"for the life of me - i cannot remember. what made us think that we were wise and never compromised"
oh the verve. this song has been running through my head all day. why? because i belted it out in a real-life version of rock band into the wee hours last night. why? because i'm an idiot. and a really awesome wingman.
though it doesn't seem like it from my posts, i don't go out very hard most nights. it's rare that i venture out more than one night during the weekend and school nights are reserved for QT with the DVR unless it's a special occasion. somehow though, i find myself still getting into ridiculous late night situations. somehow i manage to push back any thoughts of bedtime at a decent hour and proceed into the murky abyss of karaoke at 5am. and this is how it happens...
i started the evening with a few glasses of wine at dinner with my dad. i met some friends at a classy joint where i sipped on jameson and ginger ale. 2 to be exact. after these drinks, the responsible thing would have been to have a nightcap and then head home.
instead me and my friends decided to continue to quench our thirst at another nearby establishment. this place was rowdy. rowdy enough that i agreed to take a shot. rowdy enough that we closed down the bar. rowdy enough that it seemed like a great idea to join some new friends at their studio at an abandoned milk factory. what i'm leaving out of this story was the purpose of me coming along. i was wingman for the evening. arguably the world's best wingman in the history of all wingmen for what went down.
i tell this story as a warning. kids - don't ever agree to hang out at a studio that some guys rent out by themselves at an old factory in wisconsin. it's guaranteed that they're probably really terrible musicians. it's also a lesson in which band members to hang out with. it's probably also guaranteed that the drummer and the keyboard player won't be the best vocalists. nor the best guitar players.
all this information is great to know in hindsight, but when you end up participating in a 3-hour "jam session" that includes such green day favorites as "basketcase", "boulevard of broken dreams" on repeat, there's a lesson to be learned.
nothing good happens after 2am. especially if it involves musical instruments. and spiked egg nog.
"my shadow's the only thing that walks beside me..." my shadow is feeling pretty rough today. pretty rough indeed.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
shine on
i officially have a thanksgiving tradition. if you complete something 2 times it's a fun repeat; the third time indicates it's a tradition. 3rd annual also means it's necessary to make t-shirts to mark the occasion. the tradition goes as follows:
night before thanksgiving - i ride the penn station bus to rosslyn, va. per tradition, i also sit next to an odd older man who is not old enough nor odd enough to weird me out. just enough for me to take notice and watch my belongings.
i spend the evening at the home of my friend tracy (now mrs. casey).
we wake up, shower, put on jeans to pretend like we're leaving the house, but just watch football and eat for the remainder of the day. casey is forced to go to boston market to purchase our "turkey for 3"; we leave the couch long enough to make green bean casserole to complement the ready-made meal. after 3 years of boston market, we have yet to figure out why exactly they have a meal for 3, but we don't question the awesomeness of the deal, nor the 3 sides that accompany the turkey and gravy.
after dinner we half-heartedly throw out potential activities that would involve leaving the apartment: shooting pool, darts, etc. a pseudo-lengthy debate ensues until we decide to watch a movie on the couch.
friday morning we head out to the mountains. prior to entering the wilderness, we stop at virginia's version of culver's - aka spelunker's. the color, taste, clientele all scream culvers, right down to the cerulean pleather booths.
we end our last civilian journey by hitting up the gas station restrooms. while i have to say the outhouse accommodations have improved vastly since our first-year's cabin (we wore clothespins on our noses until we had drank enough to not notice the smell)it's no bathroom with an attendant. or really anything beyond a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.
when entering the state park, it's mandatory to play john denver. we have to take the battered road carefully; the treacherous roadway taunts casey's ford focus. one of these years we may have to abandon the car on the road.
friday night it's just the three of us: casey, tracy, and myself. we spend a few hours searching for firewood and setting up the cabin. darkness sets at 5pm - time for dinner and to crack open our first drinks. as any good wisconsinite would, we drink miller lite or mgd with dinner but have a nice cocktail as an appetizer before our meal. since we're "adults" now, the drink of choice is an old fashioned.
we don't have electricity in our humble abode so dinner is cooked over the stove and a tiny gas cooker casey has from camping. this year we managed to make curried chicken and rice. (we're way craftier than we sometimes appear). after dinner it's time for games. it's customary to play at least one game of oregon trail, a drinking game (naturally) that i created a few years back from a deck of cards. sixes are the worst: "oxen died. mystery flask." the first year we went camping, casey brought a flask in which he had no idea the type of alcohol. from that year on, he takes it upon himself to bring the flask with a new poison. no one is allowed to speak of what's in it until everyone has tried it. year one was whiskey, year two was peach schnapps, and this year it was tequila. the kicker was that the flask still smelt of the schnapps. speaking from experience, it's pretty brutal to take a sniff of faux-peaches before gulping down a swig of jose. another staple of friday night is scrabble. there's really nothing funnier than playing scrabble by candlelight and headlamps. bedtime resides somewhere around 10:30 or 11. there's something about hitting total darkness by 5pm that evokes an early bedtime. no wonder the settlers got up at dawn every day.
day 2 begins with the three of us slaving over the stove to make breakfast and coffee. we're not fancy enough to grind our own stuff; we just make the instant java. all of us have worked in the corporate world long enough to be able to down the really crappy brew. the first part of our morning is spent scouring the woods for firewood until the arrival of the rest of the crew. with the exception of myself, all other members of the cabin team are DC friends (and sometimes their significant others) of casey and tracy. i see these folks once a year - and always after i have been in the woods sans shower overnight. at casey and tracy's wedding this fall, i saw a handful of the cabin crew and one of the girls couldn't quite place me in "real-life" clothing:
"hey! i didn't recognize you without your bandana!"
our group of 10 mainly consists of wisconsin transplants. this means that it's necessary for at least 3 members of the group to bring brats, and any salads include blocks of cheese. once everyone gets settled into the cabin, we go on a hike. last year, we tried to do a 2.6 mile hike (each way) to the end of one of the trails. after a good few hours of hiking, we were convinced we had missed a turn. this year we had a GPS watch tracking our distance. turns out we needed to hike another 40 minutes or so to get to the end. after our hike, it's cocktail hour. basically that means we don't play any drinking games while sipping our beverages.
the next few hours mainly consist of multiple rounds of food: chili, pasta salad (with cheese, of course), brats, hot dogs, kabobs, brownies, smores. really there's no particular order to any of it; it's not unusual for anyone to finish up a few smores with a brat. in between rounds of food are rounds of catch phrase and/or card games, all of which necessitate the need to utilize the mystery flask. this year we had the special treat of authentic moonshine (corn whiskey). that stuff is a brutal combination of shitty alcohol and the faint taste of stale popcorn.
per the usual, we're all in bed by midnight (it's easier to stay up later with a big group). we wake up early and start the day with a meal of leftovers and some sort of bacon product. then it's time to head home: everyone else makes their way back to the burbs, i load onto the bus (hopefully after a shower) for my ride back to ny. all in all it's a tradition that can't be beat. we're already starting to brainstorm t-shirt ideas for next year.
night before thanksgiving - i ride the penn station bus to rosslyn, va. per tradition, i also sit next to an odd older man who is not old enough nor odd enough to weird me out. just enough for me to take notice and watch my belongings.
i spend the evening at the home of my friend tracy (now mrs. casey).
we wake up, shower, put on jeans to pretend like we're leaving the house, but just watch football and eat for the remainder of the day. casey is forced to go to boston market to purchase our "turkey for 3"; we leave the couch long enough to make green bean casserole to complement the ready-made meal. after 3 years of boston market, we have yet to figure out why exactly they have a meal for 3, but we don't question the awesomeness of the deal, nor the 3 sides that accompany the turkey and gravy.
