there are some full-time creepers on this island.
and when i say full-time, i mean it. creeping seems to be their day job. now, they may be moonlighting as, say, a cab driver, street vendor, or parking attendant to pay the bills. but do not be fooled. their career is creeping.
first let me discuss the starring. i have heard that this is common in most latin american cultures, and is somehow genetic and/or socially acceptable. however, in an attempt not to further generalize a topic that is going to be grossly overgeneralized, i’ll limit my opinion to puerto rican men. they stare. and not the flattering ‘oh, i must be looking damn good today’ bashful sort of starring. i’m talking full on, dramatically-perverted-new york city-construction-worker-recently-released-from-prison, i-wish-i-were-wearing-something-amish type of starring. this is not in my head and certainly not a reflection of my personal narcissism because it happens to everyone. and i do mean everyone. last week i saw a women in her 70’s get whistled at. it did not appear to be a joke. this is just to give you an idea of what goes on here.
because a certain degree of creepyness (re:starring) is common, it is sometimes difficult to differentiate a harmless beach goer from the real deal. i will share a few encounters so perhaps you can learn from my experiences and better distinguish a safe starer from a potentially dangerous, however later good for humorous anecdotes, full-timer.
the first is more gross and scarring than funny, but without this incident my attitude may have remained naive and the occurrences that followed may not have happened in the same way.
i was laying on the beach reading ‘the hunger games,’ having an innocent day hanging in district 12 and catching some ryes. all of a sudden, something pulls my attention from panem and i feel like i’m being watched (not so uncommon. in puerto rico and in the novel). but when i look up, i see a man i had barely noticed and previously written off as normal-looking glaring at me with a strange look on his face. at second glance i realize he is completely exposed and touching himself. he was not giving himself a foot massage, i’ll tell you that. GROSS. i reached for my bow and arrow, quickly remembered i’m not actually katniss everdeen, screamed, scooped up my beach things, and got the hell out of there! i moved about 50 feet directly right and plopped myself down in the middle of the beach at the ritz carton. i’m no fool, 5 star hotels don’t stand for shit like that.
in retrospect i should have called the police or hotel security because that. is. not. ok. but to tell you the truth, if i could do it again, i would have pepper sprayed the freak.
honestly, that kept me off the beach for about a week. i just didn’t want to go alone after that. but, as they say, time heals all wounds and eventually i returned to my shady spot under the palm trees. i had a number of successfully peaceful afternoons alone with my kindle and was able to begin to relax.
about 2 weeks later i encountered another, not quite as perverse, creepy guy. but this time i was alert and prepared. also - this guy was from the 80’s. not totally relevant, but entertaining none-the-less. he was wearing tight, multi-colored, florescent shorts complete with matching florescent tennis shoes. and - wait for it - he had a mullet. a real business-in-the-front, party-in-the-back, curly mullet. obviously his appearance caught my attention. (also, i was interested in possibly using his time machine.) as i read, i kept an eye on him. i was wearing my big, audrey hepburn sunglasses, so i was able to be super stealth. i certainly wasn’t going to get caught by surprised again. he paced up and down the beach in my general vicinity, sitting occasionally on the sand to sun bathe. this went on for a while. pace, sit, pace, sit, pace, sit. until finally, he sat on a rock about 10 feet from my shady oasis. where he promptly began to stare directly at me. he was way too close to think i couldn’t see him or wasn’t paying attention, and yet he stared on. i continued trying to read my book, constantly glancing up to check on the status of this full-time creepy guy. honestly, i don’t think he blinked his eyes once in the 10 minutes it took me to get fed up with him. finally, i stood up, took one step toward him and said, ‘is there something i can help you with, SIR?!’ his gaze suddenly turned innocent and questioning, as if saying ‘....what’s you’re problem? i was just looking....’ and he slowly shook his head ‘no.’ i then told him that he’d better ‘move the fuck on.’ and don’t worry. he totally did. you can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl.
the very next day i saw a, clearly, homeless man wandering on the beach. this normally wouldn’t bother me, but i was on guard because of my previous experiences. so i obviously went straight for my pepper spray and put it directly in my pocket. you know, just in case. he walked around for awhile, talking to some of the local vendors he seemed to know, and occasionally to himself. eventually he left the beach. by the time i packed up my beach things and began to head home, i had completely forgotten about him. i turned the corner that leads to our street and just as i was passing a dumpster, i heard a rustling coming from inside. as there are stray gatos y perros all over the island, i assumed it was one of our neighborhood ‘pets.’ turns out, it was our neighborhood homeless guy who was passing the afternoon hanging out in the dumpster. not digging through it, standing in it. now this is a fairly large dumpster. and it has, what appears to be, a window. so there he was, hands gripping the bottom of the ‘window frame,’ smiling a toothless grin and pushing back dirty, seemingly unintentional dreadlocks. as i walked by my new neighbor, the following conversation took place.
