Sunday, July 31, 2011

Birthday Wishes...

Eli will kill me for telling you this, but last year, I had a bad birthday.

I spent the evening in tears: I was working at a job I hated, I missed my family and friends, I was living in a house I felt ignored in, and as much as I tried I felt helpless in my situation. When my loving and well-meaning boyfriend asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I though long and hard (teehee) and finally replied:

"Order and Control."

He was appalled, but I stood my ground. In a world where I felt lost, helpless, and completely Type A (at least for the moment), I was slowly being driven mad by all the things I had no power over: my job, my home, all that.

In the year that followed, many things changed for me, some for the better, some not so much. I quit my job, taking control over my circumstances, and now I basically set my own hours. We lost the house, and ended up moving to our own apartment, which I am solely responsible for (in a good way!), and can maintain any way I want. Order and control. Of course, some things happened that were completely beyond my control, but I think that was the universe's way of reminding me of my limits.

Now that I'm not slowly spinning into insanity anymore, I have a clean slate for my birthday wishes. Should I wish for abstract concepts again, or, given my track record of achieving my birthday wishes, should I just wish for a million dollars and a diamond the size of my foot? I'll have to think about it, but in the meantime, here are some things I want to accomplish in my 27th year:

1. Return to the area where mom and I went for wine tasting last fall and do a tour of the lakes, wine being optional (HA! Of course not. Wine is a necessity).

2. Play another huge role I've always wanted to play. I've already crossed Helena, Dorine, and Hilde off my list, I have no other dream roles that I could feasibly play...except...Hedwig. Universe, are you listening? Endow me with the ability to sing!

3. Visit my grandmother more often. All the time we have together seems always too short, and I truly think she's one of the family members I get along with the best.

4. Meet Simon Doonan. He's only 4'9", he works at Barney's, how hard could he be to track down, honestly? The hardest part will be making sure he doesn't run into me while I'm wearing my work uniform, quelle horreur!

5. Return to Paris speaking passable French. Eli is all stoked to go back. Learning French will be the hard part. Um, see above.

6. Eat better. I can't remember the last time I ingested something green that wasn't also "sour apple" flavoured. And though I'm not looking to lose weight or anything, and my health isn't in a poor state, I feel like it can only go downhill from here, getting older and whatnot. I should take care of my body (without becoming one of those obnoxious organic fanatics of course!). It should be noted that as I write this, I am eating a pile of cake and coffee. Eating better starts tomorrow.

7. Visit the dentist. Every year I grow old is another reminder that it's been X years since I had a cleaning, and with all the sour apple gummy bears I've been eating, I've no doubt my mouth is riddled with cavities just waiting to leap to life and strangle me in my sleep, or something.

8. Perform the sketch I wrote, live or on YouTube. I think it's darn good. I would love to have my work published on the internet, link it to my name, so when people google me they can see the stellar review I got for The Master Builder and, eventually, the brilliant piece of comedy I wrote and starred in. Take that, naysayers.

9. Find a job I love. Now that I'm not longer working at a job I hate, I feel like it's time to find a job I can more-than-tolerate.

10. Travel as much as possible. Which will be totally feasible, between working this new perfect job, rehearsing my dream role, visiting my grandmother and learning French, but that's why I get a whole year for these things!!!

11. Write more. Maybe I get good at it practicing or somefin or nuffin.

12. Visit the Brooklyn Flea Market. In wintertime, when it's indoors, I hope. It's just another of those New York awesome things I don't take advantage of enough.

Member of The 27 Club since 2011

The 27 Club has recently come back into focus thanks to Amy Winehouse. I am referring, of course, to the group of influential musicians who all died at the age of 27 including Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and now, Miss Winehouse.

The theories as to why these brilliant artists all expire in their 27th year are as varied in crazy as "Faustian devil pact," "Astrological phenomenon," to "Extensive drug and alcohol abuse starting in their late teens causing their body's resistance to reach lethal levels" (ding ding ding we might have a winner!).

At any rate, on this morbid note, happy birthday to me. If I start casually on the heroin now, I could live another ten years. Just like I planned it.