after dinner we half-heartedly throw out potential activities that would involve leaving the apartment: shooting pool, darts, etc. a pseudo-lengthy debate ensues until we decide to watch a movie on the couch.
friday morning we head out to the mountains. prior to entering the wilderness, we stop at virginia's version of culver's - aka spelunker's. the color, taste, clientele all scream culvers, right down to the cerulean pleather booths.
we end our last civilian journey by hitting up the gas station restrooms. while i have to say the outhouse accommodations have improved vastly since our first-year's cabin (we wore clothespins on our noses until we had drank enough to not notice the smell)it's no bathroom with an attendant. or really anything beyond a hole in the ground with a toilet seat.
when entering the state park, it's mandatory to play john denver. we have to take the battered road carefully; the treacherous roadway taunts casey's ford focus. one of these years we may have to abandon the car on the road.
friday night it's just the three of us: casey, tracy, and myself. we spend a few hours searching for firewood and setting up the cabin. darkness sets at 5pm - time for dinner and to crack open our first drinks. as any good wisconsinite would, we drink miller lite or mgd with dinner but have a nice cocktail as an appetizer before our meal. since we're "adults" now, the drink of choice is an old fashioned.
we don't have electricity in our humble abode so dinner is cooked over the stove and a tiny gas cooker casey has from camping. this year we managed to make curried chicken and rice. (we're way craftier than we sometimes appear). after dinner it's time for games. it's customary to play at least one game of oregon trail, a drinking game (naturally) that i created a few years back from a deck of cards. sixes are the worst: "oxen died. mystery flask." the first year we went camping, casey brought a flask in which he had no idea the type of alcohol. from that year on, he takes it upon himself to bring the flask with a new poison. no one is allowed to speak of what's in it until everyone has tried it. year one was whiskey, year two was peach schnapps, and this year it was tequila. the kicker was that the flask still smelt of the schnapps. speaking from experience, it's pretty brutal to take a sniff of faux-peaches before gulping down a swig of jose. another staple of friday night is scrabble. there's really nothing funnier than playing scrabble by candlelight and headlamps. bedtime resides somewhere around 10:30 or 11. there's something about hitting total darkness by 5pm that evokes an early bedtime. no wonder the settlers got up at dawn every day.
day 2 begins with the three of us slaving over the stove to make breakfast and coffee. we're not fancy enough to grind our own stuff; we just make the instant java. all of us have worked in the corporate world long enough to be able to down the really crappy brew. the first part of our morning is spent scouring the woods for firewood until the arrival of the rest of the crew. with the exception of myself, all other members of the cabin team are DC friends (and sometimes their significant others) of casey and tracy. i see these folks once a year - and always after i have been in the woods sans shower overnight. at casey and tracy's wedding this fall, i saw a handful of the cabin crew and one of the girls couldn't quite place me in "real-life" clothing:
"hey! i didn't recognize you without your bandana!"
our group of 10 mainly consists of wisconsin transplants. this means that it's necessary for at least 3 members of the group to bring brats, and any salads include blocks of cheese. once everyone gets settled into the cabin, we go on a hike. last year, we tried to do a 2.6 mile hike (each way) to the end of one of the trails. after a good few hours of hiking, we were convinced we had missed a turn. this year we had a GPS watch tracking our distance. turns out we needed to hike another 40 minutes or so to get to the end. after our hike, it's cocktail hour. basically that means we don't play any drinking games while sipping our beverages.
the next few hours mainly consist of multiple rounds of food: chili, pasta salad (with cheese, of course), brats, hot dogs, kabobs, brownies, smores. really there's no particular order to any of it; it's not unusual for anyone to finish up a few smores with a brat. in between rounds of food are rounds of catch phrase and/or card games, all of which necessitate the need to utilize the mystery flask. this year we had the special treat of authentic moonshine (corn whiskey). that stuff is a brutal combination of shitty alcohol and the faint taste of stale popcorn.
per the usual, we're all in bed by midnight (it's easier to stay up later with a big group). we wake up early and start the day with a meal of leftovers and some sort of bacon product. then it's time to head home: everyone else makes their way back to the burbs, i load onto the bus (hopefully after a shower) for my ride back to ny. all in all it's a tradition that can't be beat. we're already starting to brainstorm t-shirt ideas for next year.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the way you've always been
my first friend in NY that i didn't know from the midwest was my roommate jocelyn. she has previously been mentioned as a ringleader of awesomeness in some of my more debaucherous tales while living in brooklyn, but has steered clear of any recent blog acknowledgements as of late mostly because of my detour in queens and her starting a band.
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
recently i've been able to make it to more of her shows. i realized a few months ago that i was a total slacker the past year in making time for extra curricular activities. a good portion of that had to do with my heath (read: gallbladder/gluten fiascos of the last 14 months) but i came to discover that i was doing a crappy job of keeping up with my friends. while "adult jeni" still needs to get at least 8 hours of rest whenever possible, i've made it a priority to make it out to see people on a regular basis - especially whenever they are showing off any of their skills.
jocelyn is a fountain of craftiness. there is nothing that she can't do - with the exception of anything related to watching/participating in organized sports. i have no doubts that she would master "playing" any game she chose, but that's not really her style. she has plenty of other things to fill her days/nights: burlesque dancing, knitting, drawing, and writing/singing songs that are so masterful i sometimes watch in wonder as to how this girl and i shared a 400 sq ft apartment (with another roommate, no less) for a year and i only had small hints into her creative genius in musical endeavors.
we've never lost touch over the past few years. it gets hard to get together often since our schedules are so off from one another, but we have remained in constant contact throughout even after her stint back in jersey with her parents, breakups, and borough hopping.
last night i went to her show at a bar in greenpoint. it was the final stop of the bands tour - i was also fortunate enough to make it to their first show in the tour (they started and ended in NYC).
the place was packed wall-to-wall with people as it grew nearer to when it was time for pearl and the beard to go on. people were constantly coming up to jocelyn to congratulate her; there was a constant stream of fans tipping their drinks to her as she bounced around the space prior to when they went up.
somehow in this craziness, jocelyn and i had a moment to talk. the crowd was getting revved up, the previous band was great but it was obvious the great majority of the crowd had come specifically to see jocelyn and her bandmates perform. she looked around at the crowd and then gave me a huge grin.
"do you remember when we were living in that apartment and how i said i wished i would do music again?"
"of course i do. i remember one of your first shows when it was just you and jeremy and your little xylophone. there were probably 10 people in the room counting you guys."
"it just makes me so happy that there are so many people here that love what i'm doing and who loved me when i wasn't doing music."
when the band went up to play, the band could have forgotten all of the words and it wouldn't have mattered. the crowd knew all the songs, shouted out requests, and booed when the venue wouldn't let the band play an encore (the sets were already an hour behind).
i meet probably 10 people a year who say they want to do x,y, and z. they should be an actor, a business professional - whatever. jocelyn is the only one i know who has made it happen.
this is her in action:
Sunday, November 8, 2009
halt - thief!!
last night we had a roommate excursion to ft. greene. due to our lack of planning and laziness, post dinner we decided to go back to park slope for a drink rather than continuing our fun near our dinner locale.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
saturday night train rides - or really any weekend riding - is a tricky experience. sometimes you can be lucky enough to catch a train within the first few minutes of waiting, other trips can leave you hanging out at the prince street station with a woman hugging her knees and telling you about the dinosaur "conspiracy" for upwards of an hour while you struggle to stay awake.
last night we ran into the g station just in time to grab a train. for no explicable reason, the g train is shorter/smaller than most every station it pulls into, forcing anyone on the back end of the station to sprint to the last car in order to make your way inside. as we were fleeing towards the final car, the three of us were stopped by a policewoman:
PW: "you can't take that train."
hannah: "why? it's right there."
PW: "i need to swipe your cards to check that you guys paid."
