This makes me miss UD.
It brings a tear. And a sinking feeling in my gut as I am reminded that I graduated college 2 1/2 years ago. And I'm going to be 30. Someday. What am I doing with my life?? oh my god, panic attack ensuing.
Totally unrelated: the boner part of The Office last night could possibly be the funniest line ever uttered on primetime television.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Virtual Reality Check
Amanda107: a guy basically has to blow me away and think i am the funniest, smartest, prettiest, wittiest, most fun girl he has ever met
Amanda107: and he has to give me a run for my money, I need a worthy adversary
Amanda107: but can then be a kickass boyfriend too
Amanda107: that's all
DMBETERNAL: Maybe you should get some cats.
Amanda107: and he has to give me a run for my money, I need a worthy adversary
Amanda107: but can then be a kickass boyfriend too
Amanda107: that's all
DMBETERNAL: Maybe you should get some cats.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Icebreaker.
I'm in the office kitchen/breakroom and this woman walks in that I've never seen before. We're standing next to each other, me stirring my steaming oatmeal, she's waiting for something in the microwave and peeling a hardboiled egg. The silence is deafening.
Lady I've Never Seen Before: "Your oatmeal makes my eggs not smell as bad."
Me: (puzzled, yet cordial) "Hmm, it sure does."
Lady I've Never Seen Before: "Yeah, I can't peel these things in my office. Makes the whole thing smell like a big fart."
Lady I've Never Seen Before: "Your oatmeal makes my eggs not smell as bad."
Me: (puzzled, yet cordial) "Hmm, it sure does."
Lady I've Never Seen Before: "Yeah, I can't peel these things in my office. Makes the whole thing smell like a big fart."
If a crap falls in the woods and no one hears it...
Apparently I am the person that everyone feels the need to tell every disgusting, painfully private and sometimes disturbing thing to. And I freakin' LOVE it.
Here we go.
My dear, dear friend (who shall remain nameless) went on her daily run in the park this morning. She prefers to run on the trails in the park, not only for the aesthetically pleasing and serene surroundings, but also because running on pavement hurts her knees. Why she runs alone, in the wee hours of the morning back in thick forests with no car or person anywhere within earshot, just to protect her patella is beyond me. Not important. I digress.
So, she's running in the rape forest this morning and halfway into it she realizes that she has to go to the bathroom. B.A.D. And not a tinkle. A big, old-fashioned crapperoo. The kind that strikes without notice and cannot be held under any circumstances. She's 15 minutes from her car with no toilets anywhere. What is a girl to do?? I'll tell you what she's gonna do, she's gonna duck behind a tree, pray to the colon gods that no one else comes by, drop trou, and lay one out. And that, my friends, is exactly what this classy, gorgeous, hilarious and respectable citizen of these United States did. A tear of pride came streaming down my face.
What comes next is where the true genius lies. Faced with the clean-up issue, she goes for the first obvious solution, a leaf. To her dismay, all of the leaves within reach are gross and crunchy. Clearly one cannot wipe with a crunchy leaf. Think about it. Then, in a moment of clarity, all those years of Eagle Scout training finally paid off. She valiantly strips off her shorts and underwear. AND USES HER UNDERWEAR TO WIPE HER ASS. God bless America. The Master then casually tosses the soiled undies further back unto the brush, puts those shorts back on and gets back to running, because goddamnit, that's what she came out here to do in the first place!
Perhaps the most disturbing point of this story is that after all of this, my main concern was not the poor park ranger who will eventually stumble upon the horror of crap-stained skivvies. No sir. I was having a coronary over the tossed underwear itself. My god! Were they a good pair??? I was absolutely horrified by the fact that some sweet undies were sacrificed.
When asked about the unmentionables in question, she responded,
"Hell no! Just a plain pair of Victoria's Secret white bikini briefs. Thank god. If they had been a good pair I totally would have kept them."
Here we go.
