DAY 248: TWO 2s, BABY NEEDS NEW SHOES!

     I'm off to Winstar Casino today in Oklahoma because I didn't win the Mega Millions lottery last night...or at least I don't think I did.  No one from work called me to tell me any of our pooled tickets won.  Anyway, if I play craps tonight I'll being throwing out lots of sayings like "two 2s, baby needs new shoes," or "I need snake eyes,"  which remind me of my ex-boyfriend's dad.  He used to say things like that all time, even when we weren't gambling.
     That guy was a character.  He had the most bizarre wardrobe, like white capri pants and a white tank top that basically looked like white fishnet tights but as a tank top stretched across his chest.  Ick. But he was in fashion and thought he should wear trendy clothes or weird clothes or clothes that don't look good on anyone or clothes that belong on a woman and not a man--capri pants?!  Come on.
     Oh and he wore Speedos in the summer.  They had a pool and he'd put on an apron over his Speedos to grill out, along with a chef's hat.  I remember being in the pool and looking ver to the grill to see this guy's buns in his tiny Speedos sticking out of the back of his apron.  It's not a look I recommend emulating.

DAY 247: SAVOR DALLAS

  I went to Savor Dallas tonight--a great event with food, beer and wine vendors.  But my biggest complaint is the 5 to 7 time frame.  Who can get anywhere by 5pm on a Friday?  Is it just me who can't accomplish this feat?  Apparently.

DAY 246: YOU MUST VALET

     Umm, I almost had to walk home tonight.  I parked in a bank's parking garage--in a visitor's spot--tonight across the street from the bar I was going to, instead of waiting in the loooooong valet line.  That was the first bad idea.  Second bad idea: getting my friend to do the same thing.  After happy hour, we both couldn't get our cars out of the garage.  But then I found a guy (a cute guy if anyone is interested) talking to this girl in the parking garage.  He happened to work in the bank building.  Thank goodness.  He waved his key card in front of the sensor and wallah we were able to walk down the ramp to our cars and then exit the garage.  What a mess.  Never again.  You win valet guys, you win.

DAY 245: RECYCLING

     Have you seen the Old Navy commercial with the characters from Blossom?  Really it's Mayim Bialik and Joey Lawrence from the 90s show Blossom.  I found it a bit odd.   I used to love that show, but I wasn't dying to see a Blossom reunion in a commercial or in general if I'm being honest.

DAY 244: HALFTIME SHOW

     I went to the Mavs game tonight and the halftime show reminded me of when my Jazzercise class performed during halftime for the New Mexico Lobos at the Pit.  I was seven or eight and as I ran onto the basketball court to do our routine to the song "Freak-A-Zoid" some idiot Lobo fan threw his cup of Coke at us.  It landed right by my foot and and I had to jump over it as it splashed all over my purple stirrup tights.  I felt petrified and disgusted at the same time.
     But the show had to go on.  I was there to perform.  So I did my best dance to "Freak-A-Zoid" by Midnight Star and really won the audience over with my wind up move to the lyrics of the song that go: "I'll be your freak-a-zoid/C'mon and wind me up, no tears babe/I'll be your freak-a-zoid/C'mon and wind me up."

DAY 243: KOSHER FOR PASSOVER

     Passover starts soon, which means no bread for me.  I went to a Passover cooking class tonight and the holiday doesn't look as bleak anymore (a/k/a I won't have to eat a matzah pizza twice a day).  The chef taught us how to make: granola; macaroons; teeny tiny matzo balls with carrots; chicken salad and charoset.  I actually might make some of these things, which means the week of Passover might not be the week I lose weight this year.  Typically, Passover is a jump start on weight loss--who doesn't lose weight when she can't eat bread, corn, anything with corn syrup, etc. etc. etc.

DAY 242: TIME HAS COME

     There hasn't been a new episode of Mad Men since 2010.  At last we've arrived at new episodes. Tonight, there's a two hour premiere for season five.  Sayonara DVR!  Tonight I'm watching that show live, in real time.

