Meme of Threes

It's meme time, because I have to work on Saturday and Sunday, and I need to think about something other than libraries.

I was tagged by Bearette:


Three names I go by:
Liz
My own nickname
My full legal name

Three screen names I have had:
Liz
No others

Three physical things I like about myself:
Hair
Fingernails
Athleticism


Three physical things I don't like about myself:
Wish I didn't sunburn so easily
Paler skin also = circles under eyes when tired
I'm not a person who functions well with little sleep


Three parts of my heritage:
Swiss
German


Three things that scare me:
Death
Serious illness in myself or loved ones
Bad parenting


Three of my everyday essentials:
Burt's Bees lip balm
Neutrogena Norwegian Formula Hand Cream
Oil of Olay SPF 20 face lotion
(can you tell I tend to be a "dry" person?)

Three of my favorite musical artists:
Barenaked Ladies
Aerosmith
Billy Joel
And special pick of the day: Nickelback

Three (ha ha ha) of my favorite songs:

Oooooo, I can't limit to 3. Here are some random ones off the top of my head:

Landslide (Fleetwood Mac)
Hole in the World (Eagles)
In My Life (Beatles)
I Want You Back (Jackson 5)
Our House (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)
Walk This Way (Aerosmith & Run Dmc)
Yeah! (Usher)
A Wink and a Smile (Harry Connick Jr)
Build Me Up Buttercup (the Foundations)
Billy Jean (Michael Jackson)
Walk Like an Egyptian (Bangles)
The Wood Song (Indigo Girls)


Three things I want in a relationship:
Honesty
Laughter
Friendship

Three lies and truths in no particular order:
I have a tattoo
I have a pierced belly button
I would secretly love to live on a farm and raise pygmy goats

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to me:
Kind eyes
Nice smile
Clean

Three of my favorite hobbies:
Reading
Cooking
Hiking

Three things I want to do really badly right now:
Go outside
Eat
Sit in front of a campfire and toast marshmallows

Three Places I want to vacation:
New Zealand
Mexico
Yosemite National Park

Three kid's names I like:
I like names that are a little different. Our neighbor's daughter is named Cassidy, which is pretty. I also like Willow for a girl.

Three things I want to do before I die:
Travel more
Go hang gliding
Feel that I have lived a good life with no regrets


Three ways that I am stereotypically a boy:
Hate shopping. Haaaaaaaaaate.
Don't like fluffy, frilly things around the house
Sometimes leave clothes on the floor

Three ways that I am stereotypically a girl:
Love to cook
Like pretty jewelry
Like getting flowers from my husband

Three celeb crushes:
Jon Bon Jovi
Johnny Depp
Carter Oosterhouse

Two people I would like to see post this meme:
Cole
Frema

Holy Hell

This year, my parents live in Florida.

This year, my brother and sister live in Brooklyn.

This year, our house is conveniently located between those two places.

This year I said, “We don’t want to travel anywhere for Thanksgiving, so anyone who wants to can come stay with us! We’ll make margaritas! Hee!”

Because the only thing better than hosting 14 people is hosting 14 intoxicated people.

This year, I must have lost my mind.

A few days ago I sent my husband a confusing email that mentioned my aunt and uncle’s plan to visit my parents, and for a few heart-pounding minutes he thought my aunt and uncle were going to visit my parents at our house.

So, he typed, we might have 16? Well, the more the merrier. Heh heh.

Heh?

HELL NO. I wrote back. WE ARE NOT INVITING ANYONE ELSE. IF ANYONE ELSE COMES WE WILL TURN OFF THE LIGHTS AND HIDE BEHIND THE COUCH.

Oh, good. You almost made me COL.

Huh?

Cry out loud.


I can’t wait to have everyone over, but I might need some divine assistance. I knew I should have gotten myself blessed when Alex did.

To Parent, or Not to Parent?

This is the eternal question. For some of us, anyhow. Married women age 20 to late 40’s (thanks, Geena Davis!) cannot escape the question that comes from perfect strangers, co-workers, and family members alike:

“When are you going to have kids?”

There are other variations, of course. When you’ve been married over 5 years like me and all you have to show for it is a dog who thinks he’s human, you might hear, “So, don’t you want to have real children?”