homeless guy: ‘hiiiiiiiiii’
me: (withering scowl that should have implied, ‘don’t mess with me, buddy.’)
i began to walk a little quicker.
homeless guy: ‘excuse me, miss. do you, please, have the time?’
me: ‘ummm, i think it’s about 12’
homeless guy: (leaning further out of his dumpster paradise) ‘i’m sorry, what?’
me: (a bit louder) ‘about 12 or 12:30’
homeless guy: ‘oh, thank you. thank you very much.’
as i walked away, slightly puzzled by his politeness, i realized something that really disturbed me. this guy has about 3 teeth, carries his belongings on his back, and hangs out in a dumpster. but, he can speak english! this guy is bi-lingual and i, a college graduate, am not.
so, maybe i shouldn’t judge the creepers of this island too harshly.
except for someone who whips it out on the beach. next time that happens, it’s on bitch.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
drinking: the anti-job
i quit my job.
i’m unemployed and could not be any happier about it. should this make me nervous? maybe. but mostly i just feel extremely happy and completely liberated.
about a month ago i picked up and moved to puerto rico. ‘woo hoo!’ i thought. how exciting my life will be! how wrong. i. was. but lets rewind for a moment.
i choose to defer beginning my career as a teacher for a number of reasons. the economy wasn’t great with teachers being laid off in order for districts to work within shrinking budget. (excellent moves made by various aspects of local and national governments, by the way, because obviously educating our youth should take a back seat to other more pressing issues - but i digress.) all in all, not the best time to be starting out. and honestly, what’s the rush? i mean, you’re only young once - right? i decided to ‘dance’ around a bit before becoming a grown-up. so i packed my bags and moved to boulder. i started waiting tables and making excellent money. (another travesty with education in this country - i was making more money working a 25 hour week as a server than i made working close to 60 hours a week as a teacher. not. good. for education.) i worked at an amazing restaurant, had excellent hours, an awesome boss, and became good friends with my co-workers - often hitting the waterloo for a delicious ipa after a quick and lucrative evening of ‘work.’ not to mention that i was nannying during the day for 2 of the cutest, most well behaved twin boys ever. talk about a care-free life. but after awhile a person with a (almost) masters degree wants to use her brain, you know? you can only say ‘and would you like to add bacon to that popeye pizza?’ and read ‘green eggs and ham’ so many times before you begin to crave some sort of intellectual challenge. or really, a challenge of any sort. so, i began to plan my embarkment on adulthood.
although i knew this particular lifestyle needed to come to a close, i was genuinely enjoying the carelessness of it all. and if i learned one thing from the hippies in boulder - it is to enjoy life, do what you love, and don’t stress. so i as i started thinking about the steps i needed to take to start my big-girl life i decided i needed to find something to act as a climax to this wandering chapter of my life. also i was struggling with where i wanted to live next, as i imagined that wherever it was is where i’d stay long term. you know, build a life and such.
i wanted to go somewhere temporary; put all my things in storage and just go. partially, because moving is such a pain - i was worried i’d plant my self in colorado or move back to chicago just because it was easy. if i did decided to move back to one of those places i wanted to take comfort in the fact that it was a deliberate decision and not simply ‘what makes sense.’ i often feel acting and relying too much on sense leads me down a boring and sometimes bitter path. but where should i go to gain this much needed perspective?
fast forward to puerto rico. my mom moved down here a few years ago because her husband is a professor and works at a university on the island. um, spending a few months in the caribbean rent free? yes please!
i quickly found a job waiting tables at a fairly busy restaurant (more stories about that place to come) and began working on my spanish, poco a poco. however, i quickly learned that this was a full-time job. i’m talking an average of 50 hours a week. and let me tell you, i’ve worked 40+ hours at a number of different jobs over the last 10 years and nothing was quite like what i experienced at this place. i realize that i’m essentially in another country and i need to take cultural differences into consideration. but, working until past 2am and sleeping away the beautiful tropical days was not what i had in mind when i left my happy life in colorado.
it did not take long before i was very lonely and unhappy. again, many things contributed to these feelings. i did not have friends and not speaking the native language made it difficult to meet any, i missed the friends i had in colorado and chicago, my hours made it difficult to spend any time with my mother - part of the allure of this particular relocation, serving wasn’t fun as it had been at my last job, but most of all i longed for a love i’d left behind. as it turned out, i couldn’t see past my optimistic, rose colored glasses about people and my love was totally misplaced on an undeserving person. BUT one good thing has come from the severing of that relationship (and many more to come, i’m sure, as time passes). i realize that certain things, like break ups, are part of life and sometimes aspects of life are out of your direct control. you know, there’s a reason that certain sayings are repeated over and over to generations of people, ‘that’s life’ ‘them’s the breaks’ ‘you win some, you loose some’, have a lot of validity. however, there are parts of life that are totally in your control.