DAY 241: HAROLD AND KUMAR

     I've never smoked pot or eaten a pot brownie.  And not for anything,  but I've never even tried a cigarette.  Despite all that, I love those Harold and Kumar movies, which are essentially all about pot.  Can you really truly get pot humor if you've never tried weed?  I watched a Very Harold & Kumar Christmas today and found it hilarious.
     I also attended one of Jerry Garcia's last Grateful Dead shows circa 1995 at Soldier Field in Chicago without trying pot.  Looking back that was probably a bad move.  I couldn't get into the trippy, psychedelic images being shown on the screens framing the stage and kept waiting for a Dead song I actually knew, while everyone else seemed to know every song and exactly what the weird, trippy movies were all about.  I did buy a cool tie-dyed shirt with those cute Grateful Dead Bears on it.  That counts for something right?

DAY 240: IS THIS WEIRD OR UNPROFESSIONAL?

     Something creepy happened today.  Well, I think it’s creepy.  I got a massage on Wednesday.  Today I was on LinkedIn and saw that the massage therapist had looked me up.  People look other people up all the time on LinkedIn.  But why do I feel a bit strange that a guy that I don’t know and only know in a client/massage therapist way, who’s basically seen me naked, save for that sheet, looked me up on LinkedIn?  Was that weird or unprofessional of him to look me up?  Is ignorance really bliss?  Did I really need to look at who’s viewed my LinkedIn profile?  I don’t know, but I have a feeling I don’t want that guy to give me any more massages

DAY 239: BAD MOVIES

     Why do I continue to watch a movie even after I've decided I don't like it; it's bad; it's too scary; or the actors are terrible?  I do it all the time.  Example A:  Martha Marcy May Marlene.  There might have been good acting in that movie, but it wasn't pleasant to watch.  not that all movies are supposed to be pleasant to watch, but come on, why am I torturing myself by still watching it?  Do I think the movie gods will get mad or punish me?  Am I disrespecting the moviemakers by stopping to watch their movie?  I have no idea, but I feel like I'm always watching bad movies.  And the worst part is that I chose to watch them on my own and alone.  No one's making me and I'm not being nice to someone else by watching the movie he or she chose.  

DAY 238: PLASTIC REGRETS

     Do you think Michael Jackson ever looked at himself in the mirror and thought, man I wish I still looked like I did on the cover of the Off the Wall or the Thriller album?  He looked so good then.  So cute and normal.  He was good looking.  He was handsome.  Do you think it would even have been possible to re-pigment MJ's skin and reconstruct all of his original facial features?  I'd like to think so, but I'm pretty sure that's wishful thinking on my part.  I will say despite all that plastic surgery (that MJ dines he had--yeah right) he never lost his moves.  He could out dance anyone.  Go rent This is It.  He was amazing in it and that was only days before he died.  Such a shame.

DAY 237: BOOK SERIES

     I admit, I never read any of the Harry Potter books or any of the Twilight books.  And now this Hunger Games movie is coming out and I'm considering joining the cult by breaking down and reading the book and the rest in its series.  I just hope it's good.  Why have I been such a hold out?

DAY 236: WARNINGS

     Should I be sitting in my bathtub holding my mattress over my head?  Dallas is under a tornado warning and a flash flood warning.  I'd haul my Tempur-pedic into my bathroom if I could lift it.  But I can't.  So I guess I'll be watching a movie instead.

DAY 235: STREET STUFF

     I learned a couple of new things yesterday:  FAH means "fine as hell;" a 25 year-old will ask for a 35 year-old's number and won't have a problem with it even if he knows her age; I have no shame in picking up a green plaid hat with a green, yarn pom-pom on top off of the very dirty and beer soaked street and carry it all the way home, telling everyone I'll wash it and it'll be good as new and ready to wear for next year's St. Patty's Day; food fights at parade tailgates are always fun until your friend gets hit in the head with a jumbo sized, pink marshmallow; and sneakers are the best footwear when you're walking up and down Greenville Avenue.  Oh and one last thing, no matter how much sunscreen you wear on an overcast day, you'll still get a sunburn if you don't reapply.

