I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas! It really does not feel like it. I have been pretty devoid of Christmas spirit this year…scroogetastic. I guess that’s mostly because being in a warmer climate, I have been in denial that it is in fact winter and Christmas time. I mean, San Diego has definitely decked its halls with plenty of fuh-la-la, but it just never sank in for me. Plus, I’ve been stressed out.
So yes yes, instead of going back to Beantown for Christmas, my family is coming to visit me in San Diego! They arrive around 7:30 PM west coast time on Christmas day. I am just as pleased as holiday spiked punch that they are making the trip out. I really wasn’t looking forward to having another family-free Christmas like last year.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, celebrating Christmas in Prague last year was definitely beyond fantastic and an entirely unforgettable experience (nothing says holiday cheer like a Christmas Eve ghost tour regaling tales of a gentile-slaying, claymation golem), but ya just gotta be with your family on Christmas…it’s a Yule rule.
So yeah, 3 more days! Can’t even wait!
P.S.
Here is my preemptive new year’s resolution: achieve electrolightenment and become a practitioner of verbal eloquence, not diarrhea.
Just told the cashier at Food 4 Less that he’s probably schizophrenic.
Of course, out of context that sounds a lot more abrasive than it actually was. He laughed (albeit awkwardly) after I said it!
But still, I shouldn’t be handing out DSM diagnoses in jest to strangers. Especially around the holidays.
No one likes a stocking full of bipolar disorder or a gift card to OCD.
http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/twas-the-night-monologue/866361/
…Why John Malkovich is amazing.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Long post...
This past week was uberly un-fun.
I spent it darting all over town jumping through a series of irritating pre-hire hoops for the navy job. All of which were the very same pre-hire hoops that I had previously jumped through for the first job that the navy hired me for, which they then snatched away when I no longer maintained my status as a student. Mind you, all of the other persons hired for said job were undergraduate students…but that’s another can of worms for another time.
As frustrating as it’s been though, there is no point in gnashing my teeth about it. Because when the navy says, “Jump!”, the only acceptable response is, “How high, Navy?” then bend over.
I will gnash my teeth about this, however. On Tuesday, after I rode a bus for an hour and a half to get to the navy’s HR office just to put my John Hancock on two lousy pieces of paper, I was informed that it is likely that my pay is going to be docked by $2.50.
$13.70 - $2.50 = salary castration.
And let’s not forget about the 3 hour round-trip commute to the child development center where I am supposed to be working. That is definitely the lip stick on this fantastic job offer.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
I won’t actually be able to start this navy job until January 15th, however. So for the meantime, I posted an ad on Craig’s List marketing my babysitting/tutoring services.
Last Friday, I received a response from a very progressive, libertarian mom named Anna, who has two foster children - a girl and a boy, ages 3 and 8 months.
I met the kids on Sunday and then spent a couple more afternoons sitting for them during the week while Anna ran errands and got housework done. All in all, the kids are both very cute and reasonably well-behaved.
On Thirsty Thursday, Anna wanted me for an evening babysitting gig, which would necessitate me spending the night at her house. The reason being that while she said she most likely wouldn’t stay out past midnight, she wouldn’t feel comfortable with me taking the bus home at that late hour should something happen to me.
Now, I wouldn’t say that I was exactly keen on the idea of spending the night at a relative stranger’s house, but I was reasonably cool with it. That was, however, until Anna revealed that she was not reasonably cool with the idea of compensating me for the inconvenience of the overnight.
But of course, I know I’m being overly avaricious here. It’s totally acceptable to stiff the babysitter. Probably shouldn’t tip waitresses either.
I didn’t want to leave her in the lurch though, so I reluctantly agreed to do the freebie overnight. But for the future, I said if she wasn’t willing to shell out the dough, then I wasn’t willing to do any more late night sitting.
So la la la, the evening hours passed without a hitch. Played some games, watched The Jungle Book, then I tucked the kids soundly into bed.
Oh side note: as she’s running out the door, Anna informs me that the little girl was going to be sharing a bed with me. Umm…
Today’s soup is cream of questionable sleeping arrangements.
