Me: I was watching this TV show and there was a Jewish character singing the Sh'ma* to a totally different tune than I'm used to, it was interesting.
Mom: Oh, really? What show was it?
Me: Being Human.
Mom: What's it about?
Me: Um...a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost living in a house together.
Mom:.......And who exactly was singing the Sh'ma?
Me: The werewolf.
Mom: ...Why was the werewolf singing the Sh'ma?
Me: 'Cause he's a Jewish werewolf. Duh.
*A Jewish prayer.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Snow Stopped Being Fun When I Learned to Drive
I can't find any effing shovels. New Jersey is expecting it's second "Snowpocolypse" (I hate that term, btw, it's just a snow storm, it is not the end times! I blame hipsters.) of the year and that means that everyone has run out to stock pile snow shovels. Or something. Either way, it means I don't get one and it's pissing me off.
I'm going to have to go ask my neighbors to borrow a shovel so I can dig out my car, and that's awkward because I don't know any of my neighbors. I've seen them and held the door open for them occasionally, but it's not like I know anyone's names. I mean, I've got my own made up names for them. There's Eccentric European Lady who lives upstairs who I once caught talking to Nice Asian Man about ghosts, Possibly Orthodox Lady, who always seems to be carrying lots and lots of bags either to or from her car, Guy With Two Canes who DEFINTELY won't have a shovel, because you can't use a shovel when you have two canes, and then there's the Angry Lesbians who live across the hall.
I have no idea why they're so angry all the time. Maybe their parents didn't accept their life choices. Or maybe they just lost all their comfy socks and are forced to wear really scratchy ones. Either way, them being so cranky all the time is really annoying. They never acknowledge anyone in passing and refuse to open the front door for you even when they're checking their mail and see you struggling with the key. And they always look really solemn and don't seem to speak, even to each other. Also one of them yelled at me once for having noisy friends. So that pretty much rules out asking the Angry Lesbians to borrow a shovel. Maybe I could ask the woman next door who laughs like some kind of cross between a dolphin witch (that's a dolphin who happens to also be a witch, if you're curious). She might have a shovel. At least I know she has a sense of humor.
I'm going to have to go ask my neighbors to borrow a shovel so I can dig out my car, and that's awkward because I don't know any of my neighbors. I've seen them and held the door open for them occasionally, but it's not like I know anyone's names. I mean, I've got my own made up names for them. There's Eccentric European Lady who lives upstairs who I once caught talking to Nice Asian Man about ghosts, Possibly Orthodox Lady, who always seems to be carrying lots and lots of bags either to or from her car, Guy With Two Canes who DEFINTELY won't have a shovel, because you can't use a shovel when you have two canes, and then there's the Angry Lesbians who live across the hall.
I have no idea why they're so angry all the time. Maybe their parents didn't accept their life choices. Or maybe they just lost all their comfy socks and are forced to wear really scratchy ones. Either way, them being so cranky all the time is really annoying. They never acknowledge anyone in passing and refuse to open the front door for you even when they're checking their mail and see you struggling with the key. And they always look really solemn and don't seem to speak, even to each other. Also one of them yelled at me once for having noisy friends. So that pretty much rules out asking the Angry Lesbians to borrow a shovel. Maybe I could ask the woman next door who laughs like some kind of cross between a dolphin witch (that's a dolphin who happens to also be a witch, if you're curious). She might have a shovel. At least I know she has a sense of humor.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Mourning
I never know the right amount of sad to be. There's this strange grey area.
Someone I used to know died and I'm not sure how to feel. He was my age, in my homeroom at school, and died in a tragic accident far away.
For a little while, before people knew what really happened (he died halfway across the world, so facts were pretty sketchy at first) I was hoping it would have turned out to be some kind of mistake. A prank of some kind, a really mean one, but still better than the truth. I hoped and maybe even believed a little that he'd just pop up somewhere, claiming the rumors of his demise were greatly exaggerated a la Mark Twain.
We were never really friends, at one point I think I may not have liked him much due to some friends of his I didn't get along with, but by the time high school ended I came to think of him as a kind person who'd matured and grown since 9th grade and realized I'd been wrong about him initially. I ran into him at a bar a few years after high school and we had a drink. I think I half-laughingly brought up something about old friends of his picking on me in school and he began talking about how no one can really know what another person is really like or who they really are. It either went over my head or I shrugged it off as something said after one drink too many. I think I was more concerned with proving I was no longer a scrawny, awkward nerd anymore (or at least, no longer scrawny) than really catching up or having any kind of deep conversation. I feel bad about that now, though I doubt it bothered him much. We barely knew each other, after all, and who really lingers over a fuzzy conversation with a former schoolmate at a bar?
Well, I guess I do. Now.
And now I'm not sure how to react. I'm sad, sad enough that I feel even less like chatting with passing coworkers than usual and just want to sit here quietly, contemplating. But for some reason I'd feel bad if I were to act TOO upset. I wouldn't want anyone wasting any time to comfort me, someone who barely knew him, when there are real friends, family, and loved ones out there truly grieving.
