Archive for November, 2006

More importantly*

November 30, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.” ~Voltaire

Some might see it as some sort of sadomasochist tendency to put myself through a crazy ass hell of driving for seven hours and thusly subsisting on Cinnabon and filet-o-fish and having to merge along with people who find pumping their own gas to be odd (Hello New Jersey!). I do it because on the return trip home I am guaranteed a stop at what might possibly be the happiest place on earth. Woodbury Commons - which I should probably be a spokeswoman for, given the enthusiasm that exudes when saying the words FENDI! OUTLET! – is a shopping Mecca. If I died tomorrow, I’d possibly want my ashes spread somewhere between the Kate Spade outlet and JCrew. Actually if I died tomorrow I’d maybe want my ashes spread around a Trader Joe’s, not that I’ve given this any thought. But I digress.

So, I have fat calves. Calves that are larger than Peg’s, which I know because I tried on her boot collection and none of her boots fit over my fat calves and I have a mother whose boot collection might rival Oprah’s. Thusly I wanted black mid-calf boots to go with my new winter white skirt. And you are kidding yourself if you’re thinking that I should already own a pair of black boots. Which I do, but obviously, semi ankle boots do not look cute with a knee length skirt, but mid-calf would be perfect. Everyone knows this. Henceforth a trip to the commons for boots and a sweater or two and I missed out on the last Kate Spade sample sale, so I should probably hook myself up there and really I do not have much more money than the guy who works the drive thru at Starbucks, so I’m not sure what I was thinking with my grandeur dreams of looking mighty hot and ski bunny like for the winter, but whatever.

Anyway, the words 40% off at Banana Republic, is kind of what led me to wake at 5:30 AM so that I could be to the outlets when they opened at 8AM and then stand outside in the cold that is upstate NY and then gallop into the store to whisper sweet nothings to an incredibly soft black turtleneck. There may have been caressing, but that’s neither here nor there. Because when it comes to caressing, the thing that honestly got me off (How very Vincent Libretti of me) was the pink cashmere sweater at JCrew that was something like $13.50 with a free stock option. Then the boots, the perfect boots, from Nine West that were approximately $12.47 and then they threw in free shoe shine because the people at Nine West are so very giving and into the spirit and then it was time to go home.

The problem that has arisen it that I have such lovely clothing in my closets now, particularly the boots with a cute (wool) black skirt and the pink cashmere sweater are making me tremble. Alas, I once made the mistake of wearing cashmere in 70 degree weather because I don’t know where my head was at and all because it was fucking October and I expected cold. And as you can imagine it is now the final day in November and 70 degrees therefore I am not sporting any incredibly soft cashmere and this is what is bothering me more than anything in the world. Because I am nothing if not hot in pink cashmere and when I finally get around to being able to wear it in like February, you will be the first to know.

And apropos of absolutely nothing else save for the fact that I will be babysitting for the rest of my natural life (you know, before the spreading of the ashes all over an outlet mall); I spent an hour last night saying “Noah, where’s Heather?” so that he would at least point to me and acknowledge my existence. Instead, my dear shmoop, proved that he is considerably more intelligent than I already suspected and he has perfected the quintessential “Are you fucking kidding me?” look and then went back to playing with a sock. That’s my boy.

*I’m the worst hiatus taker ever in life. I am also nothing if not dedicated. I’m a lot of things though, but apparently never enough.

So not in the spirit

November 29, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“The best remedy for a short temper is a long walk.” ~Jacqueline Schiff

Warning: I’m about to be Debbie Downer and annoying. Also am about to turn off comments and hopefully this will end my three month stint of being sullen and full of rage.

So umm, yeah…I’ll be back in a few. Possibly tomorrow or possibly a day when I can go without thinking of how positively incensed and hurt I am. Also because other than that my only thoughts revolve around why it’s 70 degrees outside on this the 29^th day of November. And why exactly people are playing walking in a winter wonderland like it’s going to snow sometime soon. Really?? Must you do that? With the sun out and the perfect golfing weather?

Anyway, upon my return I’ll be happy*. Or at least I’ll be considerably better at pretending to be in a good mood.

But this here makes me pretty fucking happy…

Pity party for one

November 28, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“I can’t complain, but sometimes I still do.” ~Joe Walsh

So there was supposed to be a well written post about my progress and how I enjoyed polenta lasagna with fresh pesto and half a bottle of wine and my roommate and I were brought together by the phrase “Fendi outlet” which I’m sure would bring any two people with a sense of bargain shopping together. Alas, there will not be because I just found out that I will not be enjoying Las Vegas with my brothers and my father.

But since I must take a vacation that’s not to Martha’s Vineyard, which while lovely, gets a little old, and every year I (and by ‘every year’ I mean ‘last year when I finally had to start paying for and actually planning my own vacations and realized that I didn’t have $9,000 to frolic around Europe again. And well, I’ll be damned’) I say that I’m going to go somewhere and yet I do not. I go to Martha’s Vineyard and indulged on fried clams and sit on my ass and eat pie. (Of course I’m exaggerating slightly because if I remember correctly in 2003 I went to Rome/Naples/Sorrento/Pompei and in 2004 I went to Madrid/Mallorca/Portugal/Morocco/Amsterdam and in 2005 I didn’t go anywhere because I’m lazy. Minor detail.)

I would like to go somewhere in either March or April. That requires a passport. I’m fluent in Spanish. I could go alone** without being shot or something (though even that is probably not going to happen, but definitely could go alone) and I’ve already been to Spain, Italy, Morocco, The Netherlands, Mexico, Jamaica, Portugal, and if you suggest Canada, I’ll hit you. Hard.

OR!