My dear, dear friend (who shall remain nameless) went on her daily run in the park this morning. She prefers to run on the trails in the park, not only for the aesthetically pleasing and serene surroundings, but also because running on pavement hurts her knees. Why she runs alone, in the wee hours of the morning back in thick forests with no car or person anywhere within earshot, just to protect her patella is beyond me. Not important. I digress.
So, she's running in the rape forest this morning and halfway into it she realizes that she has to go to the bathroom. B.A.D. And not a tinkle. A big, old-fashioned crapperoo. The kind that strikes without notice and cannot be held under any circumstances. She's 15 minutes from her car with no toilets anywhere. What is a girl to do?? I'll tell you what she's gonna do, she's gonna duck behind a tree, pray to the colon gods that no one else comes by, drop trou, and lay one out. And that, my friends, is exactly what this classy, gorgeous, hilarious and respectable citizen of these United States did. A tear of pride came streaming down my face.
What comes next is where the true genius lies. Faced with the clean-up issue, she goes for the first obvious solution, a leaf. To her dismay, all of the leaves within reach are gross and crunchy. Clearly one cannot wipe with a crunchy leaf. Think about it. Then, in a moment of clarity, all those years of Eagle Scout training finally paid off. She valiantly strips off her shorts and underwear. AND USES HER UNDERWEAR TO WIPE HER ASS. God bless America. The Master then casually tosses the soiled undies further back unto the brush, puts those shorts back on and gets back to running, because goddamnit, that's what she came out here to do in the first place!
Perhaps the most disturbing point of this story is that after all of this, my main concern was not the poor park ranger who will eventually stumble upon the horror of crap-stained skivvies. No sir. I was having a coronary over the tossed underwear itself. My god! Were they a good pair??? I was absolutely horrified by the fact that some sweet undies were sacrificed.
When asked about the unmentionables in question, she responded,
"Hell no! Just a plain pair of Victoria's Secret white bikini briefs. Thank god. If they had been a good pair I totally would have kept them."
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
If I ever wonder why I'm single...
I spent hours last night (while watching My Name is Earl, The Office, Rock Star: INXS, the local news, Letterman and Conan) working on the new title graphic. And I must say that I had no idea that I knew how to do such things.
See, the things you can do if you just try! And choose to spend hours making a stupid title graphic for your blog while watching TV show after TV show in your pajamas eating chicken pad thai that you had delivered.
Whoa, step back from the door and get in a straight line boys, I can only screen you one at a time.
See, the things you can do if you just try! And choose to spend hours making a stupid title graphic for your blog while watching TV show after TV show in your pajamas eating chicken pad thai that you had delivered.
Whoa, step back from the door and get in a straight line boys, I can only screen you one at a time.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
"livin' just enough, just enough for the citayyyyy"
Pulled myself out of the giant pile of work I'm drowning in to give a quick shout-out to Stevie Wonder and Eddie Money. Two musical greats, without whom (and starbucks) I would not make it through the day. amen.
Monday, September 19, 2005
music recommendation of the day/week/whatever
An FYI if you're on the search for new/sweet tunes.
This is one for the emo and lyrics-obsessed. Bright Eyes is now slowly taking over my life. It's no secret I really dig music and lyrics and get all goopy when I find the good stuff. This guy does it for me.
Lyrics can be found in the albums section of the site. There are approximately 147 albums, singles and compilations there. I'm into "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" at this point in time. Loving "First Day of My Life."
If you hate it, you have no soul. kidding. kind of.
(annie, give my thanks to eric. sweet mix that man makes.)
This is one for the emo and lyrics-obsessed. Bright Eyes is now slowly taking over my life. It's no secret I really dig music and lyrics and get all goopy when I find the good stuff. This guy does it for me.
Lyrics can be found in the albums section of the site. There are approximately 147 albums, singles and compilations there. I'm into "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" at this point in time. Loving "First Day of My Life."
If you hate it, you have no soul. kidding. kind of.
(annie, give my thanks to eric. sweet mix that man makes.)
