Monday, April 16, 2007
going green.
this is some fucking shit. for the record, it is April 16th, 2007 and there is a serious snow and wind effect going on right now. snow. in april. the middle of april. with police sirens about every 15 minutes. ok, maybe that piece i'm reading into a little too much. that's just good old Philadelphia! i invite anyone who doesn't believe in global warming to take a look at the blizzard outside my window. because i'm kind of scared the way a 7 year old freaks when they see lightening and hear thunder. i think instead of being a closet tree-hugger, i'm just going to go the blatant crunchy granola route. be proud to be green. i'm off to make a snowman on my way to work. and/or be killed by a bus when 50 knot gale force winds throw me in front of a bus. nor'easter 2007...woooooooo!!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Gin gimlets and my infinitesimal complex.
So my friend Lois is in Phila for only another month before she re-joins her 'vapid, but loving it' city of Los Angeles for good. So before I pull out my "Where's Lois" t-shirt that I will wear with pride, we figured we need to make the most of this time left. 11:30pm and we head to Snack Bar, which is the greatest thing to hit Center City in a while, to situate ourselves in posh mode, drinking ten dollar drinks, talking about handbags we don't even want to afford. But this is me and Lo, and we of course, move onto other topics of conversation. Mainly boys.
The bartender is totes cute. Friendly, dark hair, funny, diesel jeans and straight. which, if you know anything about Philadelphia or read my blog, this is a rather hard thing to find. So we're chatting it up, laughing, having a good time. He tells me he makes a damn good gimlet. I tell him to hook me up, but to make mine with gin. which evidently is hardcore and i get some recognition for that which makes me slightly impressed with myself. Next thing you know, this tiny, 4 foot 11 girl comes out of nowhere and is being all snuggly sweet with the bartender, in only the way that tiny, 4 foot 11 girls can be. Lo and I simultaneously take large gulps of our gimlets and let the fun begin. This chick has short hair, which all the more contributes to her 'I'm a 12 year old boy' look. But she can still wear a size 0, and so for that she has me beat. and she can snuggle up to this guy in that perfect, 'i-fit-right-under-your-arm-beneath-your-head' way that i never seem to be able to comfortably do. But I mean, Lo and I, we're fun girls. Like Xtina says, "can't hold us back". (Then again, Xtina is a little girl.) So I mean, we do it up. We talk, we laugh, we flirt, we effectively piss this girl off.
Listen, I'm 5 foot 7. with large childbearing hips for children i don't want. i have an ass. my Seven jeans are a size 30. in a thin month. i can't wear the tiny little tanks that are oh-so-cute in the summer. when i wear heels, i don't look like i'm playing dress up in my mom's closet. i will never be a tiny girl. i'm going to be 25 and i'm still trying to reconcile that notion. God knows, my friend Liesl and I never figured it out in high school or college. And clearly, three years after that, and I'm still here.
what happened to sweating the hot amazonian look? when did that go away????
models in america are hot. curves are not. No, men in america prefer little boys. or asian girls. i'm fucked.
asian girls and little girls who look like 12 year old boys. this is my competition.
So, finally, crunk off one huge gimlet, we say we're leaving, the bartender tells us we shouldn't go. The infinitesimal girl rolls her eyes, and scene. Whatever. Our work is done. And in all our 5 foot 7, badonkadonk glory, we squeeze between the bar and the door, while the 12 year old stands on her tiptoes to kiss her bartender.
On that note, I'm off to do a one mile "fun run" in torrential downpour at the Mann Center in order to help eliminate the epidemic of youth violence in Philadelphia. And the fact that Physicians for Social Responsibility has organized it has nothing to do with it. Really.
