Archive for random thoughts

The Vagaries of Bachelor Life

I am often struck by the differences between how single men and women live, usually when I’m at B’s house:

*When I first met B, he had a random group of gnarly eating utensils.  Cheap, flimsy, mangled silverware (and I use that term very loosely).  At one point I suggested to him that he put a set of silverware on his Christmas list last year, which he did.  But even then, his mom gave him a set of Martha Stewart silverware, but it was only 4 place settings.  I suggested that he go to Macy’s and buy a second set.  He didn’t understand that at all.  I said, well, what would you do if you ever had more than 4 people over for dinner?  He went ahead and got the set.

*B cooked me dinner one night and served it to me with a plastic spoon (this was before he got the new set).  He apologized, but explained how the regular stuff was in the dishwasher, so he couldn’t use them.  I said, um, [B], you COULD just hand wash dishes if you really need them.  Hadn’t occurred to him.

*Even if he did want to wash dishes by hand, he doesn’t have any sponges or dishrags.  Nothing.  Although he does have dish soap.  I bought him some dishrags.  To my knowledge, I’m the only one who has used them thus far. 

*He also doesn’t have any dish towels.  No, I take that back, he does have one.  The same one that has been hanging from the oven at least as long as I have known him.  And he recently confessed to me that he has never washed it (and he does about 4 loads of laundry a week, not sure why that has never made it in there).  I also bought him some hand towels, but I don’t think he ever switches them up.  I just do it when I’m there.

*He has no handsoap in the kitchen.  I bought him a handsoap dispenser as well.   Mostly because I got tired of running back and forth to the bathroom to wash my hands when we cook. 

*B has whole cabinets in his kitchen that are empty.  I would give my left arm for extra space in my kitchen.

*B is actually pretty good at keeping his house tidy.  He cleans his house every week , on a pretty regular schedule.  He actually keeps his house a lot more neat than I do.  But he misses some stuff:

*  His bathroom soap dispenser is always dusty and covered in crusted over soap.  I usually rinse it off when I’m in there.

*Although he is good at cleaning his bathroom mirror, he evidently doesn’t notice the blue windex streak on the wall beside his mirror. 

*He has three things in his shower – shampoo, soap, wash rag.  I have probably twenty.  A couple different sets of shampoo and conditioner, regular soap, body wash, bubble bath, salt and sugar scrubs, face soap, exfoliator, shaving gel, razors, etc.  I admit, his is probably more on the reasonable side than mine.

*B’s entire place is painted the same color:  off-white.  He calls it tan.  Trust me, it’s off-white.  Every room in my apartment is painted. 

*When his dad passed away, my mom sent B a plant.  It needs sunlight (of course), so he rigged up two cardboard boxes, taped them together with masking tape.  That is his plant stand.  It’s super attractive.

*One guy I dated used a beach towel for his bath towel.  I made fun of him enough that he asked his mom for towels for Christmas.  Even then, he didn’t personally use them.  Wanted to save them for guests and special occasions. 

*That same guy lived in a pretty cool loft in the city.  His bathroom was wall was made entirely of glass blocks.  He noticed that when I went to the bathroom (for the first time) in his place, I turned the light off.  When I came out, he asked why I was peeing in the dark.  I told him I didn’t want him to see me sitting on the pot (keep in mind the loft was just one big open space so you could see the bathroom from any point)  He laughed at me, like that was totally ridiculous.  I guarantee that every woman he has had in his loft has had the very same thought.

*B has a pizza oven.  Now, I know a lot of people have those, but truly, it is a trend I don’t understand.  I asked him why he couldn’t just cook the pizza in his regular oven, and he told me that it is just easier to do it that way.  But he has to haul that thing out from the panty (where he also has entirely empty shelves) every time.  I don’t get it.

*Like a lot of women, B does a separate load of laundry for his “delicates”.  He literally calls him that.  But his delicates?  Are sports jerseys and moisture wicking shirts. 

That’s all I can think of right now.  I wonder what men think about the way women live.  Do we do weird things?

Reason number 4,872…..

why Facebook is evil.

