Resolution 2009.

1. Move. To Boston. To Queens. To Compton. I don't care. I just need to get out of here.

2. Learn to play guitar. Go to college parties. Drown out other annoying person playing Mayer and Dave with obnoxious renditions of the 504 Boyz "I Can Tell You Wanna Fuck" and "Candyshop" by Fifty Cent ("Everybody all together now- I'll take you to the, what what, CANDYSHOP...")

3. Marry Bill Hader (SNL).

4. Well, first I need to get the restraining order reversed. Then I'll marry Bill Hader.

5. Also, get Jon Hamm restraining order reversed, or at least lessened to 250 yards.

6. But really folks, I want to find a nice guy. And if he does a really good Vincent Price impression, that'd be ok too.

7. Train Lucky to locate drugs, er, I mean cancer. Train Lucky to be one of those cancer sniffing dogs. He really needs to pick up a skill and get a job or I'm kicking him out. Otherwise, I'm just enabling him.

8. Be completely fabulous and make sure John knows it. Related: Not have a baby.

9. Watch "Friday Night Lights" when season 3 premieres on NBC in February. Because I was told that if I loved good TV, that I really should be watching this. Also, I need to start watching more "Chuck" and less "Gossip Girl." But... Chuck Bass... and Blair... Little J... and I have to... but I mustn't. It's not going to be easy.

10. Read a book a week. This means 52 books. I realized that my brain is Jell-O recently and that's just simply not acceptable. So I will read again.

and because everyone else does it:

11. Go to the gym. I really should. I miss my 2005 Hot Waitress Bod. Not saying I'm not hot, not saying that at all, but I used to be able to run back and forth with a heavy tray without needed to stop to catch my breath. "Wall-E" was really a wake up call for me.

Oh, and one more:

12. Get my dream job: Craft Services for Saturday Night Live. I'm coming Bill.

Remember when we partied like it was 1999?

BALL... hehe

To be clear, I do not think that Seacrest's Rockin New Year's Eve is, in fact, Rockin. I think it sucks. I think it sucks every year, as I think EVERY New Year's special sucks every year. I think Seacrest is an asexual Ken doll with no man parts. AND...

I think that New Year's itself is a waste of time.

"Oh, boo hoo," says the peanut gallery. "You just don't have anyone to spend it with this year."

To that I say "Fuck off." THEN I shall explain why I hate it so much.

I have had someone for the past four years to kiss when the ball dropped. (Before that, no one was good enough). Hey guess what? None of those four years were particularly good years so that throws the "But it's good luck!" theory right out the window. The Thailand Tsunami/Katrina both still happened in 05 after kissing Jeffrey on NYE 04. I kissed John NYE 05 (2006 had me dropping out of school), NYE 06 (2007 I had a nervous breakdown and also totaled my car on the way to work one morning), and NYE 07 was the beginning of the worst -WORST- year of my 25 on this planet: wrecked another car on an icey road (injuring my back), lost my job, lost my license, was jobless and car-less for six f-ing months, FCOG, the stock market crashed, a lot of good people died including Heath Ledger, the Mumbai terrorist attacks, that fuckstick Jim Pardo slaughtered his whole family on Christmas Eve, Prop 8 was approved, Sarah Palin forced her way into our lives, I'm sure Jennifer Hudson didn't really think too much about who her hot date would be, and oh yeah, in a total declaration of my self-centered-ness, John fucked me over time and time again [read About Me section].

But I digress.

I'm not complaining that this year sucked hardcore (even though it did). I'm just saying that having someone to spend NYE with is not as important as everyone makes it out to be. Bad things happen every year no matter how hot your date is that night. Actually some of the worst fights John and I ever had were spun from NYE trivialities.

It's a completely overrated holiday that can only claim any importance because it is on a list with Day Before Thanksgiving and St. Patrick's Day as one of the biggest drinking days of the year. So, excuse me if the thought of getting plastered and nearly blacking-out through what is supposed to be a "night to remember" isn't my idea of fun. But that's just a child of a recovering alcoholic speaking. Midnight happens 365 times a year (and sometimes 366). Just because we have to spend $14.95 on a new Girls Next Door calendar on 12/31, doesn't make it any different that 3/24 or 6/12 or 8/30.

The hype was over when nothing happened at 12:00 am Year 2000. Will we survive? Will the computers destroy us all? Will I have to start dressing like Neo and live in the Matrix? Do I have a generator and enough bottled water? Will I be forced to shoot someone to protect my family from crazy looters? And then... nothing. Y2K just killed it for me.

So, I'm spending New Year's by myself if you didn't catch that.

New Year's Eve plans.

Things I could be doing on Wednesday night rather than sitting at home and falling asleep at 10:38:

Hmm...


I could be watching the Jo Bros and Taylor Swifty McSwifterson on Ryan Seacrest's Hijacked Pre-Recorded Rockin New Year's Eve featuring special greeting by a half-dead Dick Clark...

Writing "Fuck 2008" in kerosene on my front lawn and then dropping a match at 12:00...

Sending out a mass email blast stating that I have all of the following STDs (followed, of course by a very detailed list and description of symptoms, pictures included) to everyone I've slept with in the past 7 years of my sexually active life with subject line, "Happy New Year, And By The Way...". Concluding with the words JUST KIDDING, BUT SERIOUSLY FOLKS- GET TESTED. THIS PSA BROUGHT TO YOU BY ME, BECAUSE I CARE...

Sitting in silence in my mother's boyfriend's living room, questioning the purpose of my life and staring at the newly installed crown molding, while the old folks play a marathon of gin rummy...

Making Thank You "for turning me into an Ice Queen who will never trust another man, ultimately taking out her repressed anger toward all men on the poor schmuck who ends up marrying her..." cards to send to the last three or four guys I've dated...

Kidnapping a little kid from the daycare next door and feed him a lot of sugar and cookies and chocolate before returning him, saying "I just found him wandering in the strip mall parking lot across the street. He was like this when I found him. I swear!"...

Going to a fancy restaurant, order really expensive champagne, a really expensive filet mignon, make them break open the 20 year old scotch, and then dash/dine (give em the ol' slip)... BUT! Leave a $100 cash tip for the waitress...- of course this will be thwarted by my inherited clumsiness (big feet + top heaviness means that I can rarely get away with anything quickly).

Teaching myself how to play "Teardrops on My Guitar" and go play outside of John's bedroom to see how much he freaks out (of course substituting John for Drew- John loooooks at meeee, I fake a smile so he wooon't seeee...)...

Having a dance party. By myself. To "Jizz in My Pants." On repeat. Wait! Mix "Jizz" with "Shake It." OK, that sounds gross (ribbed for her pleasure, ewwwww). Ok, "Jizz," "Shake It," "Womanizer," and "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off." I don't know why but I'm really liking that song again, plus it throws off the whole "2008 was all about the sex" theme I had going...

Writing my list of goals for 2009 (see next post)...

Getting in my flannel pajamas, grab a box of tissues and some chocolate and watch "Sleepless in Seattle" as I mouth the words and hold my mother's cat hostage in my lap (it's as close to masochism that I get, people)... - actually this is more of a Valentine's Day activity

So yeah. Looking at those choices, I think I'm just gonna go ahead and take some Vicodin/I mean drink a glass of wine and go to bed.

At least they have their witty signs.

