Bright Lights, Big Kidder

Twi-not to be mad at me...

2010-10-12T16:58:00.001-04:00

...for the unfortunate play on words in that title, as well as for the confession I'm about to make.

I jumped on the Twilight Saga bandwagon about a year ago.

I know!! I'm sorry! Please don't revoke my library card! Hear me out, though; I had an excellent reason. A reason that has since evolved into a mission. And, really, what's more fun than a blogger with a personal agenda?

J's sister is 13. That's 8th grade, for those of you without younger cousins, nieces, nephews, neighbors or kids of your own. She's the youngest in their family, and has three older brothers... so naturally, she and I talk girl stuff all.the.time. We have similar taste in colors (mainly reds, pinks and purples), in music (though my interest in Joe Jonas trends slightly less PG than hers) and in responsibility (school/work = BOO; weekends/breaks = YAY).

It was bound to happen, then: a Sunday afternoon curled up on the couch with snacks to watch the Twilight movie.

Let me go on record right now as saying that I can get behind the story one hundred percent. The story is interesting enough; vampires, werewolves, blah blah blah. The story is not where I take offense.

HOWEVER. What about this "saga" does offend me?

Hm. Would you like it in alphabetical order?

First, let's talk about Stephenie Meyer's writing. Or, rather, her "writing," since she has yet to master the art of "showing, not telling." I accept that these are intended for the tween set, and so the vocabulary and exposition are more limited than in works intended for older audiences, or in the literary classics. Let's just get the obvious comparison out of the way right now: JK Rowling didn't seem to have a problem creating elaborate imagery with her words (and there were seven books in her series, Steph). Yes, Rowling created quite a bit of her own language, but... it worked.

Meyer's drivel reads like she spent $125 on a creative writing weekend seminar at the airport Marriott. I bet she has a "Hang in There, Baby" kitten poster over her desk and gives it a thumbs-up every time she finishes a chapter.

And Stephen King agrees with me. Rachel 1, Stephenie Meyer 0.

Having gritted my teeth through the thousand-plus pages of the first two novels, I felt like I had committed to the series, so I started in on Eclipse, the third installment.

And I can't finish it. I tried -- DEAR GOD, I tried -- but I cannot do it. It ends here.

I've mentioned more than once that I am the product of an all-girls high school education, and the experience was so powerful and influential that when I was offered the chance to recruit for my alma mater, I pounced on it. (Being the director of a department at the ripe old age of 24 is not a bad gig.)

Let me be clear: I don't hate guys. Quite the opposite, really. I respect and admire many men, and by now everyone knows the extent of my feelings for J. It is absolutely possible to be an independent, confident woman and still enjoy the company and friendship of men.

Imagine my... distaste, then, for a female protagonist in constant deference to every male influence she encounters.

There is nothing wrong with a daughter helping out around the house. Bella, however, cooks and cleans for her dad as if he is an inept fool in all matters domestic. Charlie Swan managed to feed and clothe himself just fine without his daughter's help for more than a decade, and yet from the moment she moves in, she assumes all the "womanly" chores in the household.

Bella's best friend, Jacob Black, is moody -- even by teenage standards. Granted, dude's going through some pretty serious stuff (come on, we all saw Teen Wolf), but he puts Bella through an emotional wringer with behavior so passive-aggressive it would make politicians cringe.

Worst of all is her relationship with Edward Cullen. Meyer has shaped Bella into the quintessential damsel in distress: she clings to Edward for instruction, approval, guidance, protection... and it makes me gag.

Example: New Moon begins with a "breakup" of sorts. Believing that Bella is in danger around him and that the only way to protect her is to leave, Edward disappears from her life, saying it's for her own good. She takes the news pretty hard, which makes sense (she's 17, after all; it's called a "crush" for a reason). She finds, though, that she can conjure him in her head by making rash, dangerous decisions (motorbike racing, cliff diving), and sets on a path of self-destruction fueled by teenage lust. (Or "lust," rather, since Meyer's Mormon beliefs dictate supreme chastity.)

Bella lets Edward dictate her comings and goings (thanks for the curfew, Dad), her friends, her studies, her interests.

And thanks to the series' ridiculous popularity, a generation of girls is going into their adolescence and adulthood thinking that this is an acceptable example of a healthy relationship.

It infuriates me.

Meyer has defended this construct as simply the portrayal of Bella's choices. I don't buy it. Bella! Sweetie! Take a women's studies class, for crap's sake!

So when Eclipse premiered in theaters a week before my birthday this summer, J's sister was all up in my Facebook, excitedly inviting me to see it with her. I accepted, naturally. I mean, duh, she's fun! But more than that, I saw it for what it was: a tremendous opportunity to have an influence, to be a positive female role model like the ones I had (still have -- thanks Mom!).

Thank God for movie theaters. When I couldn't keep my eye-rolling contained, at least it was under cover of darkness where J's sister wouldn't see me. I got my fill of Taylor Lautner (I mean, I'm not made of stone here, people), she got her Cullen family fix...

...and we left the theater with tons to talk about.

Hm.

Fine.

Rachel 1, Stephenie Meyer 1.*

*...but I'll be damned if I'm going to buy the fourth book. Suck it, Meyer!

Getting invited to the cool kids' table ROCKS.

2010-10-12T10:11:00.003-04:00

Yep; we did one of these not long ago (okay, like two weeks), but they're kind of fun, they help me get back into the bloggin' mood, and they're good for filler posts. The lovely Christina over at South to Southwest tagged me in her list, and it's just bad manners not to respond when you're asked a question... so here goes!

1. What's on your Christmas wish-list?

From a sensible standpoint, gifts of a monetary nature are always welcome. The plan is to start back to school in January, so a little boost to the checking account couldn't hurt! But since this is Christmas we're talkin' about, and the idea is to wish for things we wouldn't ordinarily get for ourselves... I'd like sessions with a personal trainer, some fancy expensive shoes, and jewelry. Who says no to that!?

2. Do you have any tattoos?

I do! Two, in fact. The first is a starfish on my hip. My sister and I planned forever to get it right... we knew we wanted matching ones for our first foray into getting inked! They are mirror images; mine is on my left hip, hers is on the right. We picked a starfish because we knew we wanted something aquatic and something with a good story behind it. Anthropologist & philosopher Loren Eiseley published a 16-page essay titled The Star Thrower in 1969, which has been adapted by motivational speakers into a "call to action" fable. It goes something like this:

An old man is walking the beach one morning and sees a young boy off in the distance, dancing along the water's edge. As he draws nearer, he sees that the boy is not dancing, but instead is repeatedly bending over, picking things up one at a time, and then throwing them into the ocean. Confused, the man asks the boy what he's doing.
"Throwing starfish into the ocean," the boy says. "The tide's going out and if these starfish are stranded on the beach, they'll die."
"But there are hundreds of them!" the man protests. "And the tide is going out so quickly! How can you possibly make a difference?"
The boy thinks quietly for a moment, then bends, picks up another starfish, and flings it into the water.
"I made a difference to that one."

It's my permanent reminder of the power of one.

The other tattoo is a seahorse, along my rib cage on my right side. Pirates and sailors believed seahorses were symbols of protection; they are also symbolic of grace and persistence under pressure or change. I got it Labor Day Weekend of 2008, in keeping with my aquatic theme. As it turned out, though, 2008 was a pretty rocky year: I turned 30, lost a beloved grandparent, and called off my wedding all in the time between Father's Day and Thanksgiving. I like to think there was some divine intervention at work when I decided on the seahorse; I didn't know it at the time, but I was going to need that protection, grace and persistence like never before.

3. What's your favorite book?
This may be one of the hardest questions for me to answer. My response is different almost every time, depending on how I'm feeling that day. I read just about everything, so it's hard to select just one favorite across genres, but these two always leap to the forefront.

Such a Pretty Fat, by Jen Lancaster. A memoir that delves into chick-lit territory, this is actually her third book. I'd recommend her entire oeuvre (and for God's sake, go read her blog), but this is the one that I found first and can relate to most, so it's at the top of my list.

A Separate Peace, by John Knowles. It's on almost every high school required reading list for a reason: it's a damn good story.

4. What's your worst habit?

Oh man; I could write a book. Actually, that's it. I could write a book; that is, if I could break myself of the tendency to procrastinate. The lag in my posts here is all the proof you need!

5. If you could live anywhere, where would you move to?

Right now, I'm pretty happy as-is. I moved to the 'bus last winter (...my goodness, almost a year already?) and I am not relishing the thought of another move any time soon. I love central Ohio; it's got everything I could want or need. We have four seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Road Construction. We have big city excitement and a small-town sense of community. We have world-class dining and shopping (seriously; the world HQ for the entire Limited Brands roster is 15 miles from my apartment).

I love the Carolinas, though. That's where my favorite vacations have been and where I want to take my own children someday... that's where my heart would move me.

6. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Run-ins with famous people?? Now you're speakin' my language, sister!! I saw Neil Diamond in the Nashville airport once; I waited for an autograph (and got one) after a Chris Isaak show; most recently, I was onsite for the taping of an episode of Food Feuds with Iron Chef Michael Symon (look for me in the crowd on the SkyWay/Swenson's burger battle episode, set to air on Thanksgiving night!).

But the most awesome encounter with celebrity was in 1999: I was home for the summer before the start of my senior year at Miami, and... you know what? Words don't do it justice. I'll dig up the picture and post it here; it's totally worth the wait.

7. What is your guilty pleasure food?

YES. Kidding! (Sort of.) I like to try new things whenever I can, but if it's comfort and familiarity I'm looking for, it's this:


Fritos plus Lawson's Chip Dip = best salty fattening snack EVER.

