Archive for August, 2007

Sooner

August 19, 2007 | Filed under: Blogology, Whoopdie Doo, World Tour

“America is so vast that almost everything said about it is likely to be true, and the opposite is probably equally true.” ~James T. Farrell

A friend of mine recently asked me about Nebraska and whether or not people actually lived there or if it was just some scheme perpetrated by the Government in hopes of creating some sort of utopia for the uber-conservative. All said with a straight face until I mentioned that one of my former bosses was a flaming Liberal from Omaha and completely normal with only one head and 10 complete fingers. Amazing.

I think that people from larger states tend to forget that there’s a whole slew of people between New York, Texas and California. In fact, I will admit to being a liberal, pretentious east coaster who would cannot comprehend that there are places in this country without a proper H&M or IKEA at least within spitting distance; thus my ambivalence towards Oklahoma. Of course I know it’s there, but no one actually lived there and no one goes there and is there anything there?

So imagine my normally tame and non-sporadic self up and cashed in a rapid reward award for a flight to Oklahoma City. I seriously felt like I was having an outer-body experience as I completed my transaction because how the hell was I to explain my sudden interest in the pan handle state and James Inhofe? But there was just something so convincing about Sarah’s innocuous comment of coming to Oklahoma for Wito’s birthday and then the one two punch of Shana Banana and Susan Wagner was just way too much. And so I acquiesced and went to Oklahoma City.

But really, how does one say I’m just taking a quick trip to Oklahoma to sleep in the guest room of a woman whose existence I’ve been aware of for approximately six months. Just to attend the first birthday party of a woman whose existence I’ve been aware of for approximately 18 months. Oh and I met these women on the Internet. Yes, that Internet, the one with the crazies and pedophiles and the agoraphobic serial killers. Of course saying that the particular people I’d be visiting are perfectly normal and good dressers with pretty hair, would do nothing to keep a parent from freaking the hell out. So, ummm…my parents don’t know I went to Oklahoma and that hell, I might go back because it’s like $15 each way.

I just did this dreamy sigh because there’s such a soft spot in my heart now for Oklahoma. Of course it has its faults, but those faults are negated by its good qualities such as Sonic and Super Target and my ability to have a nice quiet weekend with one of my favorite people in the world, where we did nothing but run errands and I napped and drank more than my share of wine. I was surprisingly welcomed with open arms and hugs and Whoorl’s mother saying “Of course I know Heather from the picture with the donut” and then forcing a cupcake on me. See? Oklahoma can be quite awesome.

My ambivalence has turned into an ooey gooey crush on Oklahoma. It’s fine. It’s normal and it’s lovely. Though it’s residents are a lot lovelier. It makes me want to venture out into the U.S. a little more. I’m thinking…Idaho.

The Washingtonian

August 15, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Gruyere With That Wine, The Great Moving Caper, This side of the Hudson

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.”  ~Christian Morgenstern

A few weeks ago I had a few episodes of homesickness brought on by an episode of Meet the Press and then a mention of Restaurant Week. Then Amy probably mentioned Noah and the tears started to well. I was homesick. Ridiculously so at that. I started missing little things like the Sephora in Georgetown or my weekend routine of the gym, Trader Joe’s, coffee, a nap and then drinks. A routine that could almost be emulated here if I didn’t live with a woman who didn’t understand my obsession with Sauvignon Blanc and why I need to nap in the middle of the day.

I had a life and friends turned family that took six years to build and cherish and put up with my bullshit. I moved and new the lay of the land and could successfully drive from Maryland to Virginia without becoming suicidal. I was comfortable and when I’m comfortable, I become extremely averse to any sort of change or sudden movements. I wasn’t happy – because in general I am not a happy person – and things were nowhere near perfect. But I always knew that if something were to go terribly wrong I could walk to Kris’ apartment or that my best friends in the world were just a short metro ride away.

It was easy. Possibly too easy.

I moved because I needed the change and I felt it in my gut that it would be the right thing to do. So I had celebratory dinners and parties and cried then cried some more then ended up returning to DC literally five days after I left. A trend that continued for roughly two and half months to the point where I decided that I was sick of DC. So, I got a uhaul and packed up the remnants of my life there and transferred them all to my father’s garage, where they are now covered in a fine layer of dust. Yum.

I’m often uncomfortable with my decisions which could be attributed to age or the fact that I’m stubborn but even when I know deep down inside that it’s the right thing to do, I keep thinking I’m missing out on something. Some big event or party or whatever, I’m missing it because I decided to move 400 miles away. And so I cried.

It’s stupid, I know it is and it passed. But for a week, I felt like I couldn’t do ‘this’ – whatever ‘this’ is – anymore. Like I had to move back and get my life because I would never find that level of comfort anywhere else. I felt lost and like I had made some God awful mistake which can obviously be perpetuated when you move in WITH YOUR MOTHER. Goodbye, privacy!

