Marry Me a Little

Somehow, without even realizing it, I have turned 24. I suppose this makes me solidly in the dreaded zone of "mid-twenties" but at the same time, I'm not exactly living it up like reportedly you're supposed to. It's hard to live the Sex and the City lifestyle when you have Criminal Procedure at 8 a.m.

However, in what I assume is a plan to feed my insecurities and my worry about being left behind, a number of my friends have finished their higher education and moved on to what some might argue are bigger and better things, a higher purpose. Namely, marriage.

If Charlotte treated marriage as a sorority she was desperate to pledge, then I'm Alexandra Robbins, writing my treatise from the outside on the seedy underbelly of the real world of the sorority. It's all white dresses at the end of Rush and presents and joy now, just to sit around a year or two later wishing you could get out, but not wanting to have wasted all that money. That metaphor was pretty awesome, you have to admit.

As a single person of a certain age, by which I mean my age and more specifically me, one seems to be at a different wedding every day. Well, every weekend. And I just have to say, they're all the same. Some married people embrace this, the reality that they're not radically different because their cake is chocolate instead of white or they play "Shout!" first and then "Friends in Low Places." But there are a few people who must hear that because they made their bridesmaid dresses or had an ice sculpture that you've never been to a more unique expression of love than theirs. One thing holds true: all of these couples for some reason require a trash can that costs between $100 and $150.

Aside from suddenly requiring much more expensive things that do the same thing as the Wal-Mart version they currently own, some married people come back from their honeymoon having had a Stepfordesque personality change. But inexplicably, some people seem exactly the same.

The way I see it, there are only five different types of married couples.

#1: Mr. and Mrs. Joiner
The Joiners treat marriage as though it was an awesome night club they were dying to get into and finally they did. They're sure that this night club is the only one anyone could possibly ever want to go to, and so they try their damndest to get everyone they know in. Seriously, "guys and gals," you know this couple. You have coffee with them and they grill you about your dating life. They invite you over for dinner and his just-perfect-for-you friend from work just happens to drop by. The Joiners will not rest until everyone they know is in the supposedly perfect wedded bliss they wake up to every day.

How to Deal: The absolute worst thing to do is to get married. If you do decide to take the plunge around the Joiners, do not tell them. They will not hesitate to "help" you plan your wedding. And luckily, they had the most unique wedding that has ever been. I mean, they played three BonJovi songs!

#2: Mr. and Mrs. Ex-Communicator
Once the Ex-communicators got married, they became only able to socialize with other married people. Occasionally they lower themselves to hang out with engaged people, but only because they know they'll soon be in the club. These people treat marriage like a wall with a single door to which they have the key, and they're heading through and might see you again if you ever find the right combination. (Hint: try "saucy") Soon these people will have babies and playdates and you really will never see them again. Except for awkwardly in the mall one Saturday afternoon, you'll glimpse them going into Gymboree while you're picking up a new whisk at Williams Sonoma. You will, of course, hide in the pots and pans. Here's a tip: Colanders don't provide as much protection as you might think.

How to Deal: Once you fully realize the impact of their dearth of friendship, get really drunk, bitch about them in a bar, and then be done with it. Classmates: they'll call you again when they need a divorce lawyer. You will, of course, let it go to voicemail.

#3: Mr. and Mrs. Joined at the Hip
You used to either just grab pedis with Mrs. Hip or grab a beer and some wings with Mr. Hip at the bar. But now, you can't have one without the other. You call Mrs. Hip to see if she wants to go for coffee and she of course says, "Sure, we'll be there!" Inwardly you sigh. But what can you do? You are left with the only option, which is, of course, describing some horrible faux gynecological struggle to your friend in front of Mr. Hip so that he never wants to spend time with you again, or alternatively, for the menfolk, throwing around the c-word and phrases like, "I'd hit that" when Mr. Hip brings along the little wife to guys' night.

How to Deal: Grin, bear it, and secretly hope they turn into Mr. and Mrs. Ex-Communicator.

#4: Mr. and Mrs. Pity, Party of Two
Mr. and Mrs. Pity Party genuinely feel bad for you. Isn't that nice of them? Will you ever know the joy of potentially having to compromise your person to commit to one person's ideal of you for the next 50 years? And, most importantly, will you ever get a $300 blender? Mr. and Mrs. Pity Party spend a lot of time talking amongst themselves about how sad and lonely you must be, simply because you haven't found the joy that one very expensive party and a permanent person responsible for taking out the garbage can bring a woman.

How to Deal: Tell them all about your fabulous Sex and the City lifestyle. Embellish if you need to. They're just jealous that you get to sleep with a different person every night, even if you don't. And besides, their concern for you gives them something to talk about to keep their marriage alive. You're doing them a favor.


#5: Mr. and Mrs. Exactly the Same
If you didn't own 8000 pictures of yourself in a big poofy hideously colored dress, you would totally forget they had gotten married. Often the Sames lived together before they were married (sinners!) or you were already friends with both of them, and their marriage in no way affected your life. Or really theirs. Aside from the giving and receiving of a $100 lint roller. The Sames embraced the concept of non-unique weddings, had a white cake, danced to a sappy love song, and Mrs. Same of course said, "the best thing about this dress is that you can wear it again!" Theirs is the marriage you want to have because you don't want to lose all your friends when you tie the knot, right? Sadly, this is also the marriage everyone thinks they have, when my independent research has shown that only about 1 out of every 10 couple has this marriage. How odd.

How to Deal: While comparing every other married couple you know to them, breathe a sigh of relief that someone hasn't gone crazy. At least until babies start coming. But that's another blog for another day.


One final word of advice on dealing with the married: If you walk into a couple's home and above their sofa is a framed black and white picture of their wedding rings inside a flower, run.

Living in the Land of the Lost

Occasionally, I lose things. Some of you might think I've lost my will to blog or blawg. But this is in fact not the case at all. I have lost the time to blog/blawg, but I will persevere.

But really, when I say I lose things, I refer mostly to things like the debit card I lost on my birthday, or that I'm constantly losing things inside my own house, or the fact that I cannot hold onto a tube of Burt's Bees to save my life. Hell, I even lost my cat once. (This one not technically my fault, as he fell through the window screen and subsequently hid under the nearest shrub until he was found. No seriously, that happened.)

Anyway, because I would not like to lose the Earth and would like to lose weight, I'm pretty much trying to walk everywhere. Well, within reason. Reasonable= walking a mile to Kroger. Unreasonable= walking to visit my grandma in Cincinnati. Surprisingly, the thing about walking is not that no one respects crosswalks. (This just in: it's bad to hit pedestrians.) But rather the thing that amazes me is the volume of lost items that I see on sidewalks.

I always wonder: how does one lose just one shoe? I'm guessing that probably it doesn't go like, you're walking along and you decide that instead you'd rather hop on one foot. And it's unlikely that you just don't realize you lost your shoe. I imagine it's probably more likely that lost shoes are because of one or more of these scenarios:

1. While being chased by a large animal, possibly a moose, you are running so quickly your shoe falls off and you are unable to retrieve it, due to mortal peril.
2. That girl from the Michael Phelps commercial is in such a frantic race to hear the "hilarious stories about how much he loves Chinese food" that she doesn't have time to go back for her shoe.
3. It's Christmastime and Dutch children came through and got confused about where to leave their shoes to be filled by Sinterklaas.
4. While running late for a class, for example, Criminal Procedure (I hear sometimes people have trouble getting there on time), a biker was too weighed down by trivial things like shoes and was forced to throw them off to increase his or her speed.
5. You were hungry and threw it in an unsuccessful attempt to get the pizza delivery man ahead of you to stop and "loan" you a pizza.

