shut your freakin' gob, banana, okay?

since molly totally called me out on the carpet for being a total space cadet and not posting (in my defense - i have a really good excuse. two really. i'm just getting over a three week hiatus of really bad decision making. one of those decisions? not blogging), here i am. blogging. but i have nothing to report.

so i'm going to make up a list of my favorite movie lines instead, mmmk? doesn't that sound fun? heck yeah it does.

1) the entire script of monty python and the holy grail. but particularly:
"old woman..." "MAN" "Sorry..."
"huuuuuuge tracts of land."
"what is your quest?"
"what is your favorite color?"
"what is the airspeed velocity of an unladened swallow?"

2) the title of this post. also from juno: "i'm already pregnant. what other kind of shenanigans can i get into?" and: "it's probably just a food baby. what did you have for lunch?" and: "can't we just, like, kick this old school? Like, I have the baby, put it in a basket and send it your way, like, Moses and the reeds?" and:
"That ain't no etch-a-sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, homeskillet."

all brilliant.

3) because it's my favorite movie: "I won't think about it now. I'll think about it tomorrow because tomorrow is another day." Scarlett. Awesome.

4) "you. complete. me." horrifically corndog, but still, i totally dig it.

5) "She's gone. She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen."
say anything. another brilliant movie.

so what about you? what are your favorite lines?

and.. and.. and....

Happy Birthday, SRG!!!!!

Welcome to 31! so far, so good.

let's plan for drinks super soon. like. friday. or saturday. or tomorrow. you know. whenever.

i'm back! did you miss me?

hi bloggers!

i'm back from my two.. um.. three... um... several weeks hiatus.

a) thank you all for the warm birthday wishes
b) thank you and welcome, meg. we do love our martinis, and we love molly - and anyone who's a friend of molly is a friend of ours.
c) i hate everyone else. except you, you reading this - you're cool. everyone else is on my last nerve.

first off. let me start by recapping what i haven't discussed:
1) i went to nyc last weekend with my friend the buttercup and met up with my friend FP. FP is a fantastic dude whom i love dearly but he is not actually my lover. i bring that up because someone who saw him on my facebook pages got the wrong idea. and i tried to explain to a few people that he wasn't, in fact, my boyfriend, but that just confused things even more. so.

long story short: i am an idiot. who shouldn't be allowed to email people. and one person in particular, whom i dearly wish didn't think i was an idiot. (i'm kind of hoping that person reads this and laughs at me and says "hey - we're cool. you're an idiot, but we're still friends.")

i really need to learn how to not put all of my thoughts out there at one time. i learned a valuable lesson last: you should only record your thoughts to someone once a week. i'm not following this rule at all, but you know. do as i say, not as i do and all.

2) i turned 31. which is cool. i mean. whatever. i'm in my 30s now. not just lingering on the border. i had a little bit of a mental lapse for a couple of weeks there as work and other things came baring down on me with too much everything. and i kind of slipped. mentally. but i'm cool now. nothing like a weekend with friends to recuperate. a weekend with friends and a brief but impactful shopping spree in the city.

3) i have still got it.

i was starting to doubt it, but i went out on saturday night with my friend KC. we went to see Mamma Mia! which - i'm going to be honest and put myself out there -- i freakin' loved that movie. seriously. all the abba and the dancing and the lovely men (James Bond and Mr. Darcy in one movie? seriously? just add kevin smith and it's my ideal man.) and all the meryl streepness of it all. sigh.

then we went out. to a bar. where i had drinks offered to me and overly friendly smiles by very attractive men. generally, i feel skeeved out when i get hit on in bars. i don't like the lines, i don't like the pick-up feel and it's not what i'm there for, so i'm just not into it. however. there's something to be said when it's a nice-looking guy who approaches you all shyly and offers to buy you a drink.

it's then when you think - "screw you, 31. i am a cougar."