DAY 234: GREEN BEER

     Happy St. Patty's Day!  I didn't have a green beer today, but I did have several regular hued beers...
Today always reminds me of my Dad and sister, who came to visit me my sophomore year in college on St. Patrick's Day.  Thy stayed at my then boyfriend's apartment (the whole weekend!)--can you imagine?!  Their first night in town, we all went for corn beef and cabbage dinner at a restaurant that served green beer.  Then when I went back to my boyfriend's apartment with them and started to watch TV and just hang out, Dad asked "what are you still doing here?"  Umm, I didn't realize he expected me to leave so soon.  I wasn't going to spend the night.  I just wanted to hang out for some family time and he gave me the boot, so he could stay at my boyfriend's apartment, reading his NYT paper and watching ESPN highlights.  It was a bizarre visit, but one I'll need forget.

DAY 233: I'M ON FIRE

     I'm on the Auction Committee for the American Heart Association's Go Red for Women Luncheon.  The lunch raises money for heart disease--the number one killer of women.  Mostly women attend the lunch and most everyone wears red, specifically red dresses.
     I suggested we get a local designer to design a red dress for the auction.  My friend did a fashion show with a local Dallas designer and BINGO, she gave me her contact information and the designer's donating something to the auction.  And then, last night I attended a University of Michigan alumni happy hour.  One of the other alums is the CEO of a fancy hotel chain.  I emailed him today and he agreed to make a donation as well.  Those are two big ticket items for the auction.  I'd like to pat myself on the back--people will be willing to bid high dollars on these items!  Yay!

DAY 232: SLEEPING WITH ME

     Well, get ready, if you sleep with me, it's going to be an incredibly sexy experience.  First, since I grind my teeth, the dentist made me a night guard--it's a mouth guard I have to wear at night while I sleep so I don't grind down all of my molars.  (For the record, the mouth guard gives you nighttime halitosis with the mostest.  But its not a permanent condition of mine.  I swear!  Anyone, and I mean anyone would have bad breath if they had to wear a mouth guard.  In fact doesn't everyone wake up with bad breath anyway?  It's the rules of sleep, right?)  And now because of this ongoing and highly annoying elbow injury, my physical therapist has instructed me to wear my elbow air cast/guard thing while I sleep.  If the elbow guard doesn't make my elbow feel better when I wake up, I'm supposed to buy a wrist guard, the kind that looks like a splint and has a metal rod in it to keep your entire arm straight, and wear it at night instead.  Great, who am I, Captain Hook?!

     Enough already.  Who's going to want to sleep with this girl and all these crazy props?  Not to mention I'm always cold, so those cute nightgowns go to waste on me if the other person needs air condition on the whole night (or who am I kidding any part of the night), because I wrap myself in a cocoon of blankets, while the guy next to me is hot beyond belief--so sweating--and usually snoring.  It's just my luck.  

DAY 231: CONSPIRACY THEORY

     That little DRY CLEAN ONLY label is a hoax.  Not everything needs to be dry-cleaned.  Case in point, my black Splendid brand, long sweater.  Its label reads "Dry Clean Only" and says that its 18% wool, 23% polyamide, 50% rayon and 9% spandex.  I put that sucker in the washing machine and line dried it.  It's fine.  Plus, it smells way better than that chemical smell most dry-cleaned items come back with...you know the smell.
     Now, I won't take that risk with all DCO items.  But I'll give it shot with some.  It's such a pain to have to go to the cleaners for everything.  And it adds up money wise.  Just ask my sister, she lives in NYC and abhors the dry cleaner--what a racket they've got going in that city.  So her motto is to try to buy as many non dry clean pieces as she can.  Seems to be working pretty well for her, so far.
     Things one should take the cleaners and not put in the washing machine: the pink shawl/poncho number (with tassels, thank you very much) that I (sadly) bought years ago.  The washing machine shrunk that right up, which was probably a good thing fashion wise.  Anyway, the point is, you win some you lose some.

DAY 230: BRACKETS BRACKETS BRACKETS

      Blank brackets started circulating this past weekend.  I filled mine out yesterday.  It’s March Madness.  This time of year reminds me of my father.  He loved March Madness.