Random lost shoes aside (and underwear! who loses their underwear!), there are a number of things in our lives that are very easily lost:
1. keys
2. socks (Seriously, where do they go?!?!?!)
3. virginity (See entry: Tequila Law)
4. mind
5. way
6. boys (See work of fiction: Peter Pan)
7. umbrella (See: my life)
8. marbles
9. sponsors (See every plotline of the short-lived post-West Wing semi-autobiographical Aaron Sorkin series Studio 60. That's right. Six people got that joke.)
10. sunglasses (Though, always the nice ones. The cheap ones from the Rite-Aid stick with you forever.)

There are a few things though that we should try really hard to lose:
Bad Attitude. Now, I am a wholly positive person and never have a bad attitude about anything. But I have noticed that some people might at times be crabby or cranky. Today when I was walking at the Arboretum, I kept passing the same woman who never once said hello, smiled at me or even looked at me. I was outraged! Our collective bad attitude is weighing us down, giving us eye circles, probably causing global warming, and, of course, forcing us to stress eat, and that is, in a word, abominable. Some ways to lose your bad attitude: play with a puppy, download the iPhone application that compliments you, watch Big Brother (you'll feel so much better about yourself!), watch something with Kermit the Frog (it is undeniably impossible to not be happy while watching The Muppets), or for some of you, watch a Fox News Special on Sarah Palin (I hear anyone can be president if they want it badly enough!)

Unspeakably Awful Christmas or Birthday Gifts. Last year for Christmas my dear sweet grandmother gave me a giant pillow made almost entirely of awkward denim patches. With a pocket. With a bandana in it. And I love my grandma, but that is just... well, in a word, abominable. Some gifts are easier to lose than others though, which presents a degree of difficulty for the losing. For example, how does one lose a pillow? I tried to leave it in my old apartment when last I moved, but fortunately my mom was looking out for me. Way to go, Mom! Some things are easier to lose than others: ugly sweaters can be "left" at the gym, terrible bags can be "left" on vacation, and remember: sometimes things get broken. Accidentally of course.

And there are some things you should try really hard not to lose:
Your Driver's License. It's just a huge hassle. I mean, you have to go all the way downtown, find a place to park. Then you have to go to the DMV, where they yell at you that they only take cash the second you walk in the door. As if the 40,000 signs posted around the room weren't enough to tip you off. Then you have to go to like 8 windows. All of which are inhabited by people who yell at you to go to the next window. However, at the DMV in Fayette County, there's a guy who looks like Elvis. So there's that.

The Remote. Why would you want to walk all the way to the tv? Picture this: you've sat down with your jumbo popcorn and pint of Ben and Jerrys to watch The Biggest Loser and BAM no remote. I mean, why even bother to watch tv if you have to manually change the channels? Might as well go work out if you're going to do that. Wait... nah.

Touch With Reality. This is probably the most important. Because no one wants to be served burgers by a guy who thinks he's on Entourage, a hairdresser who thinks she's America's Next Top Model, or a lawyer who thinks he's God. And there are a lot of those. I mean burger flippers that dream of Ari Gold's life, of course.

Is Something Different?

So I suppose the polite and nice thing to do would be to make up some sort of excuse as to why I didn't blog for, oh, most of July. But then I thought, no. The Leader of the Free World spends most of August on his dude ranch (Heeeey Dude) and damnit I deserve a vacation too. I mean, I at least phoned it in with that pseudo-lame ADT entry. The only way to get W in from clearing brush and mucking stalls is to tell him there's a good opportunity to start a war. (Incidentally, telling him Laura is back from the grocery store and she bought Twinkies also works.)

However, now, without me even noticing, it has somehow become August. And while terrifying in and of itself, I realize that I have missed some moments of contact with each of you, and most importantly, you, my loyal readers, have been unable to obtain knowledge and interact with me on a weekly basis. And for this, I will apologize.

You may have noticed that this blog is blue now. If you didn't notice that it is blue rather than brown, you might want to consider having some sort of medical care either immediately or at least within the next 48-72 hours. Can't let those head injuries go for too long. You never know what might happen to you. (Insert easy Bush head injury joke here.)

A number of things have happened in my life since we last conversed, or at least you were last forced to listen to/read my musings on a bizarre topic. What's happened lately:

• --rediscovered my love for Journey
• --became unreasonably good at the clown game on Wii Carnival Games
• --half-assedly learned to be ethical
• --turned my blog blue
• --developed an addiction to Chili's
• --spent an entire afternoon watching drunk people attempt to swim
  
• --cut my viewings of Superbad down to bi-weekly
• --took multiple online vacations, as it was all I could afford the time and money for
• --Shark Week
• --remembered success at avoiding Napoleon Dynamite and decided to try not to see The Dark Knight
• --purchased multiple items I could not afford
  
• --learned from John McCain that Czechoslovakia reunited- so excited!
  
• --considered taking a trip to Czechoslovakia but found the building of time machine to be cost prohibitive

But the most important thing that is happening in my life, or actually in the world's life, is that the Olympics start this week.

China is really really going all out for this experience. In the equivalent of a college student hiding the booze and pushing all the dirty laundry under the bed when their mom is coming, the Chinese government has instituted a series of reforms:

• +This past week they asked restaurant owners to make the ultimate sacrifice and remove dog meat from their dishes while there are those visiting their country who might prefer to cuddle a puppy rather than digest one. However, they are still allowed to serve donkey. So, don't worry. It's just donkey.

• +Unfortunately, our athletes and athletes all over the world seem to be concerned about silly, insignificant things like being blown up by terrorists before their competition, or breathing in a plethora of pollutants. However, China has made sure that the coughing, bleeding athletes will not feel awkward. Never one to allow their citizens to act of their own volition, posters have been placed all over Beijing, reminding each person of the "Big 8"- the eight things never to ask a foreigner: age, salary, love life, health, income, political views, religious beliefs or personal experiences. Because if there's one thing I hate when I'm visiting a foreign country, it's when the friendly citizens walk up to me and demand to know how long it's been since I've had sex. Such a frequent problem! Thank you China for meeting my needs.
  

• +China is graciously agreeing to spare us from seeing the more unsavory portions of their country, closing the basement door so we don't see their storage boxes and dirty laundry. China wants you to stay in the living room. And never never never open the door and peek in at Tibet.
  

• +Finally, China is willing to say what we're all thinking. Keep those people with "mental diseases" away from the Olympics! Here's hoping Team Spirit isn't a mental disease. Though, I guess it depends on the team. Canadian shotputters? Who cares. I'm saving my enthusiasm for the 2010 Jamaican Bobsled Team.
  

In honor of the work that the Chinese government has done, perhaps we should all celebrate the Olympics like the Chinese. So I urge you, for the next two weeks: be overly polite to any new people you meet, oppress the people you already know, and pin all your hopes on Yao Ming.

