- bunch of beefeaters standing around and comparing hats.
- can i take a shower after fever breaks
- famous neon disco party
- gossip interested face
- my dopeness
- she emptied her bladder into my mouth
- "my yoga instructor" and "large breasts"
- do i need a permit to remodel my kitchen in los angeles
Monday, April 30, 2012
One-Hit Wonders: April 2012
...search terms inexplicably pulling up this blog...
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Conversation Chronicles: Dad's Birthday Dinner
dad: i want to drink for this country, thank it for saving our lifes.
me: second shot of vodka, right on time.
dad: if we were in russia, i would be dead long time ago.
my sister: here he goes again.
dad: it's true. i would be dead and you and your sister would be prostitutes.
{my sister and i exchange confused glances.}
me: well, that's a new one.
my sister: how do you figure that, dad?
dad: it happened to a lot of girls. and if i'm dead, it would happen to you.
me: i'll drink to not being a prostitute.
my sister: and now we'll be drinking to this at every family gathering.
me: yep.
me: second shot of vodka, right on time.
dad: if we were in russia, i would be dead long time ago.
my sister: here he goes again.
dad: it's true. i would be dead and you and your sister would be prostitutes.
{my sister and i exchange confused glances.}
me: well, that's a new one.
my sister: how do you figure that, dad?
dad: it happened to a lot of girls. and if i'm dead, it would happen to you.
me: i'll drink to not being a prostitute.
my sister: and now we'll be drinking to this at every family gathering.
me: yep.
Monday, April 09, 2012
Product Placement
cabin in the woods: i’m very lucky as this is my friend’s cabin, which she lets me rent at a reduced rate, but even if she didn’t, i would pay full price because this place is worth all the pennies in the world. it’s situated among redwoods in Russian River, about 90 minutes north of San Francisco. i’ve been there twice in three months, once over new year’s and again just a few weeks ago, both times with my best friend and gay husband, whom i went on the 20-mile hike with. this time around, we went on no hikes and instead filled up our days with home-cooked meals, bottles of local pinot, streamed movies, jigsaw puzzles, daily bubble baths and plenty of relaxation. if that sounds incredible, it was. the cabin sleeps six comfortably and is available for rent year-round. more info at the Russian River Hideaway website. make sure to mention the milla times when making your reservation.
while you’re there: drive to Calistoga, which is an hour east of Russian River, and hit up Indian Springs Resort & Spa for a volcanic ash mudbath. for $85, you’ll be buried to your neck in mud, enjoy a mineral bath (courtesy of Calistoga’s many natural hot springs), sit in a steam room, and then relax with cucumbers on your eyes. a very polite minder is on hand to provide lemon water and usher you through the experience, which will be one of the best hours of your life. trust me, it was amazing and a half. afterwards, go to Michelin-starred Solbar for one of the best meals of your life.
back in LA: you’re gonna want cupcakes, good cupcakes, for your next big event. i heart cupcakes is your spot. i assure you my bias toward this establishment has nothing to do with the fact that it’s run by my good friend and coworker Suzie, because the cupcakes really are delicious — coming in flavors such as chocolate ganache, dulce de leche and baileys and cream. you can’t eat just one.
photo is unrelated: but cute shoes, eh? they’re one of my favorite pairs. anyway, the last recommendation is for the super awesome Writing Pad in Los Angeles, which offers myriad writing courses, many of which i’ve taken in the past year. the classes are small, teachers are awesome, and environment is supportive. i’ve met some great people there — impressive writers and human beings (the founder, Marilyn, being among them). make sure to mention the milla times when signing up so i can get a free class and let me know which class you’re taking so we can take it together.
please remember that i’m not getting paid to endorse anything i’ve written here, which is a damn shame because i have no shame. but, seriously, these are things i really like. hopefully, you’ll really like them, too. and if not, then you probably have bad taste.
Friday, March 30, 2012
One-Hit Wonders: March 2012
...search terms inexplicably pulling up this blog...
