Tag: Humor

Fashion, Friends, Humor, Shopping July 17, 2009

Stuck In The Closet

“Naked people have little or no influence in society.”
-Mark Twain

Women of the world, raise your voices in the age old cry with me, “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!”

HarpersNothingWear And, melodramatic as it may sound, I genuinely mean it! From the moment I got engaged, my so-called frivolous spending (Frivolous: as if looking good isn’t important. Did none of you endure high school? I spent mine more or less a tragic mess) was sharply curtailed. Money was put towards a new apartment with a significant raise in rent, utilities had to be set up (which generally involved some sort of fee in varying degrees of heftiness), and I had to start putting down payments on everything. My parents paid for the reception which was gorgeous (pictures may or may not be forthcoming, the photographer we used for it did a terrible job. And I’m not saying that facetiously, ask Venice. Bad), but I paid for my gown myself, plus shoes, veil, jewelry, hair, salon time for my bridesmaids and mom, bridesmaids presents, plus extra invitations when we discovered we didn’t have enough. All that means much less money to spend on food, frolic, and fashion than a single girl might be used to.

Which leads me to my current predicament: this has been the first summer I’ve worked a legitimate post-university job. I spent my first two university summers working in Belgium (significantly cooler than the western U.S. desert I’m currently sweltering in) and the next two either taking classes (and therefore in jean and tee shirts) or travelling/visiting my family in England. My student jobs on campus all required me to dress up for work so my wardrobe had a couple pairs of nice trousers, pencil skirts, and nice shirts…all appropriate to an autumn and winter climate. I also have a fair amount of jeans and teeshirts, which I can only wear on weekends now. I have a new reason to long for my student days!

And so, now the many lovely cashmere sweaters I’ve amassed are no good. The carefully-tended-to-make-them-last classic wool trousers are worthless in 90-100 degree weather. Even long sleeves shirts are a heat-exhaustion risk for me because I like my weather much cooler, with more clouds in the sky, and a decent wind blowing, and not even 4+ years in this part of the world has cured me of that. My boots, scarves, hats, dark tights, and coats, fabulous as they are, are simply useless to me until September!

349331010_6151669d3c Women seem to be slightly more at the whim of the vicissitudes of fashion than men. It may just be me, but I’ve observed that our clothing seems to be made of flimsier stuff, which means that we either need to A) replace it often as it wears out, which costs us more, or B) have a large enough wardrobe to begin with so that we can rotate clothing so no one player gets too much time in the field. This also requires not only money, but time, and planning! And, even though I’m getting better, putting outfits together is not a skill that comes effortlessly to me. My fabulous and talented friend Janssen over at Everyday Reading has an equally fabulous and talented sister who spent a couple of months showing her daily outfits on her blog, sadly she’s not doing it anymore because I got some really good ideas from it (along with bouts of mind mangling jealousy). And this girl occasionally makes lots of her own amazing clothing! Oh mother, how do I now regret those basic sewing lessons I scorned in my youth!

Of course it’s currently mid-July, so summer won’t be lasting much longer, so I should probably suck it up and just continue to rotate my two pairs of lightweight trousers for another month and a half. We’re now starving newlyweds, trying to save enough to get to England to see my family for Christmas. But…but…

Fashion, Humor, Marriage July 9, 2009July 21, 2009

Painting, Pyro-ing, and the Proletariat

“Um, we’re mature enough to be married…honestly…”
-C.

Think impressionism, Pac Man, horribly pretentious comments about class structure (on the part of starving newlywed/students), peacocks, pyrotechnics, possibly a little lawbreaking don’t mix? You’ve clearly never been on a group date with Venice, Val, J., and C.

Last night we went to Color Me Mine, stayed there until 9 when we got kicked out, at which time we hit up the “lower income” (quote by J.) supermarket that recently opened in the area that sells nearly expired products at discount for some ice cream…but on our way back to pay for it, what should we spy but fireworks.

Editor's Note: Not done by Venice, Val, J., or C. No one in our pyro party are nearly as impressive as this.

We really had no other option than to buy some. Really, none. It was imperative. Venice and I loaded up our arms with sparklers while the guys practically dove into the bins trying to find the best, er, bang for their buck. This was discovered in the form of an explosive intriguingly labeled the “Jumping Cyber Monkey” (the boys faces lit with unholy glee, you should have seen it).

