Life as a Fugitive

Moving Out

2006-06-06T21:46:00.000-04:00

Click here to be directed to my new virtual home! I've been hard at work getting things ready over there, so change your links and join me...

Music Musings

2006-06-06T09:29:00.000-04:00

Not too much has grabbed me in the music world lately. I'm currently holding my breath waiting for the new Amy Millan (of my beloved Canadian exports, Stars) record Honey From the Tombs. It comes out in the States as an import next week. If the two tracks I've heard from it are indicative of the album as a whole, we're in for a stellar solo debut.

DD and I subscribe to Paste Magazine; by far the best feature of Paste is the 20+ song CD that accompanies every issue. This month I can't get enough of the opening track, Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs' cover of the old Left Banke tune "She May Call You Up Tonight" from Under the Covers. Super, super catchy. (Incidentally, I'm sure MS would like to get "under the covers" with SH in the literal sense...). Oh, and speaking of Matthew Sweet, has anyone seen a picture of him lately?? It appears he may have eaten the rest of the Bangles...

Mafia Love Fest

2006-06-05T09:39:00.000-04:00

Last night Pencopal & A and M & R came over for a season finale double-header: The Sopranos and Big Love. The verdict: we were one for two. The former blew.

I've always been wary of hype -- so much so, in fact, that I often avoid pop cultural entities steeped knee-deep in the hoopla (gotta love the Starship reference!) for fear that they won't live up. It's my way of warding off what will more than likely result in disappointment before I'm actually hit with the sting. But, for reasons that still elude me, I religiously watched the recent Sopranos season.

I should have known better. Nothing effing happened. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Tony's family didn't go to war with New York. Carm didn't discover the truth about Adrianna. No one got whacked. The biggest shocker of the night: Melfi used the word "fuck."

At two minutes to ten we all collectively looked at our watches.

"Okay, something's gotta happen," we mused, sitting on the proverbial edges of our seats.

But no. After a seven minute Christmas scene in Tony and Carm's living room, complete with AJ's Hispanic, single-mom girlfriend and a call from Meadow, the credits rolled.

WTF?

Next up: Big Love. And it didn't disappoint.

The polygamists got outted! At a royally inopportune moment. And Nicki sexified (I'm making up a word, I realize) herself. She lost the braid and the prairie outfit.

Even better: there wasn't a single glimpse of Bill Paxton's coin slot. Now that is a season finale.

Tube Sock Chic

2006-06-04T11:25:00.000-04:00

My dad is a great guy. But sometimes amazing people make horrible fashion decisions. It's simply a fact of life.

On Friday night DD and I went out for dinner with my parents and some longtime family friends. Somehow we got into a discussion about my sister's apparent mortification concerning a recent faux pax on Dad's part. As the story goes, my father was on his way out the door to the gym when my sister stopped him in his tracks.

"Dad, you CANNOT go out dressed like that," she told him.

"What? Why? I'm just going to the gym," my dad replied, utterly confused.

"Not until I get you some new socks!" she countered.

Ever since I can remember, my father has sported these terrible tube socks from time to time; although those are not his feet in the above picture, they serve as a pretty good example of the sort of horror I'm referring to.

I should also mention that, at my mother's urging, my dad has been taking a stress management course at Penn that teaches both yoga and meditation (in case you didn't know, my father had a mild heart attack last fall).

"Dad, I bet you do a mean Down Dog in those socks," I told him the other night.

All he did was laugh, which leads me to believe that he has, in fact worn those bad boys to class.

Please tell me that the fashion police are on their way.

Random Friday Strikes Again

2006-06-02T12:46:00.000-04:00

Okay, Kids. It's Friday and you know what that means. Break out those iPods, get them a-shufflin' and tell the blogosphere what's playing. The rules are old hat at this point: the first ten songs. No apron-wringing.

Here are the goods:

1. Half a Person (Best I) -- The Smiths
2. Can't Get a Line (Satellite Rides) -- Old 97's
3. Parachutes (Team Boo) -- Mates of State
4. Can't Stop the World (Beauty and the Beat) -- The Go-Gos
5. Splendor in the Grass (The Ladybug Transistor) -- The Ladybug Transistor
6. Revival (A Decade of Hits 1969-1979) -- The Allman Brothers
7. The Littlest Bird (Blue Horse) -- The Be Good Tanyas
8. Maria (No Exit) -- Blondie
9. My Name is Jonas (The Blue Album) -- Weezer
10. Saddest Quo (Discover a Lovelier You) -- The Pernice Brothers

General Thoughts: Not too much 80s this week. A little more indie rock. I like it.

Seen Live: None! Shit, that's a rare thing indeed.

Favorite Song: This is a toughie, so I'm going with a tie between "Can't Get a Line" (super catchy) and "Saddest Quo," my anthem this year.

