That is, my blog is moving. I totally have been unmotivated to blog. Maybe a new site will help. I haven't been totally thrilled with the way blogspot lets you manage your settings, etc., so I'm trying wordpress now. Visit me at my new home. Maybe a new venue will get my fingers typing again.
Come visit me soon! I'll have milk and Newman-Os waiting for you.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Live from Minneapolis-St. Paul, it's Saturday Night!
I normally don't pay that much attention to national conventions, but I was curious to hear Sarah Palin speak, since nobody knows much about her except that she's essentially a hockey mom on steroids. So I watched the RNC last night much like the rest of the country, and as I was listening to her speech, trying to absorb her platform and measure her charisma, all I could think was, She totally looks like Tina Fey. Especially when Tina used to do Weekend Update. I almost expected Amy Poehler to sidle up next to her midway through and slap her a high five.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Dear Bride: Shove your spray tan where the sun don't shine
After reading this NYT story, I consider myself lucky enough to 1) have never been a bridesmaid in a wedding with a bridezilla; and 2) not have any friends that would even THINK about asking me to get a boob job just so I can look like the fembot-in-tulle that she wants to flank her at her wedding.
I've been/will be a bridesmaid in five weddings, and the duties, to my understanding, are to 1) throw the shower/bachelorette; 2) act as the emotional support to the bride, especially on the day of, when she's nervous about her perfect day; 3) keep the party going at the reception; 4) and happily rock a dress you'll say you'll wear again but know you never will. I do concede you must do your best to look cute at the altar, but not at the cost of silicon implants or injections to my face. Seriously people, if what you want is a gaggle of barbies with same cup size and shade of spray-tan, get a row of blow-up dolls. Sheesh.
I've been/will be a bridesmaid in five weddings, and the duties, to my understanding, are to 1) throw the shower/bachelorette; 2) act as the emotional support to the bride, especially on the day of, when she's nervous about her perfect day; 3) keep the party going at the reception; 4) and happily rock a dress you'll say you'll wear again but know you never will. I do concede you must do your best to look cute at the altar, but not at the cost of silicon implants or injections to my face. Seriously people, if what you want is a gaggle of barbies with same cup size and shade of spray-tan, get a row of blow-up dolls. Sheesh.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Starting a Bronx tale
I’ve lived in my current apartment for three years, which in New York years, is really like 10. With my roommate getting hitched, and our lease up in the fall, it’s time to move on. I love my neighborhood, but I’m ready for a change. And since I don’t have the energy, patience, or courage to start a new life in another city, moving to another borough is sort of the next closest thing. And I’m moving to the Bronx at that, which really will seem like another world.
I lucked out this move because I’m moving in with someone I know who happens to have a great apartment at a dirt-cheap price. (It’s not Manhattan, but hey, I’ll get my own bathroom!) But I also lucked out because I’m avoiding the whole NYC apartment search ordeal, where you have to fight tooth-and-nail to get a cardboard box with no closet space and a shower in the kitchen. The ordeal also involves avoiding shady brokers, emptying your savings account to hand over first and last month’s rent (plus a security deposit), and running to all ends of the city to see apartments during open houses. I’ve also realized, just through a very preliminary search on craigslist, that people use the desperation of apartment seekers to their perverted advantage. I’ve seen apartment postings for free rent in exchange for a “friends with benefits” arrangement (but I would get to pick the day of the week — gee, thanks guy!) or reduced rent in exchange for household chores that include “cleaning, cooking, answering phones, massage, etc.” The sad thing is that the apartment hunt here is such a pain in the ass that I actually thought for a New York minute, “I wonder if he means therapeutic?”
Thankfully, I avoided all the shady craziness. I don’t think my virtue is worth an onsite washer-dryer or walk-in closet. I just dread the physical move now, but hopefully I’ll be able to hire some men with a van (probably hipsters from an emo band who use their equipment van to make money on the side) for relatively cheap. Watch out Yankees, here I come.