- bloody irish fight
- "do you need a hug" hallmark
- milla's first foot tickling video 1
- tickling lesbians
- picture of someone excited
- old car oil kill tree stumps
- jerk off conversation
- daddy beer belly
- we are machines life is meaningless future is empty
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The Home-Improvement Chronicles: Setback City
no, the deck isn’t done yet. yes, i thought it’d be done by now, too, but reality had a different plan, one that involved my neighbor, the block bitch, calling the city inspector on me and another neighbor who was also having a deck built by my contractor, effectively shutting down both jobs in an instant. this was back in december, and hammers have not swung on my property since.
an inspector’s arrival wouldn’t have been a big deal, as all of the work on my house has been done to code, but this one decided to do some snooping, as inspectors tend to. and his snooping led him to take issue with several things that hadn’t even been touched during this remodel, things that had been grandfathered in with the house. among them was the house’s electrical panel, which he insists should be rewired and moved five inches, a very expensive process, to clear six feet from my neighbor’s property as required by LA City code, even though the panel has been in the same spot since i bought the house (and probably long before) without ever setting my neighbor’s house on fire.
he also took issue with the toilet and sink in the basement (neither of which i installed), a relic of the previous owners who housed people in the very small, uninhabitable place. and the copper plumbing that came with the house? yeah, that was never permitted so i need to handle that.
oh, and that deck i planned to build, which was to have the same specs as the one torn down? apparently, that was never permitted either, so any deck built now counts as new construction. and by the way, the City of LA says the hillside i live on is designated as a fire zone, so the lumber will need to be fire-treated and the deck’s supporting posts will need to be steel to accommodate the hill’s gradient.
obviously, this has been a most unhappy development, one that has added several thousands of dollars to the remodel’s total cost. not only will i need to pay for numerous permits for work i never did to my house, i’ll need to pay to have some of that work amended (e.g., moving the electrical panel). plus, there are noncompliance fees, inspection fees, plan submittal fees, and do you know how pricey fire-treated lumber and steel posts are?
after the shock of this news wore off and the compulsion to choke out the neighbor who called the inspector passed, i steadied myself and got down to handling business. first step involved speaking to the inspector, who turned out to be a most lovely and agreeable person. he wasn’t agreeable enough to throw out the dossier that had been created for my house despite my pleas, but he was flexible enough to extend a few deadlines for me.
then i got to the business of finding a good structural engineer, who could draw up and stamp the plans for the city. i must confess that i bungled this task, but i’m blaming this on the fact that i had the plague while searching and my congested head compromised my usual due diligence. the engineer i ended up with — after the first one quit dramatically over a contract dispute — has proven himself to be an epic shithead by being dismissive and patronizing to me throughout the project. (note to the internet: don’t use ATS Engineering in Glendale.)
but given that the check had been cashed and the plans were getting drawn, i was in too deep to restart the hunt, so i tried to work with him and his architect sidekick, who also had trouble remembering every conversation in which a request was made. i tried switching to email-only conversations, but this seemed not to help their collective absentmindedness. (note: Mo the architect could not draw up these plans as the city requires they be stamped by a licensed structural engineer.)
oh, the city. i still do love it despite its many flaws, with the Department of Building and Safety perhaps being its biggest. i cannot count the number of times letters got lost in the mail, phone calls were placed on hold and never returned to, and conflicting information was given. all the while, fees were collected, of course.
as someone whose day job is in compliance, i understand that gray areas exist and allowances must be made for subjective interpretation of certain rules, but my work is still largely guided by a manual that can be referred to as needed. so when i called the city and told them to “please check the code book so i can get a definitive answer” and was told the answer could “depend on the inspector,” you can imagine my dropped jaw and clenched fists.
and some of these codes are truly ridiculous. you practically need a permit to sneeze in your own house in the city of Los Angeles. it’s no exaggeration to say that the only thing you might not need a permit for is to paint, and that’s only because the city has not yet devised a way to tell you that it disapproves of your paint color and is regulating it for your own safety.
for my project, the biggest issue became the yard setback. apparently, front and side yards need to be the same distance from a house and/or any structures connected to it, like a deck, which is difficult when one is much smaller than the other. in my case, my house’s small front yard ended up shrinking the deck from its former 10’ by 20’ size to 8’ by 14’. i also lost the staircase at the side of the house, which connected the kitchen to the washer/dryer in the basement, because it stood too close to my neighbor’s property. this means i now have a door to nowhere in my kitchen that will have to be replaced with a window when construction restarts.
so when will construction restart? fine question. maybe april, may, june, who knows? the plans are now with the city for review, submitted just this week with an expedited status, which (of course) generated a 50% increase in filing fees. once approved, i have to apply for the permits, get an estimate from my contractor, construct, inspect, and then drink heavily to try to forget this whole thing ever happened. maybe after that i can get around to planning a party and enjoying my deck.
