Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death

I'm just a girl

Tuesday, March 18, 2008
But I don’t WANNA look like a soccer mom

Ever since the new neighbors moved in downstairs, condom wrappers have littered the cul-de-sac in front of the crib. I’m kinda thinking to myself, “Uh, I know car sex is fun and all, but when you’re doing it in front of the crib you just moved into, doesn’t it sort of lose its appeal? I mean, just sayin’.”

So I’ve been crabbin’ to everyone who’ll listen, as well as to those who’d rather not, about my hair and how much I’d really like to shave it off my head, except that I can’t because the wedding’s next week, and though baldness would certainly be not inappropriate, it’s kinda not the look I was hoping for. The look I have now, however, is equally distasteful: Ben has had me growing it out since September, and now it’s jaw-length in back and just past my chin in front, and up until about a week ago, it was working out. Couldn’t get it as smooth as he or his gorgeous Bride-to-Be can, but I could at least get it close.

Now? It’s too heavy, and what used to take 10 minutes tops to dry now takes 20-30 and won’t blow completely straight. But instead of curls, I get what I like to call “the bends” (pretty self-explanatory), and the only way I can make it not look super-dumb is by tucking it behind my ears. Bottom line: I look like Marilyn Quayle with honey-colored bangs that have roots. How you like me NAO!??


Posted by Broad6:48 PM
Monday, March 17, 2008
When people are cute enough that you don’t have to shoot them

After a good two or three months of minutes upon minutes of searching, driving the committee batshit with options and finally reaching out to the Innerbunny for guidance, I finally purchased my dress for the Wedding of the Year Saturday.

And it wasn’t anything on the list.

I know: We all decided that No. 1 of my last three choices was the one, and I agree wholeheartedly. However, that dress is much too gorgeous to tastefully cover with a shrug or wrap, and I gotta be honest, Homie ain’t ready to bear her arms in something sleeveless yet. My final choice, on the other hand, will look equally good with or without a shrug. My final choice was also $110 cheaper, and for someone who doesn’t have to dress up often, it makes much more sense, and then I can spend my hard-earned dough on more worthwhile pursuits, like yesterday’s $60 Target purchase comprised mostly of pedicure tools. (Nooooooo, my feet are NOT that gross; they’re not gross at all considering how rarely I wear socks. I’m a girl, and it was Target, and everyone knows that girls cannot go into Target without getting distracted by all the products and gewgaws of Target. Simple genetics, really.) Speaking of which, next up on the decision-making for Operation Look Hot: the right shade of nude/buff nail polish that will be visible yet not make sallow yellow me look like a corpse for said pedicure. You think the dress business was a pain in the ass? We’ve got two weeks, people!

So I didn’t end up having company this weekend, which was ultimately good because I have a metric shit-ton of laundry that keeps mocking me while I zip out hither and yon, and nobody outside my inner sanctum needs to see a metric shit-ton of laundry piled outside my bathroom. (My inner sanctum probably doesn’t either, but they know and love me, so it’s cool, at least in my mind.) But can I just tell you that people in their 20s crack me up? Caught up with a pal a few weeks ago when I was working on a story, and he said he wanted to get together this weekend. Plans weren’t set in stone or anything, but it seemed like a good possibility, and one that I was looking forward to since he’s truly one of the most genuinely nice people I know and certainly the most happy-go-lucky, and God knows I desperately need some happy-go-lucky energy after the last few weeks—no, months if you count the nightmare with Mother. Anyway, whilst sitting through possibly the most boring assignment EVER (good CHRIST it was bad) I shot him a text to firm up plans and whatnot, but I didn’t hear anything. Later that night, I logged into Facebook.

Now, for those who aren’t on Facebook, it takes users to a “home” page when they log in that tells what their friends are up to in terms of who’s friended who and whatever apps they’re using and stuff. Most people go straight to their profiles; I usually get sidetracked by words—it’s a habit, one so ingrained that TOG used to hand me reading material wherever we were because I would just find it and start reading anyway—so as I’m reading I notice he has plans for the High Holiday. I click on it, and it’s an out-of-town pub crawl celebration starting Saturday and ending Sunday.

[I’m going to sidebar here for a moment to reveal the one pet peeve I have that will do serious collateral damage to, if not downright destroy, any relationship of mine: Making plans that fall through without a legitimate reason or breaking plans without at least two days’ notice—especially more than once, mmmmmmmaybe twice if I’m feeling charitable. Been seriously burned one too many times to just let that roll.]

That said, he and I weren’t set in stone, so it didn’t bother me. Besides, I had other things to do (like laundry, which I didn’t, but other cool things).

Friday, I’m wrapping up my story for the day and getting ready to head out the door to drink on the company’s dime when he texts me back telling me he’s out of town.

Visiting his grandparents.

(blinks) Um.

My first thought was, “(snerk) Uh, Baby? Do you not know how Facebook works?” but then I thought nah, why be an ass when it’s so darn cute that he evidently thought I’d be pissed at him for doing what 20-somethings do. Or maybe he was going to the pub crawl as an incidental to visiting his grandparents. I don’t know, whatever. I just thought it was funny in a precious kind of way.


Posted by Broad5:01 AM
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
File under “Sad, but true”
I think we’re going to have to put you on a work restriction about how much time you’re allowed to spend on the computer like they do for people who get busted for DUI: You can use it for work, but that’s IT.


