unattainable. But then I've 'lowered' my standards to test the waters and still came out empty handed. Do I stop looking and just carry on with life? I've done that too, because work gets pretty hectic or I've just worried about family stuff or whatever. Love still does not come walking in, as Sammy Hagar says it does.

What does all this mean? That I'm going to try to regroup and mix things up once again. I'm going to get back out into the online dating pool, as I've been threatening to do. I'm going to attempt to let my guard down a bit. I'm going to attempt to have fun while looking for said boyfriend. I'm going to enjoy spending time with some new friends I've made, and causing trouble with them. Hopefully some of that trouble will be with the opposite sex. I'm going to maybe kinda sorta pursue or plant the seed of pursuit with someone who I think has some potential. I'm going to have a fucking awesome summer.

At the very least it should make for some good blog posts, right?

Unlike this one...it started off better in my head and then I kinda just let it go and it's a bit of a mess. But I'm going to live right on the edge and click publish. Oh, and the other kicker? This is my 100th post. Boo-yah!

"The power of the force has stopped you, you hosers!" & Other Observations from our Northern Neighbor

2007-05-22T18:44:00.000Z

Greetings from Canada! I've been here since Thursday on a business trip, and let me tell you. I'm not in Kansas anymore. It's a strange place, this Canada. It's like being in the states...but not. Everyone here speaks English, but with a funny accent. And not a sexy accent like the British one. The city looks like a typical American city, but I don't recognize the names on the buildings mostly. Other random observations:

- People really do end their statements with 'eh?' sometimes. Which makes me want to add "take off, you hoser!"
- When I flip through the channels at dawn o'clock, I usually end up watching a large French-speaking puppet bear with very expressive eyebrows. I don't speak French.
- Canadians are big on recycling, so I constantly see a bin that says "Bottles & Cans". Consequently, I constantly have Beck's "Where It's At" in my head. This would be okay if I liked the song.
- Canadian coffee shops don't understand the concept of iced coffee. I ordered my usual yesterday (except with regular vanilla, I figured I'd try not to confuse anyone with the sugar-free request) at a non-Starbucks. They wrote down my order on the bottom of a large paper cup. The 'barista' looked at the owner confusedly, and she said she'd make it. She got the large clear cup and then asked me if I wanted it slushy or over ice. Iced apparently doubles as our version of a frappacino.
- My iced latte did not taste good.
- Victoria Day is to Canadians what Yom Kippur is to Jews. Or at least that's how I imagine it. It's holy in that EVERYthing shuts down. God save the queen and all that. I'm surprised the Canadians are allowed to eat. Oh, but there's fireworks. I'm guessing that's not part of Yom Kippur. Maybe Rosh Hoshanna? (Jane and Arjewtino will probably smack me the next time I see them)
- Canada uses dollars, but the currency looks like British pounds. They even have one dollar coins, which is a very British thing to me. Still no British accent!
- I feel kinda slutty here in a Canada. In my job, I see a lot of different people from a lot of different places and I have said to myself at least 5 times, "I'd totally hook up with him." But I haven't. Curses.
- I think I may kinda like one of my quasi-coworkers. I haven't decided if it's inappropriate yet.
- Getting up at 4 am blows. Oh wait, that's not specific to when I'm in Canada.
**Added Wednesday, 5/23**
- Every commercial I see in Canada seems to have the word "Canadian" slapped in it somewhere. Like "DOT - Canada's best furniture store!" or "Canadian Safari Adventure." Is "American" slapped everywhere back home? And I swear, there really is a commercial for the Canadian Safari Adventure.
- There is something up here that makes my makeup stay on practically perfect all day long. I haven't figured out what it is yet.
- I watched the French Bear Puppet Show this morning for like 5 full minutes. I caught "bonjour" and "merci". They kept saying some other word a bunch of times, kinda like PeeWee Herman's word of the day. But there was no yelling after they said the word.
- I saw a McDonald's commercial yesterday for their value menu. But they can't call it a dollar menu, b/c the stuff that's a dollar at American McDonald's cost $1.39 in Canada. Take that, you hosers!

If you're wondering why this post is so loopy, I'm blaming it on sleep deprivation. Don't make me steamroll you. Steamroller!

I'm done now.

They All Have Me in Common

2007-05-17T04:06:00.000Z

Fucking men. I wish I was using that (fragmented) sentence in the fun way, but I'm not.

When I was 24, I went on my first real adult date. As in two people who pay rent, have jobs, cars and one of them asks the other for a drink that neither party has to obtain from a keg or with a fake ID. I went. We talked. I had four beers so I was slightly buzzed. We went dutch. He walked me to my car and proceeded to stick his tongue down my throat and ask for a second date.

I went home and I was totally confused. We could keep a conversation going just fine. He wasn't quasimodo, but I wasn't sure if I was attracted to him in that way. He was really bad at looking me in the eye when we talked, which is a pet peeve of mine. Wasn't there supposed to be sparks? Shouldn't I have been sure about seeing him again?

My roommate and friend assured me as we sat on her blue couch, her book put aside to listen to her silly roommate, that my confusion was normal. She also told me that in most cases, if you score the second date, go on it because you just never know. I didn't follow her advice with Kissing Kevin, as that guy came to be known amongst my friends and I. But I have found that to be good advice that I'm glad I followed in the last couple of years. As I've discussed before, it takes a little while for me to figure out if I'm attracted to someone in many different ways.

Anyway. After Kissing Kevin and for the next year there were many more first dates. Only a handful of second dates and even fewer thirds and so on. I did not emerge from that dating bout with a boyfriend, but I did learn an awful lot. The dates seemed to fall in one of three categories:

1. Fine, but not enough chemistry.
2. The guy belonged in the Freaks Compendium as a warning to other single women.
3. Ended in a make out session in the car, usually never to be heard from again.

The guys I dated were fairly vanilla; I thought I knew what I wanted in a guy and that one of these days I'd go out with the right one, or at least the right now one. Looking back, probably the best potential for a great boyfriend was the one who was totally out of my vanilla comfort zone. I still wonder what happened to him and slap my forehead occasionally for letting my uncertainty and fear get the best of me.

That taught me the most important lesson of all: a great 'match' might not come in the package I expect. Which means look outside of my 'usual' search parameters. I dropped the 'no dating divorced guys' about a year ago. I figured that as long as I wasn't forced to look away from his picture (if it's online dating) and he seems to have a brain, go out with him. I've dated younger, where the age difference represents different stages in life.

But all these guys still had one major thing in common... They're all emotionally unavailable.

I have TRIED to go outside of my comfort zone in dating, realizing that I don't have it all figured out, that I need to try new things and I might be pleasantly surprised. But I'm still finding myself attracted to emotionally unavailable men. WTF? In the great Dating Bout of 2001-2002, the one guy that I remember actually really liking after a really great first date? Totally unavailable because he worked and traveled so much. Coincidence? Probably not.

That's gotta be on me right? My (former) therapist would probably tell me that on some level, I go for these guys because I can't really be hurt by them. Which makes sense, because over the years I can literally watch myself in many situations and see the defense mechanisms firing like booby traps in the Goonies. These guys hurt me in that I'm upset that I can't GET closer to them, a relationship, etc. But I haven't had to get to the point of letting THEM in and really hurting me. Because that would just be too awful.

These guys are interested in me up to the point where I'm fully invested back and ready to open up a little bit more, ready to be the good-roller-coaster scared with someone. Then they shut off. I'm left wondering why, blaming myself, thinking I should be a nun. Yes, I'm hurt, but not really. They didn't take any real part of me, they didn't rub salt into the really vulnerable bits. They've hurt my ego, added to a bit of my insecurity - but that's got more to do with me allowing that to happen than with them MAKING it happen.

It happened three times last year. It's happened once this year, when I wasn't even TRYING to date anyone. I'm fucking tired. I'm getting older, which doesn't mean the clock is ticking, it means I'm getting more set in my ways and less tolerable of bullshit. That makes me even more scared in some ways.

I don't want to be fucking scared. I don't want to be that girl. What am I doing to hold myself back? That's the $64,000 question with the answer that continues to elude me.

I won't give up on finding it just yet. Not yet.

Unabashedly Vapid

2007-05-16T02:25:00.000Z

I'm getting ready to leave for one of my two major business trips of the year, which means several things:

1. My brain is completely full. Not necessarily of work related information, it's just full.
2. My fuse is shorter than usual, which means nothing good.
3. This is the time of year I consider taking up meditation or yoga or something.
4. This is the time of year where I say, maybe next year.
5. The only things my brain is capable of processing are completely vapid and superfluous. This is when my weekly reading of US magazine is profound.