in the meantime, i am working like a single mother of five whose house is in foreclosure, bills are past due and job is in jeopardy. please note that none of this is true about my situation beyond the hours worked, which top off regularly at 70 a week. the past few weekends have been spent implanted into my couch, eating takeout with my laptop in front of me and dogs beside me, slogging through two magazine projects, a biannual proof of Cedars-Sinai’s donor list (a 200-page document), audio transcriptions for a new client, and brochure proofing for UCLA.
in short, i am exhausted, but that deck will be paid for, goddammit. i’ve resolved not to take out any more loans. apologies for any blogslacking in the interim. this crazy work schedule should not continue for much longer and i believe (hope?) the worst is behind me as one magazine is shipping to the printer soon and i’ve enrolled the help of a colleague to help me with some of the overflow.
it’s been a trying few months dealing with the city and a trying few weeks working so much, but i’m optimistic that “it will all be worth it in the end” — the cliche i’ve heard way too often through this remodel (which began on aug. 1, 2011, by the way), but one i’m whispering to myself every time i write another check or spend another hour working instead of sleeping.
an inspector’s arrival wouldn’t have been a big deal, as all of the work on my house has been done to code, but this one decided to do some snooping, as inspectors tend to. and his snooping led him to take issue with several things that hadn’t even been touched during this remodel, things that had been grandfathered in with the house. among them was the house’s electrical panel, which he insists should be rewired and moved five inches, a very expensive process, to clear six feet from my neighbor’s property as required by LA City code, even though the panel has been in the same spot since i bought the house (and probably long before) without ever setting my neighbor’s house on fire.
he also took issue with the toilet and sink in the basement (neither of which i installed), a relic of the previous owners who housed people in the very small, uninhabitable place. and the copper plumbing that came with the house? yeah, that was never permitted so i need to handle that.
oh, and that deck i planned to build, which was to have the same specs as the one torn down? apparently, that was never permitted either, so any deck built now counts as new construction. and by the way, the City of LA says the hillside i live on is designated as a fire zone, so the lumber will need to be fire-treated and the deck’s supporting posts will need to be steel to accommodate the hill’s gradient.
obviously, this has been a most unhappy development, one that has added several thousands of dollars to the remodel’s total cost. not only will i need to pay for numerous permits for work i never did to my house, i’ll need to pay to have some of that work amended (e.g., moving the electrical panel). plus, there are noncompliance fees, inspection fees, plan submittal fees, and do you know how pricey fire-treated lumber and steel posts are?
after the shock of this news wore off and the compulsion to choke out the neighbor who called the inspector passed, i steadied myself and got down to handling business. first step involved speaking to the inspector, who turned out to be a most lovely and agreeable person. he wasn’t agreeable enough to throw out the dossier that had been created for my house despite my pleas, but he was flexible enough to extend a few deadlines for me.
then i got to the business of finding a good structural engineer, who could draw up and stamp the plans for the city. i must confess that i bungled this task, but i’m blaming this on the fact that i had the plague while searching and my congested head compromised my usual due diligence. the engineer i ended up with — after the first one quit dramatically over a contract dispute — has proven himself to be an epic shithead by being dismissive and patronizing to me throughout the project. (note to the internet: don’t use ATS Engineering in Glendale.)
but given that the check had been cashed and the plans were getting drawn, i was in too deep to restart the hunt, so i tried to work with him and his architect sidekick, who also had trouble remembering every conversation in which a request was made. i tried switching to email-only conversations, but this seemed not to help their collective absentmindedness. (note: Mo the architect could not draw up these plans as the city requires they be stamped by a licensed structural engineer.)
oh, the city. i still do love it despite its many flaws, with the Department of Building and Safety perhaps being its biggest. i cannot count the number of times letters got lost in the mail, phone calls were placed on hold and never returned to, and conflicting information was given. all the while, fees were collected, of course.
as someone whose day job is in compliance, i understand that gray areas exist and allowances must be made for subjective interpretation of certain rules, but my work is still largely guided by a manual that can be referred to as needed. so when i called the city and told them to “please check the code book so i can get a definitive answer” and was told the answer could “depend on the inspector,” you can imagine my dropped jaw and clenched fists.