- the three of us look at each other in disbelief
me: "you're really going to make us miss this train?"
PW: "yes. come up with me to check your cards."
the train exits the station. begrudgingly, we follow her back up to the turnstiles. she goes to the info booth, checks our cards, then lets us go.
we go back downstairs and wait for the next train. luckily another one came within 5 minutes, but man. i still can't figure this one out. with all of the crime, crazy people, and general unrest at late night subway stations, this police officer took the time to stop us to check our tickets at 10pm on a saturday. this was one of the entrances with the full body turnstile - unless you're really making an effort to share the space with another human being, you can't jump over the bar or squeeze through without it turning.
i used to wonder why new yorkers don't have the patience to deal with people just doing their job. this cannot fall under any job duty, with maybe the exception of being annoying so you don't have to do any real work. like catch criminals.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
score one for me
yesterday was my mama's birthday. an excerpt from our email exchange:
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
mom: "...had an amazing bd...Becka downloaded all of the songs from GLEE for me and made me cupcakes..."
me: "sorry i couldn't be there to watch you blow out all 30 candles"
mom: "you are a smart and wonderful daughter"
why yes i am.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
it's not the crunch of the leaves
my new apartment is nice. it's nothing extravagant, but a very charming little place that's clean and is the habitat of two awesome roommates. (it also contains numerous religious artifacts purchased at nearby dollar stores - there are good auras all around.)
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
i moved in knowing there had been a mouse sighting a few weeks back. in ny, rodents, creatures, cockroaches, and all sorts of etymological wonders aren't uncommon encounters on a regular basis. felix- a baby mouse - was the animal de jour in our abode. if i'm going to share my space with any rodent it better be a teeny companion over something with giant teeth, plus felix was elusive - a recluse. i wouldn't have believed his existence if not for the photographic evidence the roomies were able to capture, so i didn't think anything of him. out of sight, out of mind.
when i got home tonight, i ran for the loo as soon as i got home. i took a two steps into the bathroom before turning on the light. on my second step, i felt a crunch. a bone crunching, life smothering, blood spattering crunch. i turned on the light, expecting to come face to face with the world's largest cockroach. instead i was confronted with the lifeless carcass of felix. after weeks and weeks of evading capture, i managed to smush him while blindly going to pee. the odds of this event are unbelievable, yet all i can think of is how grateful i am i was still wearing my shoes.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
funny bone
i'm awkward. not in a completely socially inept sort of way, but the kind where i trip and fall a lot. for that reason (and my almost complete lack of rhythym) i try to avoid the dance floor sober as much as possible. my awkwardness reached new heights last night. i was running into the bathroom (i drank a tall starbucks chai on the ride home) and crashed into my sink. it was a very fashionable fall - i was still in my work clothes. but beyond that it really wasn't pretty. i didn't injure myself majorly, but i swacked my elbow just about as hard as possible without cracking it into two. there's no bruise, but it hurts like a major biotch. add that to the fact that i spend all day, every day using my arm to navigate my computer (yup - its a very physically demanding career). i know i'm a whiner, but man, it hurts.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the thing
we all have "things" we don't really divulge to the public. "things" we consider private. we keep them to ourselves, or at least a very small contingency of friends. we try to make a conscious decision when to share them, who to share them with, and control the situation as much as we possibly can. with gossip and just general human nature there's only so much to control, but usually a person has some say in the matter.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
that is unless your pregnant.
i should preface this by saying i'm not pregnant. not that anyone is surprised by this news, but i do live thousands away from my hometown. if not for facebook, i could probably show up with a 3 year old for my high school reunion next year and no one would bat an eye. regardless, when i say "friend" in this post, i really mean it.
i've suddenly reached the age where i large contingency of friends are having kids. from my experience in this matter, the chain of events for the baby announcement are pretty standard. the happy couple waits a few months to make sure everything's on track before they spread the news. there are plenty of signs of what's going on in the meantime, but it's all rumor. no one wants to be the jackass to ask the question. or be the first one to start the whispers. privacy is upheld, the public pretends they have no clue, we all go on ranting about the latest vh1 celeb-reality show. all is quiet on the homefront.
eventually the announcement is made, and that my friends, is where it turns into one giant free-for-all. for the rest of us non-vessels, our "things" carry limited publicity. we can control the message, unveil it in a press conference or via twitter - whatever suits you. but for the lucky few (many if you've been witness to the NYC epidemic this summer) who are anticipating visits from the stork, the body rebels. you're SOL.
before you can be comfortable with what's going on, the whole world knows what's up. they feel entitled to provide advice, pry into your personal life, and well - touch your stomach. the stomach thing is something i find both fascinating and awkward. i don't want to touch a friend's stomach in any capacity in daily life. i mean, i love my friends, but it's just not necessary. i find it odd that relative strangers suddenly reserve the right to touch what was months earlier a sacred, no-touch zone. no woman wants to have their stomach touched by anyone outside of their significant other. even if they do have abs of steel. i think it's a deep-seeded fear of it being the future home of a FUPA, but whatever the case, it's just not cool to touch the tummy.
it took me a while to realize, but "bad" or "good" stomach touches aside, everyone carries their "thing" with them through their adult life. that's just how it is. most "things" take an adjustment period - not unlike the first trimester of incubatory secrecy - it's just that for non-pregnant folks the incubation can last years or months. there comes a time to share with the people you love, but it needs to happen at a time where you feel safe and comfortable sharing with the world. the women with babies percolating inside them are forced to mentally prepare themselves to divulge their "thing" with the world. the rest of us should take a cue from them. i'm not talking about facebook status updates, but in an honest, non-shrink sort of way. i look at many of my "friends" status updates and worry...we're all good at saying what's "on our mind" NOW, but 140 characters of immediate public awareness doesn't really provide a great arena for reflection. nor does it really provide a great outlet for honesty with your non-virtual friends.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
cha-cha-changes
oct is a big month for me as life changes go:
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
new job.
new apt.
new phone.
really, if you tally all of the major parts of my life here, those are some major life-defining items besides my friends. (with my old phone, i lost all numbers and purged any extraneous ones.) what's odd about ny is that really all i'd have to do is change the borough i live in to have an entirely different life. in psychology, there's an effect (sorry, the name is escaping me and i'm too lazy to google) where one's identity and friendships are completely defined by where they live.
in ny, it's like a long-distance relationship to interact with people who you don't work with/live in a different borough. i dated a guy in the bronx a few years ago when i lived in williamsburg. though we could take trains to get to each others' places, it was the time equivalent of commuting from madison to milwaukee every day.
i got to a point a few months ago where i felt like i was in a rut. nothing was wrong or terrible, i just felt like i needed some changes. i didn't anticipate all of these happening all within days of each other, but i really can't complain. with all these changes, i'm working on stepping it up in the blog writing dept. i've been a total slacker lately - that needs to change.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
over the hill
today i was asked what i hoped my life was like in 10 years. i remember getting that question in college and being able to babble on about my career, my house, my serious live-in boyfriend (marriage has never been high on my list of priorities). when you're 18, your mid-twenties seem like some distant enchanted land.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
you'll have money to buy whatever you want! you can drink whenever - without ever getting carded! friends will have lavish wine parties where you'll talk politics and eat tiny hors devours with toothpicks!
some of these things are true, but drinking loses its glamour once you don't get carded trying to get a miller after work. sure gadgets are within reach, but disposable income is not as plentiful as one would think after bills and food. wine parties are fun, and there are toothpicks and little sandwiches, but the political talk always seems doused in $5 trader joes (or in most cases something in the $15 variety) and the next morning the only lasting effects are a hazy headache and gut rot.