Only in my dreams

I don't know if anyone knows this, but today is my BIRTHDAY, and I've already started celebrating, but I had to type up this insane dream I had last night:

I dreamt that Eli convinced me to give up our apartment and move into a suite in a homeless shelter run by the Catholic church. It had a big, flat-screen TV and was decked out like a very nice hotel room, despite being attached to a working church. We were living it up, eating takeout and watching Law & Order: SVU until the church officials caught up with us. They told us that the room we were living in was not meant to be stayed in overnight, and the legitimately homeless people stole my jewelry out of my purse where I had stashed it. I tried to convince them that we were in fact homeless, and not only that, but we were struggling to make our way as a two-man improvisational Christian rock band, and faster than you can say "two-man improvisational Christian rock band," they booked us a gig at my old church.

I instructed Eli to play a vamp on the upright piano, while I took my microphone around the church and proceeded to interact with the parishioners, shoving my microphone in their faces to ask their names and what they liked best about being Catholic, then turning it into song:

"...here's a kid in a blue shirt, his name is..."
"Kevin"
"...Kevin..."
"No, Gavin!"
"...Gavin, Kevin, he's not really sure what his name is, but he digs God because it's a nicer thought to believe that someone's watching out for you as opposed to the idea that nothing happens after you die..."

And so forth. Here was my favourite verse:

"There's a lady with red hair, she thinks Jesus is cool because Jesus was all about peace, and shit, and all that stuff people attribute to Jesus saying are things Jesus never actually said, he was all about 'love your neighbor, pay your taxes, don't judge other people and give the poor money' which, if you think about it, is really just common sense..."

And with that, we lost our gig, not just because I dared call the Church out on their hypocrisy into their own sparkly microphone, but they were closing down the church for renovations and to replace the piano with a state-of-the-art keyboard.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

PROBLEMS!

The teenage sitcom, by its very nature, must be fraught with problems. PROBLEMS! Braces, unrequited love, bullying, teachers, tests, drugs, sex, parties, parents, drinking, AUGH! Remember the good old days, when we could count on every "very special episode" to moralize our lives back to us?

Well, the good old days are gone, my friends. Trying to break from the pattern well established by Saved by the Bell, Boy Meets World, Clarissa Explains it All, Full House (teenage daughters! Totally counts), today's shows aimed at teenagers can't seem to handle, much less properly address, the problems facing teenagers.

Firstly, there are the shows that try to cram far too many SERIOUS problems into their characters' lives until what you have is an implausible soap opera. Gilmore Girls starts off all funny and sweet, following the appropriate formula and then SURPRISE! Somewhere between Luke's long-lost daughter and Sookie's 15th pregnancy, we've wandered into a wasteland of EPIC PROBLEMS. A contemporary example of this would be The Secret Life of the American Teenager, which I believe was invented to make middle America clutch its pearls and furtively read their daughters' diaries for evidence of hidden pregnancy and secret weddings. The real secret is, no teenagers' life is like that, except the ones on MTV's 16 & Pregnant. Teen pregnancy rates are falling, thanks in part to MTV's 16 & Pregnant. And yet somehow, every episode concludes with another character falling pregnant. Really.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are the shows that try to do too much with too little. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a kick-ass, high-octane fantasy adventure until its cancellation. The final season was spent tying up loose ends and putting the story to bed, which involved less monsters and more personal demons and - euch - FEELINGS! Sorry, Buffy, you know it's true. Speaking of feelings, MTV's is-this-a-reality-show-or-is-it-not My Life As Liz is about a girl who hates her life, regardless of what's going on in it, and complains all the time about things that make no sense. Here is, for example, a paraphrasing of every conversation between herself and her confidant, Sully:

Liz: I have no friends!
Sully: Um, I'm your friend.
Liz: I don't have a boyfriend!
Sully: Aren't you dating Bryson? Isn't he the most popular guy in school?
Liz: The popular girls hate me!
Sully: That hot blonde popular girl is your friend! She's always hanging out with you! She just went to the bathroom!
Liz: I hate Texas!
Sully: You're going to art school in New York City in a month, and frankly, I'm counting the days.

Is this what teenagers are like today? Probably. Maybe the ones who aren't constantly complaining about a situation they have every power to change are getting pregnant every month. But why bring that into our entertainment? Why break the formula, if it isn't broken? Why am I so excited, so excited, and so scared for the future of our television???

Friday, July 29, 2011

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hues...

