i went into a panic last night about the polar vortex and now we have too much food in the house.

so yeah, as you probably already guessed, i bought into the media hype about the “polar vortex” and kind of went into a panic last night.

the panic was similar to the widespread terror many of us here in maryland feel when we hear or read that it will snow except no snow was involved, just cold. this panic, of course, gave me an urgent, frenzied feeling that we were out of everything in the house and we needed to go to the supermarket immediately. i usually have this feeling anyway, because i’m jewish and we never feel like we have enough food in the house. it’s like, a genetic thing, so that when we have visitors we will feed them until they say NO MORE PLEASE STOP. this gives us great joy. anyway, i pushed holly out into the cold and off we went to the store.

when we made it there–THANK GOODNESS WE MADE IT, IT WAS SO COLD–before we got out of the car, she turned to me and said, calmly, that we were going to be ok. that there was no need to panic, we would be fine, we were only here to pick up a few things, we didn’t need to go into emergency mode, this wasn’t a hurricane, etc. i only heard her say “panic,” “emergency,” and “hurricane” so i panicked even more.

we get inside and the store’s…empty. it’s almost empty. OH MY GOSH WHY IS IT EMPTY? WHERE IS EVERYONE? clearly everyone else knows it’s extremely dangerous to be out in such cold. we’ve made a grave mistake but it’s too late to go back now. i must think fast. we must act fast. the temperature’s dropping.

lunch meats! we need lunch meats. MILK! TEA! PEARS! OH MY GOSH WE NEED PEARS.

CANNED FOOD! tuna! YES TUNA! and EGGS! OH LORD THE EGGS. we get to the eggs and THE EGGS ARE ALMOST GONE! the masses have already been here, i think. clearly there’s reason to panic, the eggs are gone! the only eggs left are three containers of those weird omega 3 eggs so we settle on a carton of egg whites. this is a valuable source of protein, i think. one that, i figure, we can cook up using a candle somehow, which i will light immediately when the electricity goes off because surely it will because we live in baltimore and nothing works here. AND OH MY GOSH WE’D BETTER CHARGE UP OUR CELLPHONES HONEY HOW MUCH POWER DOES YOUR CELL PHONE HAVE (i grab it from holly’s hands) OH MY GOSH ONLY 58% THAT WILL ONLY LAST US MAYBE HALF THE DAY. then i see mine is only at 20% and nearly faint.

we get to the cashier and we don’t even have to wait in line. it’s that empty. OH. MY GOSH. IT’S THE VORTEX. we need to move fast. YOU BAG, i tell holly, AND I’LL PUT THE FOOD ON THE CONVEYOR BELT.

the bill is $104 and i honestly have no idea what we bought besides milk and tuna and pears. i obviously blacked out while we were shopping. this is bad.

we go out to the car and the wind is howling.

HONEY! i shout over the swirling winds. HONEY! YOU PUT THE BAGS. IN THE CAR. I’LL. TAKE BACK. THE CART!

i want to shout SAVE YOURSELF! but i decide there’s no need to be dramatic.

we get in the car and start driving home and we see water gushing out into the street. WATERMAIN BREAK, i think. i immediately decide to hoard water when we get home, lest our pipes burst. first i’ll fill the brita filter. then all the pots. every one of them. the largest ones first. i’ll fill the crockpot, too. nothing’s off limits. if it can hold water, i will fill it. i made a stir fry earlier in the day and noticed a green pepper can hold water once you empty out the seeds. i suddenly wish i had bought another pepper. i’d fill that, too.

when we got home, i almost expected our block to be engulfed in flames but honestly, everything was fine (save for some drafty bedroom windows, which holly managed to fix).

it’s late and i want to keep things short so i’ll wrap things up:

the wind blew all night but we both managed to sleep. in the morning, we woke up and i found a cheese danish in the pantry. i’d like to say i was in my blacked-out state when i purchased that, but no, i totally remember buying it. i found beans and two cans of tuna, milk, the carton of egg whites, pears, frozen chopped spinach, and a number of other necessities.

what didn’t i find? what were we out of? toilet paper.

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NOBODY LIKES YOU, LORD GRANTHAM. NOT EVEN YOUR MOM. (downton abbey season 4 premiere recap)

how could such a cool lady have such a loser son?

when we left off, i had given up on downton abbey. matthew was dead. sybil was dead. everything was in chaos and i couldn’t take it anymore. but that was almost a year ago. and as the months ticked by, my pain eased. i started pining for that damn theme song again, and english things, like tea, and being proper, and holding in one’s emotions to the point of it actually being bad for one’s health.

anyway, i really enjoyed writing irreverent downton reviews last year and i think you enjoyed it, too. so i’ll take a break from my usual neuroses and get back to it. LET’S GO.

first some general thoughts:

1. i still can only understand like 80% of what people say. the whole show i’m like WHAT? HOLLY WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?

2. every time i watch that damn show it’s like my brain has an english accent for two hours afterwards. like…the voice in my head is speaking like it actually lives in downton. and when i talk, like, out loud, i kind of expect to be speaking with an english accent but…i still sound like i’m from new jersey. what’s up with that?

