Don't Cry

I've been weirdly emotional lately. Mostly in the past month or so. I'm not sure if it's hormonal or what, but it's kind of irritating. To clarify: not emotional as in "my life is an emotional rollercoaster" or anything. I just cry all the damned time about stupid stupid shit - sometimes in public - and it's getting kind of embarrassing.

Here are some things that have set me off recently:

• this tiny baby on the subway today who regarded me silently and with such wisdom - it was overwhelming and I had to choke back tears.


• the ending of Lost in Translation. The first thing I said when the credits rolled was, "That was SO sad!" and just about lost it. But then Rob said, "No, it wasn't," and I felt instantly dumb and dramatic and swallowed the big giant lump in my throat to save face. Because I cannot let him believe that I am anything less than macho.


• my grandmother's stories about her life before, during and after the war (okay, tears are warranted there).


• an old bearded busker at Sheppard Station singing James Goddamn Taylor, for Christ's sake! Within 5 bars of "Fire and Rain", I was a blubbering idiot. People were staring!


• finally, the most shameful of them all - when Ian proposed to Meredith last night on the finale of The Bachelorette.

I'll understand if you no longer wish to be my friend.

(Now playing: "Where is my Mind?", The Pixies)

There Are Worse Things in this World

This update is mostly due to popular demand. I haven't done much at all this week, aside from working. Today was my baba's 82nd birthday. She is feisty, funny, entirely of sound mind, entirely independent, and conclusively kick-ass. I only hope to make it to 82 if I am exactly like her in every possible way.

I had my first fitting for my bridesmaid dress on Saturday afternoon. I was a little bit worried about how it would look on me, but it's actually quite nice. It is also the most expensive thing I have EVER worn in life (over $500, $120 of that for alterations alone! Alterations consisting of taking in the straps and hemming the bottom.) I am happy that it is pretty.

Oh! Oh! Oh! I went out this week! Twice! First to Spring Rolls and C'est What with Carolyn mid-week and last night with Alison and (a different) Carolyn to The Fox & The Fiddle and The Stag Shop. The Stag Shop was neat. We examined their collection of massively overpriced vibrators and Alison & Carolyn both decided to test-run pretty lube that the salesgirl told us tasted just like grape juice. (Whoa - I just mentioned my grandmother's birthday in the same post as I mentioned vibes and lube. That's not right, somehow.)

Hmm. Ben has brought it to my attention that I am in a rut. I agree, but it's just so difficult to have an actual life when one a) lives in the suburbs b) does not drive c) lives with one's overprotective European parents and d) has a job with crazy hours that demands waking up at 5:30AM on weekends.

I spent a lot of time mentally preparing myself for the unfunnest year of my life, so it's really not as bad as it could be, or even as bad as I had imagined it would be.

Observe:

FADE IN ON - A GREEN AND PINK BEDROOM WITH FLORAL DETAILING, PUNCTUATED BY STUFFED ANIMALS AND PORCELAIN COLLECTOR COUNTRY HATS ON THE WALLS. THIS IS THE SORT OF ROOM A TEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL OR SIXTY-YEAR-OLD WOMAN MIGHT FEEL COMFORTABLE IN. CUT TO - A YOUNG WOMAN, 23. WEEPING BLOODY TEARS.

YOUNG WOMAN: I'm so lonely! I have no money! And no job! And no future! I'm so entirely screwed! And also, lonely! So lonely! So lonely!

ENTER - PARENTS OF YOUNG WOMAN.

PARENTS: Hi honey. It's 8PM. Past your bedtime! Get to bed like a good girl!
YOUNG WOMAN: Yes, mom/dad.
PARENTS: Goodnight, darling little one! Don't ever leave us!

PARENTS FLICKS OFF LIGHT SWITCH.

YOUNG WOMAN TURNS ON FLASHLIGHT AND READS "THE BELL JAR" UNDER HER COVERS, SOBBING ALL THE WHILE.

It's only been about 63% that bad. It could be much, much worse.

It's not as if I've been sent off to war.

(Now playing: "Jonathan David", Belle & Sebastian)

My Funny Valentine

I think it's hilarious that only a couple of days after I wrote this article on DJ Danger Mouse , Rob got bitchslapped with a cease-and-desist order of his very own. Making him the coolest person I know right now.