Released in 1971, Carole King's Tapestry album is probably the perfect album for a quarter-life crisis, for the new generation of lost souls, for hipsters to claim to "discover" and then shun when they find the actual vintage vinyl recording among their parent's collection. In all seriousness, it is the one album I listen to more than any other when traveling, for many reasons, and in my opinion, it is incredibly underrated and under-appreciated.

"I Feel the Earth Move" was my first favourite song on this album, because I only had patience for the first cut with it's pounding chords and the sick breakdown at the end.

"So Far Away" is the quintessential song for any long-distance romance, if you can't sing the first two lines off the top of your head, it's possible you weren't raised in an English-speaking country, in which case, LEARN IT.

"It's Too Late" is the quintessential song for the breakup of your long-distance romance. The lyrics are harder to learn, so you'd better hope you don't break up, then, okay?

"Home Again" starts off so simple, an earnest wish, and then Carole pulls some crazy high notes from her gospel range and turns her simple, sweet melody into intense yearnings and then takes you back again through the magic of her piano.

"Beautiful" may have been overshadowed by the Christina Aguilera tune of the same name, and even though I am honor-bound to love that song because it was written by the lead singer of Four Non Blondes, I am inclined to say that Carole actually gets it. REALLY gets the idea. "You've got to get up every morning/with a smile on your face/and show the world/all the love in your heart/then people gonna treat you better/you're gonna find, yes you will/that you're beautiful/as you feel." Wow! So, you have to WORK for it? You're not ENTITLED to be beautiful because you are blond and emaciated, Christina? Wait, that's not the point. While Xtina is singing (warbling) about external beauty, Carole swoops in and goes for the INTERNAL beauty.

"Way Over Yonder" makes Carole perhaps the whitest, unlikeliest soul singer in the world. This was my mother's least favourite song on the album, back when it was the first one she'd ever purchased, she tells me, because it was too slow. But like "Home Again", she seems to be obsessed with getting out of her present situation for some reason (more on this later!) and finding a place in the country (?) to be free. Now, I have never wanted a life in the country...until this album. Now, I fully believe that living barefoot in cable-knit sweaters in a field like the ones I pass by on the highway would be the greatest life imaginable.

"You've Got A Friend" is probably better known as the James Taylor hit, but Carole holds her own singing the tune she wrote, and for my money, her raw voice makes the sentiment more sincere and less saccharine than James's version (sorry JT fans!).

"Where You Lead" may solve the mystery of why Carole is so miserable: "I always wanted a real home/with flowers on the windowsill/But if you wanna live in New York City/honey you know I will" says the bridge of the song. AHA! She relocated for love, and is miserable, apparently. If you know anything about tweenage dramedies, you will no doubt recognize this song as the theme from the popular sitcom Gilmore Girls, but really, there is SO much more to it. And what a sacrifice! And how curious the album placing. It's almost as if she's trying to send someone a secret message: "I don't want to complain about this apartment, buuuuuut...". I hope Carole found her Sweet Seasons somewhere at last.

"Will You Love Me Tomorrow" was one of my favourite songs growing up, but while I preferred the Shirelles' version as a child, with all the bells and whistles, now that I am a mature adult yes I am, Carole's stripped version of the song she co-wrote with Gerry Goffin sounds more sincere in her own voice (much like "You've Got A Friend", and the final cut on the album as well). King is amazing when she writes for other artists (Helllloooo, "Locomotion"!), but it's so much more intimate to hear her sing her own ideas, like having an author read their works to you in their own voice.

"Smackwater Jack" is the "Rocky Raccoon" of this album. I don't know how it fits into the big picture, which is that of love, loss, self-actualization, longing, and devotion. It's cute, and it's a metaphor (I think, or rather, I hope, or else I'm lost).

"Tapestry" is the weakest cut on the album, in my opinion. It seems to be a tad syrupy for me, although I'm sure I'll grow into liking it when I sit and crochet in my cable-knit sweater, barefoot in my log cabin in Roscoe, NY.