3. seeing how friggin O’BRIEN finally left (CAN I GET A WHAT WHAT), can we all agree that it’s pretty ridiculous that no one “upstairs” in that house is able to, you know, dress themselves? i know they’re rich but get a grip! c’mon cora! i know you can put on a dress yourself! OH WOE IS YOU, YOU LOST YOUR MAID. guess what?? SHE WAS AN EVIL BITCH AND YOU’D HAVE A BABY RIGHT NOW IF THAT WENCH DIDN’T PUSH YOU OUT OF THE TUB OR WHATEVER SHE DID. THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU.

ok i guess i only have three general thoughts. here’s some commentary on the characters:

lord grantham: i think we can all agree that lord grantham is more of an ass than ever. even his mom is calling him out on his shit. NOBODY LIKES YOU, ROBERT. ONLY THE DOG LIKES YOU. (can we get a hand for the dog?? cutest cast member!) why is he so power hungry? ew! i can’t stand him. it’s like: you already ran the place into the ground once, what makes us think you won’t do it again? give mary a chance! she’s your daughter! idiot chauvinist. you know what? just leave! take a vacation. we’re all sick of you and stop reading so much in bed. talk to your damn wife. you’re lucky she didn’t leave your ass in season 1.

mary: they did a great job making her look really terrible. i mean, really pale. good thing her father pissed her off so badly that she got some gumption and changed into a purple dress and started to kick some man ass. YOU GO GIRL. she did, however, still dig down deep and find the energy to be mean to edith. gotta love it.

edith. yes, edith: edith has been the bane of my existence. but, like, that time she told on mary after she saw her dragging that hot dead guy out of her room in the middle of the night….it was a while ago. and i know she’s really annoying but (sigh) everyone’s really mean to her and they’re laughing that she has a boyfriend. let the girl have a damn boyfriend! maybe that’ll calm her ass down. MAYBE IT WILL GET HER OUT OF THE HOUSE. anyway, she’ll probably move to germany and that’ll make everyone hate her more.

“her ladyship”: i thought i had bad intuition about people, but girl, you blow me right outta the water! get a clue! how could you NOT SEE that lady maid you just hired is a sketchy biznatch?! good job firing that nutjob nanny, btw. well done.

yeah, the nanny: if i ever see her, i’m gonna kick her in the mouth. what a weirdo!

granny: i do love me some dowager countess. she kicks so much ass. how could such a cool lady have such a loser son? she is the best character on the whole damn show. she needs a spinoff.

rose: who the hell is rose again?? GET OUT OF DOWNTON. NO SERIOUSLY. LEAVE.

thomas: if i had a choice between punching thomas or edith, i’d choose thomas. because while edith is just clueless and generally annoying, thomas is just plain evil. however, despite my protests, i’ve come to the conclusion that he’ll never leave. i made a statement last year that he needed a boyfriend and i stand by that. he’d be a whole lot happier and a whole lot calmer if he was gettin some. also: for once his evilness did some good and got that freak of a nanny way the hell out of the house. i don’t think i’ll ever say this again but good job, thomas. however, i will counteract that by saying: try smoking less! it’s going to age you!  how you gonna attract a fine young thang if you look like an old man and have a gross smoker’s cough? girl please.

mr. bates: something’s up with mr. bates. he’s creepy. i regret rooting for him.

mr. carson: that was quite a woman! did you see her picture? it looked like him in drag!

mosley: poor mosley! i’m telling you, when that dingaling jerk butler handed him that burning hot plate i nearly lost it. i used to hate him, but now i feel bad for him. why’s this show always gotta play with my emotions like that?? shiiiiit.

10 reasons why i’m actually a senior citizen

my people.

i have long suspected that i’m actually a senior citizen in a young(er) person’s body. and not, like, what aarp considers a “senior” (55. puh-lease! 55 is the new 35!) no no no, i’m talkin little old lady senior. like, little. the kind that gets her hair set, drinks coffee with lunch, and clears the way through the local diner with her cane. (that was my late gram. she was so totally and completely cool, it was kind of unbelievable.)

anyway, ever since i got my nighttime mouthguard (see “i got a retainer“) and started soaking it in efferdent, i started thinking: oh my gosh. i really am a senior.

i recalled my unbridled joy as i played bingo with italian-american octogenarians at the sons of italy lodge, this year and in years past, pining for the $13 “jackpot.” of my deep love for the golden girls, and my need to secure the boxed set, despite holly’s protests. my need to shout WHAT? at my spouse even when i hear her.

so i started making a list of all the reasons why i’m actually a senior citizen. because what else am i gonna do while i wait for the efferdent to turn from blue to clear?

ok, here we go:

1. i have hard candy in my bag at all times. including ginger chews “in case one of us gets nauseous.”

2. i also have “nerve spray” in my bag at all times. for nerves. it can also help with nausea if it makes you nervous. (which, yes. being nauseous makes me nervous. don’t even get me started.)

3. speaking of bags…i need to admit to myself that as much as i want to call what i carry around a bag, it’s…a purse. and i pretty much have it with me at all times. i strap it across my body “in case i get mugged” and freak the hell out if i can’t find it in three seconds, shouting to poor holly WHERE’S MY PURSE HONEY WHERE IN THE HELL IS MY PURSE. this is my grandma’s gene. her bag was full of crumpled tissues and hard candies with pennies stuck to them. i’m getting there. 

4. i always check the backseat when i get in the car. again, this is a habit i picked up from my gram who shouted CHECK THE BACKSEAT at me once i started driving. as a lifelong non-driver, it was the one tip she offered me. i guess this was a thing once? people hiding in the backseat? i also lock the doors immediately when we get in the car. “in case we get carjacked.” or rather: “to keep from getting carjacked.”

5. here are the three things i always have in my coat pockets: hand sanitizer, lipstick, and mace. see: “in case i get mugged.” also usually napkins. see #6.