I lucked out this move because I’m moving in with someone I know who happens to have a great apartment at a dirt-cheap price. (It’s not Manhattan, but hey, I’ll get my own bathroom!) But I also lucked out because I’m avoiding the whole NYC apartment search ordeal, where you have to fight tooth-and-nail to get a cardboard box with no closet space and a shower in the kitchen. The ordeal also involves avoiding shady brokers, emptying your savings account to hand over first and last month’s rent (plus a security deposit), and running to all ends of the city to see apartments during open houses. I’ve also realized, just through a very preliminary search on craigslist, that people use the desperation of apartment seekers to their perverted advantage. I’ve seen apartment postings for free rent in exchange for a “friends with benefits” arrangement (but I would get to pick the day of the week — gee, thanks guy!) or reduced rent in exchange for household chores that include “cleaning, cooking, answering phones, massage, etc.” The sad thing is that the apartment hunt here is such a pain in the ass that I actually thought for a New York minute, “I wonder if he means therapeutic?”
Thankfully, I avoided all the shady craziness. I don’t think my virtue is worth an onsite washer-dryer or walk-in closet. I just dread the physical move now, but hopefully I’ll be able to hire some men with a van (probably hipsters from an emo band who use their equipment van to make money on the side) for relatively cheap. Watch out Yankees, here I come.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Your love is better than ice cream, but not quite as good as chocolate
Can I just tell you how much I HATE articles like this — that is, articles that try to analyze and deconstruct love and relationships into its basest parts to figure out why successful couples work, and unsuccessful ones don't. I think the reason I hate them is that 1) they suck all the magic out of falling in love, and really only make you MORE depressed and jaded about relationships. Chocolate, love and drugs evoke the same brain chemistry -- so instead of going on that second date, I should get high and eat some double-fudge Oreos instead? And 2) it's a total waste of money. Scientists get all this funding to do all this research, only to come up with conclusions that are from the DUH files: In this instance, it's that men like hot women, so they'll try harder to keep them - which means becoming a whipped sucker--I mean, "supportive." I could have told you that in elementary school.
Can we just pretend for a minute that guys aren't that shallow and are willing to see beyond the physical, that they actually want a mate who is someone they emotionally connected with? Take today's episode of The Office, for instance. Jim and Pam are the "awww" couple of TV. They clearly had a solid friendship first, and, while Pam is cute, Jim gave up the much hotter Karen because of the connection he had to Pam. C'mon, he bought a ring for Pam a week after they started dating?! Let's say it all together: AWWWW!!!
Okay, so it's a television show, and not reality. But, I'd like to think that it still gives all us single schmucks out there a glimmer of hope. I'd like to think that you are feeling butterflies just because you like someone, not because your brain chemistry is telling you that what you really want is chocolate. Though I could really go for some bittersweet dark-chocolate chips right now.
Screw this. I think I'll go raid my kitchen cabinet.
Can we just pretend for a minute that guys aren't that shallow and are willing to see beyond the physical, that they actually want a mate who is someone they emotionally connected with? Take today's episode of The Office, for instance. Jim and Pam are the "awww" couple of TV. They clearly had a solid friendship first, and, while Pam is cute, Jim gave up the much hotter Karen because of the connection he had to Pam. C'mon, he bought a ring for Pam a week after they started dating?! Let's say it all together: AWWWW!!!
Okay, so it's a television show, and not reality. But, I'd like to think that it still gives all us single schmucks out there a glimmer of hope. I'd like to think that you are feeling butterflies just because you like someone, not because your brain chemistry is telling you that what you really want is chocolate. Though I could really go for some bittersweet dark-chocolate chips right now.
