something happened this sunday that i just can't get over. my mind still creeps back to the minute this particular conundrum entered my life, and frankly, it's interfering with my ability to do things such as...well, that was a bold statement and honestly i'm still living life per usual (so, you know, binge eating pirates booty in my bed for three straight hours every night while i watch friends repeats and wallow that each of their lives is seven hundred and fifty times cooler than mine). BUT, i really have been thinking about this a lot and i need to get it out before it eats me alive.
the scene: me, roomies 1 & 2. Driving back from NYC where we had just celebrated the birth of former roomie. Literally the most hungover goobs in the entire world, bleary eyed and surrounded by more bagels than is appropriate for three girls. we're trying to stay awake and avoid delirium, as we had gotten a mere 4 hours of sleep after dancing it up near union square for a cool SEVEN HOURS the night prior (yeah, that's no typo. imagine, if you will, a drink-up situation wherein you pay a small fee and get unlimited drinks for a few hours. then imagine this club can't handle me blasting through stereos. then take it up several notches. then, spend two hours trying to get back to queens and almost dying many times in varying ways and degrees of seriousness. and that is our night. and early morning. and mid-morning). THE POINT IS, we were playing kill, fuck, mary, which is the most genius game ever invented. or so i thought.
it was all fine and dandy (kill fuck mary jim, michael, and dwight from the office -- obviously marry jim, fuck michael (blech but i mean...not great is better than unbearable when it comes to sex, amirite?!) and kill dwight. preferably with a beet), until dear roomie #1 poses this query:
"kill fuck marry jennifer garner, jennifer aniston, jennifer lopez."
and then, my brain exploded. because it's like OMIGOD WHAT my choices are too good! i know some of you might be thinking...really? j.lo? with garner and aniston up there, j.lo? BUT yes, friends, jennifer lopez. i mean, first of all, i have an irrational love for the movie selena, as should all human beings. second of all, i have an irrational love for the album "this is me...then", particularly jenny from the block, which may just be my personal ghetto anthem. you know, aside from damn it feels good to be a gangster, which is just my personal life anthem. okay, so now that that's cleared up, back to the dilemma.
the thing is, i LOVE jennifer aniston. which you may or may not know. but like -- i don't want to marry her, you know? I want to marry jennifer garner, who is so wholesome and such a good mom and is so sweet and cute but can also kick ass. you know? she's just so...all american, and in the good way like diversity and democracy not in the bad way like tea baggers and opposing rights for anyone who is not a white male. so, obviously i'd want to marry her! i just really think she'd be a great wife.
but then, who do i want to fuck? jen aniston or j.lo? the thing is, just as i don't really want to marry her, i don't particularly want to fuck jennifer aniston. you can't deny that jennifer lopez is all kinds of sexy, especially when she is walking the streets of brooklyn in a belly shirt and fire hydrants are going off and shit. like, i bet she'd be a firecracker in the sack. and i'm always looking for some more bedroom excitement, ya know?
but then....where does that leave my all time celebrity girl crush?! there's only one option left, and i would rather stab myself through the brain with a rusted machete than kill jennifer aniston. which bodes well for her, i suppose. but the point is -- i just want to be her best friend. ooor perhaps her stepdaughter. either one. it would feel sacrilegious to do the dirty with her and i don't want to have to get into married people fights like who can and can't have sex with angelina jolie, i just want to hang out and drink and tan and shop and hang out. but there's no option for that in kill fuck mary!!! that's the flaw of this once-genius game! and that's what has been keeping me up until 10:30pm every night. i just had to get it out.
p.s. one would think this could go without saying seeing as i've said it a billion times so far, but i just re-read this post and feel it must be said again, but i really am NOT a lesbian.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
recently, in an act that was meant to be supportive and problem-solving, one of my beloved roommates, A, direly insulted me. what could she have done? welp, dear friends, she first insinuated and then flat-out advocated for a match.com profile for yours truly. that's right. she wants me to get online, PAY to look through hundreds of pictures of hairy dudes who may or may not have inappropriate relationships with their mothers, and then hang myself with my computer charger cable when, in fact, love does not come a-knocking. FALSE, asshole. i told her i was greatly offended and she couldn't seem to understand why she had committed such a transgression. there are MANY reasons why i am repelled and outraged by this seemingly harmless suggestion for my personal life. WELL...