This bLAWg Protected by ADT

So first of all, let me just say, shut the hell up. In the past few weeks, you might have noticed that I have neglected my blog. In fact, most of you noticed. And most of the most gave me a hard time about it. I appreciate your loyal readership, I do. But, come on people, it's summer!

Let me tell you a little about what I've been doing with my summer vacation. (Vacation! Ha!) In addition to working and studying (um, I have to take a final in like a week!), I have been walking every day and exploring my neighborhood. You learn and see a lot of things when you walk around (usually through getting hopelessly lost). Today alone I saw three people fixing their cars and a group of people playing Beer Pong in their open garage. (You would think after the first few times they had to chase the ball into the street, they would have shut the door.) I have seen baby ducks, countless bunnies, and have, of course, been pooped on by a bird.

Despite getting to know things like where the shortcuts are and the wisdom of skipping the nightly walk when it is going to rain, I have also marveled at the sheer number of people boasting they have an ADT security system. And to them, I would like to say two things: First of all, where do you get off making me feel bad because you think your stuff is more important than my stuff? Secondly, how do I really know you have that fancy schmancy security system anyway? Maybe you just have the sign.

But then I got to thinking, and here's the part where I sound like Carrie Bradshaw, we are all really obsessed with security. I'm not sure if it's an American thing, or a human thing, but we use security as an excuse for everything.

Take guns for example. We say, "I need a gun to keep my house and my family safe." I read somewhere reputable there are statistics that show that gun ownership makes you more likely to be a victim of violence. So why do we lie? Why not just say, "I need a gun because I f-ing love guns."

Sometimes you hear about women getting married for security. And really, what does that even mean. I've long since given up on the notion that men provide protection in the night, after a certain former significant other woke me up to inform me someone was trying to get in my front door and I should go check it out. Is it money? Because I'm pretty sure we don't live in a country anymore where women have to have husbands to survive. Turns out we can go and get well-paying jobs on our own. And almost as well-paying as our male counterparts!

If this blog were in any way political, I might mention here that we like security so much that we are willing to give up our fundamental rights and tenets on which this country was built in order to achieve so-called security. We gave up our right to privacy so that the Department of Homeland Security (there that word is again) could put up a bunch of plastic ADT signs around the edges of our country.

We have security in our possessions. We take comfort in knowing that we have cars that will take us where we need to go and when they don't work, we are uncomfortable and upset. (I can personally attest to this, as it was my morning.)

We find security in the weirdest things. I've noticed the last few nights that I am not afraid of noises I heard outside because I have the big black dog. Granted, when we were walking last night, she hid behind me because she was afraid of chihuahuas who, aggregate, were less than a quarter of her size. Not exactly a ferocious watch dog, but if the Bush Administration is proof of anything, it's that Americans enjoy the illusion of security. (Oops, not political.)

Where does this even come from? You are without a doubt wondering, what causes America, as a whole, to be insecure?

Here are, as I see it, Three Reasons America is Insecure:

1. Abandonment Issues. In the early days, those who are now Americans came from multiple other countries. And then what did those countries do? They just gave up on us. They just allowed us to become our own country, out in the world on our own with not so much as a word goodbye.

2. Teenage Angst. Clearly for the last roughly 200 years, America has been in some sort of pro-tracted teenage rebellion. We were merely ornery pre-teens before that whole unfortunate tea spillage incident. And now, without the guidance of adult countries, we've been left to become the schoolyard bully. And as everyone who has ever watched an after-school special knows, bullies are the most insecure of all of us.

3. Poor Body Image. America has never thought it was nearly as pretty as any of the other countries. We have mountains and valleys everywhere, odd angles on our edges, and we can never find clothes that fit right. Speaking of which, our clothes are not as nice as France's, and our hair is not as shiny as Sweden's. We must take comfort only in that we have better teeth than England. Our poor body image is clearly causing us to act out. Why do we hate Osama bin Laden? I heard it's because he told his friends on the basketball team that he didn't think we were cute enough to ask to the prom.

Probably America needs to seek some group counseling to get over our clinging to things that make us secure (i.e. guns, religion) and we need to work through our issues and learn to be confident in ourselves. Or some New Age crap like that. Could the same effect be achieved by listening to a lot of Enya? Probably. But then the Country Psychology Industry would be dead. Besides, look what Country Therapists did for Germany. They used to be harsh and warlike, and just totally unfuckable. But now... well, they haven't been in a war in 60 years. So there's that.

You Heard It Here First

Up until now, I've avoided being outwardly political, except for a few asides and candidate mentions. And now that my candidate of choice has walked the plank of the Good Ship Presidential Clusterfuck (Mike Gravel, I miss you so!!), it is likely that I won't state which candidate I'll support from here on out. Though, I will openly admit to you that I think Libertarian Party Candidate Bob Barr has one bitchin' mustache. But at the end of the day, it doesn't matter to whom my vote goes in November and that is because of this one simple fact: The next president of the United States will be, without a doubt, John McCain.

For many months, the strategy of the Democratic Party has been to show buddy buddy pictures of McCain and our current illustrious commander-in-chief one Mr. George W. Bush. (Perhaps you've heard of him.) The phrases we're hearing over and over and over and over again are "four more years" and "more of the same" and though I, for one, am seriously getting sick of hearing it, it's all but ensuring that John McCain, he of the freakishly old mother, the awkward pictures with male colleagues, and the Early Bird Special, will be our next president. The Democratic Party is forgetting one very important thing. For the American people, "more of the same" is practically our battle cry. "More of the same" is the entire basis of our society.

When was the last time we had a new fast food restaurant? We're perfectly happy with a half a dozen national chains and a few regional specialties we can brag about having back in our hometowns. We like the same dozen movie actors and we spend our days watching the same three major television networks, occasionally switching over to Fox if we really want to slum it.

And it is these tv networks that truly embody our "less is more, more is terrifying" strategy for living our lives. There are, as of the time of this writing, only 5 different television shows. And certainly a group of people who can't handle more than 5 premises, can't handle breaking in a new president. Change is bad, and not only can television network executives clearly count on and exploit this mentality, but so can John McCain. And, with careful planning and promotion, it can be through these 5 television concepts that Senator John McCain (R, AZ) will drive 35 mph in the fast lane all the way to Pennsylvania Ave.

#1: The Crime Drama
It's a little after 8 on a Tuesday and there are, on average 495 million television sets turned to some sort of crime drama. (This total includes all 6 tvs in Cuba.) Roughly 2/3 of these are tuned to some form of Law and Order or CSI, but a fair amount are viewing some of the off-brand crime dramas such as Without a Trace, Criminal Minds, Cold Case, and The Ghost Whisperer (not technically a crime drama, it's just a crime that show is still on). Even though we've exhausted the types of crime to dramatize, we continue to have these episodes. Pretty soon they'll be down to those obscure laws about things like not hunting whales in Oklahoma (real law). In the season opener of CSI: New York, they investigate a man's curious motive in jumping the subway turnstile. Spoiler Alert: It's because he doesn't want to pay!
How McCain can capitalize on this: by playing the ubiquitous Law and Order "dunh dunh" after any important point in a speech or by pausing occasionally after outlining a policy, looking in the distance thoughtfully and putting on his sunglasses

#2: The Talent Show
America doesn't really have talent, clearly, but we have 80 million televised talent shows that seek to capitalize on our dream of being noticed for that weird secret talent we have or for the "great" way we sing. My question is: If every one of these shows is finding the biggest talent in America, then which one of these "winners" is really the biggest talent? Shouldn't there be some sort of runoff?
How McCain can capitalize on this: Each of the potential vice-presidential candidates brings his own unique factors to the table, and while some might consider things like a significant vetting process and compatibility with the candidate to be the most important ways to determine an appropriate running mate, John McCain thinks America can decide! True, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal is young and charismatic, but he can also juggle. But can he beat out former Governor of Massachusetts Mitt Romney's top notch beat boxing? Fun fact: Bush used this method to choose his cabinet. Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao was the only contestant that could spin plates.

