Tag Archives: tv

what is it with jews and seltzer anyway?

if i have a choice between plain water and seltzer i will always choose seltzer. why is this? i really have no idea. for starters, seltzer doesn’t even have a taste. second (secondly?), it has virtually no advantages to one’s health, only disadvantages, namely gas.

i’ve been thinking about seltzer a lot lately, as my parents very kindly gave me/us a seltzer-maker (a sodastream) for my birthday. well actually, it’s more of a soda-maker (you add flavored/colored powder), but since neither of us really drinks soda, it’s basically a seltzer maker.

we got it a while ago, back in the fall, but only started using it a few weeks ago. i think holly may have forgotten we had it at all. i, on the other hand, was simply scared of the carbon dioxide canister exploding in my face. anyway, it turns out it’s not all that scary (and quite simple to use, i may add). and let me tell you: since then, i have been drinking a lot of seltzer.

as i walk around the house hiccuping wildly proclaiming to holly you know, i probably shouldn’t drink so much seltzer, it’s got me thinking: what the hell’s up with jews and seltzer?

for some reason, there’s an inexplicable link between the jewish people and seltzer. or maybe it’s just jews in the northeast? or tri-state area (ny/nj/ct)? i have no idea. but i’ve met very few people in my life that drink plain (or flavored) seltzer that aren’t jewish. even the word seltzer sounds jewish. like it’s someone’s last name. as in: “honey, who was at synagogue today?” “oh, you know, the usuals: the rosenbergs, the greeblatts, the goldsteins, the seltzers.”

i honestly think there’s a jewish seltzer gene (JSG, if you will). i really do. every jewish household has or has had seltzer in the fridge. and it’s always “seltzer” to us. not “club soda.” it’s seltzer.

sometimes when we go out to a bar, since i’m not much of a drinker, i’ll order a “club soda with lime*” because we’re not in kansas anymore (kansas, of course, being new jersey). but truly, in my mind, i’m the jewish grandma shouting GIMME A SELTZER WITH LIME, DAHLINK. OY VEY DOES YOUR MOTHA KNOW YOU WORK AT A BAR? YOU’RE VERY PRETTY HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT MODELING INSTEAD?

*please note that i won’t be ordering anything with sliced lemons or limes at a bar or restaurant until at least april, as most, if not all, restaurant or bar-sliced citrus have norovirus all over them and, as G-d as my witness, i will do nearly anything to avoid the norovirus. 

the JSG (jewish seltzer gene) makes no sense to me, since jews, by their very nature are a) gassy (ok i made that up but it sounds about right) and b) complainers. we have very sensitive systems and complain about everything. why would we be inexplicably drawn to a beverage that will not only give us gas but compel us to complain to our spouses, friends and family about how gassy we are? it seems all wrong. and yet….we just can’t stop ourselves.

(is it because we’re bad swimmers? an…evolutionary adaptation to protect us in the event of a shipwreck? so we float to safety?)

one of my earliest and fondest memories of my late grandmother is the two of us standing side by side at her apartment’s kitchen counter–yellow formica speckled with gold–as she taught me how to make “orange soda,” my curious five-year-old eyes just barely making it above the counter.

“orange soda” was, of course, just orange juice and seltzer. but oh i adored it. anyway, i have continued to make it ever since (and think of my gram every time i do).

in conclusion (is there a conclusion here?), seltzer does have a taste. it tastes like seltzer! yes, it tastes like bubbles. thousands of teeny tiny bubbles. which beats the hell out of regular water. i’ve also started to make a less carbonated seltzer (two shots of carbon dioxide from the sodastream instead of four) to protect my sensitive jewish system.

p.s. about downton abbey (the subject of my last post)

WHY LADY SYBIL? WHY!!!!!!!!!! she was the nicest one! DAMMIT THIS IS WHY I DON’T WATCH SHOWS LIKE THIS.

also: lord grantham is an idiot! he’s always making the wrong decisions! AND THOMAS IS CREEPIER THAN EVER! WHY CAN’T THEY JUST GET RID OF THAT GUY? HE’S IMPOSSIBLE TO GET RID OF! LIKE A ROACH! HE JUST KEEPS COMING BACK!