6. i always take a stack of napkins when we go to starbucks or chipotle. and we go to these places often. not such a big stack that it’s obnoxious, but like, a decent, respectable amount. #1, you never know when you’ll need extra napkins! you could sneeze. you could spill something. you could find yourself in an emergency situation where you need to immediately blot your lipstick. #2, they’re good napkins! #3, you need them for your purse. what else will your hard candies stick to? #4, you need them for the glove compartment. #5, you need them to wipe off the seat after you spray the bastard that’s been hiding in your backseat with mace.

7. if holly is in the bathroom for more than 60 seconds i begin shouting HONEY ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU OKAY? (again, i picked this up from my grandma, who would shout ARE YOU MOVING YOUR BOWELS at the bathroom door if i was in the bathroom for more than two minutes. she would shout this to me even when i was four years old. before i even knew what “moving my bowels” meant.) this is the way i show my love. by shouting about my spouse’s health. see #8.

8. if holly coughs i immediately announce that she’s coming down with something and then hound her about zipping up her coat. i threaten to make her soup. i ask if she loves me. because if she did, she’d zip up her coat.

9. water aerobics classes featuring hits of the 80s, 90s and today. tried it, loved it, ready to get a floral swim cap so i don’t ruin my blowout.

10. if you visit, i will ask you 10 times if you’re hungry. if you say no, i will feed you anyway. if you still refuse to eat, i will send you home with fruit. old people love fruit. i love fruit. especially apples and oranges. and we all know those are the preferred fruits of seniors.

and…….a very special #11…..****drumroll please!****

if the weather’s too bad to walk outside, i’ll do laps in the mall!!!!

HAPPY 2014, ALL! LET’S MAKE IT COUNT!

me, left. holly, right. happy new year from balteemore, hons!

every once in a while our periods collide & our house pretty much goes up in flames.

i should start this post by saying that this entry talks about periods and hormones and if you have a problem with that, you should probably leave right now because sh*t’s about to get real around here.

people always say that if you’re a female of child-bearing age hanging around/living with other women of child-bearing age you will eventually all get on the same cycle (that’s “period cycle” for those not in the know, which, really?). anyway, the reason for this has to do with…pheromones or something weird like that. i don’t know, look it up.

anyway, holly and i have been together almost 13 years and our periods have only converged a few times. PROBABLY BECAUSE WE’RE BOTH THE ALPHA. i should stop right here and say that sometimes i think my strong feminine pheromones pull her into my cycle. kind of like the rings of saturn. they’re that strong.

(holly, if you’re reading this, be quiet. i can see your lips moving but i can’t hear any sound.)

ANYWAY, this was one of those months. that our periods collided. we didn’t know it was happening at the time. and let me tell you, we were about to kill each other.

case in point: the damn tea. the damn mugs.

seeing how i work from home and all, i make a lot of tea. i make a lot of coffee but i make more tea. seeing how we both work from home i make holly a lot of tea, too. (she claims i mostly ask her if she wants tea but then forget to make it. i say this is bullsh*t. this only happens some of the time.)

so we’re recently back from a trip to disney world with holly’s family and we picked up two mugs while we were there. i gotta say: they’re pretty nice mugs. great shape, great weight, great design. one’s mickey mouse, one’s donald duck. i didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently the donald duck one is holly’s and the mickey mouse one is mine? oh excuse me, i thought we were sharing them equally. 

yeah so i’m making holly tea the other day. i know the mugs she likes and i know the ones she doesn’t. i choose one of her less favorite ones because the “best ones” aren’t clean. i’m getting the damn tea bag ready to put in the mug and she looks over and is like WHY AREN’T YOU USING ONE OF OUR DISNEY MUGS.

i was like, uh, EXCUSE ME THEY’RE NOT CLEAN RIGHT NOW AND TRUST ME I DID YOU A FAVOR BECAUSE THIS ONE’S THE BEST OF THE WORST AND YOU SHOULD ACTUALLY BE THANKING ME INSTEAD OF ACTING LIKE A JERK ABOUT IT.

suddenly her eyes, usually kind pools of brown, were filled with flames and daggers. my skin got all, what’s the word? like when a cat arches its damn back and hisses. similar to that. but skin.

i felt mad because dammit i was being nice by making her tea and choosing the least hateful mug i could find.

did she really want me to give her one of those generic starbucks mugs that she hates? (i don’t know why we even have them anymore. we got them years ago in a gift set and we’re always avoiding them. they need to go.) or one of the huge mugs that hold hold so much water they’d water down her decaf tea?

I WAS DOING HER A FAVOR AND SHE WAS, LIKE, RUDE. ABOUT IT. REALLY RUDE. AND IT MADE ME MAD.

me being mad made her mad and then we exchanged words. i was like, oh now i’m supposed to ask you what mug you want every time i make you tea? for the rest of our lives? like, get mug approval if there’s no disney mugs available? and she was like can you just stop talking? CAN YOU JUST. STOP TALKING.

then she shot fire daggers from her eyes. and i wanted to karate chop her in the throat. i felt like saying that but i didn’t. because telling your spouse who’s suffering from severe pms (lalala, see your lips moving, holly, not hearing any sound) that you want to karate chop her in the throat is usually a bad idea.

this was just one fight of many small to medium fights we had in a span of a week.

