A Referral

Lawyerish wants to hear about your worst (or most hilarious) date. So please go to her site and share your story. You do not know how much I love this kind of thing. If you guys leave her some good comments, I promise to share the humiliating things that I will inevitably say and do during interview season (starting next week, I think) this year.

Words Cannot Explain

Can I tell you how much I love this little spray bottle that I found in my mother-in-law's kitchen?

Can anyone explain how this label might be helpful? I love my mother-in-law, but there are just some things I'll never understand.

Who's the Boss

I had to walk through the middle of this drinks and hors d'ouevres thing going on today in the middle of a public space downtown. Most people looked pretty normal, but one woman startled me. She was probably in her early thirties, but it was hard to tell because all I could see was her glasses. Because she looked like this:

She was wearing seriously huge Angela Bower glasses. It was like a really bad costume. I don't get the whole dressing ironically thing (at least I hope that's what she was doing). She just looked like a fool.

But anyway, I went to the eye doctor today. I am going back to contacts for most days, but I need to get new glasses too because my old prescription is just not cutting it. I already got contacts with the correct prescription, and it is scary how much better I can see now. Also, I learned that I do not have very good depth perception. Which explains why I am always running into door jambs. And is also a new good excuse for why I am bad at sports. I'm not slow and uncoordinated; I just have bad depth perception! Yes, that is what I tell myself.

So my new eye doctor is super cool, and I love him in a non-romantic eye doctor kind of way. When I was checking out frames, I mentioned that I would like to have H and a friend or two see how I look in them because I am not a good judge of these things, so the glasses-selling lady said, "Let's pick out a few that look the best on you, and you can take them home with you to try out. Just bring them back when you come in to pick up your contacts." Dude! I get to test drive my glasses! So here they are. Which pair do you prefer?

[Option 1]
[Option 2]
[Option 3]

Tidbits

How I Rate Movies

Fantastic: Knocked Up, The Sound of Music, The Bourne Identity, Elf
Great: Superbad, Clueless, Talladega Nights
Good: 40 Year Old Virgin, Mallrats, Anchorman
Eh: American Pie
Horrible, Do Not Go See This: Wedding Crashers, Two and a Half Men*

*I had to throw this in, so great is my vendetta against this show.


Your Craziness Inspires Me

Laurie wrote recently that she is such a worrier, she used to make sure her (now ex-)husband knew what pictures he should use in case she went missing or died. And I instantly thought of the "run-away bride." Remember? When she went missing, her family supplied the craziest, googley-eyed photo of her to the media. I cannot let that happen to me!

So I asked H if he needed a picture of me for a Missing poster or for my obituary, what would he use? And he said this:
[me holding a box of Peeps while making a face of disgust]

Ummm... no. He seriously loves that picture and even had it as his screensaver at work for a while, but do I want that picture all over CNN? No. So he suggested this:
[a close-up of me looking super-smiley]

I admit it is better, but I don't know why H can't select a normal picture, like this one of my uncle and me.
[picture of my uncle and me]

So I asked H what picture he wanted if he goes missing or dies. Without even pausing, he said, "My drunk David Hasselhoff picture!"
[picture of a shirtless H eating a hamburger while lying on the floor]

A Day at the Movies

I saw Superbad this afternoon.

Can I start out by sharing my confusion about a certain preview? Thanks. When H and I went with our 12-year-old niece and 9-year-old nephew (and their dad, H's brother) to The Simpsons Movie, rated PG-13, one of the previews shown beforehand was for Good Luck Chuck. The premise of the movie, according to this preview, is that if Dane Cook sleeps with a woman, she will marry the next guy she sleeps with. So women are lining up to sleep with Dane Cook because they know that the next guy after Dane will be their husband. Cut to a montage of sex scenes. Really explicit sex scenes. Then Dane meets Jessica Alba and falls in love. He really, really wants to sleep with her but knows that if he does, they'll break up and she'll marry someone else. Cut to several scenes of Dane and Jessica almost having sex. Cut to me trying to cover my nephew's eyes and ears because OH MY GOD.

So we go to Superbad, rated R, and there is also a preview for Good Luck Chuck. Except in this preview, the premise of the movie is that Dane and Jessica are dating, but Jessica has extremely bad luck. Cut to a montage of wacky accidents where Jessica keeps accidentally hurting Dane. The end. Why show the sexually explicit preview before The Simpsons, a CARTOON movie, but then show a light romantic comedy preview before Superbad, a raunchy movie about boys trying to get laid? I do not understand.

