because it’s monday after a long weekend

and i know today might suck for you. hell, it may suck for me. therefore, i offer you the following two new southeast baltimore neighborhood watch reports:
(once again, i took the liberty of headlining them.)

Aggravated Assault:

‘Don’t make me send my baby mama after you.’
A woman told police that she had been sitting on some steps when a man approached her and insulted her. She and he got into an argument and the man told the woman he was going to have his “baby mama” come and beat her up. Shortly thereafter, an unknown female suspect arrived and sprayed the woman in the face with mace.

(haha. i’m sorry, i know this involves someone being sprayed in the face w/mace, but that is so damn funny.)

Robbery:

‘I was drunk and just being stupid.’
One man told police that a suspect, who was standing nearby, had robbed him of a bag of food, and sprayed him with pepper spray. Police approached the suspect and found him to be in possession of pepper spray and the bag of food. When questioned why he had robbed the man, the suspect replied “I am drunk and was just being stupid.” He was arrested.

haha. oh, baltimore. you used to make me cry, but now i can’t stop laughing. (ok, maybe i still cry now and then–esp. when unknown, probably rabid animals somehow get in our walls in the winter and i’m home alone b/c holly’s in class.) i mean, hell, if i didn’t laugh, i’d probably be scrunched up in a ball rocking back and forth in a corner somewhere sucking my thumb.

we went to pee-ay over the holiday wkend. i’m sure i’ll have things to say. in the meantime, i need to drink five cups of coffee and wrap my mind around it not being the weekend anymore. hope you had an awesome 4th! ttys

news from the hood

usually i’m kind of reluctant to read community crime reports b/c, well, i may not leave the house ever again. so how surprised was i when i read a local crime blotter [in a paper i usually toss out in the trash (i cringe saying this as i used to be a community reporter! but oh well)] and wound up laughing my ass off??

in the spirit of tuesday, which can sometimes suck as it directly follows The Very Suckiest Day (monday), i offer you the best of charm city’s aggravated assault: (i’ve taken the liberty of adding headlines)

‘Give me the airbed, or I will kill you.’
A woman told police that her husband, who was intoxicated, had threatened her with a knife, saying, “If you don’t give me the air bed, I will kill you.” He was arrested, during which time he spat on the police officer and verbally threatened the officer’s life while using racial slurs.

classic baltimore. guess that air mattress is pretty important. also probably not the best idea to shout racial slurs at cops. and threaten their lives. but hell, what do i know.
next!

And you think you get jealous?
A man told police that he had received a call from his girlfriend, who told him to come outside. He did, and she threatened to kill him, then threw a steak knife at him but missed. She then threw a hammer, which hit him. She was arrested a short time later. The man told police that the woman was jealous, and that if he did not call her regularly, she became angry.

day-um.
next!

‘Take that, b*tch!’
A woman told police that she and her boyfriend were driving in her car when he attempted to drink some vodka. She pulled the bottle away, and in retaliation, the man poured a half-gallon bottle of iced tea onto her head and body. She asked him to stop the car and he refused, and then, when the car slowed, she jumped out. A warrant was issued for his arrest.

he poured a half-gallon bottle of iced tea on her head? probably the really really sweet kind, too. from, like, royal farms or something. probably pretty sticky. glad that wasn’t me. did anyone else notice two of the three items involve alcohol? more reasons not to drink.

there’s also another one about a man sitting on a bench, and a group of “juvenille suspects”  throwing a raw potato at him and then pulling a knife.

and these, as mr. rogers said, are the people in my neighborhood.

here’s why you don’t set off firecrackers in baltimore

’cause, friggin a,  they sound like gunshots.

late june/early july in “charm city” (haha; that’s almost as good as “baltimore: the city that reads”) always stresses me the hell out. it’s like HIT THE DECK every five minutes in our neighborhood. at least after the sun goes down. i swear, even the rumblings of our fridge ice machine set me off these days. is it wrong to say i miss suburban new jersey right now?? 

tell me: where’s the pleasure in setting off firecrackers? (holly, don’t answer this. she would gladly set them off every single night if she had her way.) ok, lighting a bunch and throwing them at the damn ice cream truck with the little girl voice that, after a brief silence, pops up in the middle of whatever it’s playing (damn truck started w/christmas music once spring set in: wtf?) at who-knows-what-decibel and says: HELLO?! would be fun. i’ll admit that. that would be fun. (shorty: you lived in our hood. you know the truck. total shoutout to you right now, btw. hearts.)

i’m already jumpy, what, with the helicopters and searchlights all the time (this is a baltimore thing, and isn’t confined to just our neighborhood, so if you’re a friend that hasn’t visited us yet but wants to, pls don’t be scared). but now it sounds like there’s machine guns around, too.

