where do all my hairbands go?

one thing holly always gets on my case about is hairbands. not that i use them, but that i’m constantly restocking them. it’s very irritating because what she doesn’t understand is that i can’t find any of them, ever.

i could seriously have like one million hairbands—yes one million—and i wouldn’t be able to find a single one. not a single one. that would happen to me. it would.

like small no-show socks that get eaten in the dryer (actually, i bet it’s the washer), it’s a complete mystery to me where in the hell my hairbands go. true, if i clean out my purse at any given moment, i may find, say…5 to 10, depending on the size of my purse. however i never ever find any of them when i need them, so i go without in the car when holly has the windows down on the highway and we arrive at our destination with me looking like bridget jones does in the first movie when she and hugh grant check in at that hotel. you know the scene.

why, no, i actually couldn’t find a hairband in the car. and yes, the windows were open. why do you ask?

i actually find it pretty annoying that holly complains when we’re walking in target and i covertly grab a pack (SHE ALWAYS SEES ME. THIS IS THE PROBLEM WITH HAVING A SPOUSE THAT IS ROUGHLY ONE-TWELFTH NATIVE AMERICAN. SHE HAS SUPERSONIC SENSES AND SEES AND HEARS *EVERYTHING*) and she sighs and says BABE MORE HAIRBANDS? and i’m like YES BABE. MORE HAIRBANDS. i don’t care if people stare because i’m shrieking in target. she has short hair. she’ll never understand the plight of people that need an excessive amount of black hairbands because they can never find any. one day they’ll find the mysterious cause of missing hairbands and then she’ll apologize because it wasn’t actually my fault.

it’s annoying how she complains about things she’ll never understand. unless she grows her hair out, which she’ll never do, despite my pleading that she’d look soooo cute with a headband. (she has a beautiful forehead! an artfully selected headband would only highlight this fact.) but no. instead she takes me to home depot and lowes, which i hate. the moment we walk in i swear i feel like falling asleep. right where i am. in the plumbing aisle while she looks at metal pipes to build things with. on the concrete floor. right there. on my feet. or curled up in a ball on the floor.

we were in home depot last week, in that damn plumbing aisle, and i was like, doesn’t this place have any CHAIRS for people like ME who HATE IT HERE? they have chairs near dressing rooms for men and other people that loathe shopping but must endure a loved one trying on clothes. i mean, it doesn’t even need to be a cushioned chair. i’ll take a FOLDING CHAIR, for crying out loud. i know you sell them here! friggin put out a folding chair! damn!

at least in ikea i can escape into one of those make-pretend living rooms and sit on a futon. or hang out in the cafe and eat swedish delicacies or at least have a cone and a cup of decaf from the snack bar. but home depot and lowes, man, there’s just no escape. so i usually act out until holly sighs and says, “ok fine. let’s go.” once we get in the car, my entire body relaxes and i suddenly feel quite rejuvenated. but my rejuvenation is typically replaced by guilt because i know she wanted to stay. so instead i suggest we get some gelato so we both can feel better. and that’s what’s called emotional eating. the end.

i just noticed i’m a paper bag hoarder.

in my quest to be environmentally friendly and lower my carbon footprint, i save all the paper bags from all the environmentally friendly supermarkets we shop at, namely whole foods and mom’s organic market.

i get so excited about these bags thinking YES. YES I WILL MAKE PAPER BAG FALL FOLIAGE AND MACRAMÉ OUT OF THESE. then i immediately think: no, no i won’t. i’ll buy fake fall foliage from michael’s that’s probably made in china, and macramé, which i just looked up, is actually knitting with knots, which sounds kind of cool, but has nothing to do with paper bags.

no, what i actually think will happen is that i’ll reuse these bags, responsibly and carefully bringing them back to these supermarkets, casually telling the moderately friendly cashier, oh! i actually brought my own bags today so i won’t be needing new ones. i will pretend not to care that she forgets to give me 5 to 10 cents off (depending on the supermarket) for each bag that i brought, because in the end, i’m doing my part to save the environment, right? who needs 1o cents off my bill for each bag i bring? (I DO DAMMIT. LADY GIVE ME MY DISCOUNT.) ahem.

anyway, here’s what actually happens: i forget to bring back the damn bags. and instead bring back MORE paper bags each time i shop. and they pile up in our laundry area until the extra-large non-supermarket paper bag that’s holding them all is actually about to burst. and then, when i can’t possibly fit another one in, i think: oh. i’m actually a paper bag hoarder. and i won’t be satisfied until every last inch of our home is filled with paper bags, so many that i won’t even be able to find my own spouse.

