inexpressive platitudes

Ch-ch-changes

2008-08-03T01:36:00.002-05:00

It has been nearly two years since my last post.
I'm just impressed that I remembered how to log in.

The Past Two Years of My Life, Bullet-Pointed, and In No Particular Order:

The Man proposed!
And then we married
Honeymooned in St. John
Bought a house
Adopted a dog
Started previously-mentioned MEd program
Earned previously-mentioned MEd degree
Read approximately 84 books
Graded approximately 1,400 pages of high school essays
Ate an estimated 208 Chipotle burrito bols
Visited Greece with 40 adolescents
Watched about 114 movies
Smiled at countless strangers
Traded in the SUV for a Honda Civic and never looked back

It's been grand.

The Boys

2006-08-08T01:15:00.000-05:00

The Boys: A Photo Study

Vincey Vincenzo
Responsible, intelligent, dangerously handsome

Geddy Spaghetti, AKA Peanut
Quirky, fragile, incredibly high jumper

Manny Manifesto
Smushy, sleepy, constant object of photo opps

Say It Ain't So

2006-08-03T15:59:00.000-05:00

Do grown adults really watch The Hills? Do they really watch MTV, for that matter? A blog I peruse just had a fairly extensive discussion about some privileged California twenty-somethings on MTV. Can it really be true? Perhaps the blog is a ruse designed to confuse the hell out of me.

Are you an adult? Do you watch MTV? Regularly?

Why.

Not that it's a bad thing . . .

101 Update, and a Bit o Bitching

2006-07-31T15:15:00.000-05:00

Met with my school's superintendent today. The school will pay for me to attend grad school again. I can't even explain how excited I am--I get to go back to school and I don't have to pay for it?! Is this a dream? I have not even started working at this school yet, by the way.

So, goals #45 and #46 are currently in progress. And no, it's not cheating to have two related goals--the master's program and the Reading Specialist cert happen to be related, okay. Get over it.

And now to bitch a little: my former employer did not acknowledge my departure at all. Sure, my boss was recovering from surgery, and her boss was out of town. But seriously, people, everyone knew it was my last day for a while now. I felt hurt and really pissed off for my entire last day there. But then I made up for it by turning my nameplate around and writing "Holiday was here" on the back side before I left. Not sure why that gave me pleasure, but surely the why isn't the point.

The Best Things, Part III

2006-07-27T19:05:00.000-05:00

Big, greying, panting chocolate labs named Clementine. I met her at the vet's office today, and she was just delightful. Her owner was quite lovely, too.

Count Me In

2006-07-26T02:08:00.000-05:00

I'm joining the 101 in 1001 bandwagon. Progress to be posted.

But the test says I'm a strong Democrat

2006-07-24T23:55:00.000-05:00

I think of myself as a Libertarian. It must have been that question about disallowing loggers to log . . .

You are a
Social Liberal
(80% permissive)

and an...
Economic Liberal
(23% permissive)

You are best described as a:

Strong Democrat

Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid
Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

I'm With the Band

2006-07-19T21:08:00.000-05:00

I've always wanted to be a rock star--I even wrote an entire essay about it in my Vanderbilt University Law School Scholarship Application. They didn't exactly give me the scholarship, but I digress . . .

The real question here is What would you name your band? I come across so many perfect band names every day, I can hardly choose.

Here's a sample of recent picks (to be updated as new ones hit me):

Passive Aggressive Weenies
Javelin (*Note: This is my favorite word. I want to name everything Javelin. I'd name myself Javelin if I wasn't so darn content with my current name.)
Consistently Meeting Diane (This is from a friend's story about a ridiculous job performance review, after which she called herself "Consistenly Meeting Diane". I'd also use this as the title for a novel.)

Oh, The Girls

2006-07-17T12:44:00.000-05:00

Went to Ravinia Friday with The Weasel, Her Man, and The Man and spent several glorious hours (well, not really several) listening to the Indigo Girls from the lawn. It was divine, and it was my first Indigo Girls concert! I know, the shame . . .

The night was perfect, though. We got there several hours early (this was the Inidgo Girls at Ravinia, after all) and lit some citronellas, had a Chipotle picnic, beer and wine, read some good literature, and soaked up the immensely good people watching opps. I loved it.

I wish every night was a Ravinia night.

Extremely Offensive or Just Plain Hilarious? Part Deux

2006-07-10T14:22:00.000-05:00

catsthatlooklikehitler.com

And as a practicing Jew, let me be the first to say that I find this to be Just Plain Hilarious. If it was welovehitler.com or wewishallcatslookedlikehitler.com then perhaps I'd find it to be Extremely Offensive. But as it is, I vote Just Plain Hilarious.

Kitler #1 is my personal favorite, by the way.

Thoughts?

I Love This Man

2006-07-05T14:49:00.000-05:00

And no, I'm not talking about The Man (though I do love him, too.) I'm talking about Paul Simon. Went with The Folks to see him perform at Summerfest and it was great. He did not, however, play my favorite song, but I'll forgive him.

Show highlights: incredibly unexpected performances of Loves Me Like a Rock (it's so old!) and Cecilia (Simon & Garfunkel).

I can't decide if this show was better than Simon & Garfunkel at the United Center in 2004 . . . I'm still reeling from all the excitement.

Next up: Indigo Girls with The Weasel and Our Men at Ravinia! This will be my first time seeing The Girls (as This Chick likes to call them), so I am super excited. And it's Ravinia, so we get to bring our own libations, too.

Creepy Fun

2006-06-21T10:53:00.000-05:00

Here are the rules. The other stuff is below that.

1) Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2) I will respond by asking you five questions of a very intimate and creepily personal nature.
3) You WILL update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4) You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5) When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

These are the 5 questions asked of me by Lemonpoop:

1) Do you consider yourself lucky?
No, I think luck is a moot point; I don't believe in it. I'm extremely happy with my life and with the people I surround myself with, and I like to take all the credit for that happiness, thankyouverymuch. I hate to put The Fates out of business, but all that hoo-ha about weaving, measuring, and cutting life threads just makes me uncomfortable. I see the concept of luck along those same lines.

2) Estimate the following as percentages of your personal makeup: love, bullshit, unknown, conviction
Interesting.
Love: 42%
Bullshit: 4%
Unknown: 3%
Conviction: 51%%

3) For eternity…animals but no people, or all/only the people you’ve met in your life that you haven’t liked and no animals?
Definitely animals but no people. Why would I want to keep all the assholes around? Nope. I've actually contemplated how I might manage to a) buy and island, and b) populate it with nothing but cats and dogs, and c) take care of said cats and dogs.

4) Tomorrow I would most like to wake up and find that I am a fully qualified ______________ (insert any profession).
Rock star. More specifically--lead singer in a famously wild hard rock band. I'd include the following items in my rider request:
- Claussen whole pickles in sealed jar
- Dolfino havarti with dill, sliced thinly and chilled
- When Harry Met Sally on dvd, paused at the scene with the Asian couple describing how they first met

5) How long can you keep this* up? *interpret in any way you wish
If you're trying to get me to fess up to that thing that we said we would never talk about again, you are so out of luck. I wasn't there, I didn't see anything, and I do not know what happened to your curly green wig. Now get over it.

The Best Things, Part II

2006-06-06T14:30:00.000-05:00

The corner of my desk is now inhabited with a jar of Jelly Bellies. A coworker (who knows me well enough to know that I heart Jelly Bellies) gave them to me. They were originally for the scores of wild, rampant children that inhabit our school's preschool program. Lucky for me, the little midgets weren't so keen on the scrumptious bean-like morsels.

So here I am, trying to get through mounds of report cards, and I cannot stop staring at this technicolor jar. It's glorious! (Think glorious as in Will Ferrel, Old School, anyway . . . )

Each bite is a journey into flavorland. I feel like Violet from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory ("Violet you're turning violet, Violet!") except without the nasty side effects.

To be serious, though, what a fabulous invention these little candies are. Instead of eating popcorn, why don't you just pop a popcorn-flavored Jelly Belly in your mouth? And why waste your time looking for one of those overpriced child-manned lemonade stands when you can just chew a little yellow bean and call it a day? There's even a margarita flavored Jelly Belly for all those wanna-be legal under 21-year-olds. Fantastic.

In fact, the only logical question to ask here is Where the hell is the chicken vesuvio Jelly Belly? Or mashed potatoes? Green beans? Think about the time I could save in preparation--no more defrosting or baking. (Oh, who the hell am I kidding? The only things I defrost come pre-cooked in packages with microwave instructions on the side.) Nonetheless--think of the convenience and ease of popping a few beans in your mouth for dinner.

As an American, I find it truly unAmerican that such a product does not yet exist. Why on earth are we still preparing and messing around with food when we have the perfect insta-eat prototype in the beloved Jelly Belly? What's next--will the trend move toward parents actually spending time with their children rather than plopping them in front of the television? Are we going to start championing philanthropists rather than movie stars?

Let's have a little pride here, people--if you're an American, let me hear a "Goooooo WalMart!" Say it loud, people, say it loud. There's nothing like mass-market consumerism.

And, my friends, this is why I have chosen to name Jelly Bellies as the second item on my list of The Best Things in Life.

*Please note that the author does, in fact, love Jelly Bellies, and all rants associated with this particular post should be accredited to the fact that she is just too darn tired at the moment to deal with the paradox that is her love for Jelly Bellies and her disdain for the American consumer culture. And yes, many Jelly Bellies were ingested during the course of this post. And yes, the author is a hypocrite, as although she does not shop at WalMart, she does spend a great deal of money at Target. Even after finding out about the whole birth control distribution mishigas. She's a work in progress, people, be kind.

I GOT A NEW JOB!!!!

2006-05-29T23:40:00.000-05:00

Landed a terrific job teaching in a terrific high school for the fall.
I could not be happier.

In other news, The Man gave me a pair of brand spanking new rollerblades as a "Yeah (and thank thedeityofyourchoice that) You Got a NEW Job! gift. Tried them out the last few days and fell in love. They are so much nicer than my old ski boot blades.
Must practice daily in order to prepare for the next Roller Derby tryouts.

In Yes This is a True Story News, one day during the bout of storms that has plagued Chicago the last few weeks I found myself chasing after my lovely little demon dog in a bath robe and bare feet as she headed to jump the six foot fence that keeps her in the yard. She made it to the top, I grabbed her waist, and she clawed up until I dragged her back to the ground. It was really a lovely sight, I'm sure. And I had to re-clean my feet, too. The beast. Then, she came in the house and proceeded to tear apart the carpeting in the front room, it eases her anxiety.

Did I mention I got a new job for the fall?

Missing In Action

2006-05-22T08:06:00.000-05:00

Oh my poor little blog, I have missed you! I was ill last week and neglected my blog, so apologies, apologies. Many blogworthy things have happened, so I will update very soon.

A Moose, a Weasel, a Whole Lotta Fun

2006-05-11T23:25:00.000-05:00

So The Weasel (read: my little sis) is home from school now, which means I get to enjoy that feeling of being completely at ease with myself and my behavior and choices without really having to think about myself or my behavior or choices. It's not that I spend any time feeling ill at ease when I'm with anyone else, it's that The Weasel brings out all sides of me, some of which seem to hide when she's not around.

