Would Jude Law be who he is today if he was named Wilbur? Let's try some others on for size -- Elmer Ledger, Morty Gyllenhal, Herb Cruise. Ummm, yeah. Not so much.
Would Jude Law be who he is today if he was named Wilbur? Let's try some others on for size -- Elmer Ledger, Morty Gyllenhal, Herb Cruise. Ummm, yeah. Not so much.
Wedding season is fast approaching, and I REFUSE to be the girl on the dance floor with the jiggly chicken wing arms. This means that I actually have to do something about my body - something other than whine, that is. I wrote down some short-term goals on a notepad, took my measurements, and much like last summer/spring, I'm back on the wagon. (I hate that phrase) This isn't like the "diet" I was on about a month ago -- the one that allowed me to eat hash browns for breakfast, consume 64 fluid oz. of Diet Coke daily, and graze over the millions of sugary treats that sit in our office kitchen.
I love that diet. But I digress.
So I went to the damn gym - 20 minutes run/walk on the treadmill, 15 minutes on the Precor, and did situps/pushups at home. I ran, people - you have no idea what this means. I also took photos of myself as motivation. I would post them on this site, but that takes things into a territory that even I am not sure I'm comfortable with. Let's just say that I see my former teeny body in those photos, covered by a big old layer of unnecessary blubber.
Wish me luck!
I took the photo above on our 2005 summer vacation to the South Carolina Low-Country. Despite the horrendous sunburn I got while kayaking, the vacation was wonderful, and quiet, and warm. By posting this photo, I feel I am summoning the Gods to bring us some warmer weather. Please?
Thanks, you guys. I promise I'll only use you as protection until the police get someone into custody. How often does someone get to say THAT?! You're the best.
Confession: If there were a movie made of my life, the big love scene (where the boy and girl eventually get together) would be very specific. Not too mushy, very little PDA, and it would need to be partially in slow motion. Why, you ask? Because I said so, internet. Because it's a movie of MY life, not yours. There wouldn't be anything overtly sexual in the scene - only innuendo and vague motion, because let's be honest - for better or worse, I am not Paris Hilton.
Additionally, there would be no dialogue. The only sound would be the song "Secret World" by Peter Gabriel, playing throughout. A very specific recording of it, in fact, the one from a 2-CD set of live recordings - the name escapes me but the CDs are red and yellow. (Jonna's blog got me thinking about his music)
For those of you that know me well, you know that I have an unhappy history with Peter Gabriel songs, particularly "In Your Eyes" which I hate. But I'll gladly make an exception for "Secret World" - mostly because it makes me want to...[edited out of a sense of obligation to be discreet and also because my mother might be reading this]
The song is just so sexy, I can't explain why I'm drawn to it. Listening to it makes me think of that electric, tactile moment between two people - that instant when you feel like you're going to explode right out of your skin, like all of your nerve endings are raw and exposed. The bass line thumps like a quickened heartbeat, and the melody is sort of lush and mournful in tone. I can't get enough of it.
Saw: V for Vendetta. On IMAX no less (Sean's clever idea). Despite the occasionally gratuitous violence, I loved it - I'm still thinking about the storyline and the characters. Worst part? Natalie Portman's british accent. Best part? Stephen Fry's portrayal of an enigmatic tv personality.
Read: Well, started reading a book by No Uncertain Terms by William Safire. It's so interesting and dense, I can only handle it in short bursts.
Ate: Afghan rice & chicken. Well, technically, Sally Field made it to complement our mother/daughter book club discussion on the Kite Runner...so is it traditional food if it's made by a farm girl from southeast Wisconsin? But it was surprisingly good, and I couldn't taste the cumin (which I hate) at all. Also: yummy make-your-own pizzas at J&J's place. Thanks, guys!
Heard: Found it under the trunk carpet flap that covers my spare tire - Matchbox 20's Mad Season. Sadly the entire CD reminds me of an ugly break-up in college, and yet, some of the songs remain my all time favorites. It also helps that Rob Thomas is so incredibly H.O.T. I'm just sayin'.
Planned: Release of new site - it's coming, I swear.