oh, and don’t think it ends july 4th either. oh no. you see, you have to finish off ALL your explosives. so the fun continues for at least a week after the holiday. yeah if you knock on my door and i don’t answer? i’m hiding under the couch. come back in august.

in other news: we went to latinofest last night. “ahh. it’s so nice to finally be with my ppl,” i said to holly.  not that i’m latina, but apparently i pass for it. i pretty much “pass” for what ethnicity is being celebrated at most ethnic festival around the city (save for african-american/native-american). so, yeah: greekfest? sure, i’m greek! (gimme feta!) polish–yeah, that, too. (gimme perogies!) russian? you betcha. (gimme borscht!) (of course my ancestry does help just a little bit on that one, wink wink)

holly really wanted a “latinofest 09″ shirt, which i, of course, found completely adorable (seeing how she’s even less latina than i am). we weren’t finding them anywhere, and we started thinking that maybe they were for workers and volunteers only. she asked this cute guy working the beer stand about it, and he was like, no, sorry. then she joked and was like, can i have yours? and you know what he did? he totally gave her the shirt off his back. (hey germaphobes: he was wearing another t-shirt under it) ppl do that for holly. but the thing is, she’d totally do that for someone, too. (this is one of the many reasons i married her.) he was exceptionally cute, and this created quite a stir. fun.

we got home and watched “vicki cristina barcelona,” which came highly recommended from my favorite food blogger. i must say: i liked it. and don’t ask me how in the hell it happened, but holly fell asleep. and before the very best part! i’m gonna youtube it right here for ya, baby. i’ll slap it on in here for you, too, whoever you are. b/c honestly? sometimes the only way to make a monday better is to watch penelope cruz and scarlett johansson make out in a darkroom. ttys

i know i’ve been quiet lately

 

and i’ve hated it. and one day, i shall tell you all why. but in the meantime, i felt i needed to take to my trusty old blog to pay homage to michael jackson. i’m sure about a trillion other ppl are doing the same thing today, but i don’t care. i am heartbroken over it. i never thought about this happening, and suddenly, it has. and i think most of us affected by the news never really thought about michael jackson…dying. be he did. and here’s what i have to say about it:

when i was three or four years old, i forget when, exactly, but my dad brought me to a record store in the short hills mall, i think, in north jersey. and i bought my very first 45 (that a 45 record single for all you kiddies out there, before casette/cd singles and way before itunes): “beat it.” i swear, i listened the hell out of that record. i would fall to the floor, probably in full view of my parents, or maybe i hid?, i have no idea, but i’d play air guitar during the electric guitar solo, leaning back like i was limbo-ing (just as i would at bar and bat mitzvahs a decade later)…i’d have goosebumps. i loved that song. i loved him. it was inexplicable and it was raw and mysterious, but i loved him so.

i found a red vest covered with zippers and had my parents buy it for me. i rode my red bmx ride around the neighborhood and my driveway, hoping just hoping, someone would tell me i looked like michael jackson. or at least think i was him. (me, the little white girl in new jersey) when my neighbor finally said that i looked just like him, i was elated.

i bought a michael jackson hologram sticker. and not knowing anything about holograms–perhaps they were still new-ish in the 80s? or perhaps i was just a hopelessly clueless kid who couldn’t tell time til she was in third grade. yes, true. sadly–i put it on my window across from my bed. of course no light ever hit it like it was supposed to, but i could see the shadow of his curly hair. there was a rainbow arching behind him, i remember. and he looked so kind in my little-kid eyes. i truly thought he was the very best. (and yes, i tried to moonwalk just like him. but didn’t we all?)

the thriller video scared the beejezus outta me. (still does) and yes, he got weird. (even iwondered about his nose-job, even as a four-year-old, that i guess he got before the thriller album came out?) and we all watched him get weirder. i bought the reissue of thriller last year, and i’ve been throughly enjoying it. listening to it when i need a boost. it’s only lately, what 26 years later??,  that i see his musical genious. “human nature”  (above) is one of my favorite songs *ever*. it is. amazing.

i heard that jackson was rushed to the hospital when i got into my car last night after leaving the office. by the time i got home and crawled into bed (i had a terrible headache), i heard the news: he had died. it’s all i could do not to throw up. i fell asleep watching movies on-demand, trying to put the whole thing out of my head. when i woke up, i knew it wasn’t just a bad dream. watching, disbelieving, his body transported via helicopter, then coroner’s van…i’m shaking my head now. it’s just…sigh. it’s terrible.

