What's My Deal?

Hey! You know who could use some good ju-ju, such as the type that might result from Paying It Forward? ME! THAT'S WHO! I'm a fucking mess over here!

So. Let's do this Pay It Forward thing, shall we? Do we have to CHIT-CHAT about it? Is this the only blog you people READ? If so, you've certainly had some free time on your hands lately, eh?

Anyway. Executive Summary. You leave a comment on this post by this Friday. I pick one of you, maybe randomly, maybe based on an elaborate system of FAVORITISM, how the hell will you know? I'm in charge here! Then. I send you a present. Maybe an "I Wish I Were Dead" mug. Who knows. You never can tell with me. Man, I make this sound GOOD, don't I?

After that, in theory you Pay It Forward by doing the same thing. I mean, if you want to. I'm not the boss of you.

Don't you roll your eyes at me, either, you jaded bastards! You will enter my contest and YOU WILL LIKE IT! Throw me a fricking BONE here!

Here is the theme I have carefully selected for your comments: What's My Deal?

My sister used to play a game in public places called "What's Their Deal?". You know, she would just watch people and try to figure out what was going on with them. Always hilarious and good for a little pick-me-up.

Many of you have guessed that something, or some combination of things, is/are up with me. So, I want to hear YOUR hilarious and thought-provoking guesses. If you already know, just be creative, for gods sake!

What's my deal?

THE SHAME, It Causes Me to Update Through My Goddamned PHONE

Man, you are all a bunch of hand-wringing motherfuckers, ya know that? AND I LOVE YOU.

Better-late-than-never Friday Fun Fact: I'm in Minnesota with AD. Sort of a spur of the moment, last-chance-to-fly-toddler-for-free deal. Slash FAMILY REUNION. Jesus. Is that like a one-two punch of shitty "vacation", or what?

Anyway, I only have access to internet through the new BatPhone, which I think we've established is way, WAY smarter than me. In fact, it's a goddamned miracle that I was able to type this much. WITH PUNCTUATION. That caps thing alone just took like 5 minutes. But I persevere! FOR YOU!

(You: *sarcastic slow clap*)

Be back soon when the fam's off my ass. Thanks for caring.

xoxox

Mall Rat

So, yesterday I had occasion to shop at the mall. ALONE. I know, right? BEST DAY OF MY LIFE! Other than the crowds of heat-avoiding teenyboppers (Do we still SAY that? Who am I, Dick Clark on American Bandstand?). Speaking of which, what the FUCK, teenyboppers? In my day, we spent summers at the pool, frying ourselves to a crisp and "flirting" with boys by walking by in packs 8-10 times an hour. Granted, we didn't HAVE a mall, but I'm sorry, the mall just doesn't scream SUMMER to me. It's fucking depressing. You need your Vitamin D, you pasty, texting city rats. SRSLY. LOL.

Anyhoozers! Two things about the mall:

*Listen. I went inside Forever 21. Let's just get that out there. I don't know what got into me. It was right next to Waldenbooks, and I just sort of...drifted in. I spent the entire time playing a little game I like to call Shirt? Or Dress? No Seriously. Shirt or Dress? Um. I could not even identify the PURPOSE of some of the clothes. So that was a morale booster. Also, 21 was one of the shittier years of my life, so I'm not sure why I was hoping to memorialize it with a shirt (or dress?).

*I did buy a pair of jeans, (Aeropostle if you must know, and shut your mouth!) so I was carrying around my bag, and my purse, and then I bought a pop too, and I felt like a goddamned PACK MULE, you guys! I was like, this fucking sucks! Why do I have to carry all of this...SHIT? And I felt so beaten down, and then I remembered why: I haven't shopped at the mall without a stroller (slash shit storage unit) in like TWO YEARS! Shopping with a stroller is a totally hands-free experience, and I'd forgottten how SWEET that is. Next time I find myself at the mall alone, I'm bringing the stroller ANYWAY. Well, either that or a backpack and one of those beverage-dispensing hats.

Fun Fact Friday!

*My kindergarten teacher's name was Mrs. Ciceretti. We called her Mrs. Spaghetti. I'm kind of wondering why she let us. Was she really THAT beaten down over her name?

*My kindergarten "boyfriend"'s name was Teddy Masacotti. What I want to know is, how in the hell did I know all of these ITALIAN people in Random, Minnesota?