1. i KNOW the new match.com commercials emphasize that one in five relationships start online these days, and i even know a few happy couples who have, but... doesn't online dating still reek of desperation? and i don't mean that i would judge anyone for doing it, because if you knew some of my online habits you'd see the stone/glass house situation i'm in (also, i understand that that makes it sound as though i'm involved in some sort of cyber child sex slave ring, but i'm not, really. i was more alluding to the frequent hours spent on twitter wildly stalking b-list celebrities). it's just, if i were to join match.com, it's like i would be resigning to the fact that i can't even interact with real humans in the real world anymore. and even though my mom has expressly detailed my aspergers-like tendencies more than once, i still do crave real human interaction. it's like, why would you go online for the CHANCE to have cyber sex when you could just go outside (and not pay!!) for the CHANCE to have real sex?! real sex should ALWAYS win!! and the same principle applies to dating.
2. dating online, frankly, is a terrifying endeavor. you could easily stumble upon some sort of rapist/child molester and unwillingly find yourself in some sort of to-catch-a-predator situation. shit's no good. it's the oldest story on the internet -- you discover a seemingly legitimate man on the interwebs, his picture is a little j.crew-ish and he likes reading and hiking. you set up a date at a local italian place, and then you find yourself beat up in an alleyway with your identity on a plane halfway to shanghai. NO and THANK YOU.
3. creating a profile on match.com just opens you up to judgement and ridicule. i fully recognize that it's completely hypocritical to adore judging others as much as i do and then not allow it to be reciprocal, but come on! and what if someone else is on match.com that i know?! i would die of humiliation if anyone in the world knew that i was apparently out of options. AND I SHOULDN'T BE!! I am 22 for godsakes. and maybe that's old for a playboy playmate, but sweet jesus it's not like i'm 52 and unmarried, living with my seventeen cats and wearing sweaters with applique on them. i honestly feel like the only way it's acceptable to feel like an old maid at 22 is if you are some sort of weirdly religious anti-feminist domestic type. obviously i am zero of those things (except i'm obviously anti-feminist when it suits my purposes, i.e. crying my way out of a speeding ticket). THE POINT IS, just as i have ridiculed those who get married at our age, i would equally hate and rip apart someone who had given up on the real world and had turned instead to the cold comfort of technology to find a mate.
4. the bz roommate in question, is in fact in a serious relationship. she's in loooove and she's so happy and blah blah blah whatEVAR. and you know what? she hasn't been single for more than a month in the past 8 years. LITERALLY. isn't that the most annoying thing you've ever heard? suck it, asshole. the world may have given up on me, BUT I'M STILL HERE.
1. i KNOW the new match.com commercials emphasize that one in five relationships start online these days, and i even know a few happy couples who have, but... doesn't online dating still reek of desperation? and i don't mean that i would judge anyone for doing it, because if you knew some of my online habits you'd see the stone/glass house situation i'm in (also, i understand that that makes it sound as though i'm involved in some sort of cyber child sex slave ring, but i'm not, really. i was more alluding to the frequent hours spent on twitter wildly stalking b-list celebrities). it's just, if i were to join match.com, it's like i would be resigning to the fact that i can't even interact with real humans in the real world anymore. and even though my mom has expressly detailed my aspergers-like tendencies more than once, i still do crave real human interaction. it's like, why would you go online for the CHANCE to have cyber sex when you could just go outside (and not pay!!) for the CHANCE to have real sex?! real sex should ALWAYS win!! and the same principle applies to dating.
