could not be happier this book is being made into a movie

Melissa Bank's The Girls' Guide to Hunting and Fishing.












Starring Sarah Michelle Gellar.

In the meantime, I'll have to content myself with the Devil Wears Prada and The Break-Up.

poetry tuesday

Pablo Neruda - XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

nicole richie new bikini pics

she has gained a LOT of weight.

wedding section how-to

loving this article in am new york (http://www.amny.com/entertainment/am-dating0517,0,842758.htmlstory)

(Getting hitched... and announcing it obnoxiously in the NYT
BY JULIA ALLISON
Special to amNewYork

May 15, 2006
There are two types of women in this city: those who adore The New York Times weddings announcements and hope they'll be featured, and those who think such announcements are insufferable, archaic and pretentious … and hope they'll be featured.

I'm the latter.

Either way, come Sunday morning, we all stare bleary-eyed at the back of the Style section, fixated for an embarrassing length of time on what David Brooks once called "The Mergers and Acquisitions page."

But aimless scanning is for amateurs – pros (such as myself) conduct a truly comprehensive analysis, meticulously filtering the announcements for socioeconomic research and recreational mockery. After all, until the Times starts printing divorce notices, there's nothing more captivating than the compressed 20-line resumes of our city's newest pseudo-aristocratic couples.

As a public service, I'm providing the following checklist in hopes that your next Weddings read is infinitely more satisfying.

To set proper mood, obtain coffee saturated with Splenda, kick boyfriend out of room, turn cell phone to silent. Curl up on couch, locate Style section, unfold to last page. Curse newsprint for turning your new manicure black. Do not get distracted by large color picture in "Vows" section! You have serious work to do. Start at first announcement and …

1) Scrutinize photo.
a. Weigh couples' respective attractiveness. Note if she's hot and he's not. Wonder how he landed her. Check profession to confirm suspicions (yep, "generational wealth").

b. If only bride photo is provided, assume groom is ugly. Chortle impolitely.

c. Ignore mentions with no photo. Boring!

2) Check ages.
a. Note large numerical differences. Raise eyebrows. Cluck like a yenta.

b. Coo at geezers. Adorable! Visualize them consummating marriage. Less adorable!

c. Embrace "Preemptive Schadenfreude." Remember that most irritatingly thin 24-year-olds marrying i-bankers will be hawking their 3-carat engagement ring to pay for a divorce lawyer in less than seven years – tops.

3) Inspect educational background.
a. Did they meet at Yale? Barf. Hope their kids get rejected.

b. Feel mildly satisfied to read that city college guy tied knot with Columbia University girl.

c. Note proliferation of law degrees. Become concerned that law degree is prerequisite for New York marriage. Make mental note to sign up for LSAT.

d. Observe how many married college sweethearts. Think about own college sweetheart. Be very glad you didn't marry him.

4) Analyze occupations.
a. Note mentions that say "bride was at BLANK job until last month." Read as "bride gleefully quit crap job after finally landing banker/lawyer/exec with bonus large enough to support her dreams of one day owning Bugaboo Frog stroller."

b. Visit Bugaboo Frog website. Pick out color and model.

c. Think also that, to be fair, "Coordinated enormous, exorbitant, exhausting wedding while fending off neurotic future mother-in-law" should really go on one's resume. In bold.

5) Think listing parental professions bizarrely anachronistic.
a. Almost expect to read: "bride and groom are of good stock."

b. Look at top of page to check year; reassure yourself it's not 1955.

c. Actually read recently: "bridegroom is descendent of Hendrick Hendricksen Kip, who settled in the 17th century in New York in the area now known as Kips Bay." Think to self, "seriously? They REALLY put that in their wedding announcement??" Wonder if groom went around bragging about that when he was younger. Hope groom got beat up.

6) Seek out mentions of divorce.
a. Shake head judgmentally at announcements explicitly stating demise of bride or groom's first marriage. Psychoanalyze. Did he drink? Did she cheat? Is he gay? Refer to old "Days of Our Lives" plots for inspiration.

b. Read that "groom's four previous marriages ended in divorce." Wonder if bride has therapist. Wonder if bride IS therapist. Hope guests kept receipts.

7) Fantasize about own announcement.
a. Decide to have glamour shot taken, change alma mater to Ivy League, subtract four years from age and add law degree from Princeton. Remember Princeton doesn't have law school. Oops.

b. Think to self that self needs to get a life.

c. Vow to read business section from now on.

blast from the past

Do you remember Picnic Guy? Sophomore year, he took me out for a picnic. Charming, yes? But we had to hike to get to the "perfect spot." I'm not a hiking girl. I wore lipgloss & borrowed a pair of gemstone flipflops. We dined alfresco, we kissed, the sun set. Suddenly we were surrounded by cows. For future reference, cows are enormous. We had picnicked in a cow pasture, it was dark, and we were lost. He is bizarre and funny and short and handsome. (Hairy forearms, too.) Post-picnic, we talked, we hung out a few more times, he graduated, I went to a party at his friend's Tribeca apartment once, catered by Nobu with beautiful views, and that was it. Haven't spoken since.

K & I went drunkenly prawling on Myspace last night, she sent him a message before I could stop her (theme of the evening, will explain later) and he has already responded asking for another date.

Where to picnic in NY?

article re: how to meet a man, beach edition

via my new favorite website, beach.curbed.com (It's like Gawker meets the Hamptons)

When it comes to rich husband hunting, it isn’t just real estate which preaches the importance of location, location, location.

Some men will take the train out from Manhattan or the Hampton Jitney or Luxury Liner, and you may find yourself sitting next to an attractive available man, or you may find yourself sitting next to an arrogant jerk who thinks the cell phone policy is for everyone but him. One port of entry for the successful jet setter is literally where his jet sets down. I advise enterprising women to set up a Veuve Clicquot stand, sort of a grown up version of the lemonade stand, at East Hampton airport on a Friday night. Here our enterprising gal could greet the weary incoming executives with a nice cold glass of champagne and a warm inviting smile.

Many of the desirable high net worth men belong to the exclusive clubs in the Hamptons, but if you’re not a member, women wonder how to infiltrate the fortress. While you may not make it in the front door – their side flanks are vulnerable. Both the venerable East Hampton Maidstone Club and the Southampton Bathing Corporation have beachfront which is flanked by public beaches. There is no law preventing you from placing your own party just next to theirs. If you and your girlfriends can don flattering bikinis and create an exciting little goddess enclave, the men may leave their stuffy counterparts and come over to see what all the fun is about. Start up a volleyball game or set out a mouth watering picnic.

http://www.hamptons.com/detail.ihtml?id=875&sid=6

confession

I'm like an abused wife who keeps coming back for more.

I admit it. I'm intrigued by David Burke Flavor Spray Diet's latest flavor, Peach Melba.

But after the colossal disappointments of Chocolate Fudge, Smoked Bacon, and Cheddar Cheese, I feel like I just can't put myself back in that situation. I don't want to get hurt again. You know how it is.

CB, maybe I should try your flavors next time I visit...

When I walked past Bloomingdales the other day, it was all I could do not to storm David Burke's restaurant demanding them to spray a meal onto my tongue. Unfortunately/fortunately, DB @ Bloomingdales serves real food, not food in aerosol (or whatever) form.

Off to the beach for the weekend!

thoughts on the break-up of dj am and nicole?

I think the "she wouldn't eat, he dumped her because of it" explanation is clearly an oversimplification slash a blatant fabrication, because clearly the man has eating issues of his own.