what’s even more terrible, in a way, is how it’s all coming outnow is truly how eff’ed up his life may have become. i’ve never been one of those ppl who thinks money can cure anything (tho it can certainly help ease stress, which could, in turn, make you feel a whole helluva lot better, and hence, happier) but his is the perfect example. here’s someone that had all the money, the whole world, at his fingertips. and he just faded away. i mean, he did, but he didn’t. even tho he had this “king of pop” title, he became a whisp of a man. while a lot of ppl made fun of him, i mostly just shook my head, sad, feeling a little ashamed for gawking along with the rest of the world at photos of him.

what i realized as i was driving to work today is this: we don’t think about these iconic-type ppl dying. it’s like they’re larger than life. bigger than life, bigger than death. and when one dies, suddenly, especially, it’s like the rug has been taken out from under us. but they’re not larger than life. they’re not larger than death. in the end, they face mortality just the rest of us. no amount of surgery, money, painkillers or anything else can change that.

this is someone who’s been “with” me my entire life. yours, too, if you’re close to my age (30). you all know how i feelabout madonna. well, while i may not feel the same way about  michael jackson, it’s similar insofar as: he’s always been there. we expect these larger-than-life ppl to be there–until they’re not.

i can’t help think that…well, he seemed to be struggling for so many years. he’s at peace now. my friend john sent me this articlethat really sums it all up. it’s written by a rabbi that was close to jackson–and tried to help him. here’s an excerpt:

In many ways his tragedy was to mistake attention for love. I will never forget what he said when we sat down to record 40 hours of conversations where he would finally reveal himself for a book I authored. He turned to me and said these haunting words: “I am going to say something I have never said before and this is the truth. I have no reason to lie to you and God knows I am telling the truth. I think all my success and fame, and I have wanted it, I have wanted it because I wanted to be loved. That’s all. That’s the real truth. I wanted people to love me, truly love me, because I never really felt loved. I said I know I have an ability. Maybe if I sharpened my craft, maybe people will love me more. I just wanted to be loved because I think it is very important to be loved and to tell people that you love them and to look in their eyes and say it.” One cannot read these words without feeling a tremendous sadness for a soul that was so surrounded with hero-worship but remained so utterly alone. Because Michael substituted attention for love he got fans who loved what he did but he never had true compatriots who loved him for who he was. Perhaps this is why, when so many of his inner circle saw him destroying his life with prescription medication – something he used to treat phantom physical illnesses which were really afflictions of the soul – they allowed him to deteriorate and disintegrate rather than throwing the poison in the garbage.

Michael’s death is not just a personal tragedy, it is an American tragedy. Michael’s story was the stuff of the American dream – a poor black boy who grows up in Gary, Indiana, and ends up a billionaire entertainer. But we now know how the story ends. Money is not a currency by which we can purchase self-esteem and being recognized on the streets will never replace being loved unconditionally by family and true friends.

i can’t stand the fact that we all had to watch him turn into, well, what he became towards what would become the end of his life. and i can’t stand the fact that people in their teens and 20s now will never remember him the way i do. but for me he will always be the gentle soul in the hologram on my childhood window. despite the allegations and the face masks and the painkillers. he’ll always be that cute guy holding the baby tiger on the thriller album. the tough guy battling the zombies. the guy in the zippered leathered jacket telling those crazyass gangbangers to just beat it. michael, i’m sorry your life turned out the way it did. but you gave us all a gift, you gave the world a gift. hopefully you see that now.

my hair was enormous this weekend

me, without my flat iron. (also, apparently without a top.) "it's the humidity!"

there’s no two ways about it. it was simply…gigantic. to the point where i wondered out loud how holly could love me, a girl with such enormous hair. [holly, perhaps the most non-judgemental person i've ever come across in my entire life when it comes to someone's looks, only laughs and shakes her head at this. it's truly only once in a while when she makes a Medusa comment--um, yeah, that's the mythical greek goddess/monster (?) who had curly, scary snake hair (as in: real live snakes; see photo above. most representations of said mythical bad hair lady are scary so i found a kind of hott one). and to be fair, i actually made the first crack to her about it years ago (actually i think my brother made that crack back in the 80s??!), so she was following my lead.]

the size of my hair was due in no small part to the official-non-official start of summer: memorial day. the baltimore/dc area is renowned for its humidity. and the heat starts early here. being new homeowners, we have to get our air conditioning unit checked (i think you have to get it checked every two years? and this is our third summer in our once-crackhouse) and our good ol hvac (heating/ventilation/air-conditioning) company hasn’t called us back yet, so we’re relying on the meager breezes coming thru our rowhouse windows and ceiling fans to cool us down and um, yeah. it’s not working.