Least Favorite Song: Truth be told, for as much of a Smiths fan as I am, "Half a Person" just doesn't do it for me. Unless Patty Griffin's singing. Take that, Moz.

Favorite Album: Satellite Rides and The Ladybug Transistor.

Least Favorite Album: Allman Brothers. I'm generally not a fan of the jam band (I find the noodling self-indulgent and annoying after a while), but DD loves these guys and I do dig "Revival."

Need more shuffle in your Friday? Head on over to Apartment 2024 where Marisa always plays and compiles a Master Link List...

So About Divine Justice...

2006-06-01T21:00:00.000-04:00

KJ proposed the idea of "divine justice" as our prompt for this week. I suppose I should say, first, that my relationship with the "Divine" is fairly nonexistent, at least in the more traditional sense. Perhaps a bit of background would be helpful.

Religion was kind of complex growing up. My parents have an interfaith marriage. My mom grew up Protestant and my dad grew up Jewish. My dad, despite his Jewish heritage, considers himself Agnostic (as do I at this point). My mom wanted to raise us with exposure to some sort of religion, even if we'd later reject it -- she wanted us to at least consciously make that choice. So we went to Methodist church and Sunday School (since my mom was the more religious of the two, Christianity won out. However, we were still exposed to Jewish traditions like Passover Seders etc.).

I can remember the definitive moment when I decided that church was not for me -- our Sunday school teacher had, completely seriously, told our fourth grade class about how his tape deck was possessed by Satan. Following that, he recounted a story of meeting Jesus Christ at a party. (Jesus was apparently dressed like a beggar and asked him for a ride.) I remember thinking the guy was off his nut and that religious folks "believed way too much."

Despite that experience, though, my mom wasn't ready to let me completely give up on the religious thing. I continued to go into middle school and then we had a deal -- I would go to confirmation classes to "check them out," to make sure, one last time, that it wasn't for me. So I went and decided absolutely not. At that point, our church had attracted quite a faction of holy-rollers, people my mom referred to as being "high on the Lord." The confirmation teacher was one, and I was so out of there.

My mom was totally cool about it, not only because I think she started to not like the direction the church was headed in, but because she knew I'd given it a shot and had formed my own opinion. Also, it wasn't like I didn't get any religion/spirituality. (I went to Quaker school from first through twelfth grades and attended Meeting for Worship weekly from the age of six. I enjoyed that.)

Religion has been pretty much a nonentity in my adult life. That said, though, I am a very spiritual person even though I don't always express it outwardly. But spirituality comes in forms other than organized religion -- I find it in art, for example, and I've certainly been on a journey of the soul-searching variety this past year or so. What's interesting is that the older I get, the more interested I am in developing this part of myself.

I've never been comfortable with the term "God." In fact, when DD and I got married we wrote our own ceremony and vows and took out all of the churchy language. For a long time I was also not comfortable with the idea of faith, although recently I've come around to thinking that the world is a pretty dark place if we can't believe in something.

For that reason I kind of hope that there is some larger-than-life force flowing through the universe. But if there is, it clearly isn't doling out hard and fast justice; it doesn't always spare the good and punish the bad. It can be hard to reconcile at times.

Recently, as I've been having some trouble with my chronic digestive issues again, someone told me to pray.

"I'm not telling you to do so in the religious sense," she said. "Just ask whatever it is you believe in for help."

I could go through the proverbial motions and just DO what she suggested, but to truly do it would require some degree of faith. And how can I have faith in any force that clearly isn't just? Why should I think that said force would help me on my path to a calm stomach when it just slapped my friend JW with eye cancer? Isn't it all just a crapshoot?

I know it's cynical, but it's the nature of the intellectual to question. Maybe ignorance really is bliss sometimes.

Jumping on the Big Love Bandwagon a Little Late

2006-06-01T12:50:00.000-04:00

DD and I watched about half of the season premiere of Big Love when it was on. For some reason, though, we weren't hooked. The other night HBO was replaying a more recent episode and we inadvertantly got sucked in...to the point that we're now in the midst of playing catch-up in time for the season finale this coming Sunday. It'll be a marathon Love Fest, but I think we can do it.

A couple of thoughts:

1. Nicki's a bitch and dresses like she belongs in Little House on the Prairie.

2. Marge is hilarious. She's definitely my favorite. Leave it to her to be prancing around in her granny panties in front of Ben... Gotta love the cluelessness. Or the facade.

3. The "What are you wearing?" thing never did it for me, but polygamist phone sex is REALLY not hot. There are just no two ways about it. Sorry, Barb.

4. I like the show in spite of the fact that I have to see Bill Paxton's ass about once every fifteen minutes. That's saying a lot.

Can't wait for more lovin' later...

Rockstar Kitty

2006-05-31T18:30:00.000-04:00

MS LOVES this pic. So, this one's for you, dear. Miles apparently couldn't escape the paparazzi that night; it's tough being so damn handsome.