I spent it darting all over town jumping through a series of irritating pre-hire hoops for the navy job. All of which were the very same pre-hire hoops that I had previously jumped through for the first job that the navy hired me for, which they then snatched away when I no longer maintained my status as a student. Mind you, all of the other persons hired for said job were undergraduate students…but that’s another can of worms for another time.
As frustrating as it’s been though, there is no point in gnashing my teeth about it. Because when the navy says, “Jump!”, the only acceptable response is, “How high, Navy?” then bend over.
I will gnash my teeth about this, however. On Tuesday, after I rode a bus for an hour and a half to get to the navy’s HR office just to put my John Hancock on two lousy pieces of paper, I was informed that it is likely that my pay is going to be docked by $2.50.
$13.70 - $2.50 = salary castration.
And let’s not forget about the 3 hour round-trip commute to the child development center where I am supposed to be working. That is definitely the lip stick on this fantastic job offer.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
I won’t actually be able to start this navy job until January 15th, however. So for the meantime, I posted an ad on Craig’s List marketing my babysitting/tutoring services.
Last Friday, I received a response from a very progressive, libertarian mom named Anna, who has two foster children - a girl and a boy, ages 3 and 8 months.
I met the kids on Sunday and then spent a couple more afternoons sitting for them during the week while Anna ran errands and got housework done. All in all, the kids are both very cute and reasonably well-behaved.
On Thirsty Thursday, Anna wanted me for an evening babysitting gig, which would necessitate me spending the night at her house. The reason being that while she said she most likely wouldn’t stay out past midnight, she wouldn’t feel comfortable with me taking the bus home at that late hour should something happen to me.
Now, I wouldn’t say that I was exactly keen on the idea of spending the night at a relative stranger’s house, but I was reasonably cool with it. That was, however, until Anna revealed that she was not reasonably cool with the idea of compensating me for the inconvenience of the overnight.
But of course, I know I’m being overly avaricious here. It’s totally acceptable to stiff the babysitter. Probably shouldn’t tip waitresses either.
I didn’t want to leave her in the lurch though, so I reluctantly agreed to do the freebie overnight. But for the future, I said if she wasn’t willing to shell out the dough, then I wasn’t willing to do any more late night sitting.
So la la la, the evening hours passed without a hitch. Played some games, watched The Jungle Book, then I tucked the kids soundly into bed.
Oh side note: as she’s running out the door, Anna informs me that the little girl was going to be sharing a bed with me. Umm…
Today’s soup is cream of questionable sleeping arrangements.
So yeah...
The evening hours slowly turned into wee morning hours and there was still no sign of Mom-of-the-year. Fantastic.
I love being kept up all night by the hourly cries of a hungry baby and the copious “I want my mommy now!” outbursts of a three year old and not being paid for it.
It wasn’t until 5 frick-on-a-stick AM that Anna finally returned home and I got to go to bed.
Twenty minutes later, however, just as I was dozing off, I was awoken by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
Then, the front door opened and I could hear the voices of two men, growing in volume as they approached the door to the room where I was sleeping.
Then, the voices hushed and I heard the door creak open as a shadowy figure entered the room and made like he was going to get into bed with me.
“Ummmm…The babysitter is sleeping in here!” I hollered at him.
“Ohh…uhhh…sorry! My bad.” stammered the shadowy figure as he hastily retreated from the room.
Under normal circumstances, I probably would have freaked out a lot more about this, but when I first met Anna, she explained to me that she has a lot of twenty-something male friends, many of whom are recovering drug addicts and aspiring rap artists, who frequently crash in her spare bedroom. And who doesn’t love a slumber party with a VIP guest list like that?
But yeah, after this babysitting adventure, I don’t think I’ll be doing any more over-night shifts for Miss Anna Banana. I’d like to steer myself clear of any future, accidental spooning sessions with recovering druggernauts.
Ok. Enough tomfoolery. Here’s a good bit of news for ya…
Stacey just started seeing this loveable hostel manager named Iain! It’s all still very new, the relationship like just popped out of the womb, but I can just tell that it’s going to be lovely. Seeing them together is like watching a Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan movie, chock-full of that A-list, adorable, movie magic chemistry.