so not only did i not straighten my hair this long wkend [why bother? it was just us two and we were doing homeowner/maintenance stuff all weekend. plus that's why *hats* were created and i do love me some hats! (i'm wearing my fave  in my "about jessica" bio pic)] but i sweated to the oldies all wkend long. meaning: i glanced at our digital thermostat numerous times (ok, every time i passed it) and it read, at its highest…. (gulp)….87 degrees. (silence) i know. so i tried covering my huge hair up with bandanas (this, holly as well as the girls in my book club will tell you, only makes me look like i’m in a “latina gang,” of which there are probably at least a couple in our neighborhood. my perpetual frosty lipstick only adds to the effect), did the tried-and-true-big-sunglasses-casually-pushing-big-hair-back move, headbands, even a discarded t-shirt sleeve (we make our own cool punkrock tshirts in our household ) but nothing worked. instead, i guess i sort of embraced its hugeness over the holiday. and i am a stronger person b/c of this. 

while our a-c may not be on at this time, there are loads of ppl in our neighborhood that don’t have a-c at all, which leads to some interesting daytime, and, unfortunately, nighttime, stoop/street activity. (the sort that makes it downright hard to sleep with the windows open at night, which we are doing out of necessity these days) goodness gracious, i don’t even know where to start. it’s all blending together….was the naked old man hanging out his second-floor window this past weekend or some recent weeknight?? (he told us he just got off a spaceship. he’s a drunk, but a nice one. and no, i’m not lying. you can’t make this sh*t up!) i couldn’t even tell you, i don’t even remember. but i’m going to think about it and get back to all of you later.

this is me at acupuncture

pantless and cold, i am waiting for the fast-talking but genuinely nice-seeming chinese dr. to reappear. she came in for our initial chat, told me to take off my pants, said something about my liver (!?) and assured me she’d be right back. i am wincing under the fluorescent glare of the examining room feeling exposed and nervous. i aimlessly tap on my phone (not an iphone, an instinct, just fyi) and read an article on obama and gay rights and then tap out a quick email to nicole:

Omg wtf this is lame! I am stuck pantless in a cold florescent room. The acupuncturist has abandoned me. I hope this gets better.

this was a week ago today. i was there for my headaches. i am getting so many of them lately, they’re destroying any sense of normalcy i have (out two days from work just this week; plus i am lagging behind on the blog entries, which i do not like) and chipping away at my sanity. i’m willing to try anything, even tiny little needles for two hours after work.

aren’t acupuncture offices supposed to be, like, all new-agey and whatnot? i think. soothing music, low-lighting, calm-speaking people? this one, notsomuch. but there is some sort of chinese pan pipe-y music playing in the (also fluorescent) waiting room. i can barely hear it from here. TURN IT UP! i want to shout to the grumpy receptionist from my tiny holding cell. i decide not to yell. this, i feel, would only make things worse.

the acupuncturist finally comes back (it could have been 30 mins, it could have been 15, i lost track of time) and i announce, trying to sound casual and friendly (as if, say, i had pants on), “i was starting to get worried that you weren’t coming back!” that’s jersey-ese for: “where the EFF were you and wt-friggin-f.”

she instructs me to lie down while she turns away and starts opening sterile little packs of needles. i take this time to warn her that i am super-sensitive (i went for acupuncture years ago performed by a well-meaning but not-so-helpful new-agey type) to all the needles and associated feelings that comes with them (tingles, weird swoosh-like warm sensations that make you feel like you can actually feel blood moving around your body; yes, there is something to this ancient acupuncture thing, and trust me, i wouldn’t be saying it if it weren’t true) make me anxious. i know, shocker. neurotic, stressed-out jewish jersey girl gets a panic attack at the acupuncturist….but anyway.

some go in my kneecaps. some on the top of my hands. maybe my ankles? i don’t remember and i wasn’t looking. but definitely one on the top of my head. that one i definitely remember. my scalp tenses up, i get dizzy and i swear i see…green? omg. what is this.

i start to panic. then i get weepy. oh great. GREAT. this is great, i think. just great. i’m about to cry at the acupuncturist’s and i feel this is a woman who will not take to it all that well. she is all business.

everything’s too bright, and i’m dizzy. annnnnd…..here come the waterworks.  

“do you think you could, uh,” i say, my throat getting dry. “turn down the lights?”