Upside-Down Cat

2006-05-30T19:24:00.000-04:00

My blog is image-starved (M, I love the fact that you take so many amazing pictures!). Thus, Miles makes his debut; he tends to get comfy on the desk while I work. Here he is striking a pose...

Weekend Update

2006-05-28T11:59:00.000-04:00

Friday night DD and I went to see A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (we have season tix to a theater in Philly). Just before intermission DD's phone went off (it was on vibrate, fear not). We didn't recognize the number. Then my phone "rang" silently and the caller revealed himself (DD doesn't have T's number in his phone). It was TM, of our dear friends H&T.

H&T moved to Atlanta from Philly earlier this year when T got a job there. They miss Philly tremendously and DD and I were severely bummed when they left. Anyway, they had plans to come back for a visit this Memorial Day weekend. We'd offered to have them stay with us, but they'd apparently gotten a nonrefundable hotel rez online.

But, as it turned out, their friends, who were meeting them in town, didn't get a room. So, H&T wanted to know if our offer was still good; they would stay with us and their friends would stay at the hotel.

We were more than happy to host; however, we had plans to head down to my family's beach house for part of the weekend and therefore weren't going to be home for the entire three days. Originally we'd planned to catch up with H&T on Sunday for brunch and then head to the beach. But, their flight from Atlanta was to get into Philly at 9 a.m. Saturday morning. And they were planning to come straight to The G-Ho.

But no problem. In fact, this ended up being the perfect plan. They got to our place by ten and were pretty hungry. So were we. Food was in order. Unfortunately we struck out at our favorite brunch locale, Cafe Lift (which, incidentally, has Challah French Toast with homemade whipped cream to die for). CL was closed for the weekend. We thought fast and decided to try the reputable Honey's Sit'n Eat (none of us had been). It was decent, but by no means did it measure up to our beloved Euro-style cafe in the Loft District.

It was great to catch up with H&T over a leisurely breakfast. They told us about plans for their January wedding and about how much they miss Philadelphia (they're apparently not big Atlanta fans). We told them about goings-ons locally and shared a couple of funny stories.

Since we'd gotten to see H&T a day earlier than expected, we figured we'd head straight to the beach house from Atlantic City, where we were going Saturday night to see Bill Maher. The best part of this whole deal: H&T, animal lovers that they are, were staying at our place. They could feed and play with our cats. Everyone was thrilled.

So yesterday, late afternoon, we drove to AC. The show wasn't slated to start until nine, so we had some time to kill. Still full from a big brunch, we decided to hit the slots at The Borgata, the chic we're-trying-to-be-Vegas casino where BM was on. Wandering the floor, I immediately noticed that instead of the usual geriatrics-with-oxygen-tanks-and-cigarettes were hipper-than-thou, high maintenance twenty and thirtysomethings. I generally hate casinos, but, I have to say, this was a bit less depressing.

I didn't have anything better to do, so I figured I'd try my hand at the nickel slots. No sooner had I gotten seated at the Wheel of Fortune machines than I'd somehow won myself $60. I quickly cashed out.

DD decided to try his luck at nickel poker. As he was getting raped by the machine, I noticed that the Police song "I can't, I can't, I can't stand losing..." was playing.

"Do you think they do marketing studies about what kind of music to play while people are gambling?" I asked.

DD laughed.

"You know, if people keep hearing about how they can't stand losing, maybe they'll just keeping playing until they eventually win...which could be never..."

Good theory, huh?

DD may not have loved losing, but I was calling it quits. No sense in pressing our luck when dinner was already paid for. We headed to Suilan, the Borgata's version of Philly's own Susanna Foo. It was quite tasty.

Finally it was time for Bill Maher. He was pretty hysterical, although he recycled a couple of jokes from his show, Real Time. Specifically, he has this routine about privacy and the whole wire-tapping ordeal.

"Americans gave the finger to privacy a long time ago," he says. "In what other country would we show up on Jerry Springer wearing pampers and a ball gag? People are desperate for attention. 'Google me, read my blog...'"

He also went off about Dr. David Hager, the favorite gynecologist of the Bush administration who allegedly sodomized his wife without her consent, while she was sleeping. Apparently his excuse was that he got the wrong hole.

"And this is a gynecologist, folks. That's his territory. But then there's the implication that if he'd just gotten the right hole, it would've been okay. Never mind the fact that it would have been vaginal rape..."

Needless to say, it was a riotous evening. It's been a pretty sublime weekend so far...

Random Friday: The Long Weekend Edition

2006-05-26T10:23:00.001-04:00

For the sake of consistency, here are the rules: Set the old iPod a-shufflin' and report back the first ten songs it spits out. No skipping, rationalizing or apologizing.