It has to be Lawson's. Northeast Ohio kids will totally back me up on this.

8. What is your all time favorite picture of you?

I love this picture. I am having a fabulous hair night, my smile is killer... oh, and the guy is pretty much the love of my life, so that one more for the "pro" column.

So there we have it. Fun stuff!

Don't worry: we'll get back to "real" posts ASAP. I have a bunch of ideas already in the works....

Cheater cheater, candy corn eater.*

2010-09-23T23:15:00.002-04:00

Phew. This return to blogging is going to take some adjustment. I swear I have a ton of fun (read: snarky) things to tell you! I just picked a busy couple days to pick up where I left off.

Luckily, the ever-funny Kelly over at Dare to be Domestic created a post not long ago playing the popular "get to know ya" questions game. Ta-daaaa! Daily entry saved! Have at it.

1. What is your lucky number?

I'm goin' with 7. Sure, lots of people claim 7 as their lucky number, but my birthday is July 7th... um, hello? 7/7, I win!

2. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Wow. I wasn't aware that I'd be turning my blog into a job interview today. Sneaky!

...ah, what the hell. I can use the practice.

*ahem*

Given the current state of the U.S. economy, I believe it's difficult, if not impossible, to look ahead more than 18 months. I'd like to spend the next year and a half exploring the ways I can contribute to this ~~company~~ blog, using the time to grow my plans along with ~~our~~ its success.

Psshhhh. Hey suckers: I was a public relations major for a reason, baby! There's plenty more where that came from! (Tuition dollars at work, darlings. Also? If you thought that was good, then you DEFINITELY need to read Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster.)

3. What is your favorite song of all time?

Ooooh. Of all time? This one's tough. I don't know that I have a favorite favorite! Don't make me pick! It's like Sophie's Choice up in here, except with music so it's for serious. Can I go top three?

Wait. Why am I asking? It's my blog; I don't need permission!

"Falling for the First Time" by Barenaked Ladies. BNL has been my favorite band for more than a decade, and this song just feels exactly like love!

"Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley. Breaks my heart, and yet makes me so happy, both at the same time. Just a beautiful, bittersweet ache of a song.

"Not Ready to Make Nice" by the Dixie Chicks. Political overtones aside, Natalie Maines is one ballsy chick. I want her on my side.

4. Do you love football? Who's your team?

I... don't love football. And given that J had a football scholarship to college, and that we live in Columbus, Ohio, home of the currently-ranked #2 team... well, let's just say that it's a damn good thing I love fall as much as I do, because otherwise? It'd be a long, long season.

5. What's your most cherished item?

I thought of a few that could fit the bill here, and they were all photos. What does that tell us!? The best one, though, is the picture of J and me that my friend A snapped on a whim. You can see it here. I love it because it's just so... us. Neither of us is wearing the "camera-ready smile" or sucking in our stomachs or saying cheeeeeeeeeeeese; we're just happy and totally in the moment together.

6. If you had 24 hours to live, how would you spend them?

I'd want a fantastic meal; tremendous, earth-shattering, soul-shaking sex; and the chance to say goodbye to my most cherished people. Not necessarily in that order.

7. Were you named after anyone?

Nope. Well, not anyone we know and/or are related to. But I spell my name the same way as the biblical Rachel (total trump card if I ever get to meet Rachael Ray)! And my middle name is Leigh... which I choose to trace back to Vivien Leigh... and God knows she and I both have the flair for the melodrama... so I'm going to count it.

I feel fairly certain that, had Scarlett had a Sassy Gay Friend, the curtain-dress could have been avoided.

8. What is your can't live without beauty product?

Oh my God. Easiest question ever. I'm a sucker for a gimmick anyway, but this L'Oreal Go 360 face wash? IS FREAKING GENIUS!! Pop the little scrubby out, splash splash, scrub scrub, mmmm smells gooooood, stash it back in the handy little holding place, see ya in 16 hours scrubby!!

So there we are. Stay tuned for tomorrow's entry, in which our heroine takes on a pop culture phenomenon and totally blows your mind!

*Today's evidence of being rad: there is candy corn in the house once again (yay fall!); I told J he was eating it wrong... and then demonstrated how to make a grill out of the yellow ends. Sadly, I ate the masterpiece before it could be captured on film.

When last we met our heroine...

2010-09-22T17:27:00.001-04:00

"Welcome back from obscurity, Rach!"

"Why, thank you, Rach."

"So... been a while, huh? What's been going on in your fabulous life?"

"Oh, man. Where to begin?..."

It was never my intention to abandon the blog. I just... got busy, is all.

*snort*

Fine, yeah, in that way, but also in the general sense that life and family and work and all those other important things started demanding more of my time and attention, and my writing took kind of a backseat. I've been dabbling here and there (like the fiction I write every month when I pay bills, HEY-OHHHH!!), but simply haven't had the time for a dedicated daily post.

To quote an obscure bit from an old Sinbad stand-up routine: "some things got to CHANGE around here!!"

"I can't wait to meet him! I hope he's wearing something made out of windbreaker!"

Charlie Kelly (Charlie Day), It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia,
"Dennis Reynolds: An Erotic Life"

There have been a ton of highlights in the last six months! There's been a low point or two, to be fair, but on the whole it's been a terrific year and I'm looking forward to recapping it here for posterity. I'll cover the important stuff in bits and pieces in future posts.

FIrst things first, though: I've decided to come back to the writing to help keep my sanity intact, to stay in practice... and to keep sharp the skills I'm going to need in my next big adventure! A busy six months in the totally unglamorous world of higher education has led me to a pretty big self-discovery.

Y'all, I finally know what I want to be when I grow up!

I've decided to go back to school to get my teaching license for middle school language arts.

I love academic advising. Telling people what to do? Huh; let me think ab- OKAY YES I CAN DO THAT. However, after three different roles at as many universities, I can safely say that a career at the university level is not for me. I loved college, as many of us did, for the experience that it was: learning, sure, but also the 1 a.m. mud-sliding on the quad, the genesis of many a TV-and-takeout tradition and the silly Sunday morning "reconstruction" conversations that helped us figure out just what we had done the night before...

...and that's why I can't work in the field. I loved my Miami days so much! The very last thing I want is for those memories to become overshadowed by administrative red tape and interoffice politics.

More to the point, though: I love the English language. Sure, I take some liberties with it here and there when it’s acceptable –- Facebook status updates are so much easier to type in all lowercase –- but I cannot abide the pandemic abuse of grammar, spelling, pronunciation and structure.

It murders my soul, people.

And that brings me to today's guilty pleasure -- it is Wednesday, after all!

For a while now, I've been posting pictures of egregious, public mistakes in a Facebook photo album, complete with snarky commentary. It's been a hit with my friends and even has led one of them to brand me as her Grammar Girl (a responsibility I do not take lightly). I've resorted to carrying a red Sharpie in my purse: woe to the person careless with his syntax!

I will cut you.

The other thing I'm going to relish about teaching? Sure, I get to tell people what to do for a living now, but just imagine the power I'll be able to wield once I've got a classroom full of little monsters!

Yep. Me and Lady Gaga: we've got big plans for the future of America's youth.

The wearin' o' the green!

2010-03-17T11:23:00.045-04:00

Top o' the marrrrnin' to ye, kids!

How lovely and convenient that St. Patrick's Day falls on a Wednesday... perfect timing for some guilty pleasures, eh?

Green Beer Day is right up there with my all-time favorite and most shameless indulgences! I still have the t-shirts from my four years of participation... and I'm seriously considering the J.Brew one as an "alumni contribution" to one of Oxford's grandest traditions. Mock our popped collars, our North Face jackets and our SUVs all you want; our nickname's famous and we're not mad about it.

The word shenanigans is another good one. It's one of my favorite words and today is a perfect day to use it with abandon! Surprisingly, the origin of the word is uncertain; it may be related to the Irish sionnach ("fox") but it's also been tied to German and even Spanish roots.

Whatever. The source doesn't much matter to me; what's really important is that when J and I use it, it means something fun and funny and possibly a tiny bit irresponsible is afoot!

Plus it's in one of the funniest bits of movie dialogue ever:

"I swear to God I'm going to pistol whip the next guy who says shenanigans."
"Hey Farva - what's the name of that restaurant you like with all the goofy shit on the walls and the mozzarella sticks?"
"You mean Shenanigans?"
"Oooooooooooh...!!"

- Captain O'Hagan, Mac, Farva & Thorny (Brian Cox, Steve Lemme, Kevin Heffernan & Jay Chandrasekhar), Super Troopers

Today's greatest guilty pleasure, however, may well be this beloved cult classic:

Behold: the elusive SHAMROCK SHAKE!

What is it about this beverage/dessert/frosty nirvana that makes it so irresistible?

Is it the hint o' mint flavor? The awesome color? The fact that it's only available for a few short weeks and only "at participating locations?" All of the above?! Hard to say... all I know is that I have about twelve hours left to get me some!

Happy St. Patty's to all of you!

An open letter

2010-03-16T15:06:00.063-04:00

Dear white collar workers of America (more specifically, of my office),

We're not here to make new BFFs. It certainly helps that we all get along, of course: after the Mean Girls-esque office I just left, I'm telling you God's honest truth when I say that I appreciate your humor and good nature more than the average bear.

We don't all have to be sleepover friends who will braid each other's hair and stay up late prank-calling the boys we like. We do, however, need to respect each other's space, and that's what drives me to write this letter.

I'm glad you feel you can come in to visit while you're on maternity leave. Who doesn't love to see a brand new little munchkin (if only to renew her gratitude for her currently child-free lifestyle)? You look fabulous, by the way, and who wouldn't? Three months away from the office would do anyone a bit of good.

