Thursday, September 22, 2005

24 Hours In The Life...

Tuesday after class I am walking to the train wearing a pink tank top, that I have worn so many times that the straps are frayed. I walked past a couple of bums watching me and I hear "shit...damn....ummmmm...whew..." and I'm feeling good until I hear, "...she ain't got no titty!...ain't never seen a woman that flat...." Trauma! Mainly because I had worn the shirt a million times and quite frankly thought it was flattering, and apparently it was FLATtering! I curbed my urge to cover myself up and look down at my ninnies and say, "they didn't mean it, they're just a couple of nasty mean old drunk men!" And I resisted the opposite urge to expose myself to them and say, "you owe these girls an apology!" No, I took my dignity and walked on.

The next morning, I overslept, threw on clothes and raced for the ferry. I saw that it was about to pull off, so I ran harder. Miraculously enough, it stopped and waited for me. Which it rarely does because it carries a few hundred people, so why make them wait for one person? Everyone stared at me including the captain and men who take the tickets that did a double take. I was thinking "yeah, you had to wait a few seconds on me, quit staring and get over it."

It was about half way into the ride that I noticed it was windier than usual...yes, almost know where I'm going with this. I had left my strategic button undone. You know the one directly between your ninnies... the one that left undone creates a peep window effect? Yeah, that one.

After work, I stop by Sephora on my way to do a play reading. The curious hound-dog in me that has to sniff and sample all tester products within reach, went to work. (I don't know why I do this, but if something near me has a 'tester' sticker on it, I'll test it. It doesn't matter what it is. If there was a tester product labeled "makes you smell like cat piss for 5 days straight" I'd smell it.) Anyway, after passing the sniff test, I decided that I needed to try out some of the new "shimmer foundation." Which is odd because I don't even wear foundation. Anyway, I hold my hand out, spray it on my hand, it ricochets off and goes right for the left breast! Next thing I know I'm standing in the middle of Sephora spraying water on my bosom, and scrubbing with a napkin that is disintegrating. The good news is that when I do need foundation, I have found a brand that lives up to the label and absolutely does not come off, under any circumstance.

So that's 24 hours in the life of a boob - publicly insulted, exposed, sprayed, and showered.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Peeving the B

I'm working on my pet peeve list. Clearly this will be a work in progress, as I realize them daily. So here it goes, the short list. And these are in no particular order, as an annoyance is an annoyance:

1. When you are forced to work with someone who repeatedly points to something on a piece of paper by tapping her long fake nails on it. First of all, paper isn't that big, 8 1/2 by 11, I'm sure I could find it on my own. Secondly is repetition necessary? It reminds me of Leo Decaprio in The Aviator with the whole, "show me the blue prints, show me the blue prints..."

2. When people use the word "interesting" instead of "I hate it." Example:
"Do you like my new haircut?""Well, it's interesting."

3. For some reason, the phrase "Destination Wedding" gets under my skin. Right up there with the words "contemporary" and "moist." I'm getting married in Mexico, and people say "oh, you're having a destination wedding." Uh, no, I'm having a Mexican wedding. Or "she's having a destination wedding in Vegas." It's Vegas, Baby! Come on.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

The Fall of Society

This is my first blog, but I am forced to blog because this is an issue I feel very strongly about.

Some people point the fall of society to the violence on TV or working mothers or video games, but it’s pretty clear that it stems from the invention of caller ID. Years ago when kids were able to sit at home and prank call, they didn’t need to go out and join gangs or rob stores. Back in my day, if the phone bill was paid, that was all you needed!

Just think, we wouldn’t have to go to war or fight with other countries, if Bush could simply call up world leaders and make toot noises while laughing hysterically in the background. I can hear it now, “ppppfffffftttt, ha, ha, ha, hey, ha, ha, Cheney, it’s your turn! Ha, ha, ha... oh shit, I said your name, hang up! HANG UP!”

Now, people see who is calling, but still don’t answer. This procedure that has evolved in society, has not only eliminated prank calls, but also led to the demise of the ever-funny, double-prank. Personally, there can’t be a better adrenaline rush than calling someone, pranking them to the point of frustration, laughing until you cry, then catching your breath, only to call again to hear, “hello?” That could keep you in stitches for a week! “Ha, ha, ha, he answered again!” Almost as funny, was asking the prankee to hold on and they do it! Coming back to the phone after a bathroom break and saying “You’re still there? You held on for a prank call?”

In the 80’s my mother had devised her own form of caller ID. I would answer the phone and as I was handing it to her, she would say, in her speaking voice volume, “who is it?” Which is funny because once you’ve heard the person you’re calling speak in the background, it’s a little too late to pretend they aren’t there.

Most of the time, I would shrug like I didn’t know who it was just to keep up the suspense. I would envision her hearing daunting suspense drama music as she slowly lifted the mysterious call to hear ear.

I think in the birthing process, she lost her ability to effectively whisper. Still to this day, my mother will think she is whispering, when she really just changing her speaking voice to a breathy tone, rather than lowering the volume. I would be like, “people can still hear you, now you just sound like Marilyn Monroe.”

I would love to tell all of the embarrassing stories that come along with living with a person who thinks they can whisper, but can’t. Unfortunately, that’s a blog for another day…