Well, not really. But I'm more likely to have a more intelligent conversation with you about Britney Spears' fashion choices than I would about Wolfowitz. Actually, that might be true most other days of the year...

Um, anyway...Here's my stupid thought I've been having for the last few days after my latest manicure...I feel like this nail polish totally reeks of a porn star. It's OPI's To Eros is Human and it is shockingly pink on my hands. On my feet, it's fine. On my hands? I feel like I should be in the aforementioned Carrie Potter and the Philosopher's Bone.

I usually stick to my trifecta + 1 of nail colors: Let Them Eat Rice Cake, Black Satin, Vamp, and Lincoln Park at Midnight (left to right). My manicurist usually fusses at me for always picking such dark colors. But they're just more me. I feel like my voice should be high pitched and my hair should be an unnatural shade of blonde (for me, since I am the furthest thing from blonde) in the pink stuff. I feel more like myself in my Vamp or Lincoln Park at Midnight. More chic. More bitchy. More Carrie.

About five years ago, a girl I've been friends with saw my deep pink Indian inspired comforter for the first time and asked me if she was really in my room. That's indicative of a time I wouldn't be caught dead in anything close to pink even as a bedspread. I grew up a little bit, expanded colors. You know, since expanding your color choices is a true sign of being an adult.

I'm taking this pink crap off and going back to my Vamp tomorrow night. I have to be Customer Service Carrie for the next week and a half, but god dammit, I'm still in charge.

The Answers to All Your Dating Dilemmas Online...

2007-05-14T03:40:00.000Z

Sometime last year when I was in the throes of the What The Fuck (WTF) portion of dating N...come to think of it, the whole thing was WTF, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, I was looking for some advice to assuage some of my concerns, wanted to get answers on this guy’s strange behavior. I wanted to read somewhere that he in fact was ‘normal’ and then so was I. I know now that was a sign pointing to nothing good, but oh well.

I found Paige Parker’s “Dating Without Drama” website/eBook. I didn’t buy the eBook, but I did subscribe to her newsletters and I still get them. So at least once a week, I get a message from Paige telling me that friends with benefits only benefits him, she tells me what to do when ‘he freaks out’. She shares a bit of information then tells me that I too could learn to date without drama when I buy her eBook and follow her advice.

I’ve been tempted. I thought it would make good blog fodder. Maybe I’d learn a thing or two. But then I said never mind, I didn’t want to rely on other people’s advice to run my romantic life. I’ve read enough Glamour magazines, enough advice columns, watched enough Sex and the City, even read enough books like He’s Just Not that Into You. Have they made me date smarter? Have they opened up my eyes?

Yes and no. There’s only so much dating advice you can read before it repeats itself. IAnd unfortunately, dating isn’t like baking a cake. You can’t follow a recipe, measure things out, be reasonable about it. Well, I suppose you could. But I can’t.

In talking about men troubles with a friend over Gmail, I noticed that gmail was suggesting some interesting links. Paige Parker certainly doesn’t have the monopoly on dating eBooks. I investigated.

Have you dated guys who have superficial charm? How about lack of guilt or remorse? No long term goals? Watch out! You could be attracted and dating sociopaths. This one actually goes so far as to list the traits of sociopaths and suggests you check out Alanon or similar meetings to get professional help. Then they pimp out the *best* advice that the author had seen; totally different and refreshing…

Catch Him and Keep Him. This site relies not only on scare tactics, but it attacks you where you’re most sensitive:“Chances are you DID have something to do with it, and things probably WOULD have turned out differently if you would have known how to deal with the situation. You COULD have done something about it... if only you had known WHAT to do...”

This one uses the lure of secret information that you would know, and most other woman won’t.

And don’t worry. There are some tricks for guys too. “Trying to impress that hotty at the bar? Money talks. Hand out your number on the back of one of our fake ATM receipts. They’re a players dream come true.”

Then there’s this eBook for men. They promise to tell you “The difference between how men and women think about dating - and why most women want to keep you from being successful” and “How to use “secret” body language to keep a woman’s attention.”

I’m not saying that seeking dating advice is bad, either from your friends, from an eBook, from Carolyn Hax, from whatever or whoever. Because even though I haven’t heard anything novel on the dating advice front in years, that doesn’t stop the cycle of questions and wanting to know what in the fuck I should do next.

Although the stuff geared towards the men seems to be on the manipulative side, and that I'm saying is bullshit. And if I were to ever get a guy's number on the back of his ATM receipt with hundreds of thousands of dollars, there would be no end to my laughter.

What I am saying is that I think some of these tactics are cheap and they play on some bad emotions to get the best of you. I’m not saying that women are always right and that we could never possibly be at fault for a relationship ending. However, it takes two to tango. Don’t scare someone into taking your advice. And while ‘you’re’ at it, don’t get to the point where you’re scared that you feel like you have to do something like believe you fall in love with sociopaths and then let someone else tell you what to do, to the letter. And pay them for it.

Unless it’s your therapist. Even then…

Don't count on the fact that I won't buy one of these eBooks one day. I hate that they pique my interest somedays, but they do. At worst I have some good blog entries. And that's really what it's all about.

What [tourists] don't know about [DC] I can just about squeeze in the Grand effing Canyon *

2007-05-09T19:03:00.000Z

It's that time again. Many have written about it, and written it well. But the last couple of days have reminded me how truly special this time of year is, and the love/hate relationship the city has with tourists. That is to say those of us natives hate the people who love to choose DC as their vacation destination for the first time.

Today, I thought of the escalators descending into the Dupont Circle as ski slopes. When WMATA has actually remembered to turn two of the three escalators in the down direction during evening rush hour, the one on the right hand side is like the bunny slope. It usually has more passengers riding along, and the people who walk down usually do so more slowly. Then the middle one, that's the intermediate/bordering black diamond. Few people just riding along, mostly people walking down. But they're usually not just walking, they are at the very least walking briskly. Usually not holding the hand rail. Then there are those people who come flying by you, talking to their friend as they run by, not holding onto anything. Black diamonds.

When the tourists get in the way, they're the speed moguls (if that's what they're called. I hope so or I've really screwed myself with the ski metaphor). On the black diamonds, the stray intermediates who still need to hold onto the rail sometimes, who don't go as fast, they get passed up by the pros who just scoot around and then shoot back over. The tourists get the booming, "Excuse me! Stand to the right" and then the offending tourist does the "oh shit" dance of confusion and try to move out of the way, all the while the intermediates/black diamonds have tried to shoot past them and then no one's happy. And native Washingtonians get the reputation of being mean to tourists.

That's my current favorite. What's yours?

* With my apologies to Kevin Smith...
and maybe to Perez Hilton, but he doesn't have the patent to writing badly on an image, does he?

I Saw the Sign and it Opened Up My Eyes...

2007-05-08T16:07:00.000Z

When I was in my early teens, my friends and I used to break the tops off of aluminum cans by push/pulling them back and forth. With each push/pull, we'd say a letter of the alphabet. Whatever letter the tab happened to break off to was an indicator the guy you would end up with. I still do it to this day, but without thinking about the alphabet. A couple of weeks ago, I was doing it and happened to do the alphabet. It broke off on the letter of my current crush. The tab is sitting here on my desk - I actually saved it.

Does it mean that he and I will live happily ever after, or even happily for the next couple of months? Because of a top off of Diet Sprite? Not bloody likely. So why did I save it?

Superstition, lucky charms, dreams, tarot readings...these are all things that some people use to guide them in life. Usually when we're uncertain. When we're in dire straights. All of this got me to thinking about the internal vs. external locus of control, as it is referred to in psychology.

Someone with an internal locus of control believes that 'good' things are achieved through hard work, that everywhere they've been in their lives are a direct result of their choices. Usually well thought out choices. These folks don't really believe in luck. What I think is the most interesting is that when they fail, they lower their expectations so the next time around they can succeed.

Those with the external locus of control is just what you think: relies on luck, looks to outside factors as the deciding ones in their life, doesn't work hard at achieving things like the internals. Depressed people (ahem) are more likely to have an external locus of control. Unlike internals, when they fail, they raise their expectations for the next go around.

So which one am I? I have a bit of both. (I'm also uber-ambiguous...shocker, huh?) I can look back at points in my life where I was very external, and then others when I became more internal. Those were usually the times I turned things around for myself.

But then there are the situations where both come into play: I interviewed for 11 months for a job in my field. I had experience. I'm a smart cookie. I interview well. So what gave? For a long time, when I was depressed, I thought it was because people could 'see' that I was a failure and a hack. I blamed it on *me*, my lack of achievement despite the previous 4 years of (mostly) hard work moving up the ranks at my place of business. Then I interviewed with someone who 'got' me. She knew that my resume didn't reflect the experience that she was necessarily looking for. But she believed that I could learn it, and hired me. I really feel like there was some luck involved involved in that. Since I've been at my current job, I've secured my place in my career, but without that one shot with my former boss, I don't know where I'd be.