A lot has changed in your absence; most notably, the renovations are complete and we've moved into our new space, affectionately known as the cube farm. Bear in mind, please, that although our new walls stop about four feet short of the ceiling, our cubicles are still our offices. And while you are on a break from your responsibilities here, the rest of us are not... plus, some of us are picking up your slack.

When you gather with a group at my cube wall for a loud, lengthy conversation about the baby's sleeping habits and eating habits and how your husband tries God bless him ha ha ha, you are not magically made invisible by the metal and plywood between us. You are less than three feet away from me; I can see you, and moreover, I can hear you, and so can the person on my phone who actually stopped midsentence to ask "...is that a baby crying? Where are you?"

The bottom line is that while your little guy is certainly darling and yes, you are fortunate to have a healthy, happy child... not everyone is as fascinated by him as you are. Congratulations again on the baby; now please go home and enjoy the rest of your leave.

Sincerely,

Rach

An aside to any potentially offended readers: yes, I know that maternity leave is not "vacation." Being a mom is a bigger job than anything I'm doing here, and can be more thankless as well... but if your home is your office, you don't see me bringing files into the baby's nursery to return phone calls and hold open office hours...

The proverbial other shoe

2010-03-15T21:11:00.004-04:00

Look at me, all over the shoe theme!

Today's post: the exciting (?) conclusion of my list of 25 Things You Must Commit To Memory.

14. I will not work on my birthday. Ever. I think I got used to having the day off for it when I was in school, and then when my career took me back into education, it just stuck. I started my new job a couple months ago and one of the first things I did was to stake out that day on the vacation calendar.

15. I. Love. Sandwiches.

"What is Joey's favorite food?"

"Sandwiches!"

Ross & Monica (David Schwimmer & Courteney Cox), Friends, "The One with the Embryos"

I love 'em. A BLT is damn near a perfect food. My panini press is my favorite kitchen appliance. I'm also a big fan of creating my own combos. Creamy peanut butter pairs surprisingly well with some weird stuff... crisp dill pickle chips; salty, smoky crumbled bacon; extra sharp cheddar cheese. Yeah, I know: it sounds gross and makes you wonder if I'm pregnant, but it's not and I'm not!

16. Speaking of NOT KNOCKED UP I SWEAR, I don't have the baby fever just yet, buuuuuuut... I'm fairly certain I'm going to be a kickass mom. I'm one of those people who genuinely enjoys being around her family and I'm excited to pass that along. The best part (J please stop reading for a sec) is that J is the same way; his two brothers are his best friends and all three of them are fiercely protective of their little sister... so it's like I already know he'd be good at it too. (OK J, safe to start reading again. Thanks love!)

17. The reason I don't have the baby fever is that I enjoy being the combination superhero/bad influence far too much for now! Exhibit A: I may or may not have bought a drum set for a five year-old once. Just saying.

They were Spider-Man drums, which made them even MORE badass.

If a five year-old could say badass without getting scolded.

18. I read a lot. A LOT. At last count I had more than 175 books. (It was super fun to move them to the new place.) I dated a guy in college who finally stopped going to bookstores with me because "we walk in and [my] eyes glaze over and [I] stop paying attention to [him]." My shelves hold classics, chick lit, historical fiction, memoirs... the occasional guide to "bettering yourself"... and they're all embossed with my "from the library of" seal.

19. Speaking of that name embosser: I love my middle name. I am very particular about how it's spelled; my way is lovely and classic and the other is not. Get it right.

20. I almost got married once. Like, "two weeks to the Big Day" almost. Not going through with it was, at once, the scariest and bravest decision I've had to make in my entire life. He's a good guy... just not the good guy for me.

21. That little factoid is what I meant when I wrote in the first half of this list that it's nice to start fresh. Yes, it was a big deal once upon a time, but now it's just something that happened.

22. Runaway Bride is one of my all-time favorite movies. *SIGH* OK, peanut gallery, knock yourselves out.

23. I went to an all-girls high school. AND I LOVED IT. We made t-shirts that said "Panther Football: Undefeated Since 1923!!" We didn't bother with daily make-up and ponytails were the de facto hairstyle. More than that, though, we were immersed in an environment where women held the leadership roles. We could ask questions without worrying what some boy would think; we were encouraged to push ourselves and stretch past the status quo. When I got to college, not only was I incredibly well-prepared for the academics, but also, I realized that I was equipped to hold my own in any social setting... which is more than I could say for some girls, used to deferring to guys. I know the Elms is largely responsible for my savage independent streak!

24. Sure, it was all girls during the school day... but that didn't stop me from going to four different senior proms, at four different schools, with four different dates. HEY-OHHHH!

25. Live theater brings me to tears every time. I've seen The Phantom of the Opera, RENT, Wicked, Les Miserables, The Lion King, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat... and the list of shows to see is growing as quickly as I can cross them off!

Phew. So there you have it. Hope you enjoyed Volume Two!

Open season!

2010-03-12T15:19:00.000-05:00

A quick one to kick off the weekend right:

My toes are out today! Open toe shoe weather has finally arrived!

Yeah, I know this is a repeat pic, but it's hard to be a bitch when your feet look this cute. Have a good one kids!

"Huh. Surprised you didn't know that."*

2010-03-11T15:14:00.174-05:00

If you've got a Facebook page or a MySpace account, you've encountered the meme floating out there on the interwebs that asks you to catalog 25 things about yourself that people may not know. I wasn't going to resort to this, but I see that a few other bloggers have already done it, so I figured eh... what the hell. Problem is, I'm a) a little strapped for time, 2) wary of boring the handful of readers I have and d) lazy,** so I'm only going to list half of them today.

Without further ado... all kinds of crap about me!

1. I am totally a city girl. I love the charm of small towns; I went to college in one and I can't imagine having had it any other way... but I love the bustle and noise and crowds of a big city. It's what keeps me from getting too homesick, now that I live in my fair state's capital. I love driving out of the city, seeing the skyline in my rearview mirror and being able to pick out the individual buildings.

2. As much as I love the 'bus, though, I love my 'Rowdy hometown. No, I mean, I love it. It is frequently misrepresented and misunderstood, but then again, most great things are. You just need the right tour guide to get a true sense of the place. Are you a Cleveland Cavs fan... or a basketball fan in general... or alive at all? You may have heard of a guy named LeBron James. Yeah: dude went to high school four miles down the street from me. Are those Goodyear tires on your car? Hello, WORLD HEADQUARTERS. It was a terrific place to grow up and I'm proud to come from there.

3. One of the most refreshing things about moving here has been the fact that I'm starting with a clean slate. I have friends here, and of course J's here, but other than that, very few people know my backstory... with the result that I have the remarkable opportunity to start fresh in my 30s.

4. J and I have known each other for just about our entire lives. His mom's family lived down the street from my dad's family when they were little; his dad and my uncle have been BFFs since grade school. It took us three decades to get together as a couple, though, and it was 100% worth the wait. On our first date, we were all chatty and catch-uppy, and when I got up to go to the ladies' room, the bartender smiled at J and said "so, second date's going well, huh?" So cute.

5. My sister and I are incapable of having a conversation without using lines of movie dialogue. It's a sickness, really, but it's hilarious.

6. Speaking of her, I just recently (like, this week), admitted that I'm getting old, when I made a couple references to some old cartoons and she had no memory of them whatsoever. I mean, sure, it was old when I saw it for the first time, but GOD, please tell me someone else out there has seen and/or remembers this!

7. And speaking of old, I'm also the oldest grandchild on both sides of our family. I got to do everything first until I was 24, when one of the cousins got married. Others soon followed suit, and now I love that I'm one of the last holdouts!

8. Red is my favorite color to wear. I think it's partially due to my loyalty to Miami, but it's also because it takes balls to wear and the effect on people is terrific. It could be a dress, shoes, lipstick... people want to be around a woman in red.

9. I want Rachel McAdams to play me in the movie about my life. She's got the name thing down and she. Is. Darling.

Cute much?!

10. Given that I've worked for three universities, and that I've enjoyed those three jobs more than anything else I've done with my career, I have no choice but to concede to my mom's long-held opinion that I'm an educator at heart and I belong in this field. I'm not about to make crazy money, but I need a cause, not just a job.

11. One of my favorite things to do with J and our friends is game night. Apples to Apples, UNO, The Game of Things, whatever... it's like being a kid, but with beer this time!

12. I have a ridiculous gift for remembering names. It was a huge advantage when I was a recruiter; I'd meet a student once and then be able to address them by name four months later. It got to be a running joke in the office and my colleagues started calling me Rain Man (except, you know, in a nice way).

13. I love dogs, and cats are a close second, but the way I see it? If I'm going to put that kind of time and energy and attention and cash into another living creature, it's going to be a kid. It's one of the first things J and I agreed on: we like impromptu happy hour and sleeping in wayyyyyyy more than we like picking up poop that's not our own.

That's enough for now! A future post will have the other half of the list.

*Tommy Callahan (Chris Farley), Tommy Boy
**"A..., 2..., and D..." is from Home Alone***

***See?!

A fond farewell to one of Hollywood's true Lost Boys

2010-03-10T16:20:00.001-05:00

Corey Haim, we hardly knew ye.

It's old news by now, but no less sad: the cuter of The Two Coreys was pronounced dead early this morning of a suspected overdose. Whether it was accidental or intentional remains to be seen, but either way... wow. Senseless and totally preventable.

Celebrity gossip is one of my biggest guilty pleasures, particularly when it's in the form of best- and worst-dressed lists and highlights from awards show red carpets. It's also useful as a quick pick-me-up when I'm feeling sorry for myself. At least I can wear false eyelashes without looking like a drag queen!