So, any conspiracy theories on what the real reason is?

no wonder you're looking thin, when all that you live on is lipgloss and cigarettes

Favorite Lipglosses of the Moment (Unranked, because it's like Sophie's Choice to make me choose just one):

1.
Neutrogena MoistureShine Lip Soother (which is NOT Lip Gloss Moisture Shine), in Glaze, Gleam, and Sheen.
Note: You want the tube, not the wand.
available everywhere, cheap, spf20, moisturizing, nice minty-yet-fruity flavor, not sticky, subtle color, lots of shine.





2.
Fresh Gloss Absolue, in Desire or Bellini.
Note: Cute tiny Fresh store on Upper East, 3rd & in the 70s I think, lots of free samples.
cutest packaging ever (in a MIRROR compact, no less), nice color, long lasting, I can't believe I spend this much money on lipgloss but hey, it's a mirror TOO.

3. I love (the consistency, the convenience, the shine of) Stila Lip Glaze but they discontinued my favorite color so I will abstain on recommending quelquechose which no one can get. Their basics (watermelon, strawberry) are oldies but goodies, but the Just My Luck colors look interesting (and really, who doesn't love Lilo?).

4.
CO Bigelow Mentha Lip tint in pink or red. I blogged about the clear one months ago, but now they are tinted! Still amazingly moisturizing, still minty (functional as a breathmint in a pinch), still cheap, now TINTED.


I could carry such smaller purses if I didn't need to have all of these (PLUS BALM(S)) with me at all times. Remember the Emergency Airlift 04 (?) of Lancome Juicy Tubes in Daiquiri, up and down the eastern seaboard? Well, more up than down...

thoughts on packing up my entire life

I am moving (destination unknown). Parents have sold the house I grew up in and are moving into an apartment. Therefore, I've spent the past few hours beginning to pack up slash throw out slash give away everything I own.

Reflections:
1. Donating a black cashmere turtleneck sweater, elbow length sleeves, which I love(d) but is way too pilly. Must replace.
2. Au revoir, Sawary 36's! Thou art the wonder jean. I still fit into thee, but I'm purging you as it is no longer a flattering fit. You served me well. Rest in peace.
3. Clothes carry such memories! And they're usually Boy-related! The pink sweater I wore when NonAsian and I tried to patch things up at a NYC diner, the black tube dress I bought during the summer of an awful Cat-gluing internship to impress Etchasketch, the olive green Juicy scoopneck I wore the first night ExBoy and I got together...
4. I can still squeeze myself into almost all of my jeans. This should not and does not mean I am keeping them.
5. My parents move out in August. My future husband will never see the house I grew up in.
6. There are some things that have absolutely zero purpose in my life that I still would rather die than throw out: a little rag doll my dad brought back for me from a business trip to Guatemala, with blue marker on her mouth where I gave her lipstick (terrible make-up job, I must say)... a brown paper bag that held wonton soup that Sebastian brought me when I was sick in high school. I held the bag upside down, and dozens of ticket stubs from our Sunday movie dates came pouring out.

To be continued?

Jennifer Aniston, June Harper's Bazaar, How can you not LOVE her?

The Man and I debated Aniston vs Angelina over dessert wine on our First Date. I am a firm believer that you can learn a lot about a guy based on a few simple questions:

-Does he prefer my hair curly or straight?
-Angelina or Jennifer? (The proper answer in a man you want to date, for the record, is that he'd fuck Angelina but marry Jennifer.)
-Favorite book?

will you marry me?

Background: During the Summer of NeverBeingAvailable, we invented faux-Vows columns, betrothing ourselves to everyone we had ever met, all sent via company email accounts.

Does this first part NOT sound like one of our faux-Vows specially written JUST FOR YOU? I mean, Sarah even LOOKS like you! I swear to God, this thing was written for you (the beginning, at least, and sub in the name of one Ivy for another).




Doğan Perese and Sarah Mascareñas

Met: Sept. 6, 2005
Engaged: March 10, 2006
Projected Wedding Date: Oct. 22, 2006

When Sarah Mascareñas, a blond, blue-eyed bombshell Yalie (yes, they do exist), first walked into the law offices of Cravath, Swaine and Moore, where she was starting as an associate attorney, she was prepared for a hefty workload and a big paycheck. She wasn’t prepared for Doğan Perese, also an associate and a dreamy, dark-haired Harvard grad (yes, those exist too!) who couldn’t stop staring at her. “I thought maybe he liked me a little,” Ms. Mascareñas said over drinks at the Peninsula, in an incongruous but melodious Valley Girl accent.

“I was captivated by her,” Mr. Perese said.

They began furiously I.M.-ing.

“I met the most beautiful, nicest guy at work,” Ms. Mascareñas told her best friend. “I just didn’t want to sexually harass him.”

After about a month of this, their Title VII–related fears dissipated and he asked her out to the Moscow Cat Theater. A devoted feline-ophile, Ms. Mascareñas eagerly accepted. Alas, the show was booked solid, so she BlackBerried him a dinner invitation.

“Dinner with you would be extra-fabulous,” Mr. Perese punched back.

“That was more enthusiasm than I ever heard in my entire life,” Ms. Mascareñas said.

The date was arranged for Gramercy Tavern at 8, but at midnight, the two lusty legals were just leaving the office. The kitchen was closed, but they managed to cadge some cheese and dessert. After they toddled out, Ms. Mascareñas invited Mr. Perese to her apartment in Union Square to watch her favorite movie, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, on video.

“I have a friend staying with me,” Mr. Perese said, disheartened. Then his eyes lit up. He hopped in a cab, let the visitor into his Upper East Side studio and then returned downtown.

“It’s so rare that anyone goes crosstown,” Ms. Mascareñas marveled to the Love Beat.

“For you …. I’ll go across boroughs,” Mr. Perese said. Awwww.

The following weekend, they decided to rent a car for a quick Hamptons getaway—only Mr. Perese, again, was working till midnight …. Yes, on a Saturday. After he’d finished, they hailed a passing pedicab and took it to Hertz, hitting the road at 2 a.m. in a bright yellow Chevy Cobalt. They arrived at their B&B at 4 a.m., Mr. Perese in his suit, Ms. Mascareñas in an evening dress. “Did you just come from the prom?” the bemused innkeeper asked.

Inseparability quickly followed, punctuated by monthly celebrations of their first date. On Month 6, Mr. Perese scored an early reservation at Per Se. Ms. Mascareñas, however, had—you guessed it—a fat pile of assignments. She drew a deep breath and told her superior she was bailing early. “I realize in retrospect that a lot of people probably wouldn’t respect that,” she said, “but it seemed very important to me, and it still does.”

At the restaurant, Mr. Perese was brandishing a gift bag clearly containing a book. Ms. Mascareñas thought it was one about exotic chickens (don’t ask) that she had admired.

In between courses six and seven, he handed her the tome: an Amanda Quick romance novel called With This Ring. Ms. Mascareñas, not a fan of the genre, looked perplexed. Meanwhile, the customarily levelheaded Mr. Perese was all of a sudden pulling a Woody Allen. “I was thinking maybe, you know, we could start thinking about maybe …. I wanted to get your opinions on all the different types of rings you would like,” he stammered, fumbling with a small box under the table.

“Is this a proposal?” Ms. Mascareñas asked.

The answer was sparkling clear: a 2.5-carat, radiant-cut, platinum-set fancy yellow diamond from Fred Leighton.

A month later, while these two young fogies were enjoying a Cole Porter revue by ravishing cabaret singer Mary Cleere Haran at the Carlyle, she handed him a gold Cartier wedding band and proposed herself.

