This week was all about lessons for me... not just teaching them, but learning them.
Ok, first of all being called "gangsta" by an 8th grader is actually considered to be a compliment. Not necessarily in my circle of 30-something friends, but...
Also being confused for one of the high school girls that you coach is supposed to be flattering and it's probably not necessary to produce your driver's license to prove that you are indeed the age you claim.
When the gas light goes on in your car, you should make it priority (even when you "know this car") to get to a gas station. Good rule of thumb -- gas + car = go. No gas + car = stalling out on Garden State Parkway (well, almost stalling out).
People are lacking in manners. Case and point - when someone text messages you - "hello. how are you?" -- general codes of decency dictate that you respond.
To that point of manners and decency, falling asleep while making out with someone and then never calling them back ever again tends to haunt you. Even when that someone kisses like a fish and is just generally a little creepy. New rule of thumb -- snoring + kissing + deleting voicemails without listening to them = stalker. Avoid forcing yourself to kiss someone you have no intention of ever seeing again.
Yes, those collagen lip-infusion glosses really do work. After trying a sample at Sephora, I walked out of the store with a slight tingle in my lips. Walking out of the mall 20 minutes later, lips on fire, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window and swore I was looking at Steven Tyler. The swelling went down eventually -- two hours later.
A caffeine addiction can be just as destructive as any other kind of addiction. I realized that I am blowing $10-$15 a WEEK buying coffee-to-go! Lattes, macchiatos, cappuccinos... my physical and mental need to be jacked up on caffeine is wreaking havoc on my finances. Think investing in coffee maker at home will allow me to re-allocate my funds elsewhere - like happy hour on Fridays!
Lastly, I learned (or finally accepted) this week that I'm a pretty cool chic. I'm smart, I'm fun, I'm humorous, I'm easy on the eyes, I can watch football and drink beer on a Sunday. And I know I sound like Stewart Smalley ("i'm good enough, i'm smart enough, and gosh darn it - people like me!"), but seriously... if others are incapable (because they are commitment-phobes, self-absorbed or just general idiots) of seeing these fabulous qualities, then screw 'em.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
Sunday Shopping
Please please please --- remind to never ever EVER going food shopping on a Sunday ever EVER again. Never mind the fact that my local A&P never seems to have enough carts and I inevitably end up perusing around with this teeny, tiny basket loaded to the brim with my Super Crunchy Skippy peanut butter, 10 frozen Lean Cuisines (they were on sale), toilet paper, and cheese (can't digest, but i loves it!). The factor that seems to have the most profound effect on me is not sad homeless man standing out side with an empty box pretending to sell candy, but rather... the endless parade of adoring couples who also feel so inclined to get their weekly shopping down at the exact same moment as me. Seriously? Has Sunday taken over as the new "date night"? Is dinner and movie out and a the deli counter and dairy aisle in? And it isn't even as simple as just couples... it's the couples who have obviously made no concerted effort to discuss an appropriate supermarket attack strategy so as to expedite their trip and really just end up clogging the aisles as they intensely discuss whether or not to get the sugar free or fat free pudding... if trans-fat is really just a gimmick...is one serving really is 100 calories. Oh lordy. It is just goes on and on and on... the enormous amount of label dissection and carbohydrate debate that goes on between these seemingly otherwise intelligent individuals...once they pair up in a retail environment, all hell breaks loose! And I end up suffering!!
But the worst - the absolute worst - is not the discerning consumer couple. The worst of the worst is the PDA couple. ??? What are you doing? In what perverse universe is making out next to the lettuce heads ever appropriate? What in God's name makes the paper products aisle so seductive that these horned-up couples deem in necessary to nibble on each other's ear lobes? I kid you not when I say this past Sunday I wheeled (wrestled a cart from a little old woman) past TWO couples who got caught in the moment...understandably so. I find the International Foods section to have a certain appeal as well. And I also often find it amusing to fog up the windows in the freezer section... I usually ended writing my name in the condensation. They chose ass-cheek prints. And the best was, as I was gawking at this man who had pinned his lady-love against the ice cream freezer, he shot me look as if I was invading their privacy. I laughed audibly as I grabbed my Phish Food - are ya kidding me? Dry-humping next to Ben and Jerry's is hilarious!
Anyway, since Sundays are now off limits for food shopping, maybe now I will have to dedicate at least one hour of my Saturdays, formerly reserved for drinking and shopping (not necessarily in that order), to this necessary event. Although I will no longer feel as though I am being secretly videotaped for some ridiculous VH1 reality show, I might find a cart without having to assault anyone and get through the produce section without witnessing soft-core porn...