*When I was 6 and my sister was 4, we attended my uncle's wedding in Death Valley, CA. It was over 100 degrees, the air conditioner was out in the church, and our crayons exploded in the trunk of the car. Here we are thoroughly enjoying ourselves (with matching outfits!):

*At the time that picture was taken, my dad was FOUR YEARS YOUNGER than I am now. GAH!

*I was in New York City in November 2001. I saw so many incredible memorials all over the city; I particularly remember one outside a fire station near Lincoln Center. I didn't take any pictures because at the time it felt disrespectful. I wish I would have.

*On September 11th, I was working on the 24th floor of the Hunt Oil Building in downtown Dallas.

*I sleep on flannel sheets all year round.

*I keep my thermostat set to 72 degrees, even in the summer. This is SCANDALOUS, and I KNOW THIS. I can't stand being hot in my own house.

*I know I'm a downer and completely, utterly, lame lately, but I'm okay. Thanks so much to everyone who has emailed to check on me. People are mostly good, huh? I think so.

SIGH

Well, I am experiencing an epic case of the Fuck-Its, here. I'm sorry for being so lame, dudes, but...the only thing that is likely to cheer me up is talking about So You Think You Can Dance. I am SO SORRY. And yet...there it is.

My crush on Gev has grown into a pretty gigantor LOVE AFFAIH, I must say.

Was this not the hottest thing you have seen in a long, LONG time? SIGH. Talk about going offstage and making out. I will make out with you Gev! I WILL!

Spacey

So, I've been a little slacky and spacey and...OFF lately, eh? I need to take one of those kicky "mental health days" or whatthefuckever, instead of sitting pathetically at my desk, slumped down in my chair, staring off into space and drinking tepid coffee. I am a champion stare-off-into-spacer, have I told you guys that? I'll bet I could sit quietly in a chair for at least an hour, never once actually DOING anything. Except staring off into space. It's actually quite a handy work (slash LIFE) skill. I notice that in addition to the rampant meat-avoiding, most of you seem to be the get-up-and-GO! types. I picture you rarely, if ever, staring off into space. PFFT. You really should do more Nothing. I'm just sayin. Perhaps it's the meat weighing me down.

ANYWAY. I've been up to a COUPLE of things, besides staring off into space.

1)Seasonal cookies. I bought red, white, and blue sugar cookies at SuperTarget. Correlation to cruise theme? Low to Really Pushing It. This was my lamest effort YET. I must say, I'm a little concerned with the rapid pace of my descent into Who Gives A Shit here. And I only have ONE kid, and she's not even TWO! You know, I used to bitterly recall the story of my own mother, who was asked to provide me with a mat for napping when I started Kindergarten and complied by PICKING A RUG UP OFF THE FLOOR, WASHING IT AND SENDING ME ON MY WAY, but now I'm kinda seeing how one gets to that point. It's a slippery slope, yo.

2)I saw Made of Honor this weekend. You know, the movie with McDreamy from Greys Anatomy? The one that I liked better the first time, when it was called My Best Friend's Wedding? If you replaced all of the likeable actors with flaming tools and tacked on the lamest possible ending? Yeah. That one. I wanted to like it, I really did, but: NO. First, let me just reveal this fun fact: I do not think McDreamy is dreamy, whatsoever. I do not get the squee over Patrick Dempsey, I really don't. In fact, NONE of the guys on Greys really do it for me, if you must know, and I have spent significant time staring off into space on it. ANYWAY. The movie. It sucked. The actors had zero chemistry and McDreamy is a McDouchey and I hated all of the characters intensely. The End.

I should have just stayed in my car and stared off into space for 2 hours. Just me and my STELLAR MOOD to keep me company.

Fun Fact Friday

*I bought a new water bottle at Target this week, and...it is WAY too big. It holds 52 OUNCES for chrissakes. That is RIDICULOUS. Plus, it's too big for my absorbent stone coaster thingee and now I leak ice water sweat all over my "important work documents" (aging sticky notes and assorted restaurant napkins).

*I once spent over 12 hours in a booth at our favorite college dive bar.

*Back in my day, you could get a 20 oz beer there for $1.25.

*Or, you could go to the now-defunct "Continental Cowboy" for 10-cent drafts, which the TABC later outlawed on the grounds that it "encouraged binge drinking". YA THINK?

*I cannot stop buying AD bathing suits. She is at a stage right now where she just looks SO CUTE in EVERYTHING. Don't we all, this time of year?