News Flash: Wearing Magnolias Saves World
Ok, I'm not going to go into the standard morning-after rants concerning how much the Emmys completely sucked ass. Mostly because I don't want to admit that I sat my lazy self in front of the television and watched, not only the pre-show red carpet debauchery, but also the entire Emmys (alllllllllllllllllllllll 3 hours) start to finish. I'm not going to comment on anyone's dress or how pointless it was to have Ellen Degeneres there as host. What I am going to talk about is the magnolias.
Ellen gave a very simple and heartfelt speech about Hurricane Katrina victims and New Orleans being her hometown, blah blah. She then points out that everyone at the Emmys is adorned in a glorious magnolia flower pinned to their lapel, all in support of this horrible disaster. How sweet. Even better, every commercial break included at least one commercial urging the viewers to donate to the Red Cross. Go CBS. This got me thinking.
I came up with a few ideas of how CBS and the celebrities attending the Emmys could have better served the Katrina survivors, above and beyond the pathetic philanthropic effort of wearing a flower:
1. Take the money from the thousands of magnolias and donate it.
2. Instead of spending $10,000 on a dress, each celebrity could have settled for a $2,000 dress and donated the rest (actually, most get them for free from designers who want to promote their name, so maybe the designers could have spent $1000 less per yard of exotic Italian silk, aaaaand donated the rest).
3. To CBS: a couple things. Instead of 47 fancy backdrop pillar thingies, how about we take it down to 30? We'll all still be just as bored. And instead of the 2000 ft x 1000 ft JumboTron, how about you save some cash on that, make it a titch smaller, and donate what you save. No one will notice. No one.
4. It's hard for me to write this next one because my blood is already boiling and my head is about to explode just thinking about it. The Gift Bags. Every presenter and nominee received a gift bag containing over $25,000 in loot. They already have millions people! How about no gift bags at all? Why do they need any of it??? I am so angry, I calculated. At a conservative estimate, let's say there are 20 categories. That's 2 presenters and 5 nominees per category to receive bags. That's 3.5 million dollars in pointless gifts to people that already have so much money it makes me cry. I can't write anymore on this topic because not only does it seem so obvious and assinine, I must cool down or I will throw my monitor at the innocent new girl next to me.
Oh, more importantly than the whole Katrina thing, Zach Braff was hysterical last night. He did this British accent spoof with the guy from House. I mention this only because when Braff and I had our little exchange a few months ago, I've secretly kept to myself that he ALSO whispered to me that when he breaks out into a British accent, that's code for me to fly to our top secret location so that we may begin our life together. See ya.
On a completely unrelated note, I was a bit MIA last week due to some extreme pain and a small trip to the emergency room. Long story, I'll spare you the details, bottom line, I'm much better now. The best part is, I had an amazingly smooth and efficient ER visit, 3 scorching hot MDs at my side, and sweet sweet pain killers that erased any and all memory I might have of last Thursday and Friday. Awesome. Good times.
Ellen gave a very simple and heartfelt speech about Hurricane Katrina victims and New Orleans being her hometown, blah blah. She then points out that everyone at the Emmys is adorned in a glorious magnolia flower pinned to their lapel, all in support of this horrible disaster. How sweet. Even better, every commercial break included at least one commercial urging the viewers to donate to the Red Cross. Go CBS. This got me thinking.
I came up with a few ideas of how CBS and the celebrities attending the Emmys could have better served the Katrina survivors, above and beyond the pathetic philanthropic effort of wearing a flower:
1. Take the money from the thousands of magnolias and donate it.
2. Instead of spending $10,000 on a dress, each celebrity could have settled for a $2,000 dress and donated the rest (actually, most get them for free from designers who want to promote their name, so maybe the designers could have spent $1000 less per yard of exotic Italian silk, aaaaand donated the rest).
3. To CBS: a couple things. Instead of 47 fancy backdrop pillar thingies, how about we take it down to 30? We'll all still be just as bored. And instead of the 2000 ft x 1000 ft JumboTron, how about you save some cash on that, make it a titch smaller, and donate what you save. No one will notice. No one.