They’re still working at Cravath, plan to live in his Upper East Side studio, and will be married on the Miro Lawn at the Bacara Resort in her native Santa Barbara.

judging a book by its cover

does not equal




which also does not equal




...which is my new favorite magazine.

hello sailor

it's fleet week in ny.

p's and c's continued

Boston, Pro: Had a great interview yesterday.

Boston, Con: Don't have the job yet.

Boston, Pro: Found a great apartment with A.

Boston, Con: Timing doesn't exactly work out.

New York, Pro: The Return of PK.

men & soccer

if X sent me an article, it would be about men's inability to express their emotions except via soccer?

May 22, 2006 — LONDON - Soccer gives men a way to express their innermost thoughts and feelings, according to a pre World Cup survey.

Almost two-thirds of men (64%) believe that while watching or playing soccer, they are more willing to share their feelings with other men than when doing other activities.

Three quarters said they would not be embarrassed to hug their mates while watching a match.

"Football does have positive effects on people's psychological well-being," said Sandy Wolfson, Head of Psychology at Northumbria University.

"It gives people a ready-made topic of conversation where opinions on team selection, strategy, and players' skills are enjoyable topics for debate," he added.

The survey was carried out by the Mental Health Research Foundation, an independent organization devoted to helping people across the UK maintain good mental health. It was conducted online, with 500 male participants ranging from ages 18-70.

"It is encouraging that football makes it easier for men to talk about their feelings as traditionally, men are far less likely than women to share their innermost thoughts," said Andrew McCulloch, chairman of the foundation.

Along with hugging their friends, 70 percent of men admitted that a match can make them upset while 58 percent said that what happens over the course of a football match can make them aggressive.

However, the ability of football to bring out a man's emotions does have its limits — three-quarters of men polled said they had never cried over the outcome of a match.

http://abcnews.go.com/Sports/wireStory?id=1992555

in our fiendish consumption of salads with russian dressing, we neglected poetry tuesdays

Losing Track, by Denise Levertov

Long after you have swung back
away from me
I think you are still with me:

you come in close to the shore
on the tide
and nudge me awake the way

a boat adrift nudges the pier:
am I a pier
half-in half-out of the water?

and in the pleasure of that communion
I lose track,
the moon I watch goes down, the

tide swings you away before
I know I'm
alone again long since,

mud sucking at gray and black
timbers of me,
a light growth of green dreams drying.

fresh-squeezed

Awful drive back to my apartment (water main break), some asshole is in my parking spot (parked in someone else's and now have a paralyzing fear of being towed), missing my credit card (oops), etc. etc. etc. Bad day.

And then... for some inexplicable reason, found samples of True Lemon & True Lime packets in my mailbox.* I just tried the True Lemon and it is GREAT! It really tastes like I just squeezed fresh lemon into water. Have yet to try the true lime... but it's totally different than the Emergen-C lite citrus packets, which I also like.

Emergen-C: 20 calories, fizzy, slightly artificial, vitamins.
True Lemon: 0 calories, all natural, very real-tasting, flat, no vitamins.

Love, love, love.

*Yes, I know, if something appears in your mailbox that looks like anthrax (powdery, white substance), it is probably not the best move to taste it. But how could my day have gotten worse?!

the A is important

I caved. I bought these MBT,





NOT to be worn on the MBTA.

if only...

i had as many men clamoring for dates with me as i do hr people clamoring for interviews.

i promise to wear my theory power suit with a not-appropriate-for-interview-shirt underneath it for lunch today, if we're still on...

starting this weekend, through october

cute as could be. South End Open Market.

recent searches that have landed people here, and my comments

Google: "beauty essentials" breakout allergy
--> i don't even know what this person is looking for.

Google: "chop some parsley" billy collins
--> nice poetry selection, cb.

Google: pro ana nicole richie thinspo
--> tell me how you really feel.

Google: "theory sample sale"
--> shh. it will be the first week of june. and it will be worth the madness.

Google: what type of medication can treat allergicness to short haired dogs
--> what kind of medication can treat STUPIDITY? allergicness is not a word!

Google: "grey's anatomy monologue"
Google: "Grey's anatomy monologue"
--> everyone loves george's monologue, but no one would choose him over mcdreamy.

Google: "dirty feet dirty feet"
--> i was mystified, so i googled this. apparently, foot fetish stuff.

Yahoo: real thinspo
--> frequently these searches seem to be from europe.

Google: "like a startled beetle"
--> my personal favorite

Google: single serving jet-puffed marshmallows
Google: "pink chocolate fountain"
--> and now, the food-related portion.

post script

A. Conclusions:
A1. I miss ExBoy, if only because we were VERY kissing compatible.
A2. To quell horniness while not raising my Magic Number, will now start reducing-reusing-recycling. Etchasketch may be first on the list.

B. Observations:
B1. Lest we be fooled into thinking that a single Jewish bachelor had magically eluded the Curse of Weird Apartment Mementos, I did some reconnaissance work this morning as The Man slept. On his bookshelf? No menorah. No stuffed animals. No menu binder. Worse! A dog-eared copy of BERGDORF BLONDES.

C. Conversations:
C1. Recapping between Charlabeet (CB) & Tarabeet (TB):

CB: omg
CB: so he was just a terrible hookup?
TB: AWFUL
TB: AWFUL
TB: WORST EVER
TB: and i am SO not attracted to him
TB: my breast is BLEEDING
CB: oh god
CB: if he asks you should absolutely tell him the truth that he is a terrible hookup
CB: do you think he knows its over?
TB: hahahah no i dont
TB: do you think i could say that
TB: "I just don't think we were very hookup-compatible"
CB: i think flat out tell him he was terrible
CB: he sounds horrendous
CB: that is SO unfortunate
TB: "um, i am in physical pain as a result of your romanticness. your nice apartment doesnt make up for it."
CB: back to your plan of dating men but not letting them touch you

Death (to me, anyway) of The Man

Grapefruit juice with Skyy citrus and a splash of Freca, crudo misto, a nice oaky glass of Chardonnay, orechiette with creme fraiche and smoked salmon. I could get used to this dating thing. At dinner, I kept thinking: I could DEFINITELY be into being single & dating people all about town. I might get fat on wonderful dinners (for the record, when I know I'm going out I'd rather eat nothing all day/the previous two days and then be able to indulge on whatever I want for dinner than eat diet food for two days straight and get a paltry little salad at a resto) but I think I'd be happy. Fabulous conversation, ran into his friends who were all "so glad to finally meet you!" etc etc etc (yes, after 2.5 dates. Wait. It gets weirder!), lovely all around. Apparently I had forgotten that dating does not just = wining&dining but also hooking-up and the ensuing awkwardness. Note to self.

Next stop: wine, cheese, dessert. Next stop: Dirty Ketel One martini with blue-cheese-stuffed-olives. Next stop: My apartment. He drives me home. Leans in to kiss me in the car outside my building. I turn my head, he kisses my hair, I sprint out yelling THANKS and run upstairs! He calls me 30 seconds after, ranting and raving and basically just berating me.

The Man: I don't understand blahblahblah mixed signals blahblahblah you said you wanted to kiss me blahblahblah I really like you blahblahblah.
Me: How are you going to wait all night, not invite me to your apartment, and then try to kiss me in YOUR CAR with my neighbors watching?!
TM: [Continued berating] You should have invited yourSELF to my apartment.
Me: How ridiculous!
etc etc etc.

