This clip may make you as happy as it made me this morning. Peace out.
15 Mar 2013 Leave a Comment
This clip may make you as happy as it made me this morning. Peace out.
22 Feb 2013 10 Comments
Here’s the cycle of events that went down last night that forced me to confront my impending fall right into a nursing home. And how I’m actually looking forward to it.
Atleast I won’t be alone in the nursing home.
23 Jan 2013 3 Comments
It was the 80′s.
That’s my defense. I was so young, I didn’t know better. All the popular kids were doing it. I was lured into it.
And by the way – where were all the parental figures in my life that could have saved me from this fate? Turns out, they were right next to me doing the same thing. Oh well. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger – that’s what Kelly Clarkson told me. Anyway, it’s time to come clean now. To open up all my cobwebbed secrets and get them out of my head – or off my head. It’s time you all know about my deepest, darkest time. Although back then I thought I was happy. I thought I was rockin’ life. I thought I was cool. Sigh. Don’t judge me, just learn from me. I was addicted to my…
Not a long, flowing ringlets perm. This was a short, tight, helmut head perm. And I loved it. I was 10 and delusional.
With all this Michelle Obama bang talk I started thinking about my hair through the years. I rocked my hair styles yo. Sadly, some of the those styles were hideous and scary in hindsight. But that’s normal right? Right?
Listen, I had dark black hair. I couldn’t bleach it or lemon it or turn it funky colors like my blond haired pals (I’m talking to you Kelly Jensen), the most drastic thing I could do was curl it. And boy did I.
Because I’ve been absent from writing for a bit I feel like I owe you all. Big time.
To you from me PinkyLee (any Grease fans out there?). I added a recent picture of myself so you see that bad 80′s perms really do grow out and because I do not want that picture to be your lasting impression of me. Although it’ll take a while to shake the image from your mind’s eye. Trust me.
Sorry the old photo is a mess, I had to dig it out of my drawer of shame.
Phew. Now I feel better. Now we are even. All debts are paid. In full.
25 Aug 2012 2 Comments
Here’s what our Saturday morning sounds like…times 10…
18 Aug 2012 7 Comments
There’s a few posts that have been stuck in my brain – one of them is about my J.O.B – but it’s Saturday, and I really don’t want to think/write/delve into work right now. Even though I love my work to bits, we’ll save that for another day.
I’ve been meaning to tell you about the awkward, long, frustrating courtship that my husband and I had in college. To clarify – I consider “courting” everything that happened before we got together.
Let me set the scene – I was 19, he was 21. I think I’ve told you all that I met him through a friend, who had grown up in the same neighborhood. The only thing she’d told me about him was that he was….quiet, a loner. She was surprised he was even talking to her then – but apparently they were in the same class and he needed notes.
It turned out that he lived in my dorm – on my floor – across the hall from me. We started hanging out, going to lunch, going to dinner, walking to class, meeting up between classes etc. We talked about movies, family, music. He couldn’t believe that I had never listened to Neil Young, Led Zeppelin or any of the classic rock he considered Bible. Back then he was Elton John obsessed – the Springsteen obsession happened much later, during his 30s.
He made me tapes upon tapes upon tapes. I considered each one a secret message conveying his love and desire for me. But weeks, months into the talks, the walks, the chats, the meals – nothing. Not one little hint that he liked me.
I decided it was because we were never alone. My roommates, friends, etc. were always around when we were together. So I started plotting “alone” time. No go. Nothing. It was like I was stuck in a French film – all we did was talk. I was pissed. I didn’t even like all that music I was being forced to listen to – and I couldn’t deal with one more conversation about why The Godfather was the shit!
It was time to let it go. Almost.
At the end of October we heard that we’d have a concert on campus. Someone named Meatloaf was coming to perform. Huh? Who? Never heard of him. But the campus went crazy – apparently he was a corny, cheesy classic. All my gal pals started singing his “hits”. Paradise by the Dashboard Lights, I’d do Anything for Love, etc. I chalked this up to a New York thing.
Then something crazy happened – the boy told me that he’d buy me tickets to the concert because I had to go, I needed to hear him live. Now ladies, am I crazy or does this sound like a date to you? I was thrilled. Like a bat out of hell yeah I’d go (sorry).
What I didn’t realize until that night is that the loner, the shy guy, the dude who was really on his own for the most part – decided to go with 80 other people. I’d never even seen him talk to all these people – where did they come from??
Thank goodness that one of the peeps was his sister. I’d find out later that they were (and are) very close and nothing made them happier than sharing a concert together. She was the opposite of the boy. Like oil and water opposite. She was easy to smile, laugh, and be silly. I immediately loved her. She made you feel like you were her best friend the moment you met her – unlike her brother who had you go through a long, slow interview process to earn his time.
By then I was so over the weirdo courting/hanging out that I decided to just let loose and have some fun. There was cheap beer involved. We all went to the concert (where he DID NOT sit next to me, I’m just sayin’) – and then back to his room. Again – who are all these people? His sister and I spent most of the night talking – and I spilled my beans. Everyone knew I liked her brother – except her brother.
She was giddy with excitement. She begged me to tell him – she begged me to let her tell him. And because I was tired, and had just sat through the most heinous concert (where an actual meatloaf was thrown at Meatloaf) and again – cheap beer was involved – I gave in. Fine. Tell him. What did I care. Nothing was going to happen. Trust me, besides jumping him, I’d tried everything else.