*I'm mildly obsessed with Boston Market lately. I keep going back and back and BACK for the 1/4 dark Tuscan chicken meal with Caesar salad. Man, that chicken is greasy and delicious, and the skin falls right off so you can eat it in one crispy, saturated-fat-laden bite. Sorry meat-avoiders.

*If I get ONE MORE form from the US Census Bureau at work, I am setting this place on FIRE and walking away, cackling like the mad fucking hatter.

*My sister emailed to tell me she had received the mug she had ordered, and the subject of her email was "Nudie Magazine Day!!". Now come on. That is hilarious. She really needs a blog.

*Come to think of it, whenever someone habitually sends me funny and/or well-written emails, I have a bad habit of insisting that they start a blog. Pretty sure that's annoying. Also, I read ENOUGH blogs as it is.

*These aren't really very...FACT-y this week. They're more like "fun(ish) sentences, none of which deserves its own post". Well, except for the 12-hours-in-a-booth-at-a-dive-bar thing. I could probably talk more about that. If I remembered it.

Only A Tiny Fraction of You Will Care About This Post, But YOU ARE MY PEOPLE

You guys, I love So You Think You Can Dance SO MUCH. It's by far my favorite reality show, and you don't even want to KNOW what the sample size is.

Dancers I ALREADY have a crush on, after only the first competition show:

Twitch

I love him. Totally my favorite. He is just so CUTE, and happy to be there, and CUTE.

Gev

Reminds me of Dominic from last year, who I had a GIANT crush on (aside: wasn't it so cute how Dominic showed up for the auditions and slobbered all over whatshername? Oh Dominic. You are so clearly not gay.) Anyway. Live in the now. Gev. LOVE.

Thayne

Token Mormon pretty-boy, but who the hell cares? He fakes manly well, at any rate. I'm in, at least for now.

Yeah, there are some girls on the show too. Whatever. Girls who can dance are a dime a dozen, am I right or AM I RIGHT? I mean, you can tell me who your favorite girls are, if you must, but don't you dare say Katee, or I WILL CUTCHU. Blerrgg.

Anyway. Snapping out of my Katee-hating fugue here. I love watching to see which couples have the best "chemistry" (i.e. are totally hot for each other). And here's what I want to know: I wonder if they ever go offstage after their routines and just start...MAKING OUT? Come on. You know it's happened once or twice. I'm going to be looking for that on the DVD extras.

Don't Worry Skimmers. It's All Good.

Listen up, skimmers! I haven't actually DONE the seasonal cookies thing yet! It's THIS Friday! Remember? Friday the 13th, dumb hockey mask joke, etc etc? I'm going to need you slackers to start taking copious notes. I mean, REALLY. You are an embarrassment to short-term memory! TRY SOME SUDOKU for chrissakes!

Anyway, I'm thinking they put up the "Toddler Cruise" sign as a result of the looks of silent panic many of us were giving off trying to figure this shit out. Either that, or someone just out-and-out asked WTF. And if so, I thank him/her heartily, although I must say it's people like THAT who enable me to coast along on the Nervous Tummy Log Ride, secure in the knowledge that SOMEONE will be THAT GUY, and therefore it doesn't have to be ME.

Excuse the tangent, but do you guys ever think about an alternate and clearly superior post title, like way, WAY after the fact? Yesterday while I was on the treadmill, I was listening to some Kelly Clarkson, and doing some good old-fashioned man-hating, you know, as a kicky little workout pick-me-up, and I thought of what I SHOULD have titled last Friday's Post Which Shall Not Be Named: Give Me That Sunday School Answer; Repent Yourself Away.

GODDAMN IT! Ah well. That post doesn't even EXIST anymore, except in my NIGHTMARES, and various places in the Googleverse, so I don't know why I'm going all Editor on it. Half of you don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about right now. And the other half CAN'T REMEMBER SHIT ANYWAY, so why am I going there?

PS-I saved all of your comments so I can read them over and over and possibly be buried with them after I die.

Haven't You Always Wanted a Monkey?

Hey, update on the Seasonal Party of Ambiguous Nature at AD's daycare! When I showed up this morning, they had added a sign screaming, "ALL ABOARD THE TODDLER CRUISE!!!". So...it's a cruise theme? I guess? Pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten THAT in a thousand guesses, so THANKS FOR THE TIP. Anyway, what is the appropriate seasonal cookie here? Shuffleboard? Old Lady Wearing Culottes? Dramamine?

Oh, I kid. BR and I actually went on a cruise for our honeymoon, and loved it.

