Old Friends

I originally posted the following on February 4, 2011. I'm re-posting it today because I learned through Facebook last night that Devin (my prom date below) just passed away. He was one of a kind and everyone who knew him loved him. The world is a little less colorful now.
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You know how you look back through old school photos and remember a time of innocence? A time of all-American wholesomeness?

Yeah, my parents don't either.

Recently, I was looking through pictures taken of milestone events in my young life -- you know, ring dance, graduation, and that very special night that holds so much promise, requires so much planning and is the subject of all too many teen romcoms -- the night you use your fake ID for the first time at the Jewish Mother when you're on a date and order a carafe of red wine and then complain to the waiter because it is (and I quote) "warm."

Actually, I'm talking about prom.

Back in high school, I was such a wannabe thrift-store-clothes-wearing, punk rock-loving, weird-guy dating chick. Instead, I was the irregular-Levi's-wearing, new wave-loving, normal-guy dating chick.

Fortunately, I was friends with some of the people I wanted to be like, so I figured I would prove just how "punk" I was by inviting one of these friends to the Bayside prom as my date. (Fun fact: I really did go to Bayside High School. Just like those mischievous imps on Saved by the Bell.)

This, gentle readers, is my prom photo from that night:

I guess this was just a rebellious phase. I'm not really sure what I was rebelling against, but that was kind of beside the point. I was a rebel! And I proved it by attending a school-sanctioned dance wearing the same Gunne Sax Jessica McClintock dress that no fewer than four other girls in my class were wearing.

Talk about sticking it to the man.

My parents did not really understand, and my mother suggested that one day I would regret this choice.

And guess what? She was totally wrong. It may have been a little unorthodox, but at least I had a completely memorable prom experience that is still fun to reflect upon. As a matter of fact, during the discussion in a book club I was in several years ago, our chat turned to first loves due to a theme in the book we were reading. A woman in the group was talking about how she had dated the same guy all through high school and how they had gone to prom and how it was such a quintessential high school romance.

And to that, I got to reply: "Really? Because I went to prom with a bisexual Robert Smith lookalike."

So all these years later, I don't regret a thing. Except perhaps looking my prom date up on Facebook recently:

(And only because he looks wwwwaaaayyyyy better than I do.)

Lip syncing for my life,

Brutalism

Famous Men I've Touched

Thursday, I did my first-ever speaking engagement at the Vale School House in Oakton, Virginia, and I loved every.single.second. and did not want it to end. During the evening, I shared this reading of one of my favorite posts:

(NOTE: I did omit mention of the "euphemisms for masturbation" category during my reading. And I think that was the right choice. Although for the record, I'm sure the category would have been included in the double jeopardy round and that "What is Shaking hands with Abraham Lincoln?" would have been the answer to a daily double.)

People laughed in all the right places, with the exception of after the line about "cities I've thrown up in". (Vomit haters.) And then, during the Q&A portion of the evening, someone inquired, "Who are the famous men you've touched?" And I drew a  complete blank. Seriously? Was my misspent youth so crazy that I cannot even remember all of the famous men with whom I've had skin-to-skin contact?

That night, I went home and compiled the names of these men, so I'll be ready the next time someone asks. (My humorist career should skyrocket after killing with the SRO crowd at the school house, so I'm guessing that the next person who asks me this will likely be Anderson Cooper. And if so, I'll make sure he is added to the list.)

Listed in order of importance, based on what each has contributed to humanity from greatest contributions to most minimal contributions, I give you...the list of famous men I've touched:

Joe E. Tata ("Nat" from the Peach Pit on Beverly Hills 90210)
Jeff Cockey
Jeffrey Ross
Todd Glass
Tom Selleck
Joe Mantegna
Jerry Mathers (who really likes my beaver shot, BTW)
Joe Frazier
Buzz Aldrin
Jimmy Carter  (Sure, Jimmy Carter won the Nobel Peace Prize...but did he teach Dylan McKay responsibility?)

I'll never wash my hands again,
Brutalism

Getting Lucky

(This will so not be the post you expected based on that title -- apologies.)

It's like that old joke about what you get when you play a country song backwards...you get your wife back, you get your job back, you get your dog back...