So which is that? Internal or external? Which am I? I believe in hard work. I like to believe that it pays off, but I also know that life isn't fair. Does that lower my expectations? I've already discussed that a bit. The answer is no. Although there are examples of failures, then me lowering an expectation, and having some success. But when I run into a bit of trouble, like in my love life (which may or may not be one long bit of trouble spanning several years) or when I'm in a long bout of uncertainty/nervousness, I'll see a sign and wonder if it's telling me something.

When I said goodbye to my grandparents before I left for my freshman year of college down south, a few states away, there were many tears shed. By my grandparents and by me. I'll never forget seeing my grandpa in the doorway to wave goodbye, which he always did until his knees got really bad, and his eyes being wet. I was so nervous to go off to school. I got in my car and Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" came on. I remember thinking very clearly, it's a sign. Everything *will* be alright.

It totally wasn't. That was one of the worst years of my life for many, many reasons. Something happened externally that I had no control over, but I chose to let it hold me back rather than breaking out, overcoming some fears, and I feel like I missed out on learning a whole lot of things that are really best learned when you're young and stupid. And some of those things continue to bite me in the ass to this day. I know I could have overcame it. Sometimes I'm not sure how to overcome it now. I do 'work' hard. But I still believe that there is a matter of luck involved in many things.

But I never want to be a person who relies solely on luck, on tarot readings, on random, semi-meaningful songs that come on the radio. I am nothing if not a bit of a control freak, and I like to believe that I have control over the things that I do. And that I can work to achieve. Just achieve, in general. However, if some one or some thing is looking over me and can sprinkle a little bit of fairy dust or give me a shove in the right direction, I'd be okay with that too.

Now tell me you don't have that stupid Ace of Base song in your head. I dare you.

Best Search Term Ever

2007-05-04T15:59:00.000Z

Like most bloggers, I look at how many people come to my blog, where they were referred from, where they're from. Sometimes I'll see the Match.com guy I never quite went on a date with who somehow found my blog browse around . Sometimes my cousin J from Idaho (hi, J! Your dad told me that you read it.). I'll look at what people are searching on, which is always a source of amusement. One of them once was "how to be attractive to the opposite sex without makeup". Honey, if I knew, I'd be rich. (and all you guys out there who are about to say you don't like makeup, shut the fuck up, because I guarantee that you do even if you don't realize she's wearing it.)

But on Thursday, the very best search term I've ever seen reared its head:

Carrie Potter and the Philosophers Bone

In case I needed a title and incentive to a yet-to-be-agreed-upon (British) porno, now I'm set. Thanks, Google searcher!

Happy Friday, all.

A Night with the Green Monstah

2007-05-03T15:31:00.000Z

I have no baseball allegience because I'm not a baseball fan. I suppose if it comes down to it, I'm a Nats fan, but I'm Washingtonian. And in being a Washingtonian, there are at least two sports truths I subscribe to:

1. We hate the Dallas Cowboys. My stepfather and I always say that it's a good day when the Cowboys lose. If the Skins were to go 2-14 (which we came damn close to in 2006) and those two wins were against the Cowboys? Yeah, I could live with that.

2. We hate the Yankees. I couldn't even tell you why; I guess it's an Orioles thing since we Washingtonians were forced to cheer for the evil Angelos empire. Although when Cal Ripkin was in the game, it was cool. Even though the Yanks aren't even in the same league as the Nats, I still subscribe.

3. A third one that applies to those of us who either A, grew up in the area, or B, went to the University of Maryland, is that we hate Duke. Since both apply to me, I hate Duke.

Anyway...to be at a Sox game on Tuesday night was pretty cool. Like I said, I'm not a baseball fan but I love going to baseball games. Fenway Park? Green monstah? Yankees mortal enemy? Even better. We had great seats to boot, photographic evidence above.

I love the Boston accent. My roommate/best friend my freshman year in college was from just outside of Boston and for at least a month I thought the Italian guy she gushed about's name was "Cahlo". Like Frida Kahlo. Yeah, it was Carlo. Then Good Will Hunting, a movie full of the accent and, "Do you like apples? Well I got her numbah. How do you like them apples?" I was happy to be surrounded by the accent and by rabid fans.

What's even better? I love seeing grown man fall all over themselves for anything other than a leggy blonde. Watching the two men in front of us sing and dance along to Sweet Caroline was a highlight. Thank you for acting out, "hands...touching hands...touching me...touching you..." guys. My night would not have been complete. They were sitting next to a guy and his 12 year old kid who I am amazed did not rocket right out of his seat after consuming a huge thing of cotton candy, a Coke, Cracker Jacks, and another Coke. And the kid had remnants of all of it all over his hands, it was disgusting. Wash your hands, you little bugger! I totally laughed when he got wanged in the head by the peanuts dude.

Then there was the guy that always has something to yell. He kept saying, "Take a bow, Schill!" and I couldn't figure out why. Curt Schilling, yes, got that part. Take a bow though? He started giving up runs towards the end of his stint on the mound. And apparently, Mike Piazza, one of the few baseball players I do know, plays for Oakland now as a designated hitter. When he was at bat, this Masshole kept yelling, "PIZZA! PIIIIIIZZA!" I thought he was calling for the Papa Ginos vendor guy. After about 5 calls of "PIZZA" and no Papa Ginos in sight, it occurred to me that he was taunting Mike Piazza. It must have worked too, because I don't think he got a hit till like his 4th or 5th at bat.

And just because, I leave you with my favorite Saturday Night Live sketch ever. Complete with the Boston accent and great catch phrases to be repeated for laughter like, "He did not touch tat and I did not see hog!"

Changing of the Seasons

2007-05-01T02:52:00.000Z

Looks like Spring might actually have sprung for good this time. I find myself woefully unprepared for spring. I haven't swapped out the sweaters in my closet for the more breathable items. I am ridiculously pale, I've given up the tanning bed, and while the Jergens Body Glow helps it's just not the same. Most people love the spring. I'm usually one of them, but I'm finding that I'm having a bit of a tough go of it this year.

This great weather is a reminder that I need to get my ass outside. And while I do love being out in the beautiful weather and in the sun, this kind of weather doesn't allow me to keep as much to myself as I might like when I'm feeling blue. And unfortunately, I've been having some bad bouts with the blues. I have issues with depression; I have since I was a teenager but didn't start to properly deal with it till I was in my early/mid 20s. At 30, I have a handle on most of the issues, I've been in therapy, blah blah blah. And by 'handle', I mean I know what the issues are. Fixing them? That's a whole other story.

I'm a classic depressive in that when I'm feeling down, I want to keep to myself. And do nothing. Sleep is usually good, because that means not having to think. Or mindless movies that I've seen a million times, because I usually end up quoting along with the movie. (God, that sounds ridiculous) My mind is my own worst enemy, as it is for most of us. But when it's 70 degrees and sunny, becoming one with the couch seems like even more of a waste than usual.

I'm an only child, which suits me pretty well. Although I've always wished that I had an older brother or sister to guide me as I try and figure out what in the hell my path is on this earth. But being an only child has made me pretty indpendent. There isn't much I can't tackle by myself. In fact, when I find myself feeling like something is wrong and I might need some help, I'll end up not doing anything or calling anyone. Because I don't know how to ask for help, or even what I need. Unfortunately, this ends in me continuing to feel confused, and then alone in the not-so-great way. And then I feel like it's not exactly fair to my friends to shoulder my bouts of confused-ness and irrationality, even if I point out that I know that my expectations for whatever are irrational, and I don't take those bouts out on them. My friends can't fix me, although I love them more everyday for at least listening and offering advice on how to be fixed.

I'm the only one who can fix me, and I just have absolutely no idea where to start.
I realized over the weekend that I need to find new (or rediscover old) outlets of joy. Sometimes I feel like I forget to have fun. The depression doesn't help because it's like a very heavy weight on you as you are climbing out of a hole. It's not so heavy that you can't lift it, but it's certainly a good deterrant. So instead of working harder to climb out, you end up saying I'll just take a break for a few minutes. The few minutes stretch out longer than I'd like. And then you think that maybe it wouldn't be so fun to climb out, to expose yourself to the sun, to the world. You can get hurt out there. By people. By the very things that you want, you can expose your vulnerability. People can find those chinks in your armor that you usually take care to hide. That armor is the weight that keeps you in the hole. The very thing that protects you drags you down at the same time.