Advertisements

we’re in the midst of a downton abbey marathon over here

The cast of PBS series Downton Abbey.

holly and i are usually  not the type to jump on the bandwagon when it comes to popular tv shows, but so many of our friends talk about the pbs series downton abbey that we were finally like ok let’s see what this whole thing’s about.

holly, of course, took the reigns and was like, babe, the new season’s starting, let’s get on this so we can watch season 3. so we started a trial of netflix and finished season 1 over the weekend. then we started season 2 last night (via a free trial of hulu–gotta love the free trials!). here are some thoughts so far:

on the cast & characters:

thomas is a little prick. i could kick his ass. why did they have to make him gay? not good for the cause. they should have fired him before he left. but i guess they need a villian for the storyline. i can’t even look at him. he disgusts me.

his friend, that lady who works for “her ladyship,” (the american lady that was in the 80s movie “she’s having a baby”)? she’s a bitch, too. mrs. whatever-her-face. (o’brian, mrs. o’brian, holly’s telling me now) i could elbow her in the mouth, i can’t even look at her face either. she needs to be fired, too. also: her and thomas smoke entirely too much.

mr. bates is my favorite. so is that girl, the one he proposed to? they’re both our favorites.

the youngest sister is the hottest. i know she’s probably young, but don’t hold it against me. she’s a dead ringer for a brunette scarlett johansson. she even looks good in the old-school nurses uniform.

edith, the blond sister: also a bitch. way to go spreading sh*t about your own sister! she’s the jan brady. everyone knows she’s an idiot. at least she can drive.

mary, the oldest: marsha brady, obviously. popular one. did you see how fabulous her hair is when it’s down? she’s ok. i mean, so far. there’s still plenty of time for me to hate her, too. we’re only on season 2, episode 3. plenty of time.

granny, i know she’s a really famous actress, don’t know her name. started out hating her, now i’m kind of liking her. she’s funny. wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, though. she was great in “the best exotic marigold hotel.” did you see that movie? FABULOUS MOVIE. see it if you haven’t already! i know it’s a weird name for a movie but trust me, it’s good. you know i wouldn’t lead you astray.

matthew, the cousin. i don’t think cousins should marry, even if they’re distant cousins. you gotta mix up the gene pool, people! he has nice eyes, though. despite the whole cousin thing, i want him and mary together. so wrong it’s actually right.

the turkish guy that died. he totally had a moment with evil thomas. even though i can’t stand him, i don’t blame thomas for putting the moves on him. also: he was hot even when he was dead. that’s true hotness.

daisy: stop picking on daisy! she’s a nice girl! geesh.

i have more commentary on more characters but i have a headache so i’ll stop now.

other notes:

watching the show, episode after episode, really gets me in the mood to talk like british people. i suddenly have the urge to say words like “lovely” and “quite.”

i get confused easily as we watch. i mean, first of all, they’re accents are so thick i need subtitles. also, there are so many names to remember. and secret alliances and plots. i’m not cut out for this type of show. i’m better with friends reruns, jersey shore and hbo’s “girls” (OMG WE LOVE THAT SHOW). far too intellectual and historical for me. but i’m trying. i do see what all the fuss is about. it’s a good show. gotta hand it to them, pbs really knocked one out of the park with this one.

lastly, for the longest time i thought it was downtown abbey. don’t even tell me you didn’t think so, too. glad to have that cleared up before i embarrass myself at a dinner party.

p.s. please no spoilers! pretty please!

if you say you don’t have a crush on kate middleton you’re lying

claire danes, who played angela in the short-lived mid-90s drama "my so-called life"

i can’t believe i was jessica’s crush in the mid-90s. it’s so…so…unfair i didn’t know her then. i’m going to have to tell ricki the next time i see him in the girls’ room.