Now, I’m barely a member of Facebook.  I have a page, have filled out the bare minimum of a profile, and have posted exactly one picture on there.  I have about 35 friends, most of whom I never see in real life.  I don’t have anyone to stalk on Facebook, so that isn’t a problem. 

But.

Tonight I decided to do a search on the folks who graduated in my law school class.  Can I tell you?  It had to be about 90% of them that had babies/children in their main pictures.  I was all “awww” and “ooh, that’s a sweet baby” for the first page, but by the second, third and beyond pages, I started to think, “wait a minute, how have ALL of them managed to marry and reproduce in the last 5 years?”

Now.  Basically all of my friends have babies, so that’s nothing new.  But I always think, well, I’ve taken a little bit of a different path – having gone through 3 more years of school than they did.  So somehow I found it shocking that all those people who did follow the same path as I did are all married with children.

So, yeah.  It’s official – I’m WAY behind the eight ball.  Of course I know that everyone has their own timeline in life and these things are not to be worried about, but still.  The clock’s a tickin’

I’m bringing sexy back…

When was the first time you felt sexy?  That you had an awareness of your body?

As I was driving home from work today, I saw a group of kids, they were walking, so I’m assuming they were younger than 16.  Anyway, one of them was wearing a form-fitting shirt and seemed very self-possessed, and I suddenly flashed back to the first time I had such an awareness of my body. 

It was when I was 15.  Now, prior to that time I was not completely innocent.  I had made out with boys, had been probably to about 2nd base.  Well, rather, I had allowed a boy to get to my second base, I had never actually touched a boy.  Mostly because it had never even occurred to me. 

Its not that I hadn’t thought about my looks, because of course I had.  I worried about my hair and my clothes and the little bit of makeup that I knew how to put on.  I knew the boys thought I was cute.  But I had not conceived that I could possibly be sexy. 

Anyway, so my best friend came over and brought some clothes with her.  We were going to the County Fair, and of course, one must look good to do so.  I’m kind of embarrassed at the thought of it now, but it was the place to be back then.  So I had these brand new shorts that were hip huggers and I thought they were just soooo cool.  I put on one of my friend’s tops and looked in the mirror.  Oh my gosh, I thought, this is tight!  It wasn’t really tight, but much more form-fitted than the t-shirts (this was before the time when t-shirts came with a fitted female cut) I normally wore.  I asked my friend, “are you sure I should wear this?  Do I look fat?  Is my stomach hanging out?”  We decided that it was fine, and away we went. 

So we went to the fair and met up with a couple of boys that we use to hang out with.  One of them really noticed me and told me I looked really good in the outfit.  He wanted to get together with me after that, but I said no thanks, he had never liked me before, so really all he liked was me in my best friend’s clothes. 

But it gave me a sense of empowerment that I hadn’t had previously and was my first taste of feeling sexy.  It is a feeling that I never fully relaxed into, and it is a way that I never really feel anymore.   Sometimes I wish I still had that feeling.  And sometimes I wish I never had that awareness of my body, because it can lead to too much worrying about it, placing to much emphasis on it.  What if my arms are too flabby, or my boobs too big, my legs too short? 

Anyway.

Cause I love the way you call me baby….

Except you, lunch waiter dude. 

No.  No I don’t love the way you called me “baby”.

Cohabitation?

After my last post, several of you dear readers asked me what I think about the possibility of moving in with B.

My feelings on the subject are somewhat mixed at this point.

On the pro side? Well, first and foremost, we would get to be together a lot more. We would be more intimate, more honest, more real, and learn a lot of things about each other that we don’t already know. Our lives would be more together, and not so clearly his life and my life. And that would be great. I want to be able to share myself with someone, with B. My life for so long has been just about me.

Some of those things fall on the con side as well. I guess I’m afraid to be that completely intimate and open. Of course, I’m always myself when I’m around B and try to be honest about everything. But still, the times that we share right now are easy and carefree. We don’t share any responsibilities.

When I think about the fact that there are a lot of things I don’t know about him and a lot of things he doesn’t know about me, it makes me very nervous. And not really because of the things I don’t know about him, but mostly because of the things he doesn’t know about me. It’s nothing I could say in so many words, nothing specifically I have been keeping from him, but I just don’t think I’m a picnic to live with.