     When I worked at my old law firm he’d help me enter the firm’s pool.  He filled out four brackets one year.  I photocopied, scanned and then emailed each bracket to the guy running the pool in our Houston office.  Dad had written our last name in his huge, signature, black felt tip pen, capital letters with a dash and the number 1, 2, 3 or 4 after.  I’m sure every one made fun of me and how many entries I submitted.  But those laughs didn’t last long.  Dad’s brackets had some good picks; we were in the running for first place.  Then things crashed and burned.  But I remember we won some money the first year Dad helped me (it might have just been from the Dallas office’s pool, not the entire firm) and got to split a pretty big chunk of change.  That made Dad’s entire March Madness.  And from then on, like clock work, after all the conference finals had been played, he’d keep asking me when would my firm’s bracket be distributed.

I tried to get Dad to enter one of the CBS Sports online brackets, but he scoffed.  He wanted to fill out his brackets the old school way with a pen.  Then he’d keep a highlighter nearby to keep track of his winning teams.  Most years he’d drive to Dallas the weekend of the Final Four so we could watch it together, his brackets printed out on white computer paper and unevenly folded in his sport coat pocket or the back pocket of his jeans.  We’d go to a neighborhood bar and sit there for hours.  And once we watched an entire Wisconsin game from the bar at a PF Chang’s—we were craving Chinese food.  It was the best time.  Plus, tipsy Dad is super fun and tells even funnier jokes.  He’d never get to drunk Dad status during March Madness, that was reserved for bigger occasions, like my high school graduation.  One of my high school friend’s parents threw her a party at their home in Bernalillo, New Mexico—about 15 minutes outside of Albuquerque.  They had cooler after cooler filled with different kinds of margaritas.  Dad tried every single one until he found the “best.”  My ex-step monster had to drive drunk Dad and me home that night.

It’s surprising how into the gambling aspect of March Madness Dad was considering how he treated it when my sister was in middle school.  He forbade her to enter her school’s March Madness pool because it encouraged gambling and according to him young girls shouldn’t be a part of such things.  Well wouldn’t you know it, my sister filled out her own bracket and entered anyway.  She won.  I can’t remember if it was first place.  Either way she won enough money to go buy a new shirt.  She bought an olive green peasant blouse sprinkled with little cream flowers and a ruffle neck.  Dad saw her wearing it and started fuming.  He knew he hadn’t bought it for her and he knew he hadn’t given her any money to buy new clothes.  And she didn’t have a job.  So he figured it out and proved his own point—that participating in gambling and filling out NCAA brackets leads to dishonesty towards one’s parents.  Dad didn’t ground her, but he was supremely disappointed.  He couldn’t ground her because he loved the basketball too much.  Plus, even though he never told her, he was secretly proud that she’d won the whole pool.  I, on the other hand, only cared about how and when I’d get to wear my sister’s new peasant blouse, I had no idea about college basketball—that was Dad and my sister’s thing.

Maybe I became his basketball watching buddy when we got older since I lived closer to him and he couldn’t just hop in the car to drive to see my sister in Mexico City, San Francisco, Boston or wherever she was living during the month of March.  I don’t really care how I became his March Madness daughter, I’m just glad I got to be her for part of the time before he died.

DAY 229: OHMYGOODNESS

     Theres's a chance, a slight chance, that Edward Burns is a hair easier on the eyes than Jon Hamm.  Just by a hair.  A really thin hair.  I saw the movie Kids with Friends this weekend and those two incredible looking men were in the movie and on the screen...but not for long enough if you ask me.  At one point during the movie, one of the women characters talks about Ed Burns' character and notes how he's caring, a good cook, good looking, a good dad and all these other amazing attributes and then asks/says did you know there were guys like this in the world.  Umm, no I'm not actually convinced that there are guys like that in the world.  I'm still waiting for Ed or Jon--their characters or them in real life--to leave their wife or partner/girlfriend and come find me at the grocery store, the gym, the tennis court, the mall, happy hour, the laundry room at my apartment complex, the car wash, you know just one of those places I frequent.  What is taking so long?