(I JUST THOUGHT OF THE WORD: BRISTLING! she made my skin bristle.)

we’d pass each other in the kitchen or look at each other in our office and i’d think why can’t we stand each other? what is happening right now? why does her breathing make me mad? why do i feel she can’t stand to be around me right now? why do her brown eyes look like pits of hot tar about to burn my insides? 

she’d put her cold feet on mine in bed and i’d be like WHAT. STOP. i’d kind of want to kick her in the shin. (i may have done this, i’m not actually sure.) everything i said she was like NO. and i felt: oh G-d. this is it. almost 13 years together. five weddings. good times. bad. and…this is how it’s ending. i….can’t even. i just…can’t.

and then she got her period. four days early. and then i got mine. the same damn day. five days early.

i’m blaming the damn acupuncture. even though i love it, i’m blaming it. i’m blaming the friggin moon and the damn  tides. i’m blaming patchouli and everyone that wears it. i’m blaming the indigo girls and anything else that’s gay.

now that i’ve (hopefully!) made you laugh go ahead and vote for lunch at 11:30 in this year’s annual baltimore sun mobbies competition. it’s up for best personal blog. registering to vote takes just moments (moments! literally!) and you can feel good knowing you’ve made a difference in the world. (my world. but still.) then tell your friends to vote. also your mom. and your gram.

p.s. those are the mugs in the picture up top. i told you they were nice!

it’s almost fall: here’s all the sh*t that needs to end.

oh beautiful crunchy fall leaves! what a friggin concept. can we do the damn thing already? damn!

it’s mid september–hence almost fall, my FAVORITE SEASON–and i’m pissed.

i wait ALL YEAR for this time of year. ALL. YEAR. i start listening to the smiths and early REM in, like, mid july, trying to will the season in. i even occasionally bust out the high tops and boots (much to holly’s chagrin) and you know what? i may look a little ridiculous but i do it for fellow fall lovers. i do it for you. and i do it for me.

usually it works BUT NOT THIS YEAR. this year everything is all wrong. it doesn’t friggin feel like fall is coming AT ALL.

here’s all the sh*t that needs to end right now so we can do the damn thing:

the heat.
it’s so damn hot out. what the hell. BRING ME CRISP AIR NOW. i want. to wear. a damn. sweater. what don’t you understand about that? damn!

the humidity.
don’t even get me started on the humidity. how are we supposed to have any DAMN CRUNCHY LEAVES with this humidity? the answer is we can’t. it’s just not right.

the DOGGONE DAMN ICE CREAM TRUCK.
c’mon! put it to rest, man! take that rusty old salmonella-carrying clunker you call an ice cream truck and hide it. then don’t bring it out til spring. stupid ass.

people being annoying. 
ok this is actually all the time. i just felt like bringing it up now. if you’re annoying. like, if you don’t know how to put your damn blinker on when you drive. or you’re not capable of not taking up an entire grocery store aisle with not only your body but your damn cart, then just stay the hell home or else i will be forced to pull out your weave–and if you’re not wearing one i will tape one to your damn head and pull it off–and smack you in the face with it.

the dog poop.
i seriously think there are packs of wild dogs running around baltimore because i swear every time we take a walk one of us is always pushing the other saying WATCH OUT! coming thiiiiis close to stepping on dog poop in the middle of the damn sidewalk and nearly giving each other a heart attack each time. i am just bringing this up now but it needs to stop throughout the year. summer just makes it feel worse. everything feels worse in the damn summer because it is so damn hot.

the yellers.
the drinking as soon as the damn sun comes up? it needs to stop. all day from my (home) office i hear weirdass drunk motherf*ckers shouting and it’s like, people: you may be able to drink like that in the summer but the season’s coming to a close. let’s give it a rest so i can get some work done dammit. pack it in and shut the hell up.

the weirdos.
i swear the heat brings out every last doggone weirdo in the city. GO INSIDE. be weird in your own damn house and stop freaking us all out! jesus.

the heat. 
the humidity.
oh right i already said these but it’s so damn hot i forgot.

i’ll tell you what else is wrong:
the jewish high holidays came earlier than they have in, like, multiple generations (i don’t know how to count a generation and i’m too lazy to google it right now). the last time they fell this early in september it was 1889 or something. obviously i’m failing already because i made a (jewish) new year’s resolution not to curse so much and in this post alone i said “damn” 13 times, “sh*t” twice, “hell” three times, “ass” twice, “dammit” once, and “motherf*ckers” once.

here’s my list if you don’t believe me:
(i starred out the vowels in case, you know, there’s kids reading.)
(and yes, i’m aware my handwriting is quite bad.)

correction: i actually said “damn” 16 times. i did a search for it. 16. oh that’s nice.

actually i just fooled all of you: do you really think i’d make a new year’s resolution not to curse?! that is crazy! i don’t drink. i don’t smoke. this is my only outlet. if i didn’t do it i’d be wreaking havoc on society and my marriage. plus i know i couldn’t keep it and that would be sacrilegious.

ACTUALLY. actually i just added the photo of the leaves at the top of this post and i wrote “damn” twice in the caption. so that’s 18. i thought about not mentioning it but that would be wrong.

so listen. obviously i’m mad. (i really did make a new year’s resolution not to be so damn mad.) (19, oops!) and obviously this will have zero effect on the universe or the earth’s axis or whatever the hell (ok i’m going to stop counting now) controls the seasons but let’s all join hands–no wait. i’m a germaphobe. i don’t want to touch your hand. let’s just get pumpkins. those are available now, right? yeah let’s get some pumpkins and carve them. toast the friggin seeds. throw some salt on ’em. yeah. they’re so good, right?

turn up your a-c (I KNOW IT’S NOT “GREEN” BUT BEAR WITH ME OK) and throw on a sweater. get your boots on. take out your halloween decorations. hell, break out pilgrim desk decorations if you’ve got em. COOK A THANKSGIVING DINNER.

that’s it! cook turkey. cook a damn turkey in your sweater. let’s all do it at the same damn time. i’d help you but i have to go to michael’s now to make a fall wreath. i used to hate fall wreaths but i’m “adult” now and i love them. holla!

f*ck yeah, baltimore.

