Wednesday, August 31, 2011


     Why is there always someone who's unfriendly to the new girl?  Why is that someone almost always another girl?  And why does this still go on years out of high school?
     I'm the new girl right now and I've experienced some unfriendliness lately.  But today it felt more mean.  Who has a birthday and a birthday cake and only allows some people in the office to have a piece of her cake?  A mean girl, right?  Or a just plain insensitive one.  At first I thought she singled only me out, but then I noticed she was being really selective about how she shared her cake with...  It was bothersome and a little bizarre.  I know if it was me I'd share the cake with everyone.
     What happened to all the rules one was supposed to learn in kindergarten?

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


     Just ask my prom date from junior year who so aptly pointed out that my thumbs look like toes.
     (Thank you Mr. Z.  Would now be a good time to mention that I knew my prom date back when we were young, him 3 and me 4, or around then, and that my future Mr. high school junior prom date used to wet the bed?  His top bunk bed had plastic sheets on it.  And how do I know this?  Because our moms were in the baby-sitting co-op together and my mom traded an index card or two or a half of one--they were pastels, sort of, a light green card was an hour and a light orange card was 1/2 and hour or vice versa--with his mom for some baby-sitting time while she ran some errands.  Mr. Z--your mom baby sat me and I smelled your urine soaked or urine-pooled bed sheets.  I had to flee your room.)  
     Before then my sister and I (she only has 1 toe-like-thumb, but it still counts.  Our grandma cut her thumb nails to try and rid her of her wide thumbs.  It was so painful an experience, that my grandma never dared try to cut the other thumb nail.  She only got to one of my sister's thumbs.  My sister may deny this story, but I swear to you I was there, I saw the nail clipper and heard her screams.) called my thumbs "wide thumbs."  They're short and fat with wide nails that look like they're missing a joint.  But they're not.  They're just short and wide.  So wide that they look like toes.
     Go around with thumbs like that for a while and you'll see that people start to notice them.  The obvious people who notice are manicurists.  I just had a manicure and the manicurist said "my brother has thumbs like that."  It's akin, but not really, to the comment "oh, I have a gay cousin"--there's always someone out there who has one.
    I know that my great-aunt, my grandma's sister, had thumbs like me.  When I see other wide-thumbed people we smile and rejoice.  It always feel good to meet someone that has something you have...even if it's an appendage that should look like one thing but doesn't.

Monday, August 29, 2011


     I just had the pleasure of hearing Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg speak.  Wow!  She was amazing.  She spoke so well and the small excerpts of her writing that she read were incredible.  Such a class act too.  Plus, she's from Brooklyn, where my mom was born, so hearing her voice was like hearing my mom or grandma speak.  A little surreal and a lot heartwarming.
     The Justice spoke about how things are so bipartisan now and how she probably would never have made it past Senate confirmation hearings if she'd been appointed in the current political atmosphere because of her ACLU connections.  It was disappointing to hear that--whatever your political leanings are...
     It felt good to be the same room as such an accomplished woman.  She is 77 years old and still goes to work everyday.  I better forget my dreams of early retirement.