I’m a slob. But I always clean before he comes over here, so he doesn’t really know that.

Also? I’ve been living completely alone for 8 years. I’ve gotten used to it. I like it. I can do what I want when I want, or nothing at all if I so choose. I can leave the dishes in the sink for tomorrow if I want to. I can sit around in various states of undress. I can watch what I want to watch on tv, I can eat what I want and when I want, I can go to bed as early or late as I want, and I can wake up as early or late as I want. My money is my money and my debts are my debts.

Geez, selfish much? I know, I know. And like I said earlier – I never intended my whole life to be entirely and wholly about ME.

So anyway, despite the fact that I just spent about 5 paragraphs being all negative about it, if everything fell into place (or rather we made everything fall into place), I would probably move in with him. Because otherwise, what am I doing? Things will never really progress past a certain point with this relationship if I don’t. I’m sure it would be great, but I’m just a cautious person by nature, and I have trouble making even the smallest decisions. I’m so afraid of making mistakes. So that decision would be a big one for me.

I guess I had always pictured me moving up BY him at some point (but still in my own place) and easing into it a little more. Who knows. It just depends on timing and any number of other factors.

Later!

Stuff

Do ya’ll use Google Reader?  Maybe you’ve all been using it forever and I’m just really slow on the uptake, but seriously?  If you don’t use it, definitely check it out.  I subscribed to all of my favorite blogs and it tells me when someone has published a new post, and I don’t have to go to 137 blogs 10 times a day (obsessive, no?) to see if someone has posted.  I just sit back and let Google Reader do the work for me.  I can’t tell you how much time it saves me.  And it suggests new blogs to me all the time, and sometimes I add those too, because why not?  Seriously, check it out.

Anyway, I’ll move on to the real topic of this post.  Except I don’t really have one. 

Work?  Has been super stressful lately.  The crazy (my clients) just seem to be getting crazier.  I mean, majorly.  They have been calling and calling everyday, and my patience is wearing SO thin.  People hire me and my firm to handle their problems and to give our best advice.  But still, they think they know better.  One of my clients told me “I know the law.”  Um, yeah, so do I.  I spend what is not an insignificant amount of time researching the law, reading cases, and writing briefs.  So as far as knowing the law goes, I’m pretty sure I have a leg up on my client.  But fine, don’t take my advice.  See where that gets you.

One of B’s friend’s wife, Emily, upon finding out that I am an attorney, said that she always thought that would be cool.  She likes her job in corporate America, but it isn’t like actually helping people like I do. 

The problem is though, that my job day to day is pretty fucking thankless.  There are rare moments when I am able to help someone, and they are grateful, and I feel the satisfaction of being of some use to someone.  But day to day?  It is like babysitting.  Like being a counselor or somone’s best friend.  But it can be very personally taxing.  I will listen patiently and sympathize while someone sits with me and cries about their problems.  But by and large?  I don’t have the ability to fix their problems.  At least not in any immediate way.   

I can file a lawsuit for you.  But I can’t help you pay your bills while you are out of a job and being a single mother to a little boy.  Maybe what I can get you eventually will make it all better.  But maybe I can’t get you anything or maybe it won’t solve all of your problems.  Sometimes it just feels like a heavy weight.

Speaking of heavy weight…..I’m finding that I SUCK at the weight loss.  Seriously bad at it.  Turns out I’m not good at deprivation of any kind.  I always let loose on the weekends.  Then I’ll get to Monday and tell myself that I’m going to be more serious about it.  Then IMMEDIATELY  I start whining (in my head) about how much it sucks that I can’t eat whatever is the current object of my craving.  I start feeling sorry for myself, thinking about HOW LONG it has been since I got to eat anything good.  Then I come back to reality and think, oh yeah, that was just yesterday. 

I need to step up my game.  And get over the fact that it is going to require some sacrifice. 

Any suggestions, dear readers?  Any good low cal/fat recipes?  Anything you like to do to keep in shape? 

But Corner Bakery and their 800 calorie chopped salad can fuck me. 