Somehow it culminating with me throwing a trenchcoat on over my sweatpants, hunting down a cab who thought I was an escort, showing up at his apartment, spending the night sleeping but no "sleeping with," fully-clothed, the worst hook-up in the history of the world.

Can we please enroll this guy at U(niversity of)G(etting)A(ss), or the C.H.S(choolof)O(ral)S(ex)*? No wonder he's still single at 35! (Also, please note, he is balding.) Apparently the elite New England prep schools are teaching their students nothing but how to give purple nurples (Deerfield, Exeter, Choate). My left nipple is like a bloody mess and it is seriously painful. His tongue was thrusting inside my mouth like a lizard except it was more fat and disgusting than a lizard tongue could ever hope to be, and I just was MISERABLE but felt like I should just get it over with until finally I couldn't take it anymore and I pretended to be offended that he tried to put his hand down my pants and rolled over and ignored him.

Worst. Date. Ever.

*Disclaimer: not that I'd know.

misspeaking

It has rained for eight days straight here. The reason they don't use charming cobblestones and bricks anymore is clearly because they lack any sort of drainage system whatsoever, necessitating a galoshes-only edict for the past week. Out for margaritas and guac yesterday with four people I had never met before and A, who wore a straw on her shoulder and was drunker than I've ever seen her. Suddenly, through the hot-purple and teal windowpanes, the sun peeked out.

Me, drunk: "Look, it's smiling out!"

I meant sunny. But I sort of meant smiling, too.

Even if no one else remembered it, yesterday was a special "smiling" day for me.

ranting

i know everyone is very busy with their own lives and i am drunk because i've been drinking since 2:30 but i basically hate everyone i know right now for not calling me today and have already been doling out angry phone calls.

except for my new best friend s who thoroughly embarassed me in front of potential date 2 of 10.

poetry tuesdays

Rite of Passage
by Sharon Olds

As the guests arrive at our son’s party
they gather in the living room—
short men, men in first grade
with smooth jaws and chins.
Hands in pockets, they stand around
jostling, jockeying for place, small fights
breaking out and calming. One says to another
How old are you? —Six. —I’m seven. —So?
They eye each other, seeing themselves
tiny in the other’s pupils. They clear their
throats a lot, a room of small bankers,
they fold their arms and frown. I could beat you
up, a seven says to a six,
the midnight cake, round and heavy as a
turret behind them on the table. My son,
freckles like specks of nutmeg on his cheeks,
chest narrow as the balsa keel of a
model boat, long hands
cool and thin as the day they guided him
out of me, speaks up as a host
for the sake of the group.
We could easily kill a two-year-old,
he says in his clear voice. The other
men agree, they clear their throats
like Generals, they relax and get down to
playing war, celebrating my son’s life.

uh oh

as per Mimi's latest post (http://miminewyork.blogspot.com), a question has suddenly dawned on me:

What is so wrong with The Man that he's single at 35?

The Law&Order Report

just saw an episode of law and order (criminal intent, not svu) that you would have loved, because your boyfriend steven colbert was in it!

sadly, no incest or molestation.

this sort of defies explanation

Tom Cruise dancing, click on the dots to see for yourself.

not-so-blind item from a reliable source

Which certain ExBoy has been telling people that a) I broke up with HIM and b) it happened three months ago? He spent a weekend visiting our small college town and was the only one of his friends not to be seen canoodling 'round town; is confirmed to have spent the night alone.

i think i can i think i can

Have been eating like a big fat GLOB lately, so I'm going to buy myself this mini-dress in which I will only look good if *I* am mini.

My time-tested plan for success (it has NEVER failed me): the Special K Diet. Not the bullshit on the boxes, trade one meal for a bowl of special K blahblah you're still consuming thousands of calories.

The Special K Diet (tm)
Buy 7 boxes of Special K Breakfast Bars. Assorted flavors are okay, but the vanilla/chocolates will not be as successful. Strawberry & Blueberry are personal faves.
Each day, tote a box around with you. You can have 6 bars for the day, at 90 cals each, for a total of 540 calories. This works out to roughly one every 2-2.5 hrs. You never feel hungry. The bars are simultaneously salty, sweet, chewy, crunchy. They satisfy all cravings. Consume lots of water in the interim between Bar-feedings.

more highly unreadable text message conversations

i TOTALLY should have put a stop to this because i hate when serious convos take place via TM.

The Man: Why can u be 27
Me: I can be, but by then u will be 40. Is it really weirding u out?
The Man: I just am anticipating issues I suppose. Your friends and your parents. All new to me. Have you considered?
Me: I suppose. So just having fun 4 now & not worrying about it not an option?
The Man: Always an option. But if it gets good... Should I have kissed u today?
Me: You probably could have gotten away with it
The Man: Didn't want to be sketchy. It's how we oldtimers do it.
Me: Is that ever going to get old?
The Man: R u?
The Man: Of course I want to kiss u.
Me: Good night. No more big convos on text.
Him: Agreed.

learning from May-December movies

movie: Le Divorce
couple: Kate Hudson & Random Old French Man (NOT Gerard Depardieu)
outcome: He goes back to his wife; she blossoms as a woman and dresses way better.
other: He is married; he gives her a red Birkin (NOT the big/desirable one, sort of a lame one with a shoulder strap).

movie: Autumn in New York
couple: Richard Gere & Winona Ryder
outcome: I can't remember. I'm pretty sure she dies. Or is that another movie?
other: N/A.

movie: Pretty Woman
couple: Richard Gere & Julia Roberts
outcome: happily ever after
other: She is a prostitute, which is a way bigger issue than age.

movie: Shopgirl
couple: Steve Martin & Claire Danes
outcome: She gets depressed, contemplates suicide, chooses younger guy.
other: Really NOT the comedy I expected.

movie: The Graduate
couple: Anne Bancroft & Dustin Hoffman
outcome: Never saw the movie.

movie: Lolita
couple: Lo-lee-ta & Humbert Humbert
outcome: After an uber-fun kidnapping-fueled road trip, he ends up in jail.
other: Best thing ever written in the history of literature (and yes, I have it memorized):

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

movie: Rumor Has It
couple: Jennifer Aniston & Kevin Costner
outcome: Also have never seen it; but I think it's that she thinks KC has dated her mother and grandmother and was the inspiration for The Graduate?
other: The Man told me this movie reminded him of me because she dates a much older man.

SOS m'aidez SOS

The Man just invited me over to watch a movie (rainy, cold, my broker is showing my apartment all afternoon so I'm haunting coffee shops left & right).

We have not had to deal with the Kiss issue at all, because after our first night of hanging out (drinks), he walked me home and then left. After our second night (dinner), he drove me home, parked in front of my building, and before there could be any awkwardness, a car pulled up behind him (one way road), I thanked him, popped out of the car, he drove away, end of story.

Do I even WANT to kiss him?! Is it totally sketchy to go to his apartment?! Does it imply that I WANT to kiss him?!

reason 348738473 it's good to be single

you don't have to make decisions about things like this

more tales from the dating trenches

At some point in the night (many drinks in, hence I have no idea why), sitting bar-side, The Man and I shook hands.

Is that the handshake you use when you're interviewing?, he asked.
Um, no. Let me try again.
[Shake]
No, no, no. Can I teach you how to shake hands? You're obviously a confident girl. You need to give that impression through your handshake.
I can do it, just let me try!
[Shake]
Okay. It's not about squeezing hard, or shaking really hard like you just did. Like this...
[He takes my hand.]
But seriously, I say. Have you ever not hired someone because of their handshake?
No, he says. But I've asked for a do-over. And whatever you do, don't grab their fingers...

