how I learned to be an auntie

wonder which aunt was babysitting this weekend...

best. e-mail. ever.

live with Borat?

Our roommate Edgar is getting married in August, so Anne and I need to find a new roommate. My friend Brian matched me up with Anne and did a fabulous job. We're hoping for repeat good luck. Yesterday, we both sent out e-mails to our contacts looking for potential interest. Anne's friend sent this response:


HI –

MY NAME IS PINO, I WANT TO BE NEW ROOMATES!

I LIKE WOMENS – THEY ARE PRETTY AND I CAN HELP WITH THE CHORE AND THE MOUSES. ALSO, I FAVOR THE SEX. HOPEFULLY WE MAY HAVE IT?

PLEASE, CONTACT ME WITH YOUR FOTOGRAPHS SO WE CAN BE GOOD ROOMATES TOGETHER. I CAN COOK NICE THINGS LIKE STEW AND ALSO TOMATOS.

KISSES, PINO

PS I HAVE 3 CHILDRENS THEY COME TO VISIT ON SATURDAYS BUT ONLY WITH A CORT-POINTED SUPERVISE. ONCE I DESTROY SOME PROPERTY BUT IT WAS ACCIDENT.

And then, several hours later, followed up with:


HIIT IS PINO AGAIN – SO DISAPPOINT THAT I DIDN’T HEARD FROM YOU YET.

PLEASE LET MY KNOW AT HER EARLIEST CONVENYENCE, THANK U, I AM READY FOR THE MOVING DATES.

Sadly, he doesn't really want to live with us, but it's probably for the best - I'd be wetting myself laughing all the time.

equal opportunity dater

I have a date for Monday night.

The last guy I dated had a master's in international relations and a research job at an Ivy League university. He might (but might not) be writing a book on the politics of sugar.

This new guy has an ex-wife and a 9-year-old daughter. He might (but might not) be a drug dealer.

Clearly, I don't discriminate when it comes to "types". Maybe I should start.

the perfect day

I had a rather amazing day. I woke up during the 9 o'clock hour thirsty, but without a hangover, despite my best efforts last night. I went for a 5.5 mile walk/run (emphasis on the walking) in Prospect Park and got a little sun on my arms. I promised myself that if I ran the whole time in the park - the last bit of which is cruelly uphill - I could get a massage, which I did. My back and shoulder have been killing me, plus me thinks there might be some carpal tunnel issues arising because I keep getting numbness and tingling in my right forearm and hand - occupational hazard of academia, right up there with paper cuts. The massage was fantastic.

Afterwards I went for a little walk in my 'hood. There's a store that I keep wanting to go into but it's always closed when I go by. I ran by it's sister store this morning and saw a really cute pair of sandals, I've been on the hunt for new sandals, so I decide to try the one closer by. Jackpot! I love this store. They have super-cute stuff, totally my style, and reasonable prices. I got a tank top, a sundress, and a pair of sandals.

On my way home I got an iced coffee to round out the day. Now I'm going to pretend to do some work for a few hours until Anne gets home. She went home this weekend, and I've been going through withdrawal. She texted saying she was going to need to unwind, so we have a hot couch date planned for tonight with homemade sangria and guacamole.

I've been alone most of the day, but I was at a BBQ with my sociology peeps last night (that resulted in not 1 but 2 more facebook friends - score!), so it was fine chillin' on my own. And with Anne coming back tonight, it just might be a perfect day.

Hope everyone had a great long weekend, maybe even a perfect day!

no comment

No comments on that text message? Really? No one has anything to say about that? I forwarded it to a few friends and all pretty much responded the same way: "Ewwwww" or "Ew ew ew." It is also one of the funniest text messages I've ever gotten.

Jane and I were thinking up hypothetical replies, because, really, how does one reply to that?

I had, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Jane had, "How calories for faking it?" which I think is really good.

Any other thoughts? I promise I'll credit you in the book I write someday when this academic thing doesn't work out.

not-so-HBT update

After not responding to the "urgent" voicemail that HBT left a week ago Wednesday, I thought I was done with him. Alas, HBT must think otherwise, because yesterday I got this text message*:

Fun fact: orgasms burn 200 calories a pop!