Here's the set:

1. Worn Me Down (Happenstance) -- Rachel Yamagata
2. True Faith (The Best of New Order) -- New Order
3. Good Lovin' (The Arista Years) -- The Grateful Dead
4. Learning to Fly (Into the Great Wide Open) -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
5. One Prairie Outpost (Indian Summer) -- Carbon Leaf
6. Summerlong (Back to Me) -- Kathleen Edwards
7. Camera Shy (Happy Secret) -- The Lucksmiths
8. Sexx Laws (Midnite Vultures) -- Beck
9. A Timeless Tale (Eva Trout) -- Eva Trout
10. Hard Road (The Split EP) -- Mary Lou Lord

Seen Live: Rachel Yamagata (opening for Liz Phair), Beck, Mary Lou Lord

Favorite Song: I've always loved "A Timeless Tale." I happened upon the Aussie band Eva Trout in a listening station in high school and I still listen to the album all the time.

Least Favorite Song: These are all good tunes. But I have to say that I've grown really sick of "Worn Me Down." When it first came out, though, I couldn't get enough of it.

Memory Trigger: Whenever I hear anything off of Beck's Midnite Vultures I think of DD and one of our early Valentine's Days; I surprised him with tix for Beck to his sold out show at the Tower Theatre. He was wowed by the gift and we were both wowed by the performance.

For more Random Friday, head on over to Apartment 2024 where Marisa always plays and compiles a Master Link List...

I hope everyone has a rockin' Memorial Day. We'll be seeing a play in Philly tonight, checking out Bill Maher in AC tomorrow night, catching up with out-of-town friends for brunch on Sunday and heading to my family's beach house for the remainder of the weekend. Fingers crossed for good weather!

Another Excerpt

2006-05-24T18:58:00.000-04:00

I met Brian on the front stoop; he looked weary after a long workday and I could sense his eagerness to get inside and put his feet up. He hugged me hello.

“You just getting back from the gym?” (The outfit must have given me away.)

“Yeah. I cut it a little short -- what a madhouse at this hour.”

“You’re spoiled,” he teased. “This is how the other half lives. We don’t all get out at 2:30.”

I smiled, silently conceding to his point.

“So, how was the first day back?”

“The usual. Kind of chaotic. Hard to get a real sense of the kids just yet.”

“Well, tell me more about it over dinner. I want to go change.”

When we got inside, we dumped our bags by the door as we routinely did. Truth be told, we could both be neater.

“I’ll make dinner,” I volunteered. “Took out some chicken breasts to defrost this morning.”

“Sounds great. Thanks. I’m going to get out of these work clothes in the meantime.”

I got to work chopping cilantro. The menu tonight was crème fraiche chicken with coriander. Brian and I traded cooking duties pretty routinely -- luckily we were both endowed with culinary skills. Usually if I cooked, he cleaned up and vice versa. On a rare occasion we collaborated, but that could get annoying -- I liked my autonomy in the kitchen.

After about ten minutes I heard the television go on in the other room -- The Simpsons. Brian was an addict. I “get it” and everything but, really, it’s a guy show. In all honesty, how many women do you know who obsessively watch and quote it? I rest my case.

“Dinner in about fifteen,” I called over the din of the TV.

“’Kay,” came the reply.

The truth is, this recipe sounded a lot more complex than it actually was. All it really required was two chicken breasts, a sauté pan, a bit of chopped cilantro and some crème fraiche. The couscous and the veggies were quick; I could whip up the sides while the chicken cooked. Time-efficient meals were key during the week.

As I stood at the stove tending to our dinner, I could hear Brian laughing in the living room. After a moment I was able to make out that it was the episode where Homer gives Marge the bowling ball as a “gift.” The humor, of course, lay in the fact that Marge herself would have no use whatsoever for a bowling ball; it was an absolutely self-serving present. This example of distorted altruism had become somewhat of an inside joke between Brian and me; in the beginning of our relationship it was easy to be creative and inspired when giving gifts. But as time wore on, it had become more of a challenge, naturally. I’d be lying if I told you that the Natalie Merchant tickets I put in Brian’s Valentine’s Day card last February didn’t have at least a hint of bowling ball in them.

“Brian, come on!” I yelled, dishing up the last of the sautéed asparagus onto his plate.

Right at that moment I heard the TV shut off. Wow. Promptness.

“So, the big first day,” he said, sliding into the chair opposite me. “How was it?”

Sometimes I loathed small talk. Perhaps others would make more of an effort to go through the proverbial motions, but to me it felt silly and laborious. My day was not particularly exciting or monumental. There wasn’t much to tell.

“Just the usual first day crap -- homeroom paperwork, course syllabi, rules and expectations, blank stares.”

“Do you have any of the same kids this year?” he pressed.

“A few.” I wasn’t giving him much, I admit.

“So no gut feelings?”

“Nothing’s really hit me yet.” I was feeling resistant to Brian’s queries but I wasn’t quite sure why.