HOLLY! i’ll shout, when this day inevitably arrives, panicked, swimming through the paper bags like it’s a giant, adult-sized, environmentally friendly ball pit. HONEY WHERE ARE YOU. GIVE ME A SIGN THAT YOU CAN HEAR ME.

and i’ll hear a small, soft voice–and crinkling–from somewhere in the house (i won’t know where because the sound is so muffled from all the paper) saying, out of breath from the effort of shouting through piles and piles of densely packed paper bags–honey! over here! i told you. to start. bringing. the bags. back. 

i’ll hang my head in shame. except for i can’t even hang it. there’s too many bags. so i’ll just place my chin on a pile and weep. i won’t even have to wipe my eyes because my tears will flow directly into the highly absorbent bags made from 80% post-consumer waste.

OK NO. what actually happens is that i use these bags as recycling receptacles and to bring snacks on long car rides. but unless we start running some sort of after school program, there will never be enough recycling to fill all these bags. and there’s just not enough long car rides. so what’s happened is that i’ve now accumulated (i counted them yesterday)…43 paper bags. FORTY-THREE. PAPER BAGS. who needs that many paper bags? no one! only supermarkets!

my favorite part is that i actually save all these small paper bags. you know, the cute ones? thinking: i’ll pack my lunch in this! yes! i’ll reuse it and pack my organic lunch in it! but no! DUH, i work from home! so i’ll carry something in it, i think. YES! something artisanal. and i will hand whatever it is (dark chocolate, probably, or some kind of sheep’s milk cheese or an annoying IPA beer) to a hipster guy with a beard, who will reuse this little bag until holes begin to form in it and then he and his bearded friends will compost it while wearing fitted plaid shirts to grow, i don’t know, lima beans or pumpkins or something and make aioli out of them.

NO. you know what happens with these little artisanal paper bags? THEY GO IN THE RECYCLING. in fact, i recycle them in the large bags that i fill with all the other recyclables each week. so now i actually have paper bags within paper bags within paper bags (if they’re double bagged, which about half of them are).

PLEASE TELL ME I’M NOT THE ONLY PAPER BAG HOARDER OUT THERE. PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS OF THINGS TO DO WITH THEM SO I DON’T WIND UP ON THAT TLC SHOW. I DON’T WANT AN INTERVENTION. I’M JUST A FORGETFUL PERSON THAT WANTS TO HELP SAVE THE EARTH. AND DON’T TELL ME TO GET THOSE REUSABLE BAGS. I FORGET TO BRING THEM, TOO. I HAVE LIKE 10 OF THEM, SOME OF WHICH ARE NOW HOLDING PAPER BAGS.

an actual photo of my paper bag collection. there’s more but they couldn’t fit in the shot. do you want some? i’ll send them to you. maybe we should just get a fire pit and use them as kindling. we could turn off our heat and stay warm by the fire. we could also cook meat over the fire. reduce. reuse. recycle.

this is how you load a dishwasher

i know all you think i do is write things and smacktalk and pull out weaves and throw them in the tree pit outside our house (to be fair, i actually only regularly do 2 of those 3 things; really need to put smacktalk higher on the list!), but i actually do housework, too.

to tell you the truth, when i put my mind to it, i actually excel at housework. one of the things i excel at is loading, then successfully running, the dishwasher. so i figured: why not give a primer to my readers about how to load a dishwasher?

ok, so here we go:

1. use environmentally friendly dishwasher detergent or pods or whatever!
i mean, C’MON! don’t be ignorant! my favorite are these method dishwasher tabs. get them in pink grapefruit, then text me immediately after you use them and tell me what you think. they’re really good.

2. the tiniest bit of mashed potatoes will ruin everything.
don’t learn this the hard way. I KEEP LEARNING THIS THE HARD WAY. even, like, a little chunk of potato clandestinely stuck to the bottom of a plate will ruin all your hard work. this goes for any kind of potato. ANY KIND. they will break down in the damn dishwasher, then spread to many many different dishes, including the inside of your favorite coffee mug, then DRY ON THERE, refusing to budge, ever. you will have to soak them, while cursing silently under your breath that eating any kind of potato is just not worth all the hassle, you will stick to mashed cauliflower, because, really, at the end of the day, it’s way lower in carbs and much easier to clean.

3. OMG EGGS.
eggs are the silent enemy of the dishwasher. do you check for ticks? like, after you get out of the woods or whatever? OKAY GOOD. now apply that thinking to eggs on plates. CHECK FOR EGG. like potatoes, EVEN THE TINIEST BIT OF EGG WILL MAKE ALL OF YOUR DISHES SMELL LIKE A WET DOG. IT WILL MAKE YOUR DISHWASHER SMELL LIKE WET DOG, TOO. AND YOUR ENTIRE KITCHEN IF YOU OPEN UP THE DISHWASHER WHILE IT’S STILL RUNNING BECAUSE YOU FORGOT TO PUT IN THAT DAMN SPATULA. (it’s always the spatula! ALWAYS.) this is especially necessary if you enjoy over-easy eggs, which we do, because, hello, it’s the best kind of egg. but the yolk? omg. get that damn yellow yolk film off your plates before you put them in or you will be hit with the smell of fido freshly in from a rainstorm every time you reach for a dish. and when you try to find a dish that doesn’t smell like wet dog, you won’t find one. then you’ll have to run the damn dishwasher over again and you will shake your fist at the sky and shout WHY.