Example: We spent some time together tonight. This is how we spent it:
Moose (The Weasel's nickname for me, flattering, I know): (High-pitched screechy voice) Weasey!!
Weasel: (High-pitched screechier voice) Moosey!!
(hug, then both The Weasel and Moose pretend to look the other up and down disapprovingly, laughter)
Moose: I have a new song obsession. (Puts cd mix from Rita's bachelorette party into player, blasts Big & Rich's Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy)
(Moose and Weasel spend at least ten minutes dancing around the house like maniacs, screaming song lyrics, and fending off the dogs who seem to think that dancing is an invitation to either a) hump one's leg, or b) gnaw playfully on one's forearm.)
Music stops, Moose and Weasel sit at kitchen table.
Weasel: (Pulls Welch's grape juice bottle out of her duffel bag) Want?
Moose: Ooooh yes! (Grabs Welch's grape juice bottle and hugs it to her chest, then runs away and pretends to hide it from Weasel.)

This exchange continued for quite some time, Weasel mocked Moose for having lower back pain, Moose mocked Weasel for being born with a tail, etc.

Here's the thing: I'm a completely "normal" individual until The Weasel comes around. Once we're together, it's a crapshoot. And it feels really good.

I have an inkling that we become friends with people who bring out a slice of this uninhibited, free to be me crap that The Weasel and I seem to experience around each other. This Chick, for example, has a way of getting my twisted sense of humor to show its face. And I love it.

But the question is, why do some people bring these things out in me and others don't? Why am I not always a booty-shaking, bizarrely humorous person? Are we hardwired to show only bits of ourselves, and we adjust depending on some sort of feedback that we get from others? It's almost like that feeling you get when you meet a new person but you are oddly comfortable with them, and exhilarated from talking with them. Or is it something completely different? A conundrum, I tell you.

On the flipside, however, are the people that see you waving your freak flag gloriously, and it's completely normal to them. Example: The first time The Man and I went out we sat in a coffee shop and talked it up for hours. Afterward, I told The Weasel and Her Man that "I had weird turned up all the way." After all, if we're going to date, he must be comfortable with my full-on weirdness. The result: Several months later my mother said to The Man I don't know how you put up with Holiday, she is insane (her favorite adjective for describing me). The Man's resonse was Insane? What are you talking about? She never acts strange around me. (The Family Holiday proceeded to freeze in place, drop jaws in unison, and stare in disbelief at The Man.)

One man's insane is another man's Holiday, I suppose.

If Only We Celebrated Christmas

2006-05-10T10:55:00.000-05:00

This would be our Christmas card:

From the Botanic Garden Reindog Parade, December 2005

And yes, the dogs were humiliated. We assuaged their anxiety with treats galore, okay? Now calm down. They're fine. Killian (left) actually likes dressing up. Tallulah, not so much, but she tolerates us and our flights of fancy.

It's Just That Simple

2006-05-09T21:54:00.000-05:00

Your Task: To express your own personal life mottomaximadagesayingviewaxiomaphorismslogan in one word.

Reason: I'm just curious. And I'm having trouble deciding out my own. I used to carry a stone around that said "passion" but now I think that's just rubbish.

Lisa Rinna Complex

2006-05-08T17:53:00.000-05:00

I bit down on my upper lip this weekend, and the right side has since swelled up all Lisa Rinna-esque. And well, mine are big enough as it is.

Speaking of, a favorite site of mine posts pictures of celebrites with horrible plastic surgery. It's really just another indulgent way to make myself feel better about what I've already got. It works, try it.

good lord

2006-05-06T16:41:00.000-05:00

In yet another attempt to avoid completing this ridiculous online class that the state of Illinois has ruthlessly forced upon me, I purchased this book. Now, I don't have a novel in the works, and don't worry, I will not subject you to droolings of sentimental, unedited fiction.

Rather, when I bought this book I thought "Self, you might be able to use this sort of method should you find yourself teaching a creative writing course (for which you are wholly underqualified and unprepared) again." So I took it home and let it sit on my desk for several days.

I just read the first chapter, in which author Wiesner boosts the reader's confidence in her expertise by saying things like

Since I've been using (this) process, the most time it take me to complete an outline of a book--regardless of length--is two to three weeks. And it only takes me one or two months to complete a first and final manuscript draft. (7)

I temporarily let my Nasty Judgmental Side coerce my Open Minded Benefit-of-the-Doubt-Giving Side that this author must be another peddler of uttercrapnovels who happened to find some publisher willing to put this particular book on a real bookstore shelf. So what else could I do? I googled her.

Her webpage is titled The World of Award-Winning Author Karen Wiesner. Oh good lord. Sure enough, Ms. Nasty Judgmental Side was correct--Wiesner has published over 28 novels. However, they are all from POD publishers, or better yet--some are published electronically. Now I know not all POD books are crap, but I also know that POD publishers will publish anything that you send them, regardless of its uttercrapiness level.

So here's my beef--I purchased this book in a real bookstore, yet it's written by a writer who has only published POD and electronic novels, AKA novels that are not available in a real bookstore. What a crock. I've played those video games where you follow the bad guys with big weapons--does that mean I'm qualified to train Marine infantry? Where do I sign up? Hey--I'd look pretty damn good in camouflage.

So what are you qualified to do, now that technically-published writers are really-publishing how to books? We must take advantage, mustn't we?

I plan to become a cartographer. I have traveled, after all, and one generally travels across geography.

What's in a number?

2006-05-02T21:20:00.000-05:00

Witness the following interaction between Holiday and The Man at their recent Bin 36 shindig:

Holiday: How many movies do you think we've seen in the theatre over the last two years?
The Man: Eight or 12, probably.
H: (Dismayed) Eight or 12!? What are you thinking? We've seen at least thirty movies together over the last two years!
The Man: (adamant) Get out of here, thirty!? That's insane.