#3: The Show Where Everyone Lives in a House And Forgets There Are Cameras
From back when The Real World was worth watching (remember Seattle?) to today's Big Brother, America loves the show where everyone lives in a house and are watched 24/7, then edited together to make them seem really exciting and/or contentious. We've even added new twists like a whole bunch of washed up celebrities living in a house, or weirdos who are obsessed with training dogs living in a house, and we even sat through several seasons of an unintelligble Ozzie Osborne leading a household of crazy persons and dogs.
How McCain can capitalize on this: The Mac will put his potential cabinet members in one house and let the booze flow and the cameras roll. If they can work together to put on a radio show, or do promotions for a night club, or book entertainment for their local surf apparel shop (You can tell which seasons of The Real World I watched) then they can for sure work together to run a country. Downside: Elizabeth Dole might be the one that always walks around naked.

#4: The Show Where the Husband is a Doofus, the Wife is Sort of a Bitch, and the Kids are Incorrigible
Call it the Homer Simpson effect, but America loves this format. From Roseanne to Everybody Loves Raymond to According to Jim, it's always a hit. And really, America, really? Who wants to watch a show about what happens in 90% of the households in America? Apparently we do.
How McCain can capitalize on this: With a slew of undoubtedly incorrigible children and a wife that sort of gives off the bitch vibe already, (can't blame her, you'd be a bitch too if your hair was always pulled back that tight) McCain is poised for some gentle comedy. Sample dialogue:
Cindy: How was your day, dear?
John: It was okay, the usual. I just can't get us out of this war.
Cindy: Well, I told you not to start back up with North Korea. You know how I don't like that little crazy leader they have. Why don't you ever listen to me? And why don't you ever take out the garbage?
Little Jack: Dad, can you sign my permission slip? We're going to the zoo tomorrow!
Cindy: Not now, Little Jacky, Dad has to take the garbage out.
John: But Cindy, I just got home from a long day leading the free world.

#5: The Show Where Twenty-Something Friends Go Through Relationships and Job Crises All While Hanging Out at Their Local Bar, Restaurant, or Coffee House
Friends set the bar high, and few shows have been able to match the sheer mania of those 10 years in the 90's and early Aughts (I'm trying to make that happen) but many shows have tried, most recently How I Met Your Mother. America loves the idea of an even number of attractive people living in apartments they couldn't possibly afford, living glamorous lifestyles, and having complicated sexual relationships with each other. I mean, what middle aged housewife didn't gather up her girlfriends a few weekends ago and head to see the Sex and the City movie, gleefully bragging, "I'm a Miranda!" No, you're a Delores. And the "city" is New York, not Cleveland.
How McCain can capitalize on this: Well, here is where he runs into a problem. Being not at all young and hip, he wouldn't exactly have an in with the under 30 crowd. Perhaps he could do a cameo as one of the kids' loveable and dorky dads (or grandpas) in for a visit to the big city. He maybe could play the bartender, but he'd have to stay awake past 10:00... and he probably doesn't drive at night. But hey, no harm in letting a few opportunities slide to the Obama column. This is similar to his strategy in Florida.

Honorable Mention: The Hour Long Sexcapade Dramedy
I, and I think most of America, would not like to see John McCain attempt to capture America's lust for shows such as Desperate Housewives, Swingtown, Grey's Anatomy. Yeah, I think we're all just better off imagining The Mac is "firmly" in the Bob Dole Camp on that one. Pun Intended.



Note, Disclaimer, Hopeful Prevention of Encouraging Any Sort of Political Debate in My Comments Section: This was just a joke. It's when people get serious about politics, foresaking all lightheartedness or for that matter, reason, that people get hurt. It was not my intention to offend McCain fans, Obama fans, Bob Barr's fan, network television fans, reality show stars, or anyone except those who regularly watch The Ghost Whisperer. God burned down their studio for a reason people, let it go. Change the channel. I'm sure you can find a CSI rerun.

Yes, That Really Is a Picture of Me

So, being an adult really... in a word? sucks. I guess there's not any set way to know that you are an adult, and so I guess some people may never be, but, for me at least, there are some warning signs. I experienced a big one last week as I lay in my bed, filled with a ridiculous amount of joy at the fact that I was laying underneath the brand new ceiling fan that I had installed earlier in the day. I haven't yet fully accepted my adulthood and so the realization that I was overjoyed by something as ridiculous as a new, albeit amazing, light fixture was fully depressing.

There are, of course, a number of ways to tell if one is an adult, here are just a few:

• your planner, or day-timer, is divided by times of the day, and is almost always with you
• you watch the local evening news
• a sunny 70 degree day in June finds you indoors, hunched over your laptop
  
• you take a daily vitamin
• when you enter someone else's home, you're more jealous of their kitchen appliances than their games and fun electronics
• you see a preview for a children's movie (i.e. Kung Fu Panda) and you have absolutely no desire to see it
• you have any sort of faux flowers or plants in your home
  
• your new vocabulary includes words like, "fuel efficient," "mortgage" and "401k"
  
• decorative stores, like Pier 1 or Pottery Barn, fill you with as much excitement as a candy store or toy store used to
  
• you regularly read more than one news website or newspaper in a day
• you have staples in your pantry or kitchen cupboard
  

Now, chances are good that a number of you recognized some of the unfortunate signs above or have noticed one of the great many other signs in your every day life. And I'm sorry, that's really bad news. However, I think we are confronted on practically a daily basis by kidults. Kidults are, of course, those who seem to be adults but yet persist on approaching their day to day interactions with others as though they are children. Your mind undoubtedly flashed immediately to Josh, Tom Hanks' character in the classic 80's film Big. But, people, please, clearly we can give a free pass to those who are magically transported into the future. It's those that didn't wake up 20 years older overnight that are the real problem. Kidults.

But really, maybe the problem is that the rest of us try to act in a mature fashion. Kidults certainly wouldn't be noticeable if everyone dealt with every situation in exactly the same manner as they did 15 years ago. Perhaps we should consider this change! As always, I know you need some guidance, so I am here to provide it.

Common Life Situations in Which it is Possible to Opt to Kidult (oh yeah, it's also a verb.):

#1: Dining Out
Adult Method: Wait patiently for your table, then sit quietly and chat amongst your party while you wait for your meal. Use silverware and proper table manners.
Kidult Method: Complain loudly in the lobby that you have been waiting for hours as you pace or run around. After you get the table, drum or beat your silverware on it until you get your food, which by the way you should order with as many additional specifications as possible. Eat with your hands. Halfway through the meal, begin to whine and put your head down on the table until everyone else is ready to leave.