Then we scurried back home to hold bunches of sparklers and light them at the same time (I nearly died), frolick around twirling them, light off the Jumping Cyber Monkey (which made a little more noise than anticipated towards the end) while Venice did her signature dance move in front of it (which is indescribable…truly), and round off the evening by lighting “worms” (which look like nothing so much as flaming, growing poop) while we giggled.

Like I said. We’re responsible, mature adults. Really.

Drama, Humor, Weird June 25, 2009

Trojan Horse

“I can always tell which is the front end of a horse, but beyond that, my art is not above ordinary.”
-Mark Twain

A new horror! I go to the gym everyday and there’s a girl who works the front counter there. Since we see a lot of each other we’ve struck up a sort of friendship: I tell her the dramatic goings on of a police department, she tells me the ridiculous tales of a gym. The other day she asked me how far off the wedding was and when I told her, “Next week,” she got a dark look on her face and said, “Stay away from horses.”

“Why?” I asked intrigued.
“My family keeps horses and I’ve ridden all my life. So I was out riding a couple of weeks before my wedding and when I was taking off its tack when I was done it kicked me in the head.”
My jaw dropped.
“I was in a coma for three months,” she continued, “and had to do months of physical therapy when I woke up. We got married after all that, though.”

Completely at a loss for what to say to that (“Crikey?” “Good on ‘ya?” “Congratulations on being currently upright?”) I just mumbled, “Wow…” She waved me off to the weight room cheerfully, “I’m sure that won’t happen to you! See you tomorrow!”

Drama, Humor, Wedding June 22, 2009June 25, 2009

Sitting Waiting Wishing

“I’m finalizing everything this week so I can spend the weekend panicking uninterrupted.”
-C.

Yes. I am painfully aware of ny neurosis, thanks. — Yes. I am painfully aware of my neurosis, thanks.

Good grief, I’m getting married in nine days…and worst of all, mostly everything is done! I get to make a million and one confirmation phone calls this week, and then sit around twiddling my thumbs and waiting for everything to come crashing spectacularly down.

Any second now J. is going to awaken to his danger and take off running. My immediate and extended family will decide not to show up…or they will, and get into a huge fight culminating in a salad slinging war throughout the luncheon site. The florist will die of swine flu and they’ll send her final creations to her funeral in tribute instead of the reception. My family’s luggage will tumble out of the plane halfway between London and Chicago. Mika (my loveably but hyperactive dog) will sneak her way into a suitcase and reduce my gown to shreds in her excitement. There will be an awful gas leak at the salon which, thanks to the oceans of hair spray that are going into my, Mama, Snickers, Venice, Marie, and Peregrine’s hair, will result in a doubly horrific explosion when a stylist goes outside for a ciggy break. One of J.’s exes will kidnap me to prevent the nuptials (seriously, could happen. Our department is running security on an wedding that’s happening on campus for this very reason). I’ll stumble groggily to the car way too early in the morning to go get my hair done and halfway to the city realize I’ve forgotten everything. The wedding license will spontaneously combust. Despite all my careful working out and eating, I’ll wake up the day of so plumped up with stress that my dress will pop open at the seams when we try to force me into it. I’ll trip going down the stairs at my flat and end up in a bodycast and with a mouthful of broken teeth (this one is actually most likely…).

Though ludicrous, and yes I do realize they are, these are real fears. But I’m not alone. Yesterday both Darling and Mama gave me slightly more realistic-but no less-terrifying possibilities to consider: my family’s luggage could not arrive (never mind being left at Heathrow!), and everyone could come down with food poisoning! J.’s family, on his mother’s orders, will probably be eschewing all restaurants ‘twixt now and then, and I’ll be popping vitamin C likes it’s candy to ward off the cold several helpful and loving friends insist is coming (you jerks!).

Family, Friends, Humor, Scandalous June 16, 2009June 17, 2009

When It Rains, It Showers

“Arrange food, wine, and a sit-down orgy for fourteen.”
-A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

Let me recommend Parties by Venice, Inc. for your next soiree! In spite of a torrential downpour, the girl threw me an absolutely fab bridal shower: almost everyone invited came, the food was delicious, and the games were fun (as opposed to the usual shower games that make the victims want to set fire to their obligatory toilet paper dresses).