Now would be a good time to divulge an important fact about the way The Man and I generally spend our time. Barring the existence of actual weekend plans or trips, we typically rotate the following activities:
Eating meals at Chipotle or ordering in
Gracing some downtown bar with our presence and then wondering at the bargoers who all seem to be oh-so-impressed with themselves
Watching our favorite shows on the dvr (The Sopranos, Lost, Blow Out)
Working out
Sharing our joint amazement about the fact that everyone else in the world seems to be crazy or off in some way, and then discussing why said others are crazy or off
AND (drumroll, please . . . )
Going to the movies

Now, we are not what you would call movie connoisseurs. Movie whores would probably be more like it--we claim no loyalty to any director, genre, or style. We prefer horror, but that's only for the cheap thrill and not for any artistic sensitibilities. But one thing is for sure--we are not casual moviegoers. We go so often that I'm a bit hurt that the ticket-takers don't greet us by name. But I digress, back to how I was right and he was wrong.

We decided to settle the issue by listing the movie's we've seen together. Let's just say our list started out with twenty, grew to more than thirty, and as it stands at this moment, it has grown to 45. I win.

Here's the list thus far (in no particular order): The Hills Have Eyes, Saw I, Saw II, The Village, Boogeyman, Hostel, The Devil's Rejects, The Amityville Horror, When a Stranger Calls, The Forgotten, White Noise, Flightplan, In Good Company, Finding Neverland, Superman, King Kong, Sideways, War of the Worlds, The Last Samurai, Star Wars, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Kingdom of Heaven, Sinc City, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I, Robot, The Bourne Supremacy, Open Water, Collateral, Exorcist: The Beginning, Paparazzi, Shaun of the Dead, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Ocean's Twelve, The 40 Year Old Virgin, Fun with Dick and Jane, Hitch, Thank You For Smoking, Meet the Fockers, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Wolf Creek, Cinderella Man, Batman Begins, Wedding Crashers

Now I am not proud of this list, rather, I'm just trying to make a point. And that point is: I was right.

The Best Things

2006-05-02T08:33:00.000-05:00

I had the best commute home the other day, and it was all thanks to an adorable little German Shepherd puppy bouncing around the back of his Mama's red Passat. The little guy, who I like to think of as "Herman", was so happy to be on a ride he couldn't contain himself. So I stayed right behind that red Passat despite the fact that she was going at least five mph under the limit, which I normally find incredibly irritating. At every stop light I bantered with Herman using my best puppy dog voice, and shook my head and flailed my hands to show him my overwhelming enthusiasm for making his acquaintance, and I just know he heard me because dogs have incredible hearing, right?

At about the third light I noticed Herman's Mama watching me in her side view mirror and laughing. That didn't even phase me though, because I could tell she was laughing out of sheer happiness that Herman was making new friends.

Our Best Friendship lasted until I was about to almost-but-not-quite miss my turn, at which point I hastily got into the turn lane in front of a very angry Woman in a Big White SUV Jibber-Jabbering on Her Cell Phone who proceeded to communicate with me in much the same way as I had done with Herman, although her sentiment seemed less optimistic in nature (which was not surprising as we have very many of her sort around here.)

Anyway, the important thing here is that Herman and his overwhelming puppy-ness made me feel light and happy for the rest of the day, which is why I am making German Shepherd Puppies Bouncing Around in the Back of Passats the very first item on my list of The Best Things in life. Which just goes to show you that the saying is surprisingly true, since Herman's friendship was, indeed, free.

And Then There Was One

2006-05-01T17:26:00.000-05:00

This Chick and I are becoming one person, and I'm frightened.

It all began innocently enough--saying the exact same random phrase at the exact same time. (Think: calling the restroom "the loo" without any reference to a) restrooms, or b) English-style phraseology.)

And then it got scary--posting entire blog entries about the same exact thing, and choosing the same time (during the workday, mind you) to write said entries.

And then it got downright criminal--when I went to the parking lot I found that our cars had morphed into one gold and black sedan-SUV hybrid (think: "mix" not "green") with the crap we've both been hauling around piled up in the back, very road trip-esque.

Okay, so I haven't really been out to the parking lot yet, and I haven't seen my car, but this would be the next logical step in all this madness, of course.

The upside--our car payments would go down then, right?

(*NOTE: The melding is not yet completed, as illustrated by the fact that This Chick is still Smarter Than The Internet, and I certainly am not. I can't wait to be, though. Wait wait wait wait.)

What a Weekend

2006-04-30T23:54:00.000-05:00

This weekend was eventful enough to blow my entire mission, which it did in terms of eating habits, but not in terms of keeping in touch with great people. Regardless, it was well worth it.

Friday I actually didn't do much in terms of entertainment because I had to plan a lesson for my Saturday class (which went GREAT by the way, thanks for asking.)

Saturday I woke up very early, taught until noon, and then met Melinda for lunch at this great diner on Touhy. Lunch lasted three hours because Melinda and I do not see each other enough. It's so nice to be able to pick up on a conversation with someone every six months and still feel like no time has passed at all.

THEN I spent Saturday night at The Man's helping him study for a huge exam he has this Thursday. I'm not sure how much I helped because I don't know enough about biomechanics to actually tell whether or not he was answering the questions correctly, but they sounded good enough.

Here's a sample of The Attempted Studying:
Holiday: What are three things that directionally affect force?
The Man: Moment arms, lever length, and rotational blah blah blah . . . (don't quote me here, I don't have a clue what these mean, and in fact, they probably do not exist. I'm working from memory, people, give me some slack.)
Holiday: Ummmm, no.
The Man: What? That's not right? What does the outline say?
Holiday: Ummm, it says "distance between point of applied force and point of movement, the length of the yadda yadda . . . "
The Man: (Defensive) Honey, that's what I said. Those mean the same thing I said. You know that.
Holiday: (Irritated) Well I don't know that. It sounds completely different. I can't do this.
The Man: Yes you can, you just have to read the entire answer before you ask me a question.
Holiday: !@*!?
(Repeat for several hours, adding increased irritation every twenty minutes or so.)

