Misc: I am an awful blog……ist. Blogeress?

Posted: September 18, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Humor, Miscellaneous, personal, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

 

Please forgive me, Mrs. Lynd. even though you’re still a busy body and wear weird hats. Not like me. I’ve got awesome red hair and an awesome little french girl hat.

 

Okay, this time I’ve actually worked blogging time into my schedule. Like I legit wrote it down and added it to my color coding system. Yes, I have a color-coding system. My schedule’s that gangsta.

Anyways, I have no excuses this time for not keeping up with this little blog. I don’t know why I just called it little. It’s a normal sized blog. There’s nothing little about it. I should have been keeping up with it. While I spent that half-hour contemplating how that weird kid across the hall can possibly drink Corona, I should have been writing. The only comfort I can offer to you, my downtrodden readers, is that if this is how bad my blog is, just imagine how long it’s been since I’ve touched the first Novel of Unbelievable Magic Power.

So, for this first blog back from a long time of being lazy and not blogging, what should I write about? I have like twenty awkward stories. Like the time that I went to this awkward bar and……yeah. And then the time I stared at this guy for no reason and he thought I was a weird psycho. There are many options.

But, I guess I’ll start with something about boys. Giggle Giggle.

Have you heard? He still thinks it looks good to put that gel in his hair! Giggle Giggle.

I never claimed to be an exotic beauty. In my own mind, of course, I picture myself as a mix of Angelina Jolie and Eva Green and Lauren Bacall. In reality, it’s much different. I’m just……..well, unremarkable, I guess. And I’m not saying this to get down on myself. I’m pretty sure it’s a proven fact. I’m not the girl that stops the room talking and makes all men stop and take a second look. I’m just not. And I don’t think I’d want to be that girl all the time. It could be really tiring. All that attention. All that tweezing.

If I were to be in a really bad movie, I would be the best friend. The best friend of the hot guy who is after the head cheerleader. He’d date said cheerleader and then after a few Lizzy McGuire songs, realize that his true love was right under his nose and go back to the best friend, who’s secretly been in love with him for the whole 92 minutes.

Yes, I would end up with the guy. BUt I’d also be ignored for the first…screw it, most of the movie. I’d get the audience’s pity. Maybe my girl best friend would understand and feel like my guy best friend is a jackass for not seeing what’s right in front of him……….

I’m not okay with that. I’m not the girl who should be ignored. I’m funny. I improve greatly upon acquaintance. At this point, I’d even take a Mr. Darcy/ Lizzy situation. I’d take some prejudice over…….nothing. I would like someone of the opposite sex for once to chase me.

That’s me. Grace surrounded effortlessly by a bunch of men. I do that all the time. I just snap my fingers and they show up. Can’t get rid of them. There’s only so many dozens of roses a girl can take.

IN my past. My…….*evil theme song* relationship past, I have always been the chasee. Well, not quite. I’m the one who sees a guy across a room and immediately goes weak at the knees. Said guy has absolutely no idea I exist so I try and awkwardly put myself in his line of vision, sort of speak. He generally still ignores me until I dont know, he feels like he’s in the mood for a change of scenery. Sometimes, they run in the other direction.

i suppose it doesn’t help that my taste inevitably runs towards bad guys. Those guys NEVER pay attention to me. I guess I just don’t have enough…..edge for them. I’m too round and tubby and……….soft.

James: Hey, there.
Grace: Wha…..wha mee?
James: No. Wait, sorry I didn’t even see you there. That other girl. Behind you.
Grace: That’s a cardboard cutout of Marilyn Monroe.
James: It’ll work in a pinch.

But, whatever. This is me just overthinking things again. As my friend has just pointed out, even if I did get some guy following me around, I wouldn’t go out with him, because, as she says, I am the DateTerminator for a reason.

Don’t hate.

I have high standards…………….or I’m just like socially inept. Whatever. I like to think I turn it into the strong silent mysterious type. Like James Bond or dear old Humphrey Bogart.

 

Here’s Looking at You

 

 

Personal/Back to School edition: 5 awkward things.

Posted: September 1, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Humor, personal | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Okay, I am still here. I swear. I’m a busy girl, sometimes, but I’m still here. And I have a marvelous back to school edition of totally awkward things that I’ve come across. Of course, I have come across more than five totally awkward things, it’s me, remember, but we don’t have all day.

 

1.  The hallway Look

How you doin’, Steve? Good. How are the kids?

This is basically what the hallway lookeeloo is about. It’s really that awkward. Actually it’s probably more awkward than being in a zero gravity situation in the middle of a dream in a dream. And about Inception, while I’m at it. If I were in a dream with Joseph Gordon Levitt, Leonardo diCaprio and Tom Hardy, why would I be trying to wake up? That would be the last thing I’d be trying to do. Sink me into the dream. I want to go like layer cake deep in that thing .

But. About the hallway look. You never know what to do. Do you make eye contact and smile? Do you walk quickly with your head down. Do you pretend to be really interested in a stupid poster on a corkboard? There’s no etiquette for the hallway greeting. It’s awful and it’s even worse when you know the person. Then, sometimes they don’t see you and you look really stupid for waving and then, sometimes you don’t see them and………grrrr. I hate the hallways of schools. Always have. The hallways of anywhere really.

 

2. Eating in the Cafeteria.

This is another thing. Eating dinner is one thing if you’re in a restaurant and you’re with people and you have your own table and some nice lighting. But in Cafeterias it’s bright and sanitary and you often have to sit somewhere you don’t want to. And you have these trays and its really awkward and they never have any mayonnaise and you’re pumping up and down with the mayonnaise dispenser for a full five minutes before you realize why all the freshmen at the guy’s table are laughing.