Fascinating. I'll be sure to log them into the exercise journal I just signed up for at Fit Day,

*Note: Now, I've been known to send an inappropriate text message or two, usually after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, but just in case you had an urge to give HBT the benefit of the doubt, know that a) he sent this text message at 7:30 PM, and b) he doesn't drink.

not hot, not cool

A few weeks ago I went to a Kentucky Derby party. I'm sad that I've yet to find another place to wear the hat, but I'm confident that something will crop up.

The party was 5-7, open bar. Needless to say, by the time we were leaving, my whistle was sufficiently wet. We ran into some guys on the way out, and the hat apparently impressed one of them because we started chatting. The details of the conversation are fuzzy, but we exchanged numbers. He was entered into my phone has "Hot Brown Tom", because, well, he was hot, he was brown, and his name was Tom. Creative, I know.

We texted back and forth. Sunday night he called. He's 25 - strike one. I don't know why I've been meeting so many toddlers lately. Gotta stop wading in the kiddie pool. When I asked what he did, he said he majored in computer science but was now "taking classes" in biology, psychology, etc. at LaGuardia Community College. Um, that sounds like finishing you bachelor's to me - strike two. He lives in Queens - strike three. I'm not crossing boroughs for this kid. And just in case I had any thoughts about giving him a chance:

HBT: I can read minds.
Me: Oh yeah?
HBT: Yeah, I know what you're thinking about right now.
Me: Oh really, what's that?
HBT: You're picturing me naked.
Me: Wrong. I'm playing online solitaire.

While we were on the phone I still said I'd let him take me out, but I was busy all week, and he was away for the weekend. I was hoping all was forgotten, but the following Wednesday he left a voicemail. It was marked urgent - I didn't even know you could do that. I thought maybe the red exclamation point meant my voicemail was full. Nope, HBT had to tell me immediately:

Hey, someone randomly told me there was a super hot girl at this number, so you should call me. It's Tom. Lay-tah.

Yes, Tom, later. Later than never.

classroom diversity

Yesterday was the first day of class for my summer Sex & Gender course. Up until Friday around 4 PM I wasn't sure if it was going to be canceled because of low enrollment. I'm really suprised at the amount of diversity in my classroom.

I have students who have and have not taken other sociology courses.

I have an economics major and a film major.

I have a student from Israel and a student from Venezula.

I have a man and a woman.

I have two students.

There are 4 still technically enrolled, so hopefully the other 2 will show up tomorrow, or it's going to be an intense 6-week independent study.

sponge bob douche pants

Remember the philosopher? My roommate insists on calling him "spongey" after the microwave incident, and that nickname has morphed into Sponge Bob Douche pants. And not because he lives in a pineapple under the sea. Let me explain.

We met on the Saturday, he called on the Monday, and we had our first date on the Wednesday. To be totally honest, I thought it was going to be a train wreck. Instead, it was great. We talked non-stop, no awkward silences. Since then we've hung out a few times, including sober dates. Last Tuesday we were supposed to go see a taping of the Daily Show. Unfortunately we got cut - we were the last people to not make it in. The good news is we got bumped to a VIP list for another date. I joked that if he didn't want to see me again he could find a better date with the VIP seats. At least I thought I was joking.

We had some drinks, had some dinner, and came back to my place and hung out. He left around 11PM. I was disappointed, and he saw that, but assured me that he'd be "all mine" at the weekend. He also asked when I was going to make him dinner. And then....

...Nothing. I don't hear a word. All week.

Sunday - 3 in the afternoon - I get a text:

SBDP: How's life?

I respond 1.5 hrs later (I went for a run, then needed to shower, etc. I didn't want to text when I didn't have time to talk, because, you know, like a jackass I thought we might have a conversation.)

Me: Hello there. Good. What've you been up to?
SBDP: Getting caught in family/work crossfire, forgetting mother's day, etc. Now being happy that subway's screwy so I have an excuse not to leave my apartment. You? Finished w your other class?
Me: Sounds like fun. Finished class just need to finish grading. Not much else. Baking. Subbed mashed avocado for oil & it seems to have worked.
SBDP: Yum

That's it. That's all I get, so after about 30 min I decided to throw out some bait and see if he nibbled.