Realized: Bosses away at meeting in Russia this week - perfect week to debut new site and get absolutely nothing done. Also, cocktails are the ideal way to wrap up the weekend. But only two. I'm going to stop at two. This is my last one, I swear.
1. I never use the entire thing of deodorant/anti-perspirant. I switch because all the health magazines dictate it (something to do with the body's reaction to one combination of chemicals fading in effectiveness, I don't know - look it up)...but I also switch because I inevitably become bored with my current choice. Once I get down to about 1/2 inch left, I go out under the guise of buying a "replacement" stick - but who am I kidding? I start using the new one right away, of course.
2. My handwriting has been, and probably always will be, completely inconsistent. One day it's cursive, the next it's all caps, the next it's a hybrid, and so on. I'm very OCD about controlling it if I'm writing a letter, or note to someone. Even on a post-it...if the inconsistency crops up, I'll rewrite the entire thing until it looks uniform. It's labor intensive, I'll admit, but I do it anyway.
3. I. Hate. Paperclips. My work requires interaction with anywhere from a "little bit" to "a whopping, massive amount of" paperwork. In organizing this, I must admit that I will pick staples over paperclips in a heartbeat. I would rather have papers lined by the pock marks of staples past, instead of having them all f***ed up because this paper clip fell off, and that one grabbed papers it shouldn't have - it's a house of cards. I ban paperclips.
4. I have a somewhat bipolar social personality. Right off, I can be brash, direct, and sarcastic - sometimes (but not often) to a fault. I have no qualms about dropping the f-bomb in front of people I've never met before (provided they're not friends of my parents, or relatives). I've danced on bars, sung karaoke, and done my time as the "life of the party." On the flip side, I'm very anal about etiquette, manners, and proper behavior. I always always ALWAYS write prompt thank you notes, I'm a freak about bad grammar and spelling in writing, and people with bad speech skills drive me insane. I think that Emily Post had a point about a lot of issues, but that doesn't keep me from entertaining the idea of a flip cup marathon with some friends this weekend. This dichotomy can be one of the most frustrating things about me. My friends are special, special people for dealing with this.
5. Excepting the very first one, all of my boyfriends have been children of divorced families. In contrast, Sally Field and Dick Cheney will celebrate 35 years of wedded bliss this June. I infer nothing from this - it's simply an observation that I made one day. I don't think much about the psychology of it all, mostly because I don't think a divorced family dictates a person's worth, personality, or behaviors. But it is a little unusual, so there you have it.
I hereby tag Jen and AM.
Do you know what I saw? A man, standing on the edge of an enormous concrete post, hammering away at two steel beams. I don't have an extensive knowledge of construction, but I'm fairly certain that when connecting two steel I-beams, a hammer isn't necessary. An industrial grade blowtorch, maybe, but not a hammer. But let's assume he knew what he was doing, and wasn't just an imposter or a teamster working his 3 hours for the day.
Oh my God, tangential thinking will be the death of me. Spit it out, Jamie.
The point I'm trying to make: Doesn't it seem weird that hammers are still being used on major construction jobs? Hasn't some MIT mechanical engineer figured out a way to just make skyscrapers that snap together like legos? The Trump Tower still needs individuals hammering away?! Can one person really make a difference on a project of that scale? Do you think that person feels proud upon the completion of a building of that magnitude, knowing that he/she was one of thousands that made it happen?
Then I got on the red line to get back up north, and the freak show began. I love the eL. I sat down next to a man who was the African-American equivalent of Krusty the Klown - completely bald on top, and wild dreads on the sides and back, growing like ivy over his scalp. They were short enough to stick straight out, and I had to physically control myself to keep from laughing.
At Fullerton, a nervous-looking young man got on the train and sat down across from me. Fairly non-descript, really, I probably wouldn't have even noticed him if not for the ENORMOUS stack of Readers he was carrying. We're talking in the double digits, folks. What could he be doing with a frillion free newspapers, I ask you? Decoupaging a coffee table, perhaps? Collage art with preschoolers?
Life is a mystery.
That being said, I've also spent some time evaluating my photography as it relates to this site. My interest in photography popped up long before I ever knew what a blog was, and I have this beautiful camera, and sometimes I'm not even sure if my photos are good. I have this awful tendency to overanalyze, and criticize myself.