So I guess for now I'll just sit here and contemplate, write maudlin things in a blog one person reads, and try and gauge the appropriate levels of strange feelings that I don't really know the names for. I think mourning will always just feel weird.
Someone I used to know died and I'm not sure how to feel. He was my age, in my homeroom at school, and died in a tragic accident far away.
For a little while, before people knew what really happened (he died halfway across the world, so facts were pretty sketchy at first) I was hoping it would have turned out to be some kind of mistake. A prank of some kind, a really mean one, but still better than the truth. I hoped and maybe even believed a little that he'd just pop up somewhere, claiming the rumors of his demise were greatly exaggerated a la Mark Twain.
We were never really friends, at one point I think I may not have liked him much due to some friends of his I didn't get along with, but by the time high school ended I came to think of him as a kind person who'd matured and grown since 9th grade and realized I'd been wrong about him initially. I ran into him at a bar a few years after high school and we had a drink. I think I half-laughingly brought up something about old friends of his picking on me in school and he began talking about how no one can really know what another person is really like or who they really are. It either went over my head or I shrugged it off as something said after one drink too many. I think I was more concerned with proving I was no longer a scrawny, awkward nerd anymore (or at least, no longer scrawny) than really catching up or having any kind of deep conversation. I feel bad about that now, though I doubt it bothered him much. We barely knew each other, after all, and who really lingers over a fuzzy conversation with a former schoolmate at a bar?
Well, I guess I do. Now.
And now I'm not sure how to react. I'm sad, sad enough that I feel even less like chatting with passing coworkers than usual and just want to sit here quietly, contemplating. But for some reason I'd feel bad if I were to act TOO upset. I wouldn't want anyone wasting any time to comfort me, someone who barely knew him, when there are real friends, family, and loved ones out there truly grieving.
So I guess for now I'll just sit here and contemplate, write maudlin things in a blog one person reads, and try and gauge the appropriate levels of strange feelings that I don't really know the names for. I think mourning will always just feel weird.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
It's okay, I'm takin' it back...
Has anyone ever said something to you that you don't really understand but you know is supposed to be funny, but you're not sure whether to laugh or not because you're maybe a little worried it might be some really obscure racial slur?
...
.....
........that's a normal concern to have, right?
Right??
...
.....
........that's a normal concern to have, right?
Right??
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Being human.
Last night I read about this family whose house burned down because they didn't pay the fire department a $75 fire protection fee. The fire department literally stood around and watched the house burn, not doing anything until the fire spread to a neighbors property, a neighbor who HAD paid the fee. The fire fighters put out the fire on the neighbors property but still did nothing to stop the original fire.
The more I read about this and the more I think about it, the more upset I become. There are plenty of factors in play in this story, plenty of arguments about who was wrong and who was right. The house in question was outside of county lines and therefore not under the fire departments jurisdiction, hence the optional fire protection fee since people outside county lines don't pay into the taxes that normally support the fire department. And yes, fire departments do need funding, you can't pay a fire fighter with hugs and sunshine and you can't buy the life saving equipment they use with good wishes. Three years ago the same family had a chimney fire and had not paid their protection fee and the fire department responded anyway, letting them pay the fee after putting out the fire. Some might say the family had simply not learned their lesson the first time and now must deal with the consequences. Others blame the mayor, who was notified of the fire and told the fire department to stand down.
I could spend all day listing who should have done what and when and trying to figure out who's really to blame for this home burning to the ground, but really, that's not my point.
My point is that when there's a fire - you put it out. That's it. End of story. It doesn't matter where it's located, who owns the property, what kind of resources are necessary. When there's a fire, and you have the ability to put it out, YOU PUT THE FIRE OUT. You could get wrapped up in laws and fees and bureacracy OR you remember that you're a human being and do what's right. Human beings help each other. We help a kid up when they trip on the sidewalk. We help the guy stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire. We bring a meal to a neighbor who's sick. We put the damn fire out.
Not to mention the fact that this pay-for-rescue system is just incredibly flawed and dangerous to the public as a whole. I said this on a gawker.com forum last night, but I'll say it again here because I feel it makes my point: The fire spread to a neighbors property and was put out - but only on their property. What if the fire hadn't been so easily contained? Putting out one house on fire doesn't just save that home, it can save entire neighborhoods. Waiting for a fire to spread before doing anything about it is scarily stupid and incredibly dangerous.
In the end, I suppose that all I can say is this: Remember you're a person. Don't be afraid to do what's right even when you don't have to or someone tells you not to bother. Help the little old lady to cross the street. Give a lost stranger directions. Give your friend a ride to the airport even if it IS a total pain in the ass. Be kind.
Don't let a house burn down.