“I think we should fly east. For harvest season!”

Sitting by myself isn’t something I mind. It’s kind of peaceful after a long day, but, whereas in a restaurant no one really cares because people in restaurants are mature and adult, everyone’s looking at you. This is not my own self-consciouness. They’re looking. Girls think its sad that you have no friends cuz you’re not travelling in a flock. Guys think something must be wrong with you because you don’t have your own flock to travel around with. Isn’t that stupid?

In the past, I’ve heard that guys are afraid to talk to a girl if she’s with a bunch of other girls. Now, if a girls’ sitting by herself, they think something’s wrong with her and refuse to talk to her…….which brings me to the next subject.

3. Boys, what happened to courtesy?

Even Don bloody Draper holds the door for Betty. Seriously.

I’m not asking for the floor to be strewn with flowers every time I walk in the door. I’m not. I get that we’re in the twenty first century. I understand. But why don’t guys know how to be nice anymore? At this point, It’s not just not holding the door. It’s just not nice, for man or woman. We should have known it would happen, women. Give them an inch, they take a mile.

The other day,I had my hands full and I had a cup of coffee in one hand and I found myself holding the door open for a guy. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even grab the door like you usually do. And he didn’t have anything in his hands! Or his skull apparently….and his pants……….I’m not going to go there. but HA!! Here’s another example. At the end of a long day, I was going back to my dorm and I was tired and grumpy. I’d walked all day and had a lot of books in my bookbag and it was hot and I couldn’t find my keys because they were underneath all the books and I had this receipt and I could not find a trash can to throw it out in for my life. And one of the guy’s who lives in my dorm………right across the hall from me, and a bunch of his friends were about to go inside. I was like “oh hey, I don’t have to find my keys”. Great! What great timing.

And then they all go inside and close the door behind them. I LIVE ACROSS THE HALL!! I’m pretty sure I was introduced to that guy at some point. Yeah, I don’t really know his name or…..anything else really, but still. I recognize him. And, why should it matter? Do I look like an axe murderer. If the situations were reversed, I would have held the door. I would have asked if they were going in and held the stupid door. Because they didn’t hold the door, I had to put my bag down pull out half the books, look for my keys, drop the receipt. So then I was pissed, tired, and a litterer. So yeah, they didn’t earn any brownie points.

But then, to put icing on the cake, apparently one of their friends was waiting outside and saw me grumbling about their inability to open the door and when I saw them again, they all started laughing. Like holding the door is my problem.

Thanks boys.

4. Diggin around for something in your bag.

It’s awkward. As the key story demonstrated. I hate looking for things in my bag. I literally plan ahead so I don’t have to dig. It looks stupid and it looks like you’re unprepared and just………….yuck…..yuck. yuck.

Yes, I do have an authentic Amazonian dart gun in my bag. You never know when it might come in handy.

5. Double entendre trouble.

 

How do you like your cigarettes??? Yeah. I thought so.

 

Maybe it’s just me. But anytime I’m in a situation where I’m supposed to act grown up and mature and professionals, I find double entendres everywhere. Almost anything that comes out of a professor/advisor/fellow student/dean’s mouth is dirty. Even that. Coming out of someone’s mouth……hee hee. See? I cannot help it I swear. The more I tell myself not to think about it, I think more about it. That by far is one of the worst things that are awkward about school. Legit.

 

Here’s Looking at you.

Personal/Dating: Stay strong in the face of…..Jeremy Renner?

Posted: August 20, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Humor, personal | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

Let’s talk about dating. Don’t ask me why that just sounded like we were going to talk about sex in a really awkward sixth grade sort of way. Is it just me or was that conversation totally redundant? I mean, really. It was just like an hour of awkwardness that was so so unnecessary.

My friend is on a break. She’s on a dating break, which can be good. She’s focusing on her career and aspirations and her family and her friends. By friends I mean me. I think this is an underrated idea, the idea of not dating. For myself, I know that sometimes in the past, you date someone just to be nice. It’s called the pity date. Or you date them because you think you can fix them or that they will get better with time. To all that I say: It won’t happen. If you aren’t panting and humping their leg like a dog in heat, I say don’t go there. Usually when I did something like pity dating, I regretted it almost immediately.

But, while I have no problem turning down dates (I may or not be called the date terminator by some of my friends), I don’t deny that it’s not always easy. As my friend has been telling me, sometimes the opposite sex manages to just be so damn tempting you literally have to close your eyes. I can sympathize with this. I mean Richard Armitage should be instant prof that this is so.

*closes eyes* Hide your amazing sideburns. I can’t take it.
As an aside, I will just take this moment to say that I liked Richard Armitage long before it was cool. Yes, think back to 2005 and North and South. I was a fan. When all you people see the Hobbit, you will understand.

So in honor of the things that men somehow manage to do right, despite their general ineptness at understanding the opposite, I will post five things that make men hard to resist.

1. Smiling

Okay, I apologize. I meant to find an attractive man smiling. I did not mean to find Italian actor Raoul Bova smiling WITHOUT a shirt while holding an adorable dog. IN the water.
Yes, I can give you a second to recover.

The little buggers do it at the most unexpected of times, don’t they? Just as you think they’re awful and don’t want to ever see them ever again, they smile. It doesn’t even have to be AT you. Just a smile and suddenly you give them a second look. To be fair, I assume this works both ways. Actually, I know it works both ways. But still.