Just 24 hours ago, I submitted this week's Oakton Patch column -- a column based on the theme of what a big, fat loser I am of late. (Yes, OF LATE. Shut up, everyone who knows me.) And between the time I submitted it and the time it ran this morning, I found out that my iPhone was turned it at Penn Station and my good friends John and Meredith are currently working on retrieving it and shipping it to me, and I also found out that a wonderful neighbor had two tickets to the White House Easter egg roll that she offered up. (I have not stopped smiling today.)

However, I also discovered that my daughter is #58 on the wait list for the magnet school -- so not all has moved on from Schleprockism.

Just mostly.

Off to buy a lottery ticket,
Brutalism

I Should Sue

On Saturday, while watching The Hunger Games in the theater, I was so startled by the appearance of the muttations that I tensed enough to strain a muscle in my calf.

I wish I was kidding.

Which was awesome timing as I was running the Cherry Blossom 10-miler on Sunday. I've avoided this race for a few years, as the last time I ran it, I ended up requiring knee surgery. (Though, to be fair, I ran it three weeks after running a half marathon at a pretty good pace.) And grimacing and curling up in a fetal position while crossing the finish line.

In order to prevent any injuries from happening again, I did a lot of preparation and training this time around. And by that, I mean I did approximately three training runs over the past few months.

I'm an idiot.

But guess what? I finished it. While I did not complete it in great time, I did complete it in a non-humiliating time. And I got to be there while my friend, Amanda, PR'd by THIRTEEN MINUTES.

Even better? When I get a massage tonight, I can blame the tight calves on the run and not on The Hunger Games.

I'm a finely tuned athlete,
Brutalism

If I can ever make a segue about a Segway, my life will be complete

Recently, I used the most horrible verbal transition of my life. During a business call, I discovered that the owner of one of our customer companies had died. I was very empathetic with the Office Manager who was conveying the news to me and told her how sorry we were to hear that and that I could call back as this was obviously not a good time to discuss promotions. She then said, "No, now is okay." So I said solemnly, "Again, I'm really sorry." And since I didn't know where to go from there, I followed it one nanosecond later with a cheery, "Now, let's talk marketing!!!"

As I have a lot to catch you up on, this post will be in blurbs, introduced by the most awkward or disjointed segues I can think of in honor of what a total rube I am.

1) Canetto's mom had surgery yesterday. She was vague about details, letting us know only that it involved her "lady parts." And, trust me, we did not want to probe further.

SEGUE: Speaking of probing my mother-in-law's private parts...

2) I spent last weekend in Manhattan with Canetto and Avery. Highlights included: my cousin's wedding on Long Island, Mary Poppins on Broadway, walking the length of High Line park, taking the ferry to Staten Island, going to the American Girl doll store, bowling with Canetto's friend from high school, and randomly meeting up with a friend I've known since we were seven and discovered we were staying a few blocks from each other in NYC thanks to Facebook. I love social media. So much, it's almost like a disease.

SEGUE: Speaking of social diseases...

3) While coming back to Manhattan on the Long Island Railroad, I left my iPhone on the train when disembarking at the terminal.

SEGUE: Speaking of getting off at Penn Station...

4) I have been invited by a local charitable organization to be a featured speaker at an upcoming event. This alternately thrills me and terrifies me. It is one thing to hide behind the computer to write about unsavory topics...it is another thing entirely to stand in front of a group who is paying to be there listen to you talk about poop and swinging.

SEGUE: Speaking of last Saturday...

5) The owner of a local kids' clothing boutique in Oakton asked me recently if Avery would be interested in modeling Easter dresses. My child, while a fashionista, is completely shy. So I didn't think she'd go for it. But once she realized that she could try on any clothing she wanted and feel like a princess in a fairy tale, she conceded.

SEGUE: Speaking of happy endings... 

I'm out,

SEGUE: That's what he said

Brutalism

Happy Endings

In an uncharacteristically sappy (read: beer-fueled) moment tonight, I turned to Canetto and said, "You know, I appreciate what a great Dad you are. The fact that you are so involved with our daughter will mean more than anything both to her and to the person she becomes..."