We ordered calzones from Pockets for dinner, which certainly didn't help my mission, but the gooey cheesy deliciousness outweighed any mission remorse I would have had.

Sunday was a blast. Got together with The Girls at Dianne's for a crafty madness day. In truth, we did more eating and talking than anything else, but it was great. I got about an inch finished on a bracelet for The Man's little niece, so that was progress enough. And I had my first taste of brie spread, which I LOVED. I'm a big fan of baked brie, but I've never ventured into the spread department, yummy. (No comments about aforementioned mission, please. I know.)

Then I took The Man to Bin 36 for a Movies in the Loft dinner. Highly recommended. The wine was flowing, the cheese was plentiful, and the movie was great. We got a loveseat right up front, cozied up in front of the big screen, and took in a Dynamite Flick. We want to get a group together for the next one. Any takers?

What'cha Reading?

2006-04-27T15:15:00.000-05:00

What's on your nightstand? Reading anything good? I'm looking for some good pre-summer reading, so do share, please!

I'm finishing Laurie Graff's You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs, which I picked up for some light, committment-free reading. It's a bit disappointing, I must admit. The characters are all two-dimensional at best, and after almost 400 pages I still don't know what makes main character Karrie Kline "tick". Graff's descriptions of Karrie's outrageous dating stories are somewhat redemptive by offering some stellar comedic moments. However, overall, not a winner. The worst part--Graff refers to Reform Judaism as "Reformed". So ignorant.

mememememe (part 2)

2006-04-25T21:52:00.000-05:00

More entertaining self-reflection

I AM: Holiday
I WANT: a boat (my birthday is October 8th, by the way)
I WISH: on the moon, stars are too tiny
I HATE: opening the Dill Havarti and realizing that it is spoiled (ahem, Garden Fresh)
I MISS: my cat, Sebastian The Little Man
I HEAR: Paul Simon, Negotiations and Love Songs
I WONDER: about inconsequential matters, and then drive The Man crazy with them
I REGRET: being mean to The Weasel when she was younger, and trading my pennies for her dimes
I AM NOT: consistently rational
I DANCE: to my own beat
I SING: Janis Joplin's Mercedes Benz in the car, a lot
I CRY: at the most inopportune times
I AM NOT ALWAYS: patient
I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: bracelets, buttons, anything to divert my attention from doing real work
I WRITE: utter nonsense
I CONFUSE: myself while driving, and then I call The Man in a panic
I NEED: a new pack of dental floss, and I was just at Target, rats
I SHOULD: be grading papers
I START: false rumors to see how far they'll go
I FINISH: the bowl of my father's Famous Mashed Potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner every year

Your turn!

self

Extremely Offensive or Just Plain Hilarious?

2006-04-25T21:04:00.000-05:00

Rice Rockets

I had never heard of this term until Dianne used it casually in conversation. It did not require any further explanation, however, because it's just so on-point when used in the right context, such as:

"This guy totally drives a Rice Rocket; it's obvious he's obsessed with appearances."

So here's the question--as a plain old white girl, can I use Rice Rocket and get away with it? Thoughts?

I Heart Feather Boas

2006-04-24T17:38:00.000-05:00

My weekend was fabulous, and let me tell you why. Not only was it jam-packed (which is unusual for me because I'm very bad at making plans in advance,) but I also met a ton of great new people (and no, I'm not referring to The Romanian,) AND I squeezed in some much-needed quality time with good friends.

The crowning experience of the weekend, however, is that I got to walk around a bar with a feather boa wrapped around my head. Let me explain before you go ahead and draw your own nasty conclusions.

Saturday night was Rita's bachelorette party, and we did the night up right. Well, I can't really take credit for doing anything, I just showed up, drank some alcohol, and wore the boa. SO in true bachelorette fashion, we waltzed into the bar hugged in feathers, Rita had the little veil on and looked gorgeous, and then the magic happened. Something about that boa gave me the moxie to get up on that stage with the girls and shake it.

Now, the club was hot and the boa was hotter, so at some point I marched into the loo, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and wrapped that boa around my head. I totally looked like something out of a follies show in Vegas, which made me shake it even more. At one point I had two boas wrapped around my head, I'll post that picture when I get it.

The night was so much fun, the dj was in love with one of our party so he played whatever we wanted and gave us a ton of shout outs, and I got to meet Rita's amazing friends, who I totally want to party with again. And while logically, I know that it was the people who made the night so great, I'm choosing to keep the dream alive and give some credit to that boa.

I'm thinking of keeping the boa. And I shall call her Persephone.

Romanian Come-Ons

2006-04-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

Okay, it was just one come-on, but it sounds better in the plural.

I was hit on by a 60-ish Romanian man outside my grandmother's building this Saturday. And when I say hit on, I really mean talked at, grabbed by the hand, and forced to undergo a bristly kiss on the wrist.

So my grandmother, Helga, lives in the city. I teach in Evanston on Saturday mornings, so I stopped by her place after class to take her out for lunch. The Romanian (we'll call him Roman) was sitting in her lobby when I pulled up. When I went to buzz Helga to let her know I was there, Roman came into the waiting area for no apparent reason other than to eavesdrop on our conversation.

Now, it's important to mention here that Helga is an 82 pound ball of German fire. She never lost her accent, she has no time for pleasantries, and she just started saying "I love you" to her grandchildren some time within the last few years. I LOVE her.