2. Being unexpectedly kind

This technique has been used many times. Mostly when they think you’re about to break up with them. And it does usually add a couple weeks to a failing relationship. They’ll start doing kind things or just start opening their eyes and stop buying you peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when they know you’re allergic to peanut butter.

It’s kind of a lazy idea, however, because what happened to just being nice all the time? Can’t men just plan on general upkeep of niceness. Or is that just too hard to manage?

3. Chivalry

Oh, you have such nice…….chain mail. Actually it’s kind of uncomfortable. Can I stop clinging to you now? Is that okay?

Feminists were, for some reason, sure that opening the car door was tantamount to degrading male chauvinist behavior of the worst order. Don’t ask me why. It’s totally swung the other way nowadays. If you wait for them to open a door, be it car, regular, or the hatch to your time travel machine, you’ll be waiting forever. Sometimes they’ll wonder what’s happened to you and look confused when you’re still outside. I’ve seen guys who don’t even do that hold the door over the shoulder until you can grab it thing.

If men realized how valuable this is, maybe there would be less war in the world. I don’t think it’s belittling and I’m pretty far to the feminist side. Me and Susan B. Anthony are thick as thieves.

4. Holding a sentient conversation.

We’re girls. We like to talk. We aren’t necessarily creatures of sight. We aren’t motivated totally by what we see, unlike most men. So, therefore the most obvious way to attract our attention would be to appeal to our feelings and our mind, right? This is obviously why we come across all those guys trying to have discussions about books and the meaning of lift. And not stupid inane conversations about video games we’ve never played in our life.

I can see that if you’re talking to someone who also likes video games. But,generally that’s not the case. We see your eyes glass over when we start talking about shoes but you don’t see us complaining about how much you play video games. We have a higher tolerance for talking about something that makes no sense to us, I guess. But, hey, it should work both ways.

If a man can talk real fancy, believe me, we’re halfway to the aisle. Or whatever other rectangular thing you’d like to steer us to.

5. Looking good in a certain light?

“Yeah, have a nice day……..woah! Wait. Stop. Back up. Freeze.”

The other day, I was driving across states and I stopped for lunch at some little cafe. I remember ordering a scone and a coffee and settling down for a little break with a good book. I remember sitting next to someone. He didn’t seem to be that remarkable. I read my book for about a half an hour. Just as he stood up to leave, I looked up and some really bad lighting made him look distinctly like Jeremy Renner. It didn’t last. He quickly turned back to normal but it was very unsettling. If they can look like Jeremy Renner, what can’t they do? It’s like unfair mind control.

As TotallyIrresistable mentioned when I mentioned when I brought up this conundrum, at least I didn’t run into a Johnny Depp look-alike, who then left with his Gisele Bundchen look-alike girlfriend like she did. Point taken, TotallyIrresistable, point taken.

Here’s looking at you.

Books: Why So Many Sad/Engimatic Endings?

Posted: August 15, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Books, Humor, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

I’ve read a few books lately. I’ve read some heavy stuff lately (poetry, John Le Carre, which usually confuses me for the next two weeks, Ernest Hemingway, etc) so I wanted a story that had  happy ending. I wanted a good read that had good writing that ends with a storytale ending. I wanted something that I knew was going to make me feel all warm and gooey and totally disinterested in real life. Like Disney Princess happy.

So, first I read a book by Alexander McCall Smith called La’s Orchestra Saves the World. 

Look. It’s all happy. It’s all happy. There’s all these cute little ducks in a cute duck carrying basket for a bicycle. Somehow, I know that this bicycle would make me a hundred times cooler than I already am. It’s also by the guy who wrote the N.1 Ladies Detective Agency . It’s about world war two and how this girl La creates an Orchestra in Surrey for the RAF. In the front cover sleeve summary there was a lovely little description of the story. At some point a Polish refugee was supposed to steal La’s heart and I thought:

HAPPY ENDING!!!!

YAYYY!!!

And it *SPOILERS!* was. Kinda. What actually happened was that the Polish IDIOT was too shy to ever mention the fact he fancied the knickers off of her. And THIRTY YEARS went by. He married someone else. And was unhappy. You’ve lived through a war, people? I think you can handle telling a girl you’re in love with her. Plus, there was like no motivation for him to go get married to someone else.

It was very cute and they did end up together but it was very frustrating. There are a lot of books that I like, in which they don’t end up together right away. This book just didn’t make sense. I mean, why didn’t they just say? Why? There was no real reason. It wasn’t like that Eva Ibbotson book, where Marek felt all devastated and had to go exact revenge on Hitler. This Polish block. He just……left to marry someone who immediately left him with two kids for no reason. And she took him back. After thirty years. After that long, I’d have moved on to someone much hotter and more take charge……like Ryan Gosling.

So, that book left me somewhat unhappy. It wasn’t as happy ending happy ending as I had planned. There weren’t any cute forest animals singing along happily. You know what I mean.

That Owl looks a little bit like a creeper. Just saying. Maybe he’s checking out another lady owl. Why am I picturing him with a Mr. Collins voice?

Still in search for my love story, I next picked up The Dressmaker by Kate Alcott. I did discover that Kate Alcott is a pen name which makes the authoress (or author, I suppose) more awesome. It’s about the sinking of the Titanic and this time, I felt more secure in the possibilities of a happy love story because it literally mentioned a ‘rough-hewn sailor’ in the liner notes. or whatever. Are Liner notes for cd’s? Normally, i understand that not all stories are happy, but i wanted a light book! I was specifically looking for a happy romance!!!! That’s all. I will not resort to reading a bodice-wripper because there’s no plot.I wanted good, entertaining, reading with a love story!!!! One that ended happily. That’s all and no I am not unaware of the massive double entendres that are in this post. Wow that sentence alone just sounds wrong.