To which he replied: "Thanks. Now can you go read to her so I can surf some porn?"

McDeathbreath

Right now, I'm walking around the house like I'm 80 thanks to the 8 miles I ran this morning with my friend, Amanda. Because I'm a mental patient, I don't like her to tell me the pace at which we're running, as I tend to slow myself down if I know I'm going fast, even if I feel okay. Then, it's like a big, fun, reveal at the end when she can disclose just how fast we ran. (Well, "fast" being relative. She kindly goes much slower than she could when running with me.) 

This is all part of my training regimen for the Cherry Blossom 10-miler on April 1st: an intense regimen that has included very little running and drinking several Guinness stouts and smoking a cigar (?) last night. (All very Irish, as it was a MACanudo.)

It really is shocking I'm not a professional athlete. (Then again, John Daly is, and he shares a similar training regimen.)

If there's anything I'm as good at as training, it is parenting. My friend, Jeannine, posted this to my Facebook wall this morning saying it reminded her of me. And frankly, I cannot disagree:

Yup. Pretty much captures my parenting philosophy.



Hope you all had great St. Patty's Days and celebrated accordingly. I swear I'm not a crazy cat lady posed my cat for a photo in honor of the holiday:

This is my big, fat, hunk o' love, Seamus. God, I love this cat.
And his tremendous belly.

I'm off for more Aleve. And more mouthwash...

Brutalism



Cannot Outrun My Past

Conversation with the Dilettantes during our Falconry class today (post to come on Dilettante Club site):

Me: "You know. I just could not like that instructor, because he reminded me of a guy named Smelly Dave that I used to date."

Amy (incredulously): "You dated someone called Smelly Dave?"

Me (apologetically): "It was during a low point in my life."

Amanda (helpfully): "Is this the same guy that ate french fries out of the trash can?"

Me (also apologetically): "No. That was Rob. And come to think of it, I dated him during a high point in my life..."

Thanks to Canetto for saving me from myself,
Brutalism

Ham

For the record, I was never a nose-picker or scab eater, although I was (am?) pretty prolific in my pants-wetting.

Which is interesting, really, as I was a painfully shy kid. (And when I say, "painfully", I mean ridiculously, paralyzingly so.) As such, I was terrified to ask teachers, instructors and other grown ups if I could use the bathroom when I needed to, which led to many, many public urination episodes.  (And yes, it has not escaped me how I somehow found wetting my pants in front of my peers less embarrassing than asking a grown up to use the restroom.)

I'm not that bright.

Then again, I'm sure lots of people from grade school remember me because of it -- it was my signature move. Read about other signature moves in this week's Patch column (the one that is accompanied by a photo of a ham).

In other news, a conversation with a co-worker/friend this morning went as follows:

Her (breathlessly): "I was so late this morning, because every single thing that could have gone wrong this morning...did!"

Me: "Oh my God! Like what?"

Her: "Well, my hair dryer broke, so it took forever to dry my hair. And I meant to paint my nails last night but ran out of time, so I had to do that this morning. And I had to use my tooth whiteners..."

Me: "Well those invisible children in Uganda have nothing on  you."

If there's anything worse than a pants-wetter, it is an unsympathetic one,
Brutalism

Too Good Not To Share

A friend of mine works for a government contractor and therefore, has a number of government customers -- one of whom has not paid its bill in several months. The hilarious part? (Really, what's not hilarious about someone not paying their bills?) The customer is the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.

When I shared this fact with my good friend, Dilettante07, she totally gave me a Tosh.0 "20 Seconds on the Clock" list of comments in response. To wit:

• Maybe they ran out of toner?
• Do they know your friend's company accepts cash?
• Maybe they want to pay with those bags of shredded money, and it's just taking a while?
• Perhaps they don't realize they actually have a license to print money?
• No wonder there's a budget deficit...we literally do not know how to make money

This has just made me think that I want to work at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing...as I could then say, honestly, "I make millions of dollars at my job."

Rolling in the dough,
Brutalism

Stye-mied

This past weekend, I had a bit of a meltdown because I'm feeling overwhelmed. (And because I had a stye the size of a watermelon in my eye.)

You totally want me.

