2 minutes left to post tonight! Go!
Did I ever regale y'all with the story of the Anne Frank bathroom? June over at Bye Bye Pie was talking about Anne Frank, which (because I am a tad shallow) reminded me of an apartment I once lived in, an apartment with a faux-wood-panelled hallway.
Very classy, yes? This apartment was in a college town, in the basement of a gorgeous old house that had been split up into several separate living quarters. It was centrally located, meaning that I could hear all the people leaving the collegetown bars at night - mostly because they stopped in the alley behind my bedroom window to throw up.
I told you - classy.
Where was I? Oh, yes - the hallway....
There was a bathroom opening off the hallway. When the bathroom door was shut, you couldn't see it; it was made of the same fake wood panels as the walls in the hall. I had a friend who, any time he came to visit, would insist on opening what he called the "hidden" door, just to make sure there wasn't a Jewish family hiding in my bathtub.
This cracked us up. Every single time. A different year, we almost got kicked out of Rosh Hashanah services on campus because we were giggling too loudly. Guffawing, actually.
Look, if you weren't brought up Jewish, you won't get it. Just go over to June's place and see what she thinks about everyone's reading a poor dead girl's diary. And be treated to snippets of June's 12-year-old thoughts from 1980, as a bonus...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Don't Shop For Me At Home Depot...
Perhaps it isn't wise of me to sit around waiting for Larry to come up with a good anniversary gift, considering his gift-giving history. Let's see, we all recall the bananas he gave me last Valentine's Day, correct? So perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised on Christmas morning when he handed me a package and urged me to open it. It was long, with something that felt suspiciously like a brush on one end.
"You didn't," I said.
"What?"
"It's something to clean my car off with. You got me an ice scraper for Christmas?"
"It's a pretty color," he promised.
Oh! Being a sucker for any happy combination of form and function, I tore off the wrapping to discover a handy-dandy windshield scraper/brush in the dainty color of....
Construction-truck yellow?
How...um...feminine....
Larry, noting the puzzled expression on my face, said, "Look! It's got a telescoping handle!"
"I thought it would be purple..."
"See? It pulls out so you can reach the whole windshield!"
"Are you telling me to clean off my own car and stop bothering you?"
"I thought you'd want something you could reach the top of the van with," he said, hurt.
Apparently, chivalry is dead.
"You didn't," I said.
"What?"
"It's something to clean my car off with. You got me an ice scraper for Christmas?"
"It's a pretty color," he promised.
Oh! Being a sucker for any happy combination of form and function, I tore off the wrapping to discover a handy-dandy windshield scraper/brush in the dainty color of....
Construction-truck yellow?
How...um...feminine....
Larry, noting the puzzled expression on my face, said, "Look! It's got a telescoping handle!"
"I thought it would be purple..."
"See? It pulls out so you can reach the whole windshield!"
"Are you telling me to clean off my own car and stop bothering you?"
"I thought you'd want something you could reach the top of the van with," he said, hurt.
Apparently, chivalry is dead.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Lights! Camera! Action!
Last Sunday was Larry's and my 19th anniversary; and I spent the day being smugly cognizant of the fact that Larry did not seem to be aware of this momentous occasion. Unlike last year, I plotted to spring the news on him the next morning and ruminated gleefully on all the ways I could milk this mistake of his over the next year. Oh, I had plans, people!
Of course, Larry ruined everything by wishing me a happy anniversary at 8 o'clock that evening. He claims he knew all along what day it was, but we were just so busy preparing for that day's visitors (old friends were dropping by) that he didn't have time to mention it earlier. What? No time for a simple kiss on the cheek? It's not as if he would have had to run out to the store to buy it, right?
I think I've been had. Next year? That guy will have a bridge to sell me.
Also? Larry and I went out for our annual movie date today, using the movie theatre gift card I bought him for Christmas. No problem with that, except he counts this excursion as a belated celebration of our anniversary.
Um...no. The movie was for Christmas. From me. Larry is still on the hook for some sort of anniversary commemoration, don't you think?
Anyway, we went to see Up in the Air because (and I know
most of you will not believe this) I had never seen George Clooney in anything - TV, movies, nada.... In fact, the first time I ever heard of him was when Mrs. G listed him as one of her many secret boyfriends.
It's true, I live under a rock. And I'm comfortable there.
Up in the Air was a good movie for any number of reasons, including the fact that the main character did not bed a woman young enough to have been his daughter (thank you Jason Reitman); but Larry and I arrived at the theater too late to get popcorn. We ended up buying some afterwards and sitting together in the lobby to eat it. We looked weird. Homeless, even. And I was disappointed to discover that even though George makes for some delicious eye candy, his magazine-y good looks are just not my type. I prefer quirky good looks myself. Sorry, George - but in the highly unlikely event you come calling, I'm not home.
Yes, Larry, I just called you quirky-looking. Now get going on that anniversary gift, will ya? It shouldn't be too difficult. Simply try to imagine - What Would George Clooney Do?
[Up in the Air photo courtesy of www.daemonsmovies.com]
Of course, Larry ruined everything by wishing me a happy anniversary at 8 o'clock that evening. He claims he knew all along what day it was, but we were just so busy preparing for that day's visitors (old friends were dropping by) that he didn't have time to mention it earlier. What? No time for a simple kiss on the cheek? It's not as if he would have had to run out to the store to buy it, right?