It was a very good book because it was obvious there was a lot of research going on etc. The dressmaking part had to do with a servant who becomes maid to Lady Duff Gordon, designer on the Titanic, in order to try and pursue a career as a designer herself. The author is a reporter, I read, and it shows in the writing. She is best when describing people and surroundings. Her dialogue was a little……off beat. But it could be me. Dialogue is my favorite part and usually what I focus on most.

In this story, Tess, dressmaker aspiree, had to choose between this Chicago businessman who is not yet divorced and the rough hewn sailor. Anyone with breath in their body would have picked the sailor. She spent two hundred pages unsure, and nearly broke the sailors heart. AND, once again, instead of a out and out ending, it was all enigmatic and maybe……We will look to the future. Much like the movie Titanic’s ending, actually.

So, yesterday, I bought Park Lane by Frances Osborne. ON the  cover. ON THE COVER, it compares it out and out to Downton Abbey. I was like YES!!! Love story! This will be great. 

I’m only like ten pages into it and it so doesn’t have a happy ending. It doesn’t. It’s going to be moody and unsettled and depressing.

What happened to happy endings? Do they not exist anymore? Maybe part of it has to do with the difficulty of making a convincingly deep love story. People always think you’re characters are somewhat shallow if they have a happy unconflicted love story. I know. I’m one of those people. So, I guess, instead, we get a bunch of moody endings that might be happy or might not be happy. I’d actually prefer and out and out unhappy ending to an unsettled one. Make up your minds! Why can’t people just be happy at the end? Not everyone has to be happy. It can be bittersweet. But why do they have to go look into the distance and not be sure of whether or not things will work out. It’s like if Jane Eyre ended ……wait no, Jane Eyre would be great no matter what happened. It’s like………let me think. ………Persuasion, if it ended when Anne was still thinking that Hottie mc hot pants Frederick Wentworth might be in love with Louisa Musgrove.

Does anyone out there know of a good book with a good happy ending? Please let me know. It’s getting a little sad. I’m tempted to just go read A Farewell to Arms again. Last night I actually watched the Disney movie Anastasia because I was so desperate for happiness.

Help.

Here’s looking at you.

Misc: Random Thoughts Olympic Edition 2!!!!

Posted: August 11, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

So, as the Olympics wind down and all the crazy freaks of athletic nature leave with their perfect bodies and world record times, I’ve thought of a few other random thoughts that you undoubtedly NEED to know about. While I tried to focus on halfway athletic related questions the first time around, this time I’m going apeshit. I’ve given up on trying to be anywhere near sports related.

So, without further a due……adieu? A due? Why did it autocorrect to a due? oh, crap. It’s too early for this.

1. Why does NBC think  it needs to air the most boring bits of the Olympics

NBC has been quite widely critiqued for its handling of the time difference thingy majigy. They have the weirdest people broadcasting and they talk about stupid things. Bob Costas has some really nice suits, though. Like he does have a great stylist. And then last night, it was like HEY! The Olympics are almost over! Let’s go for the candy cane stripped tie and the George Burns glasses. Let’s go WILD!

But why do they air things like water polo over and over and the marathon swim. I like the marathon swim and it was really impressive but they just kept swimming. And swimming. I thought like it was a replay for a few minutes before realizing that it was just another lap. I love boxing. And an American girl won one of the boxing golds! I didn’t see hide nor hair of her. Also, why don’t like big boxing guys ever compete in the Olympics. Obviously, I don’t understand anything about how boxing works except the parts where they beat each other up for a while until one guy gives up. Why don’t the big guys compete though? Like Manny Pacqiaou. That’s so not how you spell it.

Rock. Rock. You wanna go to the ‘lympics?
Also, yes, i know that Rocky Balboa is fictional.

2. What’s up with the Bathing Suits?

Well, what’s up with your bathing suits, ladies? How come there are so many different cuts of the bikini line? Why Why Why? Why? Why are some like wifebeaters around the neck and then have this ridiculous high cut on the bottom? Why do the volleyball people wear bathing suits at all? There’s not any water nearby. And they have these weird tops too! And synchronized swimming has all those……..weird suits. Like, major wedgie inducing.

I would totally try and play volleyball if that outfit wasn’t required.

Ummm, seriously? Seriously?

And as women, we’re not all going to be cut out of stone like Ryan Lochte. We don’t all have perfect perfect shapes. That doesn’t mean we’re not in shape. But if you’re a swimmer, and you don’t look absolutely perfect, like that Australian swimmer, people claim you’re out of shape.

3. On That Subject, What is in the Chlorine?

Whoever invented the speedo: thank you. Thank you so much.

How come pretty much EVERY  man who gets in the olympic pool could double as an Abercrombie model? How come? Don’t they have enough. They’re like the fastest swimmers, the most successful swimmers, in the world! And they probably have women falling all over them. I would probably go into shock if I came face to face with that. And then I would just fall because my knees would cease to work. And they’re all determined and focused and ready to Go!!!  This is why me and my friends went to watch on the only plasma screen around us.

We had our own contest. While the olympic judges were more concerned with how many butterfly kicks there are in the kick out and how superhuman Michael Phelps’ wingspan is (for the twenty millionth time) , we gave awards for Best Abs, Best Ass, Best Arms. The three A’s. You know. And well, there were other awards…….too. But you know.