i took this photo from a sailboat. even though it smells terrible, hot damn i love that doggone sugar plant.

lord knows i’ve had my issues with this city. LORD KNOWS. I HAVE HAD. MY ISSUES. WITH THIS CITY.

for example:

• a rat was living in our dryer vent, hoarding chicken bones and crab shells. after holly cleaned it out, she thought she had “rat fever” from breathing…rat dust? then i had to convince her she didn’t have rat fever. that was really something.
• fighting parking tickets here is nearly impossible. as if that isn’t enough, everyone in the courthouse has the type of body odor that literally makes you feel like you might drop dead.
• if you rent a dumpster for some kind of big home renovation project, everyone and their mom–literally everyone and their mom–will come to your dumpster, morning, noon, and in the middle of the night to drop off refrigerators, carpeting, and cribs. it will be a community event and you will get no rest.
• then other people will come to your dumpster to dig through it and  haul off everyone’s junk. they will always do this in the middle of the night. and they’ll break a lot of glass in the process. cause why bother being careful when you’re already in a dumpster?
• if it snows one inch, everyone puts, like, orange cones and chairs in their parking spots. and if you move a cone or chair, you will get stabbed. (note: please don’t move the cones and chairs. your life is worth more than a parking spot.)
• these ancient little row homes have tiny ancient holes in the wall–invisible to the naked eye–that let in bad odors, like, for example, the smell of dead body next door. the smell will seep into every crevice of your home and your belongings. then you will have a breakdown. then you will spend months trying to get rid of the smell, which will only completely go away when the home is gutted two years later.
• oh yeah. and a rat could get in your house, from like, a bigger hole you never saw behind your stairs. from your late neighbor’s house. right after your basement floods and it will jump in and out of boxes like a sick carnival game. and then you will really lose your mind.
• there’s more but i’ll stop.

yeah. it’s kind of a party here. not like a good party either. no, the type of party where you wake up the next day somewhere missing a heel, your phone screen is cracked like a car windshield that’s been in a horrific accident, and you have raccoon eyes from makeup your best friend did for you the night before that you thought was ok, but now, in the light of day, you actually see was alarmingly sloppy and you immediately decide you will kick her ass the next time you see her.

so it’s a hot mess here. there’s random puffs of weaves on our curb and our alley looks like a thrift shop and a helicopter once temporarily blinded me with its searchlight.

BUT DAMMIT THIS PLACE HAS GROWN ON ME. like a mushroom. or…a wart. at first you don’t even know it’s there. then you see it, hate it, and want to rid yourself of it immediately. and then, as you contemplate wart creams at rite-aid, something strange and miraculous starts happening: you get used to it. and…start liking it a little? because dammit it’s your wart and it’s become part of you. and you could go to the dermatologist to get it removed but why bother?

folks, that’s baltimore for me. over the past seven years, i have cursed this place. i have screamed and shouted and chased cats, rats, and run from our neighbor’s beautiful german shepherd that continues to get loose. i have looked up at the sky, shaken my fist, and shouted WHHHYYYYYY. (really? geez, i’m dramatic.)

i honestly didn’t even know i kind of liked it here until i read this obnoxious dc response to the recent (and newest iteration of the) longtime baltimore vs. dc debate. (for background, first read this, then this.) since then, i have felt oddly protective of this hellhole of a city and i have come up with a list of my own.

mind you, it’s not a baltimore vs. dc list. as baltimore’s city paper points out, the dc vs. baltimore thing is lame. i have lived in both places and they are two distinct, very different animals, each with their own advantages and disadvantages.

my list, aptly named F*CK YEAH BALTIMORE, is a list of reasons how this weirdass city has quietly and successfully wormed its way into my friggin heart. so here we go:

• we may have some sketchyass people walking through our hood, but our neighbors are friggin awesome and we look out for each other and help each other out all the time. i have never experienced anything like it in my life.
• we have a bread factory right splat in the middle of the city. the smell fills your whole damn car up for like three or four blocks. it’s pretty awesome.
• old folks sit out on their stoops in the summer and can tell you what the neighborhood looked like 50 years ago. (you can read about one such old timer here. it’s an article i wrote on the late “mr. john” pente of little italy, who lived in the same one-block radius for 100 years–his entire life.)
• carolers on your front stoop. really? yes, really!
• big boyz bail bonds pens. they’re everywhere. and surprisingly good pens! gotta laugh or you’ll cry your eyes out.
• formstone. also everywhere.
• corner bars. yes, everywhere. go twice and you’re a regular.
• playing bingo at the sons of italy lodge in little italy. 25 cents a card. i’ll take four, thanks!
• speaking of italian, this place right here. dipasquale’s italian marketplace. best tiramisu (and everything else) you’ve ever had in your life. if that’s not enough, the owner, joe, is a huge madonna fan. and adorable ladies like this might be lunching there. come to our neighborhood, we’ll take you there.
• speaking of food, this is best damn greek food you’ll ever have in your life. cash only, no reservations. get there early, and whatever you do, you must try the dressing.
• sure, there’s blight here. but it’s beautiful in its own way.
• and our little old ladies have some serious spunk.
• you can take a free boat to the office and get a photo like this on the way home.
• you can go out in your pajamas and no one looks at you like you’re crazy. and you know what? even in your pajamas, you’re still hotter than about 85% of the people here.
• we are not cooler than you. baltimore is not one of those places with a reputation for being hip or cool. in fact, it’s kind of uncool. and you know what? that makes it kind of cool.

so there’s my working F*CK YEAH BALTIMORE list. have your own f*ck yeah baltimore? please share!

see, this place is MY WART. it’s my hot mess of a party. and if you’re gonna be dissin it, get ‘cho ass down here to southeast (SOUF-EAST) and tell it to my FACE. yeah that’s what i thought. PEACE OUT YO.