Sunday, August 28, 2011


The U.S. Open (for tennis) is starting this week—well if it starts on time…this crazy storm Irene has caused the USTA to cancel some of the first round matches—got me thinking about my all time favorite player Andre Agassi.  I loved Andre Agassi.  I still do—your favorite’s your favorite your favorite no matter what.  His Nike posters covered my walls during high school. 
When Dad went to go visit his girlfriend (who eventually became my step monster; for the record, thank goodness she’s my now ex-step monster) in New York and go to the U.S. Open I felt pangs beyond jealousy.  But Dad did bring me back an Agassi t-shirt; the black one from Nike with a full portrait of Andre’s face’s silk-screened onto the back of the shirt’s fabric.  It didn’t show his shorts, but that was when Andre wore those black (and at one unfortunate time, those acid wash denim looking shorts) shorts with hot pink bike shorts underneath.  I for one found that look hot.  Very hot.  And I adored his mullet as well.  Who didn’t back then?
My crush on Andre wasn’t fleeting.  It lasted.  In fact it lasted all throughout high school and into college.  And let’s not get started on his amazing comeback after he divorced Brooke Shields.  But I digress.  One person thought my crush on Andre should end and he straight up told me so in one of his mailers he sent to my college dorm room.
Dad sent me letters all the time when I attended college.  They started as normal business envelops with his black-felt tip printed block letters on the front and then morphed into these huge Priority U.S. Mail mailers full of newspaper articles and fashion clippings from the New York Times Style section. 
In one particular mailer, Dad sent me a doozy during the 1994-1995 school year.  One that caused me to pause, reflect, and I’ll admit shed some tears.  Dad sent me an article on Andre Agassi with photos.  Andre had shaved his head, gained weight and had lost his top spot in the rankings.  Dad didn’t send a dear daughter letter about how my idol was changing his look and trying to revamp his career with a new fitness regime.  Instead he opted not to send a letter at all and scribbled in his ALL CAPS writing the following (I remember Dad’s words verbatim—they were too mean to forget) under one of Andre’s not-so-flattering pictures: “SOME TIMES YOUR HEROS BECOME FAT AND BALD.  SOME TIMES IT’S TIME FOR NEW HEROS.” 
I was aghast.  Who writes that?  And who writes that about my beloved Andre?  Dad thought he was doing me a favor telling me to quit my hero and find a new one.  I didn’t listen and stayed on the Agassi bandwagon.  It took Andre some time regain his footing and pull out amazing, now historic tennis wins.  But he did it.  And of course when he did, Dad cheered him on with the rest of us.  Dad did always like a good underdog, triumph-in-life-after-everyone’s-forgotten-about-you-story; he just got a little scissor-happy with the information and articles he felt needed to be shared with his daughter. 

Saturday, August 27, 2011


     My sister says that Russell Brand has a perfectly symmetrical face.  She read an article about him in Vanity Fair and it mentioned this perfect face of his.  It also said that he's so charismatic that he can literally seduce people into liking him or making them laugh--something like that.  I just saw a movie with Russell Brand as the leading man and at first I thought he was annoying and now I'm ok with him.  More than ok actually.  Maybe he does have a perfect face or I just really like charisma.

Friday, August 26, 2011


     I get called an "old soul" or some variation of it a lot.  I think my mom being diagnosed with leukemia when I was 7 years old and her passing away after 3 bone marrow transplants when I was 10 has something to do with it.  Some people think I'm a bit wiser than my years.  I take it as a compliment, but I'd give up being this wise and having lost so much if I could get my mom back and my dad back for that matter.

Thursday, August 25, 2011


     This morning in spin class an oldie but goody came on--the Eminem song Without Me came on.  You know trailer park girls and Batman and Robin references.  It reminded me of my dad--if you wonder why I talk about my dad a lot, it's because he died 3 years ago and had raised me an my sister alone after our mother died when we were young, I was 10 and my sister was 7 when Mom died.
     Anyway, I saw 8 Miles with my dad over Thanksgiving the year it came out.  As we left the theater, Dad said and I quote: "that Eminem is a genuis."  All of which led to Dad requesting I burn him a copy of The Eminem Show cd.  Now isn't that fun?  You tell me that last time one of your parents was that cool or that one of them even knew Eminem was a white rapper and not a hard shell-coated over chocolate piece of candy.
    My Dad jammed out to that cd.  Priceless.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


     Remember pay phones?  Did you have to cart around quarters?  I used to have to keep a stash with me at all times so I could call home when I was out on weekends with friends.
     And bottled water, what did people do before bottled water?  Use the water fountain?  I wish more people did that now since plastic water bottles are everywhere and creating such environmental problems.  But people keep using them because they're so convenient.  That's our problem, we like convenience too much.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


     Have you ever been kicked out of karaoke for lassoing the microphone?  I have, by the Karaoke Nazi and I wasn't the one treating the microphone like a lasso.  My friend decided to lasso the microphone during the instrumental bars of the songs--that along with tripping over the cords to the speakers (I can't really remember which happened first the trip or the lasso) led to the music coming to an abrupt stop and us being kicked off the karaoke stage.  The money one of our dates tried to grease the Karaoke Nazi with didn't even work.  Sad day. 