I usually like to avoid commenting on topical things. I don't know enough about politics to be as smart and witty as Chez at DXM and I'm not historically astute (well in relative comparison- compared to FCOG, I'm probably brilliant) like Jason at Executed. Go to CNN if you want the news, Best Week Ever if you want to make fun of (FILL IN ANY CELEBRITY HERE) or look at Spaghetti Cats, and Dooce if you want to laugh at motherhood and homelife and all that. I only know what I know and that rarely extends past the small realm in which I live and work.

That being said, BWE.tv had a series of shots at the last Detroit Lions game of the year and I just had to share number 1.

I mean, come on LIONS. Your city is DYING. You couldn't pull it together FOR ONE GAME? Why don't you just kill all of Santa's reindeer, too? I'm not saying football miraculously heals the world (makes it a better place), but you couldn't rally at all? Really? They needed this one.

I am from Cleveland. I hate the Browns. However, they at least got their shit together this year and won SOMETHING.* Heck, they even surprised everyone by beating the Giants on Monday Night Football. That was a cold day down there in Hell, but an especially joyous Tuesday morning here in Ohio.

As I told Alanna in regards to this picture: "At least you still have sarcasm, Detroit. You'll always have that."

By the way, I am a horrible fan of any sport and make no effort to hide it. This wasn't always true, though. I was a die-hard Sox fan until they won the '04 series win and then it was like "Oh-kay, so what's next?" Really, what do you do after that? Red Sox Baseball spoiled me for the rest of sports.

Ed. Note: The Browns finished their season with a 4-12 record... and as of right now, no coach. See ya Romeo.

Christmas Pooch.

I think the one who really made out this Xmas was Lucky, my lab/pit mix. On Christmas Eve, he received his stocking (yes, I know that stockings are reserved for Christmas Morning but he's a dog so I don't think he realizes that a big fat intruder is supposed to come in on Christmas Eve). He got a 'kerchief that says "Good Dog," a stretch of the imagination since he is most certainly not, the knuckle bone of some poor slaughtered cow who didn't get to see one last Christmas, pig hides, and dental bones for his somewhat "stank" breath. Also, the cat gave him dog treats. (Lucky gave him a whole bag of catnip.) He was overjoyed. I could almost hear the conversation:

LUCKY: Dude, I got you a whole bag of bud. And you reciprocate with a few lousy biscuits? Gee, thanks man.

TOMCAT: (licking his paws in indifference) And I'm supposed to care why...?

Oddly enough, it sounded a lot like conversations between my sister and me.

Missed Connection.

One day Kalyn at work asked me if I ever really read the "Missed Connections" portion of Craigslist. I will continue with this story before telling you the prologue. My answer for her was "Not really, why?" And thus she turned me on to the poetic glory that is Missed Connections.

Reading better than any piece of modern literature I can think of to date, Missed Connections is the reality TV of reading. Interestingly enough, these people kind of have it right with short, to the point, honest requests.

"To the person in the purple skirt, thank you for your smile tonight." So many questions come up! Crocker Park? Borders? What brought him to Crocker Park? Christmas shopping for his wife and kids? And Borders Books specifically? Was it a coffee table book of Ansel Adams for his teenage daughter who has shown a recent interest in photography? This person, the one in the purple skirt, what did they look like? Why not the word "woman" or "girl"? Was it a transgender so he wasn't sure? Was he oddly attracted to this transgender? Their smile, why was that so important? Did it make him feel attractive again after 19 years of marriage to an Ice Queen that banishes sex to Tuesday nights for 12 minutes only, no blow jobs, and two lousy unappreciative teenagers that would rather spend their nights in front of a computer rather than with their family? Of course who would want to with all the yelling that goes on at the dinner table lately. Or was he depressed after having lost it all in the stock market crash and his AmEx platinum card had just been declined by a twenty year-old brat with hipster glasses and a pretentious smile? From two lines and a title, this story goes so many ways.

Then there's this one, another Bookstore Love Affair at Mac's Backs in Coventry (basically our tiny midwest version of Haight-Ashbury). It was a Saturday. She had a brimmed hat and overcoat, reading a graphic novel. He couldn't keep his eyes away from this beauty, not doubt smart and interesting for having picked such an unfeminine reading choice. He lurked in the stacks, waiting, watching her in his soggy brown wool trench coat and black driving cap. Outside the world was so cold and bitter in the Cleveland winter air, but in here, in this tiny bookstore, if only for a moment, she was his. If only he could talk, what would he say? She glanced up- like a deer in the meadow aware of the hunter. Something was out there amongst the shelves of dusty books. She waited a moment for the feeling to pass before returning to the colorful pictures below. She liked colors. They comforted her on these gray days when the stress of making sense of the symbols beside them hurt her imbecilic brain. He watched her laugh and flip through the pages. Who was this beautiful siren that could understand the dark, ironic humor of modern graphic fiction?

(Yes, I'm saying she's a slow person and he's an idiot.)

Of course, I am not mentioning the most important of all the missed connections ever listed on craigslist.com. Yes, it is true. I myself have posted amongst the despaired and hopeless romantics of cyberspace. To the guy with the Patrick Dempsey eyes, we met while we were both working in Mayfield...

Stop laughing. For one, it actually worked. And two, it was during a very long unemployed summer where the thoughts of the day were made up of "What cereal shall I eat today?" "Should I even bother to shower?" and the ever popular "Eh, these clothes don't smell that bad, what's another day?" So, a little excitement that was cheap and accessible was really just something to keep me from jumping off my roof. (Don't worry, said roof is like 15 feet off the ground.)

Christmas!

I will be "out of the office" to celebrate the holidays with my family for the next five days. To everyone out there, have a great time and merry christmas!

Daily frustrations.

While I am not shy about expressing my distaste of all things Ohio, one of the things I could always say was "At least it's not West Virginia."

Apparently, I can say that no longer. Exhibit A:


This blazer has been mysteriously "parked" in front of my house now (inexplicably) for over three weeks. I have no clue where it came from (although the Native American rally stickers plastered over the rear window lead me to assume it's one of my hippie new age landlady's friends) and really do not like the fact that every one of my friends who passes by has to bring it to my attention.

Yes, I know it's there. No, I do not know where it came from. Yes, officer, I will tell them to move it if I ever see anyone near it.

Didya go to Drug Mart across the street and just get too lazy to get back in the car? Are you still over there in the plaza- possibly eating the world's largest Won Ton noodle at Hunan? Or maybe you moved into abandoned pizza place? Other theories offered: the roads were bad and they slid off and opted just to leave it there, parking was limited at the neighboring daycare and they decided just to leave it there, they are selling it- sans for sale sign. Or, my favorite, they were finally zapped up by the Wheel in the Sky that I'm sure they pray to every night in the sweat tent on the edge of the property (no, I kid you not).

If the weather was nice, I probably wouldn't be so ornery. Let's face it though, I'm always ornery and the snow just exacerbates the situation. Worsened by the fact that my tires are balder than a waxed va-jay-jay, it is a daily challenge to keep from sliding off my own driveway into the damn thing (at a rate of 5mph).

Hot stuff.

Umm, can I just say that President-Elect has a hot bod? Good. Lord. I don't care which way you vote or swing- the evidence is RIGHT THERE. The man has a six pack! This is a presidential first for America, to be sure. I know this isn't very intelligent- but blogging when you're sick is hard.... LIKE BARACK OBAMA'S BODY. (See what I did there?)

Housekeeping note.