Or,

“So you don’t like kids, huh?”

When hubby and I were newlyweds we couldn’t call any of his extended family members without hearing a sharp intake of air on the other end.


Hubby: Hi grandma, it’s me.

Grandma: Gasp!

Hubby: Liz isn’t pregnant.

Grandma: Oh.


They’ve given up by now, methinks. Hubby’s brother and his wife made endless fun of us two years ago when we sent a Christmas card that included a picture of ourselves holding the dog up between us. When we went to visit, there it was on the mantel, surrounded by pictures of their friends’ “real” families. I heard second-hand that my sister-in-law said to hubby, “Don’t worry, Liz will change her mind one day.”

I don't know that I ever truly had my mind made up at all.

Growing up, I was never a girl who longed to be a mother. I babysat and worked with kids all the time, for pay and for free, so it had nothing to do with not liking children. I just never felt the urge to have my own. And until recently it’s felt like I had all the time in the world to be ambivalent about it. Geena Davis and others have proven that the clock ticks a lot longer than it used to, but I think at that age I’d rather be dreaming of early retirement, rather than changing diapers.

We had an interesting experience last summer. We had just arrived in Mexico for a vacation and I wasn’t feeling quite right. I can’t really explain it. I felt tired, almost like I was in someone else’s body. I woke up the first morning and suddenly remembered that over the last two weeks I had vomited a couple of times for no good reason.

After I peeled myself off the ceiling, I told hubby, “Don’t freak out, but I have to tell you something. I don’t know for sure, but...”

For the first day I think we both looked like Alex does in my avatar: wide-eyed and nervous. This had not been in the plans. But as we slowly got used to the possibility, we found ourselves feeling amazed and excited.

This parenting thing, I remembered thinking, we could do it!

Then, on the day we were going to fly home, there was blood and a lot of abnormal cramping.

When I called the 24-hour nurse hotline upon returning home, I described my symptoms. The nurse was kind. She read from a script that said, “You may have been pregnant, and you may have suffered a miscarriage. You should know that if you have suffered a miscarriage, it is not your fault….”

I took a pregnancy test a couple of days later, just to be sure. Only one line.

We were a little sad. We still thought about it over the next few months. I thought about how we had both moved a little in our placement on the child-rearing readiness scale.

A little bit. I am not saying that I’m ready yet.

Because last night, when I was really tired? I was really glad that I could drift off to sleep without worrying about anyone else. And when hubby and I decided that we’d like to go to Mexico again next summer? We knew we wouldn't have to arrange care for anyone but the dog. We can go out when we want to. We can have quiet evenings. I don’t have to lock my cabinets, or put the soap out of reach, or clean handprints and spaghetti sauce off the walls.

Let’s just say I am keenly aware that parenthood is not all roses and Johnson & Johnson commercials.

But more and more I feel that those inconveniences are not as staggering as they used to seem. So one day, if the scale tips significantly in the direction of “Totally Willing to Make All Sacrifices, Gladly!”, then we’ll know we’re ready.

The possibility of that happening seems more real now.

Of course, you can’t always account for surprises. But here’s hoping that this time in Mexico, I can enjoy a margarita and toast whatever the future may bring.

Cheers!

Hail Alex, Full of Grace...

Watch it, Satan, my dog is now a holy force to be reckoned with.

Alex was blessed by a priest at a Blessing of the Animals:





Note to Alex: now that you're all holy and all, absolutely NO MORE KENNEL HUMPING IS ALLOWED.

Over the Rivers and Through the Pancake Houses...

… to Williamsburg We Go!



Last week I had to attend a conference in Williamsburg, Virginia, and hubby went with me. This meant that Alex was treated to several days at the Lap of Luxury, where he apparently and very suddenly felt the need to assert his dominance by humping every dog in sight, from Bichon Frise to Labrador, thereby earning the dubious nickname of “Humpmaster”.

We were baffled when they told us, because Alex has never displayed this kind of behavior before. At the dog park he’s usually a victim of random humping since he’s small.

When we arrived to pick him up we awaited the usual glowing praise about how cuddly and sweet and social our little boy is. But what they said is, “Whooooo, boy! Something has gotten into Alex!”