4. It's hard for me to write this next one because my blood is already boiling and my head is about to explode just thinking about it. The Gift Bags. Every presenter and nominee received a gift bag containing over $25,000 in loot. They already have millions people! How about no gift bags at all? Why do they need any of it??? I am so angry, I calculated. At a conservative estimate, let's say there are 20 categories. That's 2 presenters and 5 nominees per category to receive bags. That's 3.5 million dollars in pointless gifts to people that already have so much money it makes me cry. I can't write anymore on this topic because not only does it seem so obvious and assinine, I must cool down or I will throw my monitor at the innocent new girl next to me.
Oh, more importantly than the whole Katrina thing, Zach Braff was hysterical last night. He did this British accent spoof with the guy from House. I mention this only because when Braff and I had our little exchange a few months ago, I've secretly kept to myself that he ALSO whispered to me that when he breaks out into a British accent, that's code for me to fly to our top secret location so that we may begin our life together. See ya.
On a completely unrelated note, I was a bit MIA last week due to some extreme pain and a small trip to the emergency room. Long story, I'll spare you the details, bottom line, I'm much better now. The best part is, I had an amazingly smooth and efficient ER visit, 3 scorching hot MDs at my side, and sweet sweet pain killers that erased any and all memory I might have of last Thursday and Friday. Awesome. Good times.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Behold, the New Template. I want to lick it.
A few things...
Hope you like the new look. I owe every dollar I earn for the rest of my life, my first born and my soul to super blog/IM buddy, Jenn "HTML Badass" Hall-Scott, for pretty much building the entire thing for me. And she loved every second of those 8 hours, I know she did.
There's still a small issue with the comments. Rest assured, they are fully functional, but instead of the cute little comment window popping up, it opens a full new window. I'm working on it. Feel free to speak your mind. html is fun. Or the most frustrating thing ever. You choose.
I spent last night building this beaut:
wow. Just look at her in all of her silver and oak-finish ikea glory. This bitch is going in my bedroom and has basically changed my life.
On the way to bed last night I ran into this guy. Say hello to my little friend, the House Centipede. I'm ok with bugs. I smash them with my shoe, hard, about 36 times, but then I'm totally ok with them. This particular thing was not ok. I gasped when I saw it on the wall next to the microwave and started backing away like it was going to leap from the wall and eat my face off. I went so far as to wake my roommate who, having gone to bed hours before, was dead to the world. This thing was HUGE. Four inches long, at least, with a leg span (all 2,389,785 of them) of a good three inches. Ugh. I shudder just thinking about it. And then puke. Gross.
Also, I'm mildly concerned with the level of my obsession with Aqualung's "Brighter Than Sunshine." I can't stop listening to it, my gut tight the whole time. Find it. Download it. Buy the CD, whatever, just get it. Your eternal salvation depends on it.
Hope you like the new look. I owe every dollar I earn for the rest of my life, my first born and my soul to super blog/IM buddy, Jenn "HTML Badass" Hall-Scott, for pretty much building the entire thing for me. And she loved every second of those 8 hours, I know she did.
There's still a small issue with the comments. Rest assured, they are fully functional, but instead of the cute little comment window popping up, it opens a full new window. I'm working on it. Feel free to speak your mind. html is fun. Or the most frustrating thing ever. You choose.
I spent last night building this beaut:
wow. Just look at her in all of her silver and oak-finish ikea glory. This bitch is going in my bedroom and has basically changed my life.
On the way to bed last night I ran into this guy. Say hello to my little friend, the House Centipede. I'm ok with bugs. I smash them with my shoe, hard, about 36 times, but then I'm totally ok with them. This particular thing was not ok. I gasped when I saw it on the wall next to the microwave and started backing away like it was going to leap from the wall and eat my face off. I went so far as to wake my roommate who, having gone to bed hours before, was dead to the world. This thing was HUGE. Four inches long, at least, with a leg span (all 2,389,785 of them) of a good three inches. Ugh. I shudder just thinking about it. And then puke. Gross.