I told my mom I had gone on a date with someone older. She asked how old, and I instinctually lied. 26, I said. She gave me the same reaction your mom had, you'll end up with an older man anyway, blahblahblah. Then she told my dad I had been on a date. How did it go?, asked my dad. Good, except he was really really old. How old?, asked dad. Um, 26. (At this point I had to be consistent.) Well, if he were 36, that would be one thing. 26 isn't old.

I know there is no future with this. But he makes me laugh. We didn't have a single awkward silence. I felt comfortable being honest with him (Why yes, I did google you before the date!). He had good follow-up the next day. He was decisive in choosing a restaurant and making a plan.

And he called me when he got home, to ask when our second date would be.

beets in the good old days

shockingly jodi did not make the list

how many have YOU read?

What Is the Best Work of American Fiction of the Last 25 Years?

"Beloved," by Toni Morrison, center, was chosen as the best American fiction of the last 25 years. Runners up were, from left: Philip Roth, Cormac McCarthy, John Updike and Don DeLillo.

THE WINNER:
Beloved
Toni Morrison
(1987)

THE RUNNERS-UP:
Underworld
Don DeLillo
(1997)


Blood Meridian
Cormac McCarthy
(1985)

Rabbit Angstrom: The Four Novels
John Updike
(1995)
(1990)
(1981)
(1971)
(1960)

American Pastoral
Philip Roth
(1997)


THE FOLLOWING BOOKS ALSO RECEIVED MULTIPLE VOTES:
A Confederacy of Dunces
John Kennedy Toole
(1980)

Housekeeping
Marilynne Robinson
(1980)

Winter's Tale
Mark Helprin
(1983)

White Noise
Don DeLillo
(1985)

The Counterlife
Philip Roth
(1986)

Libra
Don DeLillo
(1988)

Where I'm Calling From
Raymond Carver
(1988)

The Things They Carried
Tim O'Brien
(1990)

Mating
Norman Rush
(1991)

Jesus' Son
Denis Johnson
(1992)

Operation Shylock
Philip Roth
(1993)

Independence Day
Richard Ford
(1995)

Sabbath's Theater
Philip Roth
(1995)

Border Trilogy
Cormac McCarthy
(1999)
'Cities of the Plain'
'The Crossing'
'All the Pretty Horses'

The Human Stain
Philip Roth
(2000)

The Known World
Edward P. Jones
(2003)

The Plot Against America
Philip Roth
(2004)

the date

Note: Jolie unwittingly came up with the perfect title for the aforementioned date. He shall hereby be called The Man, as in the other people I date are boys, and he is far older than anyone I have ever dated.

Raw oysters with horseradish mignonette, salad with oozing poached hen egg and brie crouton, grilled whole shrimp with avocado tempura, boullabaise with a perfectly salty rouille, steak frites...

The gay couple sitting next to us was also on a first date.

You look.. not quiet, exactly. What's the word? Sad. You look sad.
I am sad. But how did you know that? We've never met before.

Dirty Grey Goose martinis, a bottle of Chardonnay, dessert wine & port...


The first time I ever saw a topless woman... the guy next to us says, and The Man raises an eyebrow and we both smile.

multiple choice

Why have I not yet blogged about last night's date?

a) I'm still hungover.
b) I haven't yet invented a nickname for him.
c) Too much to say.
d) I don't think anyone is actually reading this. Charlabeet has a case of law school fever & the only people who come to our blog found us by googling "101 maggots removed from human body."
e) all of the above.

boat n tote

Large new Kate Spade shipment at Bluefly this morning. I'm not going to lie, I still have circa middle school fondness for her, and I think her leather things are actually quite lovely.

Thinking about ordering this:

2 articles you should read when you emerge from your 1L finals hell, and the 30second versions of each since you won't be emerging anytime soon

One
A Fantasy League for the Females

When I told my wife about it, she looked like George Karl at the end of the Nuggets-Clips series: sourpuss face, hands at her sides, complete disbelief. All she was missing was the potbelly.

"You have a problem," she decided.

"You don't understand the fantasy thing," I countered.

"Well, come up with a league I'd enjoy. Then, maybe I'll understand."

Now that sounded like a challenge. And I never turn down a challenge. So I racked my brain, contemplating all the dopey things she likes.

And then it hit me.

Us Weekly.
...
Here's how it works: 10 teams, auction format, $200 cap, five male and five female celebs per roster. Scoring is head-to-head for 22 weeks, playoffs over the last three (so you can have two seasons per year). OK, let's say you pay $55 for that chain-smoking tramp Lindsay Lohan. If she makes the cover of Us, you get 10 points (three for the inset photo). Every other Lohan picture inside is worth one. If she appears in the "Fashion Police," you're docked three. That's it. Simple. You can add or drop your celebs each Monday. Like maybe you want to dump Jake Gyllenhaal (because the whole "Brokeback" thing has played out) and grab Josh Hartnett (because he's dating Scarlett Johansson). Then again, you might want to hang on to Gyllenhaal. He's single and his number might be up in the Lohan deli line.

Two
(because we love all things Facebook-related, especially when estimating how much Facebook is worth, when the youngins started calling it Facebook instead of THEFacebook, etc. etc. etc.)
Hmm. The article doesnt' seem to be online yet. Link TK, it's from the newest New Yorker.


Note: ExBoy sent me the ESPN article. Jolie sent me the NYer subscription which enabled me to read the NYer article. Therefore, this posting is courtesy of my exboyfriends.

Fun new game? If X sent me an article, it would be about Y...
If EtchASketch sent me an article, it would be about where he placed in a marathon, or how carbs are back as the new weight-loss mechanism, or how the average age for marriage is rising so he is therefore very trendsetting and stylish.
etc.

your momma

The NYT is like your mother: indiscriminately, unabashedly using capital letters with no discernible logic, often about bird-related topics.

For what it's worth, I'm glad I grabbed the screen shot because they've already fixed it.

going to college for your MRS

To get into my school's library, you need to show your ID card. If you don't have an ID card, you sign in. Today, I was checking out books (The Giving Tree & Leo Lionni's Frederick, I'll have you know. Not REAL books), and glanced over at the sign=in sheet.

Name: Rob S.
Time In: 9:45am
Reason: Looking for my fiancee.

I cracked up.

Is he going to the library to meet his fiancee? And why not aim high, and try to look for your wife?

Can you imagine? Rolling up to a club, getting carded by the bouncer.
"Oh yeah? 21, you say? What's your reason for being here?"
"Oh, I'm just looking for my future husband. Like all the other tube-topped-girls in this bar."
"Carry on, miss, carry on. Rumor has it that the guy on the right side of the bar has a Tiffany's ring in his pocket and he's not afraid to use it."

another book I wish I'd written (even if it is sort of a rip off of Cooking For Mr Latte)

(Interview from http://www.fashionweekdaily.com/Fashion/fullstory.sps?iNewsid=327325&itype=8487)

Cooked on a Feeling
Club Monaco's new project

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

(NEW YORK) Last year, the industry heard rumbles of Club Monaco’s new plan—to become a lifestyle and not just a label. Rumors flew of a beauty line, a magazine, a hotel like Club Med, but nothing happened. Then last week, the changes began, as Club Monaco moved out of the studio—and into the kitchen.

This month, the brand gets behind Spooning, a combination novel and cookbook that name drops designers and gives casserole recipes on the same page. On the eve of Club Monaco’s party for the book, The Daily sat down with its authors, Darri Stephens and Megan DeSales, to discuss their wardrobes—and their big plans.