and some of these codes are truly ridiculous. you practically need a permit to sneeze in your own house in the city of Los Angeles. it’s no exaggeration to say that the only thing you might not need a permit for is to paint, and that’s only because the city has not yet devised a way to tell you that it disapproves of your paint color and is regulating it for your own safety.
for my project, the biggest issue became the yard setback. apparently, front and side yards need to be the same distance from a house and/or any structures connected to it, like a deck, which is difficult when one is much smaller than the other. in my case, my house’s small front yard ended up shrinking the deck from its former 10’ by 20’ size to 8’ by 14’. i also lost the staircase at the side of the house, which connected the kitchen to the washer/dryer in the basement, because it stood too close to my neighbor’s property. this means i now have a door to nowhere in my kitchen that will have to be replaced with a window when construction restarts.
so when will construction restart? fine question. maybe april, may, june, who knows? the plans are now with the city for review, submitted just this week with an expedited status, which (of course) generated a 50% increase in filing fees. once approved, i have to apply for the permits, get an estimate from my contractor, construct, inspect, and then drink heavily to try to forget this whole thing ever happened. maybe after that i can get around to planning a party and enjoying my deck.
in the meantime, i am working like a single mother of five whose house is in foreclosure, bills are past due and job is in jeopardy. please note that none of this is true about my situation beyond the hours worked, which top off regularly at 70 a week. the past few weekends have been spent implanted into my couch, eating takeout with my laptop in front of me and dogs beside me, slogging through two magazine projects, a biannual proof of Cedars-Sinai’s donor list (a 200-page document), audio transcriptions for a new client, and brochure proofing for UCLA.
in short, i am exhausted, but that deck will be paid for, goddammit. i’ve resolved not to take out any more loans. apologies for any blogslacking in the interim. this crazy work schedule should not continue for much longer and i believe (hope?) the worst is behind me as one magazine is shipping to the printer soon and i’ve enrolled the help of a colleague to help me with some of the overflow.
it’s been a trying few months dealing with the city and a trying few weeks working so much, but i’m optimistic that “it will all be worth it in the end” — the cliche i’ve heard way too often through this remodel (which began on aug. 1, 2011, by the way), but one i’m whispering to myself every time i write another check or spend another hour working instead of sleeping.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
One-Hit Wonders: February 2012
...search terms inexplicably pulling up this blog...
- "hate valentine's day"
- bedroom with caution tape
- hubba hubba mila
- where's my vodka
- yard dog chainsaw review
- pour liquor on the floor
- two-headed girl
- doctor pinky
- constantly wanting people to take pity on you
Friday, February 24, 2012
Things to Do When You're Sick Again
or maybe that should be “still sick,” or perhaps “sick for four fucking weeks.” yep, four fucking weeks of the flu, a sinus infection and then a sinus re-infection. in that time, i went to the doctor twice, missed five days of work, had violent coughing fits that just fell short of vomitting, filled wastebaskets with tissues covered in brown mucus, left ricola wrappers all throughout my house, and spent several days alternating between doses of Dayquil and Nyquil. i engaged in a few other thrilling activities, outlined below, and available for replication as long as they don’t infringe on any copyrights.
- lie in bed certain that you’re going to die alone, because who really wants to take care of the snotty, stuffy, wheezy, unshowered ass you’ve become, you pathetic little sick girl? in between naps, browse a few internet dating sites before closing your browser in digest, suddenly OK with the notion of dying alone.
- convince yourself that you’re healthy enough to attend a friend’s birthday party in Long Beach. go to the party with a box of tissues in your purse and, for god’s sake, don’t cough on people when you talk to them. foolishly finish a second glass of wine that disagrees with the many decongestants you’ve taken that day and makes you feel naseuous and tired. beg the friends you came with to take you back to your car across town immediately, even though they are having a good time. pass out on your friend’s guest bed within seconds of arriving at her house. wake up at 1:30am with mascara smeared down your face to drive yourself home in silence and shame.
- go to work like normal, because you’ve burned through too many sick days and it’s only february. ask your coworkers every day if you’re coughing less today than you were yesterday. wonder if you’re sensing irritation or impending illness in their eyes when they respond to you through clenched teeth with another suggestion that you should go home.
- decide that you will attack the second sinus infection with homeopathic remedies instead of another round of antibiotics for fear of developing a resistance to antibiotics (whoops, too late). spend $80 at Whole Foods on Sinusalia, garlic drops for the ears, and a variety of juices, soups and teas to keep you hydrated. hide the garlic drops after your dogs try to burrow into your ear every time you use them. eat soup while sitting on your couch in your pajamas and catching up on 30 Rock.