Because it's winter, I am sick once again. Don't worry, I'm working on some really "hot shit" for y'all (do I sound like the kids?). I just need the room to stop spinning first.

Stylista.

So my hero, Dooce, likes to put up a piece of Daily Style every day on her website. Emmy does this too, although it's not so much Daily Style as it is Daily "Look What The Idiots Are Buying Now." As you will see, both women have very different but equally entertaining blogs. Moving along, I just thought I would share my recent find with you all. To the right-and by right I mean left- is the best purchase I have made all year, seconded only by my Old Navy empire waste pea coat that makes me look like Suri Cruise. It is a grocery bag from World Market ($4.99). While there are no pockets- literally a grocery bag people- it was the beautiful teal paisley design and the peacock print that I fell in love with. There are others in different colors with different animals, but I liked this one because my coat is lined with teal satin.

So, if I had any guys reading this before, I lost them at the title of this post. Aaaaanyway.

The great/bad thing about these "purses" is that they are, in fact, BAGS. And by bags I mean a thing in which to throw stuff. In the three days I have had this, I realized that I have accrued the following:

• a random t-shirt
• a copy of "The Reader" by Bernhard Schlink
• a small notebook for ideas
• a USB zip drive thingy
• a potato
• my wallet
• cell phone
• keys
• a shoe (not two, one)
• a used kleenex
• empty Arabica coffee cup

Some of these make sense while others are slightly more questionable. My mom said that she can tell a lot by a person by what she has in her purse. Screw the DSM, shrinks should just use the Purse Method. Using that logic, she is definitely a schizophrenic. I am a compulsive hoarder. My grandma is an OCD Neat Freak. And my sister... well, let's just say she should be locked away in Promises.

I hope Jesus forgives me.

So, I have a confession to make. It is one that haunts me every Christmas- especially because I live in Cleveland and this is considered sacrilege... what's that? I'm not a browns fan? Yes, that's true but I feel that this may be even worse. Ready?

Seriously... this is bad.


I've never....


...actually seen "A Christmas Story." Ahhhhh! I know, I know. I'm sorry. Calm down. I told you it was bad. The funny thing is I get worse reactions to that here then I probably would if I told them that I was holding key evidence in the Marilyn Shepherd murder case for all these years.  Or that I really really hate the Browns.  Or that I think the Rock Hall is more of an eyesore then a tourist attraction and the whole thing should be moved to New York since it costs us more money then it makes us.  Or that I think the Cuyahoga River stinks to high heaven (burn on, biiig river, burn on).  

No, "A Christmas Story" is sacred here.  "But CJ," you ask "didn't that take place in Indiana or something?"  And you'd be right.  However, many key scenes (including in the department store) were filmed right here in the Cleve.  Ralphie's house is actually located here in Cleveland and is now a museum for fans of the film.  I think it's great that it's had such a long lasting legacy here.  You don't see a "Scarface" Museum at Tony Montana's mansion in Meeey-ami do you?  Or a Gump museum in Greenbow (ha, because Greenbow doesn't exist)?  Or a "Titanic" museum- oh wait, nevermind.   That we are part of such a film classic (considering that Hollywood hated us so much that they refused to film a movie about our own baseball team here- "Major League" was filmed mostly in Minnesota) is kind of comforting for culture vultures like myself.

That being said, I really just never have the patience to watch it.  "I thought you watched that when you were little?" my mom always says.  And I shake my head.  Because, save for the usual "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!," I have no idea what it's all about.  A kid and a gun and a lamp and Santa and a dad... I dunno.  

Call me sacrilegious, call me a phony, call me a Grinch.  Either way, I'm not going to make sure I catch it one of the 122,000,000+ times it will be on this week (including the 24 hour marathon on Christmas- which really pisses me off in itself).  The movie is the same age that I am, which doesn't mean it's bad but really kind of puts off first time viewers.

I realize that I am now "un-datable" to the many, many (ha) men that read this.  

Guess who's coming to town?!

Countdown to the big guy stands at T minus 5 days.

A to Zoolander.

So I was looking at Blogger's December Blogs of Note (mine is most definitely NOT on there) and found Life at Willow Manner.  Ooozing with idyllic adorableness like warm melted chocolate, I enjoyed the photos, recipes, and anecdotes of family life.  She's pretty crafty, you should all check 'er out.  Anyway, she had a post about how her friends had challenged her to an Alphabet listing of her 26 favorite movies.  You can go see it on her blog.  So, naturally I had to attempt this as well (this was not planned out before hand so this list is being created as I write this... ) Pardon me for the lame choices... this isn't as easy as you think.

A:  "About a Boy"

B:  This should not be this hard already.  I'll come back to it.

C:  All right, I'm stealing this one.  "Cinema Paradiso" is good and my brain is fried.

D: "Dances With Wolves" "Dirty Dancing" "The Departed"

Back to B: Ok, I'm an IDIOT. "Back to the Future." Sometimes I wonder about myself.

E:  Skip.

F: "Ferris Bueller's Day Off"

G: "Ghostbusters"

H: "Hot Fuzz"

Again, another B: I'm really dumb.  Hello- "Braveheart"?!

I:   "I Know What You Did Last Summer"

J:  "Jumanji" Shut up... do you have something better?

K:  "Kill Bill Vol. 1 and 2"

L: "Lord of the Rings" SCORE.  

M: This is for Jason at Executedtoday.com- "The Molly Maguires"  Look it up, Internet.

N: "No Country For Old Men"

O: "O Brother, Where Art Thou" Coen double feat- Heyyo!

P: "Persepolis"

Q:  I got nothing.

R: "The Royal Tenenbaums" or "Resevoir Dogs" and god dammit, another B "Boondock Saints, The"

S: "Shaun of the Dead"

T: "Tropic Thunder" which reminds me, don't ask me why, of a C that I've seen way more times then a pretentious pick like "Cinema Paradiso"... Ready for it... "CADDYSHACK!" (Cue Kenny Loggins and a dancing gopher... I'm aallll riiiiight, don't nobody worry 'bout me.  Yep, I'm that immature.)

Figured out a Q: "Quill"! Not your "feel good movie of the year" but if you want to know about the origins of S&M, I'd check it out (Hey now, it's a classy movie- Geoffrey Rush, Kate Winslet, and Joaquin Phoenix star).

U: I'll come back for u. Ha, You- U? Ya get it? U and a You?  I told you I'm burnt out.

V: "V for Vendetta"- I'm really sorry Alan Moore, but I thought it was jolly good fun.  And therein lies the problem and I totally understand.

W: "What Lies Beneath"- this is courtesy of my coworker Kalyn.  We both agree: Harrison Ford is a creep in that movie.  I would have gone with "Wayne's World" now that I'm thinking clearer.

X:  "X-Men 2."  Bet ya' thought I'd say "X-Men."  You bet wrong.  "X-Men 2": WAAAAY COOLER.

Y:  "Young Frankenstein" and for fuck's sake, another B with "Blazin Saddles."

Z:  Easy.  I knew this before I started: "Zoolander."

Ok, who did I miss?  E:  "E.T." and U: Ok, I cheated and got a list.  "Untouchables," "Unforgiven," and probably the best of overrated movies: "The Usual Suspects."  

So, I had to cheat.  I'm not an infallible super-genius when it comes to pop culture nor did I ever claim to be.

Just a quickie.

Very quickly, had to share this with you...