don't get me wrong, i don't think i honestly could have imagined a better life if i would have tried. i'm happy, (relatively) healthy, and i have a great group of friends. i have a career i love, and i managed to move halfway across the country and find a new home. but in my mind there is no reason to answer the 10 year question. a year or two ahead, maybe more, but i have a hard time identifying with my peers who have a set plan for their lives down to what the next year will entail. i'm all about goals, but i just can't be that planful.
maybe that's why i need to live in ny. i'm surrounded by millions of people - many of which who are in a stage of arrested development. most of us are career focused and work very hard to achieve a level of success. there are plenty of examples of organized folks whose paths i can emulate when i am ready to be more organized, but this place allows me to be the norm rather than the exception for having no idea what the next year will have in store for me. sure i have goals, but i can take a few detours and never feel like i'm on the wrong path.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
ma'am, can you repeat that?
this morning i woke up to screaming. actually, i think it was yelling. whatever it was, it was damn loud and really scary. some dude was banging on my neighbors door, calling them a f&$*^# b^%&# and telling them to quit banging on his ceiling. my guess is that he's the same douche that cranks shitty 80s music at 7am every weekend, but i have no actual proof.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
all of the other 5 apts in my section of the building have kids living there. this means that he was probably screaming a)in front of his kids (or loud enough for them to hear); and b)at an apt that had 2-3 small children inside.
as a 115lb white girl, i don't have a ton of pull in a situation like this, so i thought it best to leave it to the authorities. the police here are pretty shoddy in their response, so i opted to call our on-site management company. at the very least i figured they'd send over one of the hulking dudes that has let me in when i've forgotten my keys. they all look like former linemen - the least they could do is tell some enraged idiot to shove it.
so i call the "emergency" number we have for weekends:
"please state your name and apt #"
(i provide it)
"i'm not calling because of maintenance. some neighbor is calling another a 'f$&*^#$ b&$*$' and banging on their door. it's scary."
"ma'am, can you please repeat your phone number?
(i provide it, AGAIN)
"ma'am, am i correct to understand that this man is cursing?"
"yes, he's banging and yelling FUCKING BITCH"
"oh, alright ma'am. so he's cursing."
"yup. and banging. it's woken up the entire building and i assume everyone is as scared to come out of their apt as i am"
"ok ma'am. can you hold please?"
"yes, but can you just send someone over here?"
"hold please."
(i wait for 3-5 min)
"ma'am, i think it's best for you to just call the police.
thanks sir. like i didn't think of that before. hopefully i won't be knifed in my sleep in the next 30 days before i can move out.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
pancakes and fish hooks
there are days in ny that are indisputable reminders that this is where i'm meant to be (at this stage in my life). trying to plan these days are like trying to plan new year's. high expectations and hype that lead to utter disappointment - and usually a terrible hangover. today was a spectacular day, completely without a plan. it was a string of random events - mostly mundane and obscure - but collectively they made me so happy that i live in a place where these days can happen on a fairly regular basis without it being strange. i'll try to explain it as best i can but on paper (screen), though i can guarantee it will seem ridiculous and boring.
the day started with banana pancakes. it should be stated that i really don't like pancakes in general, but banana ones are pretty awesome. bananas are the only fruit i'll tolerate in anything beyond pie. meg was cooking - which is important to this story only in that i completely forgot she moved this week. here i am goofing around at my apt cleaning up and doing random chores for a few hours, when i really should have been moving my ass to harlem. luckily i realized this just as i left my building, but nonetheless going to brunch in the wrong borough is usually not the makings of a great day.
despite any geographical snafus, the weather was amazing and i really didn't care about the extra trek. plus there were fresh blueberries waiting for me when i got there, making up for my lack of planning. after pancakes the decision was made to go to central park. in the 3 years i've lived here i can count the number of times i've been to the park on one hand. one was a borderline-scary first date where i feared i would be chopped up into little bits, scattered on the great lawn. this has since left me a wee bit fearful of the park in general. today though, i saw the place with fresh eyes. maybe it was because we entered at the northern-most point. maybe it was because it was daylight and i had no suspicions that i may end up as the season opener of 48-hours. whatever the reason i was damn happy to be there.
when we got to the park, we saw a sign for canoeing. not just canoeing, but FREE canoeing. we jumped in line next to a bunch of little kids, soon finding ourselves in the middle of the pond in the nexus of the park. surrounded by greenery and gorgeous architecture, we barely noticed the surplus of algae building up on the corners of our boat. i've left out the racial profiling the park rangers did on us: assuming we had canoed before because we were white. but that's a minute complaint compared to the tiny turtle that hung out next to the boat and the little kid who stopped to tell us about the GIANT snapping turtle that he caught with his lure. (he was probably 5 with a lisp and an insanely loud voice. one of those boys who is great to talk to for a few minutes, but you'd want to strangle if you had to babysit.)
thankfully we made our way back to the mainland without maiming any turtles (or children) and headed to the bathroom. post-loo, we ran into some little kids fishing. we come to find out that fishing is FREE too. turns out the park will give you lures and corn (?) as bait for an afternoon of "catch and release" fishing. early-on, we realized the allure of fishing (HAHA - get it?) was not so grand. neither of us wanted to touch any fish we caught, and the danger of a turtle attacking our lures just added to our stress. those suckers are MEAN. so here we are camped out on the steps of the pond, two 25 year-olds too afraid to even fathom having to grasp a slimy, googly-eyed fish. BLAH. the object of the game then became to avoid catching ANYTHING. for the fish that wasn't too hard. counter to the "expert" advice of the parks department, fish don't actually like corn. you could hit the fish over the head with a kernel and they wouldn't bite. (i tried a few times.) the turtles though, those suckers have corn on the brain. the second meg put her lure in the water, a giant turtle surfaced and tried to attack her bait. after a good 15 minutes of anti-fish fishing, we thought it best to leave it to the 7 year olds and their parents. we weren't fooling anyone that we were being hipster "ironic" by taking up elderly activities. we turned in our lures and headed to the santeria shop.
my interest in the practice mainly lies in the sublime song. the song was the ringtone on my first cell and will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between "the general" by dispatch and "crazy game of poker" by O.A.R. these songs symbolize my first taste of independence, doused in smirnoff and natty light. in terms of a spiritual following though, i'm a total gringa and don't know the slightest thing about santeria. but why not? with no church and no true spiritual beliefs, the least i can do is check out what else is out there. plus candles and nice smelling things are always a plus. so we moseyed on down to the santeria store in spa-ha (ahem - spanish harlem) from the park. on the way, we passed a lively street fair that turned out to be a giant ruse to get people HIV tested.
the folks at the fair were so nice that we couldn't say no to the test. fishing, santeria, pancakes - why not round out the day with a sexual health exam? all it involved was a cheek swab and a list of somewhat vague questions, "have you been to the doctor in the past 2 years? if so, how many times?" we both had been tested before - i think doctors dole those out with almost the same frequency as pregnancy tests for the common cold at the university health center - so it was more of a courtesy to the nice folks running the place rather than any sort of fact-finding mission.
after our mobile health test, we moved on to the santeria store. once inside, we learned about natural african sponges and bath incense meant for "money growth". these things will probably serve me well somewhere down the line, but true hunger took the place of spiritual hunger, and we made a beeline for a nearby mexican restaurant. post tacos, we parted ways, and i headed to 500 days of summer (a movie). i won't ruin it for any other fans of the indie faux-love story, but all i have to say is that there's no way better way to round out a solid afternoon with a solid movie with a killer soundtrack.
so here i am sitting in my apt, a little burnt, a little sweaty, but more than a little content. i know i'm in danger of a breach of confidentiality with this statement, but the only thing negative about my day was my HIV test.