"(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" was a hit for Aretha Franklin at #8 on the Billboard charts, and I used to think of her version as being an anthem for sexually liberated women in the 60's. But yet again, King's own voice changes the tone of this whole song entirely. My imagined context for Aretha's version is that she had been brought down by men in her past, oppressed by bad lovers until the "You" of the title taught her how to love again through those 80's buzzword concepts like "time, love and tenderness" and all that generic "I want a man with a slow hand" crap. But when Carole sings "Looking out on the morning rain/I used to feel so uninspired", it is with the deep understanding of longing that only the soul of a true poet can muster. I imagine her sitting in a cable-knit sweater, in her log cabin, stroking a calico cat who may or may not have only one eye or possibly a bandaged tail. Barefoot on the window seat on a gray and dreary day. This is a girl who longs for love, doesn't know love, yearns for true love, and when she finds it, she feels like she's running barefoot in a field of cattails in a billowy linen skirt in a way that is evocative of the finest feminine cleansing product commercials ever conceptualized.

In short, Tapestry is probably my new favourite album, in terms of albums I have listened to all the way through and love every single song (um, except the title song). If I had to pick an album to listen to on a deserted island, or at least one that sums up where I feel I am in my life at this moment.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

I Am 16(+10) Going On 17(+10)


Feeling old, I decided to do something drastic to my hair.
Wanting to shave the side of it, but lacking the guts and the funds, I braided it using mixed techniques and got, well, mixed results.
I also learned how to use my webcam to take semi-decent pictures of myself.







Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I Need To Get This Off My Chest

Hey, all you poseurs out there, getting your silly chest tattoos. You think you're SOOO original, but I have news for you: I did it first. That's right, hipster/emo/scene kid teenagers, when you were still watching Barney on PBS, I was holding my breath (and my shirt around myself for modesty) in the back room of a smokey tattoo shop off the highway, going under the needle for the first time.

So don't act like you've discovered something new and totally cool because you didn't.

Also, I have been rocking my beat-up, technicolor Converse since you first started sweating standardized tests. Don't think that it's your "thing", and you just happened to discover that they're really comfy shoes or whatever, just give credit where credit is due.

And don't get me STARTED on winged eyeliner/bangs and all that 60's look! I was winging it back when it was just me and Amy Winehouse repping the heavy-makeup look. Now she's gone. And I've got to carry the torch. So don't pretend you started doing it after you watched Mad Men and you decided to bring the retro craze back. No. I have had bangs since the FIRST GRADE. You didn't even exist then (aaaand now I feel old). *I* am the one who started these trends. YOU jerks just jumped on MY bandwagon, and I didn't even invite you, OKAY???

The Ice Queen Melteth

Perhaps it's the wisdom that comes with age, or being in an industry that forces me to be surrounded by them, or (God forbid) my biological clock which has always been a tad on the slow (or nonexistent) side softening in the wake of the past weekend, but I think I have to finally confess:

I don't think I actually hate kids that much anymore.

You have NO idea how hard it was for me to admit that. I was hating on kids BEFORE it was cool, and continued long after my own friends started having kids ("Why?", I believe, was my reaction in my heart-of-hearts, when to their faces I twisted up a smile and mustered a nice, noncommittal "Awww!").

As you may have assumed because of the lack of constant updating about shit that makes me angry, I have been on vacation, and contrary to what you may think and even in spite of severe illness, I am not dead. Nay, I have been in a state far worse: Western New York. Home of wedge haircuts, Chico's and judgement. The bright spot in all this is my family, and though I am indisputably the black sheep of such, I adore my family wholeheartedly with one major exception: I have always been uneasy around kids.

Don't think this was a mutual thing: for as long as I can remember, my hatred of children younger than me (by at least two years) has done nothing to cool their absolute and abiding passion for me. As a young child, toddlers followed me around like a GOD. As a preteen, I was besieged by children of all ages, making me the hit of the kiddie table while I longed to be the "adult" I perceived myself as. Even my angst-ridden teenage years rendered me irresistible to the 10-and-under set. And I, for my part, have always - ALWAYS - hated it.

So when I learned that I was expected to stay in a house with two boys, aged 5-and-under, for the duration of the weekend, I balked. Crazy, wild children around? NO. THANKS. But I decided to give them a chance, after all, if there's anyone out there more poorly equipped to deal with kids than I, it's Eli, and I had to make a better impression than he did using whatever means necessary. And in my case, that meant small talk, peppered with teasing. Um, doesn't everyone find that hilarious???

Apparently, not. It actually took TIME for my cousin's children to warm up to me! This has never happened before! Where was the pheromone that caused preschoolers to cling desperately to my legs when I needed it??? Moreover, shy 3-year-old boys lack the ability to process teasing, and complicated jokes.