For years when people asked me where I was from I would say Washington, DC. Because that’s where my life, bills and bed were. But Washington is such a bubble of people with a rather one track mind and a crackberry permanently attached to the hip and a grocery cart full of organic foods. I miss it. I miss it like hell even if it is a short plane ride and even though I’m contractually obligated to go down once a month, I still feel that little pang – like right now as I’m writing this all out – of missing happy hours around town or a quick trip to Whole Paycheck. So right now I’m in some purgatory: Enjoying weekends at the track and road trips to Massachusetts. Getting reacquainted with my parents, brother and high school friends. Shockingly enough, they do have wine here and bars and grocery stores that sell over priced organic food.

In the event that you were really wondering, so far, so good. But I might rethink all of this come Winter. Then I’ll just have to write a post with the words “PLEASE SEND BOOZE” and you’ll know right then and there that it’s an absolute emergency and that maybe Upstate NY wasn’t the best idea ever.

Leo

August 13, 2007 | Filed under: Blogology, Great moments in narcissism

“You must have control of the authorship of your own destiny. The pen that writes your life story must be held in your own hand.” ~Irene C. Kassorla

I am a Scorpio in all sense of the sign. I’m obsessive, secretive, plagued by jealousy, vindictive and yet fiercely caring. I’m a misanthrope, determined, complex and passionate. I’m defensive and combative and at this point I probably sound like a real gem of a person. I do well with water signs as that’s the Scorpio way, to stay with things we can trust.

Last Friday, Little Miss No Pasa Nada here, turned the grand old age of two. When I first mentioned it a few weeks ago to Danielle, she quickly noted that my blog is a Leo. Which is almost the antithesis of what I am. Leo’s are dignified and regal (I vomit in public and cry when drunk, again, in public. But always in pearls when doing so). They’re hard working and magnanimous, self assured and are able to take center stage wherever they are (I am as well after three glasses of the fermented grape). They’re indolent and prone to taking the easy way out yet also charismatic and loyal.

Most importantly, Leo’s are honest and open. Willing to share.

This blog has been one of those Heh, that might be fun for about five minutes, but ooh, look, shiny thing. And then it would be over. If you had asked me two years ago if I thought I would be blogging in 2007, I would have most likely responded with an emphatic ‘no’. But my little Leo here, keeps on keeping on. It’s like my other half. The part of me that is able to be open and honest and to bounce around during cocktail parties and adore my friends. It’s this piece of me I never knew was missing but now that I have it, I am stubborn to let it go (a trait of both Scorpios and Leos), because it helps me to be expressive. It’s cathartic and has tapped into a creative instinct in me that I really never knew was there.

For as different as we are, or as we should be, I’m proud of what I’ve done in this space. It’s not perfection and I’ve never wanted it to be some spotless recollection of my first years out of college. I wanted it to be honest, thoughtful and most of all truthful. I have no regrets and no parts over the past two years that I wish I could erase. I’ve been myself and now can look back and see growth and appreciate the bullshit and the nights out and the days of depression in the dark. I can see it, look back on it and move forward. The fact that I have other people to share it with who can appreciate this ‘stupid little project’ is the strawberry icing on my chocolate cake. And for that, I thank you.

How I’ll be spending the next two weeks

August 10, 2007 | Filed under: Fotografias, Straight Jacket, The Great Moving Caper, This side of the Hudson

“ Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds.” ~George Santayana

I’m really not sure how much longer I can stand this. But since my suitcase is now permanently stuck to my floor. I should really think about doing something about all of this:

(Best viewed large if you aren’t easily disturbed)

(This puts Chris Jordan’s “My suitcase from BlogHer has yet to be unpacked” to SHAME)

(I should also mention that parents? This is what you need to be prepared for when your child leaves, then moves roughly four times in six years. Fair warning)

How to make a black woman violent

August 9, 2007 | Filed under: Just Add Alcohol, Oh The Stupidity You'll See

“The more I see of men, the more I like dogs.” ~Madame de Staël

1) While at a very Irish bar in South Boston wherein there are no other black people within a five mile radius; you – being a drunk, white, male - turn to her and say “Do a lot of black women come to a pub like this?”

2) Smile like an idiot when saying it and then make some idiotic ‘heh’ noise, because you think you’re so damn brilliant.

3) Be clad in a Hard Rock t-shirt and flip flops

4) When she ignores you, because she’s too busy imagining your testicles in a Mason Jar on her desk, continuously bump into her

5) Confess that you are doing it on purpose and that she is reciprocating and “feeling it” (For the record, she has some class and standards and would rather sit through 17 hours of the fucking circus - with the clowns and everything - before touching you on purpose)

6) Ask her for her phone number

7) When she says no, tell her that you’re going to slip away for a second and when you get back, slip you the number

8 ) Not get the hint that she hates you with the fire of a million suns and you are unable to understand this until her burly boyfriend (READ: White, older, Republican, favorite drinking pal) comes up and announces loudly “So whose ass do I have to kick”

At which point you cower and walk towards the door while giving glances back at said black woman and her ‘hot’ boyfriend. It’s most likely because you’re a pussy and possibly afraid of Republicans who can drink you under the table. Asshat.