Crazy ideas - even crazier on paper

I'm reading this fantastic book, Writing Your Dissertation in 15 Minutes a Day. I put off reading it for a while because I knew once I starting reading it I would actually have to start writing. When I explained my dillema to a friend, she offered to share with me a book she'd read on procrastination. I declined, saying I didn't really trust anyone who'd gotten it together enough to write a book to understand the depths of my procrastinating powers. But now I'm just putting off what I really want to write about...

Early on in the book, one of the exercises the author suggests is coming up with the craziest, most out-there titles for the dissertation/book you envision writing. I actually did this back in December and re-opened my "writing log" to find these little gems:

• If you’re not on meds then you’re the crazy one
  
• Going sane: pathways to therapy for the functionally depressed and anxious
  
• Got Prozac? The campaign for psychopharmaceuticals and how it’s changed the understanding and experience of mental illness in the United States
  
• Mental Health Consumption: What do you take?
  
• Cosmetic psychopharmacology: How being happy has become an issue of personal responsibility

And my personal favorite:

• Twizzlers may make mouths happy but Wellbutrin keeps me from strangling myself with the red licorice vines

I've got to check the book, but I'm pretty sure this is an exercise you keep to yourself and don't share with your dissertation committee.

Uggly

I do not like Uggs. They look very cozy and comfy, but they're just not for me. They look moderately reasonable on people with jeans and a big wooly sweater, but capri leggings and a denim mini-skirt, as they're frequently paired with out here on the West coast, just highlight their retardedness. I am on the hunt for a new cell phone (apparently my only two criteria - a) not sucking and b) costing less than $150 - are mutually exclusive), and there were so many tweens prancing around the Verizon store the other day texting their BFFs that I couldn't get to the actual phones. I thought, "If we could just clear all the Uggs out of this store my life would be a lot easier!" Although, to be fair, it wouldn't have improved the phone selection.

But I digress, because what I really want to direction my righteous indignation towards are these monstrosities:

Since I can't find the side-view, let me be clear about what you're looking at. This is a peep-toe clog with a knit upper and reindeer motif. Let's take a look at those adjectives again:

peep-toe clog knit reindeer

To see such words strung together to describe one object - the mind boggles.

Who, who, who would buy these? A Danish beer-maiden?

Where, where, where would one wear them? An apres-ski pedicure party? Does those exist? Screw it, even if they do, that is one event that clearly doesn't necessitate its own unique footwear (and this is coming from a woman who will buy a pair of shoes, and then plan the rest of the outfit around the footwear).

Compared to these Uggs look like a pair of classic black Christian Louboutins. Okay, I may have slightly overstated the case there, but these are pretty damn hideous.

Back at last

After a solid month of almost-non-stop travel I'm finally back at home. This "quaint sea-side village" (as Paul likes to call it) is beginning to resemble its Welsh namesake with the torrential downpours over the past few days. It gets confusing when you're in southern California with 3 British people, and they're saying things like, "it's absolutely chucking it down outside."

The other night we had quite the "storm." (Any weather condition that isn't sunny is referred to as a "storm" out here - quite funny.) The wind was really blowing so Paul got up to bring in the broom and bucket I had left outside. At the same time I heard the paper shredder start whirring. I started to get up to ask Paul what the hell he was shredding at 3 in the morning when I realized the power was flicking on and off - the newest bundle of joy in out house, the 40" HDTV - doing its little "blublublupa!" "blublubluha" greeting and closure on and off with the shredder.

And so today it's back to work. I refuse to turn on the TV for fear of catching coverage of "clusterfuck to the White House '08." If I hear anything remotely sounding like a discourse on the word "change" I'm going to go all Oedipus Rex and poke sharp objects into my eyeballs. The sharpest piece of commentary I've heard on the primary's came from Best Week Ever, when a guy said, "Hillary's crying cause some Negro is trying to steal her job." That about sums up the race right now.

In an effort to stay focused Paul suggested I divide up my day into 15 minute units, like Hugh Grant's character in About a Boy. Breakfast - 1 unit. Shower - 2 units. I've allocated 8 units to reading and 8 to writing. Time to get cracking, my blogging units are up.