And he is just so sweet to her. Chew on this sucrose-coated, chocolate-dipped example…
Text from Iain to Stacey after their first official date: You are kick ass. You make me a happy man.
How cute is that? I am officially J to the EALOUS.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Golden Globe Noms!
The Golden Globe noms are out! It’s officially awards season, baby!
Now, I am not a sports fan by any means. Well, except for hockey. Gotta say that I do enjoy me the elegant brutality of big, burly men gliding gracefully with Kwan-like poise one minute, and then smashing their opponents’ faces into glass walls the next, oh yeah.
But, to make a sports related comparison illustrating my zeal for film awards, the Golden Globes are my World Series and the Academy Awards are my Super Bowl.
I am pathetically out of shape for this year’s awards season, however. I haven’t been to the movies in a dog‘s age! (Seeing Four Christmases over Thanksgiving totally does not count since the experience was more like staring at a pile of garbage for an hour and a half than watching an actual movie.)
My top 6 list of must-see movies for the '08/'09 season are…
1. Revolutionary Road
2. Burn After Reading
3. Happy-Go-Lucky
4. The Reader
5. In Bruges
And…
6. Slumdog Millionaire
Last year, I had to miss both the Globes and the Oscars while I was teaching in France due to a television deficiency, which was a major bummer. So this year, my cup runneth over with excitement about the awards shows!
Especially since my Leo scored another best actor nomination. This time it’s for his role as Frank Wheeler in Revolutionary Road. Can't say that I've seen the film yet (it doesn't come out until December 26th), but I have a feeling in my bones that ‘09 is going to be Leo’s year. Cross those phalanges, people, and cross ‘em good!
Leo would have had a really good shot at nabbing himself a pair of book ends last year for The Departed and Blood Diamond if it hadn’t have been for Forrest Whitaker’s freakishly amazing performance in The Last King of Scotland. Damn you, Mr. Whitaker. Damn you.
If you haven’t yet seen The Last King of Scotland, I implore you to immediately report to the nearest Blockbuster and rent it. Forrest’s portrayal of Idi Amin is absolutely, terrifyingly ferocious, but in the daaamn, give this guy major props kinda way. Plus, James McAvoy, who has the dreamiest bedroom eyes on the planet, is in it.
Luckily, however, Mr. Whitaker will be spending this year’s award season on the bench. Plus, Heath Ledger’s Joker nom is in the best supporting actor category, so both his and Leo’s talents can be justly awarded.
Go team DiCaprio!
Now, I am not a sports fan by any means. Well, except for hockey. Gotta say that I do enjoy me the elegant brutality of big, burly men gliding gracefully with Kwan-like poise one minute, and then smashing their opponents’ faces into glass walls the next, oh yeah.
But, to make a sports related comparison illustrating my zeal for film awards, the Golden Globes are my World Series and the Academy Awards are my Super Bowl.
I am pathetically out of shape for this year’s awards season, however. I haven’t been to the movies in a dog‘s age! (Seeing Four Christmases over Thanksgiving totally does not count since the experience was more like staring at a pile of garbage for an hour and a half than watching an actual movie.)
My top 6 list of must-see movies for the '08/'09 season are…
1. Revolutionary Road
2. Burn After Reading
3. Happy-Go-Lucky
4. The Reader
5. In Bruges
And…
6. Slumdog Millionaire
Last year, I had to miss both the Globes and the Oscars while I was teaching in France due to a television deficiency, which was a major bummer. So this year, my cup runneth over with excitement about the awards shows!
Especially since my Leo scored another best actor nomination. This time it’s for his role as Frank Wheeler in Revolutionary Road. Can't say that I've seen the film yet (it doesn't come out until December 26th), but I have a feeling in my bones that ‘09 is going to be Leo’s year. Cross those phalanges, people, and cross ‘em good!
Leo would have had a really good shot at nabbing himself a pair of book ends last year for The Departed and Blood Diamond if it hadn’t have been for Forrest Whitaker’s freakishly amazing performance in The Last King of Scotland. Damn you, Mr. Whitaker. Damn you.