A couple of moments passed in silence. I considered asking about his latest design project, but sometimes he had this habit of going into the minutiae of his work to the point that it utterly bored me or whoever else happened to be listening. When I didn’t follow or was clearly disinterested in the finer points of font selection he grew annoyed and I grew defensive. I let that idea go.

“You never told me much about your new therapist.” Brian didn’t like silence. In his family they sometimes talked in the name of having noise, while in my family we talked when there was something to say.

It had been just under a week since I’d been to see Reese. My next appointment was set for Wednesday: two days from now.

“Well, you know, it’s hard to tell much from the initial session -- basically it was an intake where she asked me a lot of routine questions. Hard to get a sense yet.”

It was a meager offering, perhaps, but it was true.

“Did you get a good vibe?” he pressed on.

“Yeah. She seems cool.” I wasn’t ready to launch into some kind of treatise on the importance of a “good fit” and how my intuition was already telling me I’d found it. Brian would likely be either unimpressed, or worse, deprecating, writing my instinctual vibe off as hokey.

“When’s your next appointment?”

Thank goodness he was deferring to logistical questions at this point.

“Wednesday at four.”

Sometimes I resisted these how-was-your-day discussions; they tended to feel disingenuous at points. I knew I needed to try harder, but something compelled me to yield to my lazier being too much of the time.

“So do you have prepping to do for school yet, or is it too early?”

“No ‘real’ work yet, but I do want to tweak this one activity for tomorrow,” I told him.

Incidentally, at the beginning of every year, after I hounded all of my kids for personal data, I reciprocated by giving them a true/false “quiz” about me, as an ice-breaker. The idea was that they didn’t know me yet (or at least most of them didn’t; if they had had me in the past I made them pair up with new students so that no one got an unfair advantage). Anyway, they had to separate, as best they could, fact from fiction. I awarded the winners a couple of extra credit points. They always found it hilarious. And, let me tell, you, kids never forget anything; they still haven’t let me live down the fact that I tried out for The Real World when I was in college. Last year, when the April Fool’s edition of the school paper came out, there I was, smiling up from underneath the headline “Ms. Foster to join cast of The Real World: Idaho.”

“Okay, I’ll clean up dinner,” Brian offered, undoubtedly knowing that it was already his duty since I’d cooked.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m gonna go ahead and finish this up.”

“Come here first,” he said, his arms outstretched.

I gave him a weak hug.

“I love you,” he said, ruffling my hair.

“You too,” I told him, although my words got muffled against his chest, and I almost doubt he heard me.

A Good Laugh

2006-05-24T12:49:00.000-04:00

It's been a pretty uneventful couple of days. Since there's not much to report, I'll leave you with the following...

This is the funniest news I've heard all week.

Since You Asked, Krizmic...

2006-05-21T11:07:00.000-04:00

I have to say, I've been very protective of my book. It's not that I'm worried about putting pieces of it out there for you, my friends, to see, but there's something a little unnerving about having bits of it floating around in the virtual world, available to essentially anyone. That said, though, I've done my best to put aside my neuroses, at least for the time being. And, K, my dear, since you requested it, I shall deliver.

My protagonist, Madeleine, has a blog which I just introduced into the story. After her second session with Reese, she writes the following:

The Road to Enlightenment Looks Potentially Inviting, But It’s Paved With a Few Bumps

My new therapist is cool, albeit a little too eager to get her New Age on. But make no mistake; she’s not one of those overly Santa Fe, gaudy-turquoise-necklace-wearing, caftan-sporting, hypnotic-voiced freaks. You know the type.

The auspicious:

1. She’s attractive and a hip dresser. (Today’s outfit: leopard print skirt with black mules. Call me crass, people, but if I’m eventually going to have to keep a straight face while enduring clinical terms like “penis” and “vagina” while talking about intimacy, she better not be sitting across from me in a frock. I mean, I have to at least be able to imagine that she has sex, for Christ’s sake…)

2. She shows emotion. You might think this goes without saying, but I once had this therapist who, I could tell, thought I was pretty hysterical at times. She would let a laugh “slip” every once in a while and then, catching herself, would immediately reel in her humanity at once conjuring a practiced, starched expression. Incidentally, even though I haven’t witnessed it yet, I have a feeling that R will laugh freely and with abandon. A sense of humor is absolutely a prerequisite for a good therapist.

The less-than-ideal-but-I-can-work-with-it:

1. She’s into relaxation practices. You know, meditation and shit. In fact, cool as she seems, I could actually see her throwing around catch phrases like “stress management” and crap like that. Note to self: educate R in the Janeane Garofalo School of Self Help soon. Must save her from affirmations of the “As I release my pee, I am free” variety.

2. Her office smells vaguely of incense. The scent of healing in a yoga-studio kind of way. Eat your heart out, Buddha.

Namaste.