The presents were absolutely scandalous (loved ’em) and, as you see, did not result in my demise at the hands of his shocked relatives! In addition to silk and lace, I also got a funny slip with sheep all over it from Marie (a tribute to our sheep-infested trip to Notherumberland last summer), a cookbook from Darling (presumably to aid in the feeding of her son), and an IRON! Which marks a huge step in my career as an adult, seeing as I’ve gone five years without one by relying on friends’ and bringing my clothes into the bathroom with me to shower. Marvelous!

All in all, this shower was a great improvement over the last time someone tried to give me lingerie! The summer before I went away to university, my family and I were travelling around, visiting our extended family and we stayed a week with my grandmother who is an…interesting person. Well, one day she took me aside and said she had a present for me and led me into her room where she pulled something out of a drawer.
“You’re going to be meeting all sorts of people and boyfriends at school, so you probably need something a little sexy.”
I felt my eyes bug, but was too deep in shock to stop what was happening. Grandma whipped out what can only loosely be described at lingerie and I nearly choked.

A little too close to the article in question for comfort. Seriously. No, seriously! — A little too close to the article in question for comfort. Seriously. No, seriously.

It looked like something Shirley Temple would wear! Gathered at the neck, the SHEER material fell in pleats to the waist and the bottoms looked like the decorative cover one puts over a baby’s diaper. It was obviously old (and previously owned…by my grandmother…gah…) and a faded shade of grayish pink which only added to the horror. Easily the most disturbing thing I’d ever been forced into contact with.
“Now,” Grandma began, “when two people are dating and like each other–”

I bolted from the room sputtering and collapsed on the couch by my parents laughing. Later I think my mother tactfully informed her that the, er, inter-personal aspect of my adolescent education was something they had covered, thanks very much, and it wasn’t exactly her place to give me The Talk at eighteen. Much less encourage wanton promiscuity, seeing as I was going to a conservative, religiously funded school. My grandmother got offended.

Family, Humor, Wedding June 12, 2009June 12, 2009

Horrors!

“Calm me down. Tell me I should buy the croissants instead of make them!”
“Holy mother of baking…buy the croissants, woman and don’t be ridiculous! You’re throwing a small shower not a presidential ball, I forbid you to bake a single french pastry!”
-Venice and C.

Venice is throwing me a bridal shower tomorrow…J.’s mom and sister are coming…and all of my friends have been asking me my lingerie sizes. If I never post again it is because I have either A) died of humiliation, or B) been killed by his affronted family!

At least we’ll die well-fed! Venice just called me at work to confess she’s gone overboard with the cupcakes (red velvet of course) and has dozens. But when I said, “Yeah! More for us!” she came back quickly with, “Wedding in less than three weeks. Dress, dear.” She is such a good friend.

Drama, Humor, Work June 11, 2009

Pantsgate 2009

“Mws. Venice, I can’t find my pants anywah!”
-one of her students who can’t pronounce his R’s

Having finally let go of (most of) my rage about the incident I am about to relate, let me share the tale of The Brotherhood of the Traveling Pants.

No couture involved! The Devil wears police uniforms!

One of my less enviable jobs is doing the laundry for the department. When I first started we were with a company that picked up and delivered our stuff as part of their service, which we loved. However over time we found their service also included the smashing of zippers, losing of uniforms, discoloration of the same (most memorably turning some silver patches a most ungentlemanly shade of pink), and dishonesty about accounts…all of which served to outweigh the convenience of delivery. After various warnings, cajoling, and threats, we switched to a new dry cleaner.

With tolerance for laundry mistakes at an all time low, I honestly expected some officers to be annoyed with longer-than-usual turnarounds, etc., during the switch. I did not expect that Lt. South would come to me about clothing that was missing almost immediately. This happened three weeks ago…and instantly the scandal took over my work life!

Without fail, three times a week South lectured me about locating their clothes before we staggered out the door burdened with laundry baskets. Then off to the cleaners with Hennessy where we were lectured on how they are a model of integrity, business acumen, whatever…but still unable to find the missing items. Back to the office to be subjected to scorn for failing to find four shirts and three pants (because the loss of those items by the individuals or the cleaners is clearly my fault). Cue the Chief and Lt. Figaro both taking me diplomatically aside to urge me towards “better efforts” in finding the articles. Week 2 rolled around and we escalated to South going down to the cleaners, to bully them into finding his pants I suppose, and the cleaners immediately seeing this as antagonistic (no idea why) chose to punish me and Hennessy with ever louder defenses. We were ordered to carry increasingly vicious responses back and forth and adequately punished by both sides for thm…a double case of Shoot the Messenger. According to their records, South’s pants had been signed, sealed, and delivered.