Back to Roman. He's a talker, so he started doing what he does best as soon as I got off the line with Helga. Our exchange went something like this:

Roman: Are you Europa?

Holiday: If you mean European, I suppose yes. My family is from Berlin, I was born in Chicago."

Roman: I am from Romania . . . (several minutes of words I couldn't decipher) . . . I played soccer in Cuba but had to go to Poland to escape KGB (What?!) . . . (more undecipherable babble) . . . I have niece she is tall and has hair dark like you . . . Communists ruin my country . . . I enjoy German women . . . (something about being strong enough to play soccer followed by nonstop babble . . . )

Holiday: Nods and shakes head politely, but not nicely enough to seem interested.

Enter Helga. Helga sees Roman conversing with her grandaughter, Helga shuffles out of the building, keeps a ten-foot distance between herself and Roman as she enters granddaughter's car, slams door, and proceeds to glare at Roman while banging her knuckles against the window and flailing her arms to motion for granddaughter to step away from undecipherable Romanian man and take her to lunch. Helga has perfected her angry face over the last 80 odd years, by the way, so this is quite intimidating. A wave of loathing suddenly washes over granddaughter for fear of being ripped into upon entrance to the vehicle.

Holiday: Well, that was interesting. Enjoy your day.

Roman: Wait, you have husband?

Holiday: Boyfriend. Two years. We'll be married very soon.

Roman: You need new boyfriend, strong Romanian to keep you safe. (Stealthily grabs Holiday's arm as she is departing, and plants a big fat one on the back of her wrist. Holiday fears that his facial hair will irritate her skin, yanks arm back, and walks to the driver's side of the car. Roman follows, but she shuts the door just in time.

In car

Helga: (Very thick German accent) That old cocker (she makes up her own words) sees a beautiful young girl and swoops in. (Helga continues to rant about Roman throughout the rest of the day, and fears that he will track her down in the building and force her to surrender Holiday's phone number. Helga then bans Holiday from entering the building without a Strong Male Protection, should she end up stuck in an elevator with Roman, and then godonlyknowswhat might happen. Holiday reminds Helga that Roman is elderly and therefore she can overpower him with her mean kickboxing skills should anything happen. Helga scolds Holiday for joking around about such a serious matter, and then reminds her to wash her wrist before they eat.

My favorite part was that Helga suggested he was after me for my money. I'm a 25-year-old teacher, so if that's the case, this guy is so off his game.

The whole debacle was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a few glasses of white wine for Helga, and a trip to Osco to supplement her current stash of Gallo Vermouth. Yes, I know Vermouth is supposed to be an ingredient, but try telling that to Helga.

mememememe

2006-04-20T20:18:00.000-05:00

This chick sent me this forward a long time ago, and to my delight I still had it in my inbox.
Entertaining self-reflection, I say.

Describe yourself using one band and song titles from that bandChoose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band: Paul Simon
Are you male or female: Hey Schoolgirl
Describe yourself: Still Crazy After All These Years
How do some people feel about you: A Most Peculiar Man
How do you feel about yourself: The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine (I couldn't resist)Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: The Boy in the Bubble
Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend: Something So Right
Describe where you want to be: Somewhere They Can't Find Me
Describe what you want to be: Killer Wants to Go to College
Describe how you live: The Dangling Conversation
Describe how you love: Hearts and Bones
Share a few words of wisdom: One Man's Ceiling is Another Man's Floor

I LOVE it--share yours in a comment, please.

I've so got this mission covered

2006-04-19T22:16:00.000-05:00

I'd like you to know that I hauled my rear to the grocery after work, purchased the following items, prepared and consumed them with The Man this evening:

A simple yet healthy salad:

Fresh peppers: 1 red, 1 green, 1 orange
Celery
Carrots
Grape tomatoes
Extra sharp cheddar cheese (just a bit)
Organic ranch dressing
Iceberg lettuce
Baby spinach leaves

Chicken breasts grilled on The George, sliced, and tossed into the salad

And it was de-lish. Our normal Wednesday night fare consists of order-in pizza, Pockets, or something absolutely yummy yet very very anti-mission.

In more interesting news, I'd like to take this opportunity to announce to the world that my sister, The Weasel, was born with a tail.

I love my friends

2006-04-18T18:53:00.000-05:00

A dear friend of mine just sent me this picture with the caption "here's a picture of my dream wedding".

He is so damn cool.

Another friend of mine says great things like "my grandpa has a girlfriend. Her name is Ginny and she has lots of opinions" and "black crepe paper rubs off purple on your hands". The best part is that these comments are always said sans relevant context.

She also has fits of uncontrollable laughter in the middle of the workday.

My Cat Mazi

2006-04-18T17:16:00.000-05:00

is the cutest little cat EVER. She sleeps on my shoulder every night, and often nuzzles her face against mine until I give in and cuddle her a bit more. She is fifteen years old and she is beautiful. When she was little she used to follow me around my bedroom every morning and meow at me in a very conversational way. Then she would pace up and down the bathroom floor as I got ready.

Now she's a bit too lazy for all that; she prefers to meow at me from the top of her cat tower, but the sentiment is still the same.

Mission Progress, Day 1

2006-04-17T21:52:00.000-05:00

Hmmm, not so fabulous.

The Good

I FINALLY submitted my online applications to the CPS website. There are a TON of jobs available in CPS, so hopefully one of them will be a good fit. I checked The University of Chicago's website and (da da da daaaa . . . ) they have an English teaching position open as well, so I submitted an app there, too. I would LOVE to work for The U of C, if only to get that 75% tuition reduction for grad school!

I did not spend (too) much time sitting idly in front of the tele, although I did turn it on as I finished my spinach salad dinner from Trader Joe's. (Doesn't the good of eating healthy cancel out the bad of watching crap tv?) I must admit, that was some entertaining television.