C'mon in and make yourself comfortable, SJ... you're going to be here for awhile

Hi SJ, welcome to 31! I got here a few months ago myself, so I’m happy to show you around. Over here is the coffee station—no, don’t protest too quickly now. You might not think you’re going to need it, but it gets harder and harder to get yourself going at our age and someday you might need it just to figure out how to start your car in the morning (uh, or so I’ve heard). And right next to the coffee are plenty of comfortable beds because believe me when I tell you that you’re going to need your sleep to deal with what the thirties have in store for you!

Now, you may have noticed on your way in that 31 is separated from the twenties—it’s a long walk, isn’t it? It’s appropriate, I think, because 31 is pretty removed from, say, 26. You’re now firmly in your thirties, not just teetering somewhere in between at 30.

I’m not going to say you can never go back because every once in a while you might be in the mood for a crazy night out with the girls or some harmless flirting with a cute guy in the elevator or some outfit or hairdo not appropriate for the thirties. In that case, just slip through that door marked “Your Youth” or the one with the sign that says “The Good Ol’ Days (Didn’t Know You Were Old Enough To Have Them, Did You?)” But know that your time over there in the twenties is limited and eventually you must return to 31.

It’s not so bad. Sometimes it gets a little loud in here—what with all the popping of the joints, the moaning in pain when someone pulls a muscle and that annoying tick of the biological clocks. But, overall, 31 is not a bad place to be (at least it’s much quieter than 36, where they have all those noisy kids running around!)

Some other changes you may notice are a few more “laugh lines” (translation: “wrinkles”) and some “slow metabolism” (translation: “Fatty McTooMuchCake”). Oh, and the extra gray hairs (face it, there’s no nice euphemism to use for that one!)

I hope I haven’t scared you too much and you’re willing to stay here with me at 31. There’s fun to be had. For one thing, I finally feel like a grown-up here and sometimes—just sometimes—I get a little more respect than I did at 25. My opinions seem to count much more here, like having gone through 21, 24, 29 and 30 gave me some experience or something.

And, if it begins to weigh on you that you’ve made it this far, feel free to stare over there at that 32 in the corner and smile, knowing that I’ll be headed there first.

Happy Birthday, SJ!

There's just something about how a baby's head smells...

...that makes you want to take it home (um, the baby, not just its head because that's just sick otherwise!) The Pretend Husband and I have been fortunate enough to be able to get together with our photog friend BAC and his wife (duh, her name is Mrs. BAC!) almost on a weekly basis since even before Lil BAC was born almost three months ago. Not that the evenings weren't fun back then (what with all the shushing from the PH and Mrs. BAC as they tried to watch and discuss and analyze "American Idol" while BAC and I mocked them for being older than 30 and still fans of the show), but the evenings have changed since Lil BAC's arrival.

For one thing, she just smells so good. And she really is one of the best babies I've ever met because she so rarely cries. And there's something about watching her discover things for the first time that's just so inspiring. And yes, I realize all babies probably go through that same fun phase of discovery, but their parents aren't allowing us to spend enough time with them to realize that, so I'm going to limit my explanation of why babies are awesome to Lil BAC until we start getting other invites, OK?

So last night, BAC and Mrs. BAC chose to spend their wedding anniversary with lil' ol' us (I know! Either they realize we're turning into crabby hermits who never leave the house after 6 p.m. or perhaps-- just perhaps-- we're fun to be around). But we went over to their house (no regard for their privacy on their anniversary-- that's us!) and I got my fill of Lil BAC (in truth, I don't think I would feel like I got my fill even if I got to see her every night, but I don't want to sound too psycho here in fear of never getting invited back, you know?)

And Lil BAC smiled and looked around and played with her fingers and just sat there smelling good and... and while the PH will tell you spending time with her makes me really want a baby of my own, I'm not sure I'm ready for the 24-hour commitment just yet. In the meantime, I'm appreciative of the friends who let us sniff their daughter's head until it gets weird or until it turns 10 o'clock, whichever comes first.

Shocking revelations from KAT

When I worked as a newspaper reporter a couple of years ago, I stayed busy. Sure, SJ and I somehow found time for occasional pen fights in the newsroom, but I was pretty much always doing something: running to court, talking to cops, covering a fire, writing an article. Busy, busy, busy.