Also, I'm mildly concerned with the level of my obsession with Aqualung's "Brighter Than Sunshine." I can't stop listening to it, my gut tight the whole time. Find it. Download it. Buy the CD, whatever, just get it. Your eternal salvation depends on it.
Monday, September 12, 2005
under construction
please excuse if my blog is a mess, I'm in the midst of a template overhaul. I don't have the time to sit down and take care of it all at once, so I'm doing it in pieces, meaning that it'll look quite jacked for a bit.
bear with. thanks.
(oh, and the comments aren't working yet either. this is a pain in my ass.)
bear with. thanks.
(oh, and the comments aren't working yet either. this is a pain in my ass.)
Friday, September 09, 2005
LiLo vs. HDuff
a pebble-breasted and anorexic hduff
whew. ha. ok. This could be the funniest thing of the week, had to pass it along...
(for an added bonus, make sure to scroll down to the snippet about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes)
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I would like to take a quick moment to pay homage to the champion crapper who I was just blessed to have in the stall next to me.
She walked in directly behind me. I held the door for her. We made eye contact. We smiled. She said, "thanks." We were essentially best friends at that point. I chose my favorite stall (we all have one) and she went into the one right next to me. There were 3 others empty. What's with that? Isn't it general public bathroom etiquette to, when possible, NOT go into the stall immediately next to an occupied one?? Maybe I have issues, but that's neither here nor there.
She then proceeds to release more gas than I believe was contained in the Hindenburg. And not quietly. With no shame. No coughs or flushes in attempt to mask the booming, echoing flatulence. There were a few moments of sweet silence, save for some urine flow, but then, the gas returned. But this time with some fecal friends. And still, nary a flush.
I peed as fast as my urethra would allow to get the hell out of there and give this woman some privacy, for the love of god.
I was astounded (and admittedly, somewhat in reverence) at her sheer disregard for the fact that she had someone less than 2 feet away while shitting her brains out. Without a courtesy flush. I'd be more sympathetic if she was having a gastrointestinal emergency. I know what those sound like, and this wasn't it. Emergent or not, choose a stall that's NOT right next to an innocent bystander (bysitter?). Or flush. Maybe? Just once. Anything. Thanks.
*This PSA brought to you by my head, which is pounding right now because I didn't get Starbucks today for the first time in months.*
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Holy Irish
A guy that I work with just named his son Finn McCauley McGee.
That's two "Mc"s. In one name. Irish, much?
I imagine when they signed the official papers with the wee one's full name, he just exploded and little clovers and glitter went flying everywhere.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Foot Fetish
I've never been one to be grossed out by feet. They really don't bother me. I've never even paid attention to people's feet. Until today.
The whole foot analysis began with a freakishly short pinkie toe. I noticed this girl whose first 4 toes were all the same length (and they were LONG) but then her pinkie toe was maybe, and this is being generous, maybe, half the length of the rest of her toes. It was disturbing. How can she maintain balance while upright with a pinkie toe that small? She was sitting at the time, but I imagine that she would just fall right over when attempting to stand.
I then started taking inventory of everyone else's toes on the train. Mine included. I don't recommend it.
Ok, now, my feet are nothing to shake a stick at by any means. I even have an oddly turned pinkie toe. But, my toes are arranged in a nice descending fashion according to length. Apparently, such is not the case for the rest of the general population. Or maybe I had a train car full of toe freaks, who knows, but I saw so many toe anomalies it truly boggled the mind.
There was a lady with the first 3 toes the same length, then the 4th and 5th were the same length but much shorter than the first 3. A guy who, inconsequently, I would have mounted right there on the train had it not been for his toes, had a third toe longer than the second. It just stuck out there like his foot was flipping me off. One guy was missing his pinkie toenails altogether. They were just fleshy little stubs with no nail. Wha?