#2: Dating
Adult Method: Well, you know. Whatever works for you.
Kidult Method: See a person of the sex to which you are attracted at a bar. Quickly pull out your crayon and construction paper and write them a note, asking if they will be your boyfriend or girlfriend. For good measure, and the sake of tradition, you ought to throw in a "check yes or no." Ask a friend to take the note to one of the people The Object of Your Desire is with. Then, and this part is very important, surround yourself with your friends and giggle a lot, thus rendering it impossible for he or she to actually talk to you. It is additionally important that if you see him or her again, you turn immediately as red as a beet and never speak to them.

#3: Taking Care of Your Home
Adult Method: Find a decorative style and painstakingly add items of interest to your home. As far as household chores, do them in a timely fashion and don't allow laundry, dishes, and trash to pile up.
Kidult Method: Decoration? All you need is a box of crayons, some finger paint, and an hour. Security Deposit? Who cares! And don't worry about doing things like feeding your pets and cleaning your room. Your mom will come behind you and take care of it. Your poor dog.

#4: Work
Adult Method: If most movies and television are a barometer for the modern work place, you're probably not going to like your job. And you're definitely not going to like at least one of the people that you work with. Adults just have to deal with it. Grown-ups need money because grown-ups have bills.
Kidult Method: In addition to locking the door of their office for an afternoon nap, kidults refuse to play nicely with those they don't like. If, at the weekly staff meeting, a coworker offends a kidult, the proper response is of course to gather your charts and any handouts you may have provided and stomp back to your office and slam the door.

#5: Trips in the Car
Adult Method: Get in the car. Shut the door. Start car. Drive to destination. For longer trips, bring snacks and cds.
Kidult Method: Get in the car. Make sure to bring at least 4 things to do in the car (iPod, book, some sort of car game, toys). Drop at least 3 of these things out of reach as soon as the car begins to move and you're trapped in your seatbelt. Begin to ask how much longer this trip will last almost from the moment of ignition. Whine. Wait 5 minutes. Whine. Announce you have to use the restroom and it's an emergency. Constantly ask to stop at every place that looks interesting by the side of the road: world's largest bale of hay, world's smallest chicken, world's biggest staple remover, etc.

So get out there! Act like a kid again! It is a sure fire way to command respect from your friends, coworkers, and any stranger who sees you try to eat spaghetti with your hands.

Note: Yeah, the hair is really bad. But come on, it was the 80's. At least I'm not wearing my New Kids on the Block nightgown.

Depressed?

So, it's true. I am a horrible blogger who completely forgot, and two days in a row at that, to update her blog. The truth is, it's been sort of a roller coaster week for me: grades, primaries, class, work, and I've not known how I felt about something at any one time in order to present a coherent blawg about it. I'm sorry, I am imperfect. I am not even perfect by the man standard, much less the higher level of perfection that women are held to. But that is neither here nor there.

Even my blog file is running perilously low on ideas (Special thanks to Collin for vetoing the Collin Schueler's Day Off idea). Perhaps it's a summer slump or maybe it's writer's block, but I really just have nothing to say (This is also true of my Perspectives piece. Sorry Rosie, I love you, it's next.) And so the question becomes, write nothing of substance to appease my adoring fans or wait until I'm inspired to write my usual high caliber of genius commentary on the world. Clearly I should have waited.

The problem with the world is that all that's really going on is Political. And when I talk about things that are Political, I get in trouble/my opinion gets mocked and dismissed by others who seem to somehow know better than I the unique issues facing this whole uniting the democratic party thing. (This is why there was no blog on Wednesday.) And when I turned, as I usually do when I'm stumped, to the headlines to search for a topic, I found nothing but depression.

I mean, look at the CNN.com headlines right now:

1. CNNMoney: Stocks drubbed on jobs and oil
2. CNNMoney: Oil skyrockets as dollar slides
3. Obama, Clinton meet privately
4. Obama's dodge miffs press corps
5. Ticker: Edwards says no to being Obama's VP
6. Commentary: It's time for more Hillary Clintons
7. Commentary: Is best woman for job a man?
8. WCVB: DA: Unhappy sex drove murder
9. Navy missile intercept successful
10. Rescuers scour sea for lost divers | Ten minutes of terror in a diving paradise
11. WABC: NYPD guards building after climbs
12. Unabomber kin finds new 'brother'
13. 800 gallons of gas stolen on video
14. Mother: 'How could his heart just stop?'
15. Time: Who will rule the new Internet?
16. iReport.com: Your not so perfect weddings
17. Why Kathie Lee Gifford forgave adultery
18. Ed McMahon explains his mortgage mess
19. Holyfield's 17-bathroom home in foreclosure

So first of all 3-7 are out, as they are about the election and I have an opinion with apparently little worth, and let's face it, there are already enough places on the internet where people feel it's alright to spend hours commenting on things written by people they have never even met or bothered to meet (even perhaps despite being in the same school or classes) and there will be no outside ramifications. In life, people censor and think before they speak, but on the internet, people have no fear and are willing to type, or post videos of, anything. And that's why we have blogs in the first place (and youtube).

1, 2, 13, 18, 19 are just depressing commentaries on our economy and there really isn't anything funny there. Poor little old McMahon on the streets, waiting for it to finally be his turn to answer the door to the Prize Patrol, is not something I want to think about, and I'm sure you don't either.

8, 9, 10, 14- nothing with murder or missile or "ten minutes of terror" can possibly be entertaining.

Even my old standby, fark.com, brings nothing but stories of fallen soldiers, dead animals, and sadness. Well, plus one story about KMart making abstinence sweatpants (seriously, they say "true love waits" on the butt).

So I have no other option but to conclude that world is suffering from a moderate case of depression. Television would have me believe that the cure is Paxil, or a similar mood altering substance. I'm not sure how we'd go about that, short of having everyone in the world take paxil, and really there are a number of people with more pressing needs- like housing, food, clothes. (Though, I guess if they were on Paxil they wouldn't care that they were helplessly under the thumb of a military junta who did not mind that its citizens were homeless and diseased.)

Should the world seek therapy? Perhaps someone in a smart little pantsuit... like Barbara Streisand in The Prince of Tides? Or I think maybe there's a Bette Midler movie where she's a therapist... I guess what the world needs is a Jew in a Pantsuit to set us straight. (Hillary had half that down at least. So close!)

But maybe what the world needs is a little vacation, just a week at the Beach to rejuvenate. God knows I do.

A Natural Disaster I Know Nothing About

I am an avid reader of the news. In fact, I probably spend more time on CNN.com than I spend doing pretty much everything else in my life with the possible, but not likely, exception of sleeping. And so perhaps it comes with the volume of news I consume a day, but I have noticed a significant percentage of natural disasters lately. And no, not just some of the pantsuits Hillary wears, or the fact that 12 million people chose David C over David A, and not even the fact that ABC picked up Scrubs for its fall schedule (I mean, come on, that show won't die!). But no, for once I am actually referring to the true meaning of my words, literal natural disasters. Floods, tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, and cyclones seem to be hitting the world one right after another.

I'm only a moderately religious person, but a series of natural disasters, especially the prevalence of earthquakes (for no apparent reason) makes me surmise that it's probably getting pretty close to the end of the world. I don't mean to alarm you, but I think it's pretty much a given that multiple earthquakes in a short amount of time is merely a harbinger of the End Times. (To be fair, I think this every time and it hasn't happened... yet.) And so the question that inevitably comes to mind is why? Why is this the end of the world? (And why are you wasting your time reading a blog when you could be out doing something you've always wanted to do?)