Club Monaco is throwing your book launch, but did they sponsor your actual book?
Megan: No, and we actually didn’t mention Club Monaco in our book at all! We mentioned a few other designers, like Diane Von Furstenberg, but Club Monaco reached out to us about the project. We thought it was a perfect match as a brand.

But your book isn’t about girls who want to become brands.
Megan: No, our characters in the book are really young, like 23 or 24, and they hear from their moms that you need to find the perfect recipe to find the perfect guy. Meanwhile, they’re trying to find cool clothes and find their way in New York.

Is it based on you?
Darri: Totally! I used to work for Martha Stewart, so the concept of expanding past your kitchen and turning it into a brand—I get that part. I was a field producer but the environment really taught me a lot about how to build yourself—the different studios mimicked the kitchens in her homes and she had duck faucets on all of the sinks…it was really like another world.

Megan, your other job is producing segments on MTV. Was your book written to be adapted for a show, Candace Bushnell-style?
Megan: All of the stories are episodic, so we did think of it as a TV show. The funny thing is, coming from TV, we tried to keep everything evergreen—no brand names—because that’s what you’re taught to do in the industry. We literally went through chapter by chapter and took out references!

But despite the potential for the book to become a Sex and the City kind of thing, it’s really based on your lives.
Megan: Yes! One night when we’d just moved to New York, Darri’s mom called and told her, “You’re not going to meet a guy unless you know how to cook.” Everyone laughed, but we got it, and we started this cooking club to meet guys. I know—we thought it was so funny, we wrote a book about it.
FARAN KRENTCIL

i blog so you don't have to (or rather, i read blogs so you don't have to)

aka the blogosphere in 30seconds

stephanie klein moved to austin. the suitor is annoying her lots.
http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/

melissa has not made any more incendiary statements re: tasti d, thankfully. but she has scared me off of childbirth forever.
http://opinionistas.com/

heather locklear to denise richards: you're dead to me.
http://perezhilton.com/

thinperfection posted her stats (fat!), received many nasty comments, deleted her blog. (i know, this one will really upset you).
http://groups.xanga.com/sitemessage.aspx?user=thinperfection86

still no word from butterscotch.
http://www.xanga.com/ButterxScotch

or your mother. what's up with her bird?!

socialitelife has changed their format. i approve wholeheartedly.
http://socialitelife.com/

jamie&belle are still beautiful and cooking, jamie scantily clad.
http://jamieandbelle.blogspot.com/

that's all for now!

disclaimer

i did not realize that both those poems were about the loss of a loved one, so although it comes as no real surprise to me, it was completely unintentional.

poetry is SUCH a rorschach test.

poetry tuesdays take two (because i couldn't decide)

The Widow's Lament in Springtime, by William Carlos Williams

Sorrow is my own yard
where the new grass
flames as it has flamed
often before but not
with the cold fire
that closes round me this year.
Thirtyfive years
I lived with my husband.
The plumtree is white today
with masses of flowers.
Masses of flowers
load the cherry branches
and color some bushes
yellow and some red
but the grief in my heart
is stronger than they
for though they were my joy
formerly, today I notice them
and turn away forgetting.
Today my son told me
that in the meadows,
at the edge of the heavy woods
in the distance, he saw
trees of white flowers.
I feel that I would like
to go there
and fall into those flowers
and sink into the marsh near them.

poetry tuesdays

The Yoke, by Frank Bidart

don't worry I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again
toward me

when I hear your voice there is now
no direction in which to turn

I sleep and wake and sleep and wake and sleep and wake and

but tonight
turn your face again

toward me

see upon my shoulders is the yoke
that is not a yoke

don't worry I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again

celebrities in my inbox

today has been the best email day in a while:

From: Gwyneth Paltrow and Blythe Danner
(Re: Mother's Day Challenge from Planned Parenthood)

From: Matt Damon
(Re: Lessons from Africa for ONE)

3 requests for interviews for jobs I've applied to.

1 invitation to a tour of funerary art in a local cemetery.

1 invitation to a champagne reception. I love me some champagne.

and only 1 from Liberty University!

lyricizing

have been listening to this song on repeat. No, really. Because my ipod is frozen, it will only play this one song. I guess there are worse songs it could be stuck on (for example, I do have Wannabe, by the Spice Girls loaded onto my ipod). But now I've listened to it so much that it has sort of become my anthem and every line is starting to ring true.

What I want to say: I love you. I miss you. I'll follow you to Philadelphia. I'll follow you to Botswana. I'll follow you anywhere, because you make me happy.

What I actually say: Things are pretty good. Am I dating? Well, yeah, I guess.. but nothing serious.

It's true. I am. (Thursday pm, Dinner Plans.) But it's not the whole truth. There's so much of it that I'm not saying.

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

i wish....

... that google maps were overlaid with t/subway-maps.

i think that's up there with diet vodka as a brilliant idea.

copyrighted, of course.

shopbopping all around town

shopped on Friday for possible Derbywear... ended up at the Harvard Square Mint Julep, and what a perfect name for a dress in which to sip mint juleps?

Bought a cute halter dress, which I wore on Saturday, & a v. cool cropped floral trapeze jacket with a big button..

both *incredibly* reasonably priced (one was in the $80's, one in the $90's, but I can't remember which was which), both by a brand called Kenzie, which I'd never heard of...

so I googled. And apparently it is the sister brand of mac&jac, the brand YOU discovered on your bloomingdale's shopping excursion! Kenzie: Mac&Jac :: Skipper: Barbie, apparently.

This is the jacket. And yes, I sort of think it's even cuter on me.

couples, couples, everywhere

and not a drop to drink...

This type of thing (everyone matching one another) was typical of last night.


After the party, we went out to dinner, a big group of us. I didn't realize until we sat down that it was all couples, and then me. Fine, whatever. A's boyfriend asks the waitress if she can do separate checks, since we're such a big group and we don't want to deal with the hassle. She says sure, what are the groups? He motions at himself and A, "us." Motions at the next couple, "Those two." He continues around the table, two by two. Finally gets to me. Pauses. "Um. And then.. I guess, just one?" He is clearly very embarassed. He didn't plan this. He's not a mean person. He's actually rather wonderful. I see A give him a Look of Death. He coughs. He blushes. "Um, actually it will be the three of us on one check." He makes a threesome joke. A changes the subject.

I count to 100. I walk calmly to the bathroom. I cry.

notes to future guests

1. If invitation says party begins at 4, please do not arrive before 4:15 unless you are a good friend.
2. If invitation says party ends at 7, please do not stay after 7:05 unless you are helping me clean up.
3. As a guest, your job is to make conversation with people, even if they are in a different "group" than you.
4. When cleaning up a spill, please wait for me to bring paper towels rather than using the cute party napkins.
5. It's nice to bring your own wine. It's not nice to insist on drinking only that, and giving very specific instructions about precisely how much to chill it for maximum taste, and not sharing with others. Especially when it's just a bottle of "Two Buck Chuck."

overall, really fun though.

2.5 hours and only...

.. 2 baked bries
.. 4 pitchers of mint juleps
.. 60 brownie bourbon balls
.. 100 cucumber sandwiches
.. 50 "talk derby to me" ballons
.. hair straightening
.. apt vacuuming
.. etc etc etc!

to go!

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer’s men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning—fresh as if issued to children on a beach.