 

4. If I Had To Train For Track and Field, I Would Be Training With the Jamaicans.

The Jamaicans are like the fastest people in the world. They just throw down when they show up. If I were to race and I saw Jamaicans, I would want like a head start. Or Something. I’m pretty sure Usain Bolt could carry me on his back and still win.

They are also the coolest, chillest, most fun team in the Olympics by far. THey just look like they have so much fun! I want to go train with them just to go have fun. Seriously. Shelley-Ann Fraser-Price is great! I love her. And Usain Bolt. I love him.

It’s like they’re just having a party. At the mofo-ing olympics!!!!

They stopped Usain Bolt from bringing in a jump rope, basically because the British security team has been watching too much James Bond, and Usain Bolt told the press that he was unhappy he couldn’t bring his ‘skipping rope’ in with him. And he still sounded boss. The man is not afraid to say ‘skipping rope’.

 

 

5. Our Nails Done, Our Hairs Did!

They had great nail polish throughout the Olympic games. I remember particularly liking Dana Volmer’s. That’s one thing that sucks about piano. You can’t really wear nail polish. If I ever become famous, I will wear nail polish to my concerts. I’ll just be cool like that.

But, I was most impressed with Olympic track and field hair. Ladies, you had it together! I was, first of all, surprised that people could run with their hair down. That would get in my eyes and I’d trip and be disqualified and that would just not be good. But, I guess if you’re an  Olympic runner, you can deal with stuff like that. There were braids and hair clips and one amazing shiny sparkly (yes, I think I was a magpie in another life) hairband courtesy of Shelly-Ann Fraser Pryce. Here are some pictures to show you:

Lashinda Demus with really cool braids. Those look like crap when I do it.

And she’s got a braid! It’s all two-tone and beautiful. And I really like her earrings 🙂

Okay this one isn’t the one with the sparkly hairband. BUt it’s still tots adorable.

 

Here’s looking at you

 

Beards: Too Marvelous for Words

Posted: August 10, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Uncategorized | Leave a comment

I love this blog A Confederacy of Spinsters. And I particularly love Grace. She’s awesome. Especially because she’s called Grace. And I’m called Grace. And we both, apparently, have similar fascination with beards. 🙂

A Confederacy of Spinsters

Men of the world, we need to talk. Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing. Everywhere I go, men are sporting more and more facial hair. Beards, goatees, and moustaches are running amok.

I love it.

Or, rather, my ovaries love it. Not so much the moustaches, as those skew a little 1970s creepster for my taste, but the beards. Good Lord, thebeards. There’s something about a short, well-groomed beard that makes me more excited than Jessie Spano on caffeine pills. They’re right up there with British accents and three-piece suits on the list of Things That Make Grace Swoon.

Ryan Gosling, who doesn’t have a British accent, but is wearing a three-piece suit and sporting a beard. Swoon.

So, what is it about beards, exactly? We’re not supposed to like them. According to a study that made the rounds a few months ago, women perceive…

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Misc: The Vile Interloper? Or not?

Posted: August 7, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Humor, Miscellaneous, personal | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cuz this is like totally non-threatening. There’s a creepy gargoyle perched on her stomach. All’s fine here.

Okay, so I’ve got a situation going on here. There’s like a code…something really menacing. Like blue or red or black or deep dark colors of death. It’s got to do with……shudder……the opposite sex. Dead God save us all!!! AAAA!!!!!It’s got to do with Men and Women and relationships and stuff like that. It’s a scary story. This is like one your grandkids will tell you about. Like the big one.

I’ve got a friend. Let’s call her. TotallyIrresistible. And, about a month or two ago, we were out this thing. Not a party. Like just a gathering thing where there was a crowd and people were talking and having fun. You know. Like a party but not. It was not a formal, ‘this is a party’ party. It was a thing where both men and women were together.

Okay, everyone with me? Totally  normal, right? We get it? Good? Good! you all yell excitedly. Tell us more, Grace.

You like chips? Hey, I like chips too!
as an aside, Mr. Darcy!!!! Acck. I need to watch that movie again. I’m Darcy deprived.

So, she goes and we’re hanging out and talking and all the sudden BAM! Here’s this dude. And let me tell you, he is stacked. Can you say that? Can guys be stacked? I know girls can be stacked? Is it weird to say a guy is stacked? oh, well. He is. was. Well, he still is, but…….I’m getting ahead of myself.

Enter man stage right. We’ll call him StackedDude. My invention, could you tell? Well, StackedDude catches sight of TotallyIrresistible and throws down some serious “how you doin’?” eyes. Like legit. I look at TotallyIrresistible and she is not adverse to the attention of this gentleman caller. She keeps asking me if he’s looking as we go about our business and he is.

So, eventually push comes to shove and FINALLY StackedDude comes over to talk to TotallyIrresistible. I act as the chaperon/middle aged aunt/Maggie Smith in A Room With a View except less jumpy. More cool, suave. More Bond Girl. More Vesper Lynd. Just to go off on a tangent for a second, why does it take guys so long to come talk to us women? Us dames? Us Broads? There was like a two hour difference between the time that they made eye contact and the time he came over to say hi. When did men lose all their hutzpah?

Hey! You there. You, Charming. I’m tawlkin’ to you! You have no hutzpah anymore! Why don’t you have any hutzpah? Come back and talk to me after you grow a pair.

Anyways, hutzpah less StackedDude and TotallyIrresistible are flying sparks like…..spark flying objects. like Flint and dry wood? That sounds good. It’s going great. For the next two weeks, they are like perfect. I’m sitting there mentally picturing the hideous bridesmaid gown I’m going to have to wear at their totally gooey awful happy wedding. TotallyIrresistible looks great. StackedDude is on his game. It’s like the modern version of Rose Dewitt Buchater or however you spell it and Jack Dawson. It’s love.

