wasn’t i just, like, 15…yesterday? it really feels that way. it seriously does. (the fact that i act like i’m 15 half the time only compounds this. the ashlee simpson circa 2005 haircut doesn’t help matters but oh i do love it so)
my dad warned me back when, gosh, i think i was a senior in high school or early in my college career that time really flies faster and faster once you get older. you all remember back when you were in high school (or maybe you’re in high school now): time. moved. soooooo sloooowly. like, you couldn’t wait to be done with it all. “older” and…”mature.” and then you’re finally older and you’re kind of wanting it to slow down.
my mom says that life just keeps getting better and better with each passing year, and i have to say i see where she’s coming from. ok, so i’m laid off. and i kind of live…in a…transitional neighborhood. where i can’t even take a decent walk by myself during “business hours” (omG what is w/all the crazies in the park between 10 and 4?!; also, haha, i remember business hours! they suck!) and the dead rats in the alley outnumber our friendly neighbors (ok, i’m exaggerating. kind of. but not by much.) but i have my wonderful unlawfully wedded partner by my side, i feel more sure of myself than ever and i’ll tell you what: i am having a damn good time.
i’ll tell you another thing: i have felt better the past three weeks than i have in years. i am not exaggerating. i went from having migraines two, three times a week to…well, i don’t want to jinx things, but let’s just say a whole helluva lot less. it’s amazing what stress and basically being unhappy from roughly 9-5:30 monday thru friday can do to a person. three weeks into this new chapter in my life, and i feel like a new person. i was full of knots before. my brain was a clenched fist. my days have taken on an entirely new rhythm. and i can devote myself entirely to what i love to do: write. i have just been so…happy. it’s a new feeling (i guess you don’t realize just how unhappy you’ve been until you’re actually happy) for me, this happiness that’s not just on a saturday and/or sunday. let’s just say i’m getting used to it quickly.
so here’s to this new chapter in my life. a new (jewish) year. and a new 31st year here on planet earth (wait, wasn’t that a duran duran song?!). i’m already thinking it’s a pretty doggone good one. and the fact that i’m eating lunch closer to 11am now makes it even better
neither one of us can figure how she got this weird mark. she says her bookbag scratched her. (mmhmmm yeah right) in any case, it’s weird and i laugh every time i look at it, esp. with all the vampire tv shows and movies out right now.
hi megan! what? you want me to have your t-shirt! aww thank you!
cause, like, i have the time now. to practice and strategically rip my jeans and plan a tour and stuff. since i’m laid off now. i probably could write good lyrics (being a writer and all) and i kind-of-sort-of play the electric bass, which i have in our basement. i mean, i’m halfway there already, with the rock look and black clothes and bangs and whatnot. plus i’m sure i can look menacing. also hott. (but in a non-threatening way so the tweeniebopper parents will let the kids download our hit singles. and then we can finance our-soon-to-be expensive pedicure/iced coffee-triple-soy-latte habit w/out worry.)
any takers??
the only catch is that i don’t really drink. or smoke. and the jewish thing kind of throws a wrench into the whole tattoo thing. and i’m incredibly responsible and like waking up early and get a lot of headaches and low blood-sugar all the time.
oh wait: i’m actually a huge dork.
ha. ok, forget it. dressing in black and wearing baltimore tattoo museum t-shirts every other day is actually easier. plus, hello! rockstars can’t get low bloodsugar! unless you’re type 1 diabetic brett michaels. and he’s a big ol slut anyway.
and…they’re eight. or nine. basically, i get along best with eight and nine-year-old girls.
case in point: who was i hangin’ w/at holly’s four-year-old nephew’s birthday party on sunday?? (note: he tried to convince me he was turning six but i totally didn’t buy it ) and where was i hangin’ w/them?
i was in the computer room with her nine-year-old niece (regan) and her eight or nine-year-old cousin using an upside-down plastic bowling pin as a make-pretend microphone singing along with…miley cyrus. (that was supposed to sound like a whisper) we were doing some dancing, too. then we put on the black-eyed peas and gavin, one of holly’s cousin derek’s kids (would that make him her second cousin? i have no idea. i am so bad w/that kind of stuff) who’s…five? or six? came in and started breakdancing.
i was pretty much in heaven.
the kids, they do not judge. also they are shameless for their enthusiasm for all things cheesy, such as ms. cyrus. i, too, have great enthusiasm for cheesy pop culture stuff (tho miley is pushin it, even for me) and it’s nice not to have to hide it for once.
it turns out youtube is a great resource for the tween girls. every time regan wants to hear a song, she types (with just two fingers, so cute) the name of the song plus “lyrics” so she can not only dance around (she never fails to pump up the computer speakers to their full capacity, i kind of love that even tho it distorts the sound) but sing along, too.
when regan and i aren’t singing along to miley cyrus songs, we are reading tween/teen mags, talking about nail polish, which jonas brother is the cutest (she likes nick), etc. while she tries on my accessories (i do love to accessorize), such as: bracelets, necklaces and scarves (she esp. likes my skull scarf; great taste, this kid).
ok, now i have that doggone song in my head again. i believe this is the actual version we used sunday afternoon.
don’t forget to nod your head “like yeah” and swing your hips “like yeah” at the appropriate moment (oh and you’ll know it when you hear it). also good to wave your arms up in the air (like, say, you’re at a bon jovi concert) during the “hands up” part.
oh you know you love it. you love it! (it’s ok! i won’t tell!)
like they do in the movies? ijs and ijw (wondering).
srsly. while i can’t name more than a couple movies that feature this at this very moment (and truly there are far too many to even name), i see it all the time.