It can be a bummer, though, when it turns ugly and transforms a human being into a walking punchline, as this journalist notes.

My middle school crush on the Coreys was over almost as soon as it began, a supernova of hormones, exclamation "perfume" and Teen Beat magazine covers. Every now and then, though, it's refreshing to remember a time when my most urgent conflict in life focused on finding room for the new posters without having to rearrange the old ones.

Happy Wednesday, gang! Halfway to the weekend!

mmm, smells like 7th grade!

P.S. All you '80s kids out there might be interested in this Top Five List. FYI: you're going to have to fight me for Target's last copy of License to Drive.

P.P.S. These things happen in threes, right? First Boner from Growing Pains, now half of the Coreys... my money's on Gary Coleman for the trifecta.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

2010-03-09T14:24:00.081-05:00

I left my coat at home for the first time today! And drove with the windows down!

It can only mean one thing: spring is really here. Sure, Ohio's been known to get a snowstorm in April, so we're not totally out of the woods yet, but it's hard to care when the clock-thermometer at the bank says 60 degrees in March.

I love the sunshine, the smell in the air, the buds on the trees and flowers... but what I love most is that spring kicks off my absolute favorite season.

It's Festival Season, kids!

One of the stereotypes of Midwestern living is that we'll celebrate anything with a festival. My hometown and the surrounding area alone are host to a ton of fun weekends, with "guests of honor" that include (but of course, are not limited to):

Cherry Blossoms

Kite and Flight

Hamburgers (Akron ~~claims to be~~ is the birthplace of the burger!)

...and of course, the rib burn-offs and ethnic festivals that almost every city hosts. Watch the Irish dance troupes one weekend, scarf up homemade cannoli the next, take a week off and then come back to mariachi bands and taco trucks!

And oh, God, the people-watching. Unbelievable. These celebrations are the great equalizer of humanity. Where on earth are you going to a toothless trailer park family rubbing elbows with a Fortune 500 exec? In the line for a funnel cake, that's where.

My new town played host to the annual spectacle that is The Arnold Sports Festival this past weekend. It's the largest annual multi-sport event nationwide, and MAN, is it gross. Congratulations to the winners... now please go away.

Start planning your summers!

"Congratulations, Universe: you win."*

2010-03-08T20:08:00.073-05:00

I was thinking about the blog this weekend, and it occurred to me that I may come across as a bit of a complainer from time to time, and that is really not the intention. It's kind of the opposite, actually. I love my life and I love my 30s and I'm happy and lucky to be here and not dead or institutionalized or in jail after some of the crazy shit I pulled in my 20s.

BUT.

Sometimes, the Universe leaves me no choice but to add to the List.

You know which list I'm talking about.

Everyone has one. People who say otherwise are just big fat lying liars who lie. I'm talking about the running tally you keep in your head of the people, places, things and circumstances that just drive you right over the edge.

Nervous Nelly snow drivers, for one (except you Deena, hugs & kisses!). Movie talkers, for another. And these two winners from the weekend... read on:

1. Random girl in a tube top in March: Sweetie: no. I know it's sunny out. We're all happy to see some sunshine after what feels like forever in the gray gloom of a Midwest winter. It is still entirely too early in the season for your sartorial choice. I almost had to commit my own fashion faux pas of sunglasses indoors to protect my corneas from the glare off your pasty shoulders.

There are two types of people who wear their sunglasses indoors: blind people and a-holes. Which are you?

Play nice and cover those up until April, please. Or, if you must leave the house like that, allow me to introduce you to my friend self-tanner (although you may want to avoid the Corey Hart Oompa Loompa look, above).

2. Jay-rusalem & Silent Bible: Ladies, I can appreciate that you're into your church. Fine. Good for you. If you catch me in the right mood and environment, sure, I'll talk faith with you. The shoe department at Target? Is not the right environment. If you're speaking to me here, it better be to compliment my taste in footwear. Otherwise: pipe down.

And the Lord saw the woman's choice of shoes, and He was pleased.

Hrmph.

Tomorrow: less snark, more sass. There is too a difference!

*Jim Halpert (John Krasinski), The Office, "The Return" (Season 3, Episode 13)

You can take the girl out of Catholic school...

2010-03-05T15:26:00.076-05:00

Heh. Bet that got your attention.

Here's the thing: I love to bake. What's not to love, really? It's soothing and gratifying and makes the house smell great, and you can eat it.

The problem is that I'm not that big into eating the results. I don't really have a sweet tooth; a pint of Ben & Jerry's will last me a month. (Salt is another story.) And with baking, you can't ever make just one cupcake or cookie or brownie... you end up with a whole mess of them. Given that one of my posts last week was all about healthy eating, I should probably practice what I preach.

But the lure of those cutie pie Cookie Monster cupcakes from earlier in the week was just too much to resist!

So I did a little research and found an outlet for my Betty Crocker urges. The Catholic parish I belong to here in the 'bus hosts Friday night fish fry dinners during Lent, and they're always looking for donations in the form of dessert.

ENTER RACHEL! Check me out:

They don't look exactly like the other pic (that's right: they're cuter) but I was still pretty satisfied with how they turned out. J wasn't complaining, that's for damn sure! My sister Erin even said "ugh, you kind of make me want to barf, in a good way." I could have stopped there, but I was on a roll, and I upped the ante with a batch of red velvet cupcakes too.

I drove extra carefully on the way to work this morning, so as not to disturb the trays of sugar shock in my backseat, planning on a lunch hour delivery.

And I made it all the way to the church parking lot before it happened.

I didn't see the pothole, and I took the turn a little too fast, and my little tank came to a stop faster than I intended... and a dozen cupcakes ended up on my car floor. Frosting side down, natch. I heard the smush before I saw the damage, and I shouted - no, I shrieked:

Ohhhhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge.

Only I didn't say fudge. I said the word, the big one, the queen mother of dirty words, the f-dash-dash-dash word.*

And that is precisely when I realized that the church shares its parking lot with the parish school, and that it was noon recess, and that approximately ninety grade school kids were outside romping around in the sunshine.

Boy, nothing brings a game of Red Rover to a halt like a woman yelling obscenities.

*Ralphie (Peter Billingsley), A Christmas Story

In like...

2010-03-04T19:02:00.000-05:00

...this kid:

Aw!

YOU GUYS. There was sunshine today! And chirpy little birds all over the place, and clear skies, and I swear it even smelled like spring out there.

It's so much easier to be nice to people when the weather cooperates, isn't it? I had a full schedule of student appointments today and not ONCE did I vow to drink my lunch. (To be fair, it's a dry campus so that makes the vow a little easier, but still.) Even the street people that usually lurk around our building were pleasant.

Really, though. How can you not feel like a nicer person with this

and this

going on around you!?

Fingers crossed that the other half of the adage just kind of forgets to show up. Easter egg hunts aren't nearly as fun in a blizzard. (Plus there's the whole Twilight saga connection to the lion and lamb imagery, and I would very much prefer not to have to address that issue.)

Hope it was nice today, wherever you are!

Lean Cuisine can suck it.

2010-03-03T20:53:00.032-05:00

I knew I shouldn't have gloated about my late mornings last week.

All hell broke loose at the office today... half an hour before I was due to go home.

Of course it did.

When I finally found sanctuary at J's place, I was greeted with the homey smell of garlic bread wafting from the oven, [lowfat turkey] meatballs simmering in sauce, and a glass of pinot noir waiting for me by "my spot" on the couch. Awesome.

Totally shameless 100% NON-guilty pleasure numero uno: anytime J cooks dinner.

Crisis averted!

I'm gonna need a bigger Easy Bake Oven.

2010-03-02T23:10:00.000-05:00

"I'm gonna be the mom that makes the world's best chocolate chip cookies!"

"Our kids are gonna be fat, aren't they."

Monica & Chandler (Courteney Cox & Matthew Perry), Friends, "The One With Phoebe's Cookies"

All right. I will be the first to admit that this is ridiculous and a completely selfish and irrational reason for wanting to have kids, but... LOOK!

nom nom nom

And LOOK!

That is a CAKE! Made to look like LEGOS!

Somebody around here better start having babies, because I am just DYING to get them all sugared up with this cute crap.

*finger on nose*

NOT IT...

School is in SESSION.

2010-03-01T17:06:00.001-05:00

J and I celebrated the anniversary this weekend with a couple dates that included DQ Blizzards and a lazy Saturday afternoon matinee of Shutter Island.

Ice cream and being scared out of my face? That guy sure knows his audience.

Damn it... just looking at this makes me want another one.

But this isn't about ice cream.

The movie was fantastic. I really like the kind of movies that keep me mentally engaged the whole time, trying to figure out what's happening or anticipate the next twist. This one delivered on both counts, and while it wasn't jump-out-at-you-BOO scary, there is a tremendous psychological creep factor that made my skin crawl.

Mark Ruffalo! Squee!!

But this isn't about a movie review either.

What this entry is about is a new feature here on BLBK: lessons in common sense for the Socially or Otherwise Stunted (aka S.O.S. Get it?).

There are people walking among us with no sense of what constitutes socially acceptable behavior. Hard to believe, I know! Given the mouth-breathing specimens J and I encountered this weekend, though, I was forced to acknowledge once again that common sense is NOT, in fact, COMMON. So let's start with some prerequisites! Read on for descriptions of courses to be offered.

MOVI 115: Movie Theater Manners, or "This Ain't Your Living Room, Sweetie."

We're going to the movies! Let's get ready, shall we?

...you're not leaving the house in that, are you? I mean, I know sweats are comfy. Hell, I wear them almost exclusively when I'm at home on the couch. At home. On the couch. Not in public places where I am sitting within spitting distance of the next person. If you're going to insist on sweats or a tracksuit of any kind, however, I will insist that it is clean.