Good night!

Guilty Pleasures

Ok, we all have guilty pleasures.    Things we are embarrassed to admit in mixed company. 

Here are some of mine:

*The Hills

*Keeping Up With the Kardashians (because this flat-ass girl is intrigued by such nice big shapely asses). 

*The Bachelor (this is probably the one I’m most ashamed about)

*UsWeekly

*Cheetos

*Cold Stone Cake Batter Ice Cream with oreos and caramel

*Purse parties (ie fake bags)

*Smutty romance novels (as long as Fabio is not on the cover)

*Sleeping in the nude

*The hip abductor/adductor machines at the gym (it just feels good)

*Singing at the top of my lungs in the car (seriously, I’m good)

That’s all I can think of right now.

So what are yours?

Death Wish

Today I had a conversation with my friend Jaded that really bothered me.  That is not an unusual occurrence with Jaded, but this one bothered me more so than the others. 

She says she wants to die young.  Now, she never did tell me what she considered young.  But she kept saying “retirement age”, but that is still a pretty large range.  She figures that once she is no longer “useful”, she doesn’t want to be around anymore. 

I think that is a pretty insulting way of looking at retirement-aged and older people.     Also?  I think it is a slap in the face to all the people (at any age) who died before they felt it was their time.  Case in point – my grandfather died when he was sixty-nine.  He was diagnosed with lung cancer, had surgery, and died within 6 months.  Prior to his diagnosis he played golf everyday, went out fishing on his boat frequently, loved to play games, goofed around in church, and was pretty social.  We all loved to spend time with him – he was strong, he was fit, he was fun, he was smart, he had a sense of humor.  He loved life, and he always had a twinkle in his eyes.  His life was not sad or wasted or lonely.  Even now, eight years later, I cry on the spot everytime I think about the last time I said good-bye to him.     He was not ready to go, and we certainly were not ready for him to go.

Of course, I know that things get worse for people as they get older.  And some stories are much much sadder.  Some people die alone and lonely in nursing homes.  Some go slowly with diseases like Alzheimers.  Many people live for years with a very poor quality of life.  I get that. 

But to make a blanket statement that you want to die young because you don’t want to get old and no longer be useful?   I don’t know, it just seemed kind of…..luxurious to me.

Baseball, Flights, and Losers

So B and I took Friday off and went to DC for a long weekend. My mom, stepdad and sister live there, so we stayed with them. B planned the weekend because his Cubs were playing the Nats at their new stadium, so my mom got tickets through work for Friday and Saturday nights’ games.  Initially my mom had just gotten tickets for the Saturday game.  I had already told B, no, we are not going to both games – there are plenty of other things to do in DC, but my mom was really worried the game on Saturday would get rained out, so she got tickets for Friday so poor little B wouldn’t have to go an entire trip with no baseball.

Following is a bit of conversation between my mom and I at the game.  Keep in mind that my sister and I played softball for years, so she is not new to softball/baseball games.  But it has been a long time.  Here you go:

(Mom was complaining that baseball games are boring, and one of the Nats just got the first home run of the game):

Mom:  Oh, FINALLY somebody got a home run.

Me:  Mom, it is only the bottom of the first inning.

Mom:  Still, I’ve been waiting forever.  Hockey is way more exciting than this.

(And here, in about the 3rd or 4th inning):

Mom:  Hey, [J], how long are the halfs?

Me:  Huh?  Ma, this is not being timed.  

Mom:  No, I mean, when is halftime?

Me:  Are you new or something?  This is BASEBALL, there is no halftime. 

Mom:  Oh, that’s right.  This really doesn’t move as fast as hockey.

Me:  Mother, enough about the hockey already!

 

Anyway, we had a good time.  This is the first time that B and my family have been able to spend any real time in each others’ company (and now that I think about it, it is also the most consecutive time he has ever spent in MY company).  I think it went well.  B is very easygoing, and he is easy to please.  The weather is beautiful, so we were able to do some sightseeing, which I’ve done before, but it is always nice to do again.   Also we did some Wii playing (tennis and bowling), and I’m ashamed to say that I am too out of shape even to play the Wii.  My tennis arm hurt for a couple of days, which is pretty pathetic for a girl who was the captain of and the top seeded player on her tennis team.  But hey, I’m not as young as I used to be.  What can you do.