What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said, “Musing among the vegetables?”—was that it?—“I prefer men to cauliflowers”—was that it? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terrace—Peter Walsh. He would be back from India one of these days, June or July, she forgot which, for his letters were awfully dull; it was his sayings one remembered; his eyes, his pocket-knife, his smile, his grumpiness and, when millions of things had utterly vanished—how strange it was!—a few sayings like this about cabbages.

flower power

Hosting 40 people at my apartment tomorrow afternoon for the Derby, prepping my apartment. (yikes)

The official flower of the Derby is red roses, and they're supposed to be everywhere... but I couldn't bring myself to buy 2 dozen red roses, for myself. It was just too, too sad.

So I bought beautiful purple orchids, and hot pink tulips trimmed in white, and I'm planning a double-secret mission at nightfall, to clip some beautiful&fragrant flowers from this tree [white one] in the courtyard outside my window. As I see it, my neighbors couldn't possibly call the cops on me twice... could they?

he's just that into you

went out last night with my girlfriends, and my two drink limit went out the window. Ended up talking to three guys who were friends from high school (they meet every month. Beet, can we please do this?!), two of whom were married wth children (note: they hid their ring hands intentionally, I would kill my husband if I found out he was doing this) and were acting as the wingmen for their friend. Eventually ended up talking to the single one, because he was the one buying the drinks.. and slowly my friends started packing up and going to meet their boyfriends.. and I stayed, with this guy who I didn't necessarily find attractive, who was 34, but who was incredibly entertaining and was knowledgable re Boston restos and neighborhoods and just very funny. His friends left. My friends left. Drinks continued at another bar.

SK posted the other day about how the man should always love the woman a little bit more (http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/greek_tragedy/2006/05/a_nod_to_sunblo.html)... and I don't know if it's true in every situation, but I know that at this point in my life (i.e. recently dumped), I want someone to be more into me than I into him, versus being "just not that into" me. So I gave him my number. He made me laugh, he was a perfect gentleman and walked me home and didn't attempt to come in or make me feel uncomfortable, why do I feel like I have to justify it to myself?

But he may be a little TOO overeager. I knew he was into me from the onset, but when I told him I was Jewish I knew that he was sunk. "How long have your parents been married?" he asked. He sent me a text message when he got home to tell me he would call today.

I mean, the man went to Deerfield when it was an all boy's school. It is a total generational disconnect.

But I had good, alcohol-infused fun with him. Do I add him on as one of my ten dates?

facebook definitively jumps the shark

first, it was ivy league-only... and life was good.
then, it allowed some small selective nescac-type schools... and life was still good.
then, slowly but surely, more schools were allowed... and life was still good.
then, anyone with an edu address could join facebook, including UMA... and the lack of exclusivity was mitigated by maximizing the stalking potential.

then, in possibly the worst move ever, facebook allowed high schoolers to join...

and now, the opening of the gates has continued...

basically anyone can join.

oh, facebook, why has thou allowed in the riffraff??

Three months after opening its digital doors to high school students, Facebook.com is now allowing users in newly-created “work networks” to register on the site with “.com” or “.org” e-mail addresses.

http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref=513312

the last two searches that landed people at our blog

1. doctors remove maggot from woman's scalp on 101 More Things Removed From The Human Body
2. maggot remove

and more:
chip & pepper fraternity boy
beetie veronica mars
890 calories "longevity recipe"
my friends hot mom

live, from liberty university

I keep receiving emails from Liberty University. I now just write back "DECEASED," and they seemed to have abated somewhat.

Until this morning, when I receievd this one, apparently intended for doppelganger:

From: Deal, Rachael Lynn
Sent: Wed 5/3/2006 10:22 PM
To: ME, unfortunately
Subject: hey

hey sorry i missed your call tonight, i was outside and then studying for a final tomorrow, and forgot until just know, but i know you go to bed early, but i didnt know how early and i didnt want to wake you up. i have class till 245 tomorrow, ill try and give you a call or you can call me if you think about it. have a good day!

rachael

At least my name-a-like has the same sleeping habits as I do! Perhaps we'd get along... minus that whole right-wing conservative Jerry Falwell-loving missionary thing.

retro

I'm the absolute worst of keeping in touch with old friends. But it's nice, sometimes, to talk to people who knew you Way Back When, because they remind you of who you were then.. and who you still might be. I spoke with my best non-Beet high school friend for a couple hours online last night.

are you engaged to be wed? are you a trophy wife yet?
are YOU married yet or what
(ps good god i hope we never get old enough to ask one another if we're married for real and have the answer be, nope, single)
i think your ps says a lot about you
what do you mean
that i don't want to end up alone?
yes
you'd be such a hip single!
i am probably one of the few girls my age who found the sex and the city girls a little pathetic

i am very proud of you, for continuing to write
and jealous
i like jealousy
but i hope it inspires
because deeep down, you are a better writer than me
why did you ever stop? you totally rocked my world
i envied you immensely
there were, like, at least 10 times during college that i thought about calling you and saying "read my novel" because i figure you'd be famous before me and put a quote on the back cover

getting older is becoming a little absurd i think
how so
thinking about the past doesn't feel much like memories anymore. more like movies of someone else
movies that i really want to watch
let's just say
the present tense is becoming a little too present

I mean, DOESN'T HE EVEN TYPE LIKE A CHARACTER IN A MOVIE?!

We ended up having this very intense discussion re: medication, and I was somehow able to say things to him that I really have not felt able to say to anyone. And I don't know if it's because I feel like he still knows me so well, so I feel comfortable with him, or because he doesn't know who I am now at all, so I don't feel threatened, or a little of both, in a weird way.

He said this, and doesn't it sound like something I would say? Or have said?:

i thought: i'd really like to travel. to LA. to africa. to antartica. and i'll never be able to do that unless i take some medication. there's no fucking reason to be so hesistant. if i can take a pill a day that doesn't make me happy, but allows me to be happy but physiologically prevent me from being unahppy, then sign me up

He made me laugh:

because you're an artiste
and the rest of the people may as well live in the midwest

and laugh:

you've got good wit too
you sometimes hide it in your parenthesis
but i like that

And laugh:

more than anything else
there was one problem
but might not be a problem for you
i lost my ability to get a good erection
so i went to see the doctor
and he said that he coudl put me on viagra
and so there I was
on a sunny day
in his office
23
23
23
thinking man, i'm 23
all he has to do is fucking write the word viagra and sign it and then i'm back in business
but then i'd be on viagra
but here's the convincer what shoud convince you to at least consider medication
i thought: wow, i've never felt this good in my whole life. i'm just so much calmer and happy to experience life. i'd rather have this than a good erection
that's how good i felt
23
23
23

in case you failed to notice, in case you failed to see

we have now inaugurated Poetry Tuesdays (or whenever we feel so inspired).

From poetryfoundation.org:

90 percent of American readers value poetry highly and believe it enriches their lives.

64% of adult readers think that people should read more poetry.

Students who don’t merely read poetry, but also memorize, recite, and write it, are more likely to read it later in life.

When people encounter poetry in unexpected places such as newspapers, general-interest magazines and public events, 81% reported that they read or listen to the poem

Among the most frequently cited reasons that people don’t read poetry are lack of time, loss of interest, lack of access, and the perception that poetry is difficult and irrelevant.

mommy and me

so according to salary.com:

If paid, Stay at Home Moms would earn $134,121 annually (up from 2005's salary of $131,471). Working Moms would earn $85,876 annually for the "mom job" portion of their work, in addition to their actual "work job" salary.

We found the job titles that best matched a mom's definition of her work to be (in order of hours spent per week): housekeeper, day care center teacher, cook, computer operator, laundry machine operator, janitor, facilities manager, van driver, CEO, and psychologist. New job titles that made the list in 2006 include psychologist, laundry machine operator, and computer operator. The job title of nurse fell out of the top 10 this year.