The more I read about this and the more I think about it, the more upset I become. There are plenty of factors in play in this story, plenty of arguments about who was wrong and who was right. The house in question was outside of county lines and therefore not under the fire departments jurisdiction, hence the optional fire protection fee since people outside county lines don't pay into the taxes that normally support the fire department. And yes, fire departments do need funding, you can't pay a fire fighter with hugs and sunshine and you can't buy the life saving equipment they use with good wishes. Three years ago the same family had a chimney fire and had not paid their protection fee and the fire department responded anyway, letting them pay the fee after putting out the fire. Some might say the family had simply not learned their lesson the first time and now must deal with the consequences. Others blame the mayor, who was notified of the fire and told the fire department to stand down.
I could spend all day listing who should have done what and when and trying to figure out who's really to blame for this home burning to the ground, but really, that's not my point.
My point is that when there's a fire - you put it out. That's it. End of story. It doesn't matter where it's located, who owns the property, what kind of resources are necessary. When there's a fire, and you have the ability to put it out, YOU PUT THE FIRE OUT. You could get wrapped up in laws and fees and bureacracy OR you remember that you're a human being and do what's right. Human beings help each other. We help a kid up when they trip on the sidewalk. We help the guy stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire. We bring a meal to a neighbor who's sick. We put the damn fire out.
Not to mention the fact that this pay-for-rescue system is just incredibly flawed and dangerous to the public as a whole. I said this on a gawker.com forum last night, but I'll say it again here because I feel it makes my point: The fire spread to a neighbors property and was put out - but only on their property. What if the fire hadn't been so easily contained? Putting out one house on fire doesn't just save that home, it can save entire neighborhoods. Waiting for a fire to spread before doing anything about it is scarily stupid and incredibly dangerous.
In the end, I suppose that all I can say is this: Remember you're a person. Don't be afraid to do what's right even when you don't have to or someone tells you not to bother. Help the little old lady to cross the street. Give a lost stranger directions. Give your friend a ride to the airport even if it IS a total pain in the ass. Be kind.
Don't let a house burn down.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Emails With No Context: The Return
Jennifer gets all the credit for this hilarious "Email With No Context", for which I of course hate her, but it was too funny and perfect for this series and therefore I begrudgingly allow her continued existence (also she makes yummy cupcakes). For those too lazy to read all the way through, I'll just say this: Skip down and read #8, it's really all you need.
To: Robin
From: Jennifer
Subject: Re: EXCESSIVELY LONG LIST EMAIL
1. I'm already three chapters in.
1b. I'm excessively naughty.
2. Lol, I have no idea if I was carried. Also, I HATE waking up to dirty dishes. It drives me crazy. Plus, we have the occasional fruit fly. So yeah.
3. I have no advice for you. :[
4. I HATE that. The taste bud. The rest too.
5. Sure and let's rewatch, just to be safe.
6. !!!!!!!
7. Lol. I know what that's like. There was this guy from my high school who's alway super-overly friendly and socially awkward and likes to touch you (not inappropriately, he's probably just imitating friendly hugs he sees) and always wants to talk and no matter how well he means any subject he chooses is inevitably like "OH MY GOD GET AWAY FROM ME." But he's the nicest person in the world (except when he makes insensitive meat comments but even then I'm sure he doesn't get it) and it makes you feel awful. He's just socially inept.
8. Bring in a fiber-filled treat for everyone and see what happens. If there's no change, bring in a bowl of condoms.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
TINY GIRAFFE TINY GIRAFFE
Guys! Guys! My cat TOTALLY does this when I give her kisses!!
Also, tiny giraffes WOULD make awesome pets. They could eat house plants!!
Science, after you cure cancer and world hunger could you get on this? Thanks.
Science, after you cure cancer and world hunger could you get on this? Thanks.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The important part is "for all"...
You have a legal right to burn a match book, a comic book, even a holy book. What we protest is not your right to burn a book, but the malicious will behind it.
And yes, you have a right to your malicious will. But I have the right to stand up and say that I think you're wrong.
And yes, you have a right to your malicious will. But I have the right to stand up and say that I think you're wrong.
Monday, September 13, 2010
E-mails With No Context
Sometimes I write e-mails that I just find so amusing that I'm disappointed only the recipient gets to read them and then usually has no appreciation for the time and effort I put into crafting such a fantastic piece of prose. Then I realized - Hey, fuck this, I've got a blog, I'll just post my super awesome underappreciated e-mails on there! And even better, I won't bother explaining what they're actually about! Because that's funny, right? And also works perfectly with my innate laziness! Whatup, narcissism, you gorgeous bitch?!
And so I give you part one in my possibly continuing series:
E-mails With No Context
(or should it be "E-mails Without Context"? I dunno, I keep going back and forth.)
And so I give you part one in my possibly continuing series:
E-mails With No Context
(or should it be "E-mails Without Context"? I dunno, I keep going back and forth.)