(p.s. i’ve never had a wart.)
(but i’m probably going to get one now because i wrote this. and i’ll tell you what: screw the wart cream at rite-aid, i am going straight to the dermatologist to burn that sh*t off.)

holly, i’m sorry i told you to buy those sweatpants in petite

as a spouse/significant other, you are depended upon for both a) tasks and b) opinions.  in our household, one of my tasks is that i make the coffee because you’re so good at it, holly says, batting her eyelashes. (i need to note here that she’s actually pretty good at making it, too, but she’d rather i’d do it, which is totally fine, as i’d rather her take the recycling and trash out to the black hole that is our alley.)

anyway, sometime within the past six months or so we were perusing our local jcpenny’s–wait, no: JAYCEEPEE–perusing the aisles of our local JCP, when she stumbled across a pair of particularly comfy looking grey sweatpants.

ooooh these are nice, she said.

yeah, i said. nice.

now, you may or may not recall this, but i’m not much of a shopper. it’s like, the “gayest” thing about me (besides, you know, the obvious). i mean, i love a trip to target, but at least there i can make a quick getaway into the greeting cards/ cleaning products/make-up aisle to get away from all the clothes.

holly loves to shop. oh she loooooves to shop. (“i DO NOT love to shop,” she just said. whatever, she likes to. i don’t care what she says.) and she loves to get my damn opinion on everything. so that’s the context here. as i was saying:

do you think i should get them in a regular or petite? she asks me as i walk behind her, distracted and instagramming (is that a verb? i’m making it a verb.)

you’re small. get a petite, i say. otherwise you’re gonna havta get em hemmed and that costs as much as the pants. 

so i should get the petite?

yeah, get the petite.

ok, i’ll get the petite.

great, can we leave now?

no, not yet, i want to look in the kitchen section. where’s the escalator?

at which point i groaned and we had our usual but-i-don’t-want-to/pipe-down-babe-it’ll-just-be-a-minute,-if-you-want-me-to-cook-for-you-i-need-kitchen-tools exchange.

after a couple of washes the pants shrunk. holly noticed first. i looked up from words with friends and agreed that yeah, they were a little on the short side.

now, weeks later, i see that they’re actually not just a little short, they’re painfully short. she likes to wear them, because they’re a great color and they are indeed comfortable, but, like an inside voice or an inside cat, they are inside pants. she’ll occasionally wear them for a walk to the park and immediately regret it, saying she feels like rocky balboa (see below).

rocky balboa’s short pants in the first rocky movie. i guess it was ok because it was the 80s? anyway, holly’s aren’t quite as short, but it’s close. it’s really close.

anyway, now i feel kind of guilty. even though i laugh and call her “short pants,” i really do feel bad. she depended on me for input and i lead her astray. she should have never gotten the petite. babe, i should have never told you to get the petite. i’m sorry and i love you, even in your short pants. especially in your short pants.

i’m also sorry i was accidentally making you caffeinated coffee instead of decaf for like a week last month and you kept feeling anxious and we didn’t know why. i didn’t properly label the ground bulk coffee we got at whole foods. completely my fault. it was my task and i failed. i’ll take the trash and recycling out to make up for it. wait no. i can’t because i’m scared of our alley. but i love you and i’ll be more careful from here on out.

in other news: we’re getting MARRIED this weekend. THIS TIME RIGHT HERE IN OUR HOME STATE OF MARYLAND! on st. patty’s day (sunday!), the three-year anniversary of our first legal wedding in dc.

it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. we ran over to the baltimore city courthouse earlier this week and were like HOLLA! we’re here to get our marriage license! (well, we didn’t say “holla” but we could’ve) and the lady was like HOLLA! here it is! (well, no, not really but she was nice). anyway, the rabbi that married us the first time will do it again, except this time she’ll be able to sign a license. full circle right? and this time in jeans! (if you’re new to this blog and you’d like to read about our nuptial adventures–and oh, we’ve had many–in one fell swoop, check out this essay i wrote for the current issue of baltimore bride.)

until then, folks, take your spousal/significant other-ly duties seriously! if your partner’s pants seem too short, for crying out loud, pay attention and speak up. and if s/he can’t process caffeine, don’t confuse the bags. you know it can only end badly.

THAT SH*T’S F**KED UP: downton abbey season 3 finale

the original cast beverly hills 90210 in mom jeans. i know this is a post about downton abbey but bear with me here.

let me tell you a story:

back in the day, back in jersey, in the 90s, i was a big 90210 fan with equally big hair. BIG fan. HUGE hair. i loved that show with every fiber of my being. i even had a 90210 poster (reminiscent of the photo above except they were on a beach. cut me some slack, i was in seventh grade.)

anyway, everything was going ok but then everything changed: brenda “moved away.” tiffani amber thiessen from “saved by the bell” came on the show, which was totally disorienting. someone bought a nightclub. everything got all mucked up and confusing and stupid. the show totally lost me so i stopped watching and moved on.

that was sunday night’s downton abbey season finale. the writers should probably just go ahead and write in a part for tiffani amber thiessen now. lord stupid grantham should probably turn the library into a gay dance club. jan brady edith should “move away.” because i’m not watching anymore.

some thoughts:

so apparently some people knew that matthew was going to die. yeah i wasn’t one of those people. i was pretty  horrified.

as matthew lay DEAD under his convertible with his eyes freakishly open and his mouth dripping with blood, i decided that downton abbey sucks like all other soap operas. it just seems high-class because everyone has english accents, but at it’s core, it’s an overly dramatic soap opera that i can’t bear to watch.