The kennel’s owner showed us his information sheet, which normally contains notes about his feeding schedule, emergency contact numbers, etc. Except this time at the bottom it said in huge, black letters:

MUST BE WATCHED!
HUMPER!


I know, I know. Dogs will be dogs, and this is not sexual behavior, it’s about establishing dominance.

But. I. Was. Mortified.

My wittle baby? A chronic humper?

They assured us that they still love him as much as ever, and they correct him immediately when he does it, and it really isn’t a big deal, but I got a taste of what it must feel like to have a school or daycare tell you that your child has a behavioral “issue”.

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.


Anyhow, back to Williamsburg. Let me tell you—people in historic Williamsburg love their pancakes and waffles with total unabashed passion. There are so many of them, and they are so close together, that you could literally walk from one to the other, all day long, eating bread and syrup, syrup and bread. I was almost crying from laughing so hard, but of course that didn’t prevent me from snapping pictures to present to you as evidence:



The original? Maybe it dates back to the 18th century! And please, don't mess with Mama Steve, for godssakes.





Keep in mind that some of the shots didn’t come out well, and I couldn’t get the ones on the other side of the street. But I kid you not—there are at least 10 within two miles of each other. IHOP, don't show your face in this town, baby!


Williamsburg also has many Christmas stores:





And many shops that sell colonial hats, gourmet cheese, expensive trinkets, and fake muskets.

Now, if I had only taken the camera to the conference social so you could see forty librarians drinking wine and dancing to I Like Big Butts, that would be the icing on the photo essay cake.

Too bad I have such a pesky conscience. ;-)

I Am the Margarita

You Are a Margarita

You aren't just the life of the party, you are the party! You mix a good drink, bust out some great music, and know how to get down.

What Mixed Drink Are You?

Thanks, Lisa!

I love margaritas, and I make a good one, but I wouldn't say I'm the life of the party. I'm usually more like the caterer and bartender. ;-)

And in between margaritas I have been doing a lot of reading. Recently I have finished or started:

White House Nannies, by Barbara Kline
If you liked The Nanny Diaries, you might like this nonfiction work. It's written by the head of a nanny agency used by hoity-toity Washington DC dwellers.

The Namesake, by Jhumpa Lahiri
A wonderful book. I was so sad when I was finished. I also loved her collection of short stories, The Interpreter of Maladies, which won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Looooove this author. Can't wait for her to write more.

Middlesex: A Novel, by Jeffrey Eugenides
Another book I was hoping would never end. It's a really spellbinding tale of a Greek-American family through the generations. Won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Eugenides also wrote the Virgin Suicides...

Goodnight Nobody, by Jennifer Weiner
Waaaahhh! That's all I can say after not making it past chapter 3 of this book. I loved all of Weiner's previous books, but I am not into mysteries. I am very, very, very disappointed. I had to resort to reading TV Guide while I was at my conference last week. Is anyone else put off by her newest, or is it just my anti-mystery bone getting in the way?

A Wedding in December, by Anita Shreve
I haven't started this one yet, but I should have time now that I am returning Weiner's book early. Sometimes I like Shreve's books, and sometimes they're a little too... reachy. Is that a word?

Pictures from my conference coming soon... they are stunning.

HINT: If breakfast is your favorite meal of the day and you're not on a low-carb diet, this photo essay will be for YOU.

All About Boobs

I've been too busy to post for a while, so despite suffering from writer's block I really wanted to post something today. Luckily I was inspired by Lisa's blog when I read her bra entry. It got me thinking about boobs, and I realized that I might have a few things to say about them. So folks, I have some thoughts on boobs, and then I will present you with hubby's Affair List.

Lisa, I feel your pain where quadraboob is concerned. For those who don't know, the phenomenon known as "Quadraboob" occurs when the tops of the cups are too low and/or tight against the breasts, causing an unfortunate bulging. It looks as though you have two regular boobs, and then two little Mini Me's trying to escape from the top.

I think this tends to happen most often when you have natural breasts, as opposed to the implants, which seem to Refuse To Be Squished Or Moved In Any Way. Although the concept of FOUR breasts instead of two may seem exciting to some males, let me assure you that Quadraboob is not attractive, especially when wearing those Perfect Fit tees from Old Navy.