“you no like lights?” she quips. “this is yawr pwab-lem. it is yawr LIVER making you nawvous. it is yawr nawvous SEES-tem.”

i want to tell her, um, maybe? but mostly it’s b/c i’ve always had light-sensitive eyes, and i’m staring at fluorescent lights dead-on and my vision’s going green from this needle in the top of my head and please, lady, can you just turn them down? but before i can say much of anything, i sense that she is about to leave the room.

leave me. alone. in this bright room. w/my head tingling and dizzy and blood swirling around my body? at this point i really start to panic.

nooooooooooo. i want to shout. puh-LEESE don’t leave!!! if i could get up and grab onto her ankles i would, but i can’t. i’m too dizzy and i just don’t have the strength. plus i’m scared to look at my legs and hands and see needles everywhere. it’s like i’m in a really lame horror movie set in suburban baltimore.

instead of shouting i quietly squeak, “can you stay here with me? i can’t be in here by myself.” tiny tears are welling up in the corners of my eyes and i can’t wipe them b/c i have needles in my hands.

“you see?” the dr. says as if it everything’s come together for her. it seems i am a textbook case of nervous system liver issues. or something.  ”you cwy vewy easa-wy. dis is yawr nawvous SEES-tem. acupuncture help. hold on, i get receptionist fwrom up fwont to talk to you. i turn off light.”

the grumpy receptionist from up front??? PLEASE NO i want to shout. ANYONE BUT HER.

she turns out the lights on her way out, and returns with the lady from up front who proceeds to sit down in the room’s lone chair, sigh and ask me in a huge, heaving, monotonous voice if i meditate.

“in thru your nooooose,” she says like she’s checking her watch waiting to go home. “out thru your mooooouth.”

omG. this is bad. and it’s making me even more nervous. i switch gears and start doing what i do best: asking questions. this will make her stop ”meditating” with me, and make the time go by, i decide. soon i’m suddenly hearing way too much about her overseas internet fiancee and famous author friends on facebook. she is one of these secretly goth ppl, i see now. and i am in a dark room w/her. alone, stuck full of needles like a pincushion (with a heat lamp above my exposed stomach; i forgot to mention that). i feel very close to a panic attack when the acupuncturist comes back in and before i know it, she has me flip over on my stomach and she’s sticking needles down both sides of my entire neck and down the top of my back. after a half-hour or so (i’m guessing) she comes back and sprays chinese herbs on me and covers where the needles used to be with saran wrap and then put heat lamps on me again. i’m suddenly feeling very warm. hot, even.

goodness gracious. can i be done yet?

i will spare you the rest but we’ll just say it turns out i was there for three hours. they tried to make me buy chinese herbal pills (three pills six times a day?! and i don’t even know what’s IN them b/c the bottle’s not in english) when i was paying my co-pay. i was like, yeah no thanks. i’m going back tonight. after a three-day migraine, what else can i do? (yes i’ve been to many neurologists and have had multiple MRIs and all drs. want to do is drug me up and i refuse to go that route) i’ll let’cha know how it goes.

yes that's the examination room. yes i took a picture of it. yes i'm going back. yes i'm crazy.

“i’ll be wearing a black t-shirt with a girl playing the guitar on it”

that’s what i told holly may 2, 2001, the day before our first date. i also told her i had pink hair (which i did: streaks, manic panic i applied with rubber gloves each week in my tiny takoma park bathroom, very late 90s i know but sue me i’m a jersey girl who graduated high school in ‘96), and she thought (she told me, years later) “how drunk WAS i when we met?!” (for the record: not that drunk. but it was dark and i guess she couldn’t quite see the full majesty that was my  hair in ‘01?)  

well i told you last month how we met. now, in honor of our second eight year anniversary (insert holly’s eyeroll right here; yes, i am a girl and demand that we recognize multiple anniversaries throughout the year–no gifts required, just acknowledgment), i’m going to tell you about our first date. (warning: longest blog entry in the history of lunch at 11:30…)

our first date was nearly one month to the day after we met: may 3, 2001. we talked on the phone and/or emailed nearly every day after we met. i was so happy. i never experienced anything so exciting and romantic (the ppl i was, we’ll say, “involved with” were mainly in college and were mainly…yeah, i won’t go there. let’s just say…not romantic…but what can you expect from a bunch of 18/19/20/21-year-olds?). we had only seen each other one time before that date, and it was late–and dark, apparently.

i decided i’d wear something easily recognizable. i settled on a tight black t-shirt that had a hott rocker cartoon girl on it playing guitar. i paired this with tight-ass black jeans and these huge black moon boots (nine west i think? i found them at t.j. maxx. hmmm wonder why….) and of course some kind of black belt with metal on it and all these spiked bracelets. i was definitely…a sight. but i was cute in my way, if slightly a tad too punk rock for the (now defunct) silver spring bureau of the gazette newspapers, where i had my first reporting gig out of college. as for what holly was going to wear…she may have said something about khaki pants? i don’t know. i think i must have repressed it and thought instead of the black button-down she was wearing when we met, which, late at night, looked somewhat rock n roll.

oh but wait. let’s backtrack a little. i didn’t tell you how we decided where we’d go/what we’d do on our first date. holly called me at the aforementioned office to plan our upcoming evening, and very sweetly asked me what i was interested in doing. i was flattered but also my usual difficult self. actually, i was even more difficult back then. which i know is hard to believe but, sadly, quite true.