If you haven’t yet seen The Last King of Scotland, I implore you to immediately report to the nearest Blockbuster and rent it. Forrest’s portrayal of Idi Amin is absolutely, terrifyingly ferocious, but in the daaamn, give this guy major props kinda way. Plus, James McAvoy, who has the dreamiest bedroom eyes on the planet, is in it.
Luckily, however, Mr. Whitaker will be spending this year’s award season on the bench. Plus, Heath Ledger’s Joker nom is in the best supporting actor category, so both his and Leo’s talents can be justly awarded.
Go team DiCaprio!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Swing Night at Henry's
Henry’s is by far our favorite bar in San Diego and it is speedily becoming our Cheer’s. Well, sort of. It’s more of a work in progress, like the Familia Sagrada in Barcelona.
Last week, we exchanged pleasantries with Justin, the bartender, so there is some potential there. And one of the bouncers has clearly noticed us, as he has remarked several times now that we sure do come to Henry’s an awful lot.
I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that he just thinks we have a drinking problem. So he only half counts.
But hey, slow and steady can still win the make-nice-with-the-bar-staff race so you can get discount cocktails and all-you-can-eat maraschino cherries!
One of the coolest thing about Henry’s is that it does theme nights. Wednesday is rhythm and blues, Thursday is 80’s, Friday and Saturday are hip-hop, Sunday is karaoke, Monday is mixmasters, and Tuesday (my favorite) is swing night.
Swing night features a live, rock-a-billy band called The Stillettos, who are amazingly T-Birdish. And all of the bar's T.V. screens show clips of people from the 50’s doing the Lindy Hop, the Charleston, the Shag, and the Balboa (trying to become well-versed in swing lingo, or as I like to call it - swingo - so that I can impress all of my new, wannabee swing friends).
The crowd of dancers that swing night draws is seemingly rather elitist. They dress to the nines in 50’s attire and all sit and chit-chat together between sets on the far side of the dance floor, while all the non-dancing cubes and clydes congregate near the bar like the lepers of middle school dances.
Stacey and I, however, have made it our mission to penetrate the inner swing circle. We actually made a little bit of headway with our goal this past Tuesday.
A fancy-footed, college professor named Mark took a liking to us and he showed us some of the swinging ropes.
He was a little too into the turns, however. After awhile, I almost had to say to him, “Ok Marky Mark, you keep spinning me like a maniacal dreidel and I am going to vomit on your saddle shoes.”
Then along came a herd of delightful Marine boys - all the size of redwoods, all sporting buzz cuts - so typical.
They were very sweet, but they had absolutely no skills and zero rhythm. But I gotta give them all A pluses for their afforts. Even though as they were attempting to spin Stacey and myself, we undoubtedly looked like nightmarish, dislodged ferris wheels.
My guy was so adorable though...like a really meaty, lost puppy. After we haphazardly bopped and jiggled around on the dance floor for awhile, he goes, “Ok, I’m gonna flip you around now!”
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
It was amazing. Totally razzed my berries (yep, I’m a cool cat - I googled 50’s jargon. What about it?). Not gonna lie though, I definitely donkey kicked several innocent bystanders in the back. But hey, go big or go home…or to the hospital to tend to your possibly ruptured kidneys. Whoops.
Can’t wait for next Tuesday!
Last week, we exchanged pleasantries with Justin, the bartender, so there is some potential there. And one of the bouncers has clearly noticed us, as he has remarked several times now that we sure do come to Henry’s an awful lot.
I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that he just thinks we have a drinking problem. So he only half counts.
But hey, slow and steady can still win the make-nice-with-the-bar-staff race so you can get discount cocktails and all-you-can-eat maraschino cherries!
One of the coolest thing about Henry’s is that it does theme nights. Wednesday is rhythm and blues, Thursday is 80’s, Friday and Saturday are hip-hop, Sunday is karaoke, Monday is mixmasters, and Tuesday (my favorite) is swing night.