Now, I'm not a religious scholar by any means, but I think I'm on the right track with this one. And really, when has being unqualified to answer a question ever stopped me before. I think there is probably not one real reason why the world is going to end soon, but that it's more a series of events that have led up to God just calling it quits. You know, like when you have a really bad day and then you come home, step up to the door to put your keys in your lock and you drop them, and also it's raining, and that just becomes the one thing that sets you off? So what was it? What is the one thing that caused God to throw up his hands and say, "me damn it!"?

Did his TIVO forget to record Lost? Did he go for the last box of Girl Scout Cookies only to find that Jesus had gotten there first? Kids today!

These seem unlikely choices, but really there's no way of knowing what that one little tip to the iceberg was. Fortunately, I have a number of theories.

The first and most obvious reason the world is about to end is because we have a lady and a black guy competing to be the president of the United States! This is obviously a catalyst for the End Times, which, actually, you might already know if you listen to conservative talk radio. Think I'm wrong? Remember those freak tornadoes we had earlier this year here in Kentucky? When did they happen? Super Tuesday. I'm not wrong. I specifically remember, as I ran for the bathroom under the stairs, turning the tv channel away from the election coverage to the weather coverage. And that is why God spared me.

Another potential reason the end is near is America's Got Talent. Because, let's face it. America doesn't. I mean, is it a coincidence that all our favorite bands are British? For those of you who haven't seen the show, it takes socially awkward people performing things they've described as a "clothes-changing magic act", dummies performing with dummies who think they're ventriloquists, and a bunch of family bands, and puts them up on stage to be judged, somewhat ironically by two British people and David Hasselhoff, who is only considered to have talent in Germany.

Did anyone beside me see that they discovered the purpose of Stonehenge today? Archaeologists have been searching for decades because science has long been concerned Stonehenge would turn out to be that most detestable of things: art for art's sake. But this week, they've discovered. Stonehenge was... wait for it... a cemetery. I'm sure that you, like me, felt an understandable let down. Is there no mystery left? What's next? The Lost City of Atlantis will be discovered just east of Cleveland? But you know what, I'm totally fine with the world ending. Because who wants to live in a place where all the lost things are found and we only have unmysterious stone circles?

One word: wikipedia. Wikipedia is clearly of Satan. It might be hard to see why this ubiquitous source of all the potentially true information in the world as updated by dubious sources could be evil. Well, that is simply because I have a thirst for random, useless trivia about celebrities and historical figures. For example, I just wikied the entire life story of Christopher Knight, best known for his role of Peter Brady on the Brady Bunch. (In case you're wondering, he actually is still married to that girl he met on the Surreal Life.) So, you're reading about something really important like that, and then suddenly there's a link to read the entire life story of Florence Henderson, everyone's favorite tv mom. So then you see that Florence Henderson was in a Pepsi commercial with Ozzy Osbourne and you wonder, "gee, what has Ozzy Osbourne been doing since he had a reality show?" Then you see that he was once invited to the White House Correspondent's Dinner by Greta Van Susteren. And then you realize you don't really know anything about Greta Van Susteren. And then suddenly it's tomorrow. (It's for that same reason that tv shows on dvd earn an honorable mention spot on this list.)

And then, there is, of course, roller derby. Popular sport of the 1970's, you just don't see it anywhere anymore. And God, like me, feels that no roller derby=no reason to go on.

Red Rover, Red Rover, We dare Adults over...

You may not know it but it's summer. Schools are starting to get out, kids are in the street playing basketball, eating popsicles, riding bikes, in general enjoying their lives.

If you haven't noticed, that is because you are, in a word, an adult. Chances are your summer looks a little less like reading books, climbing trees, and going to the local swimming pool, and a little bit more like the inside of a cubicle or similarly meaningless job prison.

Didn't it use to be that summer was the best? You waited all year for it, and you wanted each day to last forever so you could avoid school forever. Now as a reluctant grown-up, I've even chosen to attend school in the summer. My inner 8 year-old is appalled. Well, she would be, if she could pry herself away from Nancy Drew and the Secret of the Old Clock long enough to pass judgment on the terrible shame that is my life.

Becoming an adult is probably one of the most truly awful experiences you can have. Now that I've passed all of the entrance exams, I am sitting in the airport terminal waiting for the next big milestones to take off. (The most important being having a child to vicariously enjoy summer through, because it's okay to sit on the ground and draw with sidewalk chalk if you're with a kid. Not so much if you're by yourself. This just in: your neighbors will think you're crazy.)

The stupid thing is that this is what we wanted, to grow up. 8 year-old Anna would be so excited if she knew I had a house and a car and my very own cat. (She'd be a little less enthused that it wasn't a Barbie Dream House, that it wasn't a blue mustang convertible, and she'd be really upset to learn about litter boxes.) Somehow along the way we missed hearing the part where we'd have to trade racing our bikes in the street for worrying about the rising cost of energy to run our cars and air conditioners, red rover for paychecks, and catching fireflies for sitting in traffic.

But this is ludicrous. Why should we have to take this? I think it's time for every adult in America, nay, the world, to revolt. Worldwide summer vacation! If I want to skip out on work and go to the beach, there should be nothing my boss can say about it but, "Have a great time! Enjoy summer!" Forget the gas tax holiday, how about just a holiday?

Now, there will be some among you, namely economists, who think this is a terrible idea. But, "I'm not going to put my lot in with economists." But, at the end of the day, it's true that it probably wouldn't be that great for the economy if people could just randomly take off to enjoy a summer activity. So, we'll probably just have to use the hours a day that are wasted at American workplaces to enjoy our favorite summer pasttime at our desks.

How to Make the Most of Your Summer While Also Making the Most of Your Job:
1. Draw a hopscotch board between your desk and the copier.
2. Attempt to get a tan from the florescent light above your desk by spreading out your beach towel, throwing on your shades, and plopping down with a celebrity gossip magazine. Remember to turn every 15 minutes.
3. Replace the coffee pot with a frozen margarita machine.
4. For lunch, grill hot dogs and hamburgers at your desk.
5. Start a pickup baseball game in the breakroom or hallway.
6. Jazz up your afternoon can of Diet Coke with a paper umbrella.
7. Start a game of Capture the Flag between departments. It's against the rules to hide your flag in the boss's office.
8. Ride your bike not only to work, but to run errands, and to visit co-workers. Fellow employees will see that not only do you care about the environment, but you know how to have a good time. Women should be careful not to catch their heels in the pedals.
9. Put on your favorite bathing suit, flippers, and a swim mask when it's your turn to replace the tank in the water cooler.
10. Occasionally set off fireworks. Imagine how fantastic they will look shooting up over your cubicle wall. (Might want to stay in the bathing suit for when the sprinklers go off.)

Please note: I am not responsible for your imminent firing.

Seven Not-As-Deadly Sins

I suspect it's only fair that I start off by explaining that I'm not Catholic. I have a very small amount of exposure to Catholicism, some assorted married-in family members, a few wedding and funeral masses, and pretty much every guy I've ever dated. That combined with one article in Time magazine, a few stories on cnn.com, and some recent wikipedia research is the entire basis for this entry in which I present, this, my undeniably expert opinion, on the Seven Deadly Sins.