I had to stop at that point because I was starting to freak out. What is it with all these deformed feet?? Why does this happen?? I tried looking at it from a biological perspective, as I am a self-declared bio nerd, but nothing is making sense. Is it that all of those little cell divisions that form the toes during development have a high rate of genetic irregularities, thus resulting in jacked-up feet? But, using that logic, there would also be a bunch of finger freaks running around too. Which I don't think is the case.
The fact that I've even given it enough thought to have typed the last paragraph is seriously frightening.
The whole foot analysis began with a freakishly short pinkie toe. I noticed this girl whose first 4 toes were all the same length (and they were LONG) but then her pinkie toe was maybe, and this is being generous, maybe, half the length of the rest of her toes. It was disturbing. How can she maintain balance while upright with a pinkie toe that small? She was sitting at the time, but I imagine that she would just fall right over when attempting to stand.
I then started taking inventory of everyone else's toes on the train. Mine included. I don't recommend it.
Ok, now, my feet are nothing to shake a stick at by any means. I even have an oddly turned pinkie toe. But, my toes are arranged in a nice descending fashion according to length. Apparently, such is not the case for the rest of the general population. Or maybe I had a train car full of toe freaks, who knows, but I saw so many toe anomalies it truly boggled the mind.
There was a lady with the first 3 toes the same length, then the 4th and 5th were the same length but much shorter than the first 3. A guy who, inconsequently, I would have mounted right there on the train had it not been for his toes, had a third toe longer than the second. It just stuck out there like his foot was flipping me off. One guy was missing his pinkie toenails altogether. They were just fleshy little stubs with no nail. Wha?
I had to stop at that point because I was starting to freak out. What is it with all these deformed feet?? Why does this happen?? I tried looking at it from a biological perspective, as I am a self-declared bio nerd, but nothing is making sense. Is it that all of those little cell divisions that form the toes during development have a high rate of genetic irregularities, thus resulting in jacked-up feet? But, using that logic, there would also be a bunch of finger freaks running around too. Which I don't think is the case.
The fact that I've even given it enough thought to have typed the last paragraph is seriously frightening.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
KY or Bust
skyline of downtown Louisville, KY
Ah, the staggering enormity of the Louisville skyline. Sometimes it takes my breath away. If viewed at just the right angle, it almost resembles Chicago. Look closely. In the dark. With your eyes closed. See it?
I'm heading back to the homestead this weekend along with some fellow Chicagoans. Can't wait to show them that the city of Louisville isn't the barefoot, backward farmland that most think it is. That kind of stuff is conveniently located essentially everywhere else throughout the state of Kentucky. I can say that because I grew up there.
I'm pretty much as pumped as I can get. And that's saying alot considering just today I got really really excited over hearing "Black Betty" while getting ready this morning (I danced in the shower) and the plastic container full of medium (1 1/4") binder clips in assorted colors that was waiting for me when I got to work.
I mean, we're talking:
1. Leaving work early on a Friday.
2. A roadtrip complete with sweet, sweet mixes.
3. Gina's Italian home-cookin'(with cheesecake that's an O in your mouth).
4. Lots and lots of drinking on Bardstown Road, Chicago-style.
5. More southern twang than you could ever hope for.
It just doesn't get much better than that, my friends.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
The Ben Covington Phenomenon
This is for you, dash and dubbs.
Honestly, I've really been trying to avoid writing a post on this topic. Mostly because it stems from an episode of Felicity, and I'd really rather not go there. Seriously, who gets their blog inspiration from a turn of the century melodrama about an overanalytical girl making her way through college in New York? Apparently, me. Damn it.
I still don't quite undertand exactly why, last month, we purchased all 4 seasons of Felicity on DVD. And watched no less than 3 episodes per sitting. And made our way through the first 2 seasons in 2 weeks (20+ episodes per season, mind you). Maybe it was some desperate attempt to cling to something from a simpler time. A time when we would gather in our college dorm rooms to get our weekly fill of Felicity, Ben, and Noel. A time when the most complicated things in our lives were finding time to study around naps and bars and how to get the VCR to tape each glorious second of Ben Covington's face.
