[about the author]
i actually like speaking in front of large crowds. freakish,
i work crossword puzzles in ink.
i am the american nigella lawson. or maybe the american eddie
izzard. can't decide, really.
i would be a really good mom, but i'm cool with being a really
i am sometimes more perceptive than i would like to be.
i am fiercely loyal. sometimes, stupidly so.
i never play dumb. never.
i am way too hard on myself.
i am a change agent.
i sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive.
i am not afraid to tell people that i love them.
i am militantly pro-choice.
i am pro-adoption.
i know a little bit about alot of things.
i typically enjoy the company of men more than women.
i am capable of being really mean and nasty, but i fight it.
i am a lifelong cubs fan. do not laugh.
i have been known to hold a grudge.
i have hips.
i am not my sister.
i am lousy at forgiving myself.
i am an indoor kind of gal.
i am a bargain shopper. to the point of obsession.
i am 32 flavors. and then some.
three unrelated and really short bits strung together to make one post
early this morning, one of my coworkers popped in for our usual monday-morning-weekend recap.
“what’s up, j?”
“not too much. trying to lay low and get through the next day and a half. how about you? good weekend?”
“not bad. not bad. you’ll never guess what my son did, though.”
“did he pop you in the mouth for talking mean to his mom again?”
“’cause you know i think that’s just about the funniest thing ever.”
“…yeah, i know you thought it was really funny…”
“and you can’t really get mad at him for sticking up for his mom like that. i mean, he’s only three. plus, he warned you, you know, i mean he was all ‘don’t talk to my mommy that way,’ and you were all, ‘get out of my face, son, you’re bothering me,’ you know, all foghorn leghorn. so, he pretty much had to pop you. you left him no choice.”
“whatever. anyway, you’ll never believe what he did on friday at day care. his day care center is at our church, and on friday they asked each of the kids to get up sing part of their favorite christmas song…”
“lemme guess: he got up and busted out it’s gettin’ hot in here.”
“what? why are you staring at me like that?”
“that is exactly what he did.”
“i am not lying. that is downright scary, j. seriously. that’s not right.”
“damn. hey, maybe i’m borderline superhero.”
“you’re borderline something all right.”
while waiting in line to see the two towers this weekend, i overheard the following:
dumbass teenager #1: man, what’s up with this daredevil movie. i’m looking at that poster, yo, and i have no idea what that’s all about.
dumbass teenager #2: well, you know, man, it’s that daredevil movie.
dumbass teenager #1: right, but, you know, like, what’s it about?
dumbass teenager #2: it’s like that spiderman movie. only with daredevil in it instead of spiderman.
dumbass teenager #1: oh.
i fear for the future of my country.
i wanted to share some news with my loyal readers before you read it somewhere else. i wouldn’t want you to be all upset with me for not telling you myself.
viggo mortensen and i are getting hitched.
at some point during two towers i suddenly "got" the whole viggo mortensen thing, whereas i had previously been squarely in the why-doesn’t-he-just-take-a-bath camp.
i mean, i haven’t actually asked him about getting hitched. but i’m sure he’ll say yes. i really felt like we connected during the whole helm’s deep thing. there was a...well, at the risk of sounding cliché, there was a moment.
i know what you’re going to say, but i think you’re wrong. i don’t think he’s just my rebound guy. this is something deeper. as j. lo has said of her love with ben affleck, it is "more realer."
| [tell me about it] | [link to this entry]