This pretty much sums up how I feel about Sarah Silverman.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
A new rule
I have a new rule: If my couple friends want to hang out with me as a couple, they must bring me a date.
I'm serious. For the past year and some change I've been a very good sport about hanging out with couples. But my good sportedness is starting to run out. I'm only in Atlanta a few more months, and I refuse to continue being a fifth wheel for what little time is left - or worse, the only uncoupled single in a room full of couples. I think a string of disappointing set-ups is preferable, or at the very least different.
I've warned several couples of the implementation of this new rule this week, and the feedback has ranged from unhelpful to really unhelpful: "I don't know any single guys"/"The two single guys I know you can't stand"/"We never think of you as a fifth wheel!"
Ok, I understand all that, but really y'all, this isn't about you. This is about me. I refuse to spend another meal seated across from a couple while the seat next to me holds nothing more than my handbag.
You have been warned. New rule goes into effect...now.
I have a new rule: If my couple friends want to hang out with me as a couple, they must bring me a date.
I'm serious. For the past year and some change I've been a very good sport about hanging out with couples. But my good sportedness is starting to run out. I'm only in Atlanta a few more months, and I refuse to continue being a fifth wheel for what little time is left - or worse, the only uncoupled single in a room full of couples. I think a string of disappointing set-ups is preferable, or at the very least different.
I've warned several couples of the implementation of this new rule this week, and the feedback has ranged from unhelpful to really unhelpful: "I don't know any single guys"/"The two single guys I know you can't stand"/"We never think of you as a fifth wheel!"
Ok, I understand all that, but really y'all, this isn't about you. This is about me. I refuse to spend another meal seated across from a couple while the seat next to me holds nothing more than my handbag.
You have been warned. New rule goes into effect...now.
###
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Passport photos
I keep thinking I'm going to go back and try to catch y'all up on my life, since I haven't been blogging regularly like a good little casetheplace, but then I get overwhelmed trying to think about where to begin.
So let's let the recent past remain a mystery.
I had new passport photos taken Monday. I thought I'd go to the place downtown rather than near my house since I could do it in between classes. I was pleased I'd made this decision when I saw the hipster hottie behind the counter. While I waited in line, I made up a whole little story in my head about how he was studying photography and played bass in a band and was a man of few words who saved all his self-expression for his art. I was glad I'd taken the time to comb my hair and reapply my lipstick.
The hipster hottie took my photo, but was unable to print it right away.
"Can you come back for it in a little while?" he asked.
"Yeah, I can come get it when I get out of class at 4:30."
"Oh, you go to school at..."
"Yeah."
"Me too."
I walked out of the store feeling warm and tingly, like I'd just had the best flirtation of my life (yes, things are that bad in my love life...shut up.).
When I came back a few hours later, there was no line, so I walked right up to the counter, right up to the hipster hottie.
"May I help you?" he asked politely, not a bit of recognition in his eyes.
Well. Guess who stopped being hot?
His hottness level plummeted to an even further low when he told me the photo he'd taken earlier had been accidentally erased and he would have to re-shoot.
My hair was, of course, uncombed at this point, and I was pissed that what was supposed to be a time-saving experience had turned into a time-wasting annoyance.
As a result, I revised my made-up story about the former hottie: His band had broken up, he took horrible photos with no focal point, and he didn't talk much because he had nothing going on upstairs.
I did manage, eventually, to get out of there with two correctly sized passport photos.
I keep thinking I'm going to go back and try to catch y'all up on my life, since I haven't been blogging regularly like a good little casetheplace, but then I get overwhelmed trying to think about where to begin.
So let's let the recent past remain a mystery.
I had new passport photos taken Monday. I thought I'd go to the place downtown rather than near my house since I could do it in between classes. I was pleased I'd made this decision when I saw the hipster hottie behind the counter. While I waited in line, I made up a whole little story in my head about how he was studying photography and played bass in a band and was a man of few words who saved all his self-expression for his art. I was glad I'd taken the time to comb my hair and reapply my lipstick.