i did not have to continue working a job i hated. once i realized i was irritated by the happy people simply trying to enjoy their vacation and bitterly saying things like, ‘welcome to the island’ to explain why their food was taking so long or why they had to pay for a soda refill, i knew it was time to end it. this was something i had control over.
the bonus of working those long hours is that i had absolutely no time to spend any of my earnings and therefore have saved some money to live on. (i guess i’m living with my mom and have almost no bills, so i should probably call it money to ‘play’ on - which sounds more fun anyway, right?) so, i’ve decided to enjoy my time on the island in any and every way i know how. reading on the beach, learning spanish and guitar, practicing yoga, and playing tennis with my mom. but most of all i’m getting back to writing. this time my handicap isn’t a broken foot, but a broken heart and a place i don’t belong. as my mom says, ‘there are worse places to be miserable.’ i know she’s right and even more, i refuse to be unhappy in the caribbean in the winter. after i quit, my mom’s husband, marty, promptly said ‘don’t worry about money, we won’t let you go sober.’
so instead of being on what i used to refer to as ‘the extended vacation from hell,’ i resolve to take advantage of this as a truly extended vacation. because real life will start soon enough.
until then i plan to follow this motto - ‘drinking: the anti job’.
i’m unemployed and could not be any happier about it. should this make me nervous? maybe. but mostly i just feel extremely happy and completely liberated.
about a month ago i picked up and moved to puerto rico. ‘woo hoo!’ i thought. how exciting my life will be! how wrong. i. was. but lets rewind for a moment.
i choose to defer beginning my career as a teacher for a number of reasons. the economy wasn’t great with teachers being laid off in order for districts to work within shrinking budget. (excellent moves made by various aspects of local and national governments, by the way, because obviously educating our youth should take a back seat to other more pressing issues - but i digress.) all in all, not the best time to be starting out. and honestly, what’s the rush? i mean, you’re only young once - right? i decided to ‘dance’ around a bit before becoming a grown-up. so i packed my bags and moved to boulder. i started waiting tables and making excellent money. (another travesty with education in this country - i was making more money working a 25 hour week as a server than i made working close to 60 hours a week as a teacher. not. good. for education.) i worked at an amazing restaurant, had excellent hours, an awesome boss, and became good friends with my co-workers - often hitting the waterloo for a delicious ipa after a quick and lucrative evening of ‘work.’ not to mention that i was nannying during the day for 2 of the cutest, most well behaved twin boys ever. talk about a care-free life. but after awhile a person with a (almost) masters degree wants to use her brain, you know? you can only say ‘and would you like to add bacon to that popeye pizza?’ and read ‘green eggs and ham’ so many times before you begin to crave some sort of intellectual challenge. or really, a challenge of any sort. so, i began to plan my embarkment on adulthood.
although i knew this particular lifestyle needed to come to a close, i was genuinely enjoying the carelessness of it all. and if i learned one thing from the hippies in boulder - it is to enjoy life, do what you love, and don’t stress. so i as i started thinking about the steps i needed to take to start my big-girl life i decided i needed to find something to act as a climax to this wandering chapter of my life. also i was struggling with where i wanted to live next, as i imagined that wherever it was is where i’d stay long term. you know, build a life and such.
i wanted to go somewhere temporary; put all my things in storage and just go. partially, because moving is such a pain - i was worried i’d plant my self in colorado or move back to chicago just because it was easy. if i did decided to move back to one of those places i wanted to take comfort in the fact that it was a deliberate decision and not simply ‘what makes sense.’ i often feel acting and relying too much on sense leads me down a boring and sometimes bitter path. but where should i go to gain this much needed perspective?
fast forward to puerto rico. my mom moved down here a few years ago because her husband is a professor and works at a university on the island. um, spending a few months in the caribbean rent free? yes please!
i quickly found a job waiting tables at a fairly busy restaurant (more stories about that place to come) and began working on my spanish, poco a poco. however, i quickly learned that this was a full-time job. i’m talking an average of 50 hours a week. and let me tell you, i’ve worked 40+ hours at a number of different jobs over the last 10 years and nothing was quite like what i experienced at this place. i realize that i’m essentially in another country and i need to take cultural differences into consideration. but, working until past 2am and sleeping away the beautiful tropical days was not what i had in mind when i left my happy life in colorado.