It's a vicious cycle.

So as we flip our calendars to May and wonder where in the hell the time has gotten off to, I need to turn a new page in my book. I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to do it. I thought that writing about it may serve as a reminder, it might make it more real. Now it's out there in the world, it's not just in my head. I have to be responsible for it. Being on your own a lot means you don't have to share a lot of things with people. Which means they don't know that you might have made a goal or made a promise. And they certainly won't know when you don't keep it.

Maybe not this time.

The Recap Proper

2007-04-30T13:48:00.000Z

If it's possible, I think that I have more fun at each happy hour that I go to. However, I also think that I get more ADD at each happy hour I go to. And my memory fails me by the end of the night. I couldn't tell you what exactly transpired between the time I sang "I Touch Myself" (and god almighty, I hope I sang it okay) and the time Mandy and I took a swim back to her car. So here are some random thoughts to recap:

-I-66, thank you for being our social chair for all these months. You still have to turn up at these HHs though, because it's just not the same without you.
-Average Jane is the craftiest bitch out there because she put together the idea hatched by the both of us and created quite possibly the coolest piece of jewelry ever presented to a blogger. She's also pretty awesome because it was her idea to rap Shoop, and rap we did. Two white girls, one Jewish, one relapsed part-Cuban Catholic sayin: "Can I get some fries with that shake, shake booty/if looks could kill you would be an uzi". And she's just awesome in general.
-Thanks to FreckledK for the suggestion of Peyote Cafe as it was perfect for this HH. And she can sing the hell outta some Nancy Sinatra.
-Consequentially, Sparkles Anon can dance the hell out of Nancy, and it was great to meet you.
-Poor Brunch Bird got inundated with a mix of greetings by all of us smokers, many of us admonishing her for closing shop and I wonder if she thought maybe she shouldn't turn around at that moment. Thankfully she didn't.
-Helen Skor was my favorite new 'meet' of the night, but I think she might have been thinking at one point, TMI, Carrie. TMI. Hopefully she won't hold that against me though.
-Jo can sing the hell out of GNR. Not an easy task. She was serious - she started with Grand Marnier to warm up that voice of hers when I got there. And she's just one of my favorite people out there anyway.
-I owe either Mandy or Arjewtino a beer for the pre-party pizza...I promise to make that up to you guys next time; thanks for the grub! And thanks to Mandy for depositing me safely at a metro station at...I don't even know what time it was.
-I think I may have been a little too enthusiastic in cheering on Arjewtino's rendition of holiday, but hey. That was tequila talking...erm...singing (thanks for the shot, Helen)? Naaaah...no such thing as too enthusiastic when cheering on a Jew singing Greenday.
-We're all in trouble now: LMNT and INPY have taken over as party chairs.

You all seriously fucking rock. I love being reminded of that once a month over many beers. I'll more than likely be in Toronto for May's HH, but as always, I look forward to seeing everyone at the next one.

Did I...

2007-04-28T12:30:00.000Z

...really sing I Touch Myself?

And rap Shoop? With a Jewish girl I went to high school with?

If that's not fun, I don't know what the fuck is. A better recap to come, but I'm in my morning-after-disturbed-drunk-sleep-waking-up-early-portion of my hangover with a side of drink-as-much-water-as-I-can with my 4 Advil and thought I'd just throw this out there. You people fucking rock, by the way. But you knew that.

Book Nerd List Alert

2007-04-27T15:50:00.000Z

From Miss Bettyjoan and FreckledK played along too. I'm not feeling so book nerdy now that I've highlighted the ones that I've read...hmmmm...but now I have a list of books to read I suppose!

And now for something completely different and less literary...I'll see you party people at American Blogstand tonight.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown) - I've read all of Brown's novels
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King) - also read many King novels, the top ones being Carrie and The Dark Half
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley) - one of my very favorite books of all time. I got rid of my old copy and then foundy current copy in a hostel in Bath, England, which is a short ride away from Glastonbury/"Avalon"
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant) - got this on my shelf to read
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella) - I've read all the Shopaholics except the newest one which is also on my bookshelf
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela's Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She's Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger) - just bought it, it's on my bookshelf
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones' Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte's Web (E.B. White) - I still cry when I see the old movie. It was my favorite book as a kid.
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard's First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams) - this movie FREAKED me out as a kid. Still makes me shudder to think about it.
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

The Living Moment is Everything - D.H. Lawrence

2007-04-26T03:47:00.000Z

When I wonder how to not have too many high expectations, I'm often reminded of the maddening phrase, "live in the moment." While this is a wonderful ideal, I have trouble with it in theory.

In this moment, I really want a cheeseburger from Five Guys. And the fries. With lots of Old Bay and vingegar...but what about heart disease? What about the fact that I could use a whole lotta time in the gym?

In this moment, I really want this beautiful leather Kooba bag that's over $700...but what about the fact that's almost three car payments? What about my 401K?

In this moment, I'm okay. I'm happy, I don't feel like I have drag myself out of bed and put myself through the motions of life, so I won't take my anti-depressant cocktail for a few days...but what about the days when my brain chemistry decides to take a vacation and I'm back in bed, ignoring my phone and other responsibilities?

Aren't there always consequences for living in the moment? Isn't there something better we should be eating, spending our money on, spending our energy on? Does eating a ridiculously good cheeseburger or carrying an exceptionally beautiful Italian handbag equal happiness? Not for everyone. Does it signal some other issues like looking to food for comfort and liking "stuff" too much? Quite possibly. But then there we go digging into those things that do feel good and takling ourselves out of them.

We are taught from a fairly young age to plan for the future. In high school, it was getting into a good college and figuring out what you wanted to be when you grow up when you realized "space cowboy" wasn't a real occupation. In college, it was preparing (well, in theory it was) for the real world and a real job and real rent. Then you save for a house and a wife/husband and the things that come with that like an engagement ring or something. Then kids. Then their college funds. And of course your retirement fund.

Where does that leave us? Doesn't sound like living in the moment, and then when we do live in the moment, we find ways to feel crappy about it later. Sometimes five minutes later, sometimes five years.

We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for yesterday and
fear of tomorrow. ~Fulton Oursler

When is it wonderful to live in the moment?

When the sun is shining and I'm driving in my mom's convertible with the top down, the scent of lilacs in the air, and a great song blasting on the radio.

When I think about the man who just made me dinner singing the Temptations and how it made me laugh, as he lays contentedly in my lap.

When my dad, stepmom-to-be, and I came across my grandfather's collection of guns as we cleaned out his house, and we joked about putting our teeth in and taking a family field trip to the shooting range and laughed for a good 10 minutes.

I didn't think about that asshole guy on a crotch rocket who would come up behind me and scare the crap out of me, making me jump into another lane. I didn't wonder what he and I are defined by and I don't worry that he doesn't like me as much I like him. I didn't think about the fact that we are cleaning out my grandparents' house in order to sell it and that one day, that house full of memories wouldn't be ours anymore.

I guess we just have to find more of those moments in our lives. Not worry so much. Easier said than done, but it's a task worth taking on I think.

Great Expectations

2007-04-25T02:15:00.000Z

I always hear, "don't get your hopes up." Ever since I was kid, that phrase is usually uttered to me at least once a week. I wonder if it's because I'm the type of person to always get their hopes for any number of things or if it's just something that everyone hears. If it's the former, this might lead someone to believe that I am an optimist.

I laugh at that someone who thinks that.

Therein lies my confusion: if I'm so prone to getting my hopes up, why can I be such a pessimistic cynic? And why am I constantly scared of getting my hopes dashed? How can you be both ways? Always expecting the best outcome, getting scared for the worst which turns me into a nervous wreck if it's regarding something important.

And the worst part? I don't even realize I'm doing it. I have absolutely no idea how to not get my hopes up. Give me a scenario and the best possible outcome is just implanted in my head. I literally don't even know how it gets there. I of course can imagine it, whatever "it" may be not working out, but I don't know how to prepare for it. I absolutely know how to psych myself out for the worst, but that's not preparing. That's simply not the same as getting myself ready for the opposite of what I want to happen.

I also think it's very unproductive because I'll make myself nuts about something that I have absolutely no control over. And something that I will inevitably get over. I know that when something "bad" happens, it usually only stays bad for a little while, then it doesn't seem so bad, and then finally you're laughing about it. But when it feels bad, it feels baaaaad. Which usually equals me beating myself up for a few days.

Then it doesn't seem so bad. But the damage has been done, I've told myself that I'm stupid or that I'm whatever and that's the shit that sticks in this ol noggin. Not the details of my best friend's job, not making sure I pay my Macy's bill ontime, that's not the stuff that stays. These are the things that creep into the caves in my mind and only come out to egg me on when I'm in the throes of some other bad scenario.