And as long as we're remotely near the subject of spitting distance: if you have any issues that may cause bodily fluids to shoot out of your nostrils/mouth/eyes/ears/wherever, please, for the love of all things Purell, stay home.

OK. Ticket? Check. Snacks and drinks? Check aaaaand check. (I have no issue with bringing your own; that's why God made big purses fashionable.) Let's find a seat that does not require us to climb across the nice people who have been sitting quietly since before the lights went out. See, there's a brief period before the previews where the lights in the theater are actually ON, and you can see where you're going without resorting to your cell phone backlight as a beacon.

Which reminds me: now is a good time to silence your phone. If you want to pass this class, you will turn off your ringer entirely (not just set it to vibrate) and put your phone in that big purse or your pocket for the duration of the movie. Contrary to what you may believe, the global economy is not fueled by your texting and tweeting habits. The universe will not come to a screeching halt if you go off the grid for two hours. Lock it up. Students who do not complete this assignment receive immediate failure for this class and will be required to pass PHON 121: Cell Phone Manners, or "You're Needed In the OR, Doctor" before continuing on to other courses.

You're almost ready for the final exam, the movie itself, and our last topic to cover may well be the most important one! The images blazing across the screen in front of you are part of a recorded film. All these scenes? Not happening in real time. Similarly, the people you see talking, fighting, kissing, etc., are actors. Playing characters. Who cannot hear you. Laughter, gasps and cheering are appropriate and encouraged! Talking at full volume to the people onscreen is not.

The "shhhh" gesture is a coincidence.

Students who pass this course will be released back into the wild to enjoy movies unattended. I caution you to avoid the typical student "brain dump" of material you've learned, however; don't think I won't rat you out.

*Instructor's note: special thanks to the woman who sat three seats to J's right on Saturday as the inspiration for this course. She committed all five offenses before the opening credits had run. Bravo, madam.

Bon Anniversaire!

2010-02-26T08:20:00.001-05:00

My sister E over at the heyday diaries is singing that title to herself right now. (You're welcome!)

Today's entry in the gratitude journal: my favorite pic of us. My friend A caught it on the sly on a double date night. Who knew she had such a photographer's eye?!

Happy first anniversary, J. *smooooch!*

Like high school English, but with more drinking and less reading.

2010-02-25T23:34:00.001-05:00

Okay, so: Book Club.

I do a lot of cool things, but BC is by far one of my favorites. Easily in the Top 5. It started out innocently enough, when my awesome friend A back in the hometown got tired of waiting months and months between girls' nights out. She had always wanted to be in a book club, so she figured she'd start one herself, cajole some girlfriends into "joining" and see where it took them.

Problem is, we're all busy chicks. Jobs and boyfriends and husbands and kids and tons of other demands on our time... who the hell has time to read?

So A compromised and said all right, we'll just read the trashy celebrity gossip rags. It's stuff we'd be reading anyway, she thought; why don't we trade the magazines around and boom, now I've just saved you all about ten bucks in grocery store checkout line.

That was August of 2008. I think we stuck to the original "format" once.

After that, it just sort of evolved into the awesomeness that it is today. We meet once a month (usually on the third Thursday, but we're flexible) and a different girl hosts each time. It's been as simple as drinks and dinner, but we've also done Saturday morning brunch (with an intense Bloody Mary bar) and sex toy parties and purse parties and trips to the winery and all kinds of fun stuff.

One of our best moments was "Book Club Gives Back" in November: we gathered up enough stuff to make two dozen "care packages" for the Battered Women's Shelter, with toiletries and some pampering items, and some packages for their children as well. A has a 16-month-old daughter, Little C, and she suggested adding the kids to the project because "as a mom, [she] couldn't imagine not being able to give [them] a Christmas." (A is about to be honored as Volunteer of the Year through an organization she helps; easy to see why, huh?)

The December meeting is everyone's favorite. We pack ourselves into a couple cars and take a Christmas shopping road trip, complete with slumber party in a hotel suite, pedicures and cupcakes and a LOT of champagne.

The dynamic nature is what makes it so cool. There are a handful of "regulars" who never miss a month, but you can always bring new girls with you - they're only newbies for about half an hour anyway!

What's more important is the fact that we commit to getting together once a month, no matter what. It's easy to say "I'm busy, I'm tired, I have too much else going on," and we'll grant you a pass when you really need one. The truth is, though, we need each other just as much as we need the boyfriends/husbands/kids/jobs/etc. Sometimes the only thing that will keep you off the ledge is a bottle of red (each) and a fantastic session of venting and giggling!

Then why even call it a book club?

Ahhh, the name is one of the key elements! Because this way, we can talk about it in front of the guys or in front of our non-cool coworkers and acquaintances and they say "yeeuuuughhhhh, no thanks, have fun with that one."

Oh, and because it gives us justification for drinking in the morning (I love you, brunch!).

When I moved, I knew I'd miss my little group more than I could tell them... so I've started an annex here. Our second meeting is next week; I'm sure the Columbus chapter will be featured here more often as time goes by!

I snooze, you lose

2010-02-24T23:05:00.000-05:00

There is something SO satisfying about getting to sleep in on a weekday.

Weekends too, yeah, but everybody gets to do that. I'm talking about a random day in the middle of the week where you, just you, get to lounge around for a little bit longer than the rest of the worker bees.

My office hours are usually the typical 8-to-5 buzz, but twice a week I get to come in late, and those two days are the highlights of my work week. Wednesdays start at 9, and Thursdays - glorious Thursdays! - don't start until 11. I've thought about running errands during that time: the bank, the post office, dare I say a trip to the gym? But I always end up snuggling down into the covers while J shuffles around, grumbling at his alarm clock.

...and I'm not even sorry.

You and me both, sister.

One girl's resolution*

2010-02-23T15:42:00.004-05:00

I've been a card-carrying member of Weight Watchers for longer than I care to admit, and yet I've still never quite made it to "Lifetime Member" status (WW code for "free"). During the holidays, with the stress of moving added onto an already-busy social season, counting calories - Points, to those of us in the know - was the last thing on my mind.

One of the first things I did after unpacking my overnight bag was to recommit to getting there "for real this time." I make my New Year's resolutions in September, with the start of the school year, but there's no denying that something about this approach smacks of resolutionary status.

Somehow, though, this time feels different. I don't have a major life event that I'm using as a deadline for dropping the pounds; sure, my ten-year college reunion is this summer, but I'm more or less the same size now that I was back then.

Side note: "back then??" That's odd. Surely, I can't have been out of undergrad for a decade already, as I haven't aged a day!

It just... means more. Maybe it's that I want it more now; maybe it's that I'm finally ready to see it through. Whatever. Time for a little more of this:

and a little less of this:

So I've spent the past week resurrecting my personal weight management site. (WOW, does that sound lame.) It's my way of holding myself accountable and of preparing to meet my goal of eventually leading Weight Watchers meetings. It's also a way to keep it off my blog and in its own separate, distinguishable place.

So what's on it?

My master shopping list, where I name product brands and don't just call it "reduced fat popcorn" or whatever. Specifics!

Some bits of wisdom I've picked up through the course of my Battle of the Bulge.

A cheat sheet list of favorite easy and low-cal snacks.

And RECIPES! A ton of them, with more to come... and all them have been tested, usually on an unsuspecting J. Best part? The people I've cooked for have had no idea they've been eating WW-sanctioned recipes.

Feel free to check me out over at On The Weigh....

*With apologies to Superchick.

Why Rachel should seek help: Exhibit C.

2010-02-22T23:47:00.001-05:00

"Well, the end table is wrong, the couch looks bizarre and don't even get me started on the refrigerator magnets."

"If I want something done right, I have to do it myself. Other people just wreck stuff! ...I really think I might kill someone tonight."

- Courteney Cox as Monica Geller, Friends, "The One Where Phoebe Runs"

So, the move this weekend.

First of all, I'm going on record to say that I will never, ever again attempt to move on my own. The movers met me at the condo at 8:30 Saturday morning, gratefully accepted the proffered Krispy Kremes, loaded up all my furniture and hit the road.

A brief 90 minutes later, I was signing the "job complete" contract and sending them along their merry way. You can't put a price on that kind of speed.

But lifting and hauling a king-size bed, dressers and a full living room set? That was the easy part compared to what lies before me now.

Dude: I HATE moving. I'm seriously contemplating burning all my stuff and just buying new the next time I have to uproot myself. It would be a lot more expensive, for sure, but what I'd spend on kitchen items and linens would save me a bundle in OTC sedatives.

The boxes are beating me.

I had to put myself in time-out on Saturday afternoon for a nap, after the project of reattaching feet to the couch almost had me in tears. J sweetly suggested that I wait for him to help me but NO I CAN DO IT MYSELF AND I WANT IT DONE NOW AND I JUST... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I love you, naptime.

I'm sure you can tell that I'm exaggerating just a tiny bit. The nap did wonders for my morale; I only had to rearrange the living room four times to get it exactly the way I want it, and now that I'm almost completely settled in, the place is starting to look and feel like home. Which was really the whole idea to begin with, so... point Cbus.

Well played.

Rach on the move

2010-02-19T16:22:00.001-05:00

It's finally upon us (well, me): the movers are coming tomorrow. There is snow in the forecast, but not until Sunday night, so I'm go for launch to have all my shit under one roof again.

FINALLY.

After driving a 14-foot U-Haul truck up and down I-71 in the snow on New Year's weekend, there was no way in hell I was going to put myself (and J, and my friends) through that again. Not this soon, anyway. I like J and I want him to keep liking me. Ditto my friends, who were sweet enough to help me load and unload, with only a few beers and some wings and ribs for payment.