DAY 228: HIGH SCHOOL NOSTALGIA

     I'm basically going back to high school tonight.  I'm going to the Boyz II Men concert.  My friend saw them in Albuquerque and said all the songs would come back to me once I'm there.  It should be a great show!  I don't keep in touch much with anyone from high school.  All those songs will remind me of people and places I haven't seen in years.  But I guess that's what nostalgia is.

DAY 227: LASIK SHMACHICK

     I'd truly love to have perfect vision.  But I'm too scared to get Lasik eye surgery.  What if something went wrong?  What if my vision became worse or blurry or what if I went blind?  Nobody ever hears about the surgeries that go bad.  Plus, I like getting to wear glasses--there's so many fun pairs to choose from.  I just went to the eye glasses shop to get my glasses adjusted and could've bought ten new pairs.

DAY 226: THE INDIAN FOOD DIDN'T WORK

     My friend is pregnant.  Her due date is tomorrow.  So we went to Indian food tonight for dinner hoping the spicy food would put her into labor.  It didn't work...well not yet anyway.  Maybe she'll wake up tonight with contractions or because her water broke.  Here's hoping.  At least we tried...right?

DAY 225: MISS REPRESENTATION

     Tonight I went to an event where a women owned law firm showed the documentary Miss Representation.  The film The film explores how the media’s misrepresentations of women have led to the underrepresentation of women in positions of power and influence.  Wow, is all I have to say.  It's really bad out there.  Really bad.  And that's just in the media.  Those portrayals of women find their way into every day life and hurt tons of women and girls.  I know this sounds like a commercial but I truly encourage everyone to watch Miss Representation and find what they can do to challenge limiting labels.  

DAY 224: BOO, HAMAN

     Happy Purim!  Today is the Jewish holiday that celebrates the deliverance of Jews that lived in Persia.  Obviously the story is much more involved, but for my proposes here all you red to know is when the story is Purim is read everyone boos, hisses and shakes noise makers when the villain Haman's name is said.  People go all out and dress up for Purim parities.  It's like a Jewish Halloween...sort of.  I didn't do anything for the holiday this year.  I didn't even eat a a hamentaschen--a triangular pastry filled with jam, it's supposed to represent the triangular hat Haman wore.
     When my mom was president of our temple's sisterhood when we were young it also meant she was in charge of the Purim carnival.  It was possibly one of the best events of the year.  The best part was how mom kept all of the carnival prizes in our house!  My sister and I found where she'd hid them and jackpot; we started opening all the toys and prizes to play with them.  That part didn't try out so well.  I may have lost some allowance money.  But the carnival was a blast, mom had even rented a cotton candy machine and a tank of helium to blow up balloons.  We were in heaven.

DAY 223: THE 10 QUESTIONS

     Since I'm pretty sure I'll never be invited on the program Inside the Actor's Studio where James Lipton asks Bernard Pivot's 10 famous interview questions, I thought I'd tell you my answers here.  So here goes:

1. What is your favorite word?

Tinieblas (It means twilight in Spanish.)

2. What is your least favorite word?

Planetarium (See Day 97)

3. What turns you on?

The feeling of accomplishment and making someone laugh.

4. What turns you off?

People with no integrity or fake people

5. What sound or noise do you love?

The sound of the crowd cheering at the US Open during a night match when an American tennis player is playing and winning!

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

The sounds of someone's voice when she or he is clearly un-sympathetic.

7. What is your favorite curse word?

Mother fucker

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Being a writer 

9. What profession would you not like to do?

A doctor who has to give bad diagnoses to patients.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Come on in, they're (Mom, Dad and Papa) all here waiting for you.

DAY 222: HOPEFUL

     I am hopeful that the hair cut I got last night will look ok when its curly.  The hairdresser straightened it after the haircut and I haven't washed it yet.  The layers he cut are awfully short and I'm afraid once my hair's back to its naturally curly state I'll look like Little Orphan Annie.  The worst part is how much I loved the way my hair looked before the haircut.  It was longer than its been in years and no weird layers.  And then what happened?  I told that guy to do what he did last time and the result was not what he did last time.  I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about what's going to happen when I wash my hair and look in the mirror so I have to stop writing.