P.S. Good Luck Chuck does not look good, based on either preview.

So, anyway, Superbad. It was good. Not as good as Knocked Up, but still funny. I think I would like this movie better if I were a boy or liked weiner jokes more, but since I am not and do not, I would give this movie 3 out of 5 stars.

Blacation

It is time for a blog vacation. I will be back on Saturday or Sunday.

The Mean Stuff Is Just More Interesting

As I have mentioned previously, my 10 year high school reunion is coming up soon. I am not going. But this summer I have discovered some facts about my former classmates that I have shared with H. Stupid stuff like that there are several people from my class who married other people from my class. And when I share these delightful tidbits with H, he says things like, "You sure are obsessed with this reunion considering that you are pretending you don't care about it at all." It isn't that I don't care. Like I've already said, it's that I don't have any desire to see most of the people who I think will attend the reunion. But I do want to know what they are up to these days so that I can mock them (or think they are cool, but that is not as fun) from a distance.

The reunion organizers sent out an evite to everyone. Many of the people who responded that they weren't going to attend the reunion left little notes saying why they weren't going to attend, like they had a wedding or a business conference to attend that weekend. Double G (my high school best friend, for those of you just tuning in) responded that she would be on vacation in Greece and Turkey. Which is true. But which is also code for, "Suck it, losers." Double G and I find this hilarious. Not that we're bitter. But I think, like most people, there are a few people to whom we would like to point out that we are much more successful than them. Specifically, Lindsey, Erin, and Kari: my two choir nemeses and this one girl who was just the meanest person I've ever met (although I can't remember her ever being mean to me).

Anyway, this is all just an introduction for the questionnaire that I am stealing from Stefanie, since my class doesn't (unfortunately) have a questionnaire.

Name: -R-

Married?
_X_ Yes
___ No

If yes, name of spouse: H. You may have heard of him, since he is an internet celebrity.

Number of years married: Almost 2.

Children?
___ Yes
_X_ No thanks.

Occupation(s): Law stuff that you wouldn't understand.

Hobbies: Starting to knit a baby blanket that is nowhere near finished despite the fact that the baby is approaching 6 months old; reading books by Maeve Binchy.

Future Plans: Reading your questionnaire responses and judging you.

Most Memorable Moment from High School: I can either write something really sincere but not interesting to the internet or something that makes me sound supremely bitter, even though I'm not. Or I could write that it was the time when I snuck out for lunch my junior year, and when I came back, the security guard was blocking the doors. And I started trying to think of a senior that I could pretend to be and say that I had forgotten my i.d.(since only seniors were allowed to go off campus for lunch), and the only senior I could think of was Parul, this Indian girl. I was pretty sure the guard was not going to buy that I was Indian. But then the security guard just said hi and held the door open for my friends and me.

Biggest Accomplishment Since Graduation: Getting season tickets to Husker football games!!!!! Woooo!!!! Oh wait, that's not me; that is what the rest of my class will write.

Most Embarrassing Moment in High School: Seriously? This question is just cruel. I wasn't embarrassed at the time, but looking back, my most embarrassing moment is probably wearing this purple shirt on which I wrote something lame with puffy paint. I can't remember what it said, but I remember that it was mortifying. Or crying when I was supposed to give a speech at this senior banquet. Ok, it was a debate team banquet. Yeah.

One Thing That Your Classmates Do Not Know About You: My husband could beat you up.

Would you be interested in working with the 20th year reunion committee?
___ Yes
___ No
_x_ Hell no.

This Post Brought To You By Coffee Plus Not Enough Sleep

When I am upset about something (which I am not right now, I was just thinking about this on my drive home from the bus stop), I deal with my sadness or anger or other feelings by talking about the upsetting thing. So when I got super smoldering angry with H about something a while ago, I let myself steam about it for a while, and when I didn't start feeling better about the situation, I called Double G (my best friend from high school) and said, "Aaa! I am so pissed off about this! Blah blah blah!" And then I felt a lot better. But sometimes, talking about a situation once does not make me feel better. I have to talk about it 50 times. Frequently, once I feel better, I forget all about it. And then a friend will say, "Hey, remember when that really bad thing happened and you were so pissed and talked about it for a week?" And I will have no idea what they are talking about. That happens to me more frequently than you would think. Well, more frequently than I would think it would happen. Or maybe I am just losing my damn mind [which certainly seems like the case after re-reading this post].