it did not take long before i was very lonely and unhappy. again, many things contributed to these feelings. i did not have friends and not speaking the native language made it difficult to meet any, i missed the friends i had in colorado and chicago, my hours made it difficult to spend any time with my mother - part of the allure of this particular relocation, serving wasn’t fun as it had been at my last job, but most of all i longed for a love i’d left behind. as it turned out, i couldn’t see past my optimistic, rose colored glasses about people and my love was totally misplaced on an undeserving person. BUT one good thing has come from the severing of that relationship (and many more to come, i’m sure, as time passes). i realize that certain things, like break ups, are part of life and sometimes aspects of life are out of your direct control. you know, there’s a reason that certain sayings are repeated over and over to generations of people, ‘that’s life’ ‘them’s the breaks’ ‘you win some, you loose some’, have a lot of validity. however, there are parts of life that are totally in your control.
i did not have to continue working a job i hated. once i realized i was irritated by the happy people simply trying to enjoy their vacation and bitterly saying things like, ‘welcome to the island’ to explain why their food was taking so long or why they had to pay for a soda refill, i knew it was time to end it. this was something i had control over.
the bonus of working those long hours is that i had absolutely no time to spend any of my earnings and therefore have saved some money to live on. (i guess i’m living with my mom and have almost no bills, so i should probably call it money to ‘play’ on - which sounds more fun anyway, right?) so, i’ve decided to enjoy my time on the island in any and every way i know how. reading on the beach, learning spanish and guitar, practicing yoga, and playing tennis with my mom. but most of all i’m getting back to writing. this time my handicap isn’t a broken foot, but a broken heart and a place i don’t belong. as my mom says, ‘there are worse places to be miserable.’ i know she’s right and even more, i refuse to be unhappy in the caribbean in the winter. after i quit, my mom’s husband, marty, promptly said ‘don’t worry about money, we won’t let you go sober.’
so instead of being on what i used to refer to as ‘the extended vacation from hell,’ i resolve to take advantage of this as a truly extended vacation. because real life will start soon enough.
until then i plan to follow this motto - ‘drinking: the anti job’.
Monday, July 18, 2011
oh, AND she's in glee
i met idina menzel on saturday.
yep. thats right, elphaba walked right in to lucky pie. and, in response to my dad’s text, no, she was not green - unfortunately. she was, however, wonderfully and jewishly pale and out to dinner with her family, (no strikingly handsome, bald, black man to be found, but she DID have her adorable nugget with her) presumably preparing for her show at red rocks on sunday. you may be asking yourself ‘preparing’? what was she doing that could be considered vocal prep at the pie hole? why - drinking beer and eating pizza, of course! (ok, so i have no idea what she ate because i wasn’t allowed to wait on her. i just like to imagine thats how all broadway stars get ready for a big show...)
and yes, thats right, i said i wasn’t allowed to wait on her. in fact, my initial reaction to her remarkably close presence frightened a few of my coworkers in to suggesting it might be in my best interest to avoid her completely. seriously? you are telling me NOT to go meet one of my idols? don’t you know who that is?! (they did not.) that’s maureen!!! i simply could not understand why they would make such an outrageous suggestion! i mean, just because i was one step away from needing to breathe into a paper bag and my hands were shaking to the point of being unable to carry a tray. geez! isn’t that how everyone would react? no?
i work with a bunch of guys - beer drinking, baseball watching, unwashed, hippie guys. did i mention they’re all straight? needless to say, i was alone in my seemingly-over-the-top adoration. anyone who has ever seen my enthusiasm while belting along to ‘take me or leave me’ or ‘defying gravity’ can probably understand the impact meeting idina menzel had on me. i mean, i’ve had a framed ‘rent’ poster on my wall since middle school. and if you think that poster came to college with me, you’d be right. so basically idina has been starring down at me (wearing cat ears and a pleather jumpsuit) for nearly a decade. [side note to creepers: no, it’s not a photo of just her in that outfit! the whole cast is on the poster! come on, now. lets not get carried away]
while waiting for the perfect moment to approach her, (don’t worry, i totally waited till she was done eating and about to leave. ‘cause i’m classy, duh) a line from the movie ‘notting hill’ kept repeating over and over in my head. it’s when the goofy sister of hugh grant meets his movie star date for the evening. completely star struck and googley, she says ‘this is one of those key moments in life where it’s possible you can be really, genuinely cool and i’m going to fail just 100%.” all i could think was: don’t. be. awkward. ok - that’s a total lie. that's not ALL i could think. i DID have those thoughts numerous times, but they were scattered intermittently amongst louder thoughts of “holy shit!” - “there’s a poster of you on my bedroom wall!” - “do you know how many hours i’ve spent singing along with your voice?!?! you’re gorgeous, gorgeous voice!” - “omg, what was jonathan larson like?!” - “oooooooh, what is lea michelle like?” - “you’re baby is too cute! does he sing yet? can i touch his hair?! do you need a nanny, because i’m willing to relocate!” - “WANNA BE FRIENDS?!”