Then I got the job as an editor and eeeeeeeeeek! That was the sound of my work life screetching to a halt. Yes, I had to get my act together once a month and work my butt off to get the papers laid out in a short amount of time. But the rest of the time? Well, let's just say that I had plenty of time to design my wedding invitations, comment on people's blogs and bug my friends with frequent emails. Dudes, I was LAZY. I did what I had to do, but nothing more.

Well, that's changed with the new job. I was worried that I wasn't only lazy at my last job, but had become lazy in general. But after the past few weeks at the new job, I know that I am definitely not lazy. I'm a hard worker. This job has proven it because it's eight straight hours (and sometimes even more than that) of working my little buttinsky off. And you know what? I LOVE IT. I love being busy, I love being able to say I'm a member of a freakin' press corps and I love knowing what I write is being aired on radio stations around the country.

And while the paycheck isn't as much as I would prefer (I'll take six figures, please...) there's something to be said for loving what you do. Oh, and not being made fun of constantly by your friends for only working four hours a day and having time to do all that other stuff I mentioned. That more than makes up for the paycheck not having as many zeros as I'd like.

That silence you hear is my lack of teeth-grinding...

It's only in retrospect that I realize how much of the past year has been filled with wedding preparations, a job that sucked my energy when I was working on deadline, no free weekends because of the part-time gig at the radio station and general worries about the dogs, our house(s) and whatever else life threw our way. We survived with no permanent scars, but man, was life busy.

Which is why I'm looking forward to the next three days with so much glee. Without too much planning on our part, the Pretend Husband and I seem to have fallen into the perfect vacation. Tomorrow, we'll pack up Molly and Casey, more food than an army could consume in a three-day period and our bathing suits and head for my family's cottage. No Internet connections, only fuzzy cell phone signals and a lack of a television... I know I'm getting old because it sounds like the perfect weekend to me.

For the first time in more than a year (with only a handful of exceptions for things like, oh, getting married), I won't be getting up at 4 a.m. on Saturday. I won't be forced to check my work email. I won't be working on any sort of deadline.

What I will be doing is laying in the sun, reading some good books, playing with the dogs, playing with the PH (wink, wink), hanging out with friends and family, probably eating too much and just enjoying life.

And, I wish all that for you too. Happy Fourth of July, my friends! Enjoy.

i'm not here, so please leave a message.

and by "i'm not here" i mean, my mind. i've lost it completely (but i'm not the only one, as you'll read from the story below). it's a short week for me at work, but that makes no difference because apparently all it means is that i have to squeeze five days of work into 3.5 and it sucks.

whatever.

anyway- i have very little to report because a) i have no mind, as i've mentioned and b) i haven't spent any time with my family since sunday when i had my parents over for dinner and that was surprisingly uneventful. even a brief trip into the city last week left me nothing of note to discuss.

i can tell you that i had an extraordinarily difficult time trying to mail a card to a friend in Canada. the below is an exchange between me and a post office worker.

me: "excuse me, can you tell me what the postage is for sending this letter (hold up letter) to Newfoundland in Canada?"

postal man: "uh. where's that?"

me: "it's an atlantic province of Canada."

postal man: "is it in nova scotia?"

me: "nope, it's its own province. like nova scotia. but not nova scotia."

postal man: "oh. well it's kind of a strange shape. what's in it?"

me: "yes, i know it is. that's why i'm asking. it's a letter."

postal man: "but what's in it?"

me: "it's just a letter. with. you know. thoughts. that kind of thing."

postal man: "why is it shaped like that?"

me: -- exasperated at this point -- "it's the stationary. can you just tell me how many of these (hold up forever stamps with bell insignia) stamps i need to use in order to successfully mail it?"

postal man: "uh. i'm not sure you can use those."

me: "why not?"

postal man: "well, maybe you can."

me: in my most polite voice - "can i speak to your supervisor?"