first things first: yes, i kind of abandoned you. kind of like when i went to under armour except this time i didn’t dropkick any ladies’ rooms bathroom stall doors and/or split my pants down the middle, then have to take a boat home, then have to go out for pizza with holly with my underwear showing. (gosh that was kind of funny now that i think about it.)

no actually i just felt severely unfunny the past couple months. so instead of turning this blog into an episode of my so-called life (omg loved that show; loved angela (loved her too much, probably), loved jordan, loved ricki & his eyeliner in the girls’ room, even loved rayannei decided to step back and “let the storm pass.”

so yeah, the storm passed. and one day i’ll write about it in a sensibly priced e-book. until then, i’m back to help you procrastinate to the best of your abilities. so here we go!

first: a number of revelations i’ve had over the past few weeks. let’s start with kate middleton.

1. kate middleton:  yes, if you say you don’t have a crush on kate middleton, you’re absolutely 100% lying. or else you’re of a grandmotherly-type age–or you’re actually a grandmother–in which case it feels quite wrong to crush on a real-life 30-year-old princess. but i’m not a grandmother yet so i’m just going to say that i suddenly noticed it’s probably almost impossible not to have a crush on her.

she’s just so…so absolutely heartbreakingly lovely. not only is she beautiful, she’s graceful and loves children–and they love her back! she’s the type of girl that, if she were to, say, walk into a forest–which i imagine she would once in a while, as she seems like the outdoorsy type–animals would gather around her feet. like bunnies and deer and baby animals in particular. puppies, especially. i know puppies don’t live in forests, but they would sense her presence and run into the forest to find her.

anyway, i’m not going to deny my feelings anymore. instead i’m embracing and sharing them and suggest you do the same.

2. facebook: i took a two-week hiatus from facebook and i kind of loved it. i felt so…so 90s. it kind of made me want to listen to some gin blossoms and…pick up my home phone and call someone. (of course i didn’t. but i could have. except for i’d text them first to tell them i was calling.) it was like: i wasn’t bombarded with 10,000 pieces of information every five seconds and i actually started liking people again. but then i got back on and got disgusted and started hating people again. it’s really a catch-22, facebook. i’d say more about this, but i have to go check my notifications. kthanks, brb.

3. growing out my bangs: ok, i’m back. speaking of the 90s, i’m growing out my bangs. yes, growing out my bangs. i should note i’ve had bangs since 2003 so this is major for me.

in hindsight, i’m noticing that bangs kind of held me back. like, creatively. now that i’m nearly sans bangs (that’s fraaanch. “sans” means “without” and no, i don’t remember anything else from five years of french, so help me, what a waste of time that was–i should have taken spanish so i could communicate with all the hispanic guys that probably say such nice things to me in their native tongue) anyway, without the baggage of bangs, so to speak, i’m able to do all sorts of fun things with my hair now: flipping it this way and that, using hairspray and clips and all sorts of things.

note: i haven’t used hairspray since the early 90s! i feel like buying some guess jeans, pegging them, splashing on some jean nate (pronounced GEEN-naTAY; also fraaanch) and doing the running man to some c+c music factory. i probably won’t. but i might. then i’ll go to friendly’s and get a fribble. WHAT. get outta here. i totally would but it’s 2012 and most of the friendly’s have closed down. i also don’t have to peg my jeans anymore. that’s what jeggings are for! 

4. the blue angels: the the blue angels came to baltimore and omg. we watched them practice and perform from our roofdeck and holy crap wow. seeing and hearing them so up close and personal from the comfort of home was like this big free gift wrapped in a bow dropped on our house–like a big ol loudass exciting present for persevering in this hot mess of a city. who knew a neurotic jew like me was an airshow fan! instead of complaining oy it’s so loud! oy they’re so close! OY ARE THEY GOING TO CRASH INTO OUR HOUSE CALL THE SISTERHOOD WE HAVE TO PUT THIS IN THE NEWSLETTA!  i was like HELL’S YEAH DOGGIE BRING IT ON!