I returned several phone calls, and even initiated some of my own today on my way between my teaching gig and my office gig. I love talking to everyone, so I don't know what my problem is. AND, I don't have to dial in fear now that my ear piece isn't shocking me on a daily basis. Goooooo Sprint!

The Bad

I ate this for lunch. I couldn't help it! This chick brought it in to the office on Friday and I've been thinking about it ever since. Well, not really, but I pass it on my way to work so close enough.

I also drank a can of Diet Coke when I got home today. I had to scratch that itch. I cut my finger opening it, so maybe pain aversion therapy will help me avoid it tomorrow. It worked in A Clockwork Orange. (Well, it did in Kubrick's interpretation, anyway.)

I dropped the f-bomb at least twice when my lovely dogs refused to come inside after spending way too long gallivanting around the yard. And they were muddy--what's a girl to do, say "oh shucks!"?

More on this mission business

2006-04-17T17:25:00.000-05:00

11. EATING HABITS. The Man and I eat very badly. He, however, maintains his six-pack and overall trim physique despite all that pizza. I fear that my own figure won't hold up so well.

GOAL: Eat healthier. Oh, and cut out all diet soda because it contains benzine, which is apparantly very bad for you. And me.

12. CLEAN UP MY ACT. My speech would be more accurate, actually. I find myself substituting real, expressive words with my new favorite four letter word--fuck. Another bad habit picked up from The Man.

GOAL: Stop fucking swearing so damn much.

I'm on a mission

2006-04-16T21:23:00.000-05:00

to simplify, beautify, and just plain improve my life

Now don't get me wrong, I'm a happy camper as is. I just want to be even happier and I'm going to make it happen, damnit.

The Plan: I'm going to commit to changing or achieving or attaining various things and goals by declaring them on this site. The plan is that I'll have to make the changes to avoid tarnishing my Internet reputation (ha).

The Goals (in no particular order)

1. SIMPLIFY my life by getting rid of the crap that I just don't need. I'm hoping that the process of de-junking my place will make me think twice before purchasing more junk in the future. And it's nice to have the space.

I've found a useful method of crap-removal on the fabulous freecycle website.
I've already unloaded the following items onto friends and freecylers:

Old mad libs (don't ask)
Shoes I never ever wore (2 pairs so far--it's hard to give them up!)
A collection of Just the Right Shoe figurines
Various novels, textbooks, and travel guides that I just don't need
A razor replacement that I never opened, and that won't fit my razor
Notebooks, folders, looseleaf paper, and writing utensils that I've had since college and have never used
A beaded mezuzzah from South America that I would never put up on my door
A slew of other things that are so un-useful I can't even remember what they are.
I sold my Franklin Covey planner on eBay, it was my first eBay experience.
GOAL: Rid myself of all unnecessary stuff. The measure will be whether I've used something in the last three months, if not--it's outta here. Shoes included (ouch).

2. MAKE MORE TIME to do the things I want to do (see rest of list) by eliminating the following activities from my day.

Television--I don't watch much, that is, not much unless I'm with the man, and then his bad habits rub off on me and I just can't have that. Okay, so I probably have the tv on for two hours a night while I'm doing other things. But Big Love is so good!

The plan is to record all of the shows I love on the dvr, and then watch them after I get the more important things done. (I can't just give up on The Office, The Sopranos, Lost, and Sex and the City reruns, now, can I?)

Internet surfing--I have started to waste about a half hour per day clicking on that damn "next blog" button on Blogger. Bad button, bad!
Lounging around in bookstores, and Chipotle--I've developed the bad habit of stopping in various places on my way home from work, plopping down with whatever novel I happen to have in my bag at the time, and spending upwards of an hour sitting in an uncomfortable chair and reading. Now, I want to read more, but this is not the time nor the place.
GOAL: Eliminate all activities that do not coincide with my values and goals.

3. BICYCLE REGULARLY. I love bicycling, I have a great bike, I have a membership to Bally Total Fitness and they have tons of cycling classes, yet I only get in the saddle about once a week. Pathetic.

GOAL: Bike at least three hours per week.

4. SAVE MORE MONEY. I don't save enough at all, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the following habits are major culprits:

Eating out--see aforementioned reference to Chipotle. I rarely bring lunch to work, and I often bring something in for dinner. And I teach, so I need fuel to get through the morning. And the afternoon. And those long nights of grading papers and lesson planning.
Spontaneous purchases--I don't buy a lot of stuff, but when I do it is generally not premeditated spending. My goal is to sleep on all purchases over $10. Odds are, I'm not going to want the crap the next day.
GOAL: Save 20% of all gross income.

5. WRITE MORE. Okay, so I am making a career out of literature and the art of reading it and writing about it. I want to write, yet I don't.

GOAL: Write for at least one uninterrupted hour each week.

6. LEARN AND DEVELOP SKILLS I've been interested in developing yet haven't made the time to do so:

Calligraphy
Spanish language
Guitar
Cooking (this should also help me save some moolah)
Wine knowledge--the man and I have been talking about taking a wine class forever
Dance--Tango, hip hop, you name it I want to learn it. I used to dance, now I just shuffle, this is not good.
Photography--If I don't start using it, I'll have to give away my Canon Rebel G, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet.
Singing--I've always secretly wanted to learn how to sing. I'm quite bad, as it happens, so this may be quite painful to those around me.
GOAL: Work on at least two of the following skills each week for at least one hour each skill.

7. QUALITY TIME with the ones I love, including but not limited to:

The Man
My beautiful bubbas and kikis (translation: dogs and cats)
Friends
Family
Strangers with interesting ideas
GOAL: Connect with each of these groups at least two times per week (excluding the last one, which relies completely on factors which I cannot control).