Here I am getting ready to consume a Totally Reasonable quantity of food. You know, just a light breakkie. Also, don't talk to me about my tragic Ubertan. I KNOW, okay? It was my wedding, and I had Tan Dysmorphic Disorder.

And here I am teeing up for a round of mini-golf! Wholesome fun for the whole family, even the world's lamest newlyweds! This also reminds me of that Royal Caribbean commercial where they blow the horn right when the guy is about to sink the shot. You guys, I like that commercial. I DO. I chuckle every damned time. There Is Something Wrong With Me, Exhibit 23456.

And speaking of TISWWM, do you know what song never, ever fails to cheer me up? Barenaked Ladies "If I Had $1,000,000".

If I had $1,000,000
I would buy you a monkey
Haven't you always wanted a monkey?

So! I...guess that's it! GOOD TALK!

I'm Still Messed Up, Plus Seasonal Cookies!

Well, I'm here at work and not, like, HANGING FROM MY SHOWER ROD or anything, so no need to worry (although you are all so sweet to worry). Incidentally, I've never understood that "hanging from the shower rod" thing. I don't know where you get YOUR shower rods, but mine sure as hell wouldn't hold up to a vigorous suicide attempt, I'll you that much. I'm a little concerned about using metal shower curtain rings instead of plastic, if we're being honest.

Anyway, I am feeling better today, due in no small part to an email from my sister suggesting this coffee mug:
Now there's a perfect penholder slash conversation icebreaker for the desk! Oh, man. WHY OH WHY do I find that SO FUNNY? You guys are all so nice to think there's nothing wrong with me, but: YOU ARE MISTAKEN.

Also, this morning I dropped off AD at daycare and found a sign-up sheet for bringing party snacks next Friday, June 13th. I signed up for the seasonal cookies, obv, as I now have some kind of sick AFFINITY for the SC, thanks to you fuckers, but here is my question:

What is the season?

I, uh, sort of DON'T KNOW WHY THE FUCK THEY ARE HAVING THIS PARTY. And, I guess I don't really CARE, other than the seasonal cookies thing. But I sort of feel like I SHOULD know? I mean, I am an established skimmer of all of the "notices" and "memos" and "insults to the English and/or Spanish language" we are given, but STILL.

Why didn't I just ASK, you say? Pull your head out of your ass! Who is the skimmer now?

Anyway, I'm thinking the options are:

Friday the 13th-hockey mask seasonal cookies. In my experience, toddlers love a good Jason reference.

Fathers Day-what, cookies in the shape of neckties? Powerdrills? Cases of beer, and if so which brand?

"Summer"-probably the leading contender, although it's a little nebulous and we haven't celebrated any of the OTHER solstices or equinoxes, to my knowledge. Still, totally the easiest seasonal cookie, so let's hope for that one, shall we?

SAD

I'm sad that I had such a disproportionate and despairing reaction to your perfectly funny and lovely comments on that last post. I'm sad that so many of us react to an inspirational story by hating ourselves for what we're NOT doing, instead of thinking of what we COULD do. I'm sad that I implied that whatever exercise YOU are doing is not good enough. I'm sad that I don't know how to work those kettlebells either and that I haven't asked for help to learn.

I'm sad that it's so hard for me to ask for help, in general.

I'm sad that so many of my favorite bloggers are having a hard time right now. I'm sad that I read some of your blogs for so many years without commenting or emailing you to tell you how much I enjoy what you write. I'm sad that some of you are going to think I am fishing for comments and emails.

I'm sad that I have excellent intuition, but don't always use it. I'm sad that so much of my twenties sucked because of this.

I'm sad that my mom hasn't had a better life.

I'm sad that my husband hasn't had a better life.

I'm sad that I can't just write this post and publish it without wanting to end with something FUNNY. I'm sad that I'm going to feel EXPOSED or whatever all day after I DO publish it.

I'm sad that there's clearly something wrong with me.

HELL YEAH

So, listen. I know the last time I talked about the fitnessy stuff, you guys got a little crabby.

But seriously? If you are looking for inspiration today, whether your goals are fitness-related, or not, you CAN.NOT. miss this video. It's like fucking ROCKY. For MOMS.

And to think I was going to skip my lunch workout today. Uh, not anymore.

(Link via Fitness Fixation--just like all the coolest health kick shit on the Internet)

Am I A Total BUMPKIN, or WHAT?