I think I've been had. Next year? That guy will have a bridge to sell me.
Also? Larry and I went out for our annual movie date today, using the movie theatre gift card I bought him for Christmas. No problem with that, except he counts this excursion as a belated celebration of our anniversary.
Um...no. The movie was for Christmas. From me. Larry is still on the hook for some sort of anniversary commemoration, don't you think?
*****************
Anyway, we went to see Up in the Air because (and I know
most of you will not believe this) I had never seen George Clooney in anything - TV, movies, nada.... In fact, the first time I ever heard of him was when Mrs. G listed him as one of her many secret boyfriends.It's true, I live under a rock. And I'm comfortable there.
Up in the Air was a good movie for any number of reasons, including the fact that the main character did not bed a woman young enough to have been his daughter (thank you Jason Reitman); but Larry and I arrived at the theater too late to get popcorn. We ended up buying some afterwards and sitting together in the lobby to eat it. We looked weird. Homeless, even. And I was disappointed to discover that even though George makes for some delicious eye candy, his magazine-y good looks are just not my type. I prefer quirky good looks myself. Sorry, George - but in the highly unlikely event you come calling, I'm not home.
Yes, Larry, I just called you quirky-looking. Now get going on that anniversary gift, will ya? It shouldn't be too difficult. Simply try to imagine - What Would George Clooney Do?
[Up in the Air photo courtesy of www.daemonsmovies.com]
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Gone And (Maybe) Forgotten
5 days? 5 days I go missing and you folks don't even send out a search team? That's about 6 months in blog years, you know.
And I don't even have a good excuse. None. Oh, maybe I was trying to garner a little attention, trying to see how many readers would bother to stop by to see how I was doing (answer: not a lot). Or maybe I was like the 9-year-old girl at the slumber party who pretends to be asleep before everyone else just so they would all tickle her.
Was that just me?
Most likely I was just too darn busy eating all the leftover mini-Reese's from my New Year's Party to bother waddling over to my computer desk and typing out a few words.
Also? That "2 thousand and 10" v "twenty ten" controversy? Has me very depressed. I want to say "twenty ten"; I know that by next year everyone will be saying "twenty eleven"; and certainly a decade from now no one would be foolish enough to recite "two thousand and twenty" when a simple "20-20" would do.
But I find myself babbling "2 thousand and 10," just like everyone else around me. At least, when my mouth isn't full of chocolatey peanut butter goodness, that's what I'm saying. The rest of the time I'm saying, "Mmmph mwafnd m-m."
A lemming, that's what I am. A year-naming lemming. I make me sick.
You know what? It feels good to be back. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?
And I don't even have a good excuse. None. Oh, maybe I was trying to garner a little attention, trying to see how many readers would bother to stop by to see how I was doing (answer: not a lot). Or maybe I was like the 9-year-old girl at the slumber party who pretends to be asleep before everyone else just so they would all tickle her.
Was that just me?
Most likely I was just too darn busy eating all the leftover mini-Reese's from my New Year's Party to bother waddling over to my computer desk and typing out a few words.
Also? That "2 thousand and 10" v "twenty ten" controversy? Has me very depressed. I want to say "twenty ten"; I know that by next year everyone will be saying "twenty eleven"; and certainly a decade from now no one would be foolish enough to recite "two thousand and twenty" when a simple "20-20" would do.
But I find myself babbling "2 thousand and 10," just like everyone else around me. At least, when my mouth isn't full of chocolatey peanut butter goodness, that's what I'm saying. The rest of the time I'm saying, "Mmmph mwafnd m-m."
A lemming, that's what I am. A year-naming lemming. I make me sick.
*****************
You know what? It feels good to be back. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Success!
Last year I resolved not to set up myself up for failure by making resolutions I could not meet. Let us review, then, whether this plan worked or not:
In other words, last year's resolutions turned out to be a resounding success. Tune in tomorrow to see how far I can lower the bar with the 2010 version of "Fail Safe - Resolutions You Can Keep."
Maintain my current (over)weight
No problem! With a bonus 5 pounds, for a safety cushion (ahem)...
Studiously ignore my children at least 2 hours every day
Done!
Make sure to have a minimum of 10 knitting projects started at all times, with fully half of them not findable at any given moment. Finish projects only when absolutely necessary.
Whoops - I only managed to have 3 or 4 on the needles at one time. But some of them have been started since 2008, so I claim success on this one also. Also, I took advantage of every opportunity to order items from Knitpicks. Bonus points.
Take thousands more pictures, but only edit a minimal number (say, when a small child asks, "What does Grandma look like again?")
What can I say? I'm prescient.
Breathe loudly near my teen daughter. She likes that.
I continued to annoy Anna this year, without even trying. I know - amazing.
Refuse to number lists properly. If Blogger wants me to count to 4 and then start over again, who am I to argue?
Goes without saying...
Oversleep
Observed religiously
Waste time blogging
I'm still here, am I not?
In other words, last year's resolutions turned out to be a resounding success. Tune in tomorrow to see how far I can lower the bar with the 2010 version of "Fail Safe - Resolutions You Can Keep."
***************
In the meantime, y'all can discuss in the comments whether I am justified in teaching a fellow Starbuck's laptop tapper about that miracle of courtesy known as earbuds. Or maybe I should just have him killed...
I'm trying to work here, people. Really.
I'm trying to work here, people. Really.
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