Why can't these things be the sort of emotional training for not getting my hopes up? Teach me not to let myself build a scenario in my head up to heights that I don't even know I want to reach. I've had those big things come true, like getting to sing with Bob Schneider. But like most of us, I've had more things not come true. And I know that it hurt because I built it up like a damned castle on a cloud that took on a life of its own.

I realize life is a dichotomy. Especially with me, Miss Ambiguity herself, always seeing both sides, always experiencing at least two different things at once. But this dichotomy...it's a real bitch.

Karaoke Homework

2007-04-23T20:30:00.000Z

In case you haven't noticed, bloggers are abuzz about this week's Happy Hour. Why? Because many of us will be getting drunk and singing our asses off at I-66's American Blogstand. And let's face it, that just sounds like fun.

In preparation, since I am nothing if not always (well…usually) prepared, I looked up the most popular karaoke songs. You would think this would be a popular internet topic, but alas, not so much. I suppose this is a personal shame, not to be written about for all to read.

Until now.Anyway, some of the most popular songs according to my scientific search:

ABBA, especially Dancing Queen

Like a Virgin

I Will Survive

Redneck Woman

Anything from Grease

Desperado

Killing Me Softly

Bohemian Rhapsody

Because of You (Kelly Clarkson)

Angel

Crazy (Patsy Cline)

Sweet Dreams are Made of These

I would love to sing ABBA, but they go up into those high registers and that's potential for me to scream something out and embarrass myself more than usual. Madonna…that would always be fun. I thought "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" would be good and then I realized my voice cannot mimick Cyndi Lauper's in any way, shape, or form. As much as I'd hate to admit it, "Redneck Woman" would be fun. If I knew more Dixie Chicks, I'd do something with Miss MandyLou. And as I learned during my Christmas Karaoke by fire - when you don't know the words, reading them off a monitor with no vocals to help you is NOT fun.

I don't care if "Bohemian Rhapsody" is overdone, it has to be fun to sing. Same with Grease. I can't imagine ever singing "Sweet Dreams"…it's the same damn thing over and over. I feel like there's gotta be some flare in karaoke. There are a few songs I can sing the hell out of…but not much fun to perform. And karaoke is all about the fun, right? Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this, but if you think that I am…clearly, you don't know me at all.

Freckledk has already offered a cocktail to anyone who sings Leroy Brown and a few others, and I might just take her up on We Built this City. In my important karaoke research, I saw that "Fergilicious" is one of the most popular songs. I will buy a cocktail for someone if they "sing" this for everyone. I'll even buy a couple of shots beforehand if a man gets up and does it. That will be worth it's weight in gold to hear one of you blogger folks go, "And you'll be lining down the block just to taste what I got, I'm Fergilicious."

The same goes for ANYthing Britney Spears or of the boy band vein. The drinks that lead up to those go on my tab. Jo has a great song up her sleeve, and after she told me the more I realized how genius it is. I'm considering Norah Jones, I don't care how overdone that is either.

Things to count on:
1. We will be drunk.

2. People will sing and we will laugh. Always with them, not at them. Unless we don't know them (duh).

3. We will be drunk.

Can't wait, y'all.

PS 9:50 pm - I'm calling on a few of you bloggers who have managed to snake out of HHs for some reason or another, or waffles on the idea of coming. And the role call is: DC Wedding Photog, Bee, beakerz, DC Vita (come back, we miss you!!), Ryane, Helen Skor (I'll sic Jo on you). No one will force you to sing!

Overheard on the Metro

2007-04-20T14:58:00.000Z

Arjewtino regaled us with the dangers of riding the metro during tourist season, but I'm here to tell you about another danger on your evening commute: private school kids' conversations.

Last week, I got on a Shady Grove train straight outta the gate, then I even managed to find two seats to myself. One slight problem though: it was directly behind three teenage boys from some private school on the way back from baseball practice. I immediately had to wonder if it was in fact baseball season based on the shite weather we've had for most of April, but then came to my senses. These brainiacs opted not to talk about baseball, girls, the Simpsons, or whatever teenage boys talk about amongst themselves. They opted to play an educational game.

A topic would be decided upon, like sports, and each one would say a specific sport like baseball, then the next would say another one like football. And around and around they'd go until they ran out of specifics.

Here are some excerpts from the sports conversation (after a few minutes):
Idiot 1: Wrestling
Idiot 2: Track
Idiot 3: Cross country
Idiot 1: He already said that, it's running!
Idiot 3: yeah, but it's long distance running, it's not the same as track.
Idiot 1: Sprinting.

Next topic: Bones.
Idiot 1: Clavicle
Idiot 2: Tibia
Idiot 3: Ummmm…skull.
Idiot 1: That's not a bone!
Idiot 3: yes it is!
Idiot 1: No it's not, it's the whole head!
Idiot 3: Fine, then jaw.
Idiot 2: No, you have to give the real name.
Idiot 3: Like the Latin name? I don't know, I didn't take Latin…oh wait, I have the best one. Coccyx!
No prostestations.

Next topic: Countries. Note, there was some resistance to this one because one idiot wasn't sure how many countries he could name. They did actually go for a little bit before coming to this:
Idiot 1: France
Idiot 2: Mexico
Idiot 3: Iran
Idiot 1: Korea
Idiot 3: It's not just Korea, it's either North or South.
Idiot 1: North Korea
Idiot 2: South Korea
Idiot 3: Cuba
Idiot 2: That's not a country!
Idiot 1: Right, isn't that a territory?
Idiot 3: It's a communist country.
Idiot 2: No it's not, there can't be a communist country. Except for USSR, they're communist, right?
Idiot 1: That's Russia, you idiot.

Animals
Idiot 1: Cow.
Idiot 2: Horse.
Idiot 3: Liger.
Idiot 1: Dude, that's so not a real animal!
Idiot 3: yes it is!
Idiot 1: That's a joke from that movie, Napoleon whatever.
Idiot 3: I'm telling you, it's a real animal. Wanna bet?
Idiot 2: Yes, I'll be you. That's not a real animal!!
Idiot 3: Fine, I bet you my house. I'll bring you proof tomorrow. And if you lose, you have to give me your house.

Newspapers
Idiot 1: Washington Post.
Idiot 2: Washington Times.
Idiot 3: New York Times.
Idiot 1: Wall Street Journal.
Idiot 2: California Post.
Idiot 1: That's not real.
Idiot 2: yes, it is! I saw it when I was there with my family!
Idiot 3: Oh, okay…um…Denver Times.
Man sitting next to them: There is no such paper as the Denver Times.
Idiot 3: Yeah, but they didn't know that!
Idiot 2: And actually, there's no California Post, I just made that up.
Much laughter.

If this isn't a PSA on how your money is well spent if you send your kids to private school, I don't know what is.

What Exactly Does Good on Paper Mean?

2007-04-18T03:24:00.000Z

Good on paper can be applied to so many things: members of the opposite sex (or whoever you date), houses/condos, vacation deals, whatever. I have been thinking a lot about this term over the weekend and I realized something.

Just like the phrase “good on paper” denotes, I’m finding it’s just that…good on paper.

Since I am a fan and an old hat with the online dating, I became very familiar with that phrase. I know exactly what’s good on paper for me. Or good on a computer screen, so to speak. On an online dating site it’s a guy who is 29-31 (since for whatever reason those are my ideal ages for a partner. I don’t know why.), a professional job meaning he’s mainly 9-5, he’s Catholic (even though I’m not practicing, I find that I mesh best with Catholics in general even if *they* aren’t practicing), never married/no kids, is interested in some of the same things I am in that it usually includes a mention of the following things, which are inclusive but not limited to: 80s movies and/or music, literature beyond James Patterson, Lost/Entourage, love of exploring DC and trying new things. Etc. Etc.

I’ve met those guys. Sometimes they were great, most of the time they just…were. It’s easy to get excited about someone based on what they’ve written on a neat and tidy online profile. Or even a blog. But the reality is usually different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse, sometimes neither. Seeing someone on paper gives a person a false sense of knowing someone. And yes, you do end up knowing a little bit about someone than you would say if you met them in a bar, at a party, at work. You find out that they watch Entourage every Sunday night religiously through a series of discussions, not usually something you learn straight out of the gate, so when you say, “You want to hug it out?” you can get a laugh without seeming weird.

For me, meeting dates online is a lot easier than meeting them in ‘real’ life. Call me what you will, but I just don’t meet a whole lot of men in the course of my days or through my friends. It just hasn’t worked out. Sometimes I wonder what in the hell I would do if I met someone through ‘regular’ means – no initial email exchanges, no initial acceptance of a person based on a few factoids. So this led me to think that I would do best with men on paper.