But the worst - the absolute worst - is not the discerning consumer couple. The worst of the worst is the PDA couple. ??? What are you doing? In what perverse universe is making out next to the lettuce heads ever appropriate? What in God's name makes the paper products aisle so seductive that these horned-up couples deem in necessary to nibble on each other's ear lobes? I kid you not when I say this past Sunday I wheeled (wrestled a cart from a little old woman) past TWO couples who got caught in the moment...understandably so. I find the International Foods section to have a certain appeal as well. And I also often find it amusing to fog up the windows in the freezer section... I usually ended writing my name in the condensation. They chose ass-cheek prints. And the best was, as I was gawking at this man who had pinned his lady-love against the ice cream freezer, he shot me look as if I was invading their privacy. I laughed audibly as I grabbed my Phish Food - are ya kidding me? Dry-humping next to Ben and Jerry's is hilarious!
Anyway, since Sundays are now off limits for food shopping, maybe now I will have to dedicate at least one hour of my Saturdays, formerly reserved for drinking and shopping (not necessarily in that order), to this necessary event. Although I will no longer feel as though I am being secretly videotaped for some ridiculous VH1 reality show, I might find a cart without having to assault anyone and get through the produce section without witnessing soft-core porn...
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Kiddie Table
I've got kids coming out my ears these days. This city is filled to the brim with mommies and their double-strollers (no judgement)... I've got 100 kids a day I am responsible for amusing and enlightening (oh yea, and educating)... There are tots running around in my apartment building, using the elevator as a source of entertainment (that's real cute)... Don't get me wrong. I love the kids. I used to be one for a very long time. I hope to have some of my own one day (although that's a whole other topic - i only want boys. girls freak me out.). It's just that I'm not in any rush - biologically or mentally - to be popping them out just yet. Hell, it's exhausting just taking care of ME everyday... I couldn't imagine having to be responsible for every minute detail of another human being's life! Although, I imagine, when the time is right, I will feel differently (although my mommy friends all say that insecurity never goes away -- great. something to look forward to.). Acquiring the other (male) person to help me create this fledgling life at some point is a whole other subject that I'm in no mood to get into...
Anyway, so I was at a family party this weekend. My mostly Italian side of the family. Need I say more? My grandmother's 80th birthday - quite the event. A nice sit-down Italian meal at a fancy-schmancy restaurant with 60 loud, talkative, ADD Italian family members... there was truly no need for traditional live entertainment. We are in and of ourselves the entertainment. So, when I arrived with my brother (who is 27 - and the age factor for us both will be important in a moment), we were bombarded with family we have see in a awhile. Aunts, uncles and cousins from a far... everyone wanting a big kiss on the cheek, a hug, a five-hour conversation about what we've been doing with our lives... My first order of business was ordering a drink from the waitress, even before finding my assigned seat - I needed to be able to function properly in the family setting and alcohol always seems to help with that. My brother and I found our place cards and I thought to myself, how lovely it finally is to be an adult at a family party - to sit amongst adults, converse with adults. Even my brother, at his age, was surely to be acknowledged for his maturity and growth - both physical and chronological. So when we found our table - table 2 - and discovered that we were easily by fifteen years the oldest members of our table, it hit me -- we are STILL sitting at the kiddie table. OMG (as my middle school students would say. or text.) - we are still being regarded as "kids". Luck for us it was NOT the usual wobbly card table thrown on the end of the Big People's table, complete with a plastic table clothe and paper products instead of dishes (i think that was last Thanksgiving). Needless to say, I was highly insulted. My brother shrugged his shoulders and sat down - he's not overly concerned with such matters (aka he is not as dramatic as i). But I, however, felt slighted, overlooked. So, with martini in hand, I marched over to my aunt (the organizer) and promptly explained that there must have been some mistake, I was sitting at the kiddie table with cousins just learning the alphabet, and I was certain there was a spot somewhere else for me. I also let her know that apologies were unnecessary, that I am sure it was just an oversight and that I would be happy to squeeze in -- anywhere else. Well, there was no mistake, my aunt told me. I had been relegated to the kiddie table because, what she didn't say, I am still a kiddie as far as they are concerned. I have decided that the perception is after a certain reasonable age (ie, 30!), at least in my family, if you don't have a significant other, haven't produced a brood of screaming brats (i mean adorable children) or aren't turning 80 yourself -- you will ALWAYS be at the kiddie table. So, thankfully, the open bar provided me with many tolerable hours at the kiddie table. I was drunkenly amused when the 10 year old next to me decided to create a concoction of sodas and tried to slurp her purplish mixture through her nose. My martinis also assisted me in being able to participate in the table tag that had me "it" most of the time. I was even surprisingly accepting when the 8 year old decided she had had enough of her pasta and spit out whatever remained in her mouth back onto her plate. I don't know that I can really say that I was a role model at the kiddie table, practically injecting vodka (and then wine cause i felt like i needed to shake things up a bit) and telling them to "shut-up and stop screaming so loud". I think I may have even frightened one of the kids, when I spilled a glass of wine and cursed quite profusely whilst throwing my napkin over the mess and trying to grab the waitress' attention all at the same time (i'm sure it wasn't my finest family moment).