Hey, do you guys like middle-class sob stories? Yeah, me neither. That's sort of...all I have though. SOB SOB SOB. I dropped my phone in my backyard fucking swimming pool and had to immediately replace it with a better model! WAH! (Srsly though. Is minor disaster. I don't know how to WORK IT, you guys)(I mean, I know how to WORK IT, WORK IT GOOD!)(I was talking about the PHONE)(slash miniature HOME OFFICE)(slash PORTAL TO ANOTHER DIMENSION for all I know)

Bonus digression--phone edition:

Tessie: Dude, I can check my EMAIL on this sumbitch
BR: Oh, ah you gonna get yoah work email on theah?
Tessie: WHAT? NO! Pull your head out of your ass! I don't need that shit following me around night and day! My Gmail. So I can read blog comments while I'm in meetings.
BR: Yoah a model employee
Tessie: Yeah. A model of AWESOMENESS.

Anyway. I'm off task here. I have more sobbing to do. Ready?

Do you guys see this? This is the fucking COMMUNITY REC CENTER in the suburb where we live. Yeah. Those are 5-story waterslides, and a waterplay area for little kids, and there is also a LAZY RIVER that you can't see in the picture, as well as a separate INDOOR pool area. And, are you ready for this? It cost $65, PER YEAR to be a member there. For ME. AD is FREE.

I mean, WHAT? Is this, like, AWESOME SQUARED, or is it just me?

I know I sound like a total wide-eyed hick in the big city here, but I will never, EVER get over all of the...stuff. I can't help but think that it must be so much more fun to grow up in a tiny town, where you experience a thrill every time you see a MCDONALDS, for the love of god, and then realize that THIS kind of stuff is out there, rather than the other way around.

It seems to me that a kid who grows up where we live must end up pretty hard to impress. I worry about this. I mean, technically we live in a suburb, but I think of the kids here as City Kids. How does a City Kid find the Next Big Thing? Will AD have to live in New York, or London, or ON THE MOON in order to feel like she's seeing the world?

Then again, why do I feel like LOW EXPECTATIONS are the key to happiness? That is just dumb. And yet. One of the gifts of growing up in a rural area, I think, is a lifelong sense of wonder at stuff like this. And here I am, turning my kid into one of those DICKS who looks at the Eiffel Tower and says, "Meh. It's just a big piece of metal". (TRUE EFFING STORY courtesy of our favorite Fussypants)

You're Not Alone

So, like nearly every other woman and gay man between the ages of 25 and 55, I saw Sex and The City this weekend.

I've read some mixed reviews of the movie, and I GUESS I understand the bad ones (NO, I DON'T), but I have to say that if you were a fan of the show, then...well, I can't imagine a scenario in which you won't love it.

Of course, the way to get the full experience is clearly to see the movie with 1 (one) BFF and 1 (one) hot gay guy at a THEATER THAT SERVES ALCOHOL. That's right. Total dream team, there. You should have seen the bartenders, you guys. It was the worst weekend of their LIVES, and you could see it written all over their faces. I'm sure if they never see another cosmopolitan again it'll be too soon.

Anyway, half of the fun of the movie was the experience of seeing it in a roomful of women who were just WAITING to love it. Everyone was dressed up, and drinking, and some people were wearing feather BOAS for chrissakes, and when the themesong started up we all CHEERED and raised our drinks and whistled as they showed the hot guys and man, it was awesome.

Because anyone who watched the show knows that it was about neither Sex nor The City. It was about friends. Without giving away any (PLOT) spoilers, I'll tell you that my favorite part of the movie is when Miranda calls Carrie "just to talk", and Carrie decides to go over to her apartment, and when Miranda opens the door Carrie just says, "You're not alone."

Man, if I was in the habit of crying, like EVER, I would have shed a tear at that part (poor non-emotionally-crippled Darla went through like 5 Kleenex). The very worst part of being in your early 20s, the age we were when we watched the show, is the constant knowledge that you are making The Big Decisions at a time when you don't know SHIT about SHIT. And every breakup, and every rejection, and every bad decision, feels like one more step towards Being Alone. And your parents don't understand you, and neither do the Smug Marrieds a few years older, and you can feel alone in a CROWDED FUCKING ROOM.

But you're not. You never were. It's such a fucking waste you couldn't see it at the time.

So, yeah. You should see the movie. Preferably with drinks.

And to Darla, and all of YOU, my Internet friends: You're not alone. Not as long as I'm around. Lord knows I would never say it to your face.