Although I didn’t necessarily mean for this to be about dating, I find it’s the best example in my life. I’m finding these days that some of the things I thought I knew like this…it’s just not that black and white. I’ve never thought that life was black and white. I take that back, yes I did. My life was poorer for it, except when I was a kid when black and white meant right and wrong, and when you’re a child, those boundaries are easy to define. As a grown up, not so much. Life is full of uncertainty, which I love and hate at the same time. There were some things, some ‘guidelines’ I developed for myself to figure out some things, to put myself in check. Many of those guidelines work. But some of them are just made up. I’m finding that life just doesn’t allow ‘you’ to say ‘this is the way it is’ all the time.

Sometimes that is an absolute bitch. But sometimes…it’s wonderful. Variety is the spice of life, so they say. I’m finding that it’s not so bad.

Mirror Mirror, on the Wall...Who is the fairest of them all?

2007-04-16T09:52:00.000Z

Admit it. We all think, on some level, that we are beautiful. Yes, we all have those moments (days, weeks, whatever) that we think we look terrible and we're ugly, blah blah blah. Of course we do. But overall, we really do believe that we are attractive people.

Now think about your friends. Your close friends, your more casual friends. How many of them would you say are unattractive? Like your few best friends - do you think they fell out of the ugly tree?

Probably not. However, there are people in this world who look at you and/or your friends and think: ugly.*

What's my point? Well, we all know that looks are important when it comes to attracting the opposite sex. That seems to be something that I've noticed a lot of people saying lately - online dating profiles specifically, and a few bloggers have touched on the subject either specifically or more generally. But 'good looking' is so incredibly subjective. And chances are, once you get to know a person (unless they are a complete and utter asshole), and if *you* think they are pretty cool, then they probably end up being attractive in your eyes.

There are absolutely people out there that 9 out of 10 people would say, s/he is HOTT. Whether they be a celebrity or a friend, those inherently beautiful people are there. But they're fairly few and far between.

Remember the beginning of Sex and the City? (I can hear the collective groan, shut up) Miranda was heinously unattractive, and so were most of the men that the four women dated/slept with. But, with notable exceptions: Mr. Big, Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha. Chris Noth is pretty classic good looking. As are Kristin David and Kim Catrall, mostly. Sarah Jessica Parker is a little more subjective - I think she's beautiful, but I know that there are people out there who don't think so. The guys that the SATC characters dated were at best average looking in the first couple of seasons. Then they started dating the Aidans (John Corbett) and the Treys (Kyle McLachlan) and the Smiths (Jason Lewis). Men do not look like this in real life.

As you all know, I'll look around on Craigslist, match.com, whatever to look at dating profiles. I learned a few years ago that a guy can be tall, football player build, have brown hair and blue eyes (all traits I like), but still be unattractive. To me. Reading about people via online dating is tricky because it's so easy to build up a great person based on 1000 words and a few well snapped photos. Or even just know a bit about a person before seeing what they look like and being disappointed because they don't look like what you expected - either in a picture or in person. I've had both happen to me, as I'm sure most people have (regardless of a date situation or not).

So it bothers me a little bit to see how so many people go on and on about how looks are so important to them in their profiles, in blogs, in whatever manner they choose to express this. Looks ARE important, and you should definitely present the best 'you' when meeting someone new. But that 'you' didn't roll out of bed looking like that (male or female!). And that 'you' doesn't show a bit of what's on the inside.

I know that inner beauty won't get you laid. But I think that it's a really harsh, sweeping statement to make as well. People will ask me about a guy I'm seeing or whatever, 'is he cute?' Well, he is to me. He might not be to others, but yeah, I'm seeing someone who I find attractive. Does attractive automatically equal chiseled features and could double for a model? Absolutely not. Attraction is a lot more tricky than that.

I was telling a friend over coffee this weekend just how tricky it is for me. I rarely find myself out with men who I drool over prior to knowing a single thing about them. Truth be told, I'm a little intimidated by those guys. Which reflects on my insecurities in some ways, but hey. I know about it, I'm aware. But besides that, I've found that I have deeper connections with people who it's not just a physical attraction with. I've gone out with guys who I wasn't even sure I was attracted to in a few dates. Then I kissed him and it was practically fireworks . Or it was awful. Or they'll do something that really gets to me in a great way; say something that makes me smile for days.

I imagine it's the same for most people. So I don't really understand all this 'you MUST be hot to get anywhere' bullshit. Because guess what? The percentage of truly hot people in this world? Less than 1%, based on societal standards. Those being great hair, great eyes, chiseled features, white and straight teeth, proportional bodies, curves in the right places for women, broadness in the right places for men. Does that make the rest of us horribly ugly? Hell no. Don't even get me started how it's more acceptable for men to be less attractive than women. But that's a whole separate post.

Beauty really is more than skin deep. At least it is to me.

*I'm included in this as well - this is *not* to pick on anyone in particular. Please assume "you" is the universal you.

Triskaidekaphophia

2007-04-13T17:56:00.000Z

Triska-HUH? That's the irrational fear of the number 13. Today is Friday the 13th….booga booga! I have been known to be superstitious on selective occasions. However, today is not one of them. Tonight, I'm going to see my most favorite musician, Bob Schneider, with two of my favorite people. And it's Friday. Friday is never a bad thing. The Yahoo 80s station started off with "Like a Prayer" by Bon Jovi and as I write this, is playing the Bangles. (Those are actually good things, people.) I stopped at Marvelous Market to grab lunch today, which I never do, but I happened to be on that side of the Circle. I got chips, a sandwich, can of soda and some rasberry flavored licorice type things. The total? $13.13. On Friday the 13th.

It was the best sandwich EVER. And the letters of my name don't add up to 13, so I figure I'm safe, right?

Stay tuned on Monday when I relay a story of being rearended by Toonces the driving Cat or something similarly ridiculous because I mocked Friday the 13th.

Happy Friday. No matter what date it is.

"These Are the Things My Head Heard Last Night"

2007-04-11T03:56:00.000Z

“One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. Which road do I take? she asked. Where do you want to go? was his response. I don't know, Alice answered. Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter.” Lewis Carroll

We all have looked back on our lives and wondered what might be different had we chosen differently. I was doing some spring cleaning tonight and I was faced with that "what if I had...?" moment when I picked up a self-published book of poetry by an old friend of mine. I forgot that I had it. I was flipping through it and landed on a poem that I will never, ever forget and that I look back on now as one of those possibly fortuitous forks in the roads.

I didn't take it.

Back when the internet was brand spanking new and still pretty weird, my parents started subscribing to AOL. I found myself in chat rooms doing the age/sex/location check and one day, found myself talking to someone whose handle had something to do with the Doors. When I was in high school I thought Jim Morrisson was quite possibly the coolest person the face of the earth and read anything I could get my hands on. So another tortured youth who thought the same, minus the acid? Score! We became friends, logging way too much time on AOL to the point where our parents scolded us for all the hours they were being charged. My stepfather even made a graph. My friend and I devised a way to still write and receive marathon emails: write it in WordPerfect and attach it to the AOL email. We had disks and disks full of emails to and from each other. The big floppy disks that we use as kitschy coasters now.

I was 16 and talking to a similarly angst ridden and misunderstood teenager just a couple of hours away in Pennsylvania. He was 17. And had a girlfriend. But we were just friends. When I look back at my teenage years, I was a scared little girl. Scared of myself, of everyone else, more than anything scared of getting hurt. To find someone who seemed to get that was simply amazing. And be able to communicate with them in an innocuous yet intensely personal way was even better. Especially since both of us were writers and were much better at getting out our thoughts and other things that can't always be conveyed in spoken words out. We spoke each other's language. He was even a poet, which I thought was the most romantic and amazing thing ever.

A year passed. He broke up with his girlfriend. I invited him to my homecoming for my senior year and he accepted. He was a freshman in college at this point, so I drove up just past the PA border to get him at a bus station. I had never been so scared or excited about ANYthing in my entire life. But once he got there, it all felt like too much. I didn't know how to handle being WITH him with no buffers, no nothing. I shut down a little bit. After homecoming activities, me, my date and some friends were taking a walk through the woods. I have no idea why, looking back on it, but I remember when my date took my hand as we were walking. When I thought I couldn't be any more excited or scared, I found that I absolutely could in that moment.

The weekend passed. Nothing happened beyond the hand holding because I was so scared I think I probably kept a good 5 feet away from him at all times. Over the Christmas holidays, he invited me up to his family's house and I went. He gave me a Christmas gift - a small journal with a bunch of his poetry, most of it about me. It was beautiful. Romantic. Sweet. Terrifying. After he gave me the book of poetry, I stayed probably 10 feet away from him.