Take, for instance, this photo of my niece's hand, taken while she was asleep in her car seat:
At first glance, I like the image itself, and then I start wondering, "Maybe it looks like she has half-fingers because her fist is curled. Will people think she lost all her fingertips in a freak daycare accident?"
It's weird, this blogging, and after almost 2 years of it I'm still not sure whether it's the right fit. As far as creative outlets go, it gets the job done...but is it worth the time I spend? I guess, like many things in life, I just need to stop critiquing and acknowledge it for what it is. A very public diary. And if people don't like my photos, it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone - go ahead with your hate-orade. Bring it on, I'm ready.
He is most notable for his role as Martin Crane on the television show "Frasier," but is reknowned, especially here in Chicago, for his work on stage.
|Your Stripper Song Is|
Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard
"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on
Livin' like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?"
Break out the baby oil, you rock it old school.
Is it wrong that I find his hygiene timing a bit odd? Doesn't it seem strange that he would comb his hair in front of a complete stranger? Productive vanity, at least to me, seemed like something you'd want to take care of prior to leaving your house in the morning. (shrugs)
Then he put his comb away in his front lapel pocket, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to keep a comb in your front pocket. Men, can one of you please explain this to me?
In my next life, I want to be the lead singer of a band called "The Smithereens." But I digress.
Highlights of the big weekend include de-doghairing and disinfecting every surface in my apartment (including baseboards), FINALLY taking the damn christmas tree downstairs to storage, and reorganizing all my hanging files. I did everything short of alphabetizing the condiments in the fridge. I have also discovered the joys of "Oust" spray. It's not just for the bathroom, folks. Anyone with a pet should own a can, or two.
For me, this is a big weekend. Sad, but true.
3 things you wish for (just for you)
1. a strong metabolism to make up for the fact that i never exercise
2. happy, healthy children (someday)
3. a sense of humor
3 things you would do to/for yourself if there was no one to judge you (or if you had the guts to do it!)
2. open my own dance studio
3. get braces...again. (LESSON TO ALL: WEAR YOUR RETAINERS)
3 bad habits you have
1. a bit too sarcastic sometimes
2. i pick at my feet
3. my intolerance of dumb people (or smart people that ask dumb questions)
3 insecurities you feel
1. ummm, cellulite?
2. never having my finances settled like i should
3. lack of self-discipline
3 talents/skills you wish you had
1. i need to learn to stick up for myself, be more assertive
3. spatial reasoning/ability
3 things that you would do if you had more time
1. take ice skating lessons
2. get my laundry done on a timely basis
3. write more letters to my grandmother
3 things that bring you peace/relaxation
1. walking the dog
3. talking with my best friends
3 things that spark your creativity
3. listening to music
I'm the Grinch that stole St. Patrick's Day.
This is Ozzie, isn't it?
I ban leftovers. This is for two reasons, mostly.
1. They never taste as good the second time around.
2. The shelf life is short, so I typically find myself eating them for the next available meal. Which means that I have just eaten the same thing twice in a row.
I know it's wasteful, but it's just one of those things.
Did you grow up in a "clean your plate, or no dessert!" family?
Turns out fainting can get you into the doctor's "top priority list" pretty darn quick.
Until yesterday, I had no idea HOW AWFUL midday television is. I basically spent the entire day changing my clothes - once I'd feverishly sweated through one set of pajamas, I'd change into other, and so on. I also became irrationally angry at the fact that "Ellen" was a re-run. The one day I'm stuck at home, and my favorite talk show is a RE-RUN?! Inconceivable!
Fortunately, the dog loved having me around. He invented new (and seemingly uncomfortable) ways to lay directly on top of me. In fact, I think his body temperature helped me to eventually break my fever...at one point, he was in a dead sleep (as in legs akimbo, eyes shut, the works) directly on top of my ribcage.
Back at work today, trying to mete out my ibuprofen accordingly so that I don't do drastic damage to my precious liver. It worked so hard just to survive college...
These are from last weekend - our final weekend, as a family, in what was supposed to be my parent's retirement home (they have now decided that they don't want to be quite that far away).