So Double G is probably my best friend (besides H), even though I don't talk to her that often. But I am not sure that I am her best friend. She has a few really close friends from college who are all awesome women, and I think they are better at staying in touch with Double G than I am. (I kind of suck at regular communication right now. I am not even a good e-mailer, which used to be my strong point. I was an awesome e-mailer.) I have one really close friend from college who would be the other candidate for my best friend, but I think I am probably more open with Double G. Anyway, the point of this is that it doesn't bother me if we are not mutual best friends. My best friend in law school (besides H) was this guy from the bad date story. I know without a doubt that I was not his best friend in law school, but it never bothered me. And now he lives near me, and I think that (besides his girlfriend) I am probably his best friend in Minnesota, and yet, he is not mine. And it's ok! I am probably the only adult who even thinks about things like this, but that didn't bother me until just now when I typed this all out, and now I look like some weirdo who keeps best friend tallies or something. I don't. This is just a random observation. That I feel the need to write out and publish on the internet.

The thinking about best friends leads me to thinking about mean girls. I have read other female bloggers write posts referring to mean girls who picked on them. I don't think I've ever dealt with that. Not that I was never made fun of in my whole life. Of course I was. But the only example I can think of is that one time in first grade, my pants were riding really low when I was sitting in the cafeteria, and a group of other first graders saw my butt and pointed at me and laughed. But I just pulled up my pants and pretended I wasn't embarrassed. And one time in eighth grade, I heard these three girls I didn't like talking about me behind my back, and they were saying that I thought I was smarter than everyone. It hurt my feelings, but it was probably true. I probably did think I was smarter than everyone. I was certainly smarter than them. Ah, it is funny how I still feel bitchy about those girls 15 years later. But I never had a group of mean girls pick on me, and I never have had any fears of being friends with girls, about which there was an interesting discussion on Jonniker's blog.

In case the rest of this post was not long and random enough, can I tell you that I am kind of freaking out because I got a postcard in the mail offering me a free DVD about breastfeeding? Why does anyone think I would need such a DVD? Shouldn't I have a baby or something first? Or even be pregnant? Did the breastfeeding people just send this postcard to all women between the ages of 18 and 55? Is this some kind of breastfeeding DVD scam to which I am not hip?

Next Year: Nunchucks and Fireworks

My nephew's eighth birthday was a few weeks ago. H was going to visit his brother (the nephew's dad) the weekend before the nephew's birthday, so H said he would stop on the way and pick up a birthday present. This seemed like a good idea.

The next week, I got a call from my brother-in-law. H had bought our nephew a video game, which I already knew about. What H had failed to mention was that the video game in question was Resident Evil 4. My brother-in-law hadn't really paid any attention to the video game until my nephew started playing it and my brother-in-law noticed that the point of the game was to kill people. With chainsaws.

"H!" I said. "I can't believe you thought Resident Evil 4 was an ok game to give an eight-year-old!"

H laughed. "I just remembered it being a cool game. I didn't think about the killing. And the chainsaws. And the cursing."

As you may have guessed, the nephew LOVED the game and thought H was super cool for giving it to him. My brother-in-law and his wife looked like the mean ones for not letting him play with the game.

Note to self: The status of best aunt and uncle has been retained. Also, do not let H buy presents by himself ever again.

P.S. We exchanged Resident Evil 4 for a Lego Star Wars video game. It seemed to go over well with parents and nephew alike.

You Must Admit: I Am One Good-Looking Astronaut

I can't stop looking up news about the bridge collapsing. I work relatively close to where the bridge was, and I kept hearing sirens outside my office building throughout the day. I wonder whether that always happened, and I just blocked it out before. I am so lucky in that my friends and family and coworkers are all safe, but I read about the people who weren't so lucky, and I tear up. At the same time that I am seeking new information about the bridge, I am so tired of the story. I want to be sad but move on. But I just feel unsettled.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just being dramatic. Or maybe I am just so tired that I can't really figure things out.

Of course, normal stuff is still happening. H finally got his BOO-URNS shirt. It is adorable. And I took a certain bus the other day that is supposed to make one stop, but the bus driver forgot to stop, so we had to turn around and go back, which was wildly exciting. And he (the bus driver) narrated the whole thing
on the bus PA system, which made me want to punch him. (Hi, crazy mood swings of sleep deprivation! Glad to see you're still around!)

I have no ending for this post, so please do enjoy the following silly photos.

H and I are glued to the TV tonight watching coverage of the interstate bridge collapse that took place during rush hour over the Mississippi River in Minneapolis. Right now, it seems like all our friends and family are ok. I hope it stays that way.