4. get creative!
so once you get the lay of the land in your dishwasher, as in: if you put this big plate in over there then the spinny thin up top won’t spin, feel free to get creative. THERE ARE NO RULES IN DISHWASHER LOADING. okay, so there are actually some rules. like, some things say “top rack only” and that’s usually good advice to follow. but other than that, go for it! got a little space between all those glasses up top? good! throw a friggin spatula in there! (yes! the one you forgot to load!) put a mug on the bottom rack. shove things into every little crevice because a) it ultimately saves water, which helps our ecosystem, especially if you’re using environmentally friendly dish detergent (see #1), b) it’s fun and c) you will feel an unexpected sense of accomplishment.

5. i will beat you at loading the dishwasher.
i am not a competitive person in the least. (well, except for bocci ball, because i am italian-american by osmosis.) but hot damn, IF THERE IS ROOM IN THE DISHWASHER, I WILL FIND IT. i will find it and put something there and it will be clean in 90 minutes. are there dishwasher loading competitions? OMG ARE THERE? because i will WIN.

OMG WHAT. (note: not our dog but sure is cute!) (also: this is not an acceptable way to get potatoes and egg off your dishes before you run the dishwasher. don’t be lazy! STOP WATCHING BRAVO AND RINSE THE DAMN DISHES. a little rinsing goes a long way.)

i want to go hunting but i don’t want to kill animals or shoot a gun.

ever since i wrote about “hunting gear” a couple years ago, i’ve been on this kick that i really want to hunt except for: a) i don’t want to actually kill an animal or b) shoot a gun.

shooting a big furry animal? one that’s cute? (and let’s face it: they’re all cute. even the ones that want to eat your face.)  i just couldn’t do it. i’ve also learned that when hunting, you need to drag the dead animal back to your car, then at some point, gut it. which, no. please, i can barely make a meatloaf!

i also don’t like shooting guns, because they’re a) loud b) dangerous and c) have kickback. and i try to avoid all loud, dangerous things, especially those that might wind up tossing my body like a beanbag. (hah, that was a funny visual.)

so i guess what i actually want to do is wear cool hunting clothes while hiding out in the woods looking at animals.

is there a name for this activity? because it’s definitely not hunting.

i think what might be a good solution is to take a moderately short hike in camo and hunting-appropriate boots, stop in the prettiest spot, and watch animals in their natural habitat while i picnic on a variety of forest-appropriate snacks, including but not limited to fresh fruit, sheep or goat’s milk cheese, and/or a selection of meats that don’t need to be heated. and pumpkin seeds. oh, and tea, from, like, a stainless steel thermos that keeps it really really hot for hours, because, really, who knows how long i’ll be out there? OH AND CHOCOLATE. DARK CHOCOLATE. mmmm.

other items to pack:
-a blanket
-matches (in case i need to make a fire, which, how do you make a fire? whatever, i’ll figure it out.)
-a tent (in case it rains)
-one of those wind-up lights that’s also a radio and a cell phone charger
-S.O.S. flares (in case of emergency)
-bear spray
-a knife (don’t ask; this just feels like something i should have)
-first aid kit

ok, i guess what actually want to do is to go camping, in which case i’m going to need one of those portable camping stoves. and some kind of stove top coffee pot. breakfast foods. canned beans. things like that. OH WAIT: BUG SPRAY. but without chemicals. natural bug spray.

this is turning into kind of an ordeal. maybe i should just go fishing. except i don’t want to bait the hook or touch any fish. so i guess what i actually want to do is sit in a boat or stand on a pier all day, catch and reel in a fish, and basically make someone else do all the gross stuff. (note: i have actually found someone to do this for me!)

so yeah. that’s actually all i wanted to tell you. how’s your summer been? mine’s been a little on the crappy side (hence not posting much). HOWEVER (however!) i’m thrilled to tell you that I HAVE COMPLETED MY E-BOOK, “THAT’S NOT A KITTEN, IT’S A RAT,” AND IT WILL SOON BE AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF $2.99.

the gist of this e-book is that it’s actually a mini e-book (hence the reasonable price), designed to be read in one hour or less. it contains lots of what i call dvd extras for regular readers (like how i unknowingly peed my pants in kindergarten while listening to phonics records in my elementary school library) but also tries to reel people in that haven’t made it to this blog yet with tales of eddie the rat and the bottomless abyss that is my bag.