it’s a good thing i’ve seen ‘notting hill’ upwards of 50 times and was able to talk myself out of being the crazy, creepy fan (even though thats clearly what i am. evident by my previous, mildly embarrassing, admission). in the end i simply told her i was a huge, huge fan and was completely thrilled to meet her. then, so as not to get awkward, i turned my attention to the scrumptious little nugget in her arms. and not to brag, but he totally shared his firetruck with me. it was pretty awesome. his mom must have thought so too, because she then gave me (and the teenage hostess who was almost as excited as i was) her agent’s number to call for tickets to her show the following night. “no pressure or anything,” she says, “but if you want to come see the show daphne can set you up with tickets.” no pressure?! seriously?!?!?! it was basically one of the best moments of my life. and not awkward at all! ok, ok, so there may have been an unplanned wink at some point during the brief conversation, but i tend to get a little twitchy when i get to that degree of nervous. and i think i passed it off as an interaction with the baby. possibly. i hope. but, hey, i definitely did my best.
the show the following night was incredible. the guest conductor for the colorado symphony orchestra was the legendary marvin hamlisch, which was certainly an unexpected bonus. but, for me, nothing compared to the nice jewish girl skipping barefoot around stage in a beautifully flowing yellow dress, singing the incredible songs that so significantly impacted my relationship with musical theatre, and thus baaasically changed my life.
i’d also like to add, that my favorite part of the show was when she forgot the lyrics to ‘defying gravity.’ what can i say? i’m a sucker for beautiful imperfection. and irony. i love me some irony.
yep. thats right, elphaba walked right in to lucky pie. and, in response to my dad’s text, no, she was not green - unfortunately. she was, however, wonderfully and jewishly pale and out to dinner with her family, (no strikingly handsome, bald, black man to be found, but she DID have her adorable nugget with her) presumably preparing for her show at red rocks on sunday. you may be asking yourself ‘preparing’? what was she doing that could be considered vocal prep at the pie hole? why - drinking beer and eating pizza, of course! (ok, so i have no idea what she ate because i wasn’t allowed to wait on her. i just like to imagine thats how all broadway stars get ready for a big show...)
and yes, thats right, i said i wasn’t allowed to wait on her. in fact, my initial reaction to her remarkably close presence frightened a few of my coworkers in to suggesting it might be in my best interest to avoid her completely. seriously? you are telling me NOT to go meet one of my idols? don’t you know who that is?! (they did not.) that’s maureen!!! i simply could not understand why they would make such an outrageous suggestion! i mean, just because i was one step away from needing to breathe into a paper bag and my hands were shaking to the point of being unable to carry a tray. geez! isn’t that how everyone would react? no?
i work with a bunch of guys - beer drinking, baseball watching, unwashed, hippie guys. did i mention they’re all straight? needless to say, i was alone in my seemingly-over-the-top adoration. anyone who has ever seen my enthusiasm while belting along to ‘take me or leave me’ or ‘defying gravity’ can probably understand the impact meeting idina menzel had on me. i mean, i’ve had a framed ‘rent’ poster on my wall since middle school. and if you think that poster came to college with me, you’d be right. so basically idina has been starring down at me (wearing cat ears and a pleather jumpsuit) for nearly a decade. [side note to creepers: no, it’s not a photo of just her in that outfit! the whole cast is on the poster! come on, now. lets not get carried away]
while waiting for the perfect moment to approach her, (don’t worry, i totally waited till she was done eating and about to leave. ‘cause i’m classy, duh) a line from the movie ‘notting hill’ kept repeating over and over in my head. it’s when the goofy sister of hugh grant meets his movie star date for the evening. completely star struck and googley, she says ‘this is one of those key moments in life where it’s possible you can be really, genuinely cool and i’m going to fail just 100%.” all i could think was: don’t. be. awkward. ok - that’s a total lie. that's not ALL i could think. i DID have those thoughts numerous times, but they were scattered intermittently amongst louder thoughts of “holy shit!” - “there’s a poster of you on my bedroom wall!” - “do you know how many hours i’ve spent singing along with your voice?!?! you’re gorgeous, gorgeous voice!” - “omg, what was jonathan larson like?!” - “oooooooh, what is lea michelle like?” - “you’re baby is too cute! does he sing yet? can i touch his hair?! do you need a nanny, because i’m willing to relocate!” - “WANNA BE FRIENDS?!”