Just kidding J, I love you AND your video games.

All the manageable boxes are accounted for; I've been moving a bit at a time for the last ten days so the kitchen is complete and my closet is neatly organized (with clothes hanging first in category and then in color order). I just don't have the physical strength to move a king bed, a dresser and cedar chest, and my entire living room set on my own... to say nothing of the emotional fortitude it would require. The last effort? Nearly broke my spirit.

But not a moment too soon, since next week I'm hosting the February meeting of my book club!

...which is a whole new post in itself. Cliffhanger! Stay warm this weekend, kids; cross your fingers for another snow day for me on Monday so I can stay home, unpack and get to that spring cleaning!

Board game FAIL.

A slightly un-American post.

2010-02-18T19:27:00.001-05:00

I kind of hate the Olympics.

I mean, sure: Rah rah! U.S.A! America, F*** Yeah!

But also: quit hogging my TV, dude.

I know part of it is that I'm just sick to death of the snow. Sorry athletes, but I am just completely. burnt. out. on winter right now. Come back in four years. (Heh.)

Ironic, isn't it, that February is the shortest month, and yet somehow these 16 days feel like an eternity? I can't remember the last time I turned on the TV and wasn't blinded by the glare of sun on snow... or is it the strobe light-like effect of a zillion camera flashes aimed at Johnny Weir's costume?

Then there's pairs figure skating. I caught some of it over the weekend and I swear to you, at least one person in every. last. couple. TOTALLY BIT IT.

Can you imagine? Train your ass off, fall a whole lot, skate skate skate, sweat sweat sweat, skate some more, fall some more, skate AGAIN... and then your D.B. (Sweeney!) partner falls?

HELL no. He'd be staring down the barrel of a tantrum of epic proportions. The whole world just watched you biff it for me... it's going to be a long flight home, sweetie.

"I swear, you let me down and it'll take them a month to count the blade marks up your back."

(FYI, that's one of my favorite movies. "Yes, Doug can read." Classic snark!)

Really, I think I just have a hard time getting all fired up over how fast people can slide down a hill on their stomachs in this kind of weather ON PURPOSE. Sure, those guys do it and it's monumental! Hooray! Here's a medal!

But then I do it, and people think I'm drunk again.

Hrmph.

P.S. don't report me as a terror threat. And for the love of relationship harmony, please don't tell J. Actually that's probably more important.

*EDITED TO ADD: I must admit to a slight weird crush-like fascination with Shaun White. That dude just looks... snuggly.

Unoriginal sin.

2010-02-17T22:52:00.000-05:00

It never fails: every year in mid-February, when a bunch of us are out walking around with sooty thumbprints on our foreheads, someone will go all Helpy Helperson on us.

"Dude? You got something on your face."

I KNOW. Thirteen years of Catholic school wouldn't let me NOT get smudged today.

But then it made me think of the epic battle of dirt vs. clean... and then BOOM, there you have it, this week's little indulgence.

Is it weird that I like to clean? Spring cleaning is one of my guilty pleasures FOR.SURE. When I moved to this fair city, I brought an entire carload* of cleaning supplies: Windex and Clorox wipes and a Swiffer WetJet and a vacuum cleaner and two kinds of Pledge and countertop cleaner from Williams-Sonoma and those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and more, so much more. J was like "um, OCD much?"

Well, not officially, no, but man, do I love me some clean. The scent of a gleaming kitchen, and the way sunlight shines on a polished-smooth coffee table? Awesome.

Maybe I can combine my newfound magic power and my love for the smell of Cinch and see if we can get rid of some of this snow...

To the face! Take THAT dirt and snow!

*a 2000 Honda CR-V EX, to be precise... or "the sweet sweet Curve" as it is more commonly known

Every little thing I do is magic!

2010-02-16T22:10:00.001-05:00

WHAT DID I TELL YOU!?

It totally worked. Half a dozen ice cubes, flushed right down, plus one long-sleeved Cleveland Browns t-shirt worn backwards equals a free day off work, bitches!

My university has that text-alert system that lets subscribers know of any special developments: parking bans, bomb threats... snow days...

I woke up to my alarm at 5:30 this morning and checked my phone immediately: no text. I'll let you imagine the grumbling and crankiness that ensued. Six minutes later, I got the all-clear to go back to bed in the form of a text message telling me they'd decided to open at noon. Good enough for that early in the morning!

Got up four hours later and shuffled around the apartment, pouting about having to get "work dressed" and drive in the cold to the office for a half day of nothing to do... and just as I was about to stop with the pouting and start getting ready, the beautiful tones of the little bing-bong text message alert sounded, telling me to take a load off and stay put for the day.

Apparently I have magic powers. Anything you want me to work on for you?

Eat it, winter.

2010-02-15T19:15:00.000-05:00

The university closed early again today. I got sent home at 2... and I pulled into the parking lot at J's place at 4.

They're 15 miles apart.

Much like the rest of the Midwest and the Eastern seaboard, our fair state's capital has been getting hosed with snow this year. My life is about one log cabin and a pot of beans away from turning into Little House on the Freakin' Prairie. (Book six, The Long Winter, is my second favorite in the series, but damn it, I don't want to BE Laura Ingalls!)

This chapter in our snow story may be the worst yet this winter, but the silver lining is that it might lead to a snow day tomorrow. They told us to wrap up our Monday itineraries before we left... and to reschedule any Tuesday meetings or appointments... you know, just in case.

Well, hell. Don't dangle a carrot like that unless you mean it!

With the prospect of a snow day looming, I have to confess that the two hour drive home was complicated by a stop at the only Whole Foods in Columbus. In my defense, though, it's walking distance from J's place, and if this keeps up and we get snowed in, we're going to need supplies!

I went into the store, and it was snowing.

I came out 20 minutes later (and X dollars poorer), had to scrape ice off my windows, and it was snowing.

J and I sat down to watch a marathon of Pawn Stars on The History Channel almost three hours ago, fortified with adult beverages and some bacon-cheese popcorn, and it was snowing.

A pot of my awesome "patate del paesano" has been simmering for about two episodes. The house smells incredible, J just poured me a second glass of shiraz... and it's still snowing.

Fingers crossed! I'm going to invoke the third-grade prescription for getting a snow day tonight: flushing ice cubes down the toilet and wearing my jammies backwards. Stay tuned to see if it works!

Putting it out there

2010-02-12T23:24:00.001-05:00

Heh.

Nah, not that kind of putting out. (I mean, it's Valentine's Day and all, but come on.) I mean the kind where I get all brave and resume the website I created a few years back, about fitness, health, weight loss and my Weight Watchers chronicles.

There's a lot of clean-up to be done, but I'll have some time this weekend to work on it. Watch this space for the grand unveiling!

Have a great weekend, kids! Hope you get something lovely for Valentine's Day! (We had a double date at Chili's tonight... it was like being in high school all over again, and it was awesome.)

A Day in the Life of Love.

2010-02-11T23:29:00.002-05:00

That's the tagline for the movie Valentine's Day, opening tomorrow.

Good, isn't it. Makes me wish I'd thought of it.

Anyway. The weekend is upon us: time for roses and heart-shaped EVERYTHINGS and champagne (who are we kidding, it's always time for that). Also time for the inevitable whining and complaining and bitter diatribes from the recently dumped and the perpetually single.

I have a friend who always says that she won the husband lottery; I LOVE that metaphor! I have totally won the lottery with J - he's the best valentine ever. But that's not the point. I have loved this holiday for as long as I can remember, and not because of a boyfriend or a Whitman's Sampler or a big ol' carnival-style white teddy bear. I didn't really start dating till I hit college (although that didn't stop me from going to four senior proms, HEY-OHHHH!) so it's not like I'm building my perceptions of the day on a game of M.A.S.H.

The thing is, if you're lucky enough to have love in your life, celebrate it. It could be your parents. Or your "significant other." Or your best friend. Or your dog, for God's sake. The shape it takes isn't important. What is important is that you know what it is to care about another creature, and that you get that same in return.

Yes, in a perfect world, we'd all celebrate it every day, and we wouldn't need a day set aside to remind us to appreciate what we have. Absolutely. No argument here.

But how nice that the day does exist. I don't know about you, but when J is playing video games until two in the morning for the fourth time in a week, a little reminder that I love the guy doesn't hurt.

This Valentine's Day, ignore the ones who gnash their teeth and rail against the "Hallmark holiday"... and delight in the fact that you know what it is to love.

"Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.

"And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous."

- Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker), Sex and the City

mmmm...Sampler.

P.S. A very special birthday wish to one of the stars of Valentine's Day: Taylor Lautner turned 18 today, which means I am no longer a creeper, I'm just a cougar. Meeee-yow, bitches!

Coffee and a hurts-donut* please.

2010-02-10T13:52:00.000-05:00

Donut shop coffee is like my personal Kryptonite. I can't say no to it. I'm not even in it for the donuts as much as I am the little paper cup with the pop-top plastic lid.

Oh Krispy Kreme. I love you too.

Not all fast food coffee is created equal. McDonald's is always a little too oily for my taste; Burger King's offering tastes burnt; Starbucks is just OKAY, given that it's overpriced and way too full of itself. But a cup from Dunkin' Donuts, or Tim Hortons, or (my holy grail) Krispy Kreme? Yum.

Most of the time I don't even want the donut; I think the coffee just tastes better because it comes with that deliciously yeasty, glazey smell. Thank God smells don't have calories or I'd be a hundred pounds heavier.

Judgment-free indulgence, right this way!

*(punch) Hurts, don't it?

Give it a rest, Rach.