(Useful information: In a conversation yesterday, Alanna told me about how her coworkers have adopted "doing puzzles" as a euphemism for sex.  Then the following was said.)

Me:  Haha.  I need to puzzle someone.  Hey that actually works!

Alanna:  NO YOU DON'T.

Me: no i don't.

Alanna: You keep your pieces to yourself.

I swear if you add canned laughter after everything we said, we could easily be a bad early nineties sitcom (think "Living Single" with less-and by less I mean none- empowered black women of the nineties).

Cannot wait for 01/20/09. Paaaaartaaaay!

I don't mean to cop out and make this post totally devoid of any value you couldn't find on another and waaaay more popular blog.  But I saw these pics this morning, I just had to include them on what is rapidly becoming a Culture According to Carly Scrapbook.  It's President-Elect when he was young and possibly childish (but most likely not, because he's always been perfect.  You hear that Fox News?  ALWAYS.).  

Here, he is saying "Hmm, what will I be doing in the future?  I could do a jazz album or I could fix the world.  Or I could do a jazz album WHILE fixing the world.  Yeah, I'll do that."

Here, he is giving his best bedroom eyes.  "What's up, girl, I'm Barack Obama.  I'm going to run for president against John McCain in 2008 and kick some ass while doing it.  Yeah, THAT John McCain.  The white dude. Now come ovah here baby and let me show you my Lincoln Bedroom..."

"If I lean against this wall with my hat tilted like this I can look mysterious yet approachable at the same time.  I am Obama, I don't even need to speak to get the ladies.  What up."

I kind of like this look for him.  Very sexy.

Why do I have a feeling that he's just going to be the COOLEST guy to ever sit in the Oval Office?  I've got chills. :)

Dear Pete Wentz...

Gross.

Dear Pete Wentz,

You confuse me.  So much so that I'm having a hard time organizing my thoughts into a cohesive letter, so bare with me please.

When I first saw you, you were playing mediocre (yes, MEDIOCRE) emo music with your band, Fall Out Boy.  Being a Killers fan as well as completely against emo, quite natch' I had to pick a side.  It was not yours.  Then it seemed like there was a bunch of OMG moments like your penis being all over the internet or that you were kissing boys.  While I'm sure many 13 year old girls thought this was so so so scandalous, to the rest of the world (who probably couldn't name three of your songs) it looked like a kid acting out- that is, if anyone else besides 13 year old girls were actually paying attention.  Then you hosted some queer show on MTV on Friday nights.  Last time I checked, most people did not stay home on Fridays to watch any TV much less an obvious 2 hour long commercial for already over-exposed artists. 

We had our fun, though.  Like that one song, "I'm going down down in a merry go round and sugar I'm going down swinging..."? That was fun.  I don't remember what it was called, nor do I remember any of the words besides that one line.  Or the "Arms Race" song.  It had a good beat or something that kept my attention the solid two weeks in 07 I thought that song was totally hot (like Paris Hilton hot).  However, like all emo bands before and all emo bands after, I had to grow out of you.  

By the way, I never, ever, ever thought you were hot.

And now, well... now this.  I have to hear on not one, two, or three, but FOUR celebrity blogs that you like sticking your little Fall Out Boy in the dark place.  Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.  I'm not so sure Joe Simpson really wanted to turn on his Sirius radio to Stern this morning and hear all about how his little girl is getting bent over and... well... you know.  I really don't care where you stick it.  I just don't want to hear about it.  Hell, I don't even want to hear about my friends doing that!  

Why are you so adamant about your family's privacy when it comes to photographers taking pictures of you?  I understand that it's a little different then blasting the gory deets about your love life all over the airwaves and that little Bronx Mowgli Kahn Baloo Bagheera Simpson-Wentz is an innocent bystander in all of this (and really, I do feel bad for the kid in more ways then you could ever know).  I get it.  I just don't think that disappointing album sales or lack of interest in your kid's picks (yes, we all know no one wants them despite whatever excuse you might have), really warrants subjecting the whole world to hearing about your kinky sex adventures with your wife.  Or that she wears thongs for lap dances (*shudder* that will haunt my dreams forever).

Also please tell your sister-in-law to just stop trying so hard already.  We get it.  She's a country girl.  

Good luck with fatherhood and all that.

Sincerely,

CJ

Where are you Christmas?

With the commercial blur that Christmas has become, all of my inspiration is usually tapped out around this year anyway. This year is worse though. It's really hard to get into the Christmas spirit when everyday on the news we have to hear about more layoffs, Detroit's decline, and more bad news for the Rust Belt cities (Cleveland included). Yesterday I went to buy a gift for someone at one of the store chains (Circuit City, Linens n' Things, KB Toys) that will be closing at the end of the year. While it was a good deal, I have to say it was kind of sad to see empty shelves and inventory in disarray, picked apart by bargain hunters. The lady who checked me out at the counter seemed cheerful, and I wondered if she was only hired on as extra seasonal help to deal with the heavy traffic.

Seems like lately, everyone's smile is a little forced here despite the holidays. Even my mother's hours working at the local state park have been cut and she's been forced to take back almost all of the presents she bought. "It's no big deal, mom," I told her as tears filled her eyes when she learned of the cutback. "I don't need so many things." It was like her spirit had broken right in front of me.

Last night, however, all this malaise about Christmas didn't stop my mom from decorating our tiny tree with brightly colored antique tin ornaments and sparkly snowflakes, opting out of our usual traditional Swedish tree with straw and red ornaments. She hummed and sang along to one of her favorite movies, "Mary Poppins," as I played with my puppy on the floor and for a few minutes, I felt like a kid again.

I'm going to make cookies tonight and hopefully the aroma of little mounds of diet-busting goodness will get me out of this funk.

TAG.

Yesterday I was tagged by Overdue. Seeing that I really don't have anything else to talk about today, I'll play along. I'm supposed to list six things that make me happy and then tag six other blogs. I don't even know if that many people read this. So here goes on the first half:

1. Don Draper makes me happy. Not Jon Hamm (although I wouldn't kick him out of bed either), but 1962 Don Draper. Does it creep me out he would be older than my grandfather right now? Not really. So I guess I should start working on that fictional time machine to take me back to the fake 1960s.

2. "Jizz in My Pants" by SNL Digital Short (Andy Samberg and Jorma Taccone[?]). It's better than anything the Timberlake/land collab has done in the last 6 months (although they both make cameos- Justin as a janitor and Timba contributes back up). You will not stop singing it. Ever. Even at dinner with your grandparents.

3. My grandpa's jokes. Example: Old man gets on plane. A beautiful woman sits next to him. As the plan gets ready for take off, he smiles at her. She hesitantly smiles back. I was hoping we could have a conversation on this flight? he says to her.
About what? She asks.
I don't know. Nuclear physics? He says.
Ok. Well, let me ask you something, She says.
Ok.
You know how when deer poop it comes out in big piles?
Yes, the old man says.
Or when bunnies poop it comes out in little pellets?
Yes, the old man says, nodding his head.
Or when horses and cows poop it comes out in round clumps?
Yes, he says and wonders where this is going.
Well if they all eat grass, she says, why does it all come out looking so different?
Well I don't know, ma'am, he says. I really don't!
Ok, she says, well how do you expect to talk about nuclear physics when you don't know shit?

Hardy har har. He tells them better than I can type them.

4. Staying in bed when it's snowing. Extra points if you have a DVD player, lots of movies, and someone to keep you warm that isn't a black lab who seems to think the entire bed area is his.