Monday, August 22, 2011


     I just had a Sex and the City--I love shoes moment.  So what did I do--buy them of course.  Every girl needs a pair of dusty pink bucks--you know those lace ups men typically wear with seer sucker, but in white.  They may not be the sexiest shoes, but I love them all the same.

Sunday, August 21, 2011


     I went to my first NFL game tonight.  Pre-season Cowboys v. Chargers.  My lack of football knowledge showed, but it was still fun.  Plus, our seats were amazing!  Who knew you could be that close to the players?  A suite on the field?  Incredible.  I was really lucky to score and invitation.

Saturday, August 20, 2011


     Instead of phasing this guy out or ignoring him altogether, I was honest and told him we'd be better as friends.  It's amazing how good it feels to do that.  I've hated it when guys ignored me or didn't call back.  Feels so crappy, why couldn't they just call and say it's not going to work out?  It's so easy, not to mention the classy, adult thing to do.  Plus, he agreed.  So it's all good and no hurt feelings.  I love it!

Friday, August 19, 2011


     Are you a good eater?  I guess I am.  Lost of times I go to one of my friend's parent's homes for dinner and because I like the food and eat everything on my plate my friend's mom tells me that I'm a good eater and that she likes cooking for me because she knows I'll eat her food.  It's a nice compliment.  But getting to eat home made food is the way better deal.

Thursday, August 18, 2011


     I used to roll around on the golf course behind our house...with a boy.  If my dad had any idea this "hanky panky" as he called it, was going on, he'd have grounded me big time.  I'm so surprised I never got caught.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


     Who coined the "walk of shame?"  Aren't there people out there who are proud of hooking up?  I, myself know there have been times when I called my girlfriends to let them know about some guy I'd made out with and there was no shame talk in any part of our conversations.
     Of course, I can see where the actual walking part is embarrassing.  Walking out of some guy's dorm room, apartment, front door of his house--but aren't you still to happy from the making out to feel shameful? Think about it.  Or does the bad stuff, the embarrassing stuff take precedence over the good?  That's shameful; really, truly shameful.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


     I was introduced to a guy recently who winced when he found out I went to a private school.  This means he either has a problem with smart people or rich people (even though neither of these may be true if you attend private school).  He doesn't even think about reasons one might attend private school like scholarships or the fact that the public schools where I grew up were low performing schools.  
     What a loser.  Get over yourself.  You're in your mid thirties and are still worried about where everyone went to high school.  Please tell you have something better to do with your time.  Please.

Monday, August 15, 2011


     Have you ever said your name out loud in an empty room?  Just you, in a room, saying your own name?  Try it, it's weird.  After a while its like its not even your own name anymore, or the sound of it sounds so strange you wonder how your parents named you that...I know I'm not the only one who's done this, I just know it.