B and I had some tense moments at the airport.  As I’ve mentioned before, we have very different traveling styles.  B is a nervous flier, and he likes to be at the airport at least 2 hours early.  I, on the other hand, prefer to go at the last minute (partly because I don’t want to sit there and wait and partly because I’m just always late, everywhere I go).  Usually when we travel, I just go along with B’s plan, because both times we have flown, he has paid for my flight with his miles, so I feel like I should accommodate him. 

But on Sunday afternoon, I was just running behind, and as I was trying to get ready, he kept telling me, “babe, we really need to go”.  The second time (as I was packing), I said, “what the hell do you think I’m doing here, just fucking around?”  And I didn’t use my nicest voice.  So I was kind of irritated.  When we got to the airport, through security, and sitting on the tram to take us to the other side of the airport to the gate, I told him “[f]or the record (we attorneys are always concerned about “the record”), I have never missed a flight.  Not ever.”  He, in turn, told me “I just don’t like to cut it close….for the record.”  He didn’t use his nicest voice either.    So I silent treatmented him for a while (I know, so mature).  I don’t think he minded.

But by the time we got on the plane, we were both over it.

In other news, B and I and my Mom and Stepdad decided to have a Biggest Loser Couples Edition competition between the four of us.  All of us would like to lose some weight and just be healthier in general, and wanted to have an incentive to do so.  So tomorrow it begins and it ends on Labor Day.  I’m not so much looking forward to it, but being a little slimmer for summer would not be a bad thing.  Today I lived it up and I had a burrito for lunch (and the other half for dinner) and then walked uptown for some Cold Stone.  Mmmmmmm. 

So now I’m trying to dream up some healthy meals to cook.  This is tricky, since I’m not crazy about a lot of vegetables.  I’m better than I used to be, but still not that great.  If any of you have ideas, I’d love to hear them. 

Hopefully this competition won’t cause problems for B and I.  Already he told me that he thinks I’m the weakest link (note – I just read through this post about 3 times before I realized I had that written as “linkest weak”) ,  because I don’t work out regularly like he does.  I asked him what was so great about working out 4-5 times a week and never losing any weight (like he does)?  How does that make him better than me?  But I think it will be ok.  He and I like to cook together on the weekends when I’m there, so we can work on making healthier choices and think of some fun physical activities to do together (besides the obvious, of course).   And if we win, we’ll have a little more cash in our pockets!  I’m ready to bring my A-game, and hopefully B is too.   

Anyway, Happy Thursday!

Freaking me out…

So last night I was up at B’s house.  Now, I don’t normally tell bedroom stories, and I’m still not really going to do so here, but B said something to me last night that had my heart pounding for a moment. 

So we had just finished up in the bedroom, and I had gone to the bathroom to clean up.  When I came back, I noticed a huge wet spot, on my side of course (he always comes over to my side, for that specific reason, I believe).  Anyway, I said something like, “damn it, B, look what you did”.  Not seriously mad, of course, I just like to give him shit about it. 

Anyway, here’s what he said:  The cat did it.

*Crickets*

So I’m sure most of you are thinking, what’s the big deal, right?  Well, for those of you who are reading Kara’s interview with other bloggers, you probably saw the interview she did with Markalan.   Well, the interview contained a link to a post that Markalan had written about a very funny bedroom incident in which he and his wife told their child that the cat had thrown up on the bed. 

Oh, and I should mention that B doesn’t have a cat.

So I thought of Markalan’s post when B said the cat did it, because I just read it last week.  I thought, OMG, he’s seen my blog.  Which is ridiculous, of course.  Because to even have seen that post, he would have to read my blog, and Kara’s, and Markalan’s.   So then I stopped freaking out in my head, because it just isn’t that probable.  I’m not even sure he knows that blogs exist.

But B?  If you are here?  Hi!  Love you!  Don’t go back and read the archives, k?

Hehe.

Random though, no?

« Previous entries