After a while, though, I think we jived okay. They teased me back. I now fondly recall staring down into the 3-year-old's bright, wide eyes, grinning back at me with a mouth full of teeth that would all too soon become too small, shouting "YOU GOT NOTHING!!!". I almost weep with laughter recalling the five-year-old rolling his eyes with joy after splashing me in the face in the pool, causing my makeup to melt down my face, factually observing that I looked "like a scary monster" (he later apologized of his own volition, then touched my hand and observed that I was "smooth," which kind of made up for it in a creepy sort of way).

So even though I am miles and miles away from ever teasing my own children or berating them like a street baller, as my dead plants will attest, I have to say I enjoy being the eccentric cousin Meghan who woos small children with her reluctant charms. Eventually.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Things Just Got Heavy...

I'm going to come clean about something I've been fairly embarrassed about: I've gained 20lbs since high school. And I'm proud.

This isn't really the kind of thing you hear discussed, um, EVER. For girls, it's always all about losing weight, staying thin, maintaining a ridiculously low BMI because the one who looks most like a skeleton before they're actually a corpse, WINS! Didn't you know?

I just read this article (in the HuffPo, deal with it) and it makes a lot of sense. Pick a lane! Decide what you want to do to your body and do it.

Honestly, do you want to go through life denying yourself French pastry just to stay the same weight you were before puberty? That's how I see it. Up till about three years ago, I hovered around the 100lb mark. And it actually sucked! I couldn't find clothes that fit (you were going to think I'd say the opposite, but no! It's true! Clothes don't fit boney freaks either! Clothes don't fit anyone! That's how they get you! NOBODY walks into a store and picks clothes off the rack and just BUYS them and has them fit perfectly when they get home without spending at least five minutes sighing and analyzing themselves in the harsh light of the changing room).

Here's the deal. If you're a size 0-2, "Society" says you're TOO SKINNY, and tries to sell you padded bras and oversize clothes. If you're a size 4-6, "The Modeling World" says you're "Plus Size". And if you're over a 6, which NEWSFLASH most people ARE, "Society" tells you to go on a diet and tries to sell you bland, chalky shakes. The lesson here is that unless you're a size 4-6, YOU CAN'T WIN. And even then, you have to be a size 4-6, white, 36B or C and between 5'2" and 5'6" or you're a freak.

And here's the best part! Now that I'm officially "FAT", life is so much better! For one, I can eat in public without people shaming me. I can order a salad without people saying "Are you sure you don't want a couple cheeseburgers? You can afford it HAHAHA" and I can order dessert without the same ignorant busybodies observing "I didn't think skinny girls ate ice cream HAHAHAHAHA!". Also, CLOTHES. Until recently, I have hated buying clothes because they were always too short, being that I was 5'8", and still am, I had resigned myself to never having jeans that grazed the floor or shirts that covered my navel. Now? I am the size person I am supposed to be.

And not even that! According to Wii Fit (heavenly choir) and the BMI index, I should technically be another 25lbs heavier to be considered "healthy" for my age/height. How messed up is that? I'm beyond plus-sized by society's standards, and still "Underweight" by science's standards?

So whatever. If people want to snark at me, they can call up Tyra Banks, and she can tell them to kiss my big fat ass, because I'll be too busy enjoying life to worry about people thinking I'm fat, okay?

Party Nails

Everyone needs a little fun-fetti in their life.

PRO-LIFE

Here's what Pro-Life actually means:

anti-woman
anti-child
anti-welfare
anti-healthcare
anti-education
anti-prevention
anti-compassion

Just wanted to clear that up.

Movie Review -- Four Rooms (1995)

Four awesome mini-stories for you to enjoy while playing I Spy with major actors:

Lili Taylor
Madonna
Jennifer Beals
Antonio Banderas
Salma Hayek
Tim Roth
Kathy Griffin
Marisa Tomei
Bruce Willis
Quentin Tarantino*

* who'd have thought, he'd appear in his own movie?

Movie Review -- Muriel's Wedding (1994)

There are almost no words to describe how touching, joyful, funny, sweet, heartbreaking, and honest this movie is in every single possible way except "SEE IT!"