Prince Harry

Not in the true sense of royal lineage, but to his mum - Paul's sister Sarah - he's certainly a little prince.



And the booties from his uncle's fabulous girlfriend are just too cute, much like little Harry James Lusher himself.

Signs

I'm always looking for signs to help guide me in life, probably because I'm so indecisive and generally don't trust my own decision making capabilities. Signs come in all different forms. Today, for example, I was looking for bedding online when I stumbled across this bag, which clearly wanted to belong to me.
It's also called a "Kaylie", which is my niece's name, so I'm taking it as a sign (even if it's spelled wrong).

I'm always looking for signs about my career - what I should be doing and where I should be going. Last weekend I saw my advisor at my friends' wedding. Just before the ceremony started Prof. X turned around to me and said, "I'm thinking about retiring from academia and becoming a tanguera. Not right away, but probably in the next 2 years." I think that's about as clear as a sign as I'm going to get. I have no idea what it means (hurry up and finish?), but it's definitely a sign.

And because signs always come in 3's, I'm taking the dropping temperature is a sign I need to make like LL Cool J and head back to Cali.

Overheard on the B25

My own contribution to Overheard in New York:

[on the B25]

Mother, to little boy picking his nose: Stop that. Do you think that's cute?
Little boy: No.
Mother: Do you want to be cute?
Little boy: Yes.
Mother (sweetly): Then stop picking your nose.

[Little boy resumes picking nose.]
Mother: I'm going to tell CJ, and he's going to throw you onto the train tracks. Now stop that.

True love

Femme bride: Sweetie, is it wrong that I want to touch the drummer's arms?

Butch bride: You can lick her arms as long as I can watch!

The more things change

I've noticed lots of changes have occurred since I was last in NYC,
There are new shops and restaurants, which is to be expected, but there's a new museum on the Bowery, the subway cars look cleaner (on the 4,5,6 at least), there are shiny new bus stops, and cabs are getting super fancy with TV screens and credit card swipers.

And then last night I stopped in a deli on my way home and paid $13.27 for a quart of milk, a box of cereal and a pre-packaged fruit smoothie.

Some things never change.

The opposite of "deficiency"

I just consumed 1,920% of the recommended daily Vitamin C intake. I fear I might birth a citrus fruit.

Why fly Delta?

After a lovely trip to Santa Barbara with Aunt Mary (which included a 6 1/2 hr death march around the downtown shops - I imagine it's what it would have been like for the Jews if the camps had been liberated by Cojo), I switched suitcases, repacked and headed to NYC.

The flight was more eventful than usual. Shortly after reaching our cruising altitude but before the initial beverage service a woman two rows behind me began having a seizure. She perked up after some oxygen, only to have her eyes roll back into her head a minute later. Clearly this was beyond the medical purview of the flight staff. There were two doctors on board - one didn't speak much English, and the other was the husband of the lovely woman sitting next to me. He had retired because of his inoperable brain tumor, and the couple were on their way to New York for a cruise around the world as he had only been given another 6 months or so to live. The whole situation was further complicated by the fact that the ill woman and her husband were Turkish, and it took a few minutes to find an adequate translator (fortunately the plane was connecting on to Budapest which greatly increased the likelihood). And did I mention that I split the back of my pants trying to help a girl find the camera she had dropped in the melee? A full rip seam-to-seam on the back of my thigh under my butt made me thankful I had opted for full coverage undies that morning.

After a quick emergency stop in Albuquerque, NM, we encountered some mild turbulence. Ironically, the woman next to me was watching CNN, and a headline flashed that 9 people had been injured by turbulence on an Air Canada flight. Shortly after, though, the head flight attendant came over to introduce herself. She's good friends Peter, one of the people I'm back in NYC visiting. She, along with the rest of the crew, were amazing throughout the entire medical episode, and I complimented her on how she handled the situation. She gave me a small travel kit, some Godiva chocolates, and offered me a drink.

Which brings me to the best part of the trip! Why fly Delta? They now serve Coke Zero.

