exceedingly depressed? seek doogie howser, m.d.
March 31, 2008
i was going to write some ultra depressing blog post about how if you cut open my skull and looked into my brain today, you probably would have seen something that resembled the weather; a giant raincloud. super uplifting days FTW!
however, i instead realize now that two things happened today that made me laugh exceedingly hard, so therefore my post takes on a sense of optimism.
what are these two things?
(a) at the end of tonight’s how i met your mother episode, barney stinson — played by a one neil patrick harris — has just been with a woman. he blogs about it. but what i heard when he opens his computer is that familiar doogie howser, m.d., theme song and my tv is filled with old school blue computer typing (where i can see the big rectangular cursor). to finish his entry for the day, he writes… “but i learned something about myself today (pause, smile in realization and chuckle to himself for dramatic effect) … i am awesome.” i was peeing. perfection.
(b) i coined the phrase “curly collars aren’t baller.” this is the perfect phrase for all the dudes out there who spend at least $30 on a collared, short-sleeve shirt but can’t invest in an iron to keep their collars in check. so what could be a yuppie pol shirt suddenly looks like how a piece of american cheese looks when it melts on a hambuger. aka greasy, warped, and delicious unnatural. love it.
call me cupid
March 26, 2008
i’m like that chick on the millionaire matchmaker. if only i was running my life as a business, i’d be driving a bmw. damn.
so far, at least four of my ex-boyfriends have married the first woman they dated after me. i argue a fifth, but it’s hazy whether or not he had a chick in between. point is, i’ve managed to be asked, “where are we headed?” several times, and each time i’ve responded, “uh, not to the alter.”
i’m like dane cook in good luck chuck, except not a tramp or a seemingly average comedian (except for his kool aid skit, which cracks me up). i’m just not interested in marriage. it hasn’t always been this way. i’m open to the idea, i suppose — in theory, anyway — but it just overall terrifies me. the one time i did try exploring it, i realized sooner rather than later that i had been failing to ask myself questions like, “hey boner, is this what you really want?”
it wasn’t. i bailed.
i’ve only met one other person who shares my affinity for just *being* together because we *like* being together and don’t *need* to be categorizing ourselves and moving along some pre-determined social path to tax breaks and giving up all our individual hopes and dreams because it’s what supposed to be more important. this is how i see marriage for me, now. this is another reason i shouldn’t be married.
it’s not this way for everyone, thankfully. just me. so no, it’s not surprising that people i’ve dated marry their next partners. i get it.
on the drive back to va yesterday, my mom said she envied me because i had my whole life to buy houses and get settled, but i didn’t have my whole life to adventure and explore. it’s cool (maybe sad a little) knowing my mom wants to live vicariously through me. but overall it just further reinforces that following my gut is where i need to be right now.
plus after i’m done living in the south of france and trying out several different lives, i’ll be able to pick up all the thirty-something divorcees. hot!
so, anyway, i found out today that an ex is now engaged — rightfully so — and have formulated the following theories based on what obviously is an undeniable pattern of me setting up dudes and watching another woman knock them down (but they want it, so, it’s cool):
i am not marriage material. ha! whatevs. i’m awesome. but this does hold some water considering i don’t want to be married. go figure.
the dude wants to “win” me. he has a goal, he wants to get it. his mom is pressuring him. i don’t help him (or her, by extension) achieve that goal. he leaves to pursue the goal elsewhere and quickly realizes most other women actually want to be married with babies. game over.
i’m weird. i don’t care about jewelry. or fancy dinners. i don’t like seeing men cry (aka the “sensitive” man is not my style). i like sports. i drink beer. i build furniture. i laugh at my farts. i like driving fast (wait, some women like this). i enjoy sloppy joe. immensely. i take great joy in sleeping; equally great joy in pooping. i talk about it. this throws men off. they panic that they’re actually dating a dude. except with boobs. and not a dude.
in the end, i’m ok with this pattern. i have to be. to break it would only mean one of two things: (a) i’ve found someone i can’t live without, so all the sacrifices and social paths i talk about suddenly because absolutely moot, or (b) i date younger men not so in a hurry to find their wives, therefore we can terminate our relationship and allow enough time for him to date at least two women before settling.
is there another option i’m missing?
forced social situations = no one wins
March 19, 2008
why do professional environments force social situations? everyone must feel uncomfortable during a mandatory birthday celebration at some awkward office. i’ve been there. it’s excruciating. if people in an office environment aren’t really friends, per se, and you as an administrator decide what will raise morale will be to jam everyone in a room at a specified time, make them eat cake and maybe — just maybe — even sing (omg please), then you are just asking for everyone to quit.
once i was at a holiday dinner. the best part of this was that they brought ONE bottle of champagne to share among about 20 people. one year another of the directors brought a SECOND bottle of champagne. i drank a lot. it made the event bearable because i suddenly didn’t care that i was there.
but anyway, back to this particular holiday dinner. i was sitting in the middle of the long table. next to me and across from me were a couple friends of mine. we were huddled together in the middle, separating what was two hilarious conversations happening amid the 40- and 50- somethings around us. to the left, discussion was centering on recipes. particularly how to make fondant cake icing. everyone was completely interested in the woman speaking. she might as well have been the president of the united states the way people hung on her every word.
to my right was a conversation about taxes. i’m not kidding. people were avoiding the political conversation underlying the discussion and talking instead about how taxes have changed over time.
i was astounded. is this what i dreamed of growing up? i wanted to be an architect. i wanted to be a marine biologist. i wanted to be a choreographer, a singer, a broadway star, a famous writer …
i definitely don’t want to be here.
lucky enough, while i’m still trying to define myself, at least my life doesn’t involved forced awkward social situations. because i actually like everyone around me, i take great joy in getting together with them for meetings and paintball and whatever else they dream up for teambuilding activities. oh, we do birthdays, but they happen for everyone at once at the same staff meeting the first of each friday. and we get ice cream cake. and we laugh. and we don’t talk about taxes.
why badly drawn boy’s once around the block is ultra rad
March 15, 2008
the music of badly drawn boy’s song once around the block is ultra sexy. i imagine that my body is all cartoon like where my hips and shoulders move in smooth harmony but opposite directions from one another, like a slithery snake. yes, like that.
don’t judge me.
the point is, i can’t listen to this song without feeling like i should be wearing a fedora and some pinstripe zoot suit with black patent stilletto boots, then when the beat drops the camera jumps to me in my room in manhattan, with the rain pooling down the window that’s aglow behind me thanks to the classic red neon sign attached to the side of my building, and i’m unzipping my boots and smiling, like i just had the greatest night of my life tooling around the city with someone who brings me to life but who i can’t allow myself to fall in love with.
take a left, a sharp left and another left. meet me on the corner. we’ll start again.
then i watched the actual video the band put together. it’s a completely different interpretation of the notes and lyrics. hilarious and innocently romantic, albeit uncomfortable in its pubescent poignancy.
amazing that what makes me want to move like a snake makes another person remember braces.
