Archive for the 'I Only Allow Pointless Crap To Infest My Brain' Category

One Word Answers

Where were you 10 years ago?
College.

Where will you be 10 years from now?
Shrug.

What were you like at 10 years old?
Tomboy.

Do you know any 10 year olds?
Yep.

If you found $10, what would you buy?
Magazines.

If you arrived someplace 10 minutes early, what would you do to pass the time?
Text.

What is something you do ten times a day?
Masturbate.

What is something you haven’t done in ten years?
Gin.

What is something you don’t want to do for another ten years?
Canada.

If you had 10 hours to yourself, what would you do?
Sleep.

If you had 10 people ask you out for a date on the same night, how would you decide who to pick?
Biggest.

What woman do you consider a 10?
Giada.

What man do you consider a 10?
Duh.

Something New

So one of my New Year’s resolutions (aside from go to the gym get in shape eat vegetables be organized buy less makeup don’t roll in at 3 AM don’t sleep with someone just because my pants are off just kidding) is to do something new every day. People hear this and go, “Ooh!” And then, immediately, “So, what have you done so far?” Um. Well…

I’m starting on Monday, of course! Just like I’ll be starting going to the gym getting in shape eating vegetables being organized buying less makeup not rolling in at 3 AM, etc. Ahh, Monday, always just a few short days away, allowing you the luxury to do whatever you want right now with the promise to yourself that you’ll turn it around as soon as the weekend is over. I think I’ve vowed to get my act together every Monday since I was twelve.

Really though, I like the idea of doing something new every day, if only for the blogging opportunities it will present. Although I have a bad feeling that it’ll be less “went to Thailand” and more “licked my clock radio” as I sit around trying to think of something that will count as “new” that day. But we’ll see. So let the newness begin! And maybe the buying less makeup thing.

Nah, fuck that. Makeup is awesome.

2007 (But Really This Time)

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?
I remember a bat in my guest room, and then a bat condo (i.e. Sam Adams box) on my patio because my stupid kindhearted cousin Andrew thought it would be cruel to not provide it with an alternate home. WHAT? Yeah, I think that was in January, and everything that happened after that is pretty much a blur.

2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions?
I think this was a “screw resolutions, just drink” kind of year.

3. What countries did you visit?
Just this one. Boo. I’m patriotic.

4. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
Motivation. Which is the same thing I said a year ago…

5. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
October 28, when the Sox won the world series. Again, bitches!

6. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Winning the Nobel prize.

7. What was your biggest failure?
Misplacing it.

8. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I had strep throat, which was surprisingly sucktastic and laid me up for a few days. I also had a pre-schooler accidentally spill hot tea on my business… my lady business.

9. What was the best thing you bought?
Umm… apparently I didn’t buy anything this year.

10. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I don’t know. Let’s get some fuckin’ French toast.

11. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
People who don’t get the snow off the roofs of their cars and then it turns to ice and flies off at other motorists (i.e. me) in jagged chunks of death.

12. Where did most of your money go?
Condo fee, bills, Fresh City, savings, CVS. Seriously, since this really awesome one opened right near me, somehow I’m there like every day. It’s just so PRETTY. Maybe I should go to more museums or something.

13. What song will always remind you of 2007?
The one about how she dug her keys into the side of his pretty little souped up four wheel drive. Gah, point taken: I will never, ever cheat on Carrie Underwood.

14. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) Happier or sadder? Sadder, but working on it.
b) Thinner or fatter? About the same.
c) Richer or poorer? Richer.

15. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercise.

16. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worrying.

17. How did you spend Christmas?
I was with my family.

18. Did you fall in love in 2007?
Yeah.

19. How many one-night stands?
Oh, you know me.

20. What was your favorite TV program?
How about the ones I don’t like? I don’t like anything scary or violent, so basically all the shows that just have letters as titles, which always surprises people because I guess I don’t seem like a delicate buttercup, but I AM. I own my lame TV taste… I mean, I still miss Felicity and Providence. And Sisters! Okay, so I really like The Office, How I Met Your Mother and The Hills. I never think to watch any of the HBO shows and even though everyone and their brother told me to watch Arrested Development, I still haven’t. I don’t know, I never keep up with a show every week, I always end up watching some crap on VH1 reading the works of Stephen Hawking.

21. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
No.

22. What was the best book you read?
Eat Pray Love.

23. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I like Coconut Records. And Hannah Montana! Come on, she’s spunky and adorable and that music is catchy. I also like that she’s 15 and doesn’t try to look 21, but she’ll probably be anorexic and humping John Mayer by this time next year. Anyway, I also liked both volumes of the Elizabethtown soundtrack. It didn’t come out this year but I “discovered” it this year. Cameron Crowe and his wife, What About Love Don’t You Want Someone To Care About You, have great taste.

24. What did you want and get?
A new digital camera.

25. What did you want and not get?
Mr. Red.

26. What was your favorite film of this year?
I loved Superbad.

27. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 30! I went out with friends and family.

28. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Traveling. I really have no excuse.

29. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Ponytails and t-shirts in the summer and ponytails and sweaters in the winter.