I am the first to admit that I had built up so many expectations of Mr. Perfect in my head ever since I was old enough to realize that I liked boys. When I was in high school, he would be a similarly misunderstood, slightly alternative youth. Smart, poetic, creative. Like me. He would absolutely know what romance was. I found that guy. And when I was literally presented with everything I thought I wanted, I ran away.

It is said that you should be careful what you wish for, and that it's a good thing you don't always get what you want, that what you think you want couldn't be further from what you need. I've learned that lesson many, many times over. Especially when it comes to men. Over the last 13 years of my dating life, I always wanted something more, something perfect, ideal. Looking back, I think I was given that perfect 'thing'. But once it was in front of me, it scared the shit out of me.

At 30, I find myself still scared to death of a lot of things. Not always the things I was scared of when I was 16, 21, 26. Some of those things are laughable now, I stand up to them with little effort because it's become a part of who I am. I learned tough lessons, I grew, I dug deep and came up with a better Carrie. I realized that I looked for the perfect, the unattainable when it came to men and I have dug and figured out why I did that. I continue to make mistakes - who doesn't? I look back at the three guys I dated last year and can think of a million things I would have, I should have done differently. Hindsight is 20/20 of course.

I realized that there is no right or wrong way of doing something, I realized that it's not as simple as following your heart or your head or finding a compromise between the two. I realized that it's simply about doing what you feel is right inside, from some place deeper than just your heart, or maybe it is your heart tempered with your head, with your mother's advice, with no one's advice. It doesn't matter WHAT you do to get what you want, it only matters how you deal with it once you get it or you don't.

But this one person, this old fork in the road that I ran screaming from...it still makes me wonder. Would I have realized these things earlier? Would I have had an amazing relationship with someone? Or even if it wasn't amazing, what would it have taught me? Something invaluable that would make me feel more confident about myself and my choices in my love life? Did I hurt him? I've been hurt by unrequited love, and then I have been the person doing the hurting and it kills me. He was wonderful, and I hurt him because I couldn't come up with it. I couldn't face myself. What if I had? What would be different today?

We still talk occasionally today. After his rebuffed poetic attempt at my heart, he found another girlfriend in college. He went to law school. He found another girlfriend. His family still remembers me fondly and got excited when they found out we were having lunch last year for the first time in about 4 years. He has another girlfriend, a lovely woman. He grew into his nose, into his semi-gangly body. He still has the same sense of humor, he still remembers the disks full of emails we used to send to each other. The card he gave me for my birthday made me remember when I was so excited to see his handwriting and see something he wrote for me with the funny way he writes his letter 'k'. It reminded me of so many things from so many years ago.

We have never talked about what didn't happen between us. After 12 years, we've never talked about it. Regret is a stupid thing. I know now to make certain decisions based on the question: will I regret if I do? Will I regret it if I don't? I didn't have that litmus test when I was 18. I know I shouldn't be disappointed in myself for something I did or didn't do when I was 17 or 18, before I was old enough to know better. But this is one of those things that digs in and nags at me. Finding that book tonight, seeing "Beauty beside me/holding my hand and/nervous as I turn/to face fate..." It made me wonder. Was I a fool?

I like to think not. I learned, and I learn everyday, that fear can not get the best of me. It shouldn't get the worse of me; fea should get nothing from me. But sometimes...I still wonder.

Friday Music Lesson: Bob Schneider

2007-04-06T18:26:00.000Z

Over the last several weeks, many of you have been harassed by me about my favorite music artist, Bob Schneider. I've told you how amazing he is and how much fun his shows are. Many of you get the schpeil from me because you're knowledgeable about music and you're a lot of fun, so when you put these two things together you usually end up with Bob. Well, I'm going to attempt to back it up today in this here blog post in hopes to round up a group to go to his show next week at the State Theatre.

Bob's a fixture in the Austin, Texas music scene. He's been in several bands: the Ugly Americans, then onto the Scabs - complete with a full horns section and raunchy, hysterical lyrics. Their Thursday night shows at Antones were legendary. Bob went onto a solo career, forming the band Lonelyland, and has released several albums since then. I first heard Bob on a beach trip with some girlfriends and while I was initially shocked at the lyrics, thought he had an awesome and very sexy voice. Then another friend bought Lonelyland, which I loved. I saw him about a year later at a club in Dallas, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Bob is a really eclectic musician, plays everything from straight rock to country to jazz to rap to whatever ridiculous combination you can think of. And makes it sound good. Here's a rundown of several of his albums and the tracks to grab from them if you're looking for some soundbites.

Boom Boom Baby, Ugly Americans - Definitely grab the title track "Boom Boom Baby" and make sure to get the uncensored version as it's about the art of cunnilingus. My other favorite tracks are "Orlando" and "Vulcan Death Grip (from Stereophonic Spanish Fly)." Bergle knows a guy who used to play with the Ugly Americans. I saw him (the guitarist, not Bergle) perform with Bob and company last year at the State Theatre and they did all three of these songs. You *never* get to hear the latter two live; it rocked.

Freebird, The Scabs - This is a live show from Antones. My two favorite tracks on here are "Pushin' on the Pull Bar" and "Big Butts and Blow Jobs." Great horns in all the tracks on here. Another great song is "Pussy Fever," and not just because of the title, it's got a great beat and it's totally catchy. All of the Scabs songs are infectious. No pun intended. Concert staples of Bob's are "Tarantula" and "Bombananza". You almost never hear the same version of these songs twice. He always mixes them up somehow, so it's never boring.

Galaxy Kings - A totally jazzy and funky album, one of my very favorites by him. I love every track. One of his most country songs is on here, and it's a beautiful one (and I don't even like country all that much!) called "Good Luck."

Songs Sung and Played on Guitar - A mainly acoustic album, very mellow. I like listening to this album at night on my balcony, smoking a cigarette in the dark. There's a great cover of "Over the Rainbow" of Wizard of Oz fame. "Chinatown" is also great. One of the things I love about Bob so much is that his guitar is very percussive. It has a beat of its own. I love percussion anyway, so to blend it with guitar makes it that much better for me. Another album that I love every track.

Lonelyland - This was Bob's solo swan song. Every track is good, but there are some waaaaay better than others. My favorites are "Big Blue Sea" which is also a concert staple. "Tokyo" and "Bullets" are my other two favorites. "Round and Round" will always have a special place in my heart, as I've performed with Bob on this song three different times - once in Denton, TX, once at the 8x10 in Towson, and once at the Birchmere. It was always a dream of mine to sing onstage with a band I loved, and I got to do it. And twice was asked by Bob to sing with him. So cool.

I'm Good Now - I was initially really excited about this album because he had a lot of tracks on here that he'd been playing live for a long time. I thought it would be great to have them in a mastered format. But I think that some of the life was taken out of the songs when they got put on an album. Bob has always supported fan recordings of his shows, and actually let fans plug into the soundboard or let his engineer send out the soundboard recording for distribution amongst fans. So I knew most of these songs from the shows I had been to and then all the recordings I have. However, there are still some gems on the album like the really upbeat "I'm Good Now" and "Captain Kirk." Any of these songs that get played live always sound amazing.

The Californian - This is his latest release. Not my favorite, but there are definitely some good songs on here, and a couple that I absolutely love. Once again, I was thrilled to see that a concert staple made it onto an album: "Mudhouse" and "The Californian" and they translated really well. Another favorite is "Everthing I Have Means Nothing to Me Now."

If you check out Bob's website, you can listen to most of these tracks from 4 of his albums (Lonelyland, I'm Good Now, The Californian, and I've Seen the End of The World…). I don't suggest listening to the latter, as I don't ever touch that album. Not representative of Bob at all. There is commentary peppered between tracks, FYI. So when you hear someone going 'ummm' or "so...this next song..." on your speakers, it's just Bob. I swear, he's not a stoner in person. You can also listen to samples of songs on Amazon, and on a few albums from Bob's music shop via his website. Or grab some music from whereever you download stuff from. It's well worth it.

There are tons of songs that never made it onto albums, covers, etc. One of my favorites he does live is "Assknocker" with sample lyrics of "All I wanna do is rock this motherfucker all night long, y'all/non stop until the crack of dawn, y'all/assknockin' till the break of dawn/stop over with the goodies and get it on" and my favorite cover he's ever done is "You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman." His keyboardist will play the Peanuts theme. They'll combine "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Mercedes Benz" with the most amazing harmonies. These guys fucking rock.