DAY 221: IF YOU INTRODUCE A REVOLVER...

     My high school English teacher taught us about Chekhov's Gun.  It's a literary technique that came from Russian playwright Anton Chekhov, who said: "if in Act I you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act."  My teacher, Mr. Dunbar referred to it as a revolver, but same difference.  Bottom line, if you introduce a revolver in your story then you must circle back to it by the end.  Otherwise why introduce it in the first place? 

DAY 220: ASS PANTS

     While watching a rerun of Bethenny Ever After, I saw her modeling a pair of ass pants.  They're pants that have a padded butt, to make one's look bigger--much bigger.  As she has them on she says: "people actually have asses like this."  Yes, lady they do.  I, myself have a pretty plump tush and it caused me some problems today.  As I was walking into the library this morning a seven foot tall man loitering outside lunged for me and tried to grab my ass.  No joke.  I had to get an escort to my car after I checked out the book Day After Night by Anita Diamant.  (As an aside, her book Red Tent was excellent).  I don't have to wear ass pants like Bethenny, I just have to wear pants in general.  Today I'd been at pilates and the dry cleaners, I didn't realize wearing black yoga pants would set someone off in broad daylight to reach for my butt.  But it did.
     This big ass of mine makes shopping for pants hard.  Often I have to buy a pair of pants bigger than I normally would an get them taken in two sizes in the waist, just so they'll fit properly.  It can get expensive always going to the tailor.
     I also get one interesting compliments/comments with this tush of mine.  For example, while visiting my sister one summer in Minneapolis a guy at a club said to me: "guuurl, you are WEARING that dress!"  I was wearing a new dress my sister had bought for me earlier that day for my birthday at H&M in the Mall of America.  I'll admit it was a fitted dress, but nothing distasteful.  A guy I dated once told me my butt was like "two five pound bags of finely packed sugar" and that he'd heard that line in a movie.  I'm guessing it was a Western.  Another guy said when he first met me he was afraid I was going to be too skinny and that he was so glad I had a bubble butt.  A bubble butt?  That just sounds terrible to me.  Then he said whatever you're doing keep doing it--"keep eating that McDonald's."  I do like McDonald's and I'd told him how I love the cheeseburgers and sausage biscuits there, but I still think his comment was a bit bizarre.
     Three guys at a bar recently told me and my girlfriends that they like girls with junk in the trunk.  (Well that's a relief!)  To be accurate, I think they said "we like girls with a little jiggle jiggle."  Let me be the first to tell them (or to remind them) that girls don't like the term or the actual feeling of "jiggle."  Why do you think we go to the gym, hmmm?  I like the term "shaky shaky" better.  It's more positive, less mean, and not as harsh...to my ears at least.

DAY 219: THOUGHT OF THE DAY

This world takes all types.  Literally--all types...

DAY 218: BIG HEADS

     I'm going to see the band Big Head Todd and the Monsters tonight.  The first time I saw them was during college.  We drove from Ann Arbor to Detroit.  A little group called the Dave Matthew's Band opened for Big Head Todd.  Are you kidding me?  DMB was the opener, and we were more interested in seeing BHT!!
     I'd left my glasses in the car and the girl who drove us to Detroit wouldn't walk back to the car with me so I could fetch them.  So I squinted for most of the concert.  What kind of girl does that?  A spoiled brat from Cincinnati, that's who.  Why be so mean?  Let me see the concert in full vision.  Man alive!
     Anyway, she's the same girl who invited a boy from my high school (who was also at the University of Michigan) to one of her sorority's formals.  It was called a formal.  My high school friend showed up in a tuxedo and none of the other guys did.  She never told him the dress code and then snickered and laughed about him when she got back from the date to all of our dorm hall mates.  Her behavior infuriated me.  What a meanie!  She was so rude to my friend and I had introduced them.  Terrible.