it’s a good thing i’ve seen ‘notting hill’ upwards of 50 times and was able to talk myself out of being the crazy, creepy fan (even though thats clearly what i am. evident by my previous, mildly embarrassing, admission). in the end i simply told her i was a huge, huge fan and was completely thrilled to meet her. then, so as not to get awkward, i turned my attention to the scrumptious little nugget in her arms. and not to brag, but he totally shared his firetruck with me. it was pretty awesome. his mom must have thought so too, because she then gave me (and the teenage hostess who was almost as excited as i was) her agent’s number to call for tickets to her show the following night. “no pressure or anything,” she says, “but if you want to come see the show daphne can set you up with tickets.” no pressure?! seriously?!?!?! it was basically one of the best moments of my life. and not awkward at all! ok, ok, so there may have been an unplanned wink at some point during the brief conversation, but i tend to get a little twitchy when i get to that degree of nervous. and i think i passed it off as an interaction with the baby. possibly. i hope. but, hey, i definitely did my best.
the show the following night was incredible. the guest conductor for the colorado symphony orchestra was the legendary marvin hamlisch, which was certainly an unexpected bonus. but, for me, nothing compared to the nice jewish girl skipping barefoot around stage in a beautifully flowing yellow dress, singing the incredible songs that so significantly impacted my relationship with musical theatre, and thus baaasically changed my life.
i’d also like to add, that my favorite part of the show was when she forgot the lyrics to ‘defying gravity.’ what can i say? i’m a sucker for beautiful imperfection. and irony. i love me some irony.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
gotta love her, dont-cha-know?
the following conversation recently took place. the absolute ridiculousness of the content is just the inspiration i was searching for to come back to the blogosphere.
me: lauren got engaged last night
mom: oh, thats nice. where's that one going to be?
me: minneapolis
mom: well, aloha
pause for obvious confusion
me: um... what? did you just say aloha in reference to minnesota?
mom (completely serious): howdy!
me: howdy?! are you joking? seriously, is this a joke?
mom (laughing but, beginning to become frustrated): well, what do they say there?!
me: don't-cha-know? did you mean to say don't-cha-know, and actually said aloha? because thats not even a little bit close to the same thing... i mean, hawaii and minnesota? that't about as opposite as it gets. unless, of course, you throw texas into the mix. then, it may even become MORE opposite. are you serious right now?! is this conversation actually happening?
mom (happy to finally be on the same page): oh, well see! you knew what i meant!
this, ladies and gentlemen, is what i'm dealing with...
me: lauren got engaged last night
mom: oh, thats nice. where's that one going to be?
me: minneapolis
mom: well, aloha
pause for obvious confusion
me: um... what? did you just say aloha in reference to minnesota?
mom (completely serious): howdy!
me: howdy?! are you joking? seriously, is this a joke?
mom (laughing but, beginning to become frustrated): well, what do they say there?!
me: don't-cha-know? did you mean to say don't-cha-know, and actually said aloha? because thats not even a little bit close to the same thing... i mean, hawaii and minnesota? that't about as opposite as it gets. unless, of course, you throw texas into the mix. then, it may even become MORE opposite. are you serious right now?! is this conversation actually happening?
mom (happy to finally be on the same page): oh, well see! you knew what i meant!
this, ladies and gentlemen, is what i'm dealing with...
Monday, February 14, 2011
17 or 71?
i didn’t watch the grammy awards. i actually didn’t even know they happened until late this afternoon. does this make me out of touch? unaware of my cultural surroundings? dare i say, old? at the age of 24 i have been declared elderly. by my father. ouch.
after i realized that i’d never heard of the majority of winners he mentioned, it was hard not to consider the possibility that my dad’s sarcastic remarks may hold some shameful validity. the truth is, i don’t know what the kids are listening to these days. that is, of course, unless i’ve been introduced to these young-people tunes by the cast of glee. because, as i told my dad in defense, my ipod (and internal radio) is always rocking out to cory monteith and crew. all glee, all the time.
wait. isn’t that more descriptive of a pre-teen than a senior citizen?
hmm, something to ponder...
after i realized that i’d never heard of the majority of winners he mentioned, it was hard not to consider the possibility that my dad’s sarcastic remarks may hold some shameful validity. the truth is, i don’t know what the kids are listening to these days. that is, of course, unless i’ve been introduced to these young-people tunes by the cast of glee. because, as i told my dad in defense, my ipod (and internal radio) is always rocking out to cory monteith and crew. all glee, all the time.
wait. isn’t that more descriptive of a pre-teen than a senior citizen?
hmm, something to ponder...