“would you like to go to a ball game?” she asked.

“a what? oh no. i don’t do sports.” [i have since morphed into a steelers-crazed, (kosher) hot dog chompin, nacho-throwin (ok i don't throw them but it sounded funny) football fan/baseball-game goer.]

“what about a fun park?”

“huh?”

“a fun park, you know, with rides and stuff.”

“oh, an amusement park. that’s what we call them in jersey. yeah, no. i don’t do those either. don’t do rides.”

there was a third thing, which i also promptly turned down whatever it was. [i just called holly to see if she remembered. she said she didn't know but made a guess that if it was something like the zoo i probably said it was too hot out (it was unseasonably warm in late april/early may 2001, i must say in my defense) and my hair would get puffy.]

“well, what would you like to do?” she said, still sweetly, but now i realize probably trying to hide her growing exasperation.

“let’s go out to eat,” i suggested (as if there was any other choice).

it was settled. we would go out to dinner in dc. a thursday night.

so i get to the restaurant (also now-defunct; what IS this?? it wasn’t that long ago! geez), a place called peppers on 17th st. in dupont circle (just a block away or so from where we met a month earlier) and sit at the bar and start flipping thru a free newspaper (the wash. city paper, probably) as i wait for her. and then in walks this girl with short spiky hair and perfect posture, wearing chinos, brown sandals and a (gulp) yellow long-sleeved shirt. pastel yellow. (yes, you can laugh now.) i was like, huh? is this the same girl? haha.

she was so polite and sweet and…so ironed. i was…not ironed. (tho my bangs were flat-ironed. does that count? ha.) and i told you already what i was wearing. i moved past my book-by-its-cover shallowness and we sat down and ordered food. apparently, i told her i was a vegetarian (i don’t remember this but holly does and i believe her), which isn’t at all true. it’s what i tell ppl sometimes (like the mostly italian-speaking lunch ladies in high school, for example) when i don’t feel like explaining the whole kosher thing. apparently, this made holly thing woah boy. big red flag in her western pee-ay book.

i ordered something, i don’t remember what. something with mushrooms that holly recalls i complained about being too cheesy (thanks, babe, for remembering all the important details). i don’t remember what she ordered, but i do remember she paid, which, swoon. a girl paying for me? niiice. (if you haven’t caught the hint, i’m not that hard to impress)

we left and walked around the neighborhood and i was having a great time tho holly told me months later that she thought the date was kind of a disaster by that point, “i kept saying things that pissed you off,” she recalls. ha. funny, i don’t recall being pissed off. a first for me. anyway, we wound up sitting on a bench on the outside perimeter of dupont circle park, close to the starbucks on the corner (for all you washingtonians or ex-washingtonians out there that are into details like me). there were, as per usual, a couple, um, vocal folks there (i call them “crazies,” which i know isn’t nice, but yelling like a banshee in public does make one seem a little off).

holly was still new to the city back then. she had only moved to baltimore (yes, we had ”long distance” relationship for the first couple years) from pee-ay, let’s see, only about three months before our date, so yeah.

i told her not to look at them. esp. the ones close by. and what did she do? she looked. oh, hunny, i love ya…

so it was getting late and in my impish mind, i thought: i have my very own apt. tho it was crappy and i decorated the place with old furniture and cinder blocks that i spray painted silver, it was the very first place i could call my own. in other words: it wasn’t a dorm. and it was private. before the date even started i decided that i would bring her back to my place no matter what. i mean, c’mon, i already knew she wasn’t psycho. we talked on the phone for a month, ppl, cut me some slack. i was 22 and _____. (fill in the blank. this is a family blog. wait, no it’s not but i’m not going to say it here.)