Screw this. I think I'll go raid my kitchen cabinet.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My life as a grocery list
In some ways, I think my refrigerator reflects my mood at any given time. When I'm feeling good, trying to get to the gym on a regular basis, not feeling stressed at work, and having fun socially, I tend to eat better. I'll buy more fresh fruits and vegetables and "grown up" foods like cous cous, three-cheese tortellini, fresh mozzarella and Carr's water crackers. When I'm stressed out, working late, and in a general bad mood I end up buying like I'm a bachelor: chocolate, potato chips, hot dogs, and soda.
Well, I must have been in a real shitty mood the other day, because, I did something I almost never do: Buy microwaveable dinners. After coming home from work around 9 and feeling a general malaise with the world, this was my shopping list:
4 Banquet Chicken Pot Pies (they were 4 for $3)
two Mama Celeste individual microwaveable pizzas
Vienna Sausages (which I actually enjoy on a regular basis, good or bad mood)
A six-pack of cottage cheese with the special bacteria that makes you poo (have yet to try it out and see if it works)
A six-pack of Mott's apple sauce in the little individual cups that your mom used to pack in your lunch box.
All that was missing was a six-pack of Bud. My saving grace was buying some organic spinach, which I haven't eaten yet, but plan to, along with the Ken's Caesar dressing I bought.
Well, I must have been in a real shitty mood the other day, because, I did something I almost never do: Buy microwaveable dinners. After coming home from work around 9 and feeling a general malaise with the world, this was my shopping list:
4 Banquet Chicken Pot Pies (they were 4 for $3)
two Mama Celeste individual microwaveable pizzas
Vienna Sausages (which I actually enjoy on a regular basis, good or bad mood)
A six-pack of cottage cheese with the special bacteria that makes you poo (have yet to try it out and see if it works)
A six-pack of Mott's apple sauce in the little individual cups that your mom used to pack in your lunch box.
All that was missing was a six-pack of Bud. My saving grace was buying some organic spinach, which I haven't eaten yet, but plan to, along with the Ken's Caesar dressing I bought.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Crossmass
This article on Slate is an interesting take on Easter. The author's correct in noting that Easter hasn't been a commercial success on par with Christmas, but in terms of what the holiday is actually celebrated for, fewer folks, I think, even understand why Christians celebrate Easter. They just think it's about bunnies and Easter baskets and chocolate and welcoming Spring.
One thing the Slate article touches upon, which also was a central point to the Easter sermon I heard today, was that there's no half-assedness to Easter. Sure, you can celebrate the birth of Jesus regardless of whether you believe he was the Son of God or just a really great guy who said and did a lot of great, loving things, because it's a nice story. But you can't say, sure, I sorta believe that Jesus may or may not have been crucified and then was physically resurrected. If you say you believe it, then there are some serious implications for that on your life.
One thing, though, that I think a lot of people overlook when it comes to the Jesus story is the weight the resurrection should be given. Most people tend to focus on the crucifixion because it focuses on the pain He experienced when he died for all of mankind's sins. But, really, without the resurrection, the crucifixion could also just be a story. The crucifixion is the price that was paid by a man who claimed to be the Son of God; the resurrection is proof that the Man is who He said He was - and that his death did indeed mean Grace personified.
Happy Crossmass everyone.
One thing the Slate article touches upon, which also was a central point to the Easter sermon I heard today, was that there's no half-assedness to Easter. Sure, you can celebrate the birth of Jesus regardless of whether you believe he was the Son of God or just a really great guy who said and did a lot of great, loving things, because it's a nice story. But you can't say, sure, I sorta believe that Jesus may or may not have been crucified and then was physically resurrected. If you say you believe it, then there are some serious implications for that on your life.
One thing, though, that I think a lot of people overlook when it comes to the Jesus story is the weight the resurrection should be given. Most people tend to focus on the crucifixion because it focuses on the pain He experienced when he died for all of mankind's sins. But, really, without the resurrection, the crucifixion could also just be a story. The crucifixion is the price that was paid by a man who claimed to be the Son of God; the resurrection is proof that the Man is who He said He was - and that his death did indeed mean Grace personified.
Happy Crossmass everyone.
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