All in all, being at the kiddie table wasn't a completely humiliating experience but I learned that I can be a trooper in any situation - as long as I have access to copious amounts of alcohol. Families are tough and family gatherings only serve to put our dysfunctional, neurotic, absurd intricacies out on the table for all to see. At this family gathering, I played the role of the slightly drunk 30 year old at the kiddie table and it was fun. I can't wait til Christmas - spiked eggnog always has a particular affect on me... Yet, I will say this. If having babies or getting married is my ticket out of the kiddie table realm, maybe I have to rethink my position on those things.
Anyway, so I was at a family party this weekend. My mostly Italian side of the family. Need I say more? My grandmother's 80th birthday - quite the event. A nice sit-down Italian meal at a fancy-schmancy restaurant with 60 loud, talkative, ADD Italian family members... there was truly no need for traditional live entertainment. We are in and of ourselves the entertainment. So, when I arrived with my brother (who is 27 - and the age factor for us both will be important in a moment), we were bombarded with family we have see in a awhile. Aunts, uncles and cousins from a far... everyone wanting a big kiss on the cheek, a hug, a five-hour conversation about what we've been doing with our lives... My first order of business was ordering a drink from the waitress, even before finding my assigned seat - I needed to be able to function properly in the family setting and alcohol always seems to help with that. My brother and I found our place cards and I thought to myself, how lovely it finally is to be an adult at a family party - to sit amongst adults, converse with adults. Even my brother, at his age, was surely to be acknowledged for his maturity and growth - both physical and chronological. So when we found our table - table 2 - and discovered that we were easily by fifteen years the oldest members of our table, it hit me -- we are STILL sitting at the kiddie table. OMG (as my middle school students would say. or text.) - we are still being regarded as "kids". Luck for us it was NOT the usual wobbly card table thrown on the end of the Big People's table, complete with a plastic table clothe and paper products instead of dishes (i think that was last Thanksgiving). Needless to say, I was highly insulted. My brother shrugged his shoulders and sat down - he's not overly concerned with such matters (aka he is not as dramatic as i). But I, however, felt slighted, overlooked. So, with martini in hand, I marched over to my aunt (the organizer) and promptly explained that there must have been some mistake, I was sitting at the kiddie table with cousins just learning the alphabet, and I was certain there was a spot somewhere else for me. I also let her know that apologies were unnecessary, that I am sure it was just an oversight and that I would be happy to squeeze in -- anywhere else. Well, there was no mistake, my aunt told me. I had been relegated to the kiddie table because, what she didn't say, I am still a kiddie as far as they are concerned. I have decided that the perception is after a certain reasonable age (ie, 30!), at least in my family, if you don't have a significant other, haven't produced a brood of screaming brats (i mean adorable children) or aren't turning 80 yourself -- you will ALWAYS be at the kiddie table. So, thankfully, the open bar provided me with many tolerable hours at the kiddie table. I was drunkenly amused when the 10 year old next to me decided to create a concoction of sodas and tried to slurp her purplish mixture through her nose. My martinis also assisted me in being able to participate in the table tag that had me "it" most of the time. I was even surprisingly accepting when the 8 year old decided she had had enough of her pasta and spit out whatever remained in her mouth back onto her plate. I don't know that I can really say that I was a role model at the kiddie table, practically injecting vodka (and then wine cause i felt like i needed to shake things up a bit) and telling them to "shut-up and stop screaming so loud". I think I may have even frightened one of the kids, when I spilled a glass of wine and cursed quite profusely whilst throwing my napkin over the mess and trying to grab the waitress' attention all at the same time (i'm sure it wasn't my finest family moment).
All in all, being at the kiddie table wasn't a completely humiliating experience but I learned that I can be a trooper in any situation - as long as I have access to copious amounts of alcohol. Families are tough and family gatherings only serve to put our dysfunctional, neurotic, absurd intricacies out on the table for all to see. At this family gathering, I played the role of the slightly drunk 30 year old at the kiddie table and it was fun. I can't wait til Christmas - spiked eggnog always has a particular affect on me... Yet, I will say this. If having babies or getting married is my ticket out of the kiddie table realm, maybe I have to rethink my position on those things.
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