- spend your downtime proofreading 400 pages for a freelance client. reread pages numerous times as your head is cloudy and clogged, which has turned your normally eagle eyes into the eyes of a dyslexic toddler. ask the client for an extension.
- go to acupuncture in an effort to remain au naturel in your pursuit of health. hold your breath while needles are inserted into your head and face. feel amazing right after the session ends only to feel like shit later when the lymph nodes in your neck swell to bodybuilder proportions, making it hard to swallow or breathe. endure a hellish sleep that’s punctuated with coughing fits that leave you gasping for air. cry because you’re sick of being sick already and when will it end and why does the universe hate me so much? i’m sorry for whatever i did to deserve this and i promise i won’t ever do it again, whatever it was.
- wonder if this sickness is the result of you deciding to give up meat at the start of 2012 and if these are the elusive toxins entering your bloodstream, which is what all the au naturel folks say happens when you decide to go au naturel. consider having a steak to see if it makes you feel better. have that steak and feel gross afterwards, having added indigestion to your sinus congestion. decide to maintain the meatlessness going forward.
- wake up the morning after your second acupuncture appointment feeling better. get worried that this is only a reprieve before the next relapse. blow your nose and feel almost relieved when you see brown snot in the tissue. confuse yourself with your thoughts.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Why I Hate Valentine's Day
i realize how absolutely cliché it is to say you hate valentine’s day because it’s an evil nonholiday created by Hallmark to stimulate consumerism and what about the other days of the year you should show your sweetie you love them? blah, blah. we’ve all heard it.
and while all of it may be true, it’s completely unrelated to my disdain for this evil nonholiday, which will forever be symbolic of a nuclear bomb blowing up in my chest. for several years now, i’ve spent the day feeling like a jew on christmas, minus the chinese food and trip to the movies. but the indifference to all the gifts and seemingly sacred celebrations that are attached to some religious figure whose very existence is questionable is the same. at least we get the day off for christmas.
it started in 2004, which would have gone down as The Worst Valentine’s Day Ever had it not been for valentine’s day 2010. but let’s back up to 2003, probably my last good valentine’s day. i had a boyfriend named Pablo then, whom i was with for four years — good years during which we shared four very romantic valentine’s days that included dinner, gifts and all that schmooptie pooptie stuff you do when you’re a person who doesn’t hate valentine’s day. because back then, i was an enthusiastic advocate for the day, consumerism aside and included. the flowers, chocolates, expensive meals and great wine are enough to get anyone on board.
then came january 2004, the month Pablo cheated on me, effectively ending our relationship, annihilating me emotionally and lighting the candle of what would become my burning hatred for the day. a few weeks after the breakup, my friend Zahra dragged me to a Match.com singles mixer in Hollywood. did i mention that Zahra is a former beauty queen? no joke. (i encourage you to read more about that here.) in short, it was not a fun night, only adding to my heartache and filling me with an overwhelming desire to call Pablo and ask him to ask me for another chance. thankfully, i resisted.
after that, i spent a couple years living the single vida loca before beginning another serious relationship, the one that would come to define my life in ways no other relationship has — and i mean that in the most positive way imaginable. fast forward to valentine’s day 2006, a time when my then-boyfriend Mo and i were very much in love and living together.
in an effort to reclaim valentine’s day as something i could get behind again, i got Mo a small gift for the occasion and assumed he would reciprocate even though we had never discussed what would happen (or not happen) on that day. he, assuming i was too evolved to care about such a silly little nonholiday, didn’t see what the big deal was. an argument followed, which culminated in me attempting to destroy the gift like a total, mature adult.
after the smoke cleared and tears dried, Mo and i had a very civil discussion about our outlook for valentine’s day and mutually agreed that we would no longer observe it in any way. and, wow, what a HUGE relief. no more agonizing over gifts, trying to plan the perfect evening or piling expectations onto a day that’s too often destined for disappointment. the day had been neutralized and stayed that way for a few years with nary an acknowledgement by either of us. and the truth was that i didn’t miss it one bit.
fast forward to valentine’s day 2010, the day Mo and i broke up. yes, you read that right. because if there’s anything more cliché than hating on valentine’s day, it’s breaking up — or getting engaged — on valentine’s day. and no one does clichés better than i do. being a 35-year-old single, jewish woman who wants kids should be more evidence of my mad skillz. if i had a profile on jdate, i might win the Cliché of the Year Award!