My sister and I were always battling Quadraboob, as well as its evil cousin, Uniboob. "Uniboob" is the unfortunate phenomenon in which the two boobs appear to be one long boob (usually caused by cupless sports bras). It's actually defined in Urban Dictionary, so rest assured that it must be real (but who's been lazing on the Quadraboob entry?). To prevent Uniboob, I wear this bra when I go to my classes at the gym. It's awesome, because when I'm wearing it The Girls Do Not Move.

That makes me happy.

To prevent Quadraboob, one must typically limit herself (or himself) to full-coverage bras, which are Not As Exciting to assorted bed partners, even when they are lacy and in pretty colors. Or, the victim must search far and wide for the perfect demi or triangle that holds the girls in place while not mashing them or letting them escape too easily.

This is not easy. I have spent many frustrating hours in dressing rooms from Neiman Marcus to Victoria's Secret, cursing and sobbing and wondering when are they going to make a push-button release for these things, already?

(And all the men say: AMEN)

The women in my family are well-endowed. Strangely enough, these generous endowments were bestowed upon women who are pretty thin. I actually had a co-worker say to me once, "You know, I've never seen anyone so skinny with such big boobs!"

At which point I choked on my lunch. Then I swallowed. Then I began listing my family members' bra sizes, from Grandma on down, because I felt the need to prove that I am 100% certified.

"So you see, it's genetic! I've never had plastic surgery. Nope! Not me! Do you want me to draw my family tree for you? Here's Big Heidi, who came over from Switzerland, and yes, she was called "big" for a reason..."

For frame of reference, I am a 34C, and I normally wear size 2-4 in clothing. I guess that's a little mismatched, but I didn't have much to to with it. And in a statement that is sure to drive crazy those women who have always longed to be bigger, I have always longed to be smaller.

Why do we always want what we don't have?

• Because developing so early was embarrassing.
  
• Because I like to be looked in the eye when I'm talking to someone.
  
• Because I wish I could wear those spaghetti strap tanks that have built-in shelf bras.
  
• Because it was impossible for me to find a bikini that fit me both on the top and the bottom, until Victoria's Secret started selling the pieces separately, with the tops in bra sizes (which I totally thought of when I was twelve, so I COULD have been a billionaire if I'd been smarter. Darn.)

So, yeah. Boobs.

I guess I had more to say about them than I thought.


And now for Hubby's List, which I just got from his lawyer today:

1) Sheryl Crow
2) Debra Messing
3) Emily Procter
4) Emma Caulfield
5) TBA

His list used to be almost 100% redhead/auburn (hello, Roma Downey and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman!), but AHEM, I had to protest one of them since hubby could practically be her father. The list is getting blonder and blonder, so I am feeling more secure. Heh.

Updates to my list coming soon, because holy cow, how could I forget Johnny Depp?

*smacks forehead*

The Affair Addendum

(Bearette, is this legally binding? Please advise. Bon Jovi is coming to DC in December)


"It is hereby established that LIZ and HUBBY are in mutual agreement that the sanctity of marriage should be upheld and celebrated. LIZ and HUBBY agree that they will remain husband and wife until death does they part , until death do part them, until one of them bites it.

"Each vows to uphold the promise that was solemnly made in front of 120 friends, family members, and assorted drunken dates to remain true to the other for all of their days, but thouest shall remember that Liz asked the officient to remove the "obey" bullshit, so yes they will respect each other but not OBEY, with the exception of situations in which death or severe injury is imminent, for example if LIZ were about to run into the path of an oncoming cement truck and HUBBY yelled, "STOP!", then in that case it is fine and lawful to expect LIZ to obey.

"In so much as they uphold and celebrate the sanctity of marriage, let it be known that this has not rendered LIZ and HUBBY completely blind to those around them, the result being that they have a deep appreciation not only for each other, but for several members of the questionable group known as CELEBRITIES.

"Therefore, LIZ and HUBBY herefore wherefore do wish to AMEND their wedding vows to make a teeny-weeny exception for certain members of the CELEBRITY group. A CELEBRITY is hereby defined as anyone who meets all of the following requirements: 1) employs an agent, personal trainer, or bodyguard 2) has appeared in People magazine, and 3)has hosted, had a cameo on, or been the butt of a joke on either Saturday Night Live or MAD TV.