At any rate, we've been tearing through these episodes like it's our job, and consequently talking about the characters as if they not only exist in real life, but are also our closest friends.
An actual email written during the first season:
"I was sitting in a meeting this morning and had this wave of sadness hit me when I remembered that Noel and Felicity broke up last night. It was like I broke up with someone. Help me. Intervention needed. Good lord."
Not kidding.
Needless to say, we really get into this shit, it's like crack. I would also tell you all about how we have our own little saying when times get rough, "WWFD?" (What Would Felicity Do?), but that's just totally embarrassing, so I'll leave it out.
Onto the topic at hand. A few weeks back, in the throes of our Felicity marathon, we watched what has been dubbed "The Greatest Felicity Episode of All Time." Mel and I were bawling by the end. Not just teary. I'm talking sniffles, sobs, tears soaking the tops of our shirts. We were 2 emo messes.
So here's Felicity, doing wonderful after her second break-up with Ben (maybe third?). She's convinced that she doesn't need him, is better off without him and that she couldn't ever trust him again. She's totally done.
Enter the "Ben Covington Phenomenon." Right when Felicity has decided she's over Ben, he shows up at Dean and Deluca where she is working. He confesses that he's done a lot of thinking and that he realizes that he didn't treat her right and that he let her down. He has pinpointed the time that the let down began. It was a night that they were to meet for a movie in the park. He never showed. Alas, he has come with an old-school movie canister containing the VERY MOVIE he skipped out on. He then takes her on the roof of his apartment building where they watch the movie on a blanket and kiss and the planets are aligned yet again. Go Ben and Felic.
Here's the issue. The Ben Covington Phenomenon rarely happens in real life, and the few times it does, it basically never works out in the end. What guys out there need to know is that even when a girl is over you (and doesn't totally hate your guts), she still harbors this hope, albeit many times it's subconscious, that you will come back on your shining white stallion and sweep her off of her feet and right every wrong in the world. We can't help it, it's like our period, it just happens.
To make matters worse, TV shows and movies show this phenomenon again and again. And generally it ends with a teary kiss and they live happily ever after. Talk about false advertising.
And of course, the same happens on Felicity. Everything works out rosy and Ben ends up proposing right after graduation. Awww, presh. But, really, who can blame her for going back? It's Ben Covington for god's sake.
the man, the myth, the legend. ben covington.
Honestly, I've really been trying to avoid writing a post on this topic. Mostly because it stems from an episode of Felicity, and I'd really rather not go there. Seriously, who gets their blog inspiration from a turn of the century melodrama about an overanalytical girl making her way through college in New York? Apparently, me. Damn it.
I still don't quite undertand exactly why, last month, we purchased all 4 seasons of Felicity on DVD. And watched no less than 3 episodes per sitting. And made our way through the first 2 seasons in 2 weeks (20+ episodes per season, mind you). Maybe it was some desperate attempt to cling to something from a simpler time. A time when we would gather in our college dorm rooms to get our weekly fill of Felicity, Ben, and Noel. A time when the most complicated things in our lives were finding time to study around naps and bars and how to get the VCR to tape each glorious second of Ben Covington's face.
At any rate, we've been tearing through these episodes like it's our job, and consequently talking about the characters as if they not only exist in real life, but are also our closest friends.
An actual email written during the first season:
"I was sitting in a meeting this morning and had this wave of sadness hit me when I remembered that Noel and Felicity broke up last night. It was like I broke up with someone. Help me. Intervention needed. Good lord."
Not kidding.
Needless to say, we really get into this shit, it's like crack. I would also tell you all about how we have our own little saying when times get rough, "WWFD?" (What Would Felicity Do?), but that's just totally embarrassing, so I'll leave it out.
Onto the topic at hand. A few weeks back, in the throes of our Felicity marathon, we watched what has been dubbed "The Greatest Felicity Episode of All Time." Mel and I were bawling by the end. Not just teary. I'm talking sniffles, sobs, tears soaking the tops of our shirts. We were 2 emo messes.