in any case, the fact that Mo and i broke up on valentine’s day had nothing to do with the fact that it was valentine’s day. as unlikely as that statement seems, it’s 100% true. trouble had been brewing for many months and just happened to combust like a powder keg on that day. call it coincidence or irony or bad luck. the eventual end result — as Mo and i kept living together for a few months following the breakup (awful idea, by the way) — was the dissolution of our five-year relationship and the irreversible scarring of a day meant to symbolize joyful love.
now it just symbolizes the worst type of heartbreak for me — the type where you fall apart, certain you’re losing the love of your life. it’s bad enough to feel once, but feeling it twice is a special treat reserved for people who live in the third realm of hell. thankfully, the food isn’t too bad down here. a little on the spicy side.
in the weeks leading up to this day, i could feel the blues setting in, the memories racing back, the regrets bubbling up. i thought i had made peace with most of it and think i’ve done good work since my breakup with Mo, but i’m far from peace. there are still quite a few thoughts that make my blood boil or my lip tremble. you’d think the two years i spent thinking, rethinking and overthinking everything would be enough, but heartache is a scab and valentine’s day is the 7-year-old who can’t stop picking at it.
of course, i realize that i may not always feel this way and there could be a great love coming who will reverse everything once again and blah, blah. i’ve heard those clichés, too. could happen, could not, but at this point it really doesn’t matter to me. the only thing that does matter is getting through this day, so i can file away these feelings and memories for another year.
and while all of it may be true, it’s completely unrelated to my disdain for this evil nonholiday, which will forever be symbolic of a nuclear bomb blowing up in my chest. for several years now, i’ve spent the day feeling like a jew on christmas, minus the chinese food and trip to the movies. but the indifference to all the gifts and seemingly sacred celebrations that are attached to some religious figure whose very existence is questionable is the same. at least we get the day off for christmas.
it started in 2004, which would have gone down as The Worst Valentine’s Day Ever had it not been for valentine’s day 2010. but let’s back up to 2003, probably my last good valentine’s day. i had a boyfriend named Pablo then, whom i was with for four years — good years during which we shared four very romantic valentine’s days that included dinner, gifts and all that schmooptie pooptie stuff you do when you’re a person who doesn’t hate valentine’s day. because back then, i was an enthusiastic advocate for the day, consumerism aside and included. the flowers, chocolates, expensive meals and great wine are enough to get anyone on board.
then came january 2004, the month Pablo cheated on me, effectively ending our relationship, annihilating me emotionally and lighting the candle of what would become my burning hatred for the day. a few weeks after the breakup, my friend Zahra dragged me to a Match.com singles mixer in Hollywood. did i mention that Zahra is a former beauty queen? no joke. (i encourage you to read more about that here.) in short, it was not a fun night, only adding to my heartache and filling me with an overwhelming desire to call Pablo and ask him to ask me for another chance. thankfully, i resisted.
after that, i spent a couple years living the single vida loca before beginning another serious relationship, the one that would come to define my life in ways no other relationship has — and i mean that in the most positive way imaginable. fast forward to valentine’s day 2006, a time when my then-boyfriend Mo and i were very much in love and living together.
in an effort to reclaim valentine’s day as something i could get behind again, i got Mo a small gift for the occasion and assumed he would reciprocate even though we had never discussed what would happen (or not happen) on that day. he, assuming i was too evolved to care about such a silly little nonholiday, didn’t see what the big deal was. an argument followed, which culminated in me attempting to destroy the gift like a total, mature adult.
after the smoke cleared and tears dried, Mo and i had a very civil discussion about our outlook for valentine’s day and mutually agreed that we would no longer observe it in any way. and, wow, what a HUGE relief. no more agonizing over gifts, trying to plan the perfect evening or piling expectations onto a day that’s too often destined for disappointment. the day had been neutralized and stayed that way for a few years with nary an acknowledgement by either of us. and the truth was that i didn’t miss it one bit.
fast forward to valentine’s day 2010, the day Mo and i broke up. yes, you read that right. because if there’s anything more cliché than hating on valentine’s day, it’s breaking up — or getting engaged — on valentine’s day. and no one does clichés better than i do. being a 35-year-old single, jewish woman who wants kids should be more evidence of my mad skillz. if i had a profile on jdate, i might win the Cliché of the Year Award!