"LIZ or HUBBY may enjoy a FLING with any CELEBRITY listed on their respective lists. Said FLING will be defined as unlimited enjoyment of the CELEBRITY for a period of time that shall not exceed 24 hours. Only one CELEBRITY may be enjoyed at a time. Said enjoyment may not be obtained by LIZ or HUBBY via blackmail, extortion, or exchange of money, goods, or services.

LIZ and HUBBY may not impersonate anyone else or attempt to hide obvious physical flaws or character defects. CELEBRITY must submit to fling willingly and with some amount of enthusiasm, however meager.

A 48-hour waiting period applies to any and all changes to the CELEBRITY lists.

We the undersigned do so solemnly swear:

Liz
Hubby


My list:

1) Jon Bon Jovi
2) Carter Oosterhouse
3) Joe Perry
4) Lenny Kravitz
5) TBD

I am looking for suggestions for slot #5. Please submit your recommendations.

And as for hubby's list? I'll have to wait until I get the updated version from his lawyer.

Rain, Rain, stay a little longer, won't you?

We've had non-stop rain since Thursday night. This usually throws me for a loop, as dark, dreary days have been known to depress me. But it's been so long since we've had good, soaking rain, I can't complain. All the brown areas outside are starting to turn green again. My plants are very happy. The bell peppers on my pepper plants seemed to turn red overnight, although I know it's technically the sun that produces the color change. I just like to imagine that everything is happy to get a drink.

Yesterday I went to get my hair cut. The woman I go to is named CeCe and she's 45 minutes away (with no traffic), but it's worth the drive. She's more than just a hair stylist. She's practically a part of the family, since she also cuts my husband's hair, my mother-in-law's hair, and whenever she's in town, my sister-in-law's. CeCe is a bibliophile, so we always have interesting conversations about her current reads. Lately she's been reading up on ancient Rome and the gladiators, so I told her my husband would bring our pictures from Rome next time he comes in.

It was pouring when I started for home, and traffic came to a standstill because the road was flooded. Luckily I was able to bail out and take another route home. I was thankful for AWD yesterday, and for my husband, who helped me navigate the alternate route.

At night I use a sound machine to help me sleep, since even the littlest noises can wake me. I laughed the other night when I turned it on, as it was set to its usual sound: rainfall. Since nature has been kind enough to provide that for the last few nights, we've saved a little electricity. Alex has had fun with the waves of water that wash down our streets. He jumps at them as though he thinks he can trap them between his paws. He's puzzled when this doesn't work. ;-) When we towel-dry him back at home, the damp fur turns him into a little maniac. Friday night we laughed until we cried as he raced around the house, growling. Why do dogs do this?

And speaking of Alex, here are a few pictures of him relaxing at home.

Doing my cute walking-on-hind-legs trick for rawhide.
Dad wants to put me on TV, but mom says she'd
never whore her baby out like that. Thanks, Mom!





Mmm... rawhide is the best invention ever.

And I'll end the night with a belly rub, please.
Ahhh....

Yep, still mean...

Do you see it?




Hussy wuss?

Word Verification must be taught some manners.

Word Verification is a mean SOB

Word Verfication made me cry this morning, because look at this.

Wha?

I will admit that I am completely befuddled by some of the celebrity news that’s been making headlines lately. I’m not saying that we non-celebrities are perfect beings, luckily, because obviously perfection would leave us with some really boring blogs. I’m just… sayin’.

Which, first, Britney Spears and Kevin what’s-his-name having a baby? I wish them the best, but forgive me if that didn’t occur to me as being one of the world’s best ideas. She just seems awfully young to me, and he just seems awfully… awful. But they are still married, which means that they’ve beaten…

…Chad Michael Murray and Sophia Bush. I had never heard of them before, but I know they are famous and I know they are separating after 5 months of marriage because I have a People magazine right in front of me. According to the article, they met in 2003, which, wow!, means that they may have learned each other’s middle names, pet peeves, and favorite pizza toppings before walking down the aisle. Good job, guys. But it was apparently all for naught, even though they outlasted the marital union of…