8. ENJOY THE WEATHER. I live in The Windy City, so we have to relish the sunshiney days.

GOAL: Do not let a great day go wasted, ever--spend at least thirty minutes outside in great weather. Excuses such as papers to grade, lessons to plan, or laundry to do are unacceptable.

9. BE ACTIVE. I love doing these things, yet I often find myself reading indoors or watching television instead.

Rollerblading
Running
Swimming
Walking along Lake Michigan
Walking my dogs anywhere, and especially taking them to doggie parks
GOAL: Do one of these activities for at least one hour each week

10. PHONE HABIT. I am a really bad phone communicator. I dislike talking on the phone, and I often don't return phone calls for several days. This makes my friends feel any combination of anger, hurt, abandonment, pain, and fear that I have disappeared. Okay, I exaggerate, but it is still not a good habit.

GOAL: Return all phone calls within 24 hours. Period.

The Mission, In Short

2006-04-15T17:47:00.000-05:00

I'm on a mission to simplify, beautify, and just plain improve my life. I'm really happy with it as it is, by the way, which just makes me wonder how great it could be if I actually focused on making these little changes.

The Goals (in short, the longer post version of these goals is here)

SIMPLIFY my life by getting rid of the crap that I just don't need
MAKE MORE TIME to do the things I want to do
BICYCLE REGULARLY
SAVE MORE MONEY
WRITE MORE
LEARN AND DEVELOP SKILLS I've been interested in developing
QUALITY TIME with the ones I love
ENJOY THE WEATHER
BE ACTIVE
IMPROVE MY BAD PHONE HABITS
IMPROVE MY NOT-SO-GREAT EATING HABITS
CLEAN UP MY POTTY MOUTH
GET A GREAT JOB teaching in a high school

Ayn Rand on Love (no, I'm not kidding)

2006-04-05T15:47:00.000-05:00

I was rereading Ayn Rand's The Art of Fiction last night, which I highly recommend, by the way. In Art, Rand defines romantic love* as "an extreme awareness of the other person."

Now, while I generally despise drippy sentimentality, this particular definition seemed so dry, and to take all the fun out of it. Besides, it's too general--in my oh-so-distant past I have been known to be extremely aware of another person, say, a certain Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block, for example. Oh stop it, you loved them, too.

However, I started thinking about it, and realized that Rand might be closer to the truth than we'd like to admit. I'm going to work backwards to illustrate this conclusion, so let's begin with others' definitions of love. These include, but are not limited to:

a strong positive emotion of regard and affection
a deep feeling of sexual desire and attraction
have a great affection or liking for

WikiHow even has a how-to manual for defining love. It is quite amusing, yet totally ineffective. I absolutely recommend it.

But back to Ayn Rand and her dry concept of love. When I sought out other definitions, I found them to be completely beside the point. I mean, really--a strong positive emotion of regard and affection? People, please, I feel that much for the guy who gives me free burrito coupons for no reason at all at Chipotle. So what are these definitions missing? It has something to do with this concept of being extremely aware of the other person. I can have great affection or strong emotions for a guy, but if I forget about him the minute I walk out of that burrito place, a love story this does not make.

So is this it? Extreme awareness? Does extreme awareness explain the sudden moments of gratitude that this particular person is in your life? And what about all that damn chocolate on V-day? Does awareness really explain our chocolate and flower consumption, the horrible sickness that follows an unwanted breakup, or the urge to be with a person as much as possible? A little help, please, for once Ayn Rand has left me with questions instead of answers!

*Let it be known that my own hang-ups about love, and more importantly about discussing it, have lead to a habit of pronouncing it by drawing out the middle of the word in a jestful, singsongy voice. The product sounds more like "lo-ove" than anything. Please impose this interpretation onto your own reading, as it will keep the authenticity of the post intact.

Lists Shmists

2006-04-05T08:49:00.000-05:00

I just purchased The Literature Teacher's Book of Lists by Judie L.H. Strouf. Now, normally this is the kind of thing I scoff at when I see it sitting on the shelf, however this particular book has a pyramid on the cover with a supposed ranking of literary genre, from comics at the bottom to classics at the top. It was just too good--I had to pick it up.

Not only are classics the pinnacle of literature, they are ranked one step above literary criticism, five steps above essays, and SIX above short stories. Oh, and by the way, the pyramid is printed without any explanation for the rankings, as if this is the hard and fast truth. Oy vey.

We have a lot of work to do, people.

Popular Theory

2006-04-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

I love the notion of popular theory in America for two reasons:

The first is that a theory is something not yet proven, a conjecture, which is always fun. I mean, think about it--to espouse an idea as a theory is like investing in a fully risk-free stock, you can't go wrong. The idea of theory allows the theorizer (hmm) to avoid all risk of seeming hypocritical or stupid or incompetent if he ever has to alter his theory.

The second reason is that, in mass, we Americans tend to make pretty bad choices (mass consumerism, our eating habits, W . . . ) so for something to be a popular theory among us, it must be pretty damn inane.

About Me

2006-04-02T23:05:00.000-05:00

I teach students
I read literature
I love a very special man
and five adorable kitties
and two beastly, yet utterly lovable, dogs
I write rarely, this is my attempt to change that
I learn as much as I can, whenever I can
I believe in living consciously, and in making conscious choices
I have a chronic case of wanderlust
I am afflicted with the giggles every time I try to take a yoga class
I love my bicycle
and farmer's markets
although, admittedly I am not very domestic
so I eat the fresh, organic goodies raw or in very simple cooked forms
I know that I will never know very much, which keeps me open and ready for new experiences and knowledge
Green anything makes me happy
I could eat Island Punch Jelly Bellies until the sugar supersaturates my tongue

Audrey

2004-04-05T17:13:00.000-05:00

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2004-04-04T20:57:00.000-05:00

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