BONUS: if you’re somewhat local i am willing to come to your book club (yes! your book club!) to answer questions, or, you know, just to eat your food and talk trash with you and your friends. i will also bring HOLLY, whom, as you all know, is the real hero of this blog in that she is endlessly patient with me as i talk/complain about her and spill our business on the internet. (LOVE YOU, HONEY!)

trust me, i will let you all know the moment it’s available for download. in the meantime, does anyone want to sit and watch animals in the woods with me? make sure you wear camo. i’ll bring the forest snacks and the bear spray.

I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE THROAT (OUR CLEANSE: DAY 2)

i blogged yesterday about our friggin cleanse. here’s the rest of what happened. warning: this post may give you a rash.

DAY 2, CONTINUED

12:30pm had a small portion of quinoa, lentils & cubed sweet potatoes for lunch: MOST AMAZING THING I EVER ATE IN MY LIFE.
1:45pm weird tingly sensation in my forehead.
2pm OMG AM I GETTING A RASH? false alarm
3:45pm holly is extremely grumpy. obviously buckling under the pressure. leave me alone until you feel better or else i’m going to punch you in the throat, i tell her. she leaves for an appointment and comes back even grumpier. says she smelled pizza on the way home.
7pm we do a weird vegan, grainless, and everything else-less italian meal that fails miserably. i try my hand at eggplant for the first time and ruin it. holly eats a single stuffed mushroom. she tries to eat another but spits it out in the trash.
9:30pm-ish bad experience in the bathroom. don’t want to talk about it.
11:36pm in bed i think i smell fresh air-popped popcorn but there’s no popcorn. great, now i’m hallucinating.

do you have a rash now? i think i’m getting one again. also: the inside of my mouth felt itchy yesterday. WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME.

if i don’t post again within two to three days, please call some kind of emergency responder.

LORD HELP US WE’RE DOING A CLEANSE (DAY 1: OMG)

so holly finally got the go-ahead from our acupuncturist to do this food-based cleanse she’s been bugging her about for, like, the past year and a half. as in: holly’s been bugging our acupuncturist, not the other way around, to do the cleanse. who even does that?

and of course i have to go down with the ship and do it, too, because we’re married, blah blah blah. i have to support her, etc. etc. etc. plus i know it will be good for me.

here’s the basics of the cleanse:

it’s food-based, not that weird-ass one people were doing a while ago where you drink, like, maple syrup lemon water with cayenne pepper for however many days. (what the hell was that all about anyway? ew.) so yeah, it’s organic vegetables and fruits only (not even beans even. i know. WTF.) (though, randomly, we can have very limited amounts of lentils, sweet potato, and quinoa; don’t ask me, i have no idea) for the first seven days, supplemented by smoothies featuring an organic powder that has protein and various organic green veggies, roots, and who the hell knows what else. mine is non-dairy. holly’s has whey in it. there are weird fiber pills to take, too. these are details you probably don’t care about so i’ll stop.

for weeks 2 and 3 you can add proteins one at a time. chicken, fish, lean beef, eggs. then grains and i guess dairy? i don’t know. holly read the book. i’m too hungry to read it.

here’s why we’re doing the cleanse:

-to rid our bodies of toxins, which hello, we live in baltimore and i found out that the iconic smokestack next to I-95 is actually a giant garbage incinerator.
-maybe find a food-related trigger for my ongoing migraines.
-get my blood-sugar evened out/jewish pancreas a break so i don’t wind up with diabetes.
-lose weight, i.e. i’d like to see the real shape of my face again, especially my chin, because i’m tired of making selfie faces in the mirror so i can see my cheekbones.
-change our eating patterns/habits.
-other reasons i can’t remember.

anyway, i’ve decided i’m going to chronicle how i’m feeling every day. as a record for future generations. or, you know, a last will & testament.

i was too weak and angry to write yesterday so this is actually day 2. however, i did take some notes yesterday about how i was feeling. but then i started feeling so bad i couldn’t take notes anymore. here they are in no particular order:

DAY 1
head hurts.
very hungry, feeling angry and emotional. can’t concentrate.
peeing a lot.
probably shouldn’t have driven to safeway.
if i got stranded on a desert island, i’d definitely die from low blood-sugar or some kind of organ failure.
hate all people.
omg pain behind my right eyeball.
don’t talk to me.
don’t look at me.