No, I’m not being over the top because I’m just cynical and allergic to mush. It really was like that.

Example:

TotallyIrresistible: “You like this sweater I’m wearing? I love it. Right? Yeah. It’s made in Iceland.”

StackedDude: “I speak Icelandic!”

TotallyIrresistible: Oh my gosh! What a coincidence!

StackedDude: We should go to Iceland together!

TotallyIrresistible: Yes. We could get matching sweaters!!

StackedDude: Yes!

So, things are all cheery. In fact, next week we’re going to this other thing and StackedDude is going to be there and TotallyIrresistible is excited. It’s going to be like the moment where they finally make it official or just start humping each other over the appetizers. Whatever. Same difference. I agree to go along just to be a witness so I can be the crazy aunt that set them up for when they have ridiculously attractive children.

TotallyIrresistible it really totally irresistible. She’s beautiful. I’m not kidding. If I were a lesbian I would probably go there…..sorry TotallyIrresistible. It was going to come up at some point. Now you know. This does not mean that you can now borrow that shirt of mine you like. Don’t even think about it. Any guy would be SO lucky to end up with TotallyIrresistible.

But! When StackedDude shows up, he’s not alone. Oh, no. He’s not alone by any means. He’s got a smile on bigger than his you know what and he’s so not alone. He’s walking with a six foot tall Blonde giant who is miraculously petite and has delicate little perfect features. She’s balancing effortlessly on million dollar stripper shoes.

He pretty much showed up with this on his arm. In that outfit.

And, much as I love TotallyIrresistible, even I was like: oh well. Well played. It was like Thank you for playing TotallyIrresistible you have not made it to the next round. Oh, isn’t that sad?

TotallyIrresistible was devastated.

I was pissed off.

So, my question is this: is StackedDude a vile interloper, carelessly leading TotallyIrresistible on with no thought to compassion or for her feelings? He turned from this really great guy to 75% a douchebag just with that date he brought. You know he doesn’t like her for her great personality. It was just so shallow of him. And unimaginative. I’m not saying beautiful women are objects or aren’t just as good as us mortals but it’s not really fair, is it? Why wasn’t she off throwing herself at like Leonardo diCaprio? She actually mentioned how hard it is to find a reliable shea butter face cleanser when you have to start with a all organic chemical peel.

Or is it just miscommunication?

Am I allowed to go over and act as TotallyIrresistible’s champion and cuss this boy out and make him floss with those thongs his girlfriend wears for leading my friend on? It was too overt to not be a bad thing. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what she thought and didn’t like that she thought that.

It wasn’t that.

So, is he a vile douchebag interloper or not? let me know. Has this ever happened to you? How did you handle it? If you’re a guy has this ever happened to you? It seems odd that a girl would do this, but she might, I suppose.

Me and TotallyIrresistible will be watching Jane Austen marathons while we eat ourselves into oblivion.

Here’s Looking At You

Writing: Who are we today?

Posted: August 5, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Books, personal, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

When I have fears that I may cease to be.

Okay, so Keats died last night. It wasn’t fun. I finished reading Andrew Motion’s biography of Keats. He was alone and miserable and stuck on some awful diet that only allowed for bread and anchovies. Anyone who was worth their salt as a doctor should have known that this is not the breakfast of champions. I don’t care how inferior your technology is. You don’t starve a man. Plus, bleeding him. Who ever thought that the cure for all ailments would be to stick some leeches on a body and suck out the blood from the man’s body? What’s wrong with those people.

He was literally starving and he also had like no lungs left and he was separated from the love of his life and he had no money and he couldn’t write or read or go outside and, since he trained to be a surgeon, he knew exactly what was happening to his body and when it was going to happen. He was also completely sure he was a failure as a writer. The similarities to my current circumstances is somewhat unavoidable. I’m not dying or starving….although I have had a cough lately. Oh, crap. But I am pretty much a failure as a writer thus far.Oh crap. I just coughed.

I’m dying.

I’m consumptive.

Shit.

Jerry!! I’m consumptive!!!! Jerry. I’m telling you jerry.

One of the greatest insights we have into John Keats’ life and his personality is his letters. His letters are some of the best descriptions of his life and what he felt and how he lived. His love letters to Fanny Brawne, while considered obscenely feminine and whiny by some, are some of the most honest intense letters he ever wrote. They have pretty much convinced me that he’s the love of my life. He might be dead but still……..It’s a long distance relationship.

I left this big so you can appreciate the writing and also maybe read parts of it.

I was thinking about all his writing and everything that we learn from what he says about his struggle with writing and his struggle with women and self-identity. To me, it is such a great gift, to write a good letter. The sheer number of letters he wrote is astounding to me, but then again it was the only mode of communication he had if he wanted to talk to anyone.

Then, I started to wonder about our generation. Since the telephone and the computer and all these great technological advances are at our fingertips, we don’t write letters hardly anymore. I used to try and write letters but no one ever responded. I’d write a long letter and seal it with this cool letter sealing wax and write with my ink pen (yeah, I’m a little weird) and then I’d get a text:

Cool letter.

It’s sad to think that we might not leave such valuable insights behind. For example, Clara Schumann the great female (woo!) pianist and Johannes Brahms were long believed to have had a love affair while her husband and composer Robert was off going cray cray. The big deal about that is that we don’t actually know what went on with Clara and Johannes because they burned their letters to each other, mostly. Everyone wishes they hadn’t because we lose such a great a story and insight into the life of such great composers etc.