Honestly, I believed the cleaners. I’m convinced that half of the lost/misplaced problems we had with our last cleaners were purely officer operator error. The guys wouldn’t label their things, or just do it improperly, find items that didn’t belong to them but neglect to turn them in, and never failed to whine to their lowly secretaries when a problem arose that us girls literally had no control over.

By week three I was so sick of the heckling, whining, and lecturing that I yanked Lt. Colossus head out from where it was buried in the sand and flat out ordered him to get us a master key to go through all the lockers in case any of the missing clothes had managed to find their way into them. Sure enough, one pair of pants had meandered into Lt. Citrus’ shirts…the which he entirely neglected to mention even though Wise sent out two emails asking any unclaimed or unknown stuff to be turned into us.

That left two. I spent nearly twenty minutes talking the cleaners off their Righteous Anger ledge with Hennessy before we trudged back to the office emptyhanded again yesterday.
“Well?” demanded South as we stumbled into the office laden with laundry not belonging to him.
“No luck,” I said, “They’ve asked you to call them so they can work out restitution–”
“They can call one of you, that’s what you girls are for,” he rolled his eyes.
I could have gleefully disemboweled him with a hanger!

AND THEN! This morning, Susie came up to me as I was giving a pants update to Aims and Sport.
“You’ll never guess,” she breathed almost maliciously.
“You’ve found them!” I gasped.
“South did…in his home closet.”

Small Dog wants to lay some HURT on!!!!!!

I felt my face drain in anger. I’d spent three weeks getting abused by my supervisor, lectured by my boss, barked at by our dry cleaner, dragging my friends an co-workers into it, being slapped in the face with my own lowly station as a secretary maliciously and repeatedly, and forced into the roll of Resident Wench On Behalf of the Entire Department. I’d spent several hours delivering laundry, trying to ameliorate irrationally angry people, and leading a witch hunt for pants thieves…only to find that the man who had started it had FAILED TO LOOK IN HIS OWN CLOSET? Moreover had failed at any point in the last month to check and see if he already had the items, convienently marked “Delivered?”

Apparently my wrath has an effect. After trying to joke once about how the last three weeks “gave me something to do” and being met with my evilest of vicious stares, he hasn’t been seen in the front office all day. In fact he’s been using the back hall to get around instead. Good.

Humor, Life, School, Work June 10, 2009November 29, 2011

Pondering

“I have never let schooling interfere with my education.”
-Mark Twain

Realizing that I’m about to brand myself a hopeless nerd, I have to admit I am horribly jealous that J. gets to go back to school this fall. This is really the first autumn in nearly twenty years that I’m not going to be in school (I don’t count last year’s because I was still whirling from the dizzying feeling of freedom) and it’s a little odd to realize how sad I am over the thought.

I really loved school, especially university where I got to immerse myself in a topic for months at the time and come out feeling like I really did know something about the subject. I got to study things I genuinely loved and had an interest in, so major projects and papers were seldom a chore (unless I procrastinated horribly).

And believe it or not, I’m wretched over the idea of not buying armloads of books this fall! Maybe those of you who currently attend my Alma Mater are stretching your eyes incredulously over such a lapse in financial judgement, but unlike lots of my friends I seldom had to eat Ramen for a month in order to pay for my books. The majority of my classes relied on novels, primary sources, history books, anthologies of writings from every conceivable century, essays, etc. and I absolutely refused to sell most of them back to the campus bookstore (except for one semester when I was well and truly starving and had to sell back a book on classical Greek civilization from the earliest city-states through the Persian Wars. I nearly cried, and when I saw how little I was going to get back for it – compared to what I’d originally paid – I nearly abandoned the plan…but I needed food).

I was talking to MyFavorite a while back and when he asked me what it’s like working full time instead of being in school, I told him all of the above. We also discussed the oddness of being in charge of one’s own continuing education. Lots of people seem to finish school and never tax their brain again, I live in fear of mine starting to atrophy! I swear the process has already started! It takes effort to get home from work, cook, clean, manage bills, make future plans, and still pull out a book instead of turn on the TV. Instead of someone else teaching me, I’m entirely responsible for what goes into my head from here on out.

Frost wasn't entirely correct, it's more like "Two million roads diverging-" at times.