Their suggestion is to (no joke) create a "mom paycheck." Come on now!

Every year around Mother's Day someone does a similar thing, calculating what a "stay-at-home-mom" would be paid. I just think it's SO not the point.

I'm a bit obsessed with this issue. I can't get enough of it. I feel pressures on both sides. I know that it meant a lot to me to come home and have my mom there, and that much of our important bonding was done then. I knew I could call her to pick me up when I was sick, or that she'd melt brie cheese on crackers or sprinkle cinnamon on apple slices when I got home, and that I knew that she would be there. (For the record, she sometimes worked part-time during my childhood.) I know that I want that with my children. I also know that perhaps I could have benefitted from a female role model who had lots of drive, and that I would want my daughters to grow up with a role model like that.. but without missing out on the other stuff. I'm not like The Dinosaur, I don't have a No Nannies Edict. I think it's something that every woman really has to decide for herself. Like dating high school boys, "It's a personal choice that every woman has got to make for herself!"

I think the tragedy of it is how it's polarized in the media, how "stay-at-homes" and "working-moms" are pitted against eachother in "The Mommy Wars" (especially since the divisions are rarely so clearly cut, and many SAHM's do some sort of paid work as well). There's a really fabulous book by Miriam Peskowitz, who is just incredibly smart, called "The Truth Behind The Mommy Wars: Who Decides What Makes A Good Mother?" It's really readable (though she generally writes more academic texts), and it's really wonderful and smart and funny and a bit heartbreaking too, because it has been followed by books that continue to perpetuate the war-like status, e.g. "Mommy Wars: Stay-at-home and Career Moms Face Off on Their CHoices, Their Lives, Their Families." Now tell me how a book like THAT is helpful.

From amazon.com's description of Miriam's book:

The media, from Dr. Phil to the New York Times Magazine, is adamant that there is no love lost between working parents and those who stay home with their children, each fighting an ideological and economic war based on what they think is best for their children. Yet in reality, as Miriam Peskowitz powerfully discloses, parents don't want to fight one another at all; they simply want more options. Moreover, the very sides in this debate don't exist: one third of all mothers work part-time, falling into the vast abyss between full-time careerist and at-home mommy. How does the corporate climate in America force women to claim either a career or a family at any given time? Are the choices women are making—to either adjust careers, "carousel" in and out of the workplace, or quit altogether—really choices at all? And how do we expand the definition of productive worker to include an engaged parent? These questions and more are answered and explored in this moving and convincing treatise on the new-century collision between work and mothering.

90 Second Latest

Cuteass (in the professional sense) shoes on sale at J.Crew. I tell you only because I know your feet are bigger and therefore you won't snatch them up before I order!

Somehow i am being heavily recruited for a $70,000/yr job. Not exactly sure why. Or how. Or what, exactly, the company does. VERY Bendini Lambert & Locke.)

Upcoming Theory sample sale, first week of June.

Why has your mom stopped blogging?!

What to wear to my Derby Party?! Crisis.

And "loving" this NYer cartoon:

Dear USA Network

Moving SVU to 8 o' clock is REALLY messing with my schedule.

Love,
Me.

poem 3

Continuity
by A. R. Ammons

I've pressed so
far away from
my desire that

if you asked
me what I
want I would,

accepting the harmonious
completion of the
drift, say annihilation,

probably.

awful

me, at 7:41 am:
Wow, I just remembered that Ex-Boy called last night while I was in the shower. Guess I should call him back tonight. That is SO great that I am only JUST thinking of it! I am definitely headed in the right direction! I am moving on! Yahoo.

me, at 7:42 am:
Let me check facebook before I get my busy day started.

me, at 7:43 am:
I can't breathe. I have never felt so disrespected in my entire life.

Beet, please go check his facebook picture, and then prepare to eulogize me should I go the way of Amicus.

this weekend's menu

- Mint Juleps
- Sweet Spiced Pecans
- Baked Brie with Apricot Preserves
- Ham & Cheese Biscuits
- Macademia Coconut Derby Tartlets
- and a side of Lilly Pulitzer

poem of the day 2

Purple Bathing Suit, by Louise Gluck

I like watching you garden
with your back to me in your purple bathing suit:
your back is my favorite part of you,
the part furthest away from your mouth.

You might give some thought to that mouth.
Also to the way you weed, breaking
the grass off at ground level
when you should pull it up by the roots.

How many times do I have to tell you
how the grass spreads, your little
pile notwithstanding, in a dark mass which
by smoothing over the sruface you have finally
fully obscured? Watching you

stare into space in the tidy
rows of the vegetable garden, ostensibly
working hard while actually
doing the worst job possible, I think

you are a small irritating purple thing
and I would like to see you walk off the face of the earth
because you are all that's wrong with my life
and I need you and I claim you.

by the numbers

3 interviews scheduled for the next two weeks (2 in Boston-area, 1 in NYC).

13 people, out of 50something, who have RSVP'd like polite people to our Derby Do.

22 thirteen year old boys for whom I am in charge of organizing a Trivia Contest and essentially baby-sitting, following my cousins' casual backyard bar mitzvah.

2 presentations to give on Wednesday, 0 of which I have begun.

658 calories consumed today.

i love slash want (a mini-photo-essay)

keri's hair (cut, color, curl)
jen's body (hellO yoga) *image from perezhilton, hence the writing.
real world mallory's j.crew wedding

this will make you feel WAY better re: any issues you may be having with guys

It certainly made my own problems PALE in comparison, and underscores that I really just don't understand men and probably never will.

In high school, I used to baby-sit for the cutest little girl on the planet. She was totally precocious and hysterical. I was in love with her, and with her parents (cutest couple ever! attractive! sweet! wonderful!), and their house, and their dog, and their life. I wanted to be them. So much so that when I researched a couple for my "Composing A Life After College" class, they were it. She was my mentor, helped me get an internship, recommended the best pilates studio in town, was always fashionable and adorable. I loved that She had successfully managed to have a child, stay home with her, and transition her work to freelance things that She could do largely from home. They clearly had a wonderful relationship, He and She, and the love they felt for one another was really evident all the time, and I wanted that sort of life for myself, someday. They were friends with my parents (though younger), and we saw a lot of them.

Then they moved to another City (better job opportunities for Him). They had another, adorable baby. Suddenly, out of nowhere, He wants a divorce. She is mystified. He moves out. She can't move back to NY, because He has visitation rights. She is trapped in new City she went to because of him. She has no idea what happened or why. She wants to try therapy. He does not. She asks, is there someone else? He says, no. She asks, Why? He says He does not love Her anymore.

This was about 4 months ago, Xmastime. She still has not figured out what in the world happened. The kids are devastated. She is devastated.

She googles him, today. He has a MySpace page. All his MySpace friends are 18 year old girls. He is "in a relationship" with one of these 18year old girls. He lists his children as his "heroes" and quotes cheesy lovesongs to his New Girlfriend.

Is that not the worst story you've ever heard in your LIFE?!

G, B, U

The Good: Thumbs up for all the Smart Ones desserts I've tried (Mississippi Mud Pie, NY Cheesecake with Cherry, Key Lime Pie).

The Bad: Tons of papers due this week and feeling v. overwhelmed ("can you ever be just whelmed?") and pressed for time.

The Ugly: Ex-Boy returned my keys, as per my request. Sans note, sans anything that would ever imply that we had ever loved each other at all.