So, what do we have? We don’t have anything like letters to record our lives by. Back when the so called Cockney School was in full swing, writing and reading was the biggest tool to bettering writing ability and Intelligence. They held competitions on who could write the better poem in a given amount of time. They were like a think tank of poetry and art and Beauty. The world became their schoolroom. To hear them discuss music and literature and art and politics in their letters is amazing. The ease with which they switch from one to the other is incredible and the way they manage to transcend from one to the other makes me catch my breath. Look at ‘Ode to a Grecian Urn’. Keats takes an urn and involves Greek mythology and politics and his own personal struggles with old and new and death and life and success and failure. All in one little poem.

When I asked myself what my generation had to offer to continue this tradition, the pessimist in me immediately said Nothing! We Have nothing! our generation is too preoccupied with stupid material things to ever be as great as Keats and his generation was. And then I thought about Midnight in Paris and how Owen Wilson wanted to back to the twenties and whoever Marion Cotillard played wanted to back  up to the Belle Epoque.

Basically, I decided that I am not quite sure I have quite perfected time travel so I’m stuck here. Would I rather be in the eighteenth century writing letters and shamelessly pushing that tart Fanny out of the way so I could selflessly nurse Keats back to health so we could get married and magically write wonderful music and poems and plays and etc forever and ever? Hell to the mofo yes. Do I realize that won’t happen? Yes.

What I have is the internet. Eventually, when people die, they will put together collections of their emails and make them into an e book and people will read them on their kindles and text each other about them. Yuck. But, the internet is powerful. Actually, instead of being limited, we should be unlimited. We can communicate with anyone in anyplace at anytime. It is possible for us to create our own Cockney School right from our couches as we watch Murray kill Federer in our pajamas.

This blog and all blogs is also a way of leaving a sign to posterity. Not that posterity would ever be concerned with my posterior. This revelation gives me a little more desire to persevere to write and keep this blog up. It seems hard to believe that Keats could ever be as doubtful as I am now, but it must be true. He too knew what it felt like to be cheated by Fame. Especially since Shelley and Byron ran around complaining and shagging everything that moved while effortlessly making money and being happy no matter what.

Here’s looking at you

 

Movies I LOVE: Moonstruck

Posted: August 4, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Humor, Miscellaneous, movie, personal | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Moonstruck is one of those movies. It’s one of those movies you never particularly feel like watching and then when you watch it you’re astounded at how much you like it. No matter how many times I watch that movie I laugh out loud. It’s hilarious and touching. Actually, when I think about it, it’s the kind of ensemble writing I aspire to in my novel. Not that I’m anywhere close to that kind of writing.

This movie should always be watched while eating a huge italian dinner. Just fyi.

I almost put a spoiler above this post in case anyone is like waiting for a post-apocalptic world so they can watch this movie on their third date with an alien from Pluto but then I said screw em. Moonstruck starts out with the widow Loretta Castorini getting engaged to a total helpless man child Johnny Cammareri who then immediately leaves for Sicily to visit his dying mother. He makes sure Loretta promises to go visit his brother who has hated him for the past five years.

A lot of this movie is lost on people who are not Italian or part of Italian families. I am Italian on my dad’s side. Actually, I probably think I’m a lot more Italian than I am because I’m like three quarters Irish on my mom’s side or something. My dad’s family doesn’t live around here and my grandparents on his side are pretty dead so I don’t really even have the experience of being in a large Italian family. I’m an honorary Italian kinda. But I cook really good Italian. I totally count.

Who wants sixth helpings??? Everyone!!!!

Whoever wrote the script to this movie must be Italian. They just understand all the little quirks and traditions of being Italian. The casting is also pretty perfect. And, on that, I would like to say for those of you who looked at the cast and said ‘weird’, don’t judge. I’m not a Cher fan. She’s fantastic in this movie. I’m not really a Nicolas Cage fan. He’s perfect in this movie.

Loretta was all happily engaged to Johnny when she goes to see his brother Ronnie (Nicolas Cage) and totally sees she’s  marrying the wrong brother. I mean, come on. He yells at her over bread and she makes him dinner, she calls him a wolf, and he makes passionate love to her after throwing a table.

Proof that not every man is deathly afraid of commitment.

This was back when Nic Cage actually had some……more (he does still have some) hair and was really actually sorta kinda……hot. Legit. He only has one hand in this movie and he’s hot. He’s really hot. And he is a man of action.

You know how people are like afraid to commit and doubt themselves? Guess how long it takes Ronny to propose…….Think about it. A month? That’s nothing. It takes him TWO DAMN DAYS!!!!!!!!!! That is a man who is not afraid to go for what he wants. Ronnie is one of my favorite characters in this movie because he’s got great monologues and he’s just so damn awesome. He actually orders her to get in his bed. Amen, brother. I love the monologue about love too.

And I was thinking about that. As made famous by the classic piece of film Bridget Jones’ Diary, how many marriages end in divorce, one in two or one in three?

One in three says the undeniably luscious Mark Darcy.

AAccording to most Singletons and to most cynical people today, marriage is less than halfway successful. It might possibly end in divorce anyways. So, if that is the case, why don’t people just go for it? Yeah, I’m not sure if this will work, but no one is so lets get married. More people should be like Ronnie Cammareri. He is in love with Loretta and he is not afraid to go for it. If you think that you’ve met the love of your life, why wait for four years to make sure you’re compatible. It’s a crapshoot anyways.