2. dating online, frankly, is a terrifying endeavor. you could easily stumble upon some sort of rapist/child molester and unwillingly find yourself in some sort of to-catch-a-predator situation. shit's no good. it's the oldest story on the internet -- you discover a seemingly legitimate man on the interwebs, his picture is a little j.crew-ish and he likes reading and hiking. you set up a date at a local italian place, and then you find yourself beat up in an alleyway with your identity on a plane halfway to shanghai. NO and THANK YOU.
3. creating a profile on match.com just opens you up to judgement and ridicule. i fully recognize that it's completely hypocritical to adore judging others as much as i do and then not allow it to be reciprocal, but come on! and what if someone else is on match.com that i know?! i would die of humiliation if anyone in the world knew that i was apparently out of options. AND I SHOULDN'T BE!! I am 22 for godsakes. and maybe that's old for a playboy playmate, but sweet jesus it's not like i'm 52 and unmarried, living with my seventeen cats and wearing sweaters with applique on them. i honestly feel like the only way it's acceptable to feel like an old maid at 22 is if you are some sort of weirdly religious anti-feminist domestic type. obviously i am zero of those things (except i'm obviously anti-feminist when it suits my purposes, i.e. crying my way out of a speeding ticket). THE POINT IS, just as i have ridiculed those who get married at our age, i would equally hate and rip apart someone who had given up on the real world and had turned instead to the cold comfort of technology to find a mate.
4. the bz roommate in question, is in fact in a serious relationship. she's in loooove and she's so happy and blah blah blah whatEVAR. and you know what? she hasn't been single for more than a month in the past 8 years. LITERALLY. isn't that the most annoying thing you've ever heard? suck it, asshole. the world may have given up on me, BUT I'M STILL HERE.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
my brain doesn't really work anymore. blerg.
i love my job. working with second graders is the best profession EVARRR because short of becoming angelina jolie (the technology for which i haven't quiiiiite perfected yet -- but rest assured, i'm working on it), it's the most complimentary. i mean that literally. seven year olds are super needy and just want you to love them, so hanging out with them every day for eight hours a day is a real self-esteem boost. little girls will raise their hand specifically to tell you that they like your (plain and boring) dress. they'll run up to you on their tiny legs in the morning and give you big hugs and tell you they love you. i've honestly never felt better about myself! who wouldn't want to surround themselves with such laudatory little humans? it's like in one of my favorite movies, aquamarine (yes, one of my favorites. my movie tastes are that of an emotionally misunderstood tween. case in point: i'm currently watching legally blonde 2: red, white and blonde. and loving it). aquamarine, in case you were wondering, is the heartfelt tale of two best friends (emma roberts and jojo of 'leave, get out' fame) who find a mermaid washed up on shore, looking for love obviously, and together they have a summer full of hilarious misadventures overcoming the tribulations of being a teenaged girl, sigh. THE POINT IS, in the movie, Aquamarine (the mermaid girl -- not to be confused with Milagros, the real-life girl from i wanna say, Peru, who was/is actually a mermaid girl but fortunately received successful surgery and now can walk and is taking swim lessons (although...i'm betting she could swim just fine before...)) has starfish earrings that heap praise upon the wearer in weird, smurf-like voices. the slightly terrifying starfish earrings are precisely like my second graders -- i'm actually LOVING this simile i've created. they have teensy little voices, can't tell you enough how great you are, and also leech onto you and have no concept of personal space. lesson learned: second graders are starfish.
second graders are also kind of DUMB. mine are actually academically pretty legit, and have been wowing me continuously with their reading skillz, but good GOD seven year olds are not the brightest some time. Example One: picture a little girl handling scissors like a crazy person, and sneakily looking around the classroom before reaching said scissors up to her bangs. then imagine me sprinting across the classroom and grabbing the offending supply out of her mischievous hands.
"What are you doing!?" I exclaim, as I assumed that second graders would know that cutting flower petals out of construction paper does not necessitate in any way a haircut.
"Nothing."
"Were you going to cut your hair?"
"No."
"Okay, good, because that wouldn't be a good choice. At school, we use scissors to cut paper, never hair. Please be careful."
