his big debut

excerpts from a recent email...

Sis:
I have decided that my feelings are hurt.
There is Husband. There is Motha. There is Brother Robby. There is Little Scotty.
Then there is “chopped liver”.....me..... no nickname, no fond memories, no nothing.
Readers think your Dad died when you were 4 years old.

[Sniff]
Dad

Welcome to the show, Boss!

one of my favorite things

I love going to the movies. A lot. I love going with friends, with my mom, with my entire family, and I especially love movie dates. I love the whole process of a movie date: dressing up in something a little more fun that work clothes, going to eat together, going to the theatre, getting something sweet [because Husband has turned me into a sweet tooth-- seriously, I can't go any meal without dessert anymore], sitting in the theatre, talking and savoring the anticipation, watching the previews [I LOVE previews. Husband hates them.], and finally, enjoying that exciting moment when the movie begins. I usually commemorate that moment by giving a little squeal and squeezing Husband's arm. He loves that.

There is a small problem in this beautiful scene. Husband isn't always so keen on the movie date. Why, you might ask? What man would not want to take his lovely wife to the movies? Well, understandably, if Husband doesn't want to see that particular movie, he just isn't interested. Which leads us to a key difference between Husband and myself. I love going to the movies so much that I will go to any movie. The atmosphere of the cinema makes up for any horrible movie that I may get talked into seeing. I will go see the action movies, the weird political thrillers, the psychological dramas, whatever. Husband is not so much the same way. He won't go to just any movie. If he doesn't want to see it, he's not going.

Now, this isn't really a problem. Don't cry for me. I discovered this about Husband while we were dating, and I decided that I would have to go to a lot of movies with other people when he didn't want to go. A "pick your battles" situation, you know? So, I go to chick flicks with my mom. I go to fun silly movies with Little Scotty [we actually have quite a lot of fun on our "dates"]. I go to existential out of the box movies with my friends. And when Husband wants to see a movie, I get really excited because I get to go with him!

Which leads me to now. Now is OSCAR SEASON. All the good movies are about to start coming out. The movies the studios know are good enough for this time of year. The kind of movies that Husband likes. YAY! Brad Pitt is at the movies. Cate Blanchett is at the movies. HUSBAND AND I will be at the movies. TOGETHER!

[But I also really want to see The Jane Austen Book Club and you KNOW Husband will just give me a look when I ask him if he will go with me. Takers?]

couldn't keep this to myself

I saw this on msn.com and couldn't resist sharing.

Apparently, the current Miss USA, Rachel Smith, has been discussing her plans for the future with reporters. Those Miss USA gals always do have bright futures, don't they? Last year's Miss USA went into rehab and is now starring on a reality television show that follows the lives of pageant girls living in a house together. The drama! The catfights! The hair pulling!

But this new Miss USA is not like the others. She has SERIOUS plans for her life. Quoth she:
“I always wanted to be a reporter — maybe some TV. Who knows? Some serious news — but some modeling, too.”
Hmmmmm. I'm trying to think of someone else who has successfully combined serious news with modeling. Last time I checked, Brian Williams passed on that Gucci handbag campaign.

While Rachel Smith cannot give an example of someone whose career she would like to emulate, she does have a definite example of someone she DOES NOT want to follow:
“I just don’t want to end up like Katie Couric. I want people to take me seriously.”

Somewhere a fairy just died.

But don't cry for Rachel. I'm sure she will get that modeling wish. She's a lovely gal. Someone just needs to tell her that if you want to be in news, you actually have to WATCH the news. Which she obviously doesn't, since she thinks Katie Couric is dancing on a table in Vegas somewhere.

somewhat diminishing the joy of the weekend

There has been a fly in my apartment for 3 days. A fly. In the Hobbit Hole. For 3. Straight. Days.

The cozy atmosphere of this little abode is somewhat disturbed by an extra inhabitant. There is barely enough space for me, Husband, and Husband's clothes. There is a reason we do not have an animal. THERE IS NO ROOM. If we wanted a pet, there would be a precious puppy living with us. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR A PET FLY.

It's difficult to be productive when there is a fly in the house. It's hard to study when a fly is zipping around your head. I keep getting up from my art notes to attempt to kill the fly, but it is a FAST little bugger. Sometimes I only feel the breeze when it flies by my head. I don't even see it.

And let me tell you how much fun it is to cook when there is a fly around. Everything has to have a lid at all times. You can't pour a drink unless you can drink it all IMMEDIATELY before the fly attacks.

I hoped that cleaning the bathroom would somehow smoke out the fly. Maybe the chemicals would kill the fly and I would find it dead on the floor, a victim of Scrubbing Bubbles. But no such luck.

I am sick of the fly. And yet I am incapable of killing the fly.