It's not a secret that the Catholic Church is having a sort of Crisis of Membership lately for some unknown reasons. (Some possibilities: No one wants to be made to feel guilty all the time, people like to know what is being said in their churches, Protestant churches don't have quite the history of persecution and, to be precise, shadiness, etc. For more on my opinion of the Catholic Church, with special attention to the systematic suppression of women, please see my Senior Thesis.)

In recent times, the Catholic Church has tried to pull a Madonna. By which I do not mean moving to England and developing a fake British accent. I of course mean, reinventing itself. Yes, Catholicism is attempting the switch from dressing like a whore to adopting children from third-world countries. (My guess is right now they're stuck right around Ray of Light.) They've started doing mass in English in some places, relaxed a couple of lesser tenets, and now they're trying to jazz up the linchpin of Catholicism: The Seven Deadly Sins.

Though you may have noticed I adopt a sort of general sarcasm about Catholicism, I have to admit, I enjoy the Seven Deadly Sins. I like tests that come in 7's (anyone who studied Torts with me can attest to that) and it's nice to have a sort of listing of things to stay away from. Since the time of Gregory I, or Gregory the Great, or G-dizzle as he was known to his closest cardinals, the Seven Big Ones have remained virtually unchanged, despite being sort of pulled out of thin air. Over time, seven demons were assigned to go with the sins, and seven virtues were added so people would have something concrete to strive for.

I have made you a handy chart which you'll probably want to print out and put in your wallet:

Sin	Demon	Virtue
Lust	Asmodeus	Chastity
Gluttony	Beelzebub	Temperance
Greed	Mammon	Charity
Sloth	Belphegor	Diligence
Wrath	Satan	Kindness
Envy	Leviathan	Patience
Pride	Lucifer	Humility

Take some time to think about whether or not you've committed any of these lately. If so, you're probably going to Hell so you might want to just stop reading now and go out and do something awesome instead. If you're already damned, might as well go out with a bang, I say.

Artists and authors throughout the ages have helped to immortalize these sins and keep them in our minds. From Christopher Marlowe to Bertolt Brecht to Racquel Welch's unforgettable portrayal of Lust in the immortal film, Bedazzled. Now we live in a society that even has, wait for it, rubber wrist bands associated with each sin. LiveSlothfully?

But you have to admit, these sins are kind of scary sounding. And Demons? ick. So the Catholic Church has recently added seven new sins to give us a little more social guidance. These newer, prettier, modern sins are: environmental pollution, genetic manipulation, obscene wealth, infliction of poverty, drug trafficking, morally debatable experiments, and violation of the fundamental rights of human nature. They're a little less on the nose than the original, leaving lots of loopholes (what is a fundamental right of human nature?). Notably absent thus far are the associated demons (Dr. Frankenstein is the demon of morally debatable experiments?) and there seem to be no associated virtues (virtue associated with obscene wealth? self-infliction of poverty? no... that's a sin too. I'm going to need more guidance, Benny).

But I feel that if the Catholic Church really wants to appeal to a more modern audience, they ought to come up with more specific sins whose temptation a number of us fall victim to on a daily basis. So I have come up with a new set of the Seven Deadlies for you guys.

The Seven Not-As-Deadly-But-Still-Really-Bad Sins

Sin: Watching Too Much Reality Television
Demon: Ryan Seacrest
Virtue: PBS
If this weren't a sin, there would be nothing stopping you from staying on the couch, watching your 7th hour of America's Next Top Model. Except for, of course, dignity. But you can make up for it by watching 7 hours of PBS Documentaries and gentle educational programming. And hey, you can finally be one of those viewers they're always thanking. The truly virtuous among us get a totebag and a magnet.

Sin: Fast Food Abuse
Demon: Ronald McDonald
Virtue: Wild Oats
No, shopping at Wild Oats doesn't automatically turn you into a hippie, but constantly hitting the drive-thru does turn you into a fattie which is fine and all, if you're happy with yourself. But who really wants to die at 40? And, someone recently studied how much gas you use going through a drive-thru which is sort of laughable now, but in a couple of months when gas is $5 a gallon, you'll be saving every penny wherever you can, so that you're not paying $5 a gallon to drive home to a cardboard box on the sidewalk.

Sin: The Overshare
Demon: The Women of The View
Virtue: Self-Editing
We have ALL been there. You love your friend, but you didn't need a play by play of the sex she had the night before. We've all been tempted to share the intricate details of our doctor visit, but there are some things that are really best left unsaid. Especially to acquaintances, like the woman that works on a different floor in your building when you happen to bump into her in the elevator. Where she is trapped, listening to way too many details about your visit to the OBGYN.

Sin: Celebrity Obsession
Demon: Pat O'Brien
Virtue: Gossiping about your own damn friends
Pat O'Brien may like to talk dirty, but he also likes to talk about Ashley Simpson's nose job, Paris Hilton's party life, and Oprah's latest endeavor (which happens to be launching her own cable channel... what the french toast). If you all stopped caring, then I would all be able to stop hearing about it. Then I wouldn't have to give my opinion on the latest star marriage when I called my grandma. One downside to declaring this a sin would be that we would have no basis for small talk in awkward small talk type situations, like with dental hygienists or bank tellers.

Sin: Giving Your Children Stupid Names
Demon: Gwyneth Paltrow
Virtue: Not Giving Your Children Stupid Names
While I realize that your child will be the only Raisinina in her class, that is not an excuse for naming her that. We're trying so hard to not name our children mainstream things that pretty soon we will live in a world where there will be 4 Rasininas in her class. Isn't it about time to cycle out and start naming our daughters Doris, Bette, Ingrid, and Joyce again? And there's nothing wrong with following the Beatles Naming Theory for boys (Ringo Starr's first name is really Richard, I am certainly not advocating naming your child Ringo). Gwyneth, your child may be the only Apple in her class, but she probably would have been the only Joan too. And who are we kidding, your child will be tutored at home anyway.

Sin: Intensely Private Cell Phone Conversations at Top Volume in Public Places
Demon: that woman in line behind you at the bank, that man in the grocery aisle, your co-worker in the next cubicle over...
Virtue: Privacy
This one sort of goes hand and hand with The Overshare, sort of like Sloth and Gluttony. Only here, all you're trying to do is go about your live without hearing about someone's bunions, or marital troubles, or problems in their sex life. You're just trying to buy some groceries and go home without knowing the details of the plastic surgery the woman in the bread aisle had. People guilty of this are also guilty of obliviousness to your presence, or the fact that they are standing in front of the shelf you need to get to, gabbing away.

Sin: Talking a lot about weird or incomprehensible things or things no one cares about
Demon: John McCain
Virtue: Being somewhat topical or interesting
As I write this, John McCain is giving a speech pretending it's 2013 and telling us what happened in the last 4ish years. Unless John McCain is a soothsayer, which seems unlikely, he's run out of things to say. Some say, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I say, "if you can't say anything interesting, don't say anything at all." First he was on his biography tour ("This is the High School gym where I wrestled...." "This is the soda fountain where I took my first date..." "This is the tool my uncle used to invent the wheel...") and now it's 2013. If you or I talked like it was 5 years from now, people would think we were CRAZY. But this doesn't just go for John McCain, this applies to all of us. No one needs to know exactly how you decided what to eat for lunch. And "how are you?" generally just requires, "I'm fine, you?" not a 20 minute discourse on your week.