I spent Valentine's Day with a super hot date - my highschool friend Alison. Since her boyfriend was working until 11PM and my boyfriend is inconsiderate enough to live 3 hours away, we decided to sneak some booze into a movie theatre and see Monster. It was very good and very very sad. I'll die of shock if Charlize Theron doesn't win an Oscar for her performance.

If you haven't seen Monster yet, I suggest that you do. I also suggest that you smuggle alcohol into the theatre, and play the Monster Drinking Game. Basically, drink every time a character in the film takes a swig of beer. You'll be tanked before the halfway mark.

I have a gross coldsore (wanna make out?) and am feeling that I am on the verge of sick this week. The other day, I had this insane headache (which I choose to believe was a real live migraine) that hurt so badly that I actually felt nauseous and left work early. I went home and slept for hours and got better, but my health still feels a little bit precarious, overall.

Hey - I have comments enabled now! Leave comments!

(Now playing: "December 4th", Jay-Z + DJ Danger Mouse)

Dressy Bessy

I went dress clothes shopping with my mom today. That's always fun.

Being a jeans-and-sweater girl, dressing up all purdy goes against every grain of my being, but every now and again I can't get away from it. And it honestly never ceases to amaze me at how little my mother knows my style/tastes/personality after being around me for 23 years, give or take.

My mother considers herself to be a professional shopper, and she's quite good at getting great stuff for super cheap. But when it comes to clothing me, she really has no clue. At all. Here is a short list of things that she made me try on because "clothes looks different on the rack than they do on the body. Sofi. SOFI. HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU DON'T LIKE IT? YOU HAVEN'T EVEN TRIED IT ON!"

• a shiny silver button-down dress shirt that made me look a bit like Ellen Degeneres, were she born on Mars


• a black see-through top with a rubber band looking thing that pulled across my breasts. Very Electric Circus/45-year-old Francophone hooker


• a horrific shirt with a freakishly huge and fluorescent pink Vampirella collar


• this insane cowl neck thing with roses and birds and hell all over it


• a black and red tank top with big-ass flowers all over it that I believe was made entirely of sequins


• finally, a monstrous bustier of sorts made of thick black lace with sheer sleeves that might have been sexy for a month in 1983

Thankfully, my time spent in fitting room purgatory was rewarded with a lovely, classy, simple, feminine black top with a mandarin collar that I actually like. (And mom even paid for it).

In other news, Conan O'Brien has been taping Late Night here for the past few days. I didn't manage to get tickets, and am pretty bummed about that since I've been a fan for many years. So close, yet so far. Adding to my bummery was overhearing a conversation between these two little punks on the subway the other day. They were just heading home from the taping and were talking about how funny Triumph was, etc. I wanted to shout "I loved Conan before you were even zygotes!" but then I realized a) they were probably not zygotes, but eight or nine when I first became a fan of Conan's and b) they probably had guns stashed in their big black trenchcoats. So I said nothing. I sure did sulk, though! Boyyy did I sulk.

(Now playing: "Billy Billy", The Smugglers)

Cold Brains

I'd like to think that I'm secretly a genius, but these bloody internet IQ tests always take me down a peg or two.

My score this time around was 127. In my defense, I kind of rushed through it and didn't read the questions all that thoroughly. But there you go. I can deal with being only-just-slightly-above-average. (Mind you, I hate hate HATE that my brother got 137. I always figured he was smarter than me, but not ten whole points smarter. Thankfully, I monopolized the cute genes.)

On an unrelated note, please pick up this month's issue of Chart. I'm a real live contributor nowadays, and a few of my reviews are featured in the back pages. Also, my Chart writing ends up here for some reason. I don't get paid for anything for those, but still. Neat-o.

(Now playing: "Keep Close", South)

And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out

The reason that my attempts at bloggery never ever catch is this: my life is boring when I have enough time to write, thus I have nothing worth writing about. When my life is interesting, there's never any time to do anything, let alone write. So there you go. That's today's excuse.

(Now playing: "I Gotta Move", Frank Black and the Catholics)