in any case, the fact that Mo and i broke up on valentine’s day had nothing to do with the fact that it was valentine’s day. as unlikely as that statement seems, it’s 100% true. trouble had been brewing for many months and just happened to combust like a powder keg on that day. call it coincidence or irony or bad luck. the eventual end result — as Mo and i kept living together for a few months following the breakup (awful idea, by the way) — was the dissolution of our five-year relationship and the irreversible scarring of a day meant to symbolize joyful love.
now it just symbolizes the worst type of heartbreak for me — the type where you fall apart, certain you’re losing the love of your life. it’s bad enough to feel once, but feeling it twice is a special treat reserved for people who live in the third realm of hell. thankfully, the food isn’t too bad down here. a little on the spicy side.
in the weeks leading up to this day, i could feel the blues setting in, the memories racing back, the regrets bubbling up. i thought i had made peace with most of it and think i’ve done good work since my breakup with Mo, but i’m far from peace. there are still quite a few thoughts that make my blood boil or my lip tremble. you’d think the two years i spent thinking, rethinking and overthinking everything would be enough, but heartache is a scab and valentine’s day is the 7-year-old who can’t stop picking at it.
of course, i realize that i may not always feel this way and there could be a great love coming who will reverse everything once again and blah, blah. i’ve heard those clichés, too. could happen, could not, but at this point it really doesn’t matter to me. the only thing that does matter is getting through this day, so i can file away these feelings and memories for another year.
Friday, February 03, 2012
Things to To Do When You're Home Sick
this week, i was taken down by a very nasty flu — and i mean “taken down” the way a sniper’s bullet takes you down. i was sicker than i’ve been in years. i went to work with a scratchy throat one tuesday morning and came home after lunch with chills and body aches. then i spent the next three days in bed with my head in a fog, wallowing in self-pity. i did engage in a few other activities, which i’ve kindly outlined here in case you also find yourself taken down by this unkind plague.
- lie in bed moaning loudly (and for all the wrong reasons). tell yourself to stop moaning loudly because it’s unnecessary and melodramatic. wonder if this is delerium setting in.
- sleep 15 hours during the first night of your flu and awaken with hip and joint pain because you spent too much time lying down. sleep 5 hours the second night of your flu and awaken with a pounding headache because you didn’t sleep long enough. take vicodin.
- refuse the many offers of assistance because you’re worried about getting people sick even though you desperately want people to come over and take pity on you. get a surprise delivery of soup placed on the trunk of your car by one of your favorite friends. realize (again) that your friends are super awesome.
- play Words With Friends nonstop. get impatient when your friends don’t play their turn within 30 seconds of you playing your turn. search for more friends to play with.
- worry your dogs, who begin looking at you as though you were dying. leave your bed, where your dogs are not allowed, to spend some time on the couch, where your dogs are allowed. negotiate the sibling rivalry between your dogs as they climb over each other in an attempt to sit on your chest and lick your face. choke on dog hair and then go back to bed.
- tell your parents (who have begun calling you twice a day) that you will NOT see a doctor because you refuse to waste money to hear a doctor tell you what you already know — that you have the flu. wonder when you turned into an old jewish man.
- wear your pajamas for three days straight without showering or even washing your face. wake up the morning your fever breaks drenched in sweat and realize that it’s time to take a shower. take a 45-minute shower and return to bed.
- remind yourself that even though you’re 35 and without a boyfriend to take care of you doesn’t mean that you’ll die alone and unloved. that’s just the fever talking. consider joining an online dating service once you’re healed.
- catch up on Teen Mom. catch up on Teen Mom 2. be thankful you were never a teen mom.
- eat very little. drink three gallons of water. take no medicine except vicodin for your headache. miss work for three days. avoid doing your dishes. let all calls go to voicemail (except your parents’, who will keep calling back until you answer). bemoan your lack of energy. stand outside in your pajamas to catch sun on your face. cherish your health once it returns.
Monday, January 30, 2012
One-Hit Wonders: January 2012
...search terms inexplicably pulling up my blog...
- "first toasts" sardines
- gay smurf vanity
- magic chicken
- what are kitchen tables made of?
- monkey bathroom sponge
- medals awarded to irish pro treaty forces irish civil war
- low hangers peek out
- a feather toucher to a nouther gril to orgasum
- why cant i party like i used to
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