-- Girlie, laughing at my latest examples of social retardation
Posted by Broad6:56 PM
Monday, March 10, 2008
‘A-game!??’ The hell!??

Word of advice to your mothers: If y’all ever get the hankering to send someone a racy text message, I am NOT the person to ask help in crafting it. Also, I’m really wondering exactly when it was that I turned into such a huge dork.*


Posted by Broad2:47 PM
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Have I mentioned how much I hate dress shopping?

As of yesterday, I thought I had shopping for the wedding of the year pretty well under control and had picked out a dress that passed muster with the committee:

image

But then, like a dumbass, I decided to look at Macy’s again for the eleventy frillionth time and found this:

image
(Why yes, you ARE detecting a distinct pattern in my taste)

and this:

image

which I love the pattern but makes me worry that I would look like I’m wearing a tent.

Have I really been out of the corporate world so long that I can’t remember how to pick out anything that isn’t yoga pants and v-neck tees? 


Posted by Broad5:24 PM
Monday, February 25, 2008
The world, it remains a personal affront to me

However, allow me to point over there on my sidebar, where it says ”Pussy Ranch“ and has for, like, forEVER. That there means I’ve been reading Oscar ingenue Diablo Cody for at LEAST four years now, so don’t y’all be jumping on the bandwagon and saying you’re all huge fans. Because I was THERE, man, before y’all were.

Now that we’re talking about movies, here’s my dilemma for tomorrow: I’ve been invited to a movie world premiere and afterparty in a cool locale with good friends, and it’s been on Girlie’s and my social calendar for weeks, right? Did a story on it (of which I really liked the way it turned out) and everything. So Saturday I’m doing some work (read: screwing around on the Innerbunny), and I get an e-mail from one of my excellently reliable sources in a town I normally cover but haven’t since the latest election because the new councilmen are insane and there’s only so much insanity I’m willing to take when it comes to covering municipalities. In it, my source provides the context of the next meeting, and it’s the kind of story I LIVE for, with corruption and major players that are doing something really really WRONG. I fire off an e-mail to my one editor (who’s LEAVING and as such is one of the reasons I’m a sad panda right now) letting her know I SO want to cover this meeting.

Aaaaaaaand ... you know where this is going.

So, my choices are work and do a story that will really stick it to some deserving, corrupt dumbasses, or go to a cool movie premiere and drink expensive beer with friends who appreciate me. This is not as easy a decision as it seems.


Posted by Broad4:11 AM
Sunday, February 24, 2008
My peeps’ green beans are a gift from God

And I totally have the recipe to make them Serbian stylee, too, so I should, because GoshDAMN they’re good. Y’all can have your mac n’ cheese as comfort food; give me them green beans and some sausage and kraut (or even better, stuffed cabbage), and I’m good to go. Of course, all I want right this very minute is a phospho cocktail, because I ate entirely too much today and kind of feel like I need to purge*, especially after preliminary dress shopping with Girlie earlier this afternoon. God, it’s already as big a suckfest as I imagined.


Posted by Broad3:33 AM
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Boys can turn anything into a nerd experience

Interesting discussion over here at our former sister paper (I think—no, wait, it was The Telegraph, says Wikipedia): Lookit. If you’re not going to clicky, it talks about how men and women experience music differently, and the basic conclusion is that men are more, ahem, intelLECtual and women are more emotional (of course we are smirk ). Based on this, I don’t see how men could be classified as enjoying the music when really, they’re just kind of collecting stuff about the music in that nerd way they do, be it rare paraphernalia or discussing the relative merits of a Gibson over a Strat. What has that to do with the music itself? As for me, I’m the first to admit I have visceral responses to music. But then you know what happens next? I start listening for harmonies (or creating them in my head if there are none) and breaking down beat patterns and all manner of other deconstruction. And with a refresher course on scales, I could listen to a song and write out the music for it, too; used to do that quite a bit as a kid with my recorder. Don’t know about y’all, but that’s about as nerdy as it gets.

I wouldn’t call the article divisive, necessarily. I just think they’re talking about two different things.


Posted by Broad4:08 AM
Monday, February 18, 2008
Smackdown!

Barry Williams is on “Celebrity Rehab” giving Chyna (the former American Gladiator with the giant ladyflower part) the business for ruining his New Year’s Eve act in Las Vegas.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrowr!


Posted by Broad1:26 AM
Thursday, February 14, 2008
I didn’t mean to

eat the whole pint of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake last night, but I put the lid of it on the floor for the little guy so he wouldn’t be all up in my shizz while I was working, and by the time I’d had enough, the lid disappeared, and even I know that you can’t put ice cream back in the freezer without a protective covering or else it’ll taste like frozen ass.

(I did find the lid eventually; he snuck it under the desk. He’s a sneaky one.)

Feeling tons better about the whole Mother thing but still rather moody. And no, not because of V-D (huhuhuhuhuhuh). More like, I’ve been invited to the Wedding of the freakin’ Year at the end of March, so that means I’m going to have to get something killer to wear, but so far I’ve found nothing that either I love or that I can get the fashion committee to agree upon (i.e. “That green will wash you out,” and “Your boobs’ll bust out all over the place.").


Posted by Broad3:26 PM
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It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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