Sally Field decided to keep Brianna busy by giving her cupcake liners to play with. Someone decided they would make an excellent hat, and we spent the rest of that day lounging around, Shriner-style.
Both babies were fast asleep during our Italian dinner on Saturday night. Thank goodness we got some pasta and meatballs to-go, because Bri woke up when we got home and was a hungry, hungry toddler.
Grant basically spent the weekend being adorable, and throwing up formula. Good times, good times.
With each day we spend together, my love for you grows, as does my confusion regarding some of your behavior. When I picked you up from the kennel last night, you did everything short of jumping four feet up and into my arms...yet when we went to bed, you refused to sleep in your bed, preferring to nestle amongst a big pile of dirty towels and blankets. At 4 am, you were sound asleep on top of an old beach towel that was pulled half out of a plastic, Whole Foods shopping bag. And to that I say, "WTF?!"
You behaved so well during your bath last night, simply standing still and waiting for it to end quickly...only to escape post-drying session and roll in circles all over the couch. No amount of Febreze can undo what you've done to that cushion.
Sometimes I look at you and think about what would have happened to you if I hadn't come along and adopted you from those nice people in Michigan. I wonder if you'd still be running around that enormous farm with the great danes, huskies, and boxers, thinking you were as big as they. My heart swells with love for you, and I just want to hug you forever like that annoying blond, pigtailed girl in the newer WB cartoons that squeezes people to death with too much emotion.
Then you do something stupid, like poop on the living room rug, and once again the universe is in balance.
Either way, does anyone notice something odd about this photo? Women out there - something look suspicious or "off" to you?
What will the pharmaceutical companies think of next, huh?! Covers for the stirrups? Is this really necessary? Moreover, do the companies want the patients to associate being poked and prodded in unholy places (and the resulting discomfort) with their drug?
I'm both disturbed and, oddly enough, amused by this sales tactic. Talk about using every alternative "billboard" space you can! I must admit that my feet were more comfortable, in a creepy "you should never be comfortable in this situation" way.
Good news earlier today, an identical unit opened up in a different part of the building. Here's hoping that I won't get the royal screw AGAIN and be forced to sue for breach of contract. Keep all fingers and toes crossed until you hear otherwise.
Only got up once last night - around 4am, I think. Up again at 5:50 to beg about getting in bed with me, and of course I let him up, where he slept like an angel on top of my right arm until it fell asleep at 7 am, waking me up.
The Kite Runner was good, but not earth-shatteringly-life-changingly good. I was shocked at some of the more vivid descriptions of the destruction of Kabul -- I can't believe that 40 years ago, my mother and my aunt were backpacking across that region ALONE and stayed safe and sound. Pakistan, India, Turkey, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq - two young women by themselves in another world and now it's a war torn, death zone. Strange and chilling.
Haven't lost much - maybe 2 or 3 lbs. Since I'm not really doing a good job of sticking to the diet, this is not surprising to me.
New Site Update
Basic design is complete. I need to resize the banner, and toy around a little with the stylesheet, but for the most part, it's up and running. I enlisted the advice of a couple, trustworthy blogging colleagues and I'm pretty confident with it thus far. Lord knows I'll probably redesign the entire thing again in 6 months. Tentative rollout is scheduled for Monday the 20th.
Sally Field and Dick Cheney are undergoing renovations in their city pad, and about to sell their beloved house in Galena. Which means that, for the first time in their entire lives, they will be city folk through and through. EMPTY NESTERS MY EYE. We are all headed out to the boondocks to celebrate our last weekend there, as a family. I plan on returning with many photos of small, adorable children, and a guilt complex surrounding the weekend kenneling of my dog.
Sort of puts losing my condo into perspective, doesn't it?
Because I am one of THOSE people who requires a little more sleep than most, I've been getting up to get a treat for him to SHUT HIM THE HELL UP and that usually does the trick. I know, I know, I'm just rewarding him for waking up and bothering me. But when I'm 99% asleep, that's the only surefire tactic I know of to get him quieted down.