…Renee Zellweger and Kenny Cowboy Hat, who got married after knowing each other for like, five minutes? Not that there aren’t moments when I wouldn’t elope with the first person to bring me a margarita, but come on. When you are talking life commitment, don’t you want to know the person you will be JOINED TO FOR ETERNITY for more than 5 minutes? STILL, Renee and Kenny may have earned more sanity points (no thanks to Paxil) than…

…TOM CRUISE and KATIE HOLMES. Oh Lord, just imagine what outrageous behaviors Tom will exhibit on Oprah now that he’s a father-to-be. Which, Lord, please keep him away from my couch, because I can’t afford a new one right now. Actually, Lord, please keep Tom Cruise away from me completely. I know I adored him in All the Right Moves, and I’ll admit I paused the tape at that crucial moment to see something I shouldn’t have seen, but that was a long time ago and I am now desperately AFRAID of the man. I know he couldn’t have drugged Katie, unless it was with some super-potent vitamin tablets, so I’m trying to figure out why she thinks it’s a good idea marry, much less procreate with, a jaw-clenching, couch-hopping, tongue-wrangling madman. Whom she has known FOR ONLY SIX MONTHS.

The only celebrity who seems to be using her brain right now is Paris Hilton, who wisely broke off her engagement to… er, Paris. Paris and Paris. Hee. Which, dammit, because I was finally able to remember both names of a celebrity couple. But still, I give credit where credit is due, and Paris looks like a true genius compared to everyone else I’m seeing on the news. Somebody better sit her down with a number 2 pencil right this minute, because I have a sneaking suspicion that she might be able to score a 1600 on the SAT.

Break It Down-- Meme Time

Ahem... as you can see, I'm still on an eighties kick. Bear with me. I'll take the leg warmers off tomorrow.

I was tagged by Bearrette for this meme:

What color is most reflective of you? This is hard. I'll say red.

How did you get the idea for your journal name? I was working a night shift in my library last year when I decided to start a blog. It was very quiet that night and it reminded me of when I used to study in the library stacks in college. Being in the stacks always made me feel reflective.

What time were you born? I don't know exactly, but it was sometime around lunch. My mom's doctor said he was going to check her one more time and then go out for lunch. After he checked he decided the food should wait, and I was born soon after.

What song are you playing now, or wish you were playing? I am trying to listen to a CD recorded by some musicians from Romania. We saw them performing in a piazza in Florence. I like it because it's lively and cheerful, and it makes me long for Chianti and gelato.

What I'm actually hearing is the sound of a helicoptor buzzing my neighborhood. A neighbor from down the street is a pilot for President Bush, and he likes to say hi to his wife and baby from the air. The keyboard is rattling.

Has the death of a celebrity ever made you cry? I cried when Princess Diana was killed.

What color underwear are you wearing? Purple

Do you want a baby? We'll see what happens.

What is your pet's name? Alex. He also answers to Boo, Buddha-belly, Stinker, and other assorted nicknames.

What color are your bedsheets? Tan

What are the last 3 digits of your phone number? 357. All odd. Very fitting.

What was the last concert you attended? Eric Clapton at the MCI Center.

Who was with you? My husband.

What was the last movie you saw? Hmmm... I don't go out to movies very often. I guess it was Wedding Crashers, which I saw with my best friend. The last one I watched at home was probably Steel Magnolias. I sobbed when Shelby died, of course.

What food are you craving right now? Lemon meringue pie. Luckily my husband brought some home for me today and I plan to head straight to the fridge when I'm done with this.

Did you dream last night? Yes... and it was odd. Might share in a future entry.

What was the last tv show you watched? 30 Minute Meals on Food Network.

What is your fave piece of jewelry? My wedding rings, but also an antique silver ring that was my grandmother's, and a silver necklace my father-in-law gave me that has an Irish "Salmon of Knowledge" charm on it.


What is to the left of you? An antique dresser. Displayed on top is a lava lamp and a Beatles "Acoustic White Album, Sessions 1968." Please contact husband for further information. This is not my area of expertise.

What was the last thing you ate? Dinner, which was carrots and a lentil dish.

Who is your best friend of the opposite sex? My husband

Who last imed you? My best friend.

Where is your significant other right now? At band practice.

When was the last time you cut your hair? I can't even remember, and that's why I have an appointment for this Saturday.

Are you on any meds? Anything that will help my allergies go away, PLEASE.