So here's Felicity, doing wonderful after her second break-up with Ben (maybe third?). She's convinced that she doesn't need him, is better off without him and that she couldn't ever trust him again. She's totally done.
Enter the "Ben Covington Phenomenon." Right when Felicity has decided she's over Ben, he shows up at Dean and Deluca where she is working. He confesses that he's done a lot of thinking and that he realizes that he didn't treat her right and that he let her down. He has pinpointed the time that the let down began. It was a night that they were to meet for a movie in the park. He never showed. Alas, he has come with an old-school movie canister containing the VERY MOVIE he skipped out on. He then takes her on the roof of his apartment building where they watch the movie on a blanket and kiss and the planets are aligned yet again. Go Ben and Felic.
Here's the issue. The Ben Covington Phenomenon rarely happens in real life, and the few times it does, it basically never works out in the end. What guys out there need to know is that even when a girl is over you (and doesn't totally hate your guts), she still harbors this hope, albeit many times it's subconscious, that you will come back on your shining white stallion and sweep her off of her feet and right every wrong in the world. We can't help it, it's like our period, it just happens.
To make matters worse, TV shows and movies show this phenomenon again and again. And generally it ends with a teary kiss and they live happily ever after. Talk about false advertising.
And of course, the same happens on Felicity. Everything works out rosy and Ben ends up proposing right after graduation. Awww, presh. But, really, who can blame her for going back? It's Ben Covington for god's sake.
This almost makes me want to have kids. Almost.
This particular blog entry is solely an opportunity for me to show off my cousin's kids because they pretty much make my world a sunny, bright place where everything is flowers and kittens and rainbows.
Without further ado, here are 2 freakin' cute ass children:
The one on the right is Maddy and on the left is Meredith. I dare anyone to tell me that they are not perfect specimens of little humans.
Maddy is 6 going on 30. She's already arguing with her parents about how many times she is allowed to roll her shorts at the waistband. Moms and Pops say 1, she insists on 2. Hooch in training, god love her. In one afternoon her dad had to do at least 4 "Roll Checks." Maddy failed 3 of the 4. She stomps her foot and explains each time that the length of the shorts at a mere single roll is "sooooooooo dorky." A girl after my own heart. I respect her diligence.
Meredith. Affectionately referred to as "El Niño." A force of nature cleverly disguised as a 2 year old. Generally she says things that are funnier than most of the stuff I hear out of adults. She's a total ham. The second she sees a camera she immediately plasters on her "Cheese Face," in which she crinkles up her nose, squints her eyes and does something different with her mouth every time; all the while saying "CHEEEESE!!!!" All of this without anyone ever saying anything like, "say cheese." It's just her camera reflex.
Cheese Face:
This last photo is my personal fav. Love the hair, love the hands, love the smile, and especially love the outfit. Priceless.
Without further ado, here are 2 freakin' cute ass children:
The one on the right is Maddy and on the left is Meredith. I dare anyone to tell me that they are not perfect specimens of little humans.
Maddy is 6 going on 30. She's already arguing with her parents about how many times she is allowed to roll her shorts at the waistband. Moms and Pops say 1, she insists on 2. Hooch in training, god love her. In one afternoon her dad had to do at least 4 "Roll Checks." Maddy failed 3 of the 4. She stomps her foot and explains each time that the length of the shorts at a mere single roll is "sooooooooo dorky." A girl after my own heart. I respect her diligence.
Meredith. Affectionately referred to as "El Niño." A force of nature cleverly disguised as a 2 year old. Generally she says things that are funnier than most of the stuff I hear out of adults. She's a total ham. The second she sees a camera she immediately plasters on her "Cheese Face," in which she crinkles up her nose, squints her eyes and does something different with her mouth every time; all the while saying "CHEEEESE!!!!" All of this without anyone ever saying anything like, "say cheese." It's just her camera reflex.
Cheese Face:
This last photo is my personal fav. Love the hair, love the hands, love the smile, and especially love the outfit. Priceless.
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