5. The Fist Pump Mix. Someday I will write more about this wonderful CD, but a quick overview: my friend TJ from Miami of Ohio made me and Alanna a mixed CD of really cool music because he didn't really approve of the music we listened to. Because of this CD, I know who Ike Reilly is, I know who People Under the Stairs are, I know who Latryx is ("Lady Don't Tek No" is a hip hop CLASSIC), I know G'Love and the Special Sauce, I know the Donnas, and I know Cody Chestnutt (TJ once told me that "Looks Good In Leather" was MY song... so I kind of forever am in love with it). I will write one day about how every time that I hear it, it makes me infinitely happy. I will get the whole list and put it up here so you can see for your self how awesome it is.

6. Trivial Pursuit, Jeopardy, any trivia game show. Again an experience I will write about on a later date, but Trivial Pursuit is the only level playing ground for me and my dad. It ends up with pieces thrown across the room, boards tipped over, and in one case, a punch in the nose. Jeopardy is like exercise for me (oooh, running on the treadmill WHILE watching Jeopardy is the best workout ever) that trains me for the yearly TP game with dear ol' Dad. Also, trivia games at the bars- because flattening your friends with your extensive knowledge of French history AND Tom Cruise movies is just so satisfying.

and for a lucky 7: TV and Food combinations. For example:
"The Princess Bride" and chocolate lava cake. "How I Met Your Mother" and a cheeseburger. "Lost" and sushi/anything with avocados. "Lord of the Rings" trilogy and lots of beer (it's like nine hours long, so I really mean LOTS of beer) and hearty German food (pretzels, sausage, etc). "Mad Men" and a nice filet mignon with a rich cabernet. I don't know why these things go so well with each other, they just do.

As for tags, I tag my number one fan izzie_tisha, huffmania, oh the places i will eat, and whoever else has ever commented on this blog. Tag, you're it.

Monday musings.

Keeping this short, but this is what my day has consisted of.

..."Should I get Arabica (coffee house here)? No. Should I? No I'm not."
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP (from car behind me as I make up my mind)
"Yeah, I'm not getting Arabica."

...Come into work. The girl who "took"* my promotion comes in...

(shoulda seen that one coming)

...Try to restrain myself while making reservations for my boss to not fill out form as "Ms. Chanandler Bong." Laugh to myself at him being addressed as such.

...Exchange angry emails with former coworker who seems to not know how to read.

...Go to BWE.tv for some quick relief only to see clip of Spencer and Heidi: The Day After.

...Wonder why, if Heidi is so damn happy, does she keep mentioning how drunk she was/hungover she now is/probably wouldn't of dun it if she wasn't so damn drunk?

...Take a moment to contemplate whether or not I would still do Tom Cruise. Answer: YES.

...Text my former hot fling/sales rep from previous employment to razz him about new job (because it was my job before him).

...Look at executedtoday.com and deusexmalcontent.com. Learn about decimation and a Facebook movie respectively. For some reason, the concept of decimation makes more sense.

...Look at diamonds to buy for myself to show off how much of an Independent Woman (throw ya handsup at maaaee) I am.

...Realize maybe I should buy presents for my family members before purchasing said diamonds.

...Realize maybe before that I should pay some bills so I don't end up out on my ass during a recession before I go into debt buying presents.

...Realize maybe I should stop blogging before I don't have job to pay said bills.

...Realize, "Oh yeah, no one gives a shit what I do here. That's why I didn't get promoted."

...Laugh to myself about what/who I may or may not have done on the couch in the conference room last week.

...George Bush got a shoe thrown at him. HA. I love Iraqis. Sorry we F'ed up your country. Really, though, I am so sorry.

..."Should I go tanning? No. Maybe. Should I go? I'm not gonna go."
Cut to sitting in the middle of intersection deciding which way to turn. BEEEEEEP.
"Maybe I'll go tanning."

So pretty much that and an episode of "How I Met Your Mother" with some tekka maki or something to eat, and that is my Miserable Monday.

*she's nice so this isn't an FCOG the Sequel thing or anything like that... she's actually almost cooler than I am.

Open letter to Lindsay Lohan.

Lindsay Lohan

123 Train Wreck Lane

Lindseyville, Planet Lindsey 01562

RE: You

Dear Miss Lohan:

I would like start off by saying that I really liked "Mean Girls."  I thought it was an accurate and humorous portrayal of high school girls.  Whether it is more you or more Tina Fey's wit and general awesomeness that made the movie so successful, we will never know (but really, it was probably in all likelihood Tina Fey).  I even wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt with "Georgia Rules," which while kind of disturbing and a little wretched, was an OK movie.  I even ignored the whole party girl thing, possession of coke thing, chasing your assistant and her mom in a car you hijacked thing.  Or the you're getting on Stevie Nicks's last nerve thing. Even the bi thing.  Cool, you like muff diving- more power to ya (although I'm still not convinced that you're the one doing the actual diving).

What I will not, WILL NOT, stand for is your new legging line, "6126."  I think leggings are cute and slimming.  This is not about the leggings trend.  This is about YOUR leggings.  Are they made of gold?  Will they turn me into Adriana Lima (who I've never actually seen wear leggings, but then if I had her legs, I probably wouldn't want to either) or maybe the Klum?  Do they prevent cancer?  Can they solve the economic crisis?  Yeah, the economic crisis- ever hear of that?  It's the reason that NO ONE will be purchasing your $133 pair of leggings.*  Hey, if there's a woman out there who really wants to bring back the "JERSEY GIRL" look, that's great- but rest assured that woman will not pay $77 for the pair of leggings pictured above.

I understand that you idolize Marilyn Monroe and that "6126" is your tribute to her (because it's her birthday).  Marilyn Monroe was a size 12 who embraced her curves and used them to her advantage, achieving iconic levels of sexuality.  Take a hint, Linds.  Scrawny, coked out pseudo-lesbian this woman wasn't.

So, coming from someone with more than enough daddy issues of her own, stop trying to piss your father off by dating a girl, take some time off, maybe go to India or Cambodia (like Angelina) and do some soul searching.  Then come back in a couple of years with an Oscar-caliber performance in something worth watching.  And maybe your old figure- you were way hotter with the tits/ass, girl.  

Peace,

CJ

PS: Your red hair was beautiful.  Any chance of that coming back?

*And yes, I realize that "fashionistas" everywhere are lining up for these but when I say no one, I mean no one whose parents don't already pay their credit card bill.

I like dudes with scars, part two.

I guess there's a theme going today. Because I just remembered this from HIMYM on Monday:

"If a guy's got a scar he's got a Robin, and if he's missing teeth, I'm missing my pants."- Robin, in probably one of the best episodes of the season ("The Fight") explaining that because she's from Canada, tough guys get her attention. There were many more like this, but you have to watch the episode to get the context of them and fully appreciate.

However, sadly, I have to agree with her. Except maybe the teeth part.

I like dudes with scars.

HOT

So, last night I went over a friends house (because she had just bought a HiDef ginormous flat screen telly with a Blu-Ray player-thing) to watch movies. I have to say, there is a difference with HiDef and Blu-Ray. As in the experience that I was about to have... let's just say, it would not have worked on a nineteen inch tv (like the one my broke ass has).

"The Dark Knight."