Some PLEASE come and kill this fly.

manly men

So I'm in the car with Husband and Brother Robby after church today. I'm trying to subtly pawn Husband off on Brother Robby so they can watch football together and leave me in peace. If I have to clean the bathroom, finish Brother Robby's laundry, and study for an exam, I at least want to have So You Think You Can Dance on in the background.

Me: "So, are you guys going to watch football on the big tv today?"

Husband: "Uhhhh.... I don't know."

Brother Robby: "I don't know."

Me: "Really? Isn't it Sunday? Aren't there lots and lots of games on? Isn't there an XBox 360 to be played?"

BR: "Well, that's kind of the problem."

H: "We have an XBox problem."

Me: "really?"
[somewhat unsuccessfully suppressing a laugh, and not just a giggle, but a deep belly laugh at the drama of an XBox problem]

BR: "He broke it."

Me: "YOU BROKE IT?! DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THOSE THINGS ARE?!"

H: [long narrative about the specific issues with the XBox that was too long and too boring to me to even remember]

BR: "But don't worry, we'll fix it, won't we? Just come over. Bring your tools."

H: "If by tools you mean the cell phone to call the 800 number for technical support, I'll be there in a bit."

confession

Husband and I have a secret. We are closet fans of some trashy reality TV shows. A while ago, we were home together one day and somehow ended up watching several hours of MTV's show Laguna Beach. Brother Robby admitted long ago to being a fan of this little gem, but we had never seen it. Its one of those shows that follows the lives of rich high-school students in California who drive BMWs and say stupid things on camera. We happened to randomly catch a marathon of an entire season that day, and we were HOOKED. We had to keep watching because we HAD to know what would happen to those kids. We HAD to know if Kristin would end up going to prom with Steven. Suddenly, these were the burning questions that had to be answered.

Now, Laguna Beach is over, but we found its spin off called The Hills. Its one thing to watch reruns of these kind of shows, but we are so pathetic that we actually watch The Hills when its actually on. We actually get excited on Mondays, which we refer to as "trash tv night." The hook with these shows is that they make you really care about some characters and REALLY HATE other characters. Then you have to keep watching to make sure things go well for the people you love and things go VERY POORLY for the people you hate. The Hills introduced one of the best reality tv villains ever: SPENCER. I hate him. I feel physical revulsion for this kid. If I saw him in real life, I would give him a swift kick to the shin.

However, it gets worse.

Laguna Beach has created another spin off called Newport Harbor. I know, sounds like a soap opera, right? I saw some commercials for it, and I felt a little snobbery about it. Please, Newport Harbor? That's the kind of show where people steal other people's babies and Carly gets in a car crash and loses her memory and thinks she's in love with her uncle and then you find out HER UNCLE IS REALLY HER FATHER. It is SO not a classy show like The Hills. I would never stoop that low.

So, naturally, one day I'm home on my day off, and what's on? Newport Harbor. And I watch it. And I get hooked. I kept watching. And watching. I HAD to know if Chrissy and Clay would go to prom together. When Husband came home, I quickly changed the channel, hoping to hide my shame from him. But then I felt like an idiot because I was JUST about to find out if Clay asked Chrissy to prom when he walked in. So I confessed.

"Ok, I'm really ashamed about this, but you know that new show Newport Harbor?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I may have been really bored and there was nothing on and I already had all my work done... and I may have watched it."

"You watched that show?!"

"YES! I did. I watched it. But I couldn't help it. I love Chrissy. I want her to be with Clay, but that other dumb blonde girl keeps getting in the way. What if he doesn't ask her to prom?"

"He does."

"WHAT?!"

"He does. He asks her."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!"

"I may have watched it one night when you were at night class."


So, its official. We are LAME. But at least we are lame together.

just like the commercial

"So, what are we doing tonight?"

"I don't know."

"Going to Brother Robby's to play X Box all night?"

"NO. NO NO NO NO NO. Absolutely not."

"Babe, if you don't want me to go, just say so. Say the word and I won't go."

"DON'T GO. You always leave me for him. Spend time with me, YOUR WIFE. YOUR WIFE WHO LOVES YOU. Honor and cherish, remember? Spend your nights on the couch with me. At home."

"I'll interpret your silence to mean that you are ok with me going."

a late afternoon phone call

"Babe, after you left this morning, I saw that you left your wedding rings on the dresser. Did you decide not to be married to me today?"

"Babe! That's horrible! Of course I am married to you today! It was an accident. You KNOW how early it is when I have to leave! Its practically still dark outside. Besides, you didn't get up and make me coffee this morning, so, in a way, this could be considered your fault."

"Well, it doesn't matter because I left my wedding ring right next to yours so you would see it when you got home. If you don't want to be married to me, I don't want to be married to you, either."

"BABE! WHAT?!"

"Just kidding!"