To: JS
From: Robin
Subject: You just lost The Game.Since when do receptionists make presentations?"If you look at slide 13, you'll see the proper wrist position for answering a telephone. The telephone was invented by Alexander Graham Bell in order to more efficiently prank his friends and neighbors as 'Ding Dong Ditch' and 'Step on the flaming pile of poo' were becoming antiquated and the amount of effort put into compiling the proper amount of dog poo was more trouble than soiling Watson's shoes was worth..."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Manic!Entry is Manic
Do you know what's worse than being stupid? Being blissfully, ignorantly happy about being stupid. This morning I stopped to at the Dunkin Donuts drive thru to grab a mocha on my way to work (they INSIST on calling it a "mocha latte" which is just DUMB because a mocha and a latte are two different drinks and forcing me to say "mocha latte" seriously offends my barista sensibilities). The guy at the window hands me a giant iced mocha even though I'd said I wanted a hot one (DD also tends to do this, they always just assume I want an iced drink instead of a hot drink, which again offends my barista sensibilities because to me unless you specifically say "iced", coffee and tea drinks are hot by default). This alone isn't stupid, I understand that mistakes happen and sometimes you mishear an order. The problem is that after I pointed this out and he walked away to make the drink I'd actually ordered, I decided I was running late enough already and couldn't wait for a new drink. The little glass window at the drive thru had already slammed shut so I tried to wave at him to come back - and he stood there with this dopey smile AND WAVED BACK AT ME. Seriously? Then he gives me this "one minute" gesture, points out that he's making my drink, AND THEN PROCEEDS TO STARE BLANKLY AT THE WALL. Really? C'mon guy, get a clue - why do you think I'm waving my arms around like a lunatic? Did you think I was landing a fighter jet? Perhaps the rhythm had suddenly got me and I was doing the YMCA? NO! I had to resort to banging on the little metal window ledge to finally get him to come back. And I had to bang HARD* and it hurt my hand and that is just NOT how I want to start my day, thank you! And the most obnoxious part of the experience was that he had this stupid, dopey smile on his face the whole time! I am by nature kind of a curmudgeonly little asshole, so it bothers me enough when people are overly cheerful, but to be overly cheerful AND stupid just makes me want to slap you.
In other news, when I got to work this morning and went to make a phone call a spider jumped out of the receiver. A SPIDER. I think it was a spider, it could have been some other kind of bug with a lot of legs, either way - the possible spider creature is no more. I didn't even scream or anything. Go me.
Now I have to go put things in numerical order. Lovely.
*that's what she said
In other news, when I got to work this morning and went to make a phone call a spider jumped out of the receiver. A SPIDER. I think it was a spider, it could have been some other kind of bug with a lot of legs, either way - the possible spider creature is no more. I didn't even scream or anything. Go me.
Now I have to go put things in numerical order. Lovely.
*that's what she said
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Team Darcy
So awhile ago I was out shopping with my mom and couldn't find a single damn thing I'd ever want to be seen wearing. Everything seemed to either make you look pregnant or have something to do with "Twilight". Stuff like this:
Blech. Freaking Twilight, with it's stupid sparkly vampires and emo werewoles. Gross. Anyway, this somehow turned into me deciding that instead of all this "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob" bullshit we should all just start choosing "teams" from classic literature; Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet....Harry Potter (oh shit, that's a brilliant idea! Nobody steal it!). The first thing that sprang to mind was "Team Darcy", because really, isn't Pride and Prejudice's Mr. Darcy the epitome of classic literature's romantic hero? Seriously, Colin Firth could kick Robert Pattinson's ass any day of the week (at least, y'know, if it were like an acting skills fight). Darcy would be like "Psh, sparkly skin's for girls" and then Edward Cullen would go cry emo tears in a forest while listening to Snow Patrol or something.
Anyway, I jokingly told Jennifer about my idea and she immediately demanded that I make her a "Team Darcy" shirt. It was supposed to be for her bachelorette party, but...uh...I've never been great with deadlines (hence not getting it to her till 2 months after her wedding..oops?).
But today, FINALLY, I hijacked J's printer (and iron), made use of some iron on transfer paper, and finished my masterpiece (I'd designed the graphic ages ago so the hard part was done):
Okay, not the best picture 'cause the one I took with my actual camera and not my phone isn't uploading properly, but this still gives you a good idea. I'm honestly very proud of it, even if Sam of (miss)Adventures in Cooking mercilessly makes fun of me (don't listen to her, she totally wanted to wear shirts like this to work at B&N, she said so months ago when I first told her the idea. Also, I'm pimping her and Frankie's cooking blog so she better learn to keep her trap shut. Got that, Sami?!). I was originally going to make the picture take up more of the shirt, but Jennifer pointed out how that would make it harder to read the text (okay, really what she said is the text would wind up stuck under your boobs and then people wind up awkwardly staring at your chest trying to read your shirt without looking like a straight up perv).
So that was fun and remarkably easy. Iron on transfers seem to work way better than they did when I was a kid. Maybe I'll make more shirts if I have any more brilliant and nerdy brainstorms, so don't go stealing my ideas (especially that Harry Potter one). Seriously. I'll hurt you.
P.S. Stay tuned to SoyChaiBookshelf for pics of the shirt actually being worn (Jennifer promised she'd put up pics and now that I've written about it here she has to follow through. 'Cause you have to do whatever the internet says...right?)