I mean, for those who have seen it, need I say more? I regret not getting off my ass and going to see this in the theaters. This movie was all I wanted it to be and more. There's a feeling that football fans get when there's a great sack or baseball fans when there's a brawl or hockey fans when that first punch is thrown out, or Nascar fans when someone hits the wall or spins out... it's a little twisted, but it's that getting "dirty" aspect that we all just love the comes from our gut and gives us such a great sense of satisfaction.

"The Dark Knight" was two and a half hours of that feeling. For me, anyway.

As you all know by now, Heath Ledger (the Joker) died shortly after making this. I do believe that it's an incredible performance and that he would have gone on to do more amazing things. I do believe that he totally made us say "Jack who?" when it came to others who have played the role before him. I think it's amazing that he is nominated for a Globe and quite possible a post-humus Oscar. I hope he wins. He was the first Batman villain I was actually afraid of.*

But, he wasn't my favorite.

My favorite, as has always been my favorite in the cartoons, the two "graphic novels" I have read, and Joel Schumacher's "Batman Forever," is Harvey Dent. Two-Face. I don't know why he's my favorite, maybe because he flips a coin and he is a physical manifestation of the duplicity of man or something from some film student's thesis, maybe because his story is so sad (no matter which version it is). In the modern films, three actors have played him. Billy Dee Williams (betcha forgot about that one) in "Batman," Tommy Lee Jones in "Batman Forever," and now in Christopher Nolan's version, he is played by new love of my life Aaron Eckhart.

And I have to say, if not for Ledger's death, I think Eckhart would have garnered more attention for the role. He plays something rare for the first half of the movie: a real good guy who is incorruptible. He's a Captain America and, not to spoil too much, he's the guy that Bruce Wayne himself believes is the rightful successor to save/protect Gotham.** And then some shit goes down.

This would be the part of the movie where I just couldn't contain myself anymore and let out a Turret's type of "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!!! OH HOLY SHIT." From there, things just happen. If you haven't seen the movie, let's just say picture above turns to picture below. It's kind of tough to watch, both visually (cause it's a little gross) and emotionally.

NOT SO HOT.

Some critics have complained the movie ran a little to long. I say to them, "Suck it." There was a moment or two in the last act that I thought, Ok, this is a little long, but that was because I just drank two Pepsis and had to pee really bad. As the bat signal was smashed and the credits rolled, I tried to think what I would have cut as an editor. And the answer: Not a damn thing. For two and half hours, I didn't think about my drama or my problems. I was completely captivated. So, thanks Christopher Nolan (and a dream cast of Bale, Eckhart, Gylenhaal, Freeman, Cain, Ledger, Luis from "Suddenly Susan," William Fichtner, and for Godssake ERIC ROBERTS). Ya dun good.

*Technically that's not true, because to a 9 year old- the Penguin in Tim Burton's "Batman Returns" was pretty terrifying (he ate RAW FISH). I'm just saying, as an adult in a post-9/11 world and watching all these movies again now, Ledger's Joker is sobering and gritty.

**By the way, I would never ever ever want to live in this city. For sixty-plus years they've had some frickin psychos running around! And, the mob seems to bit too prevalent.

Lost.

Ever hear a song at the exact right moment? I heard this one this morning as I was driving in the rain to work. They are amazing and I will never forget the first time I heard "Yellow." I've loved them since I was in high school. Only U2 do I love more.

This is a total fan-girl post, I apologize. Next thing you know, I'll be posting about how I like "Twilight." But, really, that will NEVER happen. I promise.

The musical.

As my coworker Mar would say, I love drama.  So I thought, what would "And I Stole Your Hat, Too" look like as a successful Broadway musical drama?  And the result was a combination of my fascination with musical theater and my pathetically annoying problems:

AND I STOLE YOUR HAT, TOO:

A Childish Musical Drama*

Starring

CJ

as

"Heroine"

John 

as

"Prince Asshat"

FCOG (not an FCOG, but really, FCOG)

as

"Princess Twat"

PVille Guy

as

"Sir Douchebag"

and

Alanna

as

"the Best Friend"

(*Actually, it may be more a long the lines of a Shakespearean Comedy now that I think about it, but funny in the way that "Merchant of Venice" was funny... like kind of not funny but it's considered a comedy because no one actually dies.)

Act I opens with a colorful and happy piece called "Don't Ever Talk to My Boyfriend Again" sung by Princess Twat while she is at a Halloween party.  Followed by a jazzy upbeat dance number with the Heroine singing "Tell Your Fucking Whore of A Girlfriend that She Should Watch Her Baby Instead of Worrying about Me" to Prince Asshat as she secretly steals his hat. (Of course, this will be choreographed by Twila Tharp.  Kicklines and tap dancing and leaping across the stage.  It will be amazing.)  Prince Asshat responds with "Don't Ever Talk to Me Again, You Stupid Bitch." Then Sir Douchebag comes into the picture and sings a song about, oh I don't know, being a complete tool ("The Toolman"). End scene.

Intermission.

Overture.

Act II begins with a song by Prince Asshat singing a lovely ballad called "I Love Her but You Mean So Much To Me Still" but that will turn into "Wait, No, I'm Confused and I Changed My Mind Again" and then a reprise of "Don't Ever Talk to Me Again, You Stupid Bitch."  Followed by the Heroine singing the title song, "And I Stole Your Hat, Too" as she creates a blog.  "I shall post things about you, dear Prince, and your immaturity, and that stupid Princess Twat and her insecurity!"  Followed by a dance number in the middle.  "And you, Sir Douchebag, will get a post too so don't, please don't, threaten to sue!"  But he does.  And there's a big crazy scene where he yells at her (singing "Young, Dumb, And Full of..."-you knew that was coming- and tells her that she's taking advantage of their "friendship" and she cries.  End scene.

Intermission

Overture

Final Act.  Opens with the Best Friend singing a song called "You're An Idiot, We're Going to Boston" to the Heroine and she realizes that all these people are morons.  "You're right! My God, you're right! I don't know how I lost my siiiiiiiight!" the Heroine sings.  As Prince Asshat and Princess Twat come on to the stage she shakes his hand and hugs her and sings "I'm Over It."  "You can have him, you can have him, he's not that great anyway.  He's bad at sex, he's really stupid, and there's never an intelligent thing he'll say."  Sir Douchebag comes in singing the reprise of "Young, Dumb, And Full of..." and she continues to sing "I'm Over It," ending with a big flip of the bird.  And then her and the Best Friend dance off to Boston in "I'm So Glad That You Losers Live in Ohio (See Ya)" with the chorus line.  Fade to black (yeah, I know that's a screenwriter's, not a playwright's, term).

Curtain.

It's lame but I'm tired and loopy and bored.  I know, I'm reaching on this one.  Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

Nothing lasts forever...

"... even cold December rain."  (Yeah, yeah, I'm taking liberties on the one GNR song that I actually, honestly, truly love with all my heart).  

The news called it a "Panhandle Hook."  I guess that means when you get lots of rain up from the Panhandle, although which panhandle they are talking about I'm not so sure (Oklahoma, Florida... are there any others?).  However, it is raining today and the white snow is melting away to expose a little green, lots of mud, and the smelly presents Lucky the Gimpy Lab has left for me to pick up around the yard.  This morning, I couldn't find the cat and left for work a little worried.  It seems like every time it gets a little warmer (and this is unusual for Ohio in December, albeit not unusual in its unusualness) he gives me the finger and runs away, leading to horrible visions of his furry mangled corpse on the side of Route 306.  