RIP downton abbey. it was fun while it lasted.

additional thoughts:

BITCH BETTER STAY AWAY FROM TOM. the guy just lost his wife and has a little baby! people are sick. i can’t even deal.

why the F*CK would anyone ask O’BRIEN for advice on HAIR? just look at her! if i ever see that woman i’m gonna elbow her in the mouth.

that was a noble thing of thomas to do but damn it was dumb. BOY NOTHING YOU DO WILL MAKE WHASSISFACE WANT TO GET WITH YOU. YOU HAVE GONE SO LONG WITHOUT ANY ACTION YOU’RE ACTUALLY DELUSIONAL AT THIS POINT.

c’mon mrs. patmore. did you really want to go out with that guy? i don’t think so. you and thomas need to go manhunting together. you’ve been in the kitchen too long. you need some air.

i can’t believe that guy’s nickname was shrimpy. shrimpy? really?

yeah even i know not to sit on the damn couches upstairs and i don’t even work at downton.

molesley. still an idiot.

rose‘s hair: still really bad.

everyone was wearing headbands. what was that about?

PLEASE PLEASE  PLEASE GIVE EDITH A MAN HER OWN AGE.

finally, mary. of course she doesn’t even gain one pound while pregnant. i’m about ready to force feed that biznatch a burger, fries, and a milkshake. her friggin braid probably weighs more than she does! sigh. i miss sybil. she was the only normal one.

lastly, i’m not live tweeting anymore, at least not with this show. hot damn. it’s hard enough to follow the damn plot, let alone understand what they’re saying. sometimes i wonder if they’re even speaking english! would it kill all of you to speak slower??

in conclusion: i’ve had about enough. i don’t know if time will heal my pain or what. but i’m done for now. i need to start reading spoilers so i’m not so damn shocked at these sorts of things anymore because i just don’t have the emotional wherewithal to deal. i really don’t.

(ok i just looked at that photo again: DAMN THEIR JEANS WERE SO HIGH!)

thomas needs a boyfriend & mr. carson’s gay: downtown abbey, season 3, episode 6

THIS MAN NEEDS A BOYFRIEND.

after sunday night’s epic two-hour episode of downtown abbey (season 3, episode 6), i think it’s safe to say two things: that thomas may never, ever leave and mr. carson is, in fact, a closeted homosexual.

it’s also safe to say that no one actually cares about “the business of downton.” (ok, holly  just told me she cares, but she’s the only one.) it’s a boring plot line! all we care about is gossip! i don’t think i speak just for myself when i say that i actually kind of wanted thomas and whassisface to kiss. i’m sure it would be a much more exciting kiss than any other kiss that’s ever happened in the entire series, certainly more exciting than the dry-mouth cousin kissing between mary and matthew–but i’ll get to that in a sec.

look, the bottom line is that thomas needs a boyfriend and he needs one fast. if he doesn’t get a little action, he’s going off the rails on the crazy train and it’s not gonna be pretty.

other thoughts:

mr. carson is obviously a self-loathing homosexual most likely attracted to thomas. his very loud proclamations that thomas’ gayness is both “revolting” and “foul” are simply to cover up his true feelings, which are strong yet tender and obviously eating him alive.

about bates:
bates seems to annoy me less when he’s clean-shaven but he’s still pretty annoying. i totally forgot about his gimpy leg until he was standing outside the prison with his cane. did they take away his cane in prison? how did he even get around? i have no idea.

mary/matthew:
i’m getting increasingly uncomfortable watching mary and matthew kiss on their bed. it seems wrong on many levels. i just keep thinking, stop touching each other! you’re cousins dammit!  i’m really not interested in seeing anything even remotely resembling their sex lives. i’m not even comfortable seeing mary in her nightgown.

also: considering the crudeness of early 20th-century medicine, how did mary get away with having secret gynecological surgery? wouldn’t she need a long time to recover? why couldn’t they tell each other they were going to the doctor? why is it such a secret? and how could they go to the same reproductive doctor? that seems weird.

lord grantam, friend of the gays:
i was going to start off this post by saying that the only living organism that actually cares for/can stand to be around lord grantham is his cute yellow lab, whose butt and wagging tail we see in the first moments of the opening credits. (that dog needs more airtime.) but seeing how he’s proven to be an early 20th-century LGBT ally, how can i hate him? i just can’t justify hating him anymore.

DAMN THIS SHOW. i swear, i’m up, i’m down, i don’t even know what i’m feeling anymore! the thing about downton abbey is just when you think you kind of hate someone something happens and you kind of start liking that person again, or at least start feeling sympathetic towards him or her.

for example, i’ve spent all three seasons disliking thomas to the point of wanting to elbow him in the mouth. but, as a fellow gay and human being, i actually feel bad for the guy. not bad enough that he should get a promotion. but pretty damn bad. i’m sure i’ll start hating him again soon enough.

closing thoughts:

like thomas, edith needs a man. but not one that’s like, old. or one that’s married and can’t get divorced. even though he’s her boss, i’m glad that editor told her she looked pretty. everyone needs a compliment now and then. even edith.

mrs. hughes is the unsung hero of the whole damn show. i do love me some mrs. hughes.

molesley‘s still a huge dork. i knew he couldn’t play cricket! idiot.

o’brien’s nephew, whassis face (or as i like to call him The One That’s So Pale His Eyebrows Actually Disappear), he’s a pain in my ass. he can bite it. i bet he’s gay, too.

class discussion questions:

1. why was the priest that christened the baby so pale? 
2. the new girl, rose? did she mean for her hair to look like that? it looked really bad.
3. why was the episode two hours? that was a pleasant yet disorienting surprise.
4. have you noticed the more upset thomas gets, the more he looks like a vampire. GET HIM A BOYFRIEND OR EVERYONE WILL SUFFER!
5. will i ever stop accidentally calling the show “downtown” abbey? (highly unlikely.)

come back next week for more edge-of-your-seat, horribly inappropriate commentary on the (gasp!) season finale. (previous commentary is here and here.)