Swing night features a live, rock-a-billy band called The Stillettos, who are amazingly T-Birdish. And all of the bar's T.V. screens show clips of people from the 50’s doing the Lindy Hop, the Charleston, the Shag, and the Balboa (trying to become well-versed in swing lingo, or as I like to call it - swingo - so that I can impress all of my new, wannabee swing friends).
The crowd of dancers that swing night draws is seemingly rather elitist. They dress to the nines in 50’s attire and all sit and chit-chat together between sets on the far side of the dance floor, while all the non-dancing cubes and clydes congregate near the bar like the lepers of middle school dances.
Stacey and I, however, have made it our mission to penetrate the inner swing circle. We actually made a little bit of headway with our goal this past Tuesday.
A fancy-footed, college professor named Mark took a liking to us and he showed us some of the swinging ropes.
He was a little too into the turns, however. After awhile, I almost had to say to him, “Ok Marky Mark, you keep spinning me like a maniacal dreidel and I am going to vomit on your saddle shoes.”
Then along came a herd of delightful Marine boys - all the size of redwoods, all sporting buzz cuts - so typical.
They were very sweet, but they had absolutely no skills and zero rhythm. But I gotta give them all A pluses for their afforts. Even though as they were attempting to spin Stacey and myself, we undoubtedly looked like nightmarish, dislodged ferris wheels.
My guy was so adorable though...like a really meaty, lost puppy. After we haphazardly bopped and jiggled around on the dance floor for awhile, he goes, “Ok, I’m gonna flip you around now!”
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
It was amazing. Totally razzed my berries (yep, I’m a cool cat - I googled 50’s jargon. What about it?). Not gonna lie though, I definitely donkey kicked several innocent bystanders in the back. But hey, go big or go home…or to the hospital to tend to your possibly ruptured kidneys. Whoops.
Can’t wait for next Tuesday!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Mantyhose...
Attention ladies!
Having trouble coming up with holiday gift ideas for the men folk in your lives??
Well, look no further. I have the perfect solution that is guaranteed to rock the world of any manly man-ladies' man-man about town-gentleMAN, man.
Just click on the link below and experience all of the magic of what the future of men's lib holds...
e-MANcipate!
p.s. if you stumble across the comments made by user names fanofMantyHose4ever and 1jungdaddylikeahorse - that's me and Stacey. We always make productive use our of our free-time.
Having trouble coming up with holiday gift ideas for the men folk in your lives??
Well, look no further. I have the perfect solution that is guaranteed to rock the world of any manly man-ladies' man-man about town-gentleMAN, man.
Just click on the link below and experience all of the magic of what the future of men's lib holds...
e-MANcipate!
p.s. if you stumble across the comments made by user names fanofMantyHose4ever and 1jungdaddylikeahorse - that's me and Stacey. We always make productive use our of our free-time.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The squeaky wheel gets the grease!
I finally got a real job! After three long months of job hunting, I finally scored one!
Well, I’m almost sure I have a real job.
See, no one actually said to me in so many words, “You’re hired.”
But the program director sent me an email Monday morning saying, and I quote: “Looking forward to you coming on board.”
That has to mean I got the job, right??? It would be a big ol' bowl of caprese crap salad if it didn’t!
At any rate, I plan on keeping my glass half full…of happy juice, jam-packed with vitamin YouGotTheJob.
So! The nitty-gritty…
The job is an educational aide position with the Navy. The duties are basically that of a preschool teacher, which I am thrilled about - I’ll get to play with Navy babies all day long!
I can’t even express just how relieved I feel. My bank account is on the brink of hitting rock bottom and my parents really aren’t in any position to be my financial crutch right now. So thank you, THANK YOU to the Navy.
Plus, even though the job is with the Navy, I will be working at the Air Station in Miramar. Which is where only the most quintessentially flighty rebel movie of 1986 takes place featuring a cast with more snappy nicknames than any other film throughout film history.
Of course, I can only be talking about one film, and one film alone. And that film would be…TOP GUN.
(Maverick
Goose
Iceman
Jester
Cougar
Wolfman
Slider
Merlin
Hollywood
Stinger
And last and kind of least, Kelly McGillis as Charlotte a.k.a. Charlie)
Let’s bring back that loving feeling, baby!