On top of all this, there is an odd goo exuding from my right ear today.

It was just one of those mornings that it was oddly warm and staying in bed was just not comfortable anymore... this rarely happens to me.  Lucky was already anxious to get up and get going (because he has such a busy day ahead of him licking his crotch).  So with a "ho hum" I got up and checked the roads outside and headed downstairs to begin another day in grayness.

Last night, I thought about a lot of things.  I've finally worn myself out worrying about what John's doing or what the hell went wrong with PVille guy.  There is quiet in my head.  That wrenching feeling is no longer in control of my gut and heart.  Now is the time for me, was the conclusion I came to.  I want that apartment in Boston.  I want that job, whatever it may be.  I want the life I've wanted since I was ten and the only way of getting that is saying, ahem, "FUCK OFF" to those who stand in my way by way of distraction or lessening my worth. 

It may be cloudy outside, but my thoughts have never been clearer.

Side note: at this moment, I am on hold with a client and the hold music is a lovely muzak version of "Fools Rush In" which is one of my favorite Elvis Presley songs.  

Bug.

On the first day I started working here, I found this guy hanging out.  I thought maybe as the weather changed, he would move it along.  However, here we are 3 months later and he's stil l residing in my cubicle.  He has unofficially become my pet although what he has survived on for sustenance for this long is beyond me.  Not like this office is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to bug food.  We have two plants and both are half dead.   I don't know what to name him... I'm not even sure what species he is.  If anyone has insight to  this, please let me know.

"You're over me? When were you 'under' me?"

If someone was to try and follow the threads that Alanna and I have going on Gmail, they would wonder why our parents haven't considered institutionalizing us.  Here, Alanna sums up my current situation with John:

"Is it wrong that the first thing that pops into my head every time you bring up John is that you two are so Ross and Rachel?  Except in this relationship, you're the one that knows the difference between "you're" and "your".  This move will be great for you - a little distance will heal your heart, and you can be as fabulous as you were meant to be, until the day that John grows up (a lot) and makes you not want to move to France.  Or something."

She is also the same person that told me he and I were soulmates, so I kind of believe her.  Not that I want him back right now... but it's all about looking at the bigger picture.

Drunk History.

Not feeling very well today... here's something to tide you over until I do.

See more Michael Cera videos at Funny or Die

By the way, just because I'm not feeling well and I posted something about being wasted should not lead you to assume that I am hungover. I just haven't felt well all weekend- and no alcohol was involved.

This guy, however, will be hungover tomorrow.

You gotta fight. For your right.

The following is a list of proposed parties for the new apartment (which is really funny considering it doesn't actually exist yet):

1. "Mad Men" party. Boys in suits, girls in fifties office wear- ie: tight sweaters and skirts. The invitation will read "Sterling Cooper invites you to its annual staff party." Much scotch will be imbibed. Lots of smoking. Maybe some sex in a supply closet.

2. Nineties party. Lets face it. To kids born in the eighties, the nineties are OUR eighties. Dress as Cobain, Cher Horowitz, in swing dance clothing, or Latin clothing, or like a supermodel, or a raver or really anything because the 90s was pretty much a smorgasboard of excess and schizophrenic music. "Empire Records" and "Reality Bites" (which are really the best quintessential 90s culture movies EVER) will play in background.

3. 80s Hip Hop party. See below.

4. 80s Movie party. Dress as Marty McFly (with the life preserver vest) or Baby Houseman or Robocop (I guess). Or you could go with Ferris Bueller, Cameron Fry, and Sloan Peterman but I am not sure where you'd find a hot white leather jacket in this day and age.

5. Royal Tenenbaums party. The characters have such classic costumes, I say "Why the hell not?" Richie, Eli, Margot, Royal, Chaz, Ari, Uzi, Pagoda... Buckley... get creative. Points for being able to take "family style" portraits of the guests.

Why I can't think of any other ones, I'm not sure, because we've been throwing them around. This, of course, is contingent on the idea we actually GET an apartment. And friends.

I heart Pegg.

By the way, I'm not crazy making shit up about Simon Pegg and Nick Frost being British b-boys. This just proves it. And makes my heart ache knowing that he is married... (because I totally had a chance in Carly-world). Cannot wait for "Star Trek" movie... that just affirms that I am a nerd in hot girl's clothing.

50!

FUTURE PARTY GUESTS...

Well, I'm going to NOT post something to celebrate that this little hobby has kept my attention for a full month and fifty posts. Instead, I would like to share with you my weird experience this morning.

So all day yesterday I was singing "Criminal" by Fiona Apple. While it is a pretty popular song, it's from 1998 or something around there and usually doesn't play a lot out here on Ohio radio. We have a couple of "alternative" stations, one of them is 92.3. Unfortunately, it had been playing Rover's Morning Glory, a shock jock testosterone-fueled morning show that previous boyfriends had made me listen to until my head was about to explode. Well that got cancelled, which is AWESOME. And now 92.3, starting this week, has done away with any and all DJs and now just plays on random to save money (it was on the news last night). Poor DJs, but good for me!

So what is the first song I hear when I turn the radio on this morning? "Criminal"! Coincidence you say? How about the fact that before "Criminal" was stuck in my head... I was singing "No Sleep Till Brooklyn" by the Beastie Boys yesterday. Guess what the next song was? Yep. No. Sleep. Till BRROOKLYNNNN!

So you're probably all, "Who gives a fuck?" And really, no one does. I just thought it was oddly coincidental that I predicted the first two songs to play this morning without even realizing it on a station that only JUST started playing music in the morning again. It wasn't like a top 40 station. That's easy: it'll be a Rhianna song or it'll be a song with T-Payne in the background on his decoder. These were random songs from 10+ years ago.

I'm psychic.

So when I remembered my dreams from last night... I knew good things would be ahead. For example, I had a dream that I was dating the older plastic surgeon whose name I can never remember on "House." Not Olivia Wilde, not Omar Epps, not Kal Penn, not Hugh Laurie, no Sean Patrick Leonard (although Wilson is fiiiine)... the other guy. Reaffirming my theory that I love middle-aged men (by the way, I have a sudden reinterest in "House" after not watching for 2 years).

Then I had to get up to let my dog out at 1am.

Then I went back to sleep and had a dream I was at an 80s hip hop party and Simon Pegg (who I am so in love with that it's crossing over into delirious fantasy) was spinning on the turntable while Nick Frost did some awesome b-boy moves on a piece of cardboard.

Naturally I came to the conclusion that upon moving to Boston, I will date a plastic surgeon and have awesome hip hop parties at the new apartment where British actors come and entertain me.

Addict.

Dictionary.com defines addiction as:

"the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma."

I bring this up only because I think I'm addicted to texting (a realization made after reading through some previous posts). Which is totally not my fault. At my last job, that's how I communicated with my coworkers all the time. It was like hanging out with the bad kids that said "just try it, all the cool kids do it." And before I knew it, it was too late for me. Thank God for unlimited plans. Then I thought, geez, what else am I addicted to?

I came up with a list.

1. Blogs. I cannot complete my day if I haven't read Perez, Chez, Dooce, or ExecutedToday.com. I need my daily fix of death, celebrity, mockery, and babies/cute dogs. I get itchy and cranky if I don't.

2. CNN. I watch the Situation Room when I get home from work. I have to. Otherwise, I feel like I have no idea what's going on.