30. What kept you sane?
My friends quite literally kept me sane this year.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Jason Varitek and Seth Rogen.

32. What political issue stirred you the most?
Trying to make sure I say Osama instead of Obama at work because I have a student named Osama, and trying to make sure I say Obama instead of Osama everywhere else, because, well… you know what, this is a very politically incorrect conversation. You should be embarrassed.

33. Who did you miss?
I miss Elusive Jen, who moved away to New York.

34. Who is the best new person you met?
I don’t know. Who did I meet this year? That person at your wedding was nice. I have no idea.

35. Tell us some valuable life lessons you learned in 2007.
Not to let stupid crap ruin a friendship. Not to hate on people who have gerbils even though they are wiggly balls of disgustingness. Not to use phrases like “hate on” because shut up trendypants. Oh, and also, that I can be totally full of shit. I’d always been really exasperated by friends who dated guys who didn’t deserve them… not exasperated by my friends, but by the idea of anyone I loved wasting any amount of time analyzing the whims of a guy who didn’t measure up. And then I fell for a ginormous loser and it’s taken me months to deal with it rationally… and I’m still not, entirely. So I’m humbled and will no longer be dispensing completely logical advice* and then wondering why it’s so hard to follow. I get it now.

*I never dispensed completely logical advice anyway, so it’s not a huge leap.

36. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
Soulja boy off in this hoe
Watch me lean and watch me rock
Super man that hoe
Then watch me crank that Robocop
Super fresh, now watch me jock
Jocking on them haters man
When I do that soulja boy
I lean to the left and crank that thang

I Want To Know What Love Is, But I’m Pretty Sure Not With You

My current soft rock obsession is songs that try to poetically say “I’m not interested in you.” Who writes songs for people they don’t like? Could we bring back this trend? Because it’s hilarious. They’re all like, “I don’t have the heart to love you” or “I’m not so sure where I stand.” Listen, the protocol for not wanting to date someone is typically the cell phone delete or the awkward “Yeah, I know, I’ve just been SO busy at work,” not a tribute song.

My cousin and I amused ourselves over the holiday coming up with an album that will pay tender homage to this dilemma, tentatively titled “I’m Thinking No.” The first single will be “I Don’t Want (To Put My Dick In You),” to the tune of “All I Need (Is Just A Little More Time)” by Jack Wagner. Check it out below and put the lyrics in for yourself. It’s very catchy.

Also, wasn’t this guy on a fucking soap opera or something?

Money To Burn

I should be wrapping presents or doing laundry or God forbid CLEANING MY OFFICE, but, whee, it’s a snow day! Or, really, an ice day.

If you won millions and millions of dollars in the lottery tomorrow, what would you buy?

Not just millions… millions and millions! Now we’re talking. I love this question. I was having lunch the other day with some work people and Supergirl was saying that she and her husband got their ginormous flatscreen HD TV because his old roommate bought it and then turned Buddhist and sold it to them for $500. Why can’t any of my friends turn Buddhist? Because I’ll support your new religious convictions and I will love the crap out of your old stuff.

Okay, first I’d put some in a mutual fund blah blah so that someday my kids can be worthless, lazy and spoiled and end up in rehab before they’re 19. Just kidding! I’d give all the money to my favorite one and tell the rest that Santa Claus isn’t real. And that Daddy drinks because you cry.

Then I’d buy a house. I’m not sure where; someplace suburban with easy access to Boston. All new fixtures, granite, girl cave. I like the idea of having a Sephora in the basement but I’d probably forget to feed the employees periodically, so instead let’s do a sports bar. Well, maybe a step up from a sports bar, because I don’t want a Golden Tee anywhere. Fireplace, big screen TV, stocked bar, and pool table. And a dance floor! Because even if no one else uses it, I know I will. Also, my Star Trek pinball machine from 1986 which is now vintage by default. It’s in pieces in the basement of my parents’ condo because I’ve never had room for it. It gets me lots of geek cred but my dad picked it out; I never actually liked the show.

I’d have a library room, but a hardcore library, like the one that the Beast makes for Belle in Beauty and the Beast. I’m not sure that the word “hardcore” was ever used in that movie.

Then I’d buy a king size bed. When it comes to king size beds, I’m pressed up against the glass at the candy store. I’ve heard about them, and occasionally enjoyed them in hotels, but they remain a creature of mystery to me. When I’ve been in relationships, my favorite thing about them is that I can stretch out my arms and legs and I CAN’T EVEN TELL THAT YOU’RE THERE, THIS IS SO AWESOME! Is that bad? I loved you all, though, I swear.

It’s actually a good thing that I don’t have unlimited money, because it would be like that episode of Friends where Rachel buys everything at Pottery Barn and Phoebe sees the display window and says, “This is our exact living room.” You’d walk into my living room and say, “Is this West Elm?” and then my kitchen and say, “Is this Crate and Barrel?” and then you’d turn to me and say, “For the love of God, Red, your home is a fucking MALL.” And then I’d be sad. And I’d comfort myself by turning my bedroom into Restoration Hardware.