5. middlesex: i finally read middlesex by jeffrey eugenides and woah. dude, that is a good book. i seriously felt myself getting smarter while i was reading it. also who knew a, ahem, love scene between a 14-year-old hermaphrodite and 14-year-old a red-headed girl could be so…special? oh shuddup. i’m not a sicko, just read the damn book, you’ll see what i mean. (p.s. I WANT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RED-HEADED GIRL, DAMMIT, JEFFREY!)

6. new jersey housewives: i know she’s kind of a bee-otch, but jersey housewives wouldn’t even have a storyline if it weren’t for teresa. so even if you don’t like her, i suggest you just deal with it or else you’re not gonna have a show to watch. also: i love rosie. and, i hate myself for saying it, but joe gorga‘s kind of a hunk. and if you don’t watch the show don’t worry about it, you’re probably better off without it, let’s go to the next revelation.

7. more with the hair: i need a keratin treatment. i tried to deny it. i said i wasn’t interested but i am. i’m going to get carpal tunnel in my right arm from straightening my hair in this damn humidity. put that in your sisterhood newsletter. no wait. don’t. my mom probably gets that newsletter.

til next time!
xxo!
jessica, i.e. the one in synagogue with the mouthpiece and all the hard candies

holly would rather watch “snapped” than talk to me

so yesterday, sunday, i was talking to holly about something–i don’t remember what, but it must have been important enough for me to take the effort to project my voice from the kitchen, where i was loading the dishwasher, to the living room, where holly was on the couch watching, yes, “snapped,” the oxygen channel’s scintillating show on women who murder.

so i’m talking and i don’t know if holly thought i couldn’t see her or just didn’t care, but as i speak, i see the volume level on the tv go up. she’s not responding to me, and it keeps going up until i walk over to the couch–where holly is mesmerized by some gruesome crime scene–and announce that i cannot believe she’s trying to drown me out with the tv, and doesn’t she even care enough about me or our marriage to engage in conversation?

“babe, i’m trying to watch something!” she says, then starts laughing so hard that she starts to hiccup, which i secretly relish b/c it always seems like good, if harmless, payback for whatever the hell she’s laughing at, which usually has something to do with me. this obnoxious laughing-then-hiccuping thing typically occurs when i’ve caught her doing something bad, which she actually thinks is quite funny. which only pisses me off even more.

this is a totally stereotypical thing to say but whatever: at that moment, when i caught her tuning me out with the tv, i felt a real kinship with my straight sisters all over the world, because this seems like something only a man would do–to drown a woman out with the tv.

(holly’s going to burst out laughing and then hiccup wildly when she reads this but i don’t even care. YOU DESERVE IT.)

i’m starting to wonder: why am i going thru the trouble of marrying this woman over and over and over and over–FOUR TIMES I’VE MARRIED HER–if she acts like such a man?!

anyway, i stomped off, vowing i wouldn’t talk to her the rest of the day, but of course i did. i can’t help myself b/c i love her. i also usually have a lot to say, but that’s besides the point.

last night i decided to “bond” with her over one of her favorite shows, “harry’s law,” which i don’t know why they call her harry? but still, it’s a pretty good show. and i decide to bring up the whole turning-up-the-tv-while-i’m-trying-to-tell-her-something thing, you know, during her favorite show. (in my defense: i did wait for a commercial.)

“that was really rude,” i tell her, crossing my arms, trying my best to scowl but smiling instead b/c she looked small and cute on the couch. (dammit!)

“babe,” she said. “you talk a lot! and i listen a lot! but sometimes i just want to watch tv! and you’re always interrupting when i’m trying to hear something!”