Repeat this conversation with the same child three times in the next hour. Finish project, walk students to gym, and come back to discover a small area of the floor under the aforementioned students' desk slightly furry. Example Two: it's lunchtime, and i'm on duty which means i go around and open ketchup packets and stop arguments about pudding vs. cookies and generally hate my life. the last five minutes of lunch time is quiet lunch, and the lights are turned down so that the children remember to eat and that lunch is not merely social hour. it works surprisingly well. except, there are always the chatterboxes. i overhear this from one of my girls during quiet lunch --
"...and jacob sitting in a tree, k-i-"
"girls! you need to be quiet, and finish your lunch. you shouldn't be talking at all, let alone about that, it's not very nice." then of course, the denial (plus a little extra)...
"I wasn't!!!!! ..... but they are."
i love my job. working with second graders is the best profession EVARRR because short of becoming angelina jolie (the technology for which i haven't quiiiiite perfected yet -- but rest assured, i'm working on it), it's the most complimentary. i mean that literally. seven year olds are super needy and just want you to love them, so hanging out with them every day for eight hours a day is a real self-esteem boost. little girls will raise their hand specifically to tell you that they like your (plain and boring) dress. they'll run up to you on their tiny legs in the morning and give you big hugs and tell you they love you. i've honestly never felt better about myself! who wouldn't want to surround themselves with such laudatory little humans? it's like in one of my favorite movies, aquamarine (yes, one of my favorites. my movie tastes are that of an emotionally misunderstood tween. case in point: i'm currently watching legally blonde 2: red, white and blonde. and loving it). aquamarine, in case you were wondering, is the heartfelt tale of two best friends (emma roberts and jojo of 'leave, get out' fame) who find a mermaid washed up on shore, looking for love obviously, and together they have a summer full of hilarious misadventures overcoming the tribulations of being a teenaged girl, sigh. THE POINT IS, in the movie, Aquamarine (the mermaid girl -- not to be confused with Milagros, the real-life girl from i wanna say, Peru, who was/is actually a mermaid girl but fortunately received successful surgery and now can walk and is taking swim lessons (although...i'm betting she could swim just fine before...)) has starfish earrings that heap praise upon the wearer in weird, smurf-like voices. the slightly terrifying starfish earrings are precisely like my second graders -- i'm actually LOVING this simile i've created. they have teensy little voices, can't tell you enough how great you are, and also leech onto you and have no concept of personal space. lesson learned: second graders are starfish.
second graders are also kind of DUMB. mine are actually academically pretty legit, and have been wowing me continuously with their reading skillz, but good GOD seven year olds are not the brightest some time. Example One: picture a little girl handling scissors like a crazy person, and sneakily looking around the classroom before reaching said scissors up to her bangs. then imagine me sprinting across the classroom and grabbing the offending supply out of her mischievous hands.
"What are you doing!?" I exclaim, as I assumed that second graders would know that cutting flower petals out of construction paper does not necessitate in any way a haircut.
"Nothing."
"Were you going to cut your hair?"
"No."
"Okay, good, because that wouldn't be a good choice. At school, we use scissors to cut paper, never hair. Please be careful."
Repeat this conversation with the same child three times in the next hour. Finish project, walk students to gym, and come back to discover a small area of the floor under the aforementioned students' desk slightly furry. Example Two: it's lunchtime, and i'm on duty which means i go around and open ketchup packets and stop arguments about pudding vs. cookies and generally hate my life. the last five minutes of lunch time is quiet lunch, and the lights are turned down so that the children remember to eat and that lunch is not merely social hour. it works surprisingly well. except, there are always the chatterboxes. i overhear this from one of my girls during quiet lunch --
"...and jacob sitting in a tree, k-i-"
"girls! you need to be quiet, and finish your lunch. you shouldn't be talking at all, let alone about that, it's not very nice." then of course, the denial (plus a little extra)...
"I wasn't!!!!! ..... but they are."
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