“could you drive me back to my car?” i asked sweetly. if i had longer hair back then i’m sure i would have been twirling it. “it’s parked at the takoma park metro station. it’s not that far.”

of course she said yes, and of course she was clueless to my mischievous plans. she pretty much thought the date was a wash by this point, so what was an extra 20 mins in the car?

so she drives me to my parked car, and i’m like, “would you like to come to my apartment?” and clueless her was like, “ok,” thinking, what? we’d have tea? (ha. no but srsly. if she wanted tea i would most def made her tea. i always have no less than like 10 kinds of tea wherever i’m living.)

she follows me in her silver two-door chevy cavalier coupe (i thought it was hella sporty; like i said, not that hard to impress). i’m driving my super-dorky two-door ford focus hatchback (which i mistakenly thought was cool back then). we go up garland and turn up prospect and park in the little driveway. i cross my fingers that the roaches don’t scatter, at least in the kitchen where they usually hang out, when i turn on the lights. the place was clean but it was old. old like ten million coats of paint around the windows and water-warped kitchen counters old. it had this wall-to-wall crappy thin red carpet w/black specks. i had an ikea futon with an off-white cushion against the window with a cheap black ikea coffee table in front of it and a boom box sitting on top of yes, silver cinder blocks along the other wall. i kept a rabbit-eared tv on a chair, (hey i made $600 every two weeks, i did what i could, ok?) and my used electric bass was against the other wall.

i don’t remember all the details of that night. but it seemed to get very late very quickly. (late is my equivalent of drunk, as i’m not much of a drinker. i have a tendancy to make trouble when it’s late) she showed me some pictures of her family that she brought along, and i ooh’ed and ahh’ed at her cool cell phone, which had a computerized panda walking on the screen. i had never seen anything like it.

i played the bass for her. (that was during my bass stage. i used to sit on that crummy carpet and try to replicate basslines from garbage and the go-gos at night and on the weekends) who plays the electric friggin bass for their dates?? good grief. then i started to get nervous. so i started giving her these tiny bottles of spring water i kept in the fridge. by 3am i probably gave her like three or four. i turned on some music…it was all very…collegiate, thinking back to it. i think it was duran’s duran’s greatest hits. (again: good grief.) all the while she thought she had messed up this date. and she totally didn’t.

in the interest of, well, oh who the hell knows maybe my parents are going to read this one day? i am going to self-censor the rest and just say that we ”hung out” for a while longer and she left in the morning. [HEY. before you judge me: she slept on the futon (hey, i may have had pink hair but i was still old-fashioned)] i had to leave for work, but i made us coffee in the perculator my late grandma (who passed just under a year ago at that point) gave me before i graduated college.

we sat there, swirling coffee with milk or non-dairy powdered cream, who the hell knows what i put in my coffee back then, clinking spoons against my second-hand diner style mugs (oh man those were great mugs) at a table a couple girls down the street had given me. it was in pretty bad shape so i covered it with a vinyl zebra print tablecloth (hell know where i found that! ha.). [all of you who didn't know me in college and/or have never visited my kitsch-filled office (where i keep all my snow globes and madonna album covers and ramones posters and pink flamingo lamp) but have visited our "urban chic" home may gasp but yes. i do love me some kitsch.] i was all nerves, but i was also all smiles.

we left the apartment at the same time. i remember standing on the crumbly asphalt saying goodbye near our cars. it all felt so…adult. but not. like i said, i was all nerves, tingling right down to my fingertips. she wanted to kiss goodbye, but i hugged her instead. (such a pain in the ass i was, ha) holly says to this day it was the coffee that saved the morning. i guess i let my goofy 22-year-old fake-ass guard down by then. hell it only took about 24 hours. thank goodness for grandma’s peculator, right?

i, of course, was terrible about giving her directions to get back on the highway back to baltimore. i told her to follow me and she did but somehow we got our signals crossed and she missed the exit onto the beltway.

i got to work and emailed her:
(yes, i saved the emails. yes i save my old hotmail account specifically for our near-ancient emails. i know i know…)

>>From: “jessica” >>To: “holly”>>Subject: Re: >>Date: Thu, 03 May 2001 09:50:52 -0400 >> >
holly…i’m running off to cover something right now in d.c. but i  just wanted to drop you a line before i go off…i want to tell you that i had a really nice time with you last night and…and and and…i don’t know. that’s just it. i think you had fun too. just wanted to tell you.
 >well i hope you eventually made it onto the beltway east…you probably did…i looked behind me and you were there i was like holly!! what are you *doing*! funny.
>have a good weekend. and i will too. i’ll say hi to nyc for you b/c >i think i’ll be there saturday night.
 >take it easy, you. >jessica.

and she wrote back from baltimore:

Re: ‏
From: “Holly” To: “Jessica”
Fri 5/04/01 4:44 AM

Jessica,

Yes I did get on the Beltway, can you believe I did that………funny. I found a great way that puts you out right by my house so when you do come to visit me, it should be easy for you…………………….that is if you do want a next time because I do! I also had a great time and will look forward to our next encounter. I like how we have stuff in common but at the same time we are different but we can still blend and probably learn from one another.