“IT’S RUDE!” i exclaim. “it’s rude to turn up the tv when someone’s talking to you! it’s not like i couldn’t see!”

then she tells me that it’s rude to interrupt whatever she’s watching, especially b/c i start talking during the most important parts. i decide to stop before we really get into it–and before “harry’s law” comes back on (admittedly, i wanted to see if this one guy killed his wife like his brother-in-law in the mental hospital says he did).

look, i understand that my partner needs to unwind sometimes by watching tv. i get that. but i’m a person. I’M HER WIFE. i wash her clothes that she leaves all over the place. i will not be drowned out by the television. (holly, you’re hiccuping again, aren’t you? good. hiccup. if you don’t like what i’m writing here, leave a comment. that’s what the comment section is for.)

i’d like to hear from women (and perhaps men?) out there whose partners–i’m guessing most of them are actually going to be husbands and boyfriends, you know, male types–turn up the tv when you’re talking.

do they think we don’t notice when the house actually starts shaking from the explosions on the A-team movie?? why do they even want to watch the A-team movie?? everyone knows the best thing about the 80s was “the golden girls”! when does that movie come out?! DISCUSS.

dear meredith, i miss you already. love, jessica

meredith vieira: forever fabulous. (don't goooooo! don't! go! *sob*)

i’m just going to go ahead and admit it: when katie couric left the today show, i didn’t think i’d recover.

we’d been thru college together, my first job, so many ups, so many downs. sure, she didn’t know me. and i’d probably scare the hell out of her on the street by repeatedly hugging her tiny frame and telling her how much she meant to me. (SECURITY!)

no but seriously: i loved katie. perhaps more than one should love a morning newscaster. she was my morning mom.

“no one can replace katie,” i told holly, tears in my eyes, on her last morning with matt, al & ann.

 i repeated the same thing to my mother on the phone that night.

“that meredith vieira’s gonna have big shoes to fill!” i yelled, dabbing at my eyes, already kind of mad at her for taking katie’s place.

“i know, honey,” holly said, coming to my side. “it’s going to be ok. we have to give meredith a chance. she might be great.”

“and she might suck,” i added, always the optimist.

“and she might be really great.”

“we’ll see.”

boy was i wrong.

i’m here to publicly eat my words and admit that meredith vieira is the best thing to happen to morning television since morning television. she is so fabulous i can’t even deal with it. she has become my new morning mom (sorry, katie: you snooze you lose). she has exceeded my wildest expectations.

she is endlessly classy. and funny. and unflappable. and i’m going to miss her! oh hell, if i was on set tomorrow (or today, if you’re reading this wednesday), i’d probably hang onto her ankles shouting noooooooooooo! meredith! don’t! gooooooooooo! (again: SECURITY!) in hopes that she’d change her mind and stay for just, like, one more year. (hell, who am i kidding? one year would never be enough.)

i’ve been so upset about her leaving the today show, i haven’t even let myself think about it, let alone talk or write about it. but now that her last day has arrived, i can’t avoid it anymore.

meredith, you have been (oh here i go tearing up again) a joy in our lives (yes, holly loves you, too!) the past five years. we wish you the best with all your new ventures. you are a total rockstar. maybe you can come in for a special exclusive interview when i come in to promote my new book? (i don’t have a link for it yet b/c it actually doesn’t exist right now but it will, and it will be funny, and, yes, i could actually make the interview exclusive for you.)

if you (my readers) think i’m a loser for writing a post entirely about meredith vieira, shuddit. if you think i’m a loser for writing a message to her as if she’s going to read my blog, you can shuddit, too. b/c maybe she will.

in any case, if you love her, too, let your vieira love shine, baby. if you need to cry, you can cry on my virtual shoulder. i am totally here for you.

meredith, we miss you already.
xoxox jessica & holly

what would you do if you found out i was a fugitive? would you turn me in or live life knowing your wife could never ever get a parking ticket or else you might lose her forever?

susan lefevre in 1975, left. marie walsh, ex-fugitive mom, right. pretty mugshot! you go, girl!