the day started with banana pancakes. it should be stated that i really don't like pancakes in general, but banana ones are pretty awesome. bananas are the only fruit i'll tolerate in anything beyond pie. meg was cooking - which is important to this story only in that i completely forgot she moved this week. here i am goofing around at my apt cleaning up and doing random chores for a few hours, when i really should have been moving my ass to harlem. luckily i realized this just as i left my building, but nonetheless going to brunch in the wrong borough is usually not the makings of a great day.
despite any geographical snafus, the weather was amazing and i really didn't care about the extra trek. plus there were fresh blueberries waiting for me when i got there, making up for my lack of planning. after pancakes the decision was made to go to central park. in the 3 years i've lived here i can count the number of times i've been to the park on one hand. one was a borderline-scary first date where i feared i would be chopped up into little bits, scattered on the great lawn. this has since left me a wee bit fearful of the park in general. today though, i saw the place with fresh eyes. maybe it was because we entered at the northern-most point. maybe it was because it was daylight and i had no suspicions that i may end up as the season opener of 48-hours. whatever the reason i was damn happy to be there.
when we got to the park, we saw a sign for canoeing. not just canoeing, but FREE canoeing. we jumped in line next to a bunch of little kids, soon finding ourselves in the middle of the pond in the nexus of the park. surrounded by greenery and gorgeous architecture, we barely noticed the surplus of algae building up on the corners of our boat. i've left out the racial profiling the park rangers did on us: assuming we had canoed before because we were white. but that's a minute complaint compared to the tiny turtle that hung out next to the boat and the little kid who stopped to tell us about the GIANT snapping turtle that he caught with his lure. (he was probably 5 with a lisp and an insanely loud voice. one of those boys who is great to talk to for a few minutes, but you'd want to strangle if you had to babysit.)
thankfully we made our way back to the mainland without maiming any turtles (or children) and headed to the bathroom. post-loo, we ran into some little kids fishing. we come to find out that fishing is FREE too. turns out the park will give you lures and corn (?) as bait for an afternoon of "catch and release" fishing. early-on, we realized the allure of fishing (HAHA - get it?) was not so grand. neither of us wanted to touch any fish we caught, and the danger of a turtle attacking our lures just added to our stress. those suckers are MEAN. so here we are camped out on the steps of the pond, two 25 year-olds too afraid to even fathom having to grasp a slimy, googly-eyed fish. BLAH. the object of the game then became to avoid catching ANYTHING. for the fish that wasn't too hard. counter to the "expert" advice of the parks department, fish don't actually like corn. you could hit the fish over the head with a kernel and they wouldn't bite. (i tried a few times.) the turtles though, those suckers have corn on the brain. the second meg put her lure in the water, a giant turtle surfaced and tried to attack her bait. after a good 15 minutes of anti-fish fishing, we thought it best to leave it to the 7 year olds and their parents. we weren't fooling anyone that we were being hipster "ironic" by taking up elderly activities. we turned in our lures and headed to the santeria shop.
my interest in the practice mainly lies in the sublime song. the song was the ringtone on my first cell and will always hold a special place in my heart, somewhere between "the general" by dispatch and "crazy game of poker" by O.A.R. these songs symbolize my first taste of independence, doused in smirnoff and natty light. in terms of a spiritual following though, i'm a total gringa and don't know the slightest thing about santeria. but why not? with no church and no true spiritual beliefs, the least i can do is check out what else is out there. plus candles and nice smelling things are always a plus. so we moseyed on down to the santeria store in spa-ha (ahem - spanish harlem) from the park. on the way, we passed a lively street fair that turned out to be a giant ruse to get people HIV tested.
the folks at the fair were so nice that we couldn't say no to the test. fishing, santeria, pancakes - why not round out the day with a sexual health exam? all it involved was a cheek swab and a list of somewhat vague questions, "have you been to the doctor in the past 2 years? if so, how many times?" we both had been tested before - i think doctors dole those out with almost the same frequency as pregnancy tests for the common cold at the university health center - so it was more of a courtesy to the nice folks running the place rather than any sort of fact-finding mission.
after our mobile health test, we moved on to the santeria store. once inside, we learned about natural african sponges and bath incense meant for "money growth". these things will probably serve me well somewhere down the line, but true hunger took the place of spiritual hunger, and we made a beeline for a nearby mexican restaurant. post tacos, we parted ways, and i headed to 500 days of summer (a movie). i won't ruin it for any other fans of the indie faux-love story, but all i have to say is that there's no way better way to round out a solid afternoon with a solid movie with a killer soundtrack.
so here i am sitting in my apt, a little burnt, a little sweaty, but more than a little content. i know i'm in danger of a breach of confidentiality with this statement, but the only thing negative about my day was my HIV test.
Monday, July 13, 2009
13 going on...
on my walk home this evening, i made the comment to one of my friends that her 13 year-old self and her 30 year-old self sound exactly the same. it got me to thinking...what was my 13 year-old self like?
and have i really changed all that much? 13 year-old jeni was tall and gangly, not unlike my physique now though i think when you're gangly as an adult you become pathetic and awkward. but lets do a quick assessment of where i was when i was 13, compared to now:
13 year old
- watched TV like it's my job
- daily uniform: t-shirt, jeans, converse
- lots of friends who are boys, no boyfriend
- covertly listened to top-40 pop music and read angsty pre-teen novels
- fought with my sister over the remote every night
25 year old
- watching tv is part of my job
- daily uniform (outside of work): t-shirt, jeans, converse, and messenger bag
- single
- thanks to facebook, not so covertly listen to top-40 pop music. still unwilling to buy the twilight series on my own - in the process of mooching copies off of friends
- still fight with my sister over the remote every night - now the fight includes wrestling over DVRed shows
hmm...maybe i should give myself a few years on here before i start judging myself.
and have i really changed all that much? 13 year-old jeni was tall and gangly, not unlike my physique now though i think when you're gangly as an adult you become pathetic and awkward. but lets do a quick assessment of where i was when i was 13, compared to now:
13 year old
- watched TV like it's my job
- daily uniform: t-shirt, jeans, converse
- lots of friends who are boys, no boyfriend
- covertly listened to top-40 pop music and read angsty pre-teen novels
- fought with my sister over the remote every night
25 year old
- watching tv is part of my job
- daily uniform (outside of work): t-shirt, jeans, converse, and messenger bag
- single
- thanks to facebook, not so covertly listen to top-40 pop music. still unwilling to buy the twilight series on my own - in the process of mooching copies off of friends
- still fight with my sister over the remote every night - now the fight includes wrestling over DVRed shows
hmm...maybe i should give myself a few years on here before i start judging myself.
a thousand words
i just found my camera. its been missing since december. i searched high and low for that damn thing. where was it? in my brown "adult" purse that i never use. it was the strangest thing. i was sitting on my bed, on the phone, and just started staring at that thing. i KNEW my camera was in there. how i didn't figure that out a few months ago is pathetically beyond me. i am an idiot. absolutely ecstatic that i found it but seriously WTF. this is how gaping holes of college and my youth have emerged. let's hope that i improve on this, otherwise my children will think i'm negligent.
be on the lookout for choice pics from my thanksgiving trip. yup it's been THAT long. pathetic.
be on the lookout for choice pics from my thanksgiving trip. yup it's been THAT long. pathetic.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
sumo surfing
today there was a 350 lb man sitting outside my apt building. his weight wasn't of note, except for the fact that he had the tiniest laptop i have ever seen in my life. it was like the scene in zoolander where derek has the tiny phone, "god, is that you?"queens is one of those places where nothing fits quite right.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
amer-i-can
i have returned from a trip to the motherland. i can no longer call it "home"; the word is now reserved for my east coast post-college life. i spent the last week in chicago/madison/milwaukee/wausau visiting relatives, being force-fed endless amounts of food, and sleeping.
a few highlights from the trip:
- 99.1's "top 99 from the 90's". a chicago radio station with what seems to be the strongest signal known to the fm airwaves decided to celebrate the 4th with a listener-ranked top hits from the last decade. i don't know how i feel about "mmmm bop" beating out the likes of "motown philly" and any song from the gin blossoms for #1 but it was still a solid road mix. plus if you missed out on any part of the countdown, 99.1 repeated the countdown ALL weekend. sort of takes the sting away from meg forgetting her iPod before even leaving NY.