The Friday Shuffle: The "Holy 80s!" Edition

2006-05-19T10:31:00.000-04:00

You know the drill, Kids. Set that iPod a-shufflin' and report back the first ten songs it spits out.

Here are the goods:

1. Motherland (Motherland) -- Natalie Merchant
2. Second Hand News (Rumours) -- Fleetwood Mac
3. Heartbreak Beat (Sedated in the 80s) -- Psychadelic Furs
4. Jukebox (Valley Girl Soundtrack) -- The Flirts
5. Disco Lights (Science Fair) -- Emm Gryner
6. In Your Room (Greatest Hits) -- The Bangles
7. To All My Friends (Jaywalker) -- Josh Joplin
8. Let's Go (Greatest Hits) -- The Cars
9. Hopeless (I Love You and What You've Done With the Place) -- Burn Disco Burn
10. There She Goes (Best of) -- The La's

General Thoughts: As the title says, "Holy 80s!" Hey, it's Sex Dwarf tonight. Maybe the 'pod is picking up a subliminal message...

Seen Live: Natalie Merchant (27 times, with and without the Maniacs), Emm Gryner and Josh Joplin

Favorite Song: "Motherland" is one of the most beautiful contemporary folk songs. Granted I'm biased, but Joan Baez will back me up. Give it a listen and tell me you don't agree.

Least Favorite Song: I added "Heartbreak Beat" to the 'pod to gear up for Psychadelic Furs night at Sex Dwarf a couple of months ago, but I've come to discover that I'm just not a huge fan of the tune.

Memory Trigger: "In Your Room" is Troublekiss's favorite so I always think of her when I hear it. Unfortunately I've not yet been privy to her karaoke version. Hey T, I think you ought to put in a request with your girl Pussy tonight...

For more Random Friday, head on over to Apartment 2024 where Marisa always plays and compiles a Master Link List...

Happy Prom Weekend! (Yes, it's that time of year. School Prom's tonight and yours truly will be movin' and groovin' at the first ever Sex Dwarf Prom!)

I Get Some Ass-Kissing

2006-05-18T21:23:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had what in teaching is the closest we have to a yearly "review." I'd been totally stressing because, just prior to the occasion, I'd accidentally effed up something in my online gradebook and figured that my supervisor (who is not only head of our department but also head of Guidance and All Things Grades) would be ready to rip me a new asshole (as she is wont to do).

As it turned out, not only did she not do the above, but she actually kissed my ass. I went in there and prefaced my faux pas by apologizing profusely and explaining that I knew she needed a gradebook issue like she needed a hole in the head at this point in the year.

"It's not a problem at all," she told me. "In fact, here's what we'll do..."

I was stunned. I thanked her and told her that I appreciated her understanding.

"You know," she said, "you taught me something last year when we had it out about how I reacted to you. I don't want to come across that way."

(Incidentally, last year she reemed me out for showing an R-rated film to seniors when the policy in place dicated that, as long as the kids were of age, we didn't need to send home permission slips. Long story short, I didn't take her crap and I not only stood up for myself, but I kind of stuck it to her for how she'd treated me.)

What's funny is that I don't really think I taught her anything, save for the fact that I won't be made to eat a bowl of shit. My boss didn't get the promotion she was after and is still bitter; from what I understand the board's reservation was primarily her lack of effective people skills.

Maybe she's getting her act together, albeit a little late. Still, though, I'll take it.

Poo Humor at Therapy

2006-05-17T17:55:00.000-04:00

Today I experienced another hilarious moment at therapy thanks, in part, to NB. I was sitting there and D mentioned "stool" (yes, as in poop, people. Nevermind the context. I can assure you that I don't have a fetish that involves poo as more than an abstract concept.)

Anyway, as soon as she uttered the word I was nearly off the couch I was laughing so hard.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but there actually is some validity..." she started.

"No, no, you just triggered something," I told her. "My friend N, who knows my love of scatalogical humor, has this furniture store near her and in the window they have a sign that says 'we have the biggest stools in town.' She apparently thinks of me every time she passes it," I blurted out.

Needless to say, D thought that was hysterical. She was dying laughing. I am so glad that my therapist has a great sense of humor.

Anyway, thanks for the moment, N.

Caught...At the Gym

2006-05-17T14:48:00.000-04:00

The other day I opted to work out at the branch of our gym that's in the 'burbs; sometimes I shoot over there after school and get my routine in before heading back into the city. Perhaps surprisingly, I hadn't run into any students while getting my elliptical on...until yesterday.

All of a sudden I sat up, in the middle of my ab routine, to see a senior from last year smiling and waving at me. I was shocked, not only because of the out-of-context thing, but also because of the fact that this kid was perpetually lazy, long-faced and irritable on the best of days. (Incidentally, she displayed all of the lethargy in her workout that she did in her classwork.) Still, I was amicable.