I could suck it up and just go out to Las Vegas a few days early and then meet my brothers and father there and then fly back earlier than they would. But that would require maturity. Which is something we all know that I am genuinely incapable of. So instead, I wine.

The end.

*Lord, I hope you all (sorry, ‘ya’ll’) aren’t taking me seriously. Because this is such trite shit to complain about and do not pity me. Instead offer suggestions of where to go, because now I’m flailing.

** I should also mention that I want to go away alone, not because I have to, but because I’m a misanthrope like that.

Lady of Leisure (Read: Sloth)

November 27, 2006 | Filed under: Gruyere With That Wine

“I like the word “indolence.” It makes my laziness seem classy.” ~Bern Williams*

Between November 3rd 2004 and January 14th 2004, I lived as a Lady of Leisure. I did nothing except for golf and go out for lunch, occasionally having an actual class to go to. Between January and May, I studied abroad in Spain, which is code for I went on a bender through Europe including a puke fest on my host mother’s toilet after a night of champagne and vodka/red bulls at some posh Madrid club. There was also sangria. When I returned home I did the unthinkable; I baked. Cookies, muffins and a cake and then drank the nights away over a bottle of the Yellowtail while I pined away about not having a job and how I would actually die if I didn’t find a job and health insurance for the inevitable alcohol poisoning.

I’m adept at doing nothing. Really fucking good at it. Right up there with playing the clarinet and listing the members of the 108th Congress in alphabetical order, I can totally sit around and do nothing. It’s my thing. In fact I spent four! Whole! Days! Doing nothing except for eating pie and the occasional filet – of – fish**. In fact when I finally ventured over to see my father, you know that man who is responsible for one half of my GNA, largely the half that says drink the bottle of wine, but also says why the hell can’t you hit par? Whyyyyy. Yeah, well him. When I finally did see him he questioned what I had been doing all day. I responded truthfully that I had been eating blueberry pie and then rolled over on to my back and watched Bamboozled (I told you G was channeling Marcus Garvey) and then actually had a physical altercation (I called him a fucking fucktard and kicked him) with G over the last piece of stuffing (G, being the more mature younger sibling that he is, then offered up his piece of stuffing after asking whether or not I minded a little Frank’s red hot on it. Love him). Thus the reason for why I couldn’t visit my dear old dad. I suck.

And strangely enough, being home in Upstate NY is the best environment for a life where the only necessities are cable television, a dvd player and a mother who makes sure that her babies are properly nourished with stuff crust pizza. There was nothing I had to do. In theory though, being particularly indolent and gluttonous isn’t a good quality to have. Neither is telling your father that you would have come over had your television watching habits been conducive to watching Luke and Laura’s first episode together. But whatever. The point is that right now, LB is enjoying a life of leisure. I phoned her and she’s been busy in Brussels and Paris and is now home and eating chips and she baked a motherfucking pumpkin pie.

Really, you should clearly ignore me now for it’s all the jealousy speaking. And because I could totally use more pie. And cable. And quality time with my golf clubs. And a life.

*Yep I’ve used this quote like 14 times now. I love it.
**I’m paying for this now. It’s called a waistline and it is not clearly visible.

You must not know

November 26, 2006 | Filed under: La Madre

“Oh baby you ever seen Saturn
No, not the car but everywhere we are
You sure to see stars” – Jay Z

I spent several hundred miles doing the impossible; actually it was an experiment of sorts to see whether or not I’d toss myself off the Delaware Memorial Bridge after listening to B’day six times in a row. And you will be happy to know that listening to Beyonce for 8-ish hours won’t actually force your brains out of your ears, though you’ll begin to feel the opening bass of Jay-Z’s voice in your eyeballs after the fifth or so time. No other adverse affects though, save for the fact that I’ve been telling people to the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left. It was somewhere between hours seven and eight though when I started doing my own choreography to Ring the Alarm so I decided to stop and think nice thoughts about the people in New Jersey who can’t fucking drive. Seriously, every time I give them the benefit of the doubt and think that this time they’ll drive like normal people who can pump their own damn gas, and yet every damn time, they cannot. Merging, people, isn’t really all that difficult and doesn’t require much brain power though maybe I’m mistaken.

Now, when I say I’m from Upstate NY, I mean UPSTATE. Like with deer and bunnies in the backyard and cows down the street and a vast collection of Birkenstock footwear for all of your crunchy granola needs. And in Upstate NY, we don’t really do the wireless, we do the DSL and we do it well. Thus every attempt to I dunno make my bloglines not look like something threw up all over it (now I’m afraid to check) was met with a warning and lots of words and jibberish about checking my internet connection and then I ate more stuffing and watched Little People, Big World. Rinse and repeat.

There are stories of course, about how I’ve aged gracefully and how a woman with a hot ass boot collection managed to give birth to a girl who believes that Reefs should be worn year round and a brother – the Prodigal Son – who has been channeling Marcus Garvey, why I don’t have a bed (haven’t for three months now), why I don’t have a new laptop, why I’ll be taking two consecutive trips to Alabama (I already feel real blessed with a hankering for some grits to boot) and well…dwarfism.

My bedroom looks like Hiroshima after the atom bomb and I have new boots and winter white skirt to frolic around in. But really I’m in a semi OK mood and I managed not to kill anyone on the Beltway (from the Latin for ‘parking lot’) mostly because the Whisper Song was on during those last few crucial moments and nothing says it’s the Lord’s day like a song with the lyrics “walk around the club with your thong in your mouth”. Really.

I hope you all had equally thrilling Thanksgivings and I plan to be in a semi good mood until December 26th (ish).

*So as you see, Abigail; Socially Awkward Barbie™ is still alive and kicking.
**Also, While away, I missed you all so much. Tears. Really. Must now spend the remainder of my natural life catching up on your lives.