DAY 2
i don’t want any more portobella mushrooms ever.
eyeballs feel sore.
unable to focus on what holly’s saying. oh wait she’s telling me that’s me every day anyway. whatever, it’s worse than usual.
the pills (10 total, 3 times a day) taste like black licorice and i almost threw all of them up.
had a salad at 10am. omg who are we???? i don’t even know who i am anymore.

jamie g. did the cleanse and she just texted that “if we can make it through the next couple days” we’re going to “feel a beautiful light energetic happiness high.” this is hopeful though i hope i don’t get divorced by then. if you don’t hear from me in two days send the police.

there’s a hole in the ozone above where i do my hair

so now that it’s may in baltimore, two things are certain:

1) i will be sweating until early to mid october. possibly til halloween, depending on weather patterns.

2) my hair is now huge, only to get huger, unless i press no less than 400-425 degrees of searing heat directly against it, taking down baltimore’s power grid in the process and creating a hole in the ozone directly above our house.

this is compounded by the fact that i’ve started to go to the gym again, to “lose weight for the summer,” (LOL) seeing how it’s may 15th and i like to plan in advance and all. 10 minutes on the damn stairmaster this morning and my DIY blowout is shot to hell. totally going to have to do it again now. totally going to get carpal tunnel, which, whatever. you know i’m going to get it anyway because i’m a writer. might as well have nice hair while i’m sitting here in my home office where no one can see me (except holly, who somehow loves me no matter what my hair looks like, even on exceptionally large hair days that make her eyes wide with alarm as she whispers babe, your hair is really big today. bless her).

in other news: holly’s semester’s almost over and OMG THANK GOODNESS I’M SO HUNGRY I’VE BEEN HUNGRY SINCE THE FALL OMG BABY PLEASE START COOKING FOR ME AGAIIIIIN. no but seriously: this year’s been an emotional roller coaster! now i see why getting your mba is such a friggin big deal. it’s hard. it’s hard on spouses, too!

it’s like holly’s school stress travels into me through osmosis or something. i’m not taking econ BUT I FEEL LIKE I’M TAKING ECON. please! i don’t want to know about econ! like all good journalists/ex-journalists/copywriters, i pride myself in becoming an expert in confusing fields completely foreign/uninteresting to me, writing an article or website about said field(s), then promptly forgetting everything like it never even happened. don’t tell me about your econ class, holly, unless i’m writing web content/email marketing copy/a script/etc. on the life of an mba grad student with a partner who’s needed a home-cooked meal since august. (trust me, you don’t want me to write that.)

no. i’ve been cooking. i cook sometimes! i’m actually a pretty decent cook. i’ve made butternut squash puree, like from an actual butternut squash. (holly had to cut it down the middle for me because i’m scared of knives and, you know, blood.) i excel at grilling chicken. oh one time i made like…a chicken piccata-type thing! you know, with capers? i also excel at roasting any and all vegetables. i’ve made some vegetarian soups featuring trendy greens like kale and chick peas (the humble chick pea: always on trend, never out of style). i made a beef stew with red wine in it. (fancy!) i made my old friend diane‘s excellent sweet & sour gummy gelatin snacks because we’re hippies now and don’t eat anything artificial and everything in our cupboards is some kind of dried thing or seed sealed in an airtight container.

i started each semester out strong saying to holly i got you, babe! i’ll do the cooking! but then quickly petered out after three days, telling her on her way out the door to please go to starbucks during your break, honey, and get a latte and some kind of egg sandwich for dinner while i ate low glycemic foods such as green apples and various tree nuts at my desk. then i’d work on my e-book for five minutes, go downstairs and binge watch gay man shows like will & grace and the golden girls, spitting out pumpkin seeds as i laughed, thinking oh i should go do the dishes now but i probably won’t! oh that karen walker! oh blanche! oh sophia! i think i need an organic cheese stick! …but there was no one to get it for me because holly was in class. and then i’d feel sad i didn’t try harder to cook for my spouse. but then millionaire matchmaker was on and…what was i talking about again?

still. i would give up the chance to binge watch my favorite reruns for some home cookin that i don’t have to actually cook.

in conclusion, i started out talking about my hair and i have no idea how i got onto this topic. anyway, here’s a picture of the hole in the ozone above our house, three hours before i shut down the power grid.

psych! it’s totally not. but wait: is that even real?? see, this is what happens when you google images. i have no idea if this is even legit. but it’s scary.

ok let’s stop talking about it now.

in conclusion (i love it when i try to “conclude” my blog posts). IN CONCLUSION: i have no conclusion. i was going to say something about hair to wrap up this post, but instead i’m going to tell you that while i was writing this (i wrote the majority of this post yesterday, about half of it alone in the house), the tv kept going on and off downstairs. it was really freaking me the hell out. i should have gone downstairs to investigate it, but there was a small part of me that thought it might be a poltergeist. (and we all know how well i handle spooky poltergeist movies.) i was trying to convince myself that some weird thing was going on with some kind of recording holly had set up but yeah, mostly i was thinking poltergeist.

i finally decided enough was enough, that i’d confront this invisible beast once and for all. i kind of expected to be sucked into the tv like that little girl in the movie (MOMMY HELP I’M STUCK IN THE TEEVEE! MOMMY MOMMY HELP! *shudder*). instead i found a box sitting on top of the on/off switch of the remote. i was flooded with the sweet nectar of relief one only feels after a close encounter with another dimension. (very few people have ever felt this.) i’m really glad this story had a happy ending or else holly would be really busy right now trying to get me out of our damn tv.