- sultans. if you've ever gotten a falafel in chicago, this is where it should be from. if you haven't, your life is just that much worse. andrew promised us we'd "eat like princes" on our journey there and we did. twice. it doesn't hurt that the dirty hippies serving the food are so attractive that they make you forget that they are serving food in clothes that probably haven't been washed in weeks.
- ping pong. our friday night was planned to be spent by a night out on the town. one ping pong-challenge later, we ended up spending our evening in a round-robin tournament for the king (or queen) of the basement. think of your favorite nights in hs, sneaking beers and goofing off in your friends' basement while her parents are at the opera. luckily this time, no one had to flee from the house with an armful of empties and a half-consumed bottle of malibu.
- american flag apparel. milwaukee had a lot of it, and we found it. the best by far was the girl in the flag tube top. her chest was too large to keep all of the stars in full view.
- karaoke: not the kind where someone stands up by themselves like a drunken fool mumbling through a song solo. this is the dance circle, full-on belting out sing-a-long. choice favorites included "mr. jones" and "king of wishful thinking" (such a forgotten goodie).
- jello salad. ingredients are pineapple, cottage cheese, cool whip, and jello flavoring. it's whipped straight from heaven - especially for the under 12 crowd, or any of my friends from college.
- scooters. ordinarily i would give a snide, 'boys and their toys,' but i want one. definitely an upgrade from my schwinn cruiser.
i love my friends.
a few highlights from the trip:
- 99.1's "top 99 from the 90's". a chicago radio station with what seems to be the strongest signal known to the fm airwaves decided to celebrate the 4th with a listener-ranked top hits from the last decade. i don't know how i feel about "mmmm bop" beating out the likes of "motown philly" and any song from the gin blossoms for #1 but it was still a solid road mix. plus if you missed out on any part of the countdown, 99.1 repeated the countdown ALL weekend. sort of takes the sting away from meg forgetting her iPod before even leaving NY.
- sultans. if you've ever gotten a falafel in chicago, this is where it should be from. if you haven't, your life is just that much worse. andrew promised us we'd "eat like princes" on our journey there and we did. twice. it doesn't hurt that the dirty hippies serving the food are so attractive that they make you forget that they are serving food in clothes that probably haven't been washed in weeks.
- ping pong. our friday night was planned to be spent by a night out on the town. one ping pong-challenge later, we ended up spending our evening in a round-robin tournament for the king (or queen) of the basement. think of your favorite nights in hs, sneaking beers and goofing off in your friends' basement while her parents are at the opera. luckily this time, no one had to flee from the house with an armful of empties and a half-consumed bottle of malibu.
- american flag apparel. milwaukee had a lot of it, and we found it. the best by far was the girl in the flag tube top. her chest was too large to keep all of the stars in full view.
- karaoke: not the kind where someone stands up by themselves like a drunken fool mumbling through a song solo. this is the dance circle, full-on belting out sing-a-long. choice favorites included "mr. jones" and "king of wishful thinking" (such a forgotten goodie).
- jello salad. ingredients are pineapple, cottage cheese, cool whip, and jello flavoring. it's whipped straight from heaven - especially for the under 12 crowd, or any of my friends from college.
- scooters. ordinarily i would give a snide, 'boys and their toys,' but i want one. definitely an upgrade from my schwinn cruiser.
i love my friends.
Monday, June 15, 2009
don't wanna miss a thing
it's 1am and i can't sleep. i've been napping all day like the 6th member of golden girls (i hope a reference is not in bad taste since bea arthur has recently passed). the cause of this insomnia (and catnaps) is due to my stomach. it's killing me. not like rip it out of me i need to go to the ER, but a more subtle i'm going to make your life miserable so you can't relax sort of way. and so i'm here at 1am on a sunday. trying desperately to go to sleep. to aid in this, i'm blogging and watching "space cowboys" on free demand. it's my new favorite movie to fall asleep to. disaster movies are the best for this task. the plotlines are easy to follow, there's no real danger that will scare me into staying awake, plus they're relatively short. a movie about a bunch of elderly dudes who save the world seems to do the trick. it's no armageddon, but that's why it's on demand for free. ben affleck and bruce willis are still of the caliber that warrants pay-per-view. clint eastwood has a billion movies that are better, so i think cinemax is willing to toss the public a bone with his attempt at becoming "relevant" once again by bridging NSYNC and their "inspired" theme song ("space cowboys" - duh) with james cromwell, tommy lee jones, donald sutherland, and james gardner.
please guys, help me catch a few good hours of sleep. i promise i'll watch "babe" and "the notebook" whenever they come on demand too.
please guys, help me catch a few good hours of sleep. i promise i'll watch "babe" and "the notebook" whenever they come on demand too.
Monday, June 1, 2009
why my mom loves tina turner
1) she's got a killer body. we all know that. i knew that when i was 12 and saw my mom's cassette tapes. there's something about a woman in fishnets and giant heels that is commanding - even when you're pre-pubescent. you have no idea what sex appeal means, or who the hell ike was, or what "love" has to do with ANYTHING, but whatever she has, you know it's different. it's sort of like the realization that you make when you're an adult (or teenager) that your "crazy" relative or family friend is actually a drunk.
2) music in adulthood is never as good as it was when you were a teenager. for my mom that means that michael bolton and tina turner are good, but never as great as those folk heroes that she grew up with. her and her sisters gather every christmas and harmonize to old favorites as my aunt strums her guitar.
for me, i don't think i had the good fortune of growing up in a time when truly great music was made (just check out the billboard top 100 from the mid-80's) but to me, music is 80% emotion, 20% greatness. growing up in a household where my dad managed rock bands, i certainly hold a great place in my heart to meatloaf (i knew all 3 parts to "paradise by the dashboard light" far before i could do long division). if i had heard that song for the first time today at a bar, i'd think it was absolute crap. i mean, that's a lyrically challenging - and equally terrible - song. but it will forever remind me of all the summers of my childhood that i spent traveling with his band. and that's completely different.
take most any boyband song from the early 90's. N'SYNC, backstreet boys, hell - even 5ive (AHEM - "baby when the lights go out") - and i love it. not because my heart swooned over lance bass or that kid howie with the creepy chinstrap beard, but because i think of all the car trips i took with my sister where we sang those songs at the top of our lungs. the lesser known "drive myself crazy" was a staple, mostly because we could sing the high part along with the bug-eyed dreaded dude, chris. "bye bye bye" and "baby hit me one more time" was an all-time classic staff water ballet routine at seminole pool. we each had a part, and we sure as hell weren't letting a few bug bites stop us from getting those steps right after hours. any britney song from "oops" should be played while wearing a pleather skirt and glittery top, as per how we drove to milwaukee and caught her show on a tuesday night with a handful of friends - without any parents. (i still cannot believe my mom okayed that.) even edwin "i'll be" mccain conjures up memories of driving through the mountains spring break senior year as my best friend reflected on her relationship.
high school also had the requisite "DMB" phase - the roadtrip to see dave one last time before impending "adulthood" in ohio, the mixes with zeppelin, and "tiny dancer" on our way to senior skip day. every white kid in the midwest has a marley phase (for me, i also had a bob marley poster freshman year of college that i almost dared my mom to rip off the wall while it was clinging to its poster putty).
