Being An Adult Can Be Fun!

Based upon an early morning visit to the internist, B. and I are developing a new song, tentatively titled "Poop On A Paper Plate (Plastic Spoon Remix)".

Sample lyric: "No I don't wanna go back in, don't wanna go back in, don't wanna go back in that bathroom".

This will be a follow-up to our previous hit, "Downwind At Urine Park".

Trust me, it's going to sweep the nation.

The Definition of 'Healthy' Is Broad

Yesterday morning, towards the end of an exercise class at New York Sports Club, the instructor told us to "do something good for yourselves today - drink lots of water, take a walk, and eat something healthy!".

My interpretation of that directive was to go to a bar, watch Syracuse basketball, drink beer, and eat chicken wings.

Trifecta!

So it looks like we'll be moving soon. The sublease on our current apartment is ending, and in the midst of negotiating a new lease, our building management decided to raise the rent. It's not a huge amount, but enough to cut off our noses to spite our faces push us to consider other options.

The search is going well - the only thing I fear is that we are entering a perfect storm: wedding/marriage, moving/new home, and starting a new job (for me).

Yay! Stress!

Can We Get An Old Car?

While watching a musical montage in Remember the Titans, The Librarian and I had the following exchange:

TL: "Next time we have to get really psyched up for something, we should wreck a car".
RC: "Um, sure. Like what?
TL: "Your bachelorette party".

Poking The Stick In The Bear Cage

As previously noted (too lazy to link to it, but it's posted somewhere in the blog) B's mom has a limited filter between her thoughts and her words. One part of me admires her directness. Another part just sits back and...wow. No filter.

It is to my discredit that I sometimes deliberately try to get her riled up, and encourage the no-filtering. As I did on Saturday.

B's mom: Are you looking for a new job?
me: Nope. I think I'm just gonna take some time off. Let B support me. Relax a little bit.
B's mom: But he can't support the two of you. Not with the way you live.
me: Well, if we need more money, he can just get a second job.
B's mom: But how will he do comedy?
me: He can just give that up. I mean, what's more important, his comedy career, or keeping me happy?

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B's mom: Are you going to change your name once you're married?
me: [with the most disgusted face I can make] Oh God no. Why would I want a name like that?

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B's mom: If the two of you have kids, what religion will the children be?
me: What we're going to do is ask you and my parents each to come up with a 10 minute presentation about their religion. You can use Powerpoint, pictures, video, etc. We'll choose a winner based on the persuasiveness of the argument.

Reiki

Last night, I attended a very, very introductory reiki training. One of the most interesting things that I learned prompted this exchange:

[ridiculouschick]: apparently you can do it on animals. stewbert - watch out!
[THE LAWYER]: STEWBERT WILL BE CALM AND SEDATED AFTER YOU BEGIN HIS SESSIONS. A WHOLE NEW DOG.
[ridiculouschick]: the thing is with reiki that you need to get permission from the receiver. how do you do that with a dog?
[THE LAWYER]: PERHAPS EVERY TIME HE RELIEVES HIMSELF IN THE HOUSE IT’S HIS WAY OF CONSENTING TO A REIKI SESSION.

Deep, Deep Thoughts

It is ridiculous to come home in a funk because you "suffered" your first lost at trivia night to the bowl cut douchebag who has been waiting to beat you for 5 weeks in a row, and finally did...

*and*

to get in a discussion with your significant other about the merits of an "upper decker".

New Levels of Ridiculous

A few nights ago, B and I found ourselves on the couch, each of us playing Tetris on our cell phones, competing to see who can achieve the highest score.

Of course, he's got an edge because he can play/practice while he's at work, apparently for hours at a time.

I, on the other hand, almost missed my subway stop the other night because I didn't want to end my game. I was at 28,938!!!!

TecmoBowl, 1992

Last night, B finally joined Facebook, so we promptly began to play Scrabulous, which is just about as addicting as Facebook itself.

(As noted previously, it is quasi totally ridiculous to be sitting in the same room with your boyfriend, communicating via computer, but I digress.)

Our game steadily progressed along(he's absolutely kicking my ass) until this afternoon, when our new furniture was delivered unassembled, and there was some additional Passover shopping to be done (The General had demands) and then there's his comedy gig in the Jerz, and he won't be home until much later, thus leaving me at a standstill.

Would it be out of line to call him at the club to demand that he makes his next move?

DOMINATION

Last night - actually got my butt out to Conker Hill for trivia.