COULD HAVE BEEN ME. WASN’T. ANOTHER CLOSE CALL.

EVERYTHING THAT NEEDS TO STOP RIGHT NOW.

i’ve been short on time lately. so in lieu of an actual coherent post, i’ve simply compiled a list of annoyances to share with you. i started writing it in a barnes & noble, shortly after a day trip to philadelphia. then i developed a new desk injury. now i’m sitting in a starbucks in towson watching flat butts go by.

here we go:

the heavy breathing behind me at the barnes & noble. just stop. stop sighing! your laptop screen is not large enough to shield me from your breathing. this is why i stay home and write. cause of people like you. go outside and sigh and breathe heavy. that’s what outside air is for.

the uncovered coughing behind me on the bus in philadelphia. HEY DUDE: DOES MY HAIR LOOK LIKE A RECEPTACLE FOR GERMS. IT’S NOT. COVER YOUR DAMN MOUTH OR I WILL SPRAY YOU IN THE FACE WITH MY BRAND-NEW MACE I JUST BOUGHT AT ACE HARDWARE.

the hookers. once the temperature rises five freakin degrees in this city, every loudass, raspy-voiced hooker in the neighborhood appears out of nowhere and starts shouting with her thousand-year-old smoker’s voice. STOP DISRUPTING MY WRITING. STOP DISRUPTING MY SLEEP. go inside! it’s not even warm out yet! why do you have to yell anyway? just talk! like a normal person! there are quiet hookers out there. haven’t you ever even seen pretty woman?!

the desk injuries. so now i have ulnar neuropathy? in addition to my desk-sitting-induced occipital neuralgia? in addition to the ganglion cyst from mouse overuse or somesuch that i used to have or still have? i don’t even know if i still have it. but i had to sleep with a brace on for a couple months back in ’05. it was…it was pretty nerdy. i’m glad i wasn’t wearing my nighttime mouthguard to prevent clenching back then or else i’d be divorced by now.

the slow people. oh and i’m slow so this is really saying something.

the people that don’t know how to drive. and i’m not even that good of a driver! USE YOUR BLINKER. STOP AT THE STOP SIGN. WHAT’S THE PROBLEM. GET OFF YOUR DAMN PHONE.

the grumpy people working in public places. look, despite how this blog may or may not portray me, i pride myself on being an exceptionally nice to strangers, and that includes people that work with the public, on the phone and in person. don’t assume i’m going to be rude to you. don’t be grumpy to me because some asshat was just a jerk to you. if you hate your job working with, you know, actual people, go get a job doing data entry. i did it once. worst two days of my life but you’d probably friggin love it.

the high waistlines! c’mon. COME ON. it wasn’t ok in 1992. it’s not ok now. we were all ok seeing chandler, monica & joey’s collective camel toes back then because. well. i guess we weren’t ok with it. but we didn’t have a choice. that’s all that was available. it’s 2014 now. we have more choices. choose to wear pants that keep your genitals a secret. choose to wear pants that don’t make your butt look like one giant slice of BACK.

we don’t have to settle for mom jeans anymore! WE’RE BETTER THAN THAT.

a note to manufacturers: not everyone likes rosemary so stop putting it in everything.

WHY WHY WHY.

apropos of nothing (mental note: learn how to spell “apropos” so google can stop correcting you. also learn: synagogue, initiative, occasional. oh and aesthetic, which, hello, practically impossible.) — ANYWAY, apropos of nothing, i’m going to rant about rosemary, which, in my book, is long overdue.

first of all, if you have an intense love of rosemary, i strongly suggest you stop reading right now. just click the X and close out of this page. then run to your local produce department. once you get there, grab armloads of rosemary. throw it up in the air like you just don’t care. squeeze it between your fingers so the rosemary oil gets on your skin and then smell your fingers. that way holly and i can easily identify you. you, with the smell. sniffing your fingers in the supermarket. you ought to be ashamed of yourself.

so yeah, go ahead and buy all the rosemary in the world, we don’t even care. wanna know why? IT’S IN EVERYTHING ANYWAY. we can’t get away from it.

let me tell you a story. the story goes like this:

in my continuing effort to eat less grains in order to keep my blood-sugar steady, which therefore prevents me from getting hangry (i.e. so hungry you’re actually angry) while simultaneously helping me ward off type 2 diabetes, an affliction of the jews (the hiatal hernia i actually already have – OY. mental note: learn how to spell “hiatal” ), not to be confused with the bread of affliction. HEY OH! passover joke! (passover starts soon, biznatches! overeat pizza now so you don’t miss it. wait don’t. wait…nothing. forget i even said that.)