Blech. Freaking Twilight, with it's stupid sparkly vampires and emo werewoles. Gross. Anyway, this somehow turned into me deciding that instead of all this "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob" bullshit we should all just start choosing "teams" from classic literature; Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet....Harry Potter (oh shit, that's a brilliant idea! Nobody steal it!). The first thing that sprang to mind was "Team Darcy", because really, isn't Pride and Prejudice's Mr. Darcy the epitome of classic literature's romantic hero? Seriously, Colin Firth could kick Robert Pattinson's ass any day of the week (at least, y'know, if it were like an acting skills fight). Darcy would be like "Psh, sparkly skin's for girls" and then Edward Cullen would go cry emo tears in a forest while listening to Snow Patrol or something.
Anyway, I jokingly told Jennifer about my idea and she immediately demanded that I make her a "Team Darcy" shirt. It was supposed to be for her bachelorette party, but...uh...I've never been great with deadlines (hence not getting it to her till 2 months after her wedding..oops?).
But today, FINALLY, I hijacked J's printer (and iron), made use of some iron on transfer paper, and finished my masterpiece (I'd designed the graphic ages ago so the hard part was done):
Okay, not the best picture 'cause the one I took with my actual camera and not my phone isn't uploading properly, but this still gives you a good idea. I'm honestly very proud of it, even if Sam of (miss)Adventures in Cooking mercilessly makes fun of me (don't listen to her, she totally wanted to wear shirts like this to work at B&N, she said so months ago when I first told her the idea. Also, I'm pimping her and Frankie's cooking blog so she better learn to keep her trap shut. Got that, Sami?!). I was originally going to make the picture take up more of the shirt, but Jennifer pointed out how that would make it harder to read the text (okay, really what she said is the text would wind up stuck under your boobs and then people wind up awkwardly staring at your chest trying to read your shirt without looking like a straight up perv).
So that was fun and remarkably easy. Iron on transfers seem to work way better than they did when I was a kid. Maybe I'll make more shirts if I have any more brilliant and nerdy brainstorms, so don't go stealing my ideas (especially that Harry Potter one). Seriously. I'll hurt you.
P.S. Stay tuned to SoyChaiBookshelf for pics of the shirt actually being worn (Jennifer promised she'd put up pics and now that I've written about it here she has to follow through. 'Cause you have to do whatever the internet says...right?)
Friday, August 27, 2010
Desperately trying to work in a "Godwin's Law" reference...
Just overheard a coworker say, "....for someone who has a Hitler complex...."
Now, I have absolutely no idea of the context and maybe I'm just really out of the loop but....
....what in the hell is a Hitler complex? Napolean complex, God complex, I've heard of those but seriously, what could you possibly mean when you accuse someone of having a Hitler complex? That's just kind of harsh. I mean, if you're talking specifically about a genocidal, vegetarian painter - okay, I get it. Otherwise...ouch. That's just mean.
Monday, August 23, 2010
"You can't spend the rest of your life crying. It annoys people in the movies."
"You can't spend the rest of your life crying. It annoys people in the movies."
- The Odd Couple
- The Odd Couple
I absolutely HATE to cry in front of other people.
Crying is a thoroughly humiliating experience. You get all red and slimey and snotty and your voice sounds all wimpery and it's just embarrassing. More importantly, it feels like a huge sign of weakness. I know crying isn't REALLY a sign of weakness, but it sometimes feels like one.
For years I never cried in front of anyone except my mother. I wouldn't even let my father in the room when I was crying, which I know hurt him and I feel bad about. The thing is, he would give me this sad, helpless look and I couldn't bear it. I know he just wanted to help but seeing him so sad made me feel terrible in a way I didn't really understand when I was younger. What I've realized is the biggest problem about crying in front of someone else is that most of the time, I wind up feeling worse for them. It's terrible to see someone you care about in pain. Sometimes it's enough to make you want to fall down weeping yourself. In recent years I have in fact broken down and cried in front of my father, who now usually just rushes over and pulls me into a big hug. It's both comforting and saves me from having to see how sad he is to see his daughter cry (because you can't see someone's face when your head's buried in their shoulder!), so I'm all for the bear-hug solution.
Over time my disdain for crying in public has actually turned into this strange way of forcing me to put things into perspective. Once I start crying in front of someone, not only do I start to feel embarrassed but I see how it upsets them and all I want to do is make THEM feel better. I start thinking, "Well, come on, this is just silly. Nothing so bad has happened that I need to sit here and make someone else feel miserable over it." And then I realize not only is there no reason to make someone else feel miserable over my situation, there's no real reason for ME to be miserable over it, either. Before long I'm usually drying my eyes and thinking up sarcastic remarks to make the whole thing seem funny, because laughing is easier than crying and much more attractive, I think.
I guess giving in and crying in front of someone, even if it feels like showing a weakness, is something that winds up making me feel stronger. Instead of wallowing alone in self pity, I reached out to someone and realized maybe things aren't really as bad as they seem. And now, maybe, I can move on.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Texts From This Afternoon...Evening? Whatever
As sent this afternoon (evening?) to Jennifer of Soy Chai Bookshelf:
To: Jennifer
Sent: Aug 21, 6:56 pm
Today I saw a little boy speaking French, a mariachi band perform in a subway car, and a guy get his first hit in a major league game.