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Enjoy the View

It was such a perfect day a few days ago.
I cleaned my bedroom, made the bed, opened the blinds and couldn't resist taking pictures.

The G.W. Bridge is so lush and verdant this time of year!

This is the new ring I bought today from Forever 21.
Cheap bling is my new obsession.

So is bright makeup!
And that's what I've been up to lately.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Couch Couch Couch Yeah!

What makes a house a home? For that matter, what makes a one-bedroom railroad flat apartment a home?

How long does it take to feel comfortable? What's the proper ratio of wall space to pictures? Are curtains the answer?

I think I have the key: it's the couch. The couch!

All my life, I have loved couches. As a kid, I took their cushions off, build forts, and used them as trampolines. As a teenager, I sprawled out on them. As a young adult, I slept on them for years.

And now, in my glamorous NYC life, I have what is in my estimation, the world's biggest couch EVER - big and red (like my first car!) and comfy and welcoming. Despite the white walls and the unbeatable heat, this couch is a big red beacon of love.

Isabella Blow: Style Icon

"My style icon is anyone who makes a bloody effort."
- Isabella Blow, muse

(She also hated unsolicited affection from strangers:

"[I wear hats]...to keep everyone away from me. They say, Oh, can I kiss you? I say, No, thank you very much. That's why I've worn the hat. Goodbye. I don't want to be kissed by all and sundry. I want to be kissed by the people I love.")

Monday, July 11, 2011

Movie Review -- It (1927)

In trying to snag a man, it is essential to be a liberated woman in every way EXCEPT sexually. We've come a long way, baby.

Awesome 1920's Phrases from 'It"

Hot Socks! (Translation: "OMG!")

Sweet Santa Claus! (Translation: see "Hot Socks!")

I'll take the snap out of your garters! (Translation: "I'll kick yer ass!")

Don't be sill! (Translation: "Don't be silly!")

Minute Men - As in "The minute you meet a girl, you think you can kiss her" (Translation: "Player")

Laugh that off! (Translation: "F#@K You!")

I have tasted the milk of human kindness (Translation: "My ass is druuuunk")

Left-hand arrangement (Translation: "Ho")

Lacking in reserve (Translation: "Slut")

The Unspoken Rules of the Subway

1. Never attempt to engage fellow passengers in conversation.

2. Crying babies must be ignored by passengers and their own mothers.

3. With regards to personal grooming: if you wouldn't do it in a restaurant, don't do it on the subway. Applying makeup: okay. Cutting your toenails? NOT OKAY.

4. If you are playing house or reggaeton music, please keep it to yourself. If you're playing John Lennon or George Michael, turn it up.

5. One seat per person.

6. Seats are first-come, first-serve. Passengers forced to stand are entitled to glare at seated passengers for the duration of their ride, and should they be lucky enough to sit, they must flounce down dramatically and sigh so the whole car is made aware of their long-standing suffering.

7. If you have bought smelly awful food on the train with you, please keep it covered. If you have brought delicious treats, be prepared to share.

8. Passengers must accept passing compliments graciously. Complimenters must not engage in further conversation.

9. Directions are to be given liberally when asked for with no judgement.

Movie Review -- Party Girl (1995)

Parker Posey is adorable, but I had basically no idea what was going on the entire movie.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Movie Review -- Camille

This is NOT an indie comedy, it is going to make you cry. The only terrible things about this movie are the opening title sequence, and the ending credits. Did I mention YOU'RE GONNA CRY?!?!

Movie Review -- She Gets What She Wants

A stupid title befitting a fairly stupid movie, a more apt title would have been All About Genevi-EVE, but the target audience is probably too stupid to get the reference. Stupid.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Ah, But LOVE is Blind

As you saw from the previous post, I recently purchased a sleep mask, resembling a blindfold, and it has helped tremendously with my problem of waking up at sunrise and multiple times during the night due to stadium lights with the construction below. This increased ability to sleep, however, seems to have had an odd effect on my dreams:

I dreamt that for the longest part of the night, I was driving around, driving all over. It wasn't until the latter part of the dream that I learned I was driving to Buffalo, to see my extended family for Thanksgiving. They had invited my long-term boyfriend, of course, as well as a guy who I dated very casually many, many years ago because they thought he was cute, and wanted to see if some sparks would fly. The only sparks that flew were mine - of ANGER! And a little betrayal. But yeah, everyone thought this other guy was sooo cute. Shows what they know.