2010-02-09T19:49:00.001-05:00

I got another snow day today! The university held out till 3:00, but the roads were getting worse and the snow just kept falling, so The Powers That Be convened an emergency meeting and decided to let us all go home.

It wasn't really a surprise. My 15-mile commute took 90 minutes this morning, and I was one of the ones who had it easy.

The point is, though, that my first thought wasn't "freebie long evening, ahhhhhh!" It was "holy crap! Two extra hours to get a ton of stuff done tonight!"

Commute forgotten, Level 1 Snow Emergency be damned, I'm going to get some moving and unpacking done! Watch out, new apartment; you don't even know what's coming!

And then J was my reality check.

"Rach: the roads are ten times worse than they were this morning. The boxes will still be there this weekend."

What my car would have looked like if I had had to work a full day.

Hrmph. That guy is right, like, all the time.

So I left the office, picked up a bottle of Shiraz (for me), a six-pack of Conway's Irish Ale (for J and his brother who's visiting), a little pot of broccoli cheddar soup and a loaf of crusty bread... and I've been sitting on the couch since 4:37.

What's cool is that today goes right along with yesterday's entry. I make lists, an average of two or three a day. My day planner might as well be my bible. It stands to reason, then, that sometimes I need a little help shutting off that part of my life and just... being. I'm writing this from J's couch (because I haven't moved mine yet, duh!) in a sweatshirt and yoga pants; he just got up to pour me a second glass. He and his brother S and I are plotting out the evening's TV selections and trying to decide between Xbox or PS3 in the meantime.

I know exactly what's going in the gratitude journal tonight.

You're so pretty when you're quiet.

2010-02-08T22:52:00.000-05:00

I used to write a lot. A lot. I was in creative writing competitions in middle school; in high school, I kept a journal on a 3.5" disk that I carried everywhere; I created a website one of my first college classes. I even hounded my favorite professor to let me into his classes when they were overbooked. One was a reviewing class for budding theater and film critics.

Movies and telling people what I think? I like both those things!

Somehow, though, I let it get away from me. I was too busy, or there were reruns of Friends on (again), or I just couldn't think of anything "good" to write about. I have dozens of blank notebooks and journals with just five or six pages filled.

This blog is part of a renewed effort to get back into it. I'm tickled that you're reading! ...but even if I were out here on the interwebs alone, I'd still delight in each entry.

The second part of that effort is something called a gratitude journal. Oprah has talked about the concept on several occasions. Sarah Ban Breathnach, author of Simple Abundance, places great emphasis on using gratitude to find your "authentic self."

I love that word: authentic. Real, true, genuine.

So I've started one. I bought a pretty blank book (#417, I think) and I have it sitting right out on my nightstand with the clock and my glasses and the omnipresent water glass, where I can see it every night before I go to bed.

It started out simple enough; I just wanted to keep some quick daily notes on the things that make my life more beautiful. In the short time I've been logging them, though, I've discovered that it's given me one more thing to savor: five minutes of quiet every day!

Just making myself sit still for a hot minute is something worth noting. I'm one of those morning people who is go-go-go from the moment my feet hit the floor... but at night, when I'm clocking out on the day, that split second of quiet is priceless.

(And yes, today's title is something J says every now and then... right before he ducks the punch I throw at him.)

Drive me to drink, indeed.

2010-02-05T14:48:00.001-05:00

So, there's a big ol' storm ragin'. Specifically, central Ohio is expected to get 8-10 inches (...heh) of snow overnight, and a total closer to 14-18 inches (..heh, again) by lunchtime Sunday.

I'm fine with it. I'm from northeast Ohio, damn it: the buckle of the Snow Belt! We love this shit! I went to Target the other night in a hoodie sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts and got that look from the other shoppers.

Oh yeah, other shoppers? It's 40 degrees out, not 15 below, and it's not currently snowing/sleeting/wintry-mixing (note to Sarah, "wintry mix" is proof that God wants to test humanity), and anyway it takes 92 seconds to walk from the car into the store, so relax.

But it's not the shoppers that get under my skin.

It's the drivers.

Or, as I am about to experience again, the drivers who live in perpetual fear of winter weather.

For some illogical, unexplainable reason, the good people of Columbus, Ohio, just cannot seem to get their heads around winter driving. We're stationed close to the center of a Midwestern state, and yet, judging by the reaction of 90% of the driving population in the area, you would think this was Key West.

Hey, folks? We do this every year. That crazy white stuff you see falling from the sky is just really cold water. You know what this month is? That's right, February. It's part of winter. You may have heard of winter; it's the stretch of the year from around Halloween to Easter-ish (or Passover, for our token Jewish friends. Shalom). You know how we're always touting Midwestern living, saying how we couldn't move anywhere else because we'd miss the change of all four seasons? Yeah. Winter is one of those.

The silver lining to the impending city-wide freakout is that the university I work for has decided to close at 3 p.m. T-minus 13 minutes to the weekend, y'all!

(I figure if we're going to act like this is the Deep South, I'm gonna play my southern family ties card and drop a y'all here and there.)

Now, THIS is worth a freakout of epic proportions.

Baaaaa!!

2010-02-04T23:26:00.000-05:00

OK. MODG started something here. Sarah jumped on it and Jenni was right behind her... not since my days at an all-girls' high school have I so keenly felt the effects of peer pressure. (Don't worry, kids: high school is a post for another day.)

Here we go:

Paula Deen!?

*deep breath*

OK. Let's give it one more shot.

I hate you Internet.

FYI: I just said that out loud and J said "YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW."

Although it IS kind of cool to be associated with DJ Tanner. Remember the one when she starved herself and worked out like a maniac because Kathy Santoni was "sooooo pretty"!?

Yeah. I went there.

The one thing that sort of redeems this whole project is this one...

Ha haaa!! J, you look like Ross! And Dawson! What a buncha d-bags.

Shut up ladies, he's MY d-bag.

Wanna try it? Upload a pic and go nuts.

Guilty as charged, bitches!

2010-02-03T12:58:00.000-05:00

Humpity hump hump hump!! *snort*

Shhhh... hear that? It's the weekly test of the emergency alert siren! The one in my hometown only fires up on the first Wednesday of every month, but the one in this fair city is EVERY WEDNESDAY BY GOD, lest we all be caught unawares...

I'm all right with it, if only because it means lunch hour on the third day of the work week = exactly halfway to the weekend!

So it's time once again for Guilty Pleasure Wednesday: the safe space for airing those things you refuse to be sorry for!

Last week I copped to loving reality TV; this week is a variation on the same.

J and I looooove us some Biggest Loser... but what I love most about it is that Tuesday night means takeout or Ben & Jerry's on the couch while we watch it. Sometimes both. I spend the rest of my week trying to watch what goes into my mouth, trying to work out (and usually failing), all that healthy skinny jazz. But then our Tuesday date night rolls around, and HELL YEAH, J and I are sitting side by side on the couch, talking with our mouths full and feeling better about ourselves by the minute.

If that's not love, I don't know what is.

Time to admit to those shameless little indulgences....

Neverending Story III: Rachel vs. the Baby

2010-02-02T09:26:00.000-05:00

Remember this little nugget?

Falcor: I like children.

Atreyu: ...for breakfast??

Falcor: BWAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA

Mmmmm... tastes like chicken.

The world welcomed another little peanut yesterday morning: new little baby cousin L is finally here, almost two weeks late to his own birth and weighing in at ten-plus pounds. Aw!! Just like his cousin Rachel... almost 32 whole years ago. (Seriously kid, I'm the oldest of the grandchildren. I am the original "been there, done that" in this family.)

Just kidding (well, sort of). He is, of course, amazing! So sweet and cuddly-looking and with tons of personality already; not that I expected anything less. I won't get to see him till this weekend, but you better believe I have a bunch of fun little baby gifts all lined up already; this one is my favorite. Also briefly considered this one one for my aunt and uncle, until I realized they are way too mature for such a gift.

I might get it for myself, though. Can't hurt to be prepared.

I've entered that life phase now where bachelorette parties and drunk dials have been replaced with baby showers and calls home to the sitter. Tons of my friends have kids already, and the ones that don't are starting to think about it. If you're one of them: congratulations (and for the love of God, don't ever use the phrase "we're trying" in conversation with me)!

I looooooove being Aunt Rach to my girlfriends' babies and Fun Cousin Rach to the family munchkins. Perfect example: A has a 15-month-old daughter who is a RIOT. Before I moved, one of my absolute favorite things to do was to fake a sick day to have a playdate with the two of them. Yes, really! We'd spend a few hours playing with her toys and reading books, and when Little C crashed for a nap, A and I would park ourselves on her big squashy couch to catch up over lunchtime martinis and terrible daytime TV. (A is also the founder of our fabulous book club, which is a future blog entry in itself. Just writing this makes me miss her!)

But I also love going home afterward, mixing a Bloody Mary and eating a balanced dinner of Cheez-Its and gummi worms.

Plus, I think I should probably get married first. Call me a traditionalist, but somehow I think my Irish/German Catholic grandmas would frown on a white dress if I provided my own ring bearer.

There's the actual pregnancy and labor to consider. Sure, TV and movies dramatize it, but if it weren't really going to include growling like a wild animal, they probably wouldn't call it childbearing.

And then we have the genetic wild cards I'm going to be holding. I'm not exactly an Amazon, but I'm tallish for a girl, and J, God love him, is a wee bit on the furry side. Cute as we both may be, there is a distinct possibility that we could end up with a sasquatch for a child.

"Mamaaa!!"

Honestly, I'm a tad relieved that there's a new baby in the family... takes any heat off my sister and me. I'll get there eventually, but for now I'm perfectly content to be the aunt that Mommy and Daddy warn their kids about.