I’d buy a new cell phone that actually WORKS in my home. I’d get one of the ones where you can put pictures of people as the caller ID and when they call it plays a song that reminds you of them. And when a person called who wasn’t in my phone it would play, “Whooooo are you? Who, who?” Actually, maybe I could do all this with my current phone. Never mind about the phone, instead let’s go with season tickets to the Red Sox.

Then I’d quit my job for awhile and travel everywhere: Italy, Ireland, Spain, New Zealand, Albuquerque. And with the domain name that I finally sprung for, I’d blog about all of it, while accompanied on my journey by Jason Varitek, whom I purchased.

Meeting Famous People, Or How I’m Two Degrees Away From Bob Barker

All of my encounters with famous, or semi-famous, people happened in the same week. During my senior year of college we went to Disney World for spring break (I know, but I love roller coasters and water parks and it was an all-around blasty blast). Anyway, one night at Some Crazy Bar I met Drew Carey. I probably wouldn’t have bothered going over to him because the prospect of meeting an old guy on some show I’d never watched wasn’t exactly thrilling, except that my friend and I had just been having a conversation about six degrees of separation and what constitutes a degree and we decided that you’re one degree away from a celebrity if you have a conversation with them. So I had to score my degree.

He was actually just sitting at the bar so I walked up to him and said, “Hi!” He said, “Hi!” Then I said, “Your face is on my bus,” because that, of course, is what you saying immediately upon meeting someone when you’re 21 and drunk in Florida. You see, at the time Drew played a bit part on the Drew Carey Show, and since the show was on ABC and Disney owns ABC, the buses that we had to ride to get around Disney property had ABC people all over there and we had to ride the buses approximately 9,000 times a day so I saw his face approximately 81,000 times a day. It turns out that you can only stay in a hotel on the monorail if you have a tiny bit of extra cash which, when you’re in college, you do not. But I digress.

“My face is on your WHAT?” he asked.

“Your face is on my BUS.” I explained the whole thing.

“Ohhhh. I thought you said my face is on your BUST.”

I started talking to the guy with him, who was all, “I’m on a TV show too.” I didn’t believe him because who would ever say that? I asked him which one and he told me it was about a bunch of people and a pizza place. I was like, “What, Friends? It’s a coffee shop. Get your story straight.” Turned out it was a guy named Ryan Reynolds and he actually WAS on a show called Two Guys, A Girl and a Pizza Place. He was very tall. Still is, I would imagine. He’s also something of a cutiepants. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to accuse him of impersonating David Schwimmer.

Later in the week my friend and I were in line for ice cream at Universal Studios. There was a guy in line ahead of us that people kept coming up to and making a big deal about, asking him for autographs and whatnot. We couldn’t figure out who he was. Remembering that I needed a conversation under my belt in order to get the degree, I poked him and asked what all the fuss was about. He laughed and introduced himself. His name (Thurman Thomas) wasn’t ringing a bell, so he told me he played for the Buffalo Bills. I told him I preferred baseball. He told me he was fine with that, but now I’d have to pay for my own ice cream.

Upon closer examination, I’m realizing that I might be a little rude to famous people. Granted, some have taunted me with the prospect of free frozen treats. Anyway, who have you guys met?

Social Networking Can Lick Me

I just joined MySpace again and I HAVE NO IDEA WHY. My picture is of me giving an unreasonably enthusiastic thumbs up, I admitted to kitchen dancing as a hobby, and the song on my page was written and sung by a friend as an homage to my pants-free adventures in Mexico a few years ago.

I’m sort of refusing to rank people according to how much I like them or how long I’ve known them this time around because there’s something about that that’s akin to knowing exactly what order the people that you know would kill you and eat you if you were ever stranded on a desert island together. Like, I’ll survive longer than her coworkers but if it’s just her sister and her college roommate and me left, I’m ending the night covered in A1 and rotating slowly on a spit. But as a result of not ranking it now looks as though I’m either stalking or just extremely fond of the ubiquitous Tom. I’ll have to take care of that, because it’s a lonely day when Tom is your fake husband.

Odd connections and messages really do abound on MySpace. One time I got a message from a guy I went to high school with who reminded me that when he was a freshman and I was a junior, his older brother drove him to my house around Christmas so that he could give me a stuffed cow as a present, and then I told my friends and they made fun of him. But…but…I was 16! What would you have done? How can you defend yourself at that age? It’s like putting a character from Animal House on the witness stand. “Um, I don’t know. Beer?”

If it helps, he’s married to someone way hotter than me now.

I mean, it’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing how I’ve scarred people, but is all this crap really broadening anyone’s horizons? I don’t need to see that the minx who stole my boyfriend in sixth grade has only improved with age. And I still have yet to find the elusive “activity partner” promised to me long ago by Friendster.

Our friends already know what the hell we’re up to, and people we went to school with 20 years ago don’t really care, so we should really just call these “social networking” websites what they are: a passive-aggressive vehicle for making your life sound extra full and fabulous should an ex of yours ever click through. Our taglines should just be “Game set match, I WIN, biotch.”

Sigh. Maybe I should just pick up a book now and then, huh?