…so yes, in my continuing efforts to limit grains (SERIOUSLY I DON’T EVEN EAT PIZZA THAT OFTEN SHUT UP), i often purchase mary’s gone crackers, which, despite their odd name, are actually pretty good. they’re gluten-free and made of a variety of seeds, which, i don’t actually understand? regardless, they’re actually quite delicious. i usually buy the “original” crackers. they have served me well despite the fact that i continue to be confused about how they’re made.

at some point over the past two years, i decided to, you know, spice things up and picked up a box of the “herb” variety. BIG MISTAKE. listing “herbs” on an organic product (these crackers are organic like everything else we eat–yes, as i said years ago, we have truly become one of those households with nothing to eat, where you have to make everything. like a hippie. or a colonial person.) is not only vague but it’s also dangerous for those of us that don’t like rosemary. i feel like if an organic food lists “herbs” in its ingredient list, it probably contains enough rosemary to kill or at least choke a small to medium-sized mammal. oh and forget about salad bars. (YEAH WHOLE FOODS, I’M LOOKIN AT YOU. PEOPLE THAT DON’T LIKE ROSEMARY EXIST.) i’ll get to that in a minute.

anyway, as you can probably guess, the predominant flavor in these crackers was rosemary. it was like munching on a pine tree. ON A PINE. TREE. mary, (as in: of Mary’s Gone Crackers) would it be so hard to list ROSEMARY as an ingredient in your herb crackers? WOULD IT BE. SO HARD. no! i don’t think it would be!

i was recently reminded of this debacle yesterday when i delightedly opened a box of mary’s gone ALL NEW super seed crackers. which, hello, i was totally excited for! i mean, pumpkin seeds AND sunflower seeds AND poppy seeds in ADDITION to all the OTHER SEEDS. it was too much.

i bit into a cracker and at first i thought: oh my gosh. it’s almost like: an everything bagel! but then: NO. no no no NO. the familiar and unwelcome flavor of rosemary–of pine and soil itself–bloomed in my mouth. i shook the crackers at the sky. WHYYYYYYY. i shouted. WHYYYYYY.

no, i didn’t do that. who even shakes anything at the sky anymore? only people in biblical movies. i’d be more likely to throw the damn box across the room but i didn’t want to clean it up. anyway, it made me want to rant. so here i am.

why my intense dislike for rosemary? (oh hooo, this is going to get me in major trouble with some of you but whatever. it was bound to come out sooner or later.) first of all, if you break it up and toss it in things before you cook them–say, red-skinned potatoes, for example–it dries out and becomes these pokey little needles that can not only stab you in the throat, but choke you if they flip sideways in your esophagus! (go figure, i can spell esophagus.)

this very thing happened to me years ago. luckily, i was able to push the offending needle or needles down with a gulp of water or a slice of bread but it was touch and go there for a minute. it was touch and go. and it probably irritated my hiatal hernia.

and yes, if i wanted to gnaw on a pine needle, i’d gnaw on a pine needle. if i wanted to taste the earth’s rich, bountiful soil, i’d just eat a handful of rich bountiful soil.

and now for the kicker: THE WHOLE FOODS SALAD BAR. guys. c’mon. is it necessary to put rosemary in every single dish?? IS IT? i’ll tell you what: it’s not. because i don’t do it at home. this is the universe telling me to avoid the whole foods salad bar. it’s too damn expensive anyway. i already had words with the sushi guy. i should forget their prepared foods altogether.

so. in closing, does rosemary have its place? yes. but in small doses. (and YES, it can be good in a roasted chicken dish, so please don’t mention roasted chicken to me. i already know.)

if you are a manufacturer of something PLEASE list it on your ingredient list as not all of us want to eat pine sol. and chop the damn stuff up dammit! you want a lawsuit or something?? i should not have to review a heimlich maneuver chart before i eat your food.

“help…i have rosemary…stuck…in my throat.” “i gotcha, buddy. i gotcha.”

next up:  my recent-ish 30-minute flight from pittsburgh to baltimore, also known as I Took Too Much Xanax & Held a (Kind) Stranger’s Hand. until then, please don’t choke on rosemary. or at least avoid it if you’re with me because you know my ass isn’t gonna know how the hell to save you and before i can do anything, i’ll have to google “heimlich maneuver” and you know i’ll spell it wrong.

remember that time we got in a fight before downton abbey and i made you watch it by yourself?