It's genuinely weird. For instance, last night he was up at 2:43am, 3:49am, and again at 4:55am. Barking. For all my sleepy (and now pissed off) neighbors to hear. Sometimes I'm standing at the bus stop in the mornings, and can't remember whether I fed him breakfast -- usually breakfast is the last shut-up method, but I try not to feed him until at least 5:30 or 6am.
Somebody please tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do. I've tried barking collars, misting water in his face (as a negative association), muzzling, the works. Do you think that if I paid to have him walked during the day, that he would sleep more soundly at night? Any dog owners out there with advice?
Please? Help the sleepy, crabby, blogger?
I'm more disappointed than anything, but I will strive to keep my optimism about me because (at this point) it's about all I have going for me. Wish me luck.
Best Song - LOVED that the Academy is finally acknowledging the influence of Hip Hop on the entertainment business (and the world). HATED the rap trio's acceptance blurt. I'm not calling it a speech - it lacked basic grammatical structure. That's not refreshing, that's rude.
Terence Howard - LOVED him for bringing his adorable son as his date. HATED the boutonniere combined with that ugly diamond pin on his lapel. Hey T - my grandma wants her brooch back.
It must be love - When I was thinking to myself about how Tom Hanks must have grown his hair to film The DaVinci Code, Sean said, "Has he always had that much hair?" Immediately following the "jinx!" moment was a short conversation on the logistics of hair plugs.
Opening video montage - Clever idea, oddly executed. Billy Crystal looked fat.
Best Dresses - Salma Hayek, Rachel Weisz, Sandra Bullock, Michelle Williams, Felicity Huffman
Worst Dresses - Paul Haggis' wife, Reese Witherspoon, Keira Knightley, Judi Dench
Best Suits - George Clooney, Jon Stewart, Philip Seymour Hoffman, that guy who directed Tsotsi (won for Best Foreign Language Film)
Worst Suits - The one director from Crash with the blindingly white tie, Will Smith, Heath Ledger (tapered pants!), Ben Stiller
So there you have it. Even if you don't give a rat's ass about the outcome, one must admit that they are pretty entertaining to watch. OH, and huge huge HUGE props to Jon Stewart for being the most interesting host since the Steve Martin era.
I prefer to find unpublicized, non-Oprah-endorsed gems to read, but this one was for book club and everybody has been talking about it, so I figured, "What the hell?"
But, I digress. Blogs are funny like that.
Instead of talking about real work, I'm going to talk about fantasy work. I always wanted to open my own dance academy. I still do. (sigh) Someday...
What did you dream about doing for a living when you were younger?
I won't close on it until sometime in July, but until then, will be very busy making all sorts of matrices, charts, and lists of the things I need to accomplish before moving, things that need to be done immediately upon move-in, and things that I meant to do by the time I turned 26. The lists, they control my life sometimes - I tend to spend my time documenting instead of doing. It's a problem, I admit.
I guess I'll be much more excited as the closing date draws near. Or I'll be too busy looking at paint swatches, and rearranging my drawn-to-scale-furniture-layout yet again.
Thanks to the THREE weddings I have coming up this year (one of which I am happy to be in - rocking the wedding party, aww yeah), I thought that it might be time to get my ass in gear. Literally.
Allow me to temper this post with a quick statement. I don't think that I am fat. I do, however, know for a fact that I'm larger now than I have been in YEARS and I don't have beer and pokey sticks on which to squarely place the blame. I also need to work on my tone - possibly by visiting the gym which I pay for and never use.
As is, I don't think that anyone wants to see me shaking my stuff to Kool & The Gang. Not in a dress, not in pants, not in a burlap sack. So it's time to reign it in, so that I can feel more comfortable and confident about certain parts of my body. In short, I am back on South Beach. Not religiously, but there is certainly something to be said of my success last time I was on it.
Be prepared for periodic updates of my success (knock on wood) and if I really get big results, before and after photos! This will NOT become a diet blog...it doesn't deserve that much attention, really. Until then, wish me luck!
Girl #1 - Oh my God, look at the bus thingie above the driver [blinking info bar]!
Girl #2 - Huh?
Girl #1 - It says that it's March 1st! It's March 1st?!
Girl #2 - Dude, where did February go?!
Girl #1 - Seriously. It was like...the shortest month ever!