you might hate me for saying this, but i’m not the biggest oprah fan.  she’s incredibly good at what she does. but honestly? i’ve always imagined she’d be a bee-otch to work for (confirmed by these annoying behind-the-scenes shows on her new cable network–which holly inexplicably likes to watch while we’re trying to go to sleep, don’t even ask me why–and all her producers seem very, extremely scared of her) and therefore find her show hard to watch.

i also don’t enjoy the fact that she’s on the cover of every single issue of her magazine. she is, however, a big friend of the gays and i enjoy her interviewing style. so that might cancel it all out.

anyway, it was with great surprise when i found myself absolutely glued to her show yesterday, which focused on this lady, marie walsh–just your typical upper-middle-class, tennis-playing, horse-riding mother of three (or four, i forget)–who was, unbeknownst to her husband and family and everyone else, actually a fugitive on the run for 32 years. yeah, i know.

her real name was really susan lefevre and she was arrested at 19 for selling 2.5 grams of heroin to an undercover state trooper in 1975. (it sounds like it was a set-up but i don’t know.) and it was her law-abiding grandfather that helped her break out of prison. (you can read all about her story here. she has a new memoir out b/c, apparently, you have to either be snookie or a longtime fugitive to get a book deal these days.)

holly and i both got really into watching the show and at a certain point, after oprah talked to this woman’s husband, i got to thinking:

what would holly do if she found out i was a fugitive? not that i am. (really, i’m not. tho saying that does make me sound kind of suspicious.) no really. what if i had escaped out of prison and was on the lam for like 25 years (this would, of course, make me a seven-year-old fugitive) and changed my identity and had totally kept it a secret from my partner and one day she found out?

so i asked her.

“it depends on what you’d done,” she said.

my gut reaction to her answer was disappointment. [versus, say…when she rated me “an eight” (and that was “including my personality”) on a scale of one to 10 when my gut reaction was red hot seething anger. you can read all about that disastrous conversation here and don’t say i didn’t warn you. ew i’m getting angry just thinking about it.] b/c i was prepared to say i would support her as a fugitive no matter what. b/c we’re married and best friends and together for 10 years next month, and hello, we love each other.

so i thought about it.

“yeah, i guess you’re right,” i announced. “i mean, if i was a murderer, that could be a source of worry. but if i sold 2.5 grams of heroin in 1975 it’d be different.”

(now she’s saying, as i write this, that the bigger issue would be lying. like, if i lied about that for so long, what else could i be hiding? quiet holly! i’m trying to blog. she’s kind of right but whatever, i’m totally not talking about that right now.)

i told her that i would support her as a fugitive no matter what, and commit myself to living a life devoted to making sure she never got a parking or speeding ticket. (this would be difficult, as she’s a pretty risky parker sometimes. also she sometimes speeds but usually only b/c i’m always running 10 to 20 minutes late so she needs to drive faster to whatever event we’re going to so it doesn’t, you know, end before we get there.)

anyway, despite my disappointment, i’m going to stick to my original thought which is that yes, holly, i would stick by you if i found out you were a fugitive. i know that you’d never hurt a fly, so how bad could it be? plus i wouldn’t mind moving every few years. i might even let you get a motorcycle, b/c, you know, fugitives need motorcycles. and fugitives’ wives need jet-black motorcycle jackets with lots of unnecessary zippers to wear on their fugitive partners’ motorcycles. and i’d have to get, like, badass boots to match. these are my priorities, folks.

anyway, i’m wondering: would you stand by your woman or man if he or she was a (non-violent) fugitive and was hiding it from you for, like, 32 years. discuss.

who’s your ‘gimme’??

me and drew: besties. (except for that's not me on the right. but it could be. well probably not. anyway.)

every couple has their “gimmes.” you know, if you’re in a committed, exclusive relationship (yes, that includes being married; pbbbt! i know, boring right??) that person–or people–that are so understandably irresistible that your mate throws up his or her hands and pronounces that person your “gimme.”