Do you have a mental disease? A mental disease? Not currently. Unless I'm in denial.

What shirt are you wearing? A t-shirt from a concert called "Waterstock" where my husband's band performed.

What time is it? 751 pm

What color is your razor? pink

What's your favorite shopping store? For clothes, Ann Taylor. I used to love browsing in Le Gourmet Chef, a cooking store, but it closed.

Are you thirsty? I usually am. I'm going to have a glass of water with my pie.

Can you imagine yourself ever getting married? Already married.

Sleazy? Or Social? You Decide.

I just re-read my last post and realized that something was missing. You see, I was a bit fuzzy-headed when I was typing that entry and as a result I completely forgot to talk about something that made me go "Wha...?" more than once on Friday night. It troubles me, but as someone who hasn’t really been “on the market” in nearly 12 years, I might need a second opinion.

So here’s the scene:

You’re a woman. You’re at a club. You hit the dance floor with a female friend. The two of you are dancing together and having fun.

Suddenly you feel hands sliding around your waist from behind. A glance back reveals that it’s a man you don’t know, and he is touching you and dancing provocatively behind you. Not only do you not know him, you’ve never even made eye contact with him before. There were no sly exchanges or come-hither looks or anything of the sort. You try to move away from him but he seems to follow you.

After several quick side-steps and “no thanks” gestures, he finally gets the hint and moves on.

So is he sleazy? Or just being social?

I know someone will tell me I need to get a life and realize that this is how it’s done now. That if a woman is dancing alone, or with another woman, it must mean that she is yearning for some strange guy to come feel her up. That obviously, if you’re in a dance club and you do not keep a man close by at all times, of course you should expect unwanted attention.

Plus, I was frankly a little disappointed that I couldn’t pass for a lesbian who was getting down to “White Wedding” with her life partner.

But I digress.

This really bothers me on some level. It happened more than once that night, and each time I thought, “Well, at least I should be thankful that he accepted the rejection gracefully.” And then I promptly wanted to slap myself. Have any of you ladies had a guy call you a bitch when you politely refused his come-on?

I have.

It’s not unreasonable to think that a woman at a club might be looking to meet a man. I know this. I know it takes courage to approach a stranger, and I have a healthy respect for a guy who does, as long as said approach is polite and doesn’t involve me coming into unwelcome contact with his family jewels.

I’m fine with a guy who asks me to dance. A guy who asks if he can buy me a drink. A guy who strikes up a conversation.

But since when is it ok to put your hands on a woman you don’t know?

So please tell me: is my reaction to this similar to my grandmother’s freak-out over the debut of the bikini?

Or am I justly icked-out?

You Should Be Dancing

NEED. MORE. COFFEE. PLEASE.

Last night hubby and I went out with some friends to a little dance club we like. There is a floor where they play 80’s music almost exclusively, and we spend most of our time there because:

• Dance moves like the Kid n’ Play should be practiced, lest they be forgotten
• I love it when a whole room full of people yell in unison, “Tiiiiin ROOF! Rusted.”
• I can’t leave until they play Billie Jean
• The black light makes my teeth glow in a really interesting way
• Where else can you see full-grown men singing Like a Virgin?

But this morning? I am kind of regretting the Long Island Iced Tea I drank. And the fact that we didn’t get to bed until after 4 a.m. Because of course we were hungry after showing off our professional-like dance moves all night, and omelets and tuna melts and french fries HAD TO BE LOCATED, STAT. If the waiter was horrified when the sweaty lot of us sat down at his table, he didn’t show it. We gave him a nice big tip because he kept us supplied with plenty of water and coffee and didn’t mind the fact that we were often laughing hysterically at non-funny things. Like the salt shaker.

I can’t remember the last time I had a night like that, and there’s a good reason.

I AM GETTING TOO OLD FOR THIS.

Too old to do all of those things in a single night, anyway. I can’t dance like a fool for four hours AND have mixed drinks AND yell over the music AND fend off sleazy guys AND eat bad fried food AND stay up until 4:30 a.m.

But I hope I’ll continue to do all of those things individually, in moderation. Except for the sleazy guys, of course. Because we did have an awful lot of fun. And trust me, that salt shaker was hilarious. You just had to be there.