Oh hello there, Internet. I didn’t see you.
So… I went on vacation for two weeks. And aside from popping in occasionally to whine about my upstairs neighbors or beg you to be nice to Internet people I love but do not know, I have left you with nothing.
For that, I apologize.
And yet, I have nothing to offer you aside from some sad little bullet points. Let’s get this over with, yo.
– My mom would like to know: What is the opposite of “slumming”?
– There’s something about the grocery store that makes all logic and sound reasoning fly out the window. Case in point: I very clearly remember my brain saying the following, as though it made complete and utter sense:
“Go ahead, buy the cheesecake. It’s not like you’ll eat it!”
– My husband and I recently Netflixed Breaking Bad. We’ve made it through the first three episodes. I know it’s a highly acclaimed show yada yada, but I am just struggling so very hard with the premise. (Which is, in case you don’t know, chemistry teacher decides to become a meth cooker.) (At least that’s the premise of the first three episodes.)
It’s a little weird that I have so much trouble with this. A violent, adulterous, amoral Mafioso I am okay with. A bloodthirsty serial killer I can get on board with. A drug-addicted, mean-spirited doctor I love. But a meth cooking chemistry teacher? Nope. That’s where I draw the line.
I mean, apparently.
– So… I joined Twitter. And now I have no idea what to do with it. I feel like I’ve been given a back-stage pass to the hot after party… but now that I’m standing in the door, I don’t know who to talk to or what to say or where to stand or what to do with my hands and oh my god WHAT am I wearing?
– So far, I practically have a panic attack every time (3, at last count) I “make a Tweet.” Yes, yes, I have a tendency to over-think things. (You: Shocked.)
– Do you remember being in elementary school or middle school and being friends with the Super Popular Girl (or maybe you WERE the Super Popular Girl, in which case you will have no idea what I’m talking about) and she would choose you to sit next to her at lunch or call out for you to come join her in the reading circle during library time or ask you to come over for a sleepover on the weekend? And you were practically glowing in the light of her friendship (and, you know, popularity adjacency)? And then, all of a sudden, an interloper would move in and you’d find yourself sharing rope-handling duties while SPG jumped Double Dutch? And even though said interloper was perfectly nice and really had a perfectly equal claim to being friends with SPG… and even though you hadn’t been demoted to Nothing… you had clearly moved from being Right Hand Man to Left Hand Man? And sure, SPG still invited you to sit next to her and come over for sleepovers and whatnot, but you knew that Interloper would be there? And the whole situation was filling you up with bubbling, frothing envy?
Well, I’m dealing with that right now. And it’s stupid and I feel like an idiot and seriously I am NO LONGER TEN. But I am struggling against this rising tide of jealousy and I need to get a handle on things.
– In Breaking News: I have insecurity issues.
– I went to the Cheesecake Factory (I KNOW) with my husband and our friend the other day. CF has this new (or not – I haven’t been there in four years) menu of “small plates.” After consulting with the waiter about how small “small” was and how hungry I was, I ordered three: Stuffed mushrooms, crab cake bites, and a small salad. I asked him to bring out all three with the guys’ dinners.
Some other dude (ie, not the waiter) brought out my salad and the crab cake bites. He brought it before anything else. Like, well before anything else. Before he set the plates down, he did that thing where he said, “And the crab cake bites?” as he hovered the plates over the table, trying to decide where they should land. I said mine both times, since both were things I’d ordered. And when I said, “That’s mine too” to the salad, he gave me an incredulous grin and said, “I sure hope you’re going to share those!”
Screw you, food guy. Six quarter-sized crab cake balls and a very small green salad do not make me a pig.
– The guys, by the way, each got salads. But not normal-sized salads, oh no. Ginormous there’s-enough-lettuce-and-tortilla-strips-and-corn-and-beans-and-other-assorted-crap-here-to-feed-a-family-of-six-for-eight-nights-sized salads.
– People should NOT be allowed to comment on other people’s food. Unless it is to say, “Man you have good taste in food.”
Seriously. No commenting. I do not like people saying “Ew, you like that?” or “My, you are a healthy eater!” or “Getting your steak well done is ruining the flavor.” or whatever else they feel like saying about MY FOOD. That I ordered and plan on eating.
Just shut it.
– Speaking of Poor Waiter Behavior? (Which we were. A few bullets ago.) Putting your entire arm in my butter and on my bread while you are pouring water for my father is not okay. I don’t really feel like I should have to specify this. And yet… here we are.
– I finished the much-lauded Taking Charge of Your Fertility over the weekend. The consensus? I am not mature enough to read that book. It involved much eye rolling and, I’m not gonna lie, some snickering.
– My husband is halfway done with his fellowship interviews. Part of me thinks, PHEW. Part of me thinks, He’s only halfway done? Part of me thinks, He hasn’t had enough interviews what if we don’t match omg spit sandwich! Part of me thinks, Why couldn’t I have married someone with a nice, normal, steady job? Like an insurance agent?
– Apropos of nothing, Arrested Development is one of the all-time best shows ever made in the history of ever.
– Why does “apropos” have only two Ps instead of three? The silent S I’m okay with. But it’s not THAT different from “appropriate” to begin with. There’s no reason to drop a P to make it “fancier.” Stupid French roots.
– And as long as we’re speaking of ridiculous words, what is with “accouterment”? If there were a contest for words that should look MORE French than they do, “accouterment” would win, like, the Grand Ultimate Tiny Miss Royalty crown.
And now that this entire list has degenerated into utter nonsense, I need to go eat some cheesecake. It’s a perfectly acceptable breakfast food.
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P.S. Thank you so much for your kind words yesterday – to me and to the ladies I linked to. I appreciate it more than I can say.