Every 2 Minutes in Boston - Pt 1

A U2 song plays on WBOS…or MIX 98.5… or The River 92.5…or FNX…any other station out to torture us.

There’s a shooting in Dorchester or a house fire in Lynn.

A Subaru or Volvo drives below the speed limit in Newton.

Somebody says Guinness in Boston sucks compared to Guinness in Ireland.

Nobody knows who Tim Murray is.

Sans Caveat

The gas light is a brilliant idea. My car is low on gas, the light goes on. Yet just when I think everything is fine with a box of Kleenex, I’m out. No warning. Nothing. One minute all the tissues in the world, the next minute zippo.

Why is there no tissue light?

Acceptance

If you’re trapped in the world of Microsoft Outlook, you know the responses to a meeting invitation are quite basic - “Accept” or “Decline”

Here are some ideas for simple, yet useful, enhancements to Microsoft Outlook:

I accept …because I hit the wrong button.
I accept …because there is absolutely nothing else on my calendar.
I accept …but will likely be on some form of narcotic.
I accept …but still think you’re a tool.
I accept ...because I’d like to do you.
I accept ...will there be donuts?
I accept …and I’d like you to accept me too - is that too much to ask?
I accept… but will be hungover – so could you please keep it down?
I accept …and, yes, I promise to wear pants this time.
I accept …so shut up.

It's all about self expression. I write…because there is absolutely nothing else on my calendar.

Psst...

...Where's Waldo???

Single White Female

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I am officially launching the search for my perfect mate.

So right here on my very own bliggedy blog I am posting my very own bliggedy blog personal ad while ignoring the fact that most readers are related, unavailable, male, straight, or otherwise convinced I am insane. That said (and with a recycled headline - this time I mean it!), here it is:

No Wackos, No Mullets

Single white female, 30, blonde, blue, 5’8, seeks beautiful, intelligent woman for anything but arts and crafts, candlelit dinners, and ballroom dancing. Age/race unimportant. Must be open, honest, funny, and diverse with an appreciation for music, cheap slices of pizza, and random topics.

Beyond the basics:

You are intelligent – You’re the perfect Trivial Pursuit partner. You gently steer me from answering “King Tut” because you know the answer is “Volkswagon Beatle.”

You have a great sense of humor – Given my comment that the ultra-cool, castle-like architecture is a total waste on the Perkins School for the Blind, you laugh.

You’re focused – You never allow my loud burps to derail a conversation.

You have foresight – When I ask, “Are you going to eat that?” you know my next question will invariably be, “Well then…can I have it?”

You’re handy – When I’m too lazy to put my IKEA furniture together, you do so with finesse.

You sleep well – You peacefully sleep through my restlessness and don’t wake up if I am ironing pants at 4 am.

You like entertainment – You enjoy the puppet shows I put on just for you and overlook the fact that I can only do one puppet voice.

You’re intuitive – You have a built-in booze-o-meter that senses when someone (not it! not it!) should make a beer run.

Next steps:

Interested? Let's chat. Date #1 - The movies. Date #2 - The U-Haul.

Wish me luck!

Some Thoughts I've Had

1. I brought “sexy” back long before Justin Timberlake…surely you noticed.

2. If I ruled the world, I would do two things
- I would decree that more things should be minty. If it is good enough for toothpaste, isn’t it good enough for candles, perfumes, and flavorings? I would love each and every one of you significantly more if your homes smelled like mint…and, well, if you actually invited me into them.
- Nobody would wear a tunic. In fact, the word “tunic” wouldn’t exist, as it sounds painfully unshapely and ugly. Just say no to tunics.

3. I don’t understand the phrase “lend credence.” If I’m making an argument and some other detail supports what I’m saying, I’d prefer that I had credence for keeps. I find a loan unacceptable as far as credence is concerned and don’t understand when to return it.

4. Despite the common misconception, it is possible to enter Cinnabon, take in the dreamy scent of delicious Cinnabons, purchase a coffee, and leave with no actual Cinnabon purchase. Fight the urge!

A Club That Would Have Me As A Member

I went to a club – a gay club – with my friend Brooke last weekend. It was loud, crowded, and filled with people sporting a lot of hair gel and a lot of cotton. Seriously, who knew the layered t-shirt look I wear to buy zit cream at Target was high fashion? These people would give Eli Whitney a run for his money! (It should also be noted that I found myself checking out the wrong gender, but I assume it’s because they were so much prettier.)

Anyway, I realized I am painfully uncool from this experience. First, I knew none of the hip hop songs that seemed to prompt sweaty people to dance very closely ...and in most cases very poorly. So yes I am a folk fan, but I like to think I’m cool and still up with what the kids are listening to these days. But really, not so much. I hate it, didn’t know any of it, and would be very happy to never meet it again. Hip hop my ass.

I also noticed that some guy in a rap video looked like Orville Redenbocker and felt the need to point that out. Wonderful.

Second, I move. And I don’t mean that I dance or get things accomplished. Let me be very clear that I was neither a mover nor a shaker this weekend. What I discovered is that I move in the least cool way possible – I get out of the way. Perhaps it’s my mid-Western roots (would anyone care for something made with cream of mushroom soup?), but I politely step aside when people try to get by. Not cool. It's no wonder I went home alone, or well, with Brooke and Cat #1 with a strange peeing problem, Cat #2 who paces in circles, and a dog who recently had ass surgery. Nice.

Third, I wore a sweater. Now, who the HELL wears a red sweater to a club?!? I did, however, wear two layers of cotton underneath (who’s gay now!) and ultimately stripped down to a white t-shirt. Maybe other people can pull off this look, but I’m pretty sure I can’t. I probably looked like a high school English teacher dressed as the Fonz for the Halloween dance.

So after geeking it up for a few hours, I eventually put my red sweater back on and high-tailed it out of there. And that was my night.

As I think more about it, I guess anyone who goes to a flea market the day after going to a gay club can't possibly be cool. But what about someone who responds with “Actually, I prefer brunettes” to a creepy flea marketeer’s comment that “All blondes are cute”?

Would that be cool? Sure, I didn’t actually say this, but damnit I thought it later while sipping tea and watching The Golden Girls. And that my friends, makes me cool.