Well, I’m almost sure I have a real job.
See, no one actually said to me in so many words, “You’re hired.”
But the program director sent me an email Monday morning saying, and I quote: “Looking forward to you coming on board.”
That has to mean I got the job, right??? It would be a big ol' bowl of caprese crap salad if it didn’t!
At any rate, I plan on keeping my glass half full…of happy juice, jam-packed with vitamin YouGotTheJob.
So! The nitty-gritty…
The job is an educational aide position with the Navy. The duties are basically that of a preschool teacher, which I am thrilled about - I’ll get to play with Navy babies all day long!
I can’t even express just how relieved I feel. My bank account is on the brink of hitting rock bottom and my parents really aren’t in any position to be my financial crutch right now. So thank you, THANK YOU to the Navy.
Plus, even though the job is with the Navy, I will be working at the Air Station in Miramar. Which is where only the most quintessentially flighty rebel movie of 1986 takes place featuring a cast with more snappy nicknames than any other film throughout film history.
Of course, I can only be talking about one film, and one film alone. And that film would be…TOP GUN.
(Maverick
Goose
Iceman
Jester
Cougar
Wolfman
Slider
Merlin
Hollywood
Stinger
And last and kind of least, Kelly McGillis as Charlotte a.k.a. Charlie)
Let’s bring back that loving feeling, baby!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Stripical Behavior
So Stacey and I are admittedly very white chicks. And true to the stereotype about our fellow lack-of-pigmenters, we can not dance for squat.
BUT! We ain’t no quitters. Instead of rolling over and settling for the one acceptable white person dance that God gave us (you know, the Carlton side-step, snap n‘ twist), we decided to oh-so wisely invest our precious mula in Carmen Electra’s Advanced Striptease DVD, oh yeah.
Obviously, during the first run through, we looked like a pair of baby giraffes learning to walk for the first time. But after…ohh...the twenty-third, twenty-fourth viewing, we had that suckah nailed, like the bona fide sex pistols that we clearly are.
So much so, in fact, that we decided that Ms. Electra could no longer hold a candle to our expert stripnotizing moves. So we shut that amateur shiznit off, grabbed some props, and took our routine to the next level.
Like any good, little, rising strip star, we looked to la crème de la crème for inspiration…aka Britney Spears, pre-nose dive into the deep end of the crazy pool - we must have watched the I’m a Slave for You video at least 43,857,437 times.
Totally worth it.
At the end of the day, we had choreographed our own full-length, professional quality, naughty librarian strip tease, chock-full of saucitude.
Time well spent, oh yeah.
BUT! We ain’t no quitters. Instead of rolling over and settling for the one acceptable white person dance that God gave us (you know, the Carlton side-step, snap n‘ twist), we decided to oh-so wisely invest our precious mula in Carmen Electra’s Advanced Striptease DVD, oh yeah.
Obviously, during the first run through, we looked like a pair of baby giraffes learning to walk for the first time. But after…ohh...the twenty-third, twenty-fourth viewing, we had that suckah nailed, like the bona fide sex pistols that we clearly are.
So much so, in fact, that we decided that Ms. Electra could no longer hold a candle to our expert stripnotizing moves. So we shut that amateur shiznit off, grabbed some props, and took our routine to the next level.
Like any good, little, rising strip star, we looked to la crème de la crème for inspiration…aka Britney Spears, pre-nose dive into the deep end of the crazy pool - we must have watched the I’m a Slave for You video at least 43,857,437 times.
Totally worth it.
At the end of the day, we had choreographed our own full-length, professional quality, naughty librarian strip tease, chock-full of saucitude.
Time well spent, oh yeah.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Thanksgiving Back East
I had the pleasure of going back east for a few days last week to spend some quality time with friends, family, and my monster puppy. I even got to see the dirty Jerz, Italian fam-clan, who never fail to put on a good show.
My grandma Lucy has always been a bit…uhh…how shall I say…mmm…eccentric.
She was in rare form this visit, however. But ya gotta admit, her ridiculous antics do make for some top-notch grandma theater.