The hipster hottie took my photo, but was unable to print it right away.
"Can you come back for it in a little while?" he asked.
"Yeah, I can come get it when I get out of class at 4:30."
"Oh, you go to school at..."
"Yeah."
"Me too."
I walked out of the store feeling warm and tingly, like I'd just had the best flirtation of my life (yes, things are that bad in my love life...shut up.).
When I came back a few hours later, there was no line, so I walked right up to the counter, right up to the hipster hottie.
"May I help you?" he asked politely, not a bit of recognition in his eyes.
Well. Guess who stopped being hot?
His hottness level plummeted to an even further low when he told me the photo he'd taken earlier had been accidentally erased and he would have to re-shoot.
My hair was, of course, uncombed at this point, and I was pissed that what was supposed to be a time-saving experience had turned into a time-wasting annoyance.
As a result, I revised my made-up story about the former hottie: His band had broken up, he took horrible photos with no focal point, and he didn't talk much because he had nothing going on upstairs.
I did manage, eventually, to get out of there with two correctly sized passport photos.
###
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Finally
I got drunk last night.
I pounded the beers back like I hadn't truly done in about a year, back when I was going through my season-and-a-half of divorce-related mourning. The past year has been all about making better choices, getting healthy, exercising, breathing, being comfortable with being alone, figuring out my next great adventure - where I must go to meet my destiny. I'd been moving away from senseless, ridiculous drunkenness and its accompanying bad choices and their inevitable fall-out. I'd been making progress. I'd been doing good. I'd been waking up hangover-free after going out, on the increasingly rare occasions when I did go out.
I think calling last night a relapse doesn't capture it at all. I think last night was...me reminding myself why I don't do those things anymore.
We had this whole other life where we were married, and we did things together as couples.
Last night I played the character of me as the heroine of a tragic melodrama: I cried, I gave weighty looks, I turned my body meaningfully to the side. When my nostrils flared with an emotion my voice could never hope to match, I knew I would have to see this histrionic mess to its contrived end. (It actually didn't end nearly as ludicrously as it might have; I awoke without cringing and with all my dignity intact.)
When I stepped outside this morning, I was glad I'd remembered my jacket, and I was glad that fall had finally arrived. The Endless Summer was over. I shouted a few niceties to the neighbor across the street before I buttoned up my jacket, turned on my ipod, and headed for home.
I got drunk last night.
I pounded the beers back like I hadn't truly done in about a year, back when I was going through my season-and-a-half of divorce-related mourning. The past year has been all about making better choices, getting healthy, exercising, breathing, being comfortable with being alone, figuring out my next great adventure - where I must go to meet my destiny. I'd been moving away from senseless, ridiculous drunkenness and its accompanying bad choices and their inevitable fall-out. I'd been making progress. I'd been doing good. I'd been waking up hangover-free after going out, on the increasingly rare occasions when I did go out.
I think calling last night a relapse doesn't capture it at all. I think last night was...me reminding myself why I don't do those things anymore.
We had this whole other life where we were married, and we did things together as couples.
Last night I played the character of me as the heroine of a tragic melodrama: I cried, I gave weighty looks, I turned my body meaningfully to the side. When my nostrils flared with an emotion my voice could never hope to match, I knew I would have to see this histrionic mess to its contrived end. (It actually didn't end nearly as ludicrously as it might have; I awoke without cringing and with all my dignity intact.)
When I stepped outside this morning, I was glad I'd remembered my jacket, and I was glad that fall had finally arrived. The Endless Summer was over. I shouted a few niceties to the neighbor across the street before I buttoned up my jacket, turned on my ipod, and headed for home.
***
I'd considered abandoning this blog for good, but then thought better of it. Though I've been a horribly unfaithful poster, I do need this still - a place where I can be heard anytime, anywhere. But I do warn you, I've become a more private and guarded person lately (the above bit of self-indulgent, hyper-aware drivel not withstanding). So I think the nature of this blog, and the quality of its posts, will be different from here forward.