3. Keith Olbermann. Not so much as an addiction as an infatuation.

4. The History Channel. This is one of those things where I don't need it every day, but if I start watching it, five hours of my life will go by before I realize I need to pull myself together and get off the couch. It's kind of like binge drinking.

5. Shopping online. If I could live inside the four walls of my house and never go outside it would be fine as long as I had a laptop and a fast internet connection. Amazon.com is my downfall. I love the smell of new books (see 6).

6. New books. Barnes and Noble and Amazon.com and Target. If I walk past a new book with a cool cover... I will pick it up, smell it, flip through it, feel the pages under my finger.

7. According to my family, arguing. I have to be right and I will yell until I am blue in the face. I guess this would be the unhealthy part of addiction.

8. Shoes. Because every girl is. It's in our genes.

9. Sweettarts. Don't even get me started.

10. "Your Love" by the Outfield, any Huey Lewis song, Eddie Money songs, basically any kind of music you would hear in a sports bar. I thought I would get sick of "Your Love" but it has this power that every time I hear it, I need to hear it five more times. It's just too good to be that short. And while this cessation does not cause severe trauma to me, it does to the people around me.

So, I'm off to rehab now. Hopefully this post makes you less annoyed with the previous one. :)

Family Ties.

I know, I know, I'm super bad for not posting anything on Monday like I promised. I feel bad but I promise you I was busy at work yesterday. Not to mention, I just didn't feel like writing and getting myself all worked up again.

Holidays are for realizing you really only need two days a year to see your family, maybe three: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and maybe Easter (this depends on how big of a dinner you have that day or if you still get Easter baskets from your mom- I do). This had never been more apparent to me then on this past Thursday. It actually started the Monday before with my evil sister's arrival.

Have you ever seen "Mean Girls"? My sister is the character of Regina George realized. To put it nicely, she's the Queen Bee. She was in high school and she was when we were at college together and she still manages to monopolize the small group that makes up my family. I love her because I'm obligated to. I don't like her.

When we were at Kent together, she managed to con me into writing her papers. I also lent her money. I also bought her alcohol (she is two and a half years younger than me). In high school, I watched her date guys I had crushes on that were my age. And through all of this, I was always made to feel like I owed her something.

Cut to this TG. I had lent her money that was wired transfered at an interest rate of $20 via Western Union. I spent an hour on the phone at work to make sure she got her money. She assured me that the day after Thanksgiving, we would go shopping and she would pay me back. Well, instead she bought the turkey and Thanksgiving dinner with the money. She cooked and set up my grandmother's whole house. So when I asked for the money she owed me, I was told by my grandparents and mother to "stop being so ungrateful" and "pitch in around the house." Later, when I asked for the money and an apology, she rolled her eyes and told me I was being immature.

I shook my head and just let her be the Queen Bee, convinced I would still receive the money owed to me. I didn't want to ruin my grandparents' holiday so I kept my mouth shut.

On Friday, she made me aware that she would NOT be shopping with me, as was our tradition, because she'd rather be with her boyfriend. "Maybe if you thought about anyone but yourself, you would understand." And like an idiot, I brushed it off and went on to buy her and my mother several Christmas presents.

Then, Saturday morning, I asked my mom when sis would be stopping by to repay me. "Your sister left for Charlotte again this morning. She said she isn't repaying you because you owe her money I guess."

Folks, to say I was mad was an understatement. Again, I texted ad nauseum from the "You burned a bridge, don't ask me for any favors ever again" to "You're a manipulative snot" to "Your problems are not my problems, please don't call me with them ever." This time, I really don't even feel bad for it either.

My whole entire life (and I don't mean to sound like a bitter older sister, because I'm really not) it's been all about what she does. Parents do pick favorites, and she's it. I accepted that a long time ago. What I will not accept is letting her use that to her advantage.

The presents have gone back. I think $120 is a fair enough Xmas gift.

Happy Thanksgiving!

On my way to my grandparents' house today, I started to get a little emotional and yes... I cried. Everything- PVille Guy, John, etc.- just hit me all at once. I am alone, I thought. Alone during the holiday season. And then I turned on Cleveland's 92.3 and this little gem came on. And Adam Sandler once again saved the day. I smiled, laughed a little, and said out loud (alone in my car), "Life is not that bad. I am not in India and I am going to see a family that loves me." So, I will be spending the rest of the evening (post-dinner) watching "Billy Madison," "Happy Gilmore," and of course, "Mr. Deeds."

"Fifty First Dates" ain't that bad either. But that one tends to make me cry... go figure.

Happy Turkey Day!! Peace on Earth! I will be back on Monday.

Apply yourself.

In an effort to screen out any possible psychos, arsonists, racists, people from Eastlake, OH, or self-mutilators, I created this easy to follow application for my next potential suitor.  

NAME: ___________

ANY OTHER ALIASES (please stop here if this includes "T-Bone," "Biggie," "Jhonny Knots," "Goose," "Maverick," or "Iceman"):__________________

ADDRESS (again, please stop here if this includes East Cleveland, Eastlake, Painesville, Madison, anything in Lake County really, Tennessee/Kentucky, or RED states): __________

HAVE YOU EVER APPLIED BEFORE?      CIRCLE ONE       YES         NO

*at this point, if yes, please discard application and lose my number

ARE YOU EMPLOYED? ______  PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT: __________

ANNUAL SALARY:_________ (This will not be used in the decision making process... I swear. LOL.).

HOW MANY SEXUAL PARTNERS HAVE YOU HAD?   ______

*if number less than 4 or greater than 30, please discard application.

DO YOU HAVE CHILDREN?  IF SO WHAT ARE THEIR AGES?:  ________

DO YOU HAVE/OR HAVE YOU HAD ANY STDS?  CIRCLE ONE (documentation to be provided upon request)  YES     NO

HAVE YOU BEEN A CAST MEMBER ON "I LOVE NEW YORK I or II," "THE REAL WORLD," "SUNSET TAN," OR "MILLION DOLLAR LISTING?":     CIRCLE ONE   YES     NO

*Again if yes, please discard application now.  RIGHT NOW.

ESSAY QUESTIONS (please keep under 250 words):

1.  I got you tickets to a _________ (fill in event you are interested in).  You thank me how?

2. My car's battery died because I probably left the lights on like the airhead I am.  I call and tell you.  What do you say?

3.  I spend a whole summer carting your lanky ass around to work because you lost your car, even going so far as to let you borrow it when I'm on vacation.  How do you intend to make sure that the favor is returned?

4.  My mother is crazy and my father is an arrogant asshole.  How do you greet them when you first meet (on separate occasions, because they are divorced)?

5.  I'm feeling sad.  How will you cheer me up?

MULTIPLE CHOICE:  I make a huge mistake and say some very  mean things to you.  Then I apologize and ask for forgiveness (keep in mind, I've forgiven you for plenty).  You:

A.  Call me a spoiled brat who is "young, dumb, and full of cum."

B.  Flip out and threaten to sue me over a stupid blog post.

C.  Change your phone number.

D.  Say, "It's cool.  I forgive you but you better make it up to me later, girl." And then smile and say you're sorry for acting like such a douchebag to me.

Finally, I need at least three references.  2 must be professional and one must be an ex-girlfriend or a female friend.  After a quick credit and background check, I will let you know if you have made it to the final round of interviews.

By signing here, you are acknowledging that all information provided is accurate.

___________________________

Thanks,  The Management.