You can teach me some slang so I don’t act my age. You have a safe trip and have fun in NY. I am going to try to call you before your meeting to make sure your and, and, and, and are answered.

Holly

so cute, right??  (i swear, i read these old emails and it’s all i can do to keep from crying, they’re so sweet, esp. hers…)

back then we were both just along for the ride. and look at us, all these years later, all married and whatnot. so not what we expected or even wanted. at least we didn’t think so back then. a few months into things, holly told me on that same futon that i was everything she never knew she wanted.

so for all you ppl out there who thought a first date wasn’t so good. or that someone “looks” too different from you for a relationship to work, think again. we are living proof that sometimes you need someone unexpected in your life, even someone who seems totally different than you, to give you everything you never knew you wanted and every single thing you’ll ever need…

eff you, miss california

so the embattled miss california has obviously had enough of all us forward-thinking folks pickin’ on her and she’s decided to go to dc to launch a campaign against same-sex marriage. she of the “well, i think it’s great that americans are able to choose one or the other. we live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage” is launching a campaign.

[which leaves me wondering: "opposite marriage"?? what is that? isn't that, like, divorce? [i am quoting her directly, btw, from her answer at the miss usa pageant, which you can see here.]

i’m kind of irritated w/the today show (one of my fave shows; hi, meredith! hi, matt! hi, anne! love ya!), as they aired an “exclusive” interview w/her this a.m.  i already had a blaring headache and her squeaky little pageant voice just made it worse.

i’m like, look. you’re obviously not that bright. also? it’s also not very “christian” of you to launch a “campaign” against ppl who love each other and want to tie the knot. this is what kills me about “religious” ppl: you say you’re all religious and want to walk in the ways of G-d. the thing is, G-d doesn’t shun! or ostracize. or hate. (at least not the G-d i know. i’m jewish btw.) and neither did jesus. but whatevs.

anyway, i’m just like, shut the eff up. stick to vasiline-ing your teeth and waving and being thin and smiling and trying on gowns and stuff.

ppl like holly and i are obviously trying to undermine the american family. you know, like, our eight years together, where we’ve like…cooked together and gone to museums and drive in our cars and get haircuts and stuff. obviously.

10,000 and counting!

oh and btw? i’ve totally hit the 10,000 mark! (surpassed it, in fact)

this is all thanks to YOU, my loyal readers! happy friday (or “fry-day,” as nicolina and i refer to it; a day for good times and many many fries ) and a sunshine-filled weekend!!! (supposed to gawgeous in bmore/dc) woohooo!

here’s the thing i don’t get

there’s been a lot of bad news around the baltimore area lately. in the span of one week, two entire families (wife/husband/kids) have been killed in murder-suicides, both committed by fathers/husbands. one family had three kids, the other two. one lived in a quiet town outside baltimore, the other was from new york visiting their college daughter (a loyola student; apparently, she walked into the towson hotel room they were staying at and her father had already killed her mom and 11 year-old-sister).

more and more info keeps surfacing on both cases, and as much as it disturbs me, i keep reading. i mean, we all do. it’s human nature. everyone wants to find out why these sick things happened. what could possible lead a person to kill his entire family, kids and all? of course, as the “why” trickles out, so do details about the “how,” but i don’t even want to go there.

considering the state of affairs in this country, it’s not a complete surprise to me that the motives here were based in finance. debt, basically. also bad business practices in the latter case. so here’s the thing i just don’t yet:

you’re miserable. you’re drowning in debt. you want to kill yourself. so WHY TAKE YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY OUT????  why in the hell do you have to take your entire family down with you? most ppl w/families have life insurance policies. and these were middle class families, so they probably would have been taken care of if the father/husband took his own life. as much as it would suck and be awful, life would go on for the remaining family members. but instead, their lives were cut short. some of these were little kids.

the wife of a friend of mine called it narcissism. that these men thought they were so important, so essential, they if they had to go, they all did, b/c they could never go on w/out him. i never thought about it like that. but it could definitely be true.

the whole thing’s got me thinking about deranged, psychotic behavior in general. like, all these school shootings. these depressed, lonely kids hate their lives, hate themselves. so why the heck do you have to kill a dozen ppl and then yourselves??? i will never ever understand this.

this might just be my unfunniest blog entry yet, (you all know i live to make you laugh) but i just can’t stop thinking about all this. i promise next time i’ll be back to my old self. i’m just bummed lately, and haven’t been in the mood to joke around. (also spring headaches.)

if you have thoughts on all this (and i’m sure you), i’d love to hear them, so please chime in…