most of the time gimmes are completely and totally out of one’s reach. movie stars, rock/pop stars and the like. straight women usually choose george clooney as their gimme. this confounds me. i know i’m gay as a day in may but c’mon ladies. what about someone like jude law or lenny kravitz? i personally think they blow him out of the water. but that’s just me and like i said, i’m a homo.

anyway, this whole famous-person-gimme thing keeps things fun and safe as your average person probably wouldn’t a) bump into any sexy famous ppl and b) have a chance w/them, most likely b/c they’d be blubbering about what a big fan they are and omg my husband/wife/partner totally says you’re my gimme.

(note: if you ever run into any of your famous gimmes don’t say that. instead act cool & sexy, then discreetly text your spouse/partner/signficant other that you have, in fact, run into your gimme and fair’s fair and my phone will be off for at least 90 minutes and i’ll text you when we’re done, love you ttys!)  

but right, back to the famous gimmes. holly has a nice long list of these and they’re usually blonde. this pisses me off to no end as i am very clearly a brunette. of course we have a lot of the same gimmes and holly’s a brunette. but we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about her and plus the rules are different for me, don’t ask me why but they are.

so holly’s #1 gimme has always been, and will most likely forever be, the lovely drew barrymore. i can’t say i blame her. portia di rossi is a close second. there are more, but i think i’m purposely forgetting them right now b/c most of them are blonde. [oh wait: i just remembered another–shannon tweed (also a blonde). you know, the ex-playmate and longtime partner of gene simmons. holly’s into the strong older woman type and i get that.]

anyway, obviously we’re very open about this kind of stuff, and we recently had a very frank conversation about drew barrymore and her gimme-ness.

i proclaimed that drew is one of my gimmes, too. so what if we were to actually run into her?

“well, we’re obviously not sharing her. it’s either you or me,” i told holly. (i think we were in the car.)

“well then i would get her,” holly proclaimed, all high and mighty-like.

“why would you get her?” i said. “i’ve loved her forever!” 

“and i’m four years older than you, which means that i’ve loved her longer. so i get her.”

she had a point. dammit.

“that’s fine,” i told her. “b/c, honestly, i think drew and i would wind up becoming best friends anyway. we might hold hands or make out or something, but mostly we’d probably get lattes, do our nails, get lunch and talk about our favorite books.”

“yeah, drew barrymore and i wouldn’t be doing much talking,” she told me.  

“whatever,” i said, probably crossing my arms at this point.

“look,” i said. “if you ever meet drew barrymore, i kind of feel like you might leave me for her and you two might actually become a couple. if this happens, i want you to know i’m going to be pissed but i’ll understand. i would. but since my number is the primary on our cell phone account, i also want you to know that i will immediately drop you from our family plan. i know your family’s important to you, so i’ll call them first and tell them so they don’t worry when your phone number doesn’t work anymore. i don’t think they’ll blame me.”

“thanks, babe. you’re the best wife ever.”

“i know. but chances are you won’t meet her, and this is a moot point.”

“i might.”

“you won’t.”

“i might.”

“yeah, you won’t.”

“i might,” she whispered. at this point i decided to be the bigger person and not argue anymore and instead thought about how i really am a great wife.

ok, so who are your gimmes? mine, in no particular order, are including but not limited to:

yes, drew. yes, portia. also: rihanna, karen from will & grace, the latina girl (ok i actually think she’s iranian in real life) who was on “the l word” for a while (tho i’m not sure how long since i had to stop watching that show as i found it highly annoying), katy perry and, the newest addition, kyle from the real housewives of beverly hills (does she count? she’s a reality tv star. disclaimer: strike that from the record if she turns into a crazy and/or psychotic megabitch). discuss.  

p.s. yes, i really would drop holly from the family plan. like a hot potato.

p.p.s. drew: if you’re reading this, call me.