My husband was very understanding because he was recently juggling getting all of our financial information together to refinance our house, scheduling life insurance physicals, researching, test-driving and negotiating for a new car, and doing our taxes.

I'm overwhelmed because of a Peeps diorama and a trapeze class:

One of the nine thousand ridiculous things that is consuming my time lately. But this was so fun.
Read all about it here.

It's not the events that overwhelm me...it is the lack of time to sit, do nothing and recharge. Even though I love doing things and being around people, I also love being by myself and not having to be anywhere. (Particularly when I look like the Elephant Man thanks to my stye-the-size-of-North-America). 

Whatever. When I don't have things to do, I get bored in about an hour. So even though I complain, I like having commitments. Like writing a weekly column and then shilling it for all I am worth: (Last week's was about how we roll around naked in piles of money here in Fairfax County, Virginia. This week's? A Lent vent.)

Maybe I should re-think that stance on Lent and give up whining for a while?

Nonsense In All Forms Of Communication

A reader of my Oakton Patch column contacted me this week to see if I spoke to groups.

Of course I responded "yes" then immediately contacted social media goddess/presenter extraordinaire (and my friend), Stacey, to ask her advice. (Because my offer to speak at a small gathering at a garden club is totally on par with her speaking engagement in Poland for a billion dollar restaurant company in Central Europe that hired her to speak to all of their managers.)

Whatever. She did give me some really good advice, including:

• find out what the agenda is....what is the goal of the conference or meeting where you are speaking (ed., swinging, generally)
• find out the basic demographics of the group....first rule of comedy is knowing your audience (ed., swingers, mostly. Oh, and your mom.)
• record all speaking engagements both so I can improve and also for marketing purposes (ed., no one wants to see that)

and finally, her most sage bit of wisdom:

• do not poop in your pants during the Q&As (ed., no problem, that is generally a pre-show move for me)

Anyway, I am now apparently going to pursue speaking opportunities. Please check out the new tab on this site -- the one titled, "Is This Thing On?" -- that announces this fact.

Dude.

Recommend this Column

I totally stole the title of today's column from Abbie Hoffman. Then again, he promoted people stealing things from him, so I guess it's okay.

(Yes, Abbie Hoffman. My cultural references are very contemporary. Try to keep up.)

Off to burn my bra,
Brutalism

Totally Brutal

Sweet Jesus. Was January the longest month in history? I suppose not drinking will make it seem that way, particularly when the month includes a night out at an Irish bar with friends, my company's holiday party, the most stressful month at work in a loooong time, my birthday and some major challenges for close friends. (Also, what do the Dilettantes really have in common besides a love of the drink?)

It was also a long month because I was not eating sugar, processed food, dairy, or wheat. (Which, frankly, is why you have not heard from me here. I was barely conscious and not at all lucid.)

Which explains why I forgot to share my last few columns with you. Please to enjoy the one where I make lots of thinly-veiled sexual jokes, the one where I mock incorrect word usage (even though I use words incorrectly all the time and my punctuation would make my high school English teacher weep), and today's column about losing weight in a weight-loss challenge. (It was for charity. Do I get a medal?)

I'm going to keep not drinking until April. Because I want to lose all my friends. And I have forgotten my mantra that "nothing funny comes out of moderate drinking." (Even less funny with teetotalling.)

By the way, after our weigh-in last night, the other Dilettantes headed out to Dogfish Head Brewery for celebratory beers and food. I could not go because I had to head home and finish my column. But I didn't miss much, because THEY TEXTED ME PICTURES OF EVERY SINGLE BEER AND DELICIOUS FOOD ITEM THEY ORDERED AND CONSUMED while I ate a Larabar in front of the computer. Beeyoches.
Brutalism

Isn't It Ironic?

Last night I received notification of a $50 fine I had to pay for going through a red light. (I saw the camera light flash when this happened, but was hoping it was for the person in back of me.) Oy.

The delicious irony? This happened as I was driving away from the Fairfax County Courthouse after serving on jury duty, an experience you can read about here. (It was kind of a high profile case here in Fairfax because it involved a former Redskin.)

Perhaps I have another resolution to add my list.