In that same vein, it’s not just the stimulation I miss about school, it’s also the framework university sort of set up for life. Each semester had a distinct beginning, middle, and end so you always felt as if you were actively moving through life instead of just being pushed along by the current. Now, instead of this handy, cyclical way to make a year pass, post-graduate life by comparison seems like one long line stretching off into the distance.

That seems depressing…I don’t mean it to be, but it’s the best metaphor I can find. What I mean to say is that instead of having an Outside Force set up my life’s structure and passage of time, I’m now the only person who can do that. If there are to be any interesting breaks, sideshows, or detours in that long line, I’m the person who must take the prerogative of creating/finding/following them. And while the adventure of doing so is almost always fantastic, sometimes I do miss having that Outside Force doing it for me because I feel (looking back) that being ignorant of that Force meant I could simply live life and enjoy the ride. It’s no simple thing to be almost entirely in charge of your own destiny!

*Image (C) by Martin Liebermann, http://www.martin-liebermann.de, original found here http://www.flickr.com/photos/liebermann/580181284/

Humor June 8, 2009June 8, 2009

Gender. Confusion.

“I think so many people around here rush into marriage because they’re told not to have sex until they’re married and they’re desperate.”
“Definitely. Or they think marriage is their only option and it just doesn’t make sense to say ‘no’ if they have the opportunity.”
“…I think we may be looking at this through our gender perspectives here…”
-J. and C.

Last night J. came down from the city and as soon as he walked in the door I declared, “I’ve engaged us for the evening! Margot’s having a Tony Awards party at her house. Angel’s coming and she’s bringing her husband so you’ll have someone to make fun of us with.”
“But-but-” he gestured at the TV desperately, “NBA finals!”
“Oh, ok, you don’t have to come, but I’d like to go even just for a little while.”
“It’s ok,” he said quickly, “I can come if you want me to.”
“No worries, you don’t have to unless you want to.”

I could see the inner debate starting to rage: tell her what she wants to hear vs. the truth and possibly get hurt and have to spend hours/days doing penance.

menwomen Now, here’s the thing, I’ve never been A Girl about this sort of thing. Ever. Not the entire time we’ve been dating or even with any previous boyfriends. I am not going to drag a guy along to something he hates merely to be beautifully cruel and powerful, not only is it rude but nobody has a good time. So when I saw him struggling, I burst out laughing,
“You seem confused.”
“Well, yeah!” he said.
“You’re not getting punished, I’m not going to be bitter, and I’m not fishing for a right answer.”
The look on his face quite clearly said, This does not compute, so I just grabbed by bag and headed out the door saying cheerfully, “See you in an hour!”
Later when I asked him why after well over a year he’s still expecting me to suddenly turn evil he insisted, “Because someday, when I least expect it, I just know you’re going to get me with this one!”

It’s not the paranoia that offends me, it’s the lack of faith!

Family, Humor, Marriage, Wedding, Weekend June 1, 2009

Crunch Time…Can Wait!

“Oh how I love the crazy hedonism of weekends!”
-Calvin and Hobbes, Bill Watterson

We’re officially one month away from the wedding. Weird. J. and I spent saturday with his mother Darling going over everything for the luncheon, being dragged all over the site, made to debate the merits of table linens and centerpieces, and having to decide on a desert (we ended up picking two) until I was sure J. was about to claw his ears off so he wouldn’t have to listen to anymore. And frankly the luncheon is his parents’ party, they are paying for it, so if she wants to do the whole thing in barbie pink and fairy sparkles I’ll (grit my teeth but) not say a word!

Sunday I flouted my nutritionists (aka Venice and Miyagi) because Fairy threw me a birthday party! I ate two pieces of red velvet cake, stuffed myself on GS’s famous fruit salsa, accidental made Elle cry (SORRY!), and took lots of food home with me to continue ruining my eating plan with! Then I spent four hours gossiping with Fairy after everyone else had left before heading home, gorging myself on BBC and another half of cake, and heading to bed way too late. In other words, a great weekend.

Of course, with only a month to go that means we have at least one major project a week. Gifts have started flowing in, we’re having pictures taken on wednsday, we have to finalize guest counts for all the functions, figure out to get the out-of-towners (basically anyone related to me) around town, convince some of my other relatives (who are legitimately round the twist) to even come…sigh. Getting married, not for the feint of heart!

Small Dog Syndrome