As dinner commenced, with people passing hors d'oeuvres down the lengths of three long tables, side by side, we discussed the huge singing competition that took over TV in which two of my friends were entered - one straight female and one gay male. They made a music video in which they covered a song, originally sung by either Avril Lavigne or Miley Cyrus and one of the guys from the television show Glee about how it's better to wait until marriage to have sex. The video was quite funny, with Her singing about how she was willing to wait for him to be ready, even though she loved him, and Him singing the same thing back in agreement, while the video showed him hooking up with guys behind her back. By the end of the video, She was wearing a gray wig, still professing her love and her desires to wait, and He was wrinkled and aged, still agreeing, still "not ready", and still hooking up with dudes. This caused a scandal among the dinner participants, who didn't know He was gay, and who were shocked to find that he'd come out on such a huge television program.

And then I woke up. And the hors d'oeuvres never even made it to my end of the table.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Coke/Pepsi Blind Taste Test

What do you do when the Chinese restaurant delivers you a free can of Coke AND a free can of Pepsi?
There's nothing TO do...besides the Pepsi/Coke Blind Taste Test Challenge.

For my part, I am clearly, and always have been, in the Coke Camp.

And so was Eli...until he took the Challenge!

Imagine his surprise when he discovered that he, in his heart of hearts, truly belongs on Team Pepsi!

Horrors.

Room for Comfort

Oh heeeeyyyy! Hey you! Hi! Is it...Michelle? Miranda? Michaela? No, no, I remember, I met you at the company meeting...last week? Last month, of course.

Things are good, yeah, good! How are you? Great, that's great. Awesome. Thanks for stopping by to say hello, see you around -

Wait.

Hold on.

Are you trying to hug me?

No, I don't hug.

I'm sorry, maybe that was harsh. It's not you, it's me! I'm emotionally unavailable! I have difficulty processing intimacy! But I'm not being at all facetious when I say I NEVER, EVER hug.

No, that's not to say I don't hug AT ALL. I hugged my boyfriend at the airport when I got off the 8-hour-flight to London after we had been separated by an ocean for 4 months. I hug my parents goodbye after I visit them for a weekend, and I hug my Grandmother hello and goodbye when I visit her once a year. I hugged my best friend once, BRIEFLY, at the funeral of a mutual friend.

But other than that? I. Don't. Hug.

Especially not:
-people I just met
-people I have yet to meet
-people whose names I can't remember (sorry, um, you)

And don't even get me started on "air kisses".

High five? Hand shake?
Okay. I'll just wave goodbye from over here. It was genuinely nice to see you, though! I mean, until you tried to force false affection on me. Hug-raping me. In front of other people. People who now want to try to hug me, too! Guess I've got a lot of explaining to do! Better...back away slowly, yup, huge step back, fake cough, oh you don't want to catch this, it's nasty, this...chill - yes! I AM very chilly, that's all. It's not that I don't want to hug you - Melissa? Melinda? - I'm just chilly. Frigid! Um, BRITISH! Yeah! It's a cultural thing, you see, I'm secretly very orthodox. I just. Don't. HUG!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Dream House

A sweet dream I had last night was that a good friend and I were going to college at the same school, and found a tiny house on-campus to live in together, and we moved in with sleeping bags and bookshelves. College was so long ago, it's crazy to think it was almost five years ago.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

To Sleep, Perchance

Life lately has been exhausting! Sleep is at a premium and lately I have had a proclivity for falling asleep on the subway, and why not? It's a perfectly normal thing to do, to be gently rocked to sleep in a giant, screeching, fluorescent-lit metal tube hurtling through dark tunnels and around bends at fast speeds. And some of the greatest subway encounters of hilarity come from people falling asleep on their fellow passengers, resting against their shoulders or sliding off their seats.

I was just drifting off myself on a trip home from work, my forehead closing in on my lap, when the sight of a fellow subway napper caught my eye and snapped me awake. Her attempts at fighting sleep off (and losing) merited her a poem in her honor:

Blonde hair
Dark roots
Sweatpants in summer
Ugg boots

To and fro
Side to side
Rock-a-bye baby
Subway ride

Drooly chin
Nodding head
Missed your stop
Time for bed.
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