If you like what you hear, or if you're even just curious and want to see an awesome, fun show at a great venue, let me know. Next Friday the 13th at State Theatre. I'll be there with a couple of friends and am looking forward to having a great time. The more the merrier! You know how to get me.

Just Wondering...

2007-04-05T14:05:00.000Z

Why do people sound surprised when they get my work voicemail? "Oh, hi, Carrie...um, this is so-and-s0 and I'm calling about..." Like it's absolutely amazing that they are getting MY voicemail. Carrie? At her place of work? Get outta town!!

I ask callers to identify which meeting they are referring to since I manage three different events. In the voicemails, they first, sound surprised (see above), then go on to identify the meeting. By it's full, lengthy name. Then tell me where the meeting is. Then what the dates are. It's my job to run a certain aspect of these three meetings, so guess what? I know what they're called. I know where they are. And I know when they are. Get. To. The. Point.

What the hell is so addicting that's in Coke Zero? And Cherry Coke Zero? They complete me.

How can it be so warm and lovely for a few days and then drop back down into the 30s? I know this is the cruelty of spring, but after two lunches sitting in the sun in Dupont, breaking out my winter coat to go to work seems especially crappy.

If I could be more excited about the fact that Entourage is starting again? I-66 has already covered this, but I'd like to add my Entourage joy in just one more place.

How is that I keep getting downstairs neighbors that walk so hard it shakes MY apartment one floor up?

Is LOST ever going to ask one of the Others just what the FUCK is going on? They've had ample opportunity, all kinds of chit-chat-getting-to-know-you-time with one or more Others. So what gives? It's like the freaking X-Files in Paradise.

Where the hell has this week gone? I haven't had time to sit down and write one of my 'usual' posts. This is the best I got this week. I do apologize.

Oh, and the photo? That's my mom's dog with her face between two couch cushions last Christmas. Dogs are silly.

Cocktail Hour

2007-04-02T02:22:00.000Z

Thursday night was I-66’s second to last blogger happy hour, and was a great time as usual. It was great seeing all of you who I’ve met before again, and awesome to meet those who I haven’t. Especially Average Jane, who I discovered, was a freshman when I was a senior. In high school. When you grow up in the area, it’s inevitable that former classmates pop up from time to time, but it had been a long time since I’d had a high school flashback. Luckily, it was a good one. And those of you who I see/talk to on a regular basis, y'all already know I love hanging out with you! People had a penchant for just straight up disappearing though. I-66 was mysteriously gone, then Arjewtino. I wasn’t that drunk, so when did you two get so stealthy?

Most of my weekend was spent cleaning out the 2nd floor of my grandparents’ house. My grandparents literally threw nothing souvenir/keepsake-y away in 40 years. In case my dad wanted to know what grades he got in 4th grade, we could tell him. A letter from the DMV telling my grandfather he had 3 points on his license in 1969? Got that too! They filled up a drawer with stuff, when it was full, they closed it and that was it. Multiply that by a few cabinets, 5 closets, several dressers and a whole room full of junk and you’re close.

Since my grandfather owned gas stations and his heyday was in the 50s-60s, drinking was practically a sport. He had customers and colleagues that would bring him bottles of liquor and they would drink them together or he’d put them in his bar. My grandparents did a bit of entertaining as well, and I unearthed these gems relating to the happiest of hours: cocktail hour.

In case you needed a fun way to dispense your shots, check this out: The One Armed Boozer. There’s a tube that goes into the bottle to get the liquor, you pull the lever and depending on what you get, the Boozer dispenses a ¼ shot, ½ shot and so on. Oh, there’s a handy little shot catcher that attaches on.
Or how about the coozie predecessor, these handy dandy coasters? Here’s the box and then there’s on one of my narrower glasses. I think they’ll work on beer bottles too.
My grandfather was from Texas, so I suppose this was saved because it was related to the state (we have a wall mounted set of longhorns downstairs too). My favorite feature of the can is the quote on the bottom, “If you have to ask how much my beer costs, you probably can’t afford it.” Thanks, JR Ewing!
Don’t forget that smoking was considered practically healthy back in the day. I love collecting matchbooks, so I snagged all the ones my grandfather saved over the years. They just don’t make ‘em like this anymore. There’s one in the third row you might not be able to make out what it is but that’s the president’s seal. Or how about the one from Walt Disney World? That’s when smoking was fun!
Whatever happened to good old fashioned drink stirrers? My granddad probably stirred up his bourbon and water with these when he was in Atlantic City. Like matchbooks, I love stirrers and drink paraphernalia. I saved the ones on the right from a drink from Texas. And who thinks they wouldn’t come in handy?!
I love retro bar accessories, which is why I took a lot of this stuff. I’m hoping to have my own bar area in a place I own someday, so I’ll put these away in a box until I find that place. I just have to make sure they don’t get stored away and lost forever. My retro bar will kick ass, and I'll have one hell of a bar christening someday. I'll be sure to have an Old Grandad on hand to say thanks.

Beauty Secrets

2007-03-29T16:28:00.000Z

I'm a girly girl in that I love makeup and have 6 different kinds of skincare products just for my face. I read Glamour, Lucky, and Allure (but never Cosmo or Vogue). These magazines are always keen to tell us the things we do that drive men wild in the bedroom and out, and in the good ways and the bad. I remember an article earlier last year that had photos of the contents of a woman's purse and men's thoughts on what the girl must be like and whether or not he'd like to date her. Just by the contents of her purse. The results were kinda startling.

Then in January, I read an article on how women go to great lengths to hide their beauty routines from their boyfriends. I remember reading a post last year by Capitol Hill Barbie about her boyfriend's less than positive reaction to one of her beauty routines, but then he's also dug around in her bag looking for her rosebud salve. I myself don't go into great detail about what I do and don't do in terms of my beauty routines to the men in my life (ha!), but those of you who read this blog probably know that I mention Sephora and beauty counters enough to realize I like that kind of crap.

I've always wondered if my mention and obvious love of much that involves beauty is a signal to men that I'm high maintenence or vain or something else unflattering that I don't think I am. So I'm going to lay bare a few of my beauty secrets - the contents of the shelves in my bathroom. And see if I'm over the top when it comes to my beauty stuff.

1. My travel toiletry bag, deodorant and facial moisturizer.
2. A candle, salt scrub, and two hairsprays for the rare occasion I put product in my hair. Nothing truly superfluous yet.
3. Skincare products - exfoliator, spot treatment, facial mask, an errant hair elastic.
4. Random things like bobby pins, a makeup quad, the tiny funnel that goes to my perfume atomizer, the box for an eyelash curler, nail files.
5. Crest white strips, nail polish, more skincare and another hair product that I hardly ever use. 6. This little chest of drawers has hair clips and elastics in the top one and the bottom two are mostly lipsticks/lip glosses, which is my biggest makeup weakness. Then an extra tube of toothpaste and a couple of makeup pots (concealer, blush)
7. The pink bag has mostly abandoned eye shadows and such that I hardly ever use. It also has refills of the kind of mineral make up I do use (the main 'kit' is in my bag). The white and blue bags are various bags I cycle through to carry my crap when I travel - there are probably 3 bags within the one, although I never use all of them at once.
8. Makeup brushes, a few loose eyeshadows that I have been using on some evenings out lately. The colorful thing behind the little pots is the 2006 holiday compact from Sephora (it holds their gift cards).
9. The brush and hair clip are self explanatory. The box had a kit of makeup stuff and I just like it too much to throw it out and I haven't found a home for it yet. The rest is nail polish remover, body lotion and oil. A girl's gotta keep her skin soft.

So there you have it. There are a couple of other places where I keep beauty loot, but this is the bulk of it. I don't think it's too much, especially since I realized that I don't use even half of what I own, and that I don't look like a she-lacqued would be beauty pageant contestant when I leave the house.

Is this information grounds for calling a person high maintanence? Or saying that you would date someone? Do men think we wake up looking perfect? Are we less desireable because some of us need a little help or that we have to use a few products to make our skin so soft that men comment on it? Sure, I'd like people to think I wake up looking fabulous, but I don't live in the movies. And am I worse off for it, in the eyes of men, in light of that fact? Because guess what, guys. I don't think that even Giselle Bunchen wakes up and thinks she looks fabulous.

Say what you will! I do admit that I feel like I've laid myself a bit bare by listing and then showing the blogosphere the contents of my bathroom shelves. That's kinda strange, but I live right on the edge, don't I? Take that, Allure.

You can judge my beauty routines for yourself in person tonight - although keep any less than flattering comments to yourself please. There is no salve for a bruised ego at Sephora. I'll be at I-66's Blogger Happy Hour tonight. See y'all there!