now i'm only 3 years out of college and i'm already my mom. i have NO idea what the kids are listening these days. i'm forced to be the lame one in my group of teacher friends who have to explain the "superman" and "soldier boy" dances are. i sort of know the popular jonas bros' song ("burning up") and follow a fair amount of new bands thanks to my trendy friends, their musical ventures, and the latest and greatest that yahoo music has to offer, but no matter how hard i try i don't think any of it will ever erase my love for some of the old standbys. or increase my ability to once again regain any shred of "coolness" i once had. (or think i did.)
it's certainly not because the music was better, or that my taste has waned in my old(er) age, it's because it doesn't evoke nearly any of the same emotions. ben harper's "roses from my friends" can easily draw parallels to an adult breakup or falling out with a friend. sure i go through heartache and rough patches in friendships now, but i have ice cream and lifetime movies, and booze to fill that void. i can ride the subway aimlessly for hours, wander the town, do a billion different things to try to clear my head. if i'm feeling particularly proactive i can even exercise. as a teenager, all you're left with is your solitude and music to fill your sorrows and angst. my junior year of high school i think i listened to ben harper's "burn to shine" so much that i had to "re-burn" a copy from one of my friends. (making homemade cds was at the forefront of technology at the time.)
sure i love a handful of recently introduced-to-me-bands to the same degree, if not more than the classic songs of my childhood. at least musically or lyrically. but i really can't think of "mardy bum" in the same light as "wonderwall". i will love dave matthews no matter how many albums he puts out like "american baby". justin timberlake can become as big of a tool as he wants to, and i'll still have a soft spot for "it's gonna be me." really zeppelin can never do any wrong, and i think i'd be a fool to think that i'm the only one in the world who thinks that...actually - i take that back. robert plant collaborating with p. diddy (or 'puff daddy' at the time) for the godzilla song may have been literally "wrong". it was certainly against a few laws of nature and against most of the better judgement of anyone who believes VH1 should have maintained its integrity as a music channel pre-celebreality.
what i'm trying to say is simple. music can come and go, but the nostalgia will always be there. like my favorite cliche dave says, "it's not where you are but who you're with that really matters"
whether i'm 14 or 40, somehow i think part of me will always think that's true.
2) music in adulthood is never as good as it was when you were a teenager. for my mom that means that michael bolton and tina turner are good, but never as great as those folk heroes that she grew up with. her and her sisters gather every christmas and harmonize to old favorites as my aunt strums her guitar.
for me, i don't think i had the good fortune of growing up in a time when truly great music was made (just check out the billboard top 100 from the mid-80's) but to me, music is 80% emotion, 20% greatness. growing up in a household where my dad managed rock bands, i certainly hold a great place in my heart to meatloaf (i knew all 3 parts to "paradise by the dashboard light" far before i could do long division). if i had heard that song for the first time today at a bar, i'd think it was absolute crap. i mean, that's a lyrically challenging - and equally terrible - song. but it will forever remind me of all the summers of my childhood that i spent traveling with his band. and that's completely different.
take most any boyband song from the early 90's. N'SYNC, backstreet boys, hell - even 5ive (AHEM - "baby when the lights go out") - and i love it. not because my heart swooned over lance bass or that kid howie with the creepy chinstrap beard, but because i think of all the car trips i took with my sister where we sang those songs at the top of our lungs. the lesser known "drive myself crazy" was a staple, mostly because we could sing the high part along with the bug-eyed dreaded dude, chris. "bye bye bye" and "baby hit me one more time" was an all-time classic staff water ballet routine at seminole pool. we each had a part, and we sure as hell weren't letting a few bug bites stop us from getting those steps right after hours. any britney song from "oops" should be played while wearing a pleather skirt and glittery top, as per how we drove to milwaukee and caught her show on a tuesday night with a handful of friends - without any parents. (i still cannot believe my mom okayed that.) even edwin "i'll be" mccain conjures up memories of driving through the mountains spring break senior year as my best friend reflected on her relationship.
high school also had the requisite "DMB" phase - the roadtrip to see dave one last time before impending "adulthood" in ohio, the mixes with zeppelin, and "tiny dancer" on our way to senior skip day. every white kid in the midwest has a marley phase (for me, i also had a bob marley poster freshman year of college that i almost dared my mom to rip off the wall while it was clinging to its poster putty).
now i'm only 3 years out of college and i'm already my mom. i have NO idea what the kids are listening these days. i'm forced to be the lame one in my group of teacher friends who have to explain the "superman" and "soldier boy" dances are. i sort of know the popular jonas bros' song ("burning up") and follow a fair amount of new bands thanks to my trendy friends, their musical ventures, and the latest and greatest that yahoo music has to offer, but no matter how hard i try i don't think any of it will ever erase my love for some of the old standbys. or increase my ability to once again regain any shred of "coolness" i once had. (or think i did.)
it's certainly not because the music was better, or that my taste has waned in my old(er) age, it's because it doesn't evoke nearly any of the same emotions. ben harper's "roses from my friends" can easily draw parallels to an adult breakup or falling out with a friend. sure i go through heartache and rough patches in friendships now, but i have ice cream and lifetime movies, and booze to fill that void. i can ride the subway aimlessly for hours, wander the town, do a billion different things to try to clear my head. if i'm feeling particularly proactive i can even exercise. as a teenager, all you're left with is your solitude and music to fill your sorrows and angst. my junior year of high school i think i listened to ben harper's "burn to shine" so much that i had to "re-burn" a copy from one of my friends. (making homemade cds was at the forefront of technology at the time.)
sure i love a handful of recently introduced-to-me-bands to the same degree, if not more than the classic songs of my childhood. at least musically or lyrically. but i really can't think of "mardy bum" in the same light as "wonderwall". i will love dave matthews no matter how many albums he puts out like "american baby". justin timberlake can become as big of a tool as he wants to, and i'll still have a soft spot for "it's gonna be me." really zeppelin can never do any wrong, and i think i'd be a fool to think that i'm the only one in the world who thinks that...actually - i take that back. robert plant collaborating with p. diddy (or 'puff daddy' at the time) for the godzilla song may have been literally "wrong". it was certainly against a few laws of nature and against most of the better judgement of anyone who believes VH1 should have maintained its integrity as a music channel pre-celebreality.
what i'm trying to say is simple. music can come and go, but the nostalgia will always be there. like my favorite cliche dave says, "it's not where you are but who you're with that really matters"
whether i'm 14 or 40, somehow i think part of me will always think that's true.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
patience is a virtue
there's probably some sort of irony in publishing this, as the immediacy of posting it completely defeats the point i'm trying to make. but my overarching thesis is that i'm a work in progress, so i guess i'll claim it as a draw thus far - at least until the proverbial jury returns the verdict.
for me, it's not about my "soulmate". it's about avoiding that sense of rush. i feel like i've been in a rush for the past year or so and i'm finally realizing that there's no point. right now i'm a few months shy of 25. i'm hoping by the time i hit my quarter-century mark the rush will have waned. that doesn't mean i'm quitting my job or moving to some obscure island and writing my memoirs. i just need to approach my life, my friendships, and my choices with the knowledge that today isn't the end-all-be-all. obviously the first step is admitting it. now it's just a matter of accepting it.
i graduated college no more than 3 years ago. actually almost exactly 3 years ago. at the time, i had a skill for being ridiculously patient. it was certainly a learned skill - as a child i was bursting full of energy and unable to keep my mouth shut - and it was a hard-earned skill. one that i was proud of and used it to my advantage when plotting my move to ny and the subsequent job search that got me to where i'm at today.