i thought of this last night as we watched the crudely funny “my best friend’s girl” [which i recommend if you don't get offended easily, and yes, it's funny. and no, i would've never seen it if holly hadn't grabbed it off the blockbuster shelf sat. night w/all the force of a thousand five-year-olds ("yesssss! this is the one i was telling you about!" oh she's so cute. love you, hunny!)] and the main guy, whassis name…dane cook (who i can’t help but like after this movie even tho he made me mad in ”dan in real life“) gets upset about something or other and then all the sudden, lo and behold! there he is in a restroom, splashing cold water on his face trying to knock some sense back into himself.
i don’t know about you, but when i get upset, it takes a whole lot more than a little cold water on my face to make me feel better. (sadly, i don’t drink. but coffee helps sometimes, as does fresh air or venting to poor holly until she tells me, “honey, you’re making me anxious. can you pls stop?” haha.) and hell, anyway, if you’re a woman (or a man; hey, ijs) who typically wears make-up, then you’ll be with me on the following: hell-to-the-no if i’m gonna ruin my bare escentuals with some random splash of water! and then you haveta wipe off with some crinkly, weird-smelling paper towels that leave lint and red spots–and yes, a weird odor–on your face.
i know: the movies aren’t reality. but with so many ppl in ‘em splashin cold water on their faces, you’d think everyone did it. maybe they do. do you? in any case, ijn (i just noticed) and iwjtaw (i was just thinking and wondering). apu (as per usual).
[and no. we haven't caught any mice. yet. remind me one day to tell you a real-life story i like to call "The Night of a Thousand Mice." all true. (well, not a thousand. but a lot.) pinky swear.]
what? my balance is good? aww *blush* thanks!!! (ok actually? i have no idea what she's saying here b/c clearly it's not in english. it's just the best pic i could find.) (hi! see you tonight!!! can't wait!)
no, i definitely do.
i don’t know her name (and i don’t think she knows mine). and it’s not the way she looks (tho she is fit in a…mechanical kind of way). it’s that voice! omg it’s like…velvet. a hot soy latte on a blustery day. wooooh boy! baby baby.
i must clarify that this is my Wii Fit trainer. you know the nintendo game thingy where you run around your living room like a maniac swinging a remote, which is actually a tennis racket. or a bowling ball. or golf club or baseball bat. we got the system from holly’s parents for xmas along with this Wii Fit board. i was a bit wary of it at first (after all, the last time i played video games was the original super mario bros. like…back in the late 80s? yeah i saved up the $113 for it myself and played til my tiny thumbs hurt). but once i tried it (THANK YOU, CHRISTINA! are you reading?! love ya!) i was impressed.
so, in a nutshell, you can do all these aerobic/strength/balance/yoga exercises. and for the strength and balance sections, you choose a trainer: male or female. now, i know what you’re thinking! that homo, she probably chose the girl. oh but you are WRONG, my friends! i chose the guy. (i prefer male trainers, male hairdressers, male bosses, male colleagues; sorry, girls, but you know we can all be a pain in the ass and i can’t deal w/the friggin drama) i decided to switch it up earlier this week w/the female trainer and…yeah.
we were doing yoga together (siiiigh) last night, and i was like, hotDAMN i can’t deny it any longer! i cannot deny my feelings! oh Wii trainer, i love how you compliment my balance even when it’s way off. i love how you tell me i must have good posture (even tho i probably don’t). i love all your encouragement. most of all, i love that sexpot voice. rrrrrrrrrrrar! see you tonight! don’t tell holly!
my interest in boys peaked around middle school and let me tell you who i was ga-ga over: jonathan knight. from new kids on the block. (yes, this dates me. but whatever! i’m 30 and proud.) you know the one: brother of jordan knight; quiet, sensitive type?
omG how i loved him. (tho 80s jon bon jovi was my all-time #1; more on him some other day) and now word has finally gotten out that he’s a big ol homo. (just like me, for all those new readers that think i’m, haha, a homophobe. in fact i’m a homophile.)
gossip blogger perez hilton got word out in august (tho of course i missed it at the time), and now knight’s ex is selling pics of the two. (nice, huh? geez.)
i can’t help but laugh. it figures i’d like the gay one.
my gay-ex-wanna-be-never-been lover, jonathan knight: third from left, the tall one w/the swoopy hair next to danny who everyone at school said looked like a monkey. omG look at their hair! whY??!!
(ok, w/that dog, i totally coulda called it.)
he’s turned out to be a really handsome grown man, too. i wonder if him and doogie hang out? with lance bass? and clay aiken?? haha.
case in point: lil wayne. all the kids love him. and clearly he’s doing something right b/c he’s rich as sin. i mean, look. i see the entertainment value in him. i do. and he does excel at the whole-body tattoo thing (that he does all the way). and the dirty lyrics. but, like, really. the guy only says half of each word. have you noticed? iiii’jus sayin.
it’s just, like, i wanna be rich, too, dammit. and if it takes cutting down on my syllables and grabbin a huge-o pair’a jeans and cinchin’em low, i’m willing to do it!! (haha. i just totally made myself crack up. it is friday yet???)
going to subway and coming back to your office smelling like a sub?
or stopping at 7-11 (or “sevs,” as we call it in jersey) for a cuppa coffee and smelling like a mini-refried-deep-fried-fake-beef toquito for the rest of the day?
this is a hard call, as both seem to equally permeate clothing, especially in the winter when you’re wearing sweaters and scarves.
anyway, let me know what you think. b/c right now i smell like a sub and it’s driving me crazy.