"Aunt Rachel was kidding when she said you were adopted...

and for God's sake, don't drink out of her 'water bottle.'"

Should this blog entry be unable to fulfill its duties, the runner-up entry will take its place.

2010-02-01T08:26:00.001-05:00

Actual conversation that happened this weekend:

Me: OMG Miss DC looks like Heidi Montag!!
J: Before or after the plastic surgeries?
Me: ...between.

A and C and I started a tradition when we were roomies back in 2006: we watch the Miss America pageant in cocktail dresses and tiaras; we make each other sashes with snarky little titles on them (I'm still the reigning Miss Rubber City); we drink champagne and reveal hidden talents.

Sadly, we only lived together that one year, and the pageant party went dormant for a while.

It was resurrected in 2009 and we had such a kickass time that I vowed to make it an annual event! Unfortunately, the fete was sidelined again this year by my move to the big city. Between the move and starting the new job and a number of other distractions, I simply didn't have the time to do it justice. Instead of drinking champagne in my LBD, I'm drinking a Miller Lite in my Snuggie.

From this:

To this:

To maintain some semblance of tradition, then, I kept track of some of the things that ran through my head tonight. Enjoy...

I want Clinton Kelly to be my boy-friend. (Read Bright Lights, Big Ass by the charming, disarming Jen Lancaster for a detailed description of the difference that one little hyphen can make.)
Miss New Mexico looks like my friend Angela!!
Shawn Johnson is absolutely poured into that dress.
Rush Limbaugh? For realsies?
Want Katie Harman's necklace. WANT.
Hey, remember when Brooke White was relevant? No? Me neither.
On adding a 15th finalist based on the votes of the remaining 39 girls: what. The. Crap. Good idea in theory... not so much with the execution. Did you see the deer in headlights look on the one girl's face? Which one? YES.
Digging the soundtrack this year. Black Eyed Peas, Stevie Wonder, V Factory, Pat Monahan, a little Gaga fo' yo'self... nice work, pageant people. *EDITED TO ADD: ah, you lost me at Katy Perry.
Note to self for the swimsuit shopping this year: black bikinis look too much like underwear from far away.
HA HAA: the peanut gallery is standing out of order... yay, Miss Nebarska!! *snort*
I-ro-ny (n., ahy-ruh-nee): a pageant contestant telling me that looks aren't important and that what matters is what's on the inside.
What's with the bicycle bell between each of the evening dresses?
She tripped! Dear God, MISS TEXAS TRIPPED!
Was it just me, or could you totally see RIGHT UP Ericka Dunlap's (2004 winner) dress? Let's do our best not to tarnish the crown, sweetie.
I love how the talents are the "Pop-Up Video" portion of the show. She's a ballerina... and her goal is to become a pediatric heart surgeon! She performed at the Apollo Theater in NYC... and at Obama's inauguration festivities! She's an opera singer... and she wants to get her motorcycle license!

Second actual conversation of the evening:

Me: Miss Hawaii is doing the hula for her talent!?

J: ...she would.

Aw. Love that guy.

Miss Kentucky may or may not be a python. Wouldja look at the mouth on that girl!
Am I drunk again, or do they really have Joe-on-the-street characters asking the final questions?
Her? Really!?

So there you have it. Polish your tiara and practice your tap dancing and baton twirling, because next year's competition is going to be a doozy!

I got to say it was a good day

2010-01-29T18:48:00.000-05:00

Seriously? Best Friday on record. Payday. Jeans day. Free ten-minute massage at the office. Donato's pizza gift card just for showing up to work. A shared plate of Tater Totchos for lunch. Scale said I was a pound and a half skinnier this morning (that was pre-totchos, of course). And I'm 24 hours closer to that walk-in closet (yup, Sarah, it's that important to me too) and being stationary for the next 15 months!

I'm working on bringing back the use of the word rad. Today would have been an ideal application.

Not much else to post today, darlings: have yourselves a rad weekend and I'll see you next week!

I didn't even have to use my AK.

Some girls have all the luck.

2010-01-28T21:42:00.002-05:00

...and I'm not one bit sorry about it.

J is the boyfriend. He's cute, if you like that "former college athlete-smarter than your Calc prof-takes you to chick flicks without rolling his eyes" type.

Which I DO.

We've been dating just this side of a year, and for the first 10 months we lived two hours apart. Then, through the magic of new jobs and U-Haul trucks and an inhumane amount of packing tape, I moved to his fair city a month ago.

And it. Is. Awesome.

The best part about it is that I would have moved here even if not for J. I love my hometown. Northeast Ohio kicks ass and anyone who says otherwise never had ME for a tour guide. But there's something... something about this city that just draws you in and makes you want to know everything about it. I'd tried to move here twice before but never got the timing right: I was looking for a paycheck, not a career, and I didn't know which were the "good" neighborhoods, and I only had one or two friends in the area.

Now? I've landed a job that makes perfect sense in my life, both professionally and personally. In two weeks I'm moving out of my temporary home at a friend's house and into a lovely little apartment (with my first ever walk-in closet! *SIGH*).

And my boyfriend, my best friend, is here too.

Before, with more than a hundred miles between us, we had to actively plan out our dates. Weekends were too short and it was An Occasion every time we got to see each other, since those times were always at least five days apart.

Now? Weekends are still too short, but it's not as important because we don't have to cram a week's worth into them.

"If I haven't said it before, she's a lucky, lucky lady."*

Friends, season 8 #15, "The One With the Birthing Video."**

**See? Told you.

Happy Hump Day! (...hee.)

2010-01-27T23:11:00.005-05:00

YES I KNOW WHY IT’S CALLED THAT.

I don’t care! “Hump” is hilarious. Say it without laughing; I dare you! Just because I can buy beer without getting carded anymore doesn’t mean I have to give up those shameless little indulgences.

Halfway to the weekend... gotta keep our eyes on the prize... and so I present to you: Guilty Pleasure Wednesday.

Me? I love reality TV. No, I mean: I love it. Not all of it; I'm pretty discriminating in what I choose to watch, but once I commit to a show, I'm all in. I DVR it and watch it once through, and then maybe a second time to catch the little subtleties. I read the recaps of "my" shows on this amazing site. I throw my cash away on pools and I root like hell for my horse. (Robert Best owes me $10, damn it.) Go big or go home!

The Big Three are Survivor, The Biggest Loser and American Idol... although Idol loses me once we get past the train wreck audition shows and the complete meltdown of Hollywood week.

I lived with A and C in the apartment that Colgate built in the summer of 2006, when Britney's infamous interview with Matt Lauer interview aired, and that fiasco stayed locked in the DVR until our lease was up. Nothing cured a bad day like a bottle of wine and a couple screeches of "we're country!"

I know you've got one too. At least one. Come on, sweetie,tell Rachel all about it.

I believe you have my stapler.

2010-01-26T23:08:00.009-05:00

For the purposes of this entry, I'm going to assume you've seen the 1999 movie Office Space. When I graduated from college, my friends and I all got jobs and saw this classic and then gave a collective gasp and said "oh my God, this is MY LIFE."

Yes. Yes it is. From the fake-casual boss who asks about your weekend and doesn't wait to hear the answer to the coworker whose tics are enough to make you nostalgic for holidays with your family, I bet you've encountered a Bill Lumbergh, a Tom Smykowski, a pair of Bobs, a Milton once or twice in your quest for gainful employment.

I spend eight to ten hours, five days a week, in a cube farm with 14 other people. It's not a bad setup for the most part; there's a lot of natural light and most of us are reasonably mellow people.

Most of us.

One of us, however, is a little high-strung. As luck and fate and job karma would have it, this character sits four feet to my right on the other side of a cubicle half-wall. We started in the office around the same time so there's a sort of newbie kinship, and we have a friendly competition going to see who can waste more time. (I'm crushing him.)

He is also a whistler.

And a leg shaker.

And a lip smacker.

If there were an American Idol for whistling, this guy would be first in line at the auditions. Sometimes it's a song; sometimes it's just a random string of notes rolling around in his skull.

The water in the glass on my desk is rippling as I type this. Jurassic Park-style. It feels like my desk is stationed on one of those moving sidewalks at the airport.

Now and then he'll take his lunch hour at his desk, and that's when I get to hear just how much he's enjoying that turkey sandwich. Is it Cheetos, or is it Memorex? MMMMM!!

The Whistler, aka Tyrannosaurus Bounce, aka Baron von Munchmas, is actually a pretty nice guy. These little quirks are more comical than anything else. His last job was a sales gig that had him out calling on clients, so he's not used to being cooped up all day long... I honestly think he isn't even aware that he's doing it, so I'm not going to call him out on it.

But so help me... if my stapler goes missing, I'm coming after him first.

The One Where Rachel Starts Her Blog... No, For Real

2010-01-25T20:16:00.002-05:00

Remember that episode of Friends, "The One With All The Resolutions," (season 5, #11) where Rachel resolves to gossip less and swears that she always keeps her resolutions? And Monica TOTALLY punks her out by grabbing the diary Rachel started the New Year's before and reading it aloud to the group?

"Dear Diary, I'm so excited! My resolution is to write in you every day. I'll see you tomorrow!" (fans the pages) "...NOTHING!!"

Yeah. Guilty as charged.

But here we are, after getting through a pantload of changes over the holidays, and now is as good a time as any to get to bloggin'. And of course, now that I've said it out loud on the interwebs, I have to stick to it.

Be warned: the Rachel Greene references? I've got a million of 'em. The way I see it: they used my name, I'm totally gonna bogart her scripted wit. (*DISCLAIMER: I'm usually witty enough for two - or three - but us real-life Rachels are allowed an off day now and then.)