Sunday, August 14, 2011


          Do you or don’t you reach for the check when it comes to the table?  Do you sit idle on your hands pretending you don’t see the fake leather folio resting between you and your date?  Do you take it and say: “let’s split the check”?  Or do you avoid the entire situation and get up to go to the bathroom when you see the server carrying it towards your table? 
Early during our first date, the guy I was with recently informed me that if I reached for the check when it came he’d never call me again or that he’d certainly only think of me as a friend.  “Besides,” he said, “we all know it’s a fake reach.”  He went on to tell me that girls really don’t want to pay for a date and that most guys want to pay for their date’s drinks or meal.  
            I listened to his argument with curiosity.  How’d he know that all women extend fake reaches?  Why did he think that if a woman took out her wallet or offered to split the check she wasn’t genuine or that she wouldn’t have a problem going Dutch?  This guy had gone from talking about his job and hobbies to what our server’s tattoo meant only to throw in this tidbit about dating etiquette.  With all the non-sequiturs, I felt like a seal at Sea World trying to catch red ring after red ring after red ring from a trainer who was throwing them at me from random directions at warp speed.
            Considering this guy didn’t want to share any of the beer garden’s food with me, it surprised me that he intended to pay for our entire meal.  He and I had met for drinks.  After our first one we decided to get some food too.  He asked what I wanted and I suggested guacamole and chips.  I thought it was a good choice to go along with our beers and we could share. 
            When the server came we ordered the guacamole.  Then my date said “and I’ll have the chicken quesadillas.”  Apparently, meaning he wanted his own snack and didn’t want to share, which I didn’t catch.  Because when I said: “oh, that’s sounds good,” meaning, that sounds like a good thing for us to share let’s cancel the guacamole, my date ordered me my own plate of chicken quesadillas.  
            The restaurant's quesadillas are huge.  They come with salsa, sour cream and guacamole.  The cheese is oozing off the plate.  They’re meant for sharing.  At least I thought they were.  By the time I realized I’d gotten stuck with two heavy appetizers, our server had disappeared inside to place the order and I was left knowing I could order 18 more beers and my date would be happy to pay for every single one of them.  Of course, I didn’t.  But I did switch it up at one point and ordered a glass of sangria, which tasted pretty good for a beer garden.  
After that date, I followed up with some friends about the fake reach.  A girlfriend of mine said she always makes an effort to reach for her wallet and offers to split.  But my date was right; she’s not really keen on having to pay for any part of the check.  She’s just making the gesture to be polite.  
A guy friend of mine said that he appreciated the reach when he was single.  He expected the girl to dig around for her wallet when the bill came and reach for the check.  He told me he wouldn’t have liked it if his date didn’t make a move for the check at all.  But he went on to explain that if she started grabbing for the bill; protested too much by saying “no, no no, no, let’s split it or let me pay;” or held up her hand to prevent him from paying, she would’ve annoyed him and he wouldn’t have gone out with her again.  His wife shared that a woman should make an effort to try and pay once, but that was it; after that one-time offer the girl is good to go and her date should pay no matter what.
Back to my date.   It ended with us finishing our beers; me eating as many quesadillas as I could without getting sick; him paying the check without me reaching for it; him walking me out, telling me he had a great time and that we should go out again; but him not calling me again.  I guess it’s good to know in the dating game that even if you play by someone else’s rules, you can still end up losing.  

Saturday, August 13, 2011


     It seems you're in the minority nowadays if you don't have a tattoo.  I don't have one--too scared it will hurt and more scared that I'll regret it the next day.  Plus, I have a feeling that ink isn't going to look so hot on droopy old person skin when I get older.
     How many guys in the nBA don't have a tattoo?  I bet it's a small percentage.  I remember Dennis Rodman as one of the first guys to sport a lot of tattoos--he was one of my favorite players.  Saw him on tv today and I am not feeling his nose ring or the rest of his look.  Doesn't all that stuff just get in the way?

Friday, August 12, 2011


     When you leave a movie do you feel like you can conquer the world?  Or am I the only one who feels that way?  After I see a good movie, typically a comedy, I'm so happy.  I feel like anything is possible.  It's such a high and all it was, was a movie.  I drive home blasting the radio and feeling so incredibly lucky to feel this good.  It's amazing.  Can you tell I just got back from the movies?  I did and it made me take stock in everything I have--great friends, great job, supportive family.  All the things that make it enough.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


     You, yes you.  Please start wearing proper undergarments or underwear period.  Don't wear a white bra under a white shirt.  Why don't many people know this?  You need to wear a nude bra under white clothing--then you won't see the bra.  Don't wear a black bra under a white shirt, unless you are very dark skinned.  Don't wear a white or even nude bra under a black top--once the camera flashes everyone will see your bra in the photo.  Just wear a bra.  Yes you need one.
     No you are not to young to start wearing smoothers and Spanx.
     You don't always need to wear thongs, just because you think or the guy you are dating thinks they're sexy.  Sometimes you need coverage when wearing a dress, so wear proper underwear, not a thong.
     When your dress twirls up on the dance floor and I see your thong I want to lose my lunch.  I didn't pay for my over priced martini and come to this bar to get a compliment from a gay man--which is code for I came here to have some beautiful, straight man, who's a doctor buy me a drink and tell me a witty joke, not a line--to see your bare ass.  Really, put on some underwear.  They don't have to be granny panties.  They just have to have a front, crotch and back.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011