Finally, or almost finally, the music is perfectly suited to the movie. It’s italian but it’s not begging to be played while you eat spaghetti. This song is called Old Man Mazurka which just makes it even cooler. The superstitious side to this movie also compliments the music and the storyline.

So, go watch Moonstruck. It’s one of those movies you won’t think will be that good. But it is. Oh, and did I mention that Ronnie immediately meets Loretta, falls in love with her, and asks her to the opera with in twenty-four hours? No wonder he’s pretty much perfect.

To end, here is an example of the great dialogue and heart-warming charm of this movie. Go watch it! (and eat some spaghetti while you do. And Tiramisu. And Sausage. And bruschetta. And biscotti. With wine. Lots of wine.)

Here’s looking at you.

Writing: More Query Mania. Feel like critiquing?

Posted: August 2, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Books, Humor, personal, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Well, something happened to the first part of this post. I will try and repost it.

hmmm, so anyways I was talking about how this Query is driving me crazy. Yesterday, it sent me to all time new lows. I was looking over style and fashion magazines online when I came across Vogue’s wedding guide. I have decided that if I mushed country wedding, rebel wedding, and gypsy wedding, I’d have the perfect wedding ever. Of course, I’m not actually even dating anyone but I mean, why not look at all the wedding stuff in the hope that one day……..yeah, the feminist in me has pretty much died since beginning the last edit of this book .She might be dead, I can’t tell. I’m too busy looking at engagement rings at the moment.

It also goes to show that my delusion has indeed reached epic proportions because even when I got to Jlo’s famous pink diamond and Kim Kardashian’s ring and all the mad expensive huge stones, I was still like ‘yeah, my husband will be able to get one a little bit bigger. And with more diamonds.” I think it’s because all of them have this huge diamond in the middle and then this teeny teeny band around them. It BOTHERS me. It doesn’t even out. And it wouldn’t match with the wedding ring. Yeah, it’s that bad, people.

Eh, I’ve seen bigger.

But, enough of Vera Wang’s totally amazing black wedding dresses. They are really great though. I NEED one. But I never understood why you get a wedding dress you only wear once, anyways. Why? It should be like your favorite dress that you want to wear over and over.

Serious dress lust. Serious.

I have written a rough draft query! Cheers for Grace. It’s pretty awful but I live in hope. After reading all that stuff about how many words your book should have, I read some stuff written by agents who said they threw out books that were over a certain word count. Comforting, agents. Really comforting. I’ve got too many words by pretty much every definition of a mainstream first novel. But, upon further research, I realized that most of the books I read are over the normal word count of a mainstream first novel. So, what does that mean?

I’m trying not to sweat it. If they like it, they like it.

I did get rid of  lot in the editing room (for the editing room, I literally just sit at a different chair at my dining room table. Nifty, I know). Lost about thirty pages and one character storyline. It was weird because I consistently lost pages but I did not loose words. I think I actually had more words and less pages at one point. It was weird.

Oh, dearest, I’ve made a mistake……..I don’t have an eraser. That doth trouble me. I need more lambskin! Someone go slay a lamb.

My story is an ensemble story so it essentially has three main families that have story lines. So, it does make it harder to squeeze it into 60,000 words. It is set in a small small town and that led to another problem. When I get up, I do the same thing everyday. Everyone kinda has habits and a schedule. You see the same things everyday, pretty much. So, when I went to describe the scenery, in my head it was exactly the same as the last scene because they were in the same town. I remember when I went through to edit, I thought one part needed a description of where the characters were. I wrote something in and then in the next chapter, I saw that I had already written the SAME EXACT DESCRIPTION. Talk about freaky. At least I’m consistent.

I will post my query below so that you can all see a little bit of what I started with. It’s a very rough draft. Actually, I’d love critiques or ideas, complaints etc. In fact, if you want I can look over something of yours, fellow writers, if you want in return. And even if you’re not writers. All comments welcome!!!

QUERY OF QUEER DELIGHT!!!:

Sometimes, Martin Flynn wondered how his wife could be so troublesome now that she was dead. She’d never been this much trouble when she’d been alive.

The year begins with Angela Flynn’s funeral. It ends with a mass exodus that does serious damage to the town’s already small population. Her family struggles to pick up the pieces of their life without her guiding hand. Her husband and daughter cope by not coping and her mother, Helen, continually appears at Flynn house with unwelcome cookies and suggestions for beach yoga and juice cleanses. The Flynn family is torn apart as they slowly begin to realize that Angela was really all that held them together.

At the same time, Gloria Manson discovers that her husband is cheating on her. With her daughter’s best friend. Forced to be more than her designer shoes and carefully constructed social schedule suggests, Gloria tries to beat a lawyer at his own game. Just as she begins to move on from the shock, Gloria finds out just how deep her husband has dug his grave and gives up taking the high road and starts searching for a shovel to bury him with.

Faye and Daniel Winston are forced to adapt quickly when their grandson arrives unexpectedly from Italy, armed with a sketchpad and an oh-so tortured soul on his sleeve. His rocky relationship with his father leads to an ultimatum, which forces the profligate Matteo Winston to finally put his money where his mouth is. His grandparents must form new alliances after their grandson wins them, and most of the female inhabitants of the town, over with his peculiar charm and lopsided sense of humor.

The Ballad of Angela Flynn is a literary/mainstream fiction novel that focuses on family drama and everything in between. Romance, conflict, and humor are at the heart of this small coastal town faced with a season of sea-change that won’t be easily be forgotten. The Ballad of Angela Flynn is 108,000 words long and the manuscript is available upon request. Thank you in advance for your time and consideration.

Here’s Looking at You

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