Top Three!

I'm siezing on Laurita's post to name a few of my top (and bottom) three in several categories. I made up some of my own categories, too. If you like, you can tag yourself and compose a list of your own on your blog, or on mine for that matter!

Favorite Three Artists:



Gustave Caillebotte



Robert Doisneau



Henri Matisse

2. Three things that scare me the most:
George W. Bush
Dick Cheney
The thought of having to fit into my wedding dress!

3. People who make me laugh:
Gene
Stephen
Lauren

4. Things I love:
My nieces, Allie and Caroline
warm weather
traveling

5. Things I hate:
ham
being cold
waiting for the bus in the freezing cold/rain/snow/wind

6. Things I just don't understand
The war in Iraq
Monty Python
Boys and grown men with oversized pants around their knees. (Put a belt on!)

7. Things on my desk:
iMac (of course)
iPod
cute little desk lamp from Ikea

8. Things to do before I die:
go to Dubai




see Samuel L. Jackson cast as me in the movie of my life
live overseas again

9. Things I can do
Speak French
Speak German
step aerobics

10. Things you should listen to:
Your mom
Al Gore
NPR

11. People you should never listen to:
George W. Bush
Bill O'Reilly
Newt Gingrich

12. Things I'd like to learn:
Speak Italian
to be a great cook
play piano

13. Foods I could eat until the end of time
sushi
Japanese noodle soup
#8 Pizza from Cambridge 1

14. TV shows I watched as a child
Cosby show
Family Ties
Growing Pains

15. Stores I love:
Apple Store
Aveda stores
Ann Taylor/Loft

16. Girls Names I like a lot
Kathleen
Erin
Caroline

17. Boys Names I like a lot:
David
Graeme/Graham
Jan/Jens (both German, pronounce the "j" as "y.")

18. Songs I really am enjoying at the moment:
Original of the Species (u2)
Bootylicious (Destiny's Child)
Help Yourself (Tom Jones)

19. Three guests I would like to have for dinner
Bill Clinton
Bono
Samuel L. Jackson

20. Games I like:
Risk
Trivila Pursuit
Loaded Questions

21. Great Books:
Devil in the White City
Angela's Ashes
Madame Bovary

22. Things I'm crappy at:
driving
singing
dancing

23. Three wishes:
to be thin
to be rich
to never suffer one more moment of back pain ever!!

Lois Finkelstein to the Fur Vault, Please.

This was the announcement coming forth from the speaker in the Macy's at Chestnut Hill as I entered the store today.



Yes, that's right. I was in Chestnut Hill today. I technically should be saying that I was in Brookline today, but even the prestigious and placial Brookline is way too low brow for the good people of Chestnut Hill. They've even gone to the trouble of procuring their own zip code, so as to be recognized officially as Chestnut Hill, and not just some Brookline enclave.

I've dabbled in Brookline before. I've spent my fair share of time in Coolidge Corner, and I've even been known to possess the boldness required to voluntarily venture into Brookline Village. But my time in Chestnut Hill has been limited strictly to physical therapy visits at New England Baptist satellite PT facility.

You might be wondering why going to Chestnut Hill is such a bizarre experience. Here's the thing...

Chestnut Hill is like a parallell universe to where the rest of us live. Every vehicle on the road is a BMW (7 series, at least!), Acura, Mercedes, Porsche, Lexus..you get the picture. I think they refuse to allow lesser vehicles to travel on the roadways and streets of Chestnut Hill. People are filthy rich. Not a single woman in Chestnut Hill holds down any kind of job. They don't have to. Their husbands bring home the bacon while the women stay at home with Tristen and Madeline. Actually, Tristen and Madeline stay home with the multiple nannies while Mommy goes to see Mrs. Finkelstein at the fur vault at Macy's. The houses look like this...





And those are just the little hovels at the side of the highways. The real estates are hidden from view of the masses and slobs like myself.

If you are not a Chestnut Hill person, which clearly I am not, real Chestnut Hill people seem to want to go out of their way to let you know that, although they'll deign to tolerate your presence in their little world, you're expected to take your leave of it as soon as is humanly possible.

Chestnut Hill is one of those places where even though people are living an absolutely charmed life, they always seem to be miserable. They are never happy. If they're in Starbucks, and the skim milk canister is empty, this is cause enough for a nervous breakdown. If they arrive at a cash register at the same time as you and you presume to approach the cashier first, they have to break out the cell phones and start calling their therapists to talk through their feelings of rejection. They don't believe in wearing watches because, after all, nothing starts until they arrive anyway. I always feel really stressed out when I'm in Brookline, never mind Chestnut Hill.

But anyway, the reason I was in Chestnut Hill today was that I did have an appointment with my back doctor. She is at Chestnut Hill on Fridays, as opposed to the hospital in "da hood" where she usually practices. The appointment was at 2:00, and when I looked up my gym online, (they have a gym in Chestnut Hill) I realized that there was a double step at the Chestnut Hill gym at 9:30. I thought it might be fun to check that gym out. My favorite instructor at Cambridge teaches there once a week and she assured me that the Chestnut Hill makes the Cambridge gym look totally getto. I was curious. Actually, the gym as three levels of membership. Level 1 is to have membership at one club only. Level 2 is to have membership at all of the urban clubs, except for Chestnut Hill. Level 3 is to have "all club" which includes Chestnut Hill. That membership is significantly more expensive. I guess that's one sure way to make sure they can keep the rif-raf away from the noble Chestnut Hill population.