To: Jennifer
Sent: Aug 21, 6:57 pm
Oh, also I nearly cut a bitch at Penn Station and accidentally said "twat" in front of my father. Oops.
.
To: Jennifer
Sent: Aug 21, 6:56 pm
Today I saw a little boy speaking French, a mariachi band perform in a subway car, and a guy get his first hit in a major league game.
To: Jennifer
Sent: Aug 21, 6:57 pm
Oh, also I nearly cut a bitch at Penn Station and accidentally said "twat" in front of my father. Oops.
.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
By any other name...
I think my blog needs a new name. "You wanna hold hands on the way home?" is really a random line from an episode of "Family Guy" I was watching when I set up my blog (it was Stewie talking to Brian), but out of context it seems far more weepy, emo chick than I like.
Any ideas?
Any ideas?
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Just be alert when your pants are down...
Ugh!! I am so cranky over this stupid internet dating shit. It is so stupid!! I meet a guy on there, we have a few cute, flirty emails, I suggest meeting for coffee and get this weird, evasive deferral. He doesn't even explain it, just doesn't answer me and when I bring it up again is all, "Oh, we'll figure it out."
Thanks, guy, isn't that what I'm trying to do now? So I figure, okay, he's nervous, I'll just give him a bit of time and wait for him to bring it up.
He keeps IMing me and I reply, but now it's been maybe two weeks and I'm starting to get impatient (I'm looking for a date, not an internet boyfriend I never meet), and then he mentions maybe we should talk on the phone. Now I'm not so good on the phone even with someone I actually KNOW let alone some guy I've barely spoken to online. So finally, after declining the phone call invitation, I say "Look, guy, I'm just confused about why you didn't want to meet," and he explains that he just wants to get to know me better online and over the phone first so we don't meet and have a horrible experience.
Okay, I guess I get that, but to be honest - I'd way rather have a bad meeting over coffee that lasts an hour than spend weeks getting to know a guy I've never seen or spoken to just to decide we have absolutely no chemistry yet are now somewhat emotionally entangled and now I'm stuck breaking up with a guy who I'm not even dating!!!
(blogs are fun because you're totally allowed run-on sentences)
At work the other day I was distractedly skimming Gawker and found this article (which is really just pointing out yet another article) stating:
"Of all the new findings, among the most interesting is this: Less is more...That's because when people exchange a lot of information, they find more reasons to believe that they're very different, researchers say."
Being the picky little bitch I am, I whole-heartedly agree. I'm already terrified of this dating thing and looking for a reason to run for the hills. By telling me how much you love curling up for a night in watching "The Bachelor" and how you think Fox News is the absolute peak of journalistic integrity, you're just giving me more reasons to pack up and consider entering witness protection. How about we just leave a little mystery, save the scary, intimate confessions until at least date two, maybe even date three, just to be safe.
To make my point further, I think I'll turn to a quote that came to mind from one of my favorite Twitter pages (now a book and soon to be a TV show), @shitmydadsays:
"That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them."
And that, I think, sums up this long, stream of consciousness ramble quite nicely.
Goodnight.
Thanks, guy, isn't that what I'm trying to do now? So I figure, okay, he's nervous, I'll just give him a bit of time and wait for him to bring it up.
He keeps IMing me and I reply, but now it's been maybe two weeks and I'm starting to get impatient (I'm looking for a date, not an internet boyfriend I never meet), and then he mentions maybe we should talk on the phone. Now I'm not so good on the phone even with someone I actually KNOW let alone some guy I've barely spoken to online. So finally, after declining the phone call invitation, I say "Look, guy, I'm just confused about why you didn't want to meet," and he explains that he just wants to get to know me better online and over the phone first so we don't meet and have a horrible experience.
Okay, I guess I get that, but to be honest - I'd way rather have a bad meeting over coffee that lasts an hour than spend weeks getting to know a guy I've never seen or spoken to just to decide we have absolutely no chemistry yet are now somewhat emotionally entangled and now I'm stuck breaking up with a guy who I'm not even dating!!!
(blogs are fun because you're totally allowed run-on sentences)
At work the other day I was distractedly skimming Gawker and found this article (which is really just pointing out yet another article) stating:
"Of all the new findings, among the most interesting is this: Less is more...That's because when people exchange a lot of information, they find more reasons to believe that they're very different, researchers say."
Being the picky little bitch I am, I whole-heartedly agree. I'm already terrified of this dating thing and looking for a reason to run for the hills. By telling me how much you love curling up for a night in watching "The Bachelor" and how you think Fox News is the absolute peak of journalistic integrity, you're just giving me more reasons to pack up and consider entering witness protection. How about we just leave a little mystery, save the scary, intimate confessions until at least date two, maybe even date three, just to be safe.
To make my point further, I think I'll turn to a quote that came to mind from one of my favorite Twitter pages (now a book and soon to be a TV show), @shitmydadsays:
"That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them."