Here's what I took away:

- Renewed appreciation for the Damn Yankees, due to a question in the music category and their overall awesomeness
- A nagging and persistent need to look up this painting, also due to a question (but not so much with the awesomeness)
- 2 pints of Guinness, 1 game of Big Buck Hunter
- Admiration for B's random knowledge

oh, and

- A free bottle of premium vodka, because WE WON! (I'm probably much more excited about this than I need to be.)

My New BFF Thinks I'm A Spammer

The Facebook obsession continues unabated (you can play online Scrabble! and find your (now)fat ex-boyfriend from high school!) with one difficulty: this morning, while trying to add another friend, I was ordered to desist. I guess I've made too many requests, and they've shut off that functionality for now.

Even Facebook knows I have a problem.

Fool

Since book club happened to be meeting on April 1, L. and I decided that we would attempt some hijinks (possibly wacky). We giggled over what we would do, and how it would sound, and what to say, and then giggled some more.

The night of, I waited for an appropriate break in the conversation. It was perfect, because someone had just asked me how my vacation to California had been. "Well", I said, "we took a little detour to Vegas..."

I looked around. They were all smiling. Starting to look excited.

"...and got married..."

Exclamations of surprise, and...joy?

"...and we're expecting our first child in November."

Wait, this wasn't right. They were all beaming. Happy for me. Some were starting to get up to give me hugs. L. was laughing so hard that she had her head buried in her lap. I had expected shock and silence...clearly, everyone at book club is waaaaay too nice.

Before I could get any deeper in, I came clean. Which was probably perfect timing, because, if I'd waited any longer, they'd have started organizing a baby shower.

Wiki Wiki Wiki Waaaa

I have a new addiction and, OH GOD NO, it's Pinkberry. I had successfully resisted the craze until Tuesday, and since then, I've stopped each night on my way home to get progressively larger sizes. (To add to the madness, going to the closest Pinkberry necessitates using a slightly farther subway station, with a longer walk home.)

So, my favorite is the green tea flavor but certainly not with any healthy fruit, as pictured above. No, there's some secret not-on-the-menu ingredient called "mochi" that is sometimes described as rice cakes by my new best friends at Pinkberry. I don't know quite what they are (but they are delicious!) and since there is no published information on them, I did a little Internets research.

And found this on Wikipedia:

Mochi is very sticky and somewhat tricky to eat. After each new year, it is reported in the Japanese media how many people die from choking on mochi. The victims are usually elderly.

Awesome. So now I have a new habit which along with being somewhat expensive, could eventually result in death.

I might as well take up smoking again.

The Greatest Invention of Our Time

Seriously. Bud Light and Clamato? Genius.
(Platter O' Fried Food? Not bad either.)

I'm Going With Insanity

So, as of 4 pm, B and I have called each other approximately 37 times to make weird noises, laugh hysterically, and then hang up.

Insanity? You Decide.

That pre-vacation too-little-time-too-much-to-do thing is kicking in, which is resulting in not a whole lot of sleep, which then leads to:

- Me prank calling B at work, making ridiculous noises and hanging up
- B and I laughing hysterically over the concept that we are sleeping in a "monkey bed". (Don't ask, it's a long story involving Tim Gunn and our inability to change our sheets.)
- B pretending to be Tim Gunn (voice, mannerisms) for an entire night
- Exploring how many ways we can use the word "yurt" in a sentence
- Laughing hysterically over that
- Making up conversations that either one of us is having with the dog re: his religious choices

Day 2, Sick

Failing to amuse myself with Gatorade, Cup O' Soup, or any one of our gazillion movie channels, I've chosen to harass the dog:

Isn't He Lovely?

As we speak (uh, write) B is on line, waiting to audition for Last Comic Standing. It's raining, and he's not a happy camper. Literally.

To witness the enthralling live coverage on his blog, send me an email. I can't provide a direct link as he references me by my "government name".

So There!

This morning on the subway, B had the nerve to suggest that he might not audition for Last Comic Standing.

I repaid his hesitation by claiming that if he didn't try out, I would never speak to him again.

And then spent the rest of the subway ride doing just that.

Ha!

Par-tay

Next week, B is going to try out for Last Comic Standing. This will probably necessitate camping outside the audition venue for the night.

He expresses concern over weather, temperature, blah, blah, blah.

I, on the other hand, am trying to fully encourage him not only because he is amazingly funny...but because I'd have the apartment to myself.

Word.