I MISSED GIRLS, TOO. NOT HAPPY.

i barely remember what happened in the last episode of downton abbey (season 4, episode 4) because it’s been so long since i watched it. actually. actually no. it hasn’t been that long, i guess, because i watched it monday, not sunday, because holly and i got in a fight sunday night and i made her watch it by herself, which pretty much killed me because i desperately wanted to watch it, just not next to her because i couldn’t stand to be around her because i was so irritated.

doesn’t that suck? when you get in a fight with your spouse/mate/significant other right before your TWO FAVORITE DAMN SHOWS, WHICH RUN BACK TO BACK, AND THEY’RE NOT NORMAL SHOWS EITHER. NO, YOU HAVE TO WAIT A DAMN YEAR FOR A NEW DAMN SEASON AND EVERY EPISODE IS LIKE A LITTLE POT OF GOLD (sunday night is a twofer: downton abbey, then Girls on hbo, which hello. best show ever.) and then you’re so mad you want to punch them in the throat, not only because they’ve wronged you but because they’ve ruined everything. the night is ruined. the shows are ruined. and the only way you can avoid said punch is to walk away, which means you have to walk away from the tv also. don’t you hate that?

anyway, i guess this post needs to address the last episode at least a little. so here’s some commentary based on what i can remember, which, admittedly, is not that much.

-the cooking teacher. the french guy? did anyone understand what the hell he was saying? because i sure the hell didn’t.

-“her ladyship’s” new “lady’s maid”–obviously another freakazoid weirdo! cora is so…i don’t even know. i’m beginning to think her and her asshat husband deserve each other. i remember going to a farm as a little kid for a school trip and there were turkeys there. i looked at a turkey, at its eyes, and it was like, there was just…nothing there. and i wondered: what’s behind those eyes? do they even have a brain? that’s what i’m starting to feel about cora. also: does she suck helium? oh well. at least she likes orange juice. at least there’s that.

-mary’s really swinging some zingers at edith these days, isn’t she? geesh. (WHY’D EDITH GO TO THE DOCTOR? WHY? OMG WHY.)

-poor daisy. why’s she always pickin the wrong men?? the first one’s a homo. the second one dies. the third one doesn’t like her back. she’s really not all that bad. daisy needs a man. so does thomas. i stand by my earlier statement that thomas would be a whole lot nicer if he had a man. i’m sure he’d have better coloring, too.

-why’s lord grantham being all nice and whatnot to that farmer? give him time. i’m sure he’ll screw everything up.

-mr. bates is going to do something bad. we all know this.

-the new gardener. the letter opener. i have no idea. these ladies need more to do.

-molesley: still an idiot. i called that one last season.

when downton abbey was over, holly called up to me and asked if i wanted to watch Girls with her down there or did i want to watch it upstairs with her in bed. i told her i was too tired to watch it, which was a lie. what i really was saying was: DON’T EVEN ASK ME. COME UP HERE AND CUDDLE UP NEXT TO ME AND LET’S WATCH IT TOGETHER WHILE YOU APOLOGIZE FOR BEING A JERK. THEN EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER AND THE NIGHT WILL NOT BE COMPLETELY RUINED AFTER ALL.

instead of reading between the lines she was like “you sure? okay.” and she watched it downstairs without me.

OH MY GOSH DID THAT MAKE ME MAD. sometimes i wonder: why did i even bother marrying a woman? why did i struggle coming out of the closet the way i did? why am i even gay? she thinks like a man. she acts like a man. she doesn’t understand that when i say something i actually mean something else. 

anyway, i was so mad i couldn’t even watch Girls upstairs in bed. instead i turned on the grammy’s and stewed and listened to holly watching Girls downstairs by herself. then i got madder. it was a vicious cycle. i tried breathing out the bad feelings down to my feet the way my acupuncturist says do so but it was no use.

when she came upstairs, i shut my eyes and pretended i was asleep. i made sure i was way the hell on the other side of the bed, too, so she couldn’t put her doggone cold feet on my legs. OHHHH NO. YOU GONNA USE ME AS YOUR PERSONAL HEATING STATION YOU BEST NOT BE WATCHING GIRLS WITHOUT ME, UH-UH NOT HAPPENING. WARM UP YOUR OWN DAMN FEET DAMMIT.

so yeah, we made up the next day. of course we made up, we always do. part of making up was, of course, making her watch both downton abbey and Girls again, which was all about death and kind of upsetting. the fact that holly watched these again with me means that she loves me. even though she was on facebook on her phone or her ipad or whatever. she loves me. this is what marriages are made of people. compromise.

sidenote: please make GIRLS an hour an episode, lena! PLEASE. WE WAIT ALL YEAR FOR THIS. WE WAIT ALL YEAR.