So she told him. And it turned out that he liked me too. The very next night he kissed me and it was all over, for me. He told me that all those days, weeks of talking he just didn’t know. And that he wanted to be sure, really really sure that he wouldn’t be rejected. Dummy.
This is us – circa Meatloaf concert.
14 Jul 2012 Leave a Comment
Guest post by my seester. I love any blog that uses Willow Smith and Susan Cain. I’ve seen Susan live and she’s fantastic – and more corporations would have happier employees if they would listen to her – just sayin’.
Strangeness has been on my mind lately. I know that sounds…(I won’t say it)…weird, but it’s made me pretty emotional this morning, so I want to share. I followed a link from Design*Sponge (a really cool design blog that has just gotten better over the years) to Willow Smith’s new single, “I Am Me.” Since I don’t have cable and I don’t really listen to contemporary pop music or the radio, I’d never heard it before. It might not even be new now, I guess. It’s all about Willow embracing who she is, regardless of those who criticize her music or fashion decisions.
While I was watching it, I couldn’t help but think that Willow is strange. She doesn’t dress like the typical tween, her hair is shaved very close to her head, and she is a t.w.i.g. In the video, Willow actually looks like a young Will. The fact that I noticed (and I’m the last to register these sorts of things) got me thinking of our very narrow perception of beauty. You have to be white, or a minority with very European features: small boobs, small butt, angular features, straight hair (full disclosure: I only have the small butt, which just makes jeans shopping a chore). If you’re a girl, you need to look feminine.
Now you may be thinking, “DUH,” but I think what’s so powerful about this is how deeply rooted this thinking is in our global culture. Indians value light skin and European features just as much as Americans do, and I’m sure other minority cultures are the same. So what Willow is doing—flaunting her Strangeness—is really impressive because it’s having a “global” impact.
Yesterday I watched Susan Cain give a TED Talk called “The Power of Introverts,” all about how our society seems to hold extroverts and extrovert qualities on a pedestal (group work, group think, etc), when really anywhere from a third to a half of our population is made up of introverts who just don’t function as successfully in groups. Again, it had made me think about how such people are called strange for what is essentially a biological quality. How messed up is that?!
I don’t know how we go about changing such a deeply rooted problem, but isn’t step one recognition? Isn’t step two conversation? I think I made that one up, but it sounds appropriate. So parents: please share these two videos with your children, and tell them to embrace what’s strange about themselves. But remember that you have to do it too.
Here’s the Willow Smith video. If, like me, you cry if a butterfly flaps its wings in Japan, grab a Kleenex before you watch. Also, this made me think of the “Everybody Hurts” video for some reason.
And here’s the TED talk:
13 Jul 2012 Leave a Comment
That’s me. Celebrity gossip. Reality shows. Anderson Cooper. These things make me happy. People.com, Us Weekly, Dlisted.com – daily reading for me. Don’t get me wrong, I am a full-on news junkie – but pop culture has a special place in my heart, right next to chocolate and wine.
Pop Culture Vulture will be a reoccurring post – advance apologies to anyone out there rolling their eyes.
So! This be my thinking to some current gossip headlines:
Although I stopped watching Idol when Simon and his tight white tee left – I did see a couple of episodes of the show with Tyler and I didn’t get it. He seemed like a weirdo uncle flirting with all the young contestants (male and female). In all honesty I can’t really comment on him judging because I spent the majority of my time staring at Jennifer Lopez. Does her glowy, sparkly skin fascinate you too? No? If only I could have 5 minutes with her make-up bag….
The Kardashian’s. I have one thing to say to you all – Bruce included. Turn off the cameras and take a good, long, hot shower. Yuck.
I hate it when these magazines take a photo and make a story out of it. Although I’m hugely into what George does when he’s over in Lake Cuomo and on holiday in Europe. If I ever make it to Italy I may have to make a pilgrimage to see where the Clooney scoots around. I also imagine secret parties with Brad Pitt and Angelina sans kids – or maybe George and Obama solving world hunger while Michelle helps Stacy build an organic garden in the back (after explaining to Stacy what “organic” means).
I know I’ve already written about this but it’s everywhere – Brian William just did an hour-long report on them last night, although it was cleverly hidden by calling the piece, Scientology Facts and Myths. It should have been called, How to do a gossip piece and call it the news. So it’s 8 days after the first news report broke and the papers are signed, everyone’s moved out, and Tom is being re-engineered as we speak. Personally I liked Tom best when he was fighting with Brook Shields and calling Matt Lauer glib. Good times.
11 Jul 2012 Leave a Comment
My girl and her good friends from our old town. That’s the Justin Bieber wall behind them. The Biebs, the Biebster. They love him. Who am I to judge, I have posters of mandolins and pies on my wall. And that’s them making strange faces without me asking them to. Had to share with the world.
Look at this cake. This cake was made by a good friend (mother of the Bieber girls above) for her little boy who loves George Washington. Not LEGO George Washington….just plain old George! His working-full-time-and-raising-4-kids mom whipped up a homemade cake with Mt.Vernon on it for his birthday. I could cry thinking about that. She’s like a superhero.
The girls went to the boardwalk and decided to brave a scary, puke-inducing, ride. Look at my brave, crazy girl to the left – smiling and excited. Look at her two pals to the right – having normal reactions – gripping the handles and saying the lord’s prayer. I love this picture. That’s my girl in a nutshell.