Fools for Fashion

According to LOOK, PVC leggings are a hot Spring trend, and I actually saw them in a store this weekend. There are exactly 3 groups of people that can wear them:

1. cast members of Cirque du Soleil (and only while performing)


2. Olsen twins


3. people who make a living by performing sexual acts in exchange for money

And even then they don't look good.

I swear, if Sienna Miller was spotted wearing a bustier made out of bat guano it would become fashionable.

Family ties

I've always been a little preoccupied with what other people think of me, but particularly with my boyfriend's moms. Clearly I have my own mommy issues, there's no deep meaning I need to unearth, but I could have made it easier on myself.

Boyfriend #1, whose initials conveniently double for Shit Head, had a mother about as warm and fuzzy as barbed wire. She was well known as a Nazi among his friends, not letting him attend a boys only sleepover with parental supervision the week before he went to college. Unsurprisingly he went off the deep-end at school, the paradoxical but predictable outcome of the maternal lock down. Looking back I believe she's a nice woman, but at 16 she scared the ever living %&*# out of me.

Boyfriend #2's mom loved me, and appropriately gave him a stern talking to when it looked like he was messing things up (fair enough - I wasn't a perfect girlfriend but I was certainly a positive influence. Among other things I convinced him to go to college, taught him basic algebra, and corrected him on his misuse of the word "constitute.") She just wasn't really my type, though.

There were others - both boyfriends and their mothers - along they way, but nothing memorable or worth recounting.

Paul's mum is a lovely woman, but I've never been sure I have her seal of approval. The first time I met her we were having Easter dinner at a restaurant, I was so nervous about what to wear. I chose black trousers, a smart pin-striped blouse, and blakc flats. She wore jeans with denim-flower embellishments, which might not have had Stacey & Clinton's approval, but they were very cute. I've always had the lurking fear that she's a little more hip than me, given our respective ages and positions in life. I certainly scored some points when she came to NYC and I took her to Century 21. Paul hates the fact that I, like his mother, will walk through a store and randomly touch things without actually looking at them and/or having any intention of buying them - clearly we were both born to shop and Paul can't appreciate this innate sixth sense.

I've gotten to know Pamela better over the recent years, and I was mighty pleased with the discount we managed to score on the Coach bag she wanted, both for the actual savings and Pam's acknowledgement of my bargain-hunting skills. On New Year's day, while Paul abandoned me for his true love, I spent a quiet day with Pam in the house. I knew I had secured my place in her esteem when she let me in on a fantastic find of hers - Sophia's Replicas. Here's a site I can get on board with. Pam even showed me that you get additional discounts if you buy multiple items and suggested I get together several girls to make a group purchase (so if anyone's interested, let me know!). She has both a Prada and a Louis Vutton so I can vouch for their quality and real-looking-ness.

And now if you'll excuse me I have some catching up to do in my designer handbag collection.

Happy New Year

Happy 2008!

After being awake for over 24 hrs and traveling for the majority of that, I am finally trying to re-enter normal daily life.

Some highlights of the trip included:

• seeing Kayley and all of my family (even if I didn't get to see as much of either as I would of liked)
• flying business class on the international portion of the journey and getting upgraded to first class on the return (the socialist in me says, "you're treated as a worthier human being is you have more money," while the diva in me says, "I don't want to fly unless I can avoid coach!")
• finding Chomps are still sold, even if their price has increased from 10 to 15p (damn you, inflation)
• Paul revisiting his English roots. One moment, after surveying the transformation of many of Cambridge's fine, old man pubs into gastro-pubs, (or "wanker traps" as Paul likes to call them), he'd say things like "I remember when it was all fields around here." The next day, seeing the dreary rain outside, he muttered, "I miss me palm trees."
• meeting Harry, Paul's nephew, and Sammy, Paul's friends' son and Harry's cousin - cute, happy, healthy babies abounded!

(Un)fortunately - haven't decided which - the travels not over yet. This weekend I'm off to Santa Barbara for a girl time with the newly single Aunt Mary - watch out guys, she's a cougar on the prowl! - and then I'm heading to NYC sometime next week for Tey & Alice's commitment ceremony and visiting my peeps.

It's nice to be back, though, and I hope everyone's off to a good start for a suburbalicious New Year!!