"That is HORRIBLE. You know it was an accident. I can't believe you would do that to me."

"Babe, I DIDN'T DO THAT TO YOU. IT WAS A JOKE."

"Oh. OK."

"But when you write about this on your blog, you should say that I really did it. For effect."

dollar night

On Thursday, Penny and I went to the opening night of the State Fair. We chose that night because admission was only $1. We had no idea how easily we would get our dollar's worth.

Within the first five minutes, we heard a drunk man singing "Honkey-Tonk Badonkadonk" [how do you spell that, anyway?] at the karoake tent. For the uninformed, I believe this little ditty refers to a country gal with a generous helping of junk in the trunk. If we had any doubts about the song's meaning, they were laid to rest by said drunken man's dance, which consisted solely of shaking his own trunk all over the stage to the point of stumbling. While we were partaking in this little delight, a creepy-looking guy walked up and handed us business cards offering private massages. All together now, EWWWWWWWWWWW.

Next, we got our cuteness fix in two ways: PIG RACING and FRISBEE-CATCHING DOGS. The pig races were the cutest thing I have ever seen. They even had a little baby pot-bellied pig who swam in this little trough. Apparently, these people travel all over the country with their pigs IN THEIR TRAILER WITH THEM. sounds a bit messy to me. The frisbee-catching dogs were equally cute, and freakishly skilled. They were jumping all over their trainer and flinging themselves across the room to catch the frisbees. The best part is that they were all shelter dogs. It was quite heart-warming.

Moving on from the cuteness, as we were making our food rounds we found ourselves back in the karaoke tent just in time to see a 300 pound man RAP "Genie in a Bottle." His rap was complete with "I'm a fat man in a bottle, gotta rub me the right way" and a visual presentation of such an action. I thought Penny was going to choke on her apple dumpling.

So far, its totally been worth the dollar, right?

The most amazing part of the night occured just as we were about to leave. In fact, WE ALMOST MISSED IT because we almost left before this happened. Somehow, in the middle of the most conservative state in the most conservative region of this country, THE VILLAGE PEOPLE were in concert. We experienced six aging gay men in full costume [all characters were accounted for] doing hip thrusts all over the Toyota stage. We were doubtful about the validity of these Village People, but a drunk, homeless woman reassured Penny that these were, indeed, the real Village People. She has their record from '72 with all their pictures. She GREW UP with the Village People and those are totally the real Village People.

We knew it was time to leave the fair when we realized that the Indian of the Village People was wearing chaps with nothing under them and a strategically-placed fringe was all that stood between us and a view we did not bargain for. We didn't want to have to ask for our dollar back.

why they shouldn't assign me early classes EVER AGAIN

I lost my car today.

Instead of paying a ridiculous amount of money for a campus parking permit, I park at the basketball arena and ride a shuttle. However, so do a few thousand other people. That's a lot of cars.

This semester I teach at 8:30 in the morning. The system at the basketball arena requires a certain amount of finesse, especially that early in the morning. You see, buses are supposed to run every 5 minutes. You're lucky to get one every ten. If you come at the wrong time, the line will be so long that you won't even get on the first bus that arrives. You have to plan meticulously, experiment a few times at the beginning of the semester, then leave at EXACTLY the same minute every morning to make the trip go smoothly. I know, for example, that I must leave my house between 7:43 and 7:46 am to arrive at the arena at 7:52 to get in line to catch the bus that comes between 7:56 and 7:58 (on a good day). It is a SCIENCE. And usually, I rule at it.

The problem is that I am still half-asleep in a zombie-like state between 7:43 and 7:46 in the morning. Sometimes I have not even had coffee yet because I pour it right before I leave and its still too hot to drink without removing the top layer of my tongue. Me minus coffee is a sad picture. I'm hardly fit to drive.

This morning was no exception. I was armed with coffee but had yet to drink it. I slept through my alarm this morning and had only jumped out of bed around 7:25. I barely remembered to brush my teeth. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the bus on the way to school.

You can imagine that when I got off the bus this afternoon, I had zero recollection of parking my car this morning. Makes finding the vehicle a BIT difficult. I wandered aimlessly up the aisle I usually park on, assuming that eventually Joey the Honda would come into view. Strange. No Honda in sight. I must have looked confused because another girl walking down the lot helpfully offered this gem of advice: "When I can't find mine, it usually means I'm parked further out than I think.

Right.

I literally walked around that lot for the next 5 minutes with panic creeping up my esophagus. Did I lose my car? Where did I park? OH MY WORD, SOMEONE STOLE MY CAR.

Or it could be right over there. At the front of the lot. I must have walked by it at least 3 times.

Husband's encouraging response to this horrible thing that happened to me? "Why didn't you just keep pushing the Lock button so the car would make that beeping noise?"