And that, I think, sums up this long, stream of consciousness ramble quite nicely.
Goodnight.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Maybe internet dating could use some beer goggles...
I'm nearly two weeks into this online dating thing and so far - not all that impressed. It's not so much the guys (okay, maybe a little bit the guys), but a lot of my annoyance is with the site itself which keeps matching me up with guys that I clearly put down in my preferences as having no interest in (ie guys way too old for me and/or very far away - like in Indiana. Seriously? Indiana?!). The whole thing's just somewhat exhausting. Trying to e-mail someone you don't know and sound charming is way harder than you'd think. Plus skimming through all the guys you DON'T want to talk to is honestly kind of depressing. It makes me sound like a judgmental little bitch, but I spend a lot of time going through emails and profiles of guys thinking, "THESE are the guys who want to date me? What the hell does that say about ME? Ouch."
It's not that there's actually anything wrong with (most) of these guys, I'm just completely uninterested.
Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but that is kind of what these sites are for - being picky and choosy and judgemental - which is a lot easier to do on the internet than at a bar. It's easier to put yourself out there when you don't actually have to look a person in the eye, just like it's easier to say, "Oh, hell no!" when you don't ACTUALLY have to respond to cheesy come-ons. Not to mention most of the guy I've attempted to contact haven't responded, so who knows what they're secretly thinking when they see my profile.
I guess it's really just a numbers game. You put yourself in this HUGE pool of people, the odds are you're going to get more misses than hits.
Maybe this whole thing would be easier if I had a couple of drinks before checking my email...
Meanwhile, at least the cute boy at Wawa flirts with me when I get my iced tea in the morning. Not a bad way to start a day.
It's not that there's actually anything wrong with (most) of these guys, I'm just completely uninterested.
Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but that is kind of what these sites are for - being picky and choosy and judgemental - which is a lot easier to do on the internet than at a bar. It's easier to put yourself out there when you don't actually have to look a person in the eye, just like it's easier to say, "Oh, hell no!" when you don't ACTUALLY have to respond to cheesy come-ons. Not to mention most of the guy I've attempted to contact haven't responded, so who knows what they're secretly thinking when they see my profile.
I guess it's really just a numbers game. You put yourself in this HUGE pool of people, the odds are you're going to get more misses than hits.
Maybe this whole thing would be easier if I had a couple of drinks before checking my email...
Meanwhile, at least the cute boy at Wawa flirts with me when I get my iced tea in the morning. Not a bad way to start a day.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
If Charlie Brown were a 25 year old woman...
I would like to preface this story by saying: I'm not a large person. In fact, I'm rather small. As a kid I could only have been describe as scrawny, and while not as boney and twiglike as I was when I was younger, I'm still rather thin. I wear size "small" t-shirts. My dress size is about a 4. I've been whining and moaning a lot lately about gaining a few pounds and how I feel fat, but the truth is, I'm still pretty small and I'm just complaining because - well - sometimes a girl just needs to complain, even if it's over something dumb and petty.
I'm not saying this to sound like a snooty jerk bragging about her weight. There's nothing wrong with being not small. Or even with being large, as long as you're healthy and happy. I'm just making the point about my size because to truly understand the hilarity of this story, you have to know, I'm small.
----------------------------------
So the other day I went shopping and bought this shirt in "knight navy" at Delias. As with pretty much every shirt or dress nowadays, it's an "empire waist" meaning "we fashion designers think your waist belongs directly below your boobs".
So I'm wearing my lovely new shirt at work today and I'm walking towards the bathroom with my hand kinda clutched near my waist (I have no pockets and I was trying to be discreet about the pad - as in sanitary napkin, not notebook - I was carrying. Why I thought holding the thing in right in front of me was discreet, I have no idea.) and I run into one of the building's cleaning women. She's pretty young, probably younger than me, and she doesn't speak much English at all, but I always smile and wave when I see her 'cause she spends a lot of time in the lobby where I sit cleaning and vacuuming and stuff.
Anyway, I run into the girl and I smile at her and she smiles back and suddenly she points at me and says, "You - baby?"
"Sorry?"
"You - baby?" And she's pointing at my stomach.
The girl thought I was pregnant.
Fortunately, turning bright red, waving my arms around and yelling "No! No! No!" gets the point across in almost any language.
Stupid fashion designers and their stupid baby doll shirts.
I know it really has to be because of the shirt but still...I think this must be how Charlie Brown feels after Lucy pulls the football away. Except fat.
So I'm wearing my lovely new shirt at work today and I'm walking towards the bathroom with my hand kinda clutched near my waist (I have no pockets and I was trying to be discreet about the pad - as in sanitary napkin, not notebook - I was carrying. Why I thought holding the thing in right in front of me was discreet, I have no idea.) and I run into one of the building's cleaning women. She's pretty young, probably younger than me, and she doesn't speak much English at all, but I always smile and wave when I see her 'cause she spends a lot of time in the lobby where I sit cleaning and vacuuming and stuff.