CHEERIOS! CORNFLAKES! RAISIN BRAN! CHEERIO!

lord grantham’s an ass & other thoughts on downton abbey, season 3, episode 5

the sisters of downton abbey: edith (jan brady), mary (marsha brady), and the (sob!) late sybil (the sexy one).

seeing how i mostly watch bad reality tv and golden girls reruns,  you were probably filled with a mix of fear and delight when i provided commentary on the pbs series downton abbey last month, where i proclaimed that thomas must go, o’brien must go, sybil is the hottest sister, mary is marsha brady, edith is jan brady, and the turkish guy was hot, even when dead.

(if you missed that post, you can read it here.)

now that holly and i are up to date on the current season, i’m back to provide even more commentary, some of which, i’m sure, will make you want to pull out my weave (not wearing one, but still) and/or cut me. let’s begin:

lord grantham is an ass. i can’t even stand looking at his face anymore. all his decisions are bad. he says all the wrong things. he’s haughty and classist and he needs to smile more. i thought i had problems with him when he made the wrong decision about sybil (oh i’ll get to poor sybil in a minute), but when he tried to get all the girls to leave whassername’s house because the ex-prostitute who’s trying to get her life back together cooked them lunch, well that just pushed me over the edge.  what makes you so great anyway, ROBERT? you wouldn’t have a dime without your wife, ya gold digger! and you’d still have nothing if your cousin MATTHEW didn’t give you his inheritance from his dead ex-fiance since you lost all your wife’s money! stupid ass!

next up: lady sybil. oh my goodness sybil. i can’t even. i can’t…i can barely even talk about this. i can’t believe she’s gone. i can’t believe the writer’s killed her. i was absolutely shocked. i told holly, sobbing, that i didn’t think i could even watch the show anymore, and that this is why i don’t watch shows like this, i don’t have the emotional wherewithal to do it. i still cry every time i see the very last golden girls episode! the one where dorothy marries that guy and leaves the house? omG. real tears. every time. i can’t discuss lady sybil anymore, it’s too painful so i’m moving on.

mr. bates. kind of tired of him. i’m glad they got that lady to tell the truth because i was beginning to think he did it. but whatever. i like anna, and the house does need some serious cheering up. so at least there’s that. (but i am tired of his face and his stoic quietness. it’s like: speak up dude! i can’t even hear you.)

o’brien’s still a bitch and she still killed cora’s unborn child, but at least she’s setting thomas up for a fall however she still needs to go.

and while i’m mentioning thomas, let’s talk a little about mr. barrow, shall we? (oh i’m suddenly sounding british! you see how smart you get watching pbs??) thomas is an ass, too. but unlike stupid lord grantham, who’s just stupid and haughty, thomas is actually evil. i’m still trying to figure out how he hasn’t gotten fired yet! he keeps creeping his creepy way back in. but i guess they need him for storylines. anyway, i hate that he’s the lone gay. of course he’s evil, right? and of course he likes the hunky new guy, whassis face. thomas, ever heard of GAYDAR, ya moron??? whassis face DOESN’T LIKE YOU. not only that, he’s going to tell on your gay ass and get you fired!

also: mr. carson, the butler, needs to get a friggin grip. take the pole out of your ass and change with the times, dude! not to mention have a heart because you’re really starting to act downright mean. plus he’s nosy. i’ve kind of had it with him. i’ve also had it with mr. mosely. he’s so annoying he doesn’t even deserve his own paragraph.

other thoughts:

i’m glad they’re strengthening daisy’s character. i really like daisy. she’s being pretty mean to the new kitchen girl but i don’t blame her. (stop flirting with o’brien’s nephew (i forget his name) and do your job!) i also love the relationship between her and william’s father. finally someone’s being nice to that girl!

i’m  also starting to feel a little bad for edith. let the girl write in the friggin newspaper! plus she has to eat breakfast with the grumpy men while her sister and mother get breakfast in bed because they’re married. what ridiculousness is this? at least matthew has her back.

finally, ethel. poor ethel. i know i know. she shouldn’t have messed around with that assh*le general but she did and got pregnant and such is life. but man, what a bum deal she’s gotten. mrs. crawley is the only one that even gives her a chance. even though she seems kind of grumpy sometimes, mrs. crawley has wormed her way into my heart with that one.

i’ll finish things up with some thoughts on grandmama, i.e. violet, dowager countess of grantham. not only is she pretty much the only comic relief in the entire show, but how’d she get so doggone old? seems like life was really a crapshoot back then, anything would kill you. they barely even had antibiotics. they gave milk for fevers. (barf.) girlfriend has seen a lot in her years. all in all  she’s quite fabulous and i’m sure she has a huge gay following.

class discussion questions:

1. do you think daisy will accept william’s father’s offer to move to the farm?
2. will mr. bates finally punch thomas in the face upon his return? will he start speaking a little louder so we can actually hear him? 
3. will edith find a man to marry despite her jan brady-ness and history of being a bee-otch?
4. would thomas be nicer if he found a boyfriend?
5. will i ever understand what the prison guards are saying? (probably not.)

until next time! CHEERIOS! CHEERIO!