After that all went down, I got to thinking about a friend of mine from college and a story she once told me about running into a prof post-workout. The tale went like this: my friend had come into the locker room to find her Sociology professor (who was also her advisor!) prancing around completely nude.

"Hi JS!" her prof called, exuberantly.

Talk about embarrassing. At least I was only doing ab crunches (not that I galivant around bare-assed in the locker room, mind you).

Penises and Smoke Signals

2006-05-13T00:59:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling kind of "blah" lately (as is evident from recent posts). It probably doesn't help that I'm fighting a cold. I came home from school today completely exhausted and took a three hour nap. It was a good thing too, because we had plans this evening and I didn't want to renege. It turns out the little siesta must have served me well because here it is one o'clock in the morning and I'm wide awake and blogging.

M&R and Troublekiss came over to hang out and have sushi from Moshi Moshi. What I love about my good friends is the fact that there's never any pressure to be "on," and the fun and general hilarity are always natural byproducts of our time together. Such was the case tonight; I more than made up for my derth of laughter this week.

It all began when MS launched into a story about her co-worker, Linwood, a 32-year-old grandpa. (DD and RS were joking that his family tree looked more like a telephone pole with twigs protruding from it as opposed to a rightful tree with branches.)

"A 32-year-old grandpa! You know what that would take?" RS asked. "You'd have you get a girl knocked up at fifteen and then you'd have to have your kid knock up/get knocked up by fifteen or sixteen..."

Troublekiss (quoting Bernie Mac, apparently): "When it's a boy you gotta worry 'bout ONE penis. When it's a girl you gotta worry 'bout eeeeeverybody penis!"

In addition to the above feat, Linwood is also an alleged office thief. MS had fifteen dollars stolen from her purse this week and it seems to be somewhat of an epidemic.

Me: "If Linwood doesn't stop stealing, HE gonna have to worry 'bout 'eeeeeverybody penis' once he gets to jail!"

From there the conversation segued into one about an aquaintance we all have who is naively idealistic (to put it nicely). He often puts us down and laments his own status of "working for 'the man.'" It's become a total cliche at this point. Color me jaded.

Anyway, JS (our subject) recently told Troublekiss that he was going to a Native American Smokeout. (And what, pray tell, does one do at a smokeout, you ask? I have no effing clue. Just go with it.) This was exactly the sort of event that would likely send JS into orgasmic delight; it's natural, back-to-the-earth and free of yuppies.

But, wouldn't you know, the smokeout was cancelled. Due to RAIN. JS got all the way there and had to turn around.

Troublekiss: "Those Native Americans are pussies. They're gonna let a little rain stop them?!"

RS: "Apparently JS didn't see the smoke signals saying that it was cancelled." [making smoke/flame gestures with hands] "This event is cancelled. Go home."

DD: "Zen question: If you're on your way to a smokeout and you see smoke signals that say it's cancelled, is it happening or not?"

MS: "This event is sponsored by Phillip Morris. Don't forget to pick up a T-shirt on your way out."

THAT would have been the ultimate in ironic hilarity, especially given our friend JS's naive politics.

At any rate, our friends are some entertaining peeps. Tonight was exactly what I needed: good food, good company, good laughs.

It's been a full day. Maybe it's bedtime after all.

Random Friday: The "I'm Late" Edition

2006-05-12T16:09:00.000-04:00

You know the deal. Put your digital music player on shuffle and report back the first ten songs it spits out. No apron-wringing!

Here's the stuff:

1. Dancing With Myself (Best of) -- Billy Idol
2. My Sharona (Reality Bites soundtrack) -- The Knack
3. If I Could (Emoh) -- Lou Barlow
4. Contraband (Don't Walk Fly) -- Karma
5. Back on the Chain Gang (The Singles) -- The Pretenders
6. Know Your Rights (Live: From Here to Eternity) -- The Clash
7. Hey Man (Now You're Really Livin') (Blinking Lights and Other Revelations) -- The Eels
8. Drowned (Skeleton Jar) -- Youth Group
9. Laid (Best of) -- James
10. Mercy of the Fallen (Beauty of the Rain) -- Dar Williams

General Thoughts: A lot of old, fun favorites here.

Song that Most Makes Me Laugh (since I'm in need of a good laugh!): I cannot listen to "My Sharona" without picturing the gas station mini mart scene in Reality Bites where Janeane Garofalo busts some hilarious moves.

Happy Friday, Everyone.

Blah

2006-05-10T20:59:00.000-04:00

I feel like I'm going through an anti-social phase. Granted I have gone out some lately, but I don't have a burning desire to live it up. I fear I'm being kind of lame.

Ironically, my therapist thinks that my temperament is actually better (maybe because I happened to crack a few funnies today? Incidentally, she finds me hilarious). I don't know what's up. I feel like something's in flux, but I'm not sure exactly what.

I'm not feeling cranky or irritable per se. However, I could definitely use a really good laugh. Tell me something hysterical. It's been too long since I've had a truly gut-busting moment...