Sunday, February 13, 2011
dancing through life
i am not a dancer. anyone who has ever seen me in the boom-boom room at the hawk can attest to that. and i’ve certainly never been a dancer in the traditional sense. i learned early on that it’s impossible to be a triple threat when you’re physically incapable of moving the top and bottom halves of your body at the same time. (ok - i’ll be honest - i can barely move them separately. seriously. i break body parts walking upstairs. that’s right. walking.)
the point is, it’s a metaphor.
and the reason i especially love this - in reference to my pseudo-nonsensical, utterly ridiculous, charmingly fabulous life - is because of the irony in my awkward clumsiness.
i haven’t always been this way. (i don’t think...) but i’ve come to accept that, along with being severely directionally challenged, i’m handicapped in the area of coordination. when people fall or drop something at work, they call it ‘pulling a jenn.’ (don’t worry - i’ve become numb to the truthful sting of their jabs.)
the point is, it’s ironic.
besides the obvious gleeky undertones, anything that is both metaphoric AND ironic is fittingly descriptive as far as i am concerned. because nothing is more autobiographical than a two-for-one, high school lit. class throwback and theatre reference. i mean, that’s basically all i’m about.
well, that and sarcasm. i’m really in to that too.
the point is, it’s a metaphor.
and the reason i especially love this - in reference to my pseudo-nonsensical, utterly ridiculous, charmingly fabulous life - is because of the irony in my awkward clumsiness.
i haven’t always been this way. (i don’t think...) but i’ve come to accept that, along with being severely directionally challenged, i’m handicapped in the area of coordination. when people fall or drop something at work, they call it ‘pulling a jenn.’ (don’t worry - i’ve become numb to the truthful sting of their jabs.)
the point is, it’s ironic.
besides the obvious gleeky undertones, anything that is both metaphoric AND ironic is fittingly descriptive as far as i am concerned. because nothing is more autobiographical than a two-for-one, high school lit. class throwback and theatre reference. i mean, that’s basically all i’m about.
well, that and sarcasm. i’m really in to that too.
Monday, December 6, 2010
why i like playing jaq
let me tell you a little about my friend ashley.
she’s fun, smart, blonde (no matter what color her hair appears), messy, giggley, and fabulous.
her alter ego’s name is gus-gus. you know, the mouse from cinderella? he’s the chubby one. (ashley is not chubby at all- but her personality kind of is)
she has a great apartment in a trendy neighborhood in chicago - with nothing hanging on her boring white walls.
we always make her calculate the tip, but never let her choose the restaurant.
and sometimes, she’s dumb. completely, wonderfully, and adorably dumb
this weekend i stayed with ashley at her apartment in chicago. as always, we had a great time (ie: lots of glee and laying in bed). as luck would have it, ashley’s parents were driving through the city on their way home from visiting her younger brother at college. marguerite and little joey rubin AND blueberry pancakes?! count me in! besides, ashley’s mom and i totally love to gang up on ash and have secret conversations about her - in front of her face. it’s really fun.
after 2 hours of ashley’s parents and me playing, 3 vs. 1, lets-grill-ash-about-her-new-boyfriend, we made our way back to her apartment. (side note: she told her parents they weren’t allowed up because it was too messy. and they accepted it and waited in the lobby! wow. i was muy impressed.) we then proceeded to unload their packed minivan with decorative objects, hand picked from the exotic boutiques of minneapolis, meant to furnish ashley’s apartment.
fast forward through hugs, good-byes, and ‘thanks for the pancakes!’ and ashley and i are back in her oh-so-bare apartment staring at piles of unknown decor. i glance at ash and see an overwhelmed and defeated gus-gus sighing back at me.
of course, i knew what i had to do. i’d known since we were unloading the car and marguerite made serious eye contact with me and said, ‘help her.’ the experience i gained in the 6 weeks i’ve spent healing and decorating my own place, along with the 8 cups of coffee i consumed at brunch, kicked in to action. i started hammering and moving furniture. i zipped around her apartment like a cartoon character, hanging and rearranging. (i did a great job, but i’ll pat myself on the back about my decorating skills another time.)
as i start shifting objects to accommodate the new artistic flare, i notice that almost all of ashley’s furniture is set off the wall 6-9 inches. i find this strange. ashley lives in a studio apartment. it’s a decent size, but in a studio you want to utilize every inch of available space. right? i point this out to ashley. gus-gus simply gives me a confused/guilty smile, shrugs, and giggles.
ashley’s a little dumb - exhibit a:
we’re sitting on ashley’s couch admiring our productive afternoon and ashley says ‘wow, my apartment looks bigger!’ no kidding ashley. moving all the furniture back a foot, so it’s actually touching the wall, can have that affect on a room.
the next morning i wake up, after ashley has gone to work, and my sleepy gaze lands on ashley’s bookshelves. they’re really cool, (yes, bookshelves can absolutely be cool!) they are the style that gives the illusion of slanting against the wall. you know, the bottom shelf is the biggest and each shelf gets slightly smaller as they get higher. thats when i realized something strange. the shelves were actually slanted. as in, not straight. as in, when you set objects on them the objects fall over.