     Isn't it weird when you meet one of your friends' parents and you immediately adore them.  Then you're out with your friend and she does something so incredibly rude that you wonder how such an action was possible growing up with such lovely parents.
     I feel like this happens to me often.  It's disappointing and jolts me back to the reality that we're not in the same time period as our parents lived.  Everyone does things differently now and quick, the quicker the better.  So many people are bigger-better-dealing you, while they're with you--waiting for someone else to get here, texting someone else, reading emails and texts from someone else.  When did we get so bored with the people we made plans to see? It's sad.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


     One of my tests to know if I'm ready to be in a relationship is whether I'm willing to share my my expensive hair care and skin care products with a guy.  It's a big deal.  Not just anyone can use my Kerastase!  I don't buy that stuff regularly and when I do it's a treat for me--I'm not sure I want to share just yet, if he's not the real deal.

Monday, August 8, 2011


     Make friends with your next door neighbor so she can zip up the zipper on your strapless dress you can't reach and help you fasten that damn hook and eye.  Neighbors come in handy for stuff fashion emergencies.

Sunday, August 7, 2011


     I'm all about respecting your elders.  But when we were at a funeral, someone's mom said the most telling thing to me; it made me question her character.  A guy I was dating and his parents picked me up to go to a funeral for a mutual friend's father.  The minute we got to the church for the memorial service, the guy's mom grabbed my arm and said "Come on, let's find the guest book.  We need to sign it, because that's how we'll get points for being here."
     Points?  Points for attending a funeral?  What happened to going to a memorial service because you care about the grieving person and want to help him honor his loved one.  Or because you knew the deceased and want to pay your respects?  The episode was so bizarre, I just stared at her, said nothing, and followed her to the guest book.  I signed it, but I wasn't expecting to get any points.
     The situation made me question that guy's mom and the kind of person she was.

Saturday, August 6, 2011


     My ex-boyfriend found it alarming that I vacuum naked.  It's gets too hot not to I told him.  Since then I've polled my girlfriends and have come to find out I'm not the only one who sheds clothes to clean.
     So I say carry on--it feels good to be an exhibitionist in your own home.

Friday, August 5, 2011


     Quite frankly, I thought this blog would be all about my journey to freeze my eggs.  I'm 35, single, no boyfriend, no lover and no potential lover.  I'm not sure I'll ever get married and I'm not sure I want kids, but I don't want to miss the opportunity.  Well I went to the OBGYN and she said not to worry until I'm 37.  Two more years-phew!!!
     So there you go, instead of getting a year's worth of my up and down mood swings while I went through the same basic procedure as IVF--ON MY OWN--I'm writing this blog--a daily countdown in no particular order of importance, listing events, thoughts and memories and anything else that happens in my 35th year as it unfolds.
     Here's to two more years!

Thursday, August 4, 2011


Go on nice vacations!  No more hostels.  No more cheapie hotels.  You've done that.  Do yourself a favor and go on a nice vacation--spend the money.  I went to a spa resort recently and it was worth every single penny.  Luxury and convenience have a price and I was so happy to have paid it.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011


I love being in my 30s.  I know what I want and what I don't want.  Just knowing those 2 things makes making choices easier.  Much much easier.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011


The beauty is in the wrinkles--that’s what my dad always used to say about linen.  

Monday, August 1, 2011


            I don’t like to drive.  I prefer to be driven.  (Especially after topping off that bottle of champagne on the night of my birthday). 
My dad made me wait a year and a half extra to get my license.  And after all that waiting, I still never got to drive his car and he sure as shit wasn’t going to buy me one.  Then I moved to college and walked everywhere and then moved to cities where you walk or cab it everywhere. 
Plus, the memory of when I needed a ride to school once and my dad told me to “take a cab” has stuck.  At the time I took his advice—had no choice, he wasn’t going to drive me.  I took a cab to whatever school event I needed to be at and although I felt horribly embarrassed to be paying a cabbie out of my allowance money, it probably looked a lot cooler to an onlooker than it felt…or at least I hope it did.  Come on isn’t that a good scene for a movie—kid getting out of taxi at her middle school to be able to attend eighth grade dance—isn’t it?