So, I'm breaking laws and breaking resolutions, but at least I haven't lost any weight yet on my DietBet challenge.

I'm eating really well, not drinking alcohol and the weight is not budging. I obviously need to step up the exercise. I've asked the hilariously funny and motivational Shut Up and Run to provide me some Biggest Loser-esque advice/motivation from afar (she is in Colorado). Bring it, SUAR!

Hoping to be a three-time loser,
Brutalism

My 2012 Resolution - More Gambling!

You read that right. I'm kicking off 2012 by making a bet with myself, The Dilettantes and several other bloggers invited to participate in this challenge. DietBet is offering winners (those who lose at least 4% of their body weight in four weeks) the chance to split a $5000 pot between themselves and the charity they've selected . (In our case, DC Central Kitchen.)

Intrigued? So were we, when we heard about DietBet - a web site that lets you bet your friends (with real money, as studies prove that people lose weight faster when competing against others) to achieve your weight loss goals. For competitive people like us, this is a great way to kick off our New Year's resolutions.

The press release announcing the contest was issued today -- a release that mentions I was in the Guinness book of world records for tap dancing and identifies me as a Mommy Blogger.

(No wonder my parents have always been prouder of my Attorney sister...)

Follow my journey (and ultimate success, of course) here on Brutalism. I'll also post before, during and after photos as soon as I get past the trauma of the number I saw on the scale this evening.

Spreading the Cheer

In addition to Brutalism, it seems that I am writing everywhere else these days. (What a tramp.)

On the Oakton Patch this week, I write about why Santa hates the poor.

At Dilettante Club, I write about our last two adventures: Power stilts and constructing a holiday-themed Peeps diorama (we did Festivus). You can vote for us to win here. (Not to name drop, but I'm totally name-dropping -- Dale McGowan at Parenting Beyond Belief voted for our diorama. And surprisingly, not the nativity scene...)

Hope everyone has had a great holiday -- based on the fact that I have turned into a tub of goo, I'd say I've enjoyed myself a lot.

Happy 2012!

All I want for Christmas is...AAAAHhhhh! Not that!

I've been methodically unsubscribing myself from gazillions of e-mail lists this holiday season after receiving a mailbox-clogging amount of offers and specials from every retailer on the planet.

And even though Groupon inundates me, I cannot bring myself to unsubscribe from that site, because I love a good deal.

Especially good deals on completely random products and services. To wit:

And, again, as the naturally inquisitive type  that I am, I have some questions:

1) Colonics? Wasn't this a "thing" for about six minutes in 2001? They still do this?

2) This was promoted as a "holiday deal" and they suggested you could not only buy one for yourself, but several others as gifts. ("Merry Christmas, Honey -- this holiday season you are so full of love and joy -- not to mention a metric ton of digested food -- so I figured this gift would be perfect...")

3) Skateboarding Cheeseburgers? How good is the stuff they're smoking at New Creation Therapy?

4) Does everyone else agree that the folks at New Creation Therapy may be enjoying their colon-flushing job a little too much? This is text from their site: The therapeutic center recommends eating a normal meal three–four hours before the treatment and using the time in between to become fluent in a new language.

5) It is things like this that make me want to actively work on my drug addiction.

Happy Holidays and best wishes for a squeaky clean colon,
Brutalism

UPDATE: Seriously, what the hell is a skateboarding cheeseburger? I figured a quick search of Urban Dictionary would answer that and it did not. (Yet it did lead me to several thousand entries under "skateboarding" -- most of which are angry rants against people who don't get skateboarding. I grew up in a beach town where skateboarding was mandatory...are there really places that give kids a hard time for doing it?)

TIs the Season to be a Complete Narcissist - fa la la la la la look at me!

If you think this is obnoxious....please note that this is not even actual size.

Forget keeping Christ in Christmas -- I'm campaigning to keep the Christmas letter in Christmas.

And now, apparently, wall mural sized pictures of my family, to boot. Read about it here:

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Ahhh...the magic of the holidays. A time for dinner dates with Herman Cain, sartorial rants and plenty of elf martinis.

And that's just the first party of the season...

With apologies to Counting Crows, it appears that it will be a long December...