It is a well established fact that my grandma carries the heavyweight champion of the world title when it comes to Debbie Downering.
Using her prowess for pessimism, my grandma could morph a pile of rainbows and teddy bears schmeared with baby laughter paste into a suicidal heap of arthritis, crumbling economies, and tumors.
Pretty much every story that she told concluded with one of the following three endings:
1. And then he died (classic grandma).
2. And then she grew a tumor.
Or my favorite…
3. And then he was trampled to death (this one was a new addition to the repertoire of gloom).
Grandma is always the life of parties.
Oh, I also made the mistake of mentioning to her that I had been sort of dating someone in San Diego.
Normally, I am a strict minimalist when it comes to all forms of relationshippy conversations with family members because awkwardness and discomfiture are always soon to follow.
But, an uncomfortable pause transpired in the conversation, somewhere after either John Smith was trampled or Jane Doe grew a tumor, when I had absolutely no idea how to respond, and quite frankly, couldn’t handle another ultra depressing story.
So yeah, in a fraught attempt to change the subject, I told grandma about the sailor boy, Marc, that I had been dating. I told her that he worked as an engineer on a battleship and that he did a lot of traveling with his job.
Without skipping a beat, grandma’s response to this information was, “He’s probably got a different girl in every port, you know…pass the lasagna.”
Good talk, grandma. I wish only the best for you too.
Moving on…
All in all, my trip back east was delightful. Although, also somewhat strange.
The first night I spent back in Walpole, I had the Garden State realization that the house that I grew up in wasn’t really my home anymore. It was just like in the pool scene when Andrew says to Sam…
“It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist…and you won’t ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself.”
Weird. Realizing this, made me feel sad - and kind of hollow. But at the same time, I recognized just how much I do like being on my own out in California - I’m so happy to be back.
Oh and p.s. I decided that I do indeed like that sailor boy. Probably not the best idea, however, considering he’s gone now, back to Maine until sometime in January…
Dum ti dum ti dum.
My grandma Lucy has always been a bit…uhh…how shall I say…mmm…eccentric.
She was in rare form this visit, however. But ya gotta admit, her ridiculous antics do make for some top-notch grandma theater.
It is a well established fact that my grandma carries the heavyweight champion of the world title when it comes to Debbie Downering.
Using her prowess for pessimism, my grandma could morph a pile of rainbows and teddy bears schmeared with baby laughter paste into a suicidal heap of arthritis, crumbling economies, and tumors.
Pretty much every story that she told concluded with one of the following three endings:
1. And then he died (classic grandma).
2. And then she grew a tumor.
Or my favorite…
3. And then he was trampled to death (this one was a new addition to the repertoire of gloom).
Grandma is always the life of parties.
Oh, I also made the mistake of mentioning to her that I had been sort of dating someone in San Diego.
Normally, I am a strict minimalist when it comes to all forms of relationshippy conversations with family members because awkwardness and discomfiture are always soon to follow.
But, an uncomfortable pause transpired in the conversation, somewhere after either John Smith was trampled or Jane Doe grew a tumor, when I had absolutely no idea how to respond, and quite frankly, couldn’t handle another ultra depressing story.
So yeah, in a fraught attempt to change the subject, I told grandma about the sailor boy, Marc, that I had been dating. I told her that he worked as an engineer on a battleship and that he did a lot of traveling with his job.
Without skipping a beat, grandma’s response to this information was, “He’s probably got a different girl in every port, you know…pass the lasagna.”
Good talk, grandma. I wish only the best for you too.
Moving on…
All in all, my trip back east was delightful. Although, also somewhat strange.
The first night I spent back in Walpole, I had the Garden State realization that the house that I grew up in wasn’t really my home anymore. It was just like in the pool scene when Andrew says to Sam…
“It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist…and you won’t ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself.”
Weird. Realizing this, made me feel sad - and kind of hollow. But at the same time, I recognized just how much I do like being on my own out in California - I’m so happy to be back.
Oh and p.s. I decided that I do indeed like that sailor boy. Probably not the best idea, however, considering he’s gone now, back to Maine until sometime in January…
Dum ti dum ti dum.
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