I've had so many things happen in the past month and a half. So many things. Fanastic anecdotes and hilarious incidents (because, as you know, I attract the weird), getting things together for 2008 (when I go off the meet my destiny), trying to keep my grades up despite having one foot out the door...
I've had so many things happen in the past month and a half. So many things. Fanastic anecdotes and hilarious incidents (because, as you know, I attract the weird), getting things together for 2008 (when I go off the meet my destiny), trying to keep my grades up despite having one foot out the door...
###
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
At the library...which is not quiet
It pisses me off that the shiny new renovated library at school is now filled with freshman who hog all the computers, thus forcing me to bring my laptop to campus. In addition, they love to talk--on their phones, to each other, at their ipods...grrr. The only places where I can get proper wireless reception is where they tend to congregate and babble. I hate teenagers---I even hated teenagers when I was a teenager---and this only makes me hate them more.
I called out of work today because I don't feel very well. I spent all morning in bed, and managed to drag myself to campus around 1. I can't tell if it's allergies, a cold, or just plain irritation that I'm still in Atlanta. I've managed to get a few things done school-wise, but not nearly as much as I would like.
It also occurred to me last night that I'm probably 30 pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.
Not having internet at home is also getting old. The Comcast guy is supposed to be out again today to fix it, but if I were my landlady I would have switched carriers long before now.
God, I sound like the whiniest, crankiest person ever. Let's see, some good things...
I caught up with some of my friends this past weekend that I hadn't seen in a while. I'm doing well in all my classes so far. My life is pretty drama-free as far as interpersonal relationships go. Life's actually really good right now.
It pisses me off that the shiny new renovated library at school is now filled with freshman who hog all the computers, thus forcing me to bring my laptop to campus. In addition, they love to talk--on their phones, to each other, at their ipods...grrr. The only places where I can get proper wireless reception is where they tend to congregate and babble. I hate teenagers---I even hated teenagers when I was a teenager---and this only makes me hate them more.
I called out of work today because I don't feel very well. I spent all morning in bed, and managed to drag myself to campus around 1. I can't tell if it's allergies, a cold, or just plain irritation that I'm still in Atlanta. I've managed to get a few things done school-wise, but not nearly as much as I would like.
It also occurred to me last night that I'm probably 30 pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.
Not having internet at home is also getting old. The Comcast guy is supposed to be out again today to fix it, but if I were my landlady I would have switched carriers long before now.
God, I sound like the whiniest, crankiest person ever. Let's see, some good things...
I caught up with some of my friends this past weekend that I hadn't seen in a while. I'm doing well in all my classes so far. My life is pretty drama-free as far as interpersonal relationships go. Life's actually really good right now.
###
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Trouble
When I was in Mexico, I had a conversation with two 17-year-old girls that went a little something like this:
First 17-year-old girl: Do you have a boyfriend?
(giggles from both 17-year-old girls)
Me: No.
Second 17-year-old girl: Why not?
Me: Men are trouble.
Second 17-year-old girl: But they're such fun trouble.
(even louder giggling from both 17-year-old girls)
Me: I've had enough trouble for a while.
Besides, who needs first-hand trouble when I can live vicariously through all my friends' troubles? There's the friend who is in the process of lining up a new boyfriend while her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend still lives in her house, the friend who emphatically declares her current lover is "so not my boyfriend!" while helping him unload boxes of clothing and his big screen tv into her apartment, the friend who has taken up with yet another balding dude whom she met through a guy who's heart she broke a few summers ago, the friend who can't stand her husband but would never consider leaving him, the friend who's husband left her but can't quite cope with the loss...well, the list of troubles goes on and on. It's amazing anyone ever manages to get together happily at all.
But even I can't remain cynical forever, and I have to admit that once the 100 degree heat wave broke last week, I began to feel a little hungry again for romance. Despite having a front-row seat to endless trouble, I think I'm almost ready to find a little bit of trouble of my own again.