P.S. My hypocondria has kicked up a notch since yesterday. My latest paranoia: eye cancer.

It Does Get Worse Than Irritable Bowel Syndrome

2006-05-09T22:33:00.000-04:00

This morning I received an email from one of my oldest friends. (Actually, he and I have quite a history that includes more than friendship, but that's kind of beside the point.) There have been gaps in our past where we've fallen out of touch for months and then reconnected and picked up right back where we began. Despite our distance in time and miles, we have retained a pretty unique bond.

Anyway, JW has been living in Prague for the last year or so writing for an English language paper and working on a short story collection. So you can imagine my surprise when I opened up my mail this morning and the subject title read "Hi from Philly." Yes, he is in Philly. (In fact, we just got off the phone.) However, the reason for his being here is not a happy one.

As it turns out, JW has cancer in his right eye. He's having the eye removed tomorrow at Will's Eye Hospital and, in six weeks, he will get a prosthetic. (He has no vision in the eye at this point and they don't think that they can save it.)

Needless to say, when you hear this kind of a story you often realize how much you take for granted. Please keep your fingers crossed for my friend; at the very least, lets hope that his surgery goes as well as it possibly can.

Not Much is Up

2006-05-08T21:07:00.000-04:00

In a nutshell:

1) I had a pretty uneventful weekend. Laid low on Friday and went to a terrible party on Saturday. It was all these overly Type A, obnoxious, high-powered ego-driven lawyers. Normally we are not friendly with such people (in fact most of our friends are teacher-y, artsy, non-profit-y types), but the birthday boy (who is actually a nice guy himself) was a friend of DD's. So I had to put on a brave face. It was definitely tough in the face of so many my-shit-don't-stink folks. Thankfully Krizmic called in the middle of the ordeal and I was able to steal away a couple of minutes chatting with her.

2) Today I went to the gym and noticed a woman eating a blow pop while running on the treadmill. A little ironic, no? Perhaps the line of thinking is that she can afford to eat that shit if she goes for a run simultaneaously. Next time I'll remember to ask her how that diet is working out.

No profundities tonight, people. I simply felt guilty for not updating in a few days...

Back At It: The Friday Shuffle

2006-05-05T10:04:00.000-04:00

You know the rules. Put your digital music player on shuffle and report back the first ten songs it spits out. No "apron wringing" allowed.

Here goes:

1. Cemetary Gates (The Queen is Dead) -- The Smiths
2. Disco Lights (Science Fair) -- Emm Gryner
3. If I Can't Change Your Mind (Copper Blue) -- Sugar
4. Wrapped Up in Books (Dear Catastrophe Waitress) -- Belle and Sebastian
5. I Don't Want to Know (Rumors) -- Fleetwood Mac
6. Sick of Myself (100% Fun) -- Matthew Sweet
7. Good Man (The Animal Years) -- Josh Ritter
8. Can't Get a Line (Satellite Rides) -- Old 97's
9. American Music (Why do Birds Sing?) -- Violent Femmes
10. Other End of the Telescope (Ultimate Collection) -- Aimee Mann

General Thoughts: Wow! Great set. Not a bad song here.

Seen Live: Emm Gryner, Bob Mould (of Sugar), Belle and Sebastian, Matthew Sweet, Josh Ritter, Aimee Mann

Particularly enjoying right now: I'm on a total Josh Ritter kick ever since I saw him live last week. "God Man" is probably my favorite track on the new record. Also, I've kind of rediscovered Emm Gryner. I listened to her quite a bit in college and even got to see her at a house concert once.

Memory Trigger: Matthew Sweet's 100% Fun makes me think of high school. NS (HS boyfriend) and I used to love this record. It's still great.

Back to work...

"Holy Crotch" Rocks in G-Ho Quizzo...Sort Of

2006-05-03T12:48:00.000-04:00

Last night I played Quizzo (bar trivia) with DD, our friends B&K, their friend E and Troublekiss. We'd made the date with B&K weeks ago; this was the first Tuesday that DD was out of class (he was taking an indie film course for fun and it just ended). Anyway, we played at The Sidecar, a local G-Ho bar (incidentally, our neighborhood doesn't have a real name. We live near a hospital, so the realtors all refer to it as "Graduate Hospital." Lame. We've christened it "The G-Ho.").

Troublekiss showed up to play with us and she and B got talking about Holy Cross, where and she his bro went to school.

"Cool, so your sis went to Holy Crotch?" T asked, laughing.

From that moment on, our team name was set. It was great because they would keep announcing it over and over again each round, when it would come time for a score update.

The unfortunate news is that we only came in second. Ironically, our knowledge of sick sexual trivia was a little lacking (oh yes, incredulous ones). Sample question: What is the term for when a guy pulls out during intercourse with a woman and goes for a surprise anal attack?

A Pearl Harbor.