after i - continuing my role as decorator - fixed the shelves, the following text conversation took place.
a.k.a. ashley’s a little dumb - exhibit b:
me: i fixed your bookshelves so they don’t slant. you’re welcome.
me: p.s. you’re a little retarded
me: love you! :)
ash: they’re supposed to slant. haha.
me: no. bookshelves are never designed to slant. they’re supposed to look like they’re slanting without letting candle wax drip everywhere.
the following images will continue to make me laugh when i return to colorado. they represent 3 square feet of unused floor space, bookshelves that are ‘supposed’ to slant, and one of ashley’s most endearing qualities - adorable dumbness :) miss you already, ash. and remember, premium real estate can be priceless. you now have enough space to lay down a yoga mat. you are welcome.
after i moved them. the slanted residue remains.
note the indentations where the furniture used to be. looks bigger, huh?
she’s fun, smart, blonde (no matter what color her hair appears), messy, giggley, and fabulous.
her alter ego’s name is gus-gus. you know, the mouse from cinderella? he’s the chubby one. (ashley is not chubby at all- but her personality kind of is)
she has a great apartment in a trendy neighborhood in chicago - with nothing hanging on her boring white walls.
we always make her calculate the tip, but never let her choose the restaurant.
and sometimes, she’s dumb. completely, wonderfully, and adorably dumb
this weekend i stayed with ashley at her apartment in chicago. as always, we had a great time (ie: lots of glee and laying in bed). as luck would have it, ashley’s parents were driving through the city on their way home from visiting her younger brother at college. marguerite and little joey rubin AND blueberry pancakes?! count me in! besides, ashley’s mom and i totally love to gang up on ash and have secret conversations about her - in front of her face. it’s really fun.
after 2 hours of ashley’s parents and me playing, 3 vs. 1, lets-grill-ash-about-her-new-boyfriend, we made our way back to her apartment. (side note: she told her parents they weren’t allowed up because it was too messy. and they accepted it and waited in the lobby! wow. i was muy impressed.) we then proceeded to unload their packed minivan with decorative objects, hand picked from the exotic boutiques of minneapolis, meant to furnish ashley’s apartment.
fast forward through hugs, good-byes, and ‘thanks for the pancakes!’ and ashley and i are back in her oh-so-bare apartment staring at piles of unknown decor. i glance at ash and see an overwhelmed and defeated gus-gus sighing back at me.
of course, i knew what i had to do. i’d known since we were unloading the car and marguerite made serious eye contact with me and said, ‘help her.’ the experience i gained in the 6 weeks i’ve spent healing and decorating my own place, along with the 8 cups of coffee i consumed at brunch, kicked in to action. i started hammering and moving furniture. i zipped around her apartment like a cartoon character, hanging and rearranging. (i did a great job, but i’ll pat myself on the back about my decorating skills another time.)
as i start shifting objects to accommodate the new artistic flare, i notice that almost all of ashley’s furniture is set off the wall 6-9 inches. i find this strange. ashley lives in a studio apartment. it’s a decent size, but in a studio you want to utilize every inch of available space. right? i point this out to ashley. gus-gus simply gives me a confused/guilty smile, shrugs, and giggles.
ashley’s a little dumb - exhibit a:
we’re sitting on ashley’s couch admiring our productive afternoon and ashley says ‘wow, my apartment looks bigger!’ no kidding ashley. moving all the furniture back a foot, so it’s actually touching the wall, can have that affect on a room.
the next morning i wake up, after ashley has gone to work, and my sleepy gaze lands on ashley’s bookshelves. they’re really cool, (yes, bookshelves can absolutely be cool!) they are the style that gives the illusion of slanting against the wall. you know, the bottom shelf is the biggest and each shelf gets slightly smaller as they get higher. thats when i realized something strange. the shelves were actually slanted. as in, not straight. as in, when you set objects on them the objects fall over.
after i - continuing my role as decorator - fixed the shelves, the following text conversation took place.
a.k.a. ashley’s a little dumb - exhibit b:
me: i fixed your bookshelves so they don’t slant. you’re welcome.
me: p.s. you’re a little retarded
me: love you! :)
ash: they’re supposed to slant. haha.
me: no. bookshelves are never designed to slant. they’re supposed to look like they’re slanting without letting candle wax drip everywhere.
the following images will continue to make me laugh when i return to colorado. they represent 3 square feet of unused floor space, bookshelves that are ‘supposed’ to slant, and one of ashley’s most endearing qualities - adorable dumbness :) miss you already, ash. and remember, premium real estate can be priceless. you now have enough space to lay down a yoga mat. you are welcome.
after i moved them. the slanted residue remains.
note the indentations where the furniture used to be. looks bigger, huh?
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