my other learned skill was my ability to listen. as a myers-briggs (and self-) identified "introvert" i considered it one of my greatest assets that i could spent days at a time without having to mention a single word about how something related to me or my life. if i did say something, it was after careful deliberation and what i would like to consider a very objective perspective. believe it or not, i won a leadership award in college, one that i wholeheartedly believe came from my ability to listen. it wasn't just that i was able to hear people, it was that i was able to focus my whole being on whatever was being said. i could tune out everything else - or listen to everything else but retain every fact, figure, or statement that was divulged.
i made it a rule of thumb to never multitask when other's were speaking to me. on the phone, at school, work, the only multitasking i tried to consciously do was to walk and talk at the same time. other than that, i considered it a poor reflection on myself.
maybe it's adulthood, maybe it's the crackberry age, maybe it's that my morals have been diluted since moving here, but i've lost that ability to be so patient. i try to continue to be a good listener - though i unfortunately have picked up a mad case of multitasking. i can't say the multitasking can change, but i need to refocus my priorities.
i once did an icebreaker exercise where we were asked to write down the answers to 5 questions. the "takeaway" was that if a person writes down everything they need to say, they will listen better to others. lately as my listening abilities have been eroded with a mess of multitasking, i've tried to remember that exercise the best i can.
the heart of the mission is to regain my patience. i don't just mean avoiding anger when a tourist cannot swipe their metrocard fast enough. i mean in that i don't let things play out how i used to. my laid back self has turned into a control freak. i have turned into my (lovely but neurotic) mother and worry about everything. i don't let the chips fall where they may. in 3 short years, i have effectively become the hyperactive soul i swore i would never become.
don't get me wrong, i don't consider my soul wholeheartedly ruined. it least not with any irreparable damage. i just have come to realize lately that i need to take a step back. i think that it's effectively called a quarter-life crisis when this happens, but i'd like to consider it a re-evaluation. a re-assessment of priorities and choices, and most of all i need to re-establish my ability for patience.
in the season finale of the office, michael is asked about why he didn't make a move on his "soulmate" holly:
'I didn't find the perfect moment because I think today is about just having today. And I think we're one of those couples who'll have a long story when people ask how we found each other. I will see her every now and then, and maybe one year she'll be with somebody and the next year I'll be with somebody and it's gonna take a long time... And then it's perfect. I'm in no rush.'
for me, it's not about my "soulmate". it's about avoiding that sense of rush. i feel like i've been in a rush for the past year or so and i'm finally realizing that there's no point. right now i'm a few months shy of 25. i'm hoping by the time i hit my quarter-century mark the rush will have waned. that doesn't mean i'm quitting my job or moving to some obscure island and writing my memoirs. i just need to approach my life, my friendships, and my choices with the knowledge that today isn't the end-all-be-all. obviously the first step is admitting it. now it's just a matter of accepting it.
Friday, May 1, 2009
law and order
i don't own many movies because i rarely watch movies multiple times. especially without a friend prompting me to. as a kid i watched pippi longstocking and wizard of oz so much that my mom still can quote those movies from beginning to end. 20 years later, i don't share the same affinity to watch the movies over and over, but i have a serious problem when it comes to law and order. i can literally watch that show for days. it's been that way since i was a kid and i can't explain it. that show is like a drug. i know it affects millions of others in this way, and is a similar epidemic to diet coke addiction as a new wave "illness". still i really don't understand it. dc involves chemicals coursing through one's body. but law and order? wtf? it doesn't have continuing storylines - half of them are reincarnations of each other - but i still watch it incessantly. i really think it's starting to hinder my ability to watch other tv shows. there are literally 10 shows that i want to pick up. instead of spending my viewing hours on those, i will hunker down for a l&o marathon - AND dvr episodes to watch when "nothing is on". am i crazy? "nothing is on"? i have 500+ channels. i am officially pathetic. i really should be concerned as to why reading isn't higher of a priority for me. or exercise for that matter.
Monday, February 2, 2009
quarantined
i am 24 years and 6 months old. i have a full-time job, my own health insurance, pay the gas bill every month. i own 3 business suits, can legally purchase alcohol, and today i woke up with conjunctivitis. aka pinkeye. there's nothing more embarrassing than having to call out for work because you have the most common ailment on the playground. i called my mom to tell her; she laughed and reminded me not to rub my eyes. no shit, mom. thanks for the advice. i'd find it funny too if i didn't look like i've been marathon hot boxing with cheech and chong. my eyes were so painful and swollen that i couldn't even watch trashy tv today. the one good thing about being home from school/work is the movies/soaps without the constraints of bedtime. today i had to settle for listening to 'ellen' while under a warm compress. thanks to the wonders of modern medicine i am now finally able to connect with the world and catch a csi marathon or two. but it's just not the same.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
25 things
back in the old days, a friend would send a chain email with a list of 25 things to fill out about yourself: favorite colors, scariest moment, blah, blah, blah. usually none of the questions were particularly probing, but somehow they were always much more fun to fill out than doing trig homework or writing a research paper. now most things email related are old school - it's all about going "viral" and doing things via social networking. thus these lists have made their way onto facebook.
i resisted these lists at first, much like i initially did with facebook itself, but last night gave in and filled it out. i assume most people spend a fair amount of time writing these lists, stewing about how certain elements of the list will portray their personalities. i chose the first 25 things that came to my mind that i felt didn't elicit any sort of strong emotional response from anyone who's reading it. why? isn't that the point? not really. and i think sometimes people forget that.
facebook shouldn't replace friendships with close pals. it's about keeping track of people, having a place to connect on a social level, and about having a marketplace for information and an easy way to share it. i don't want everyone i went to high school with, plus 1/2 of my coworkers knowing my deepest, darkest secrets. i understand that some people use it as an outlet to share that information, but that's not me at all. and it frightens me that some people use it as a tool to bare their souls. even on this blog i'm careful to make sure nothing posted goes beyond anything i would say to someone's face, or have to answer to on a job interview. it's not a journal - it's a way for me to post stories that i think are appropriate for the general public to know. granted i probably have bared more than the usual person with some of my stories, but there's nothing in here that i wouldn't tell my grandma. (seriously, that's my barometer for posting.) i guess that puts me as a part of the paranoid generation who is not ok with having their whole lives posted on the internet. but some things should be kept personal. knowing more about a person is earned through honest connection: face-to-face or on a one-to-one level. not a status message. once again i suppose i'm climbing high on my soapbox, but i really hope this social networking trend fades out soon. i enjoy facebook as much as the next person, but when are people going to want to go back to coffee hangouts?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
cracked out
i've officially entered the world of crackberries. it was a long process to come to this point. i've always liked tech toys - i had a palm pilot back in the day - but i could never bring myself to admit that i needed a full-fledged electronic phone/email/organizer to make my life easier. until now. i used to make fun of the people on the subway typing away at their teeny keyboards. i have now joined the cult. at least it was on my own terms - and i didn't have to go down kicking and screaming. i've been asked more than once why i didn't get an iPhone. the truth is, i don't trust myself with it. all i would do is sit around and play with it. with the bberry there are limitations to the fun. i know myself too well and know i need boundaries. and a little bit of guidance to throw myself into maturity. the last thing i need is another toy to distract me from sleep.
kendra: the worst media buyer in the world
the economy is tight, people on madison are losing their jobs left and right. yet one brilliant media buyer decided she should post her lack of integrity on the job in the Auseillo files. it's a section on ew.com where people can write in questions:
Question: I am a Media Buyer and, as God as my witness, Friday Night Lights will be renewed again. I am recruiting the buyers in my office to watch and purchase it. Best show on TV - Kendra.
Ausiello: Fight the heck on, Kendra. Don't miss tonight's penultimate season 3 ep, which features (skip to the last sentence of this answer, no DirecTV subscribers!) the long-awaited Tyra/Landry reunion, as well as a nail-biter of a state championship game. Programming note: FNL's NBC run kicks off on Friday, Jan 16.
1) that's not a question.
2) what an idiot.
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