Me: So do we get to make bread or hummus or something any time soon or are you still holding out for a better Daily Show date?
SBDP: Yes, let's make bread! That sounds like fun. Gave to be during the week - important pub trivia tonight
Me: Well let me know when you can squeeze me in
SBDP: Tuesday
Me: sounds good. Good luck tonight
SBDP: Thanks

Okay, so let's recap. You didn't text me for 5 days, and then I got a "how's life?" That's the best you could do? Really? And when you finally decided to text me, you did it on a day you knew you couldn't hang out. Then I had to ask you if you wanted to do something. Awesome. I love scheduling my life around guys who can't be bothered to make time for me.

I know I sound psycho, and I hate it. If I overheard my own conversation, I'd make fun of me relentlessly. I hate that I finally start to have feelings for someone, and he pulls a total dick move. I've read He's Just Not that into You. I've seen the movie. I get it, and my self-esteem isn't so crippled that I'm going to throw myself at someone just because he's got a master's and can bake.

So we're hanging out tomorrow. We're making the stupid fucking bread. I know I have to leave my attitude at the door or it's not worth it, so this is me getting my bitch on and getting it all out.

Oh, and don't worry, there are other dudes in my boy-toy box. Updates on the horizon.

caution: avacado hazard

I have 2 ripe avocados at home, and I've been trying to think of what to do with them (besides guacamole - what, do you think I'm a culinary moron?). Totally not thinking about my soon-to-expire avocados, I was reading the NYT and clicked on the health section, where I saw this:

This is the way to cut and pit an avocado. I saw it on a cooking show years ago, and have tried it several times. It's not as easy as it looks. Last summer I was trying to do this. Because there's part of my brain that's not clinically retarded, I put the avocado on the counter. You don't want to slam a knife into something that you're holding! But I wasn't succeeding, and so I picked the avocado up. This is clearly where the other part of my brain that is defective took over. It was a bad move. I tried to stab the pit with the tip of the knife. Failing to do this, the knife slipped off the side of the pit, passed through the soft, ripe fruit, and sliced 2 of my fingers. It was categorically not good.

So let this be a warning. I'm thinking I should write the NYT and tell them they should edit that picture, or at least give a warning! (C'mon, coffee cups have to warn that the beverages they contain may be hot.) I'm also thinking I might puree the avocado and substitute it for oil when I make chocolate zucchini bread tonight. And I'm thinking I'll use a butter knife to cut the avocado.

say it with cupcakes

Inspired by my previous work combining statistics and baking, I made another cupcake mosaic* for my friend's dissertation proposal defense last week:

Unfortunately his advisor had the flu, so he didn't actually get to defend, but rescheduled for today. So as not to ruin the moment, I made him lick the check mark off the box next to ABD**. Someone suggested we freeze the PhD cupcake and save it for his dissertation defense, kind of like the top layer of a wedding cake. I've never really understood that tradition - if I want cake on my one year wedding anniversary, I'll just buy cake. Similarly, one's dissertation defense can be anti-climactic enough without adding a freezer-burned cupcake to the mix.

* Okay, calling it a "cupcake mosaic" may be a bit of an overstatement. It's no Lincoln/Obama, but you've got to start somewhere.

**For definitions of made up acronyms, see here.

mint julep anyone?

I am so working this hat into my weekly wardrobe.

star student

It's the end of the semester (thank Buddah, Christ, Allah, L. Ton Hubbard - whoever's listening). My undergrad stats lab is over, and last night was the second-to-last (penultimate if you will, I just don't get to use that word often enough) class for adult students. These last two weeks students are doing presentations of the research projects they've spent the semester designing.

Last night, one of my students off-handedly remarked during her presentation that she's from a very political family. (This was relevant because she wanted to study the efficacy of laws ennacted against human trafficking in Ghana - you know, like most of my students.) How political? This is her aunt!!!

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	M - Th 11p / 10c
Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
thedailyshow.com
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What the hell is this woman doing in my Social Science Research Methods class?!?