The bartender is totes cute. Friendly, dark hair, funny, diesel jeans and straight. which, if you know anything about Philadelphia or read my blog, this is a rather hard thing to find. So we're chatting it up, laughing, having a good time. He tells me he makes a damn good gimlet. I tell him to hook me up, but to make mine with gin. which evidently is hardcore and i get some recognition for that which makes me slightly impressed with myself. Next thing you know, this tiny, 4 foot 11 girl comes out of nowhere and is being all snuggly sweet with the bartender, in only the way that tiny, 4 foot 11 girls can be. Lo and I simultaneously take large gulps of our gimlets and let the fun begin. This chick has short hair, which all the more contributes to her 'I'm a 12 year old boy' look. But she can still wear a size 0, and so for that she has me beat. and she can snuggle up to this guy in that perfect, 'i-fit-right-under-your-arm-beneath-your-head' way that i never seem to be able to comfortably do. But I mean, Lo and I, we're fun girls. Like Xtina says, "can't hold us back". (Then again, Xtina is a little girl.) So I mean, we do it up. We talk, we laugh, we flirt, we effectively piss this girl off.
Listen, I'm 5 foot 7. with large childbearing hips for children i don't want. i have an ass. my Seven jeans are a size 30. in a thin month. i can't wear the tiny little tanks that are oh-so-cute in the summer. when i wear heels, i don't look like i'm playing dress up in my mom's closet. i will never be a tiny girl. i'm going to be 25 and i'm still trying to reconcile that notion. God knows, my friend Liesl and I never figured it out in high school or college. And clearly, three years after that, and I'm still here.
what happened to sweating the hot amazonian look? when did that go away????
models in america are hot. curves are not. No, men in america prefer little boys. or asian girls. i'm fucked.
asian girls and little girls who look like 12 year old boys. this is my competition.
So, finally, crunk off one huge gimlet, we say we're leaving, the bartender tells us we shouldn't go. The infinitesimal girl rolls her eyes, and scene. Whatever. Our work is done. And in all our 5 foot 7, badonkadonk glory, we squeeze between the bar and the door, while the 12 year old stands on her tiptoes to kiss her bartender.
On that note, I'm off to do a one mile "fun run" in torrential downpour at the Mann Center in order to help eliminate the epidemic of youth violence in Philadelphia. And the fact that Physicians for Social Responsibility has organized it has nothing to do with it. Really.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
So what you're saying is there's a chance....
Considering all I can think about lately is all the things I don't/can't/won't ever have, I decided to make a list of all things that I would love to do. These are a bunch of things I’d like to accomplish in my life. Some of them are things I fantasize about but know they’ll never happen (getting liposuction, skydiving, finding one of the kids who's been on "My Super Sweet 16" and physically assaulting them), and others are things that I feel are semi-possible – even more so when I say them out loud. So here goes. Before I die, I’d like to:
- Live in
- Consistently work out on a daily basis again.
- Buy a house/townhouse/condo. Anything really with separate rooms that no one else owns.
- Get a breakout role in a feature film and be on my way to living in the Hollywood Hills with paparazzi hiding in my bushes. But only so I can throw things at them and flash them commando style and have them really, really care.
- Take gourmet cooking classes so I can cook something resembling anything other than the art that is mixing three cereals in a drinking cup.
- Date a soft spoken, intelligent guy who is simultaneously cute, wears good jeans, has hot sneakers, is okay with the metro label and isn't in any way, shape or form pretentious, obnoxious, jealous or in any other way identifies with the term douchebaggery. Oh, and has dark hair and is tall.
- Have someone fabulous help me decorate my apartment with antiques and garage sale treasures.
- Visit
- Bust out a PhD or PsyD in the minimum amount of time required and wow everyone at the dissertation committee with my unbelievable intelligence, quick wit and innovative hypotheses.
- Have a group of friends that all live in the same place at the same time and are content being there and haven't gone on to have families and babies and sell out.
- Get to a point where I don't think banking on your significant other's $ and/or having kids with no semblance of another part of your life is selling out.
- Sit front row at an amazing concert, an NBA finals game, the Academy Awards or any other supremely exciting event.
- Get a degree in something that I would never really think of getting a job in .
- Co-own a city coffee shop with a really awesome friend.
- Be financially stable enough to get weekly manicures and monthly massages and facials.
- Be a front runner protester in D.C. and have an excuse to go all out with crazy t-shirts and huge signs proclaiming extreme liberal and feminist ideas. Mostly because it would be hilarious, but a little bit because I would probably totally believe in it.
- Retire with the ability to have a huge SoHo loft, a glassed in home on the beach in Pacific Heights and a lovely little villa in Capri...or Tuscany.
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