Ummmm... because that would have made logical sense. Duh.

gimme more..... or don't

Dear Britney Spears,

I think I speak for the entire world when I say, STAY AT HOME WITH YOUR CHILDREN.

I was one of a few people who watched your big performance hoping that you would succeed. Others may have only tuned in to mock you or laugh at your downfall, but I sincerely hoped that you would appear, boa in your arms, and rock us back to 2003 (the last time you were awesome).

I was wrong. So wrong.

If you are going to make a comeback, at least SING FOR REAL. The back up track was so horrendously obvious. You've lost your talent to make us wonder if you are really singing.

If you are going to make a comeback, GET YOUR HAIR PROFESSIONALLY DONE. That was the most horrible weave I have ever seen. Beyonce was mocking you from the audience.

If you are going to make a comeback, WEAR FIGURE-FLATTERING CLOTHING. The bedazzled bra and panties combo was physically painful for even your most loyal fan.

I think we will all be better off if you just stay home and restrict your singing and dancing to watching Barney videos with Sean Preston and Jayden James.

a model of sensitivity

"We need to invite them over to watch the Video Music Awards on Sunday. We watched it together last year. Its a tradition!"

"I do NOT want to watch those."

"I do! Britney Spears is making her comeback performance!"

"She better have worked out A LOT lately."

what I accomplished today

- drank two cups of coffee

-watched Regis and Kelly, where Regis talked about how he was going on The View and Kelly made inappropriate comments about tennis grunts

-watched The View, where I am liking Whoopi more and more, and Joy was mean to Regis

-talked to Motha! about Harry Potter

-ate some chips

-commented on all my students' drafts (yes!)

-cleaned up the Hobbit Hole

-did a load of towels

-ate leftovers

-went to the bank

-did some field research on the new Maggie Moos that just went in down the street (everything's fine, swear)

-ate a banana

-copied art history notes

-ate a granola bar


How did I do so much eating in such a short period of time?

my new-found love

The US Open is taking over life as we know it.

I was never a watcher of tennis until I married Husband. He comes from a family that likes to watch both tennis and golf [and football] [and basketball], so I ended up watching a lot more of those first two sports than I ever had before. I mean, when its your own family, you can just say that you would rather hit yourself repeatedly over the head with a nine iron than watch golf, but with your in-laws? Not so much. [If they read this, they will tell me to just tell them I don't like watching golf (they are good people like that). Still, they like watching golf, and who am I to ask them to change the channel in their own living room?]

HOWEVER, tennis is another story. I took a few tennis lessons in my day, and Brother Robby is a mad tennis player, but I never had much interest until now. I have to admit that I love watching tennis. We were in Paris during the French Open, and we even went down to Roland Garros [see how I threw that name of the stadium in there? Yeah, I know some stuff] to try to get tickets. I knew my affection for tennis was real when I was willing to brave a shady part of Paris and walk past lots of scary ticket scalpers surrounded by even scarier police officers ready to arrest any scalped ticket buyers. Alas, we couldn't get any tickets. But I braved the creepy and that means love!

So, the US Open is going on right now, and Husband has been staying up until strange hours watching it. Sleep generally trumps any and all other activities for me (save one), so I have been missing most of the late night tennis action. Still, if you see Husband, be sure to remind him that his tennis boyfriend, Rafael Nadal, lost in the last round, while my tennis boyfriend, Roger Federer, is about to beat Andy Roddick in the quarter-finals!

the fruit bowl

We're pretty healthy at our house. We try to eat well, and Husband does his fair share of exercising [I honestly cannot include myself in the exercise category]. Husband loves to snack, usually on cookies, but he has been really good lately about eating fruit.

I keep the fruit in this blue bowl-like object on top of our fridge. In our little apartment, which I long ago christened The Hobbit Hole, we don't so much have lots of storage. The kitchen is packed rather efficiently, if I do say so myself. Everything has a place, and somehow it manages to all fit. I MAY be a bit of a control freak, but I hate chaos. I need organization. I need a place for everything and everything in its place.

Then, Husband decided he wanted a fruit bowl.

The problem, apparently, is that Husband forgets that we have fruit in the blue thing above the fridge BECAUSE HE CANNOT SEE IT. That's right. Because he cannot look directly at the blue thing without serious effort, he forgets about the fruit. [Which kind of makes me hope he does not forget other things when he is not looking directly at them. Like my face.] So, Husband decided he wants a VISIBLE fruit bowl. And by visible, he means in the very center of the kitchen table.

The problem is that the fruit bowl, when visible, is often empty because he who sees the fruit, consumes the fruit. At an astounding rate. So, 95% of the time, there is an empty bowl in the middle of my kitchen table. A LARGE. EMPTY. BOWL. Because I cannot buy fruit fast enough to replace the fruit that he devours.

Nothing gets on my nerves like a purposeless, fruitless bowl.