Anyway, I run into the girl and I smile at her and she smiles back and suddenly she points at me and says, "You - baby?"
"Sorry?"
"You - baby?" And she's pointing at my stomach.
The girl thought I was pregnant.
Fortunately, turning bright red, waving my arms around and yelling "No! No! No!" gets the point across in almost any language.
Stupid fashion designers and their stupid baby doll shirts.
I know it really has to be because of the shirt but still...I think this must be how Charlie Brown feels after Lucy pulls the football away. Except fat.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Creepsters Need Not Apply
I have taken the terrifying plunge back into the world of internet dating.
I say "back into" because maybe a year or so ago I tried it out, only to wind up terrified after some guy friended me on the dating site, facebooked me, and IMed me all within five minutes of finding my profile - despite the fact that the dating site I was using didn't list my last name, e-mail address, or screen name. It didn't help that it was midnight. And I was sitting alone in my room. In the dark.
When I told him I was no longer interested in online dating (a decision made the second I got his IM) and refused to answer any of his questions he basically responded with the internet equivalent of stomping his foot, pouting, and running off in a huff. It was something along the lines of "Well, good luck finding anyone decent any other way," but in a funny color font and without as much punctuation.
I finally decided to give it another try after realizing just how long my dating dry spell has been going on and how I really don't meet anyone out in the real world. I don't go to bars, I've never randomly struck up a conversation with a cute guy in a coffee shop, and no one has attempted to hit on me while I'm choosing between melons at the grocery store (though that could be because I've never bought a melon in my life). Most of the time I find guys who try to talk to me out of nowhere to be kind of creepy. I'd say I was just being paranoid or picky, but I genuinely think these guys are creepy! And friends who've been with me at the time tend to agree!
A lot of the creepy come-ons came while I was working as a barista. There was the homeless guy who gave me a Pez dispenser the day after Halloween (literally - a stranger giving me candy). The guy who thought that acting like he was kind of stupid would get him girls - first he asked me if I could help figure out the SD card he'd just bought for his phone. Then he started coming up to the counter any time a cute girl was ordering a drink and asking her if she knew how to spell a certain word. By the third time he'd come up to ask how to spell "hippopotamus" or something like that, I was on to his game and started running into the back room pretending I had something important to take care of. One older guy in a bad toupee once told me I had beautiful skin. Skin?! My skin?! That has go to be one of the creepiest parts of the anatomy you could possibly choose to compliment someone on. Saying "You have beautiful skin," to a total stranger just sounds like it's about to be followed by "I think I'd like to wear it some day."
I guess there are creepy guys no matter where you look. Which is why tonight when two hours after I posted my dating profile I received a message from a man in his fifties wearing sunglasses and impossibly bad toupee in his photo and commenting on how near each other we lived, I had to simply fight my gag reflex, make sure the door was securely locked, and move on to the next.
I say "back into" because maybe a year or so ago I tried it out, only to wind up terrified after some guy friended me on the dating site, facebooked me, and IMed me all within five minutes of finding my profile - despite the fact that the dating site I was using didn't list my last name, e-mail address, or screen name. It didn't help that it was midnight. And I was sitting alone in my room. In the dark.
When I told him I was no longer interested in online dating (a decision made the second I got his IM) and refused to answer any of his questions he basically responded with the internet equivalent of stomping his foot, pouting, and running off in a huff. It was something along the lines of "Well, good luck finding anyone decent any other way," but in a funny color font and without as much punctuation.
I finally decided to give it another try after realizing just how long my dating dry spell has been going on and how I really don't meet anyone out in the real world. I don't go to bars, I've never randomly struck up a conversation with a cute guy in a coffee shop, and no one has attempted to hit on me while I'm choosing between melons at the grocery store (though that could be because I've never bought a melon in my life). Most of the time I find guys who try to talk to me out of nowhere to be kind of creepy. I'd say I was just being paranoid or picky, but I genuinely think these guys are creepy! And friends who've been with me at the time tend to agree!
A lot of the creepy come-ons came while I was working as a barista. There was the homeless guy who gave me a Pez dispenser the day after Halloween (literally - a stranger giving me candy). The guy who thought that acting like he was kind of stupid would get him girls - first he asked me if I could help figure out the SD card he'd just bought for his phone. Then he started coming up to the counter any time a cute girl was ordering a drink and asking her if she knew how to spell a certain word. By the third time he'd come up to ask how to spell "hippopotamus" or something like that, I was on to his game and started running into the back room pretending I had something important to take care of. One older guy in a bad toupee once told me I had beautiful skin. Skin?! My skin?! That has go to be one of the creepiest parts of the anatomy you could possibly choose to compliment someone on. Saying "You have beautiful skin," to a total stranger just sounds like it's about to be followed by "I think I'd like to wear it some day."
I guess there are creepy guys no matter where you look. Which is why tonight when two hours after I posted my dating profile I received a message from a man in his fifties wearing sunglasses and impossibly bad toupee in his photo and commenting on how near each other we lived, I had to simply fight my gag reflex, make sure the door was securely locked, and move on to the next.
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