Almost.
When I was in Mexico, I had a conversation with two 17-year-old girls that went a little something like this:
First 17-year-old girl: Do you have a boyfriend?
(giggles from both 17-year-old girls)
Me: No.
Second 17-year-old girl: Why not?
Me: Men are trouble.
Second 17-year-old girl: But they're such fun trouble.
(even louder giggling from both 17-year-old girls)
Me: I've had enough trouble for a while.
Besides, who needs first-hand trouble when I can live vicariously through all my friends' troubles? There's the friend who is in the process of lining up a new boyfriend while her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend still lives in her house, the friend who emphatically declares her current lover is "so not my boyfriend!" while helping him unload boxes of clothing and his big screen tv into her apartment, the friend who has taken up with yet another balding dude whom she met through a guy who's heart she broke a few summers ago, the friend who can't stand her husband but would never consider leaving him, the friend who's husband left her but can't quite cope with the loss...well, the list of troubles goes on and on. It's amazing anyone ever manages to get together happily at all.
But even I can't remain cynical forever, and I have to admit that once the 100 degree heat wave broke last week, I began to feel a little hungry again for romance. Despite having a front-row seat to endless trouble, I think I'm almost ready to find a little bit of trouble of my own again.
Almost.
###
So I'm going to go all Perez Hilton on you...
...and type this from a chic coffee shop, although that is where all similarities end because said chic coffee shop is not in LaLaland and I am not a large gay man currently starring in a celebrity rap show with the likes of Kendra from The Girls Next Door. (Incidentally, I had a bizarre dream last night were Bridget was no longer one of Hef's girlfriends and I was asked to replace her, despite being brunette, smart and ten pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.)
Moving on...
I know I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth lately, mostly because I left the country for a few weeks, then have had internet connectivity issues at home ever since returning Stateside. School started August 20, with classes that are both reading and writing intensive (for example, I have to do primary research at the Carter Center for my political communication paper, which is super exciting but also kind of a pain since they are only open M-F 8:30-4:30), plus I'm preparing to leave the A (that would be Atlanta) in January (Ms. casetheplace goes to Washington and all that) which involves filling out all sorts of forms, plus I'm trying to get all my various documents changed to the new spelling of my name, plus I'm planning a trip to visit Loy in San Diego in late Oct/early Nov (I really racked up the frequent flyer miles this past year, so I'm flying gratis), plus I'm going camping in the Everglades between Christmas and New Year's so there's all sorts of planning involved with that (mosquito netting, anyone?), plus I'm sure there's something else going on I forgot to mention.
In short, I am still alive, just very busy.
...and type this from a chic coffee shop, although that is where all similarities end because said chic coffee shop is not in LaLaland and I am not a large gay man currently starring in a celebrity rap show with the likes of Kendra from The Girls Next Door. (Incidentally, I had a bizarre dream last night were Bridget was no longer one of Hef's girlfriends and I was asked to replace her, despite being brunette, smart and ten pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.)
Moving on...
I know I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth lately, mostly because I left the country for a few weeks, then have had internet connectivity issues at home ever since returning Stateside. School started August 20, with classes that are both reading and writing intensive (for example, I have to do primary research at the Carter Center for my political communication paper, which is super exciting but also kind of a pain since they are only open M-F 8:30-4:30), plus I'm preparing to leave the A (that would be Atlanta) in January (Ms. casetheplace goes to Washington and all that) which involves filling out all sorts of forms, plus I'm trying to get all my various documents changed to the new spelling of my name, plus I'm planning a trip to visit Loy in San Diego in late Oct/early Nov (I really racked up the frequent flyer miles this past year, so I'm flying gratis), plus I'm going camping in the Everglades between Christmas and New Year's so there's all sorts of planning involved with that (mosquito netting, anyone?), plus I'm sure there's something else going on I forgot to mention.
In short, I am still alive, just very busy.
###
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