Notably absent from all of these lists would be something like... I don't know... murder. So check it out! Murder is not a sin! Use that information wisely. But remember when you pick up your Us Weekly, flip on Big Brother 349, or pick up your child, Telephonica, from school: you're going to Hell.

I can definitely wear this dress again

I'm back! And I bet you thought that I'd try really hard to make this entry great because I made you wait two weeks for it. That was sweet, though completely unfounded.

Anyway, finals are over and I'm back to being a normal human being, rather than one that lives on snack food and caffeinated beverages and never sees the light of day.

Part of being a real human again is having perspective on a number of things I've neglected lately such as the cleanliness of my house (it is seriously not good - my sincere apologies to those I've entertained in the last month or so), what I look like (you know, actually bothering to fix my hair and not just wearing yoga pants and my Hillary Clinton t-shirt everywhere I go), and really who I am in general.

I am a single girl and like many single girls of a certain age, have a number of responsibilities. We live alone or with roommates and so find ourselves responsible for bills or parts of bills and our fair share of housework (or, let's be honest, ladies, sometimes less than our fair share. Please take a moment to thank your roommates.) We are responsible for moisturizing our faces, putting air in our car tires, remembering our birth control, and keeping our red shirts separate from our white shirts. (It is my belief that this is why women have embraced pink. Men could learn a lot from this... or instead could learn about laundry.) We have jobs or are students or have jobs and are students. We are responsible for the care and maintenance of roughly half the world's small dog population, 1/3 of all cats, and fully 80% of betta fish. (As a group, we are solely responsible for the spoiling of all chihuahuas.) We attend church and sporting events, and it is our job to keep Grey's Anatomy on the air. You may wonder, is there anything we can't handle? The answer, of course, is yes. A Diamond Ring. On someone else's finger.

Now, I'm no Bridget Jones, hopelessly romantic, wishing to get engaged, wishing I could be "so lucky." In fact, it matters very little to me whose hand the ring is on- be it former roommate, co-worker, that girl you hate- until it's inches from my face and it comes with the most dreaded five word phrase in the Single Girl Dictionary:

Will You Be a Bridesmaid?

Now, every girl knows that there's only one acceptable answer to that question (barring extreme circumstances such as moving to another city, conveniently scheduled elective surgery, or a well-timed business trip- please note: Emily Post would say it is not acceptable to move or have surgery solely to relieve oneself from the duty) and so you muster your best Bridesmaid Smile and say, "I'd love to!" while your mind immediately flashes to your recurring orange taffeta nightmare.

But now, you've done it. You've crossed the threshold, passed the Point of No Return. You are: A Bridesmaid.


As a Bridesmaid, there are really four responsibilities that you have:

#1- Attire
As a Bridesmaid, it is generally your responsibility to be ugly. Now you can try really hard. You can get your hair fixed up and your make up done but simply nothing is going to dress up puke green or aqua. Why are there bridesmaids? Well, that would be so that guests can look up at the altar and be disgusted by the hideous line of women and rest their attention on the beautiful, pristine woman in white. With some exceptions, it is time honored tradition to dress your bridesmaids in horrible and often gigantic gowns. Some women like to go with dresses that match the carpet or the grass or background of the wedding so that their bridesmaids can literally fade in the background (except of course, until they need them to bustle their skirt or hold their gown up while they pee.) But the best part about the dress is that you will totally wear it again! Every bride says this. And every Bridesmaid says, "absolutely!" and then tucks it in the back of their closet and glances at it occasionally, especially around Halloween.

Bottomline: Bridesmaids are there for assistance, not for beauty. If presented with a color you truly hate, a few subtle hints, ("look at this blue" or "I really love that red") might do the trick. If not, at least you get to drink at the reception. By the end of the night, you won't care if you're even wearing a dress. And really, chances are good you won't be.


#2- Giving Your Opinion.
This one is very tricky. Why? Because there is rarely any discernible difference between the roughly two dozen china patterns you must sift through. And I, personally, can almost never be induced to care whether one ought to have 10 or 12 glasses. Basically this is a total guessing game. Calla lilies or roses? First you try to read the look on the bride's face. (Level of difficulty increases slightly if you're on the telephone. Then you must go for tone of voice. Men may be right. It's nearly impossible to read a woman's tone of voice.) Then you must act like you recognize that there is a difference between the options. "Both have their merits" or "There's so much I like about each of them." And then comes the blind panic where you can't stall any longer and you're forced to to choose! "The roses, " you say. And then the excruciating moment while you wait, with baited breath, to see if you were correct. Because, as I hope everyone knows, if a woman asks a question that requires you to choose between two options, it's really just to validate the choice she has already made.

Bottomline: It is helpful to carry dice, or a coin, or a dart with you at all times.


#3- Showers.
Men, I'm going to stop you right here and say, this shower with multiple women that I'm about to describe, is not at all what you're imagining. A Bridal Shower is potentially the worst experience of your life. Second usually to Baby Showers. (At least at Bridal Showers you rarely have to play the game with the melted candy bars and the diapers. And there are no storks, which are, let's face it, nature's creepiest bird.) To begin with, there is often a theme. Now, I enjoy a theme party as much or slightly more than the next person, but that's when the theme involves costumes. A Bridal Shower rarely involves costumes. I, however, often choose to go in character: as someone who enjoys gushing over kitchenware and can't get enough of tiny tea sandwiches. Add to this obscure family members, or even family members of the groom, whom you must interact with in a non-offensive way. For example, probably not appropriate to tell your friend's soon-to-be mother-in-law about that time in undergrad you were out and she made out with that guy on top of the bar. Definitely not a story for a shower. So then what are you left with? Their china pattern? Perhaps you can delve into the intense thought process you underwent when giving your opinion. Best not to mention that you guessed.

Bottomline: Be prepared to discuss mundane topics with great-aunts and go home with oh-so-useful party favors, like a sachet that looks like your bridesmaid dress. This is great! Because you love that color.

#4- The Big Day
The months, or sometimes years, of Bridesmaid preparation pale in comparison to this, the most important day of your Bridesmaid career. The wedding. You will spend a majority of your time standing, in painful heels (that are of course dyed to match your lovely dress), waiting to be photographed. However, there are a number of other important jobs that you could be faced with. One is the aforementioned bridal bathroom assistance. Your powers of opinion will also be useful here to determine which eye shadow is best, or which hairstyle is best so don't forget to pack a coin in your teeny tiny matching purse. Additionally, that which you learned at the shower will come in handy here when you're forced to make conversation with the assorted party guest. Your role here is mostly over once you dance the obligatory wedding party dance with a groomsman you don't know very well, who you are now linked to because he's your friend's husband's friend. That's practically related. After this, you move on to your most important Bridesmaid duty: sampling the open bar.

Bottomline: Today is a day that is long, but ends in drinking. What more do you need to know?

Men, and women who are newly awakened to the Plight of the Modern Bridesmaid, may wonder why women have bridesmaids to begin with. Will you have bridesmaids, despite your obvious sarcasm in regards to the topic? Well, of course I will. Being a bridesmaid isn't all bad. I mean, at least there's Bachelorette Parties and gifts, and it's nice to be there for your friend. And besides, payback's a bitch.