So, that was it. I decided to go to the Chestnut Hill gym. I couldn't believe the place when I walked in. The sheer luxury of the surroundings was unbelievable to me. The bathrooms have those sort of stone, flat sinks, and all the fixtures are slate/stone. The tile work is beautiful and the vanity areas are totally tricked out with lit magnified mirrors, really expensive hairdryers with all the appendages close by, Aveda body lotion (at Cambridge we have some no-name brand crap) and all kinds of other bells and whistles.

The actual gym was gorgeous. The studios are huge, well ventilated and lit and the equipment was gleaming and brand spanking new. The weight machines were all well oiled and brand new, as well.

It was awesome.

I know, I know. I'm all over the place, but my mind is spinning in Chestnut Hill overdrive right now.

As I mentioned, the cars are nicer. The houses are nicer. The gym is nicer. Oddly enough, even the department stores we've all seen a million different times (same store, different mall), were different!

Take for example Macy's. Now, there is a fur vault area in the downtown Boston Macy's, but it is empty, long since forgotten. It is now an impromptu employee break area where the workers sneak cigarettes. The fur vault at Chestnut Hill Macy's is, however, alive and kicking. And Lois Finkelstein is one of the busiest women in the place.




The Macy's over there is all broken down into little areas, each featuring the "pieces" of a different high end designer. Even the cosmetics department was like something out of a parallel universe. Many of the companies represented there were brand new to me (lipsticks for 50 dollars, etc). But, the thing is that the companies whose products I do know (Lancome, Origins, MAC) all had a different, really high end line of product for sale. It was not the same product that you see at the other Macys stores.

People were shopping up a storm, spending money with abandon. I had fun trying some stuff on, but the credit card stayed tucked safely away in my wallet. I'm not sure if my credit cards have a spending limit that would allow such purchases anyway.

Like I said, today I went to Chestnut Hill. I've seen how the other half live.

It was interesting to see, but I think I prefer life among this half.

Happy Day!

I know I do not need to remind you just how much I have been bitching about the weather lately. Yesterday I reached my peak of depression. Or would it be depths of depression? Whatever...it was pretty bad.

I left the house and for like the 10th straight day in a row, it was absolutely miserable outside.

Today, I was at the gym for my 9:00 class. Not surprisingly, when I left the house, it was pretty cloudy, cold and grey outside. As my aerobics class came to a close, and we got onto the floor to do our ab work, my unique vantage point afforded me a view out the window to pure sky. I'd been totally bummed out by the same view for the past week because it honestly looked like somebody took a brush and painted the windows steel grey. Today, however, something struck me as odd as I settled in to do my crunches. The windows were filled with blue. Bright blue. And what was that big bright thing hanging there in the sky? It was kind of yellow and round. I racked my brain to try to figure out what that thing could possibly be. Surely I'd seen it somewhere before. And granted, it had been ages, but I knew I had the name of this object on the tip of my tongue.

Oh yes....THE SUN!

The sun is back.

It is lovely outside right now. It is around 49 degrees, which is still quite a bit cooler than it should be at this time of year, but I'LL TAKE IT!!!!

Hey, this is a great thing!

In other wedding-related news, I went to the bridal shop and tried on my gown today. I had originally ordered it in a size larger than what I had tried on in the store. I figured it would be easier to do alterations that way than with trying to have to make anything larger.

So, when I got to the place, there it was, all neatly packaged in the plastic bag and lovely. I was surprised, however, when I tried it on because it was really way too big. I am not sure if it was actually only one size larger than what we saw when I tried it on.

The seamstress there was throwing around telephone number prices as to what it would cost to take in the bust, lift the entire hem, etc. I was a little panic stricken, to be honest.

Eventually, I asked if they still had the one in the store that I had previously tried on. Luckily, they did. They were all concerned because the model dress was ivory and I ordered the white. Actually, I thought I had tried on the white. It isn't a buttery type of ivory, it is pretty light.

So, I took the floor model that a million women have tried on before me, but I don't give a crap.

The alteration fee is now only 30 dollars because all they have to do is take in the bust. The hem was perfect, so that does not need to be taken up, which helps me avoid the 125 hem alteration fee.

They were surprised, at the shop, that I didn't care about going from white to ivory and that I would take the floor model, but whatever! I'm trying to keep this thing as painless as possible!

Oh well, gotta go finish watching my lifetime movie.

Shout Out to Jules!

Date: April 17, 2007.

Current Actual Temperature: 41 degrees

Current "Real Feel" Temperature: 22 degrees.

Current Weather: 10th straight day of unremitting, unrelenting, ceaseless, endless, interminable freezing rain.

This Blogger's Current State of Mind: Verge of weather-induced mental collapse.

While the weather reamins a source of spleen for me, and although the entire day SUCKED in that department, I cannot claim that the day was entirely unproductive.

Wedding shoe shopping was hanging over my head like an anvil; with my size 11 Jurassic Park feet, shoe shopping is rarely a pleasure. Shoe shopping for a very special occasion is even more stressful.

Realizing the limitations that my lack of a car puts on me in times such as these, Jules graciously offered to take me shoe shopping. And today, I took her up on her offer.

We went to two stores, one way out in Woburn, and the other in Burlington.

What a pain in the neck it is to have to find a pair of white shoes. Who'd have thunk it?

I just needed something simple and elegant. I wanted to avoid super high heels. This is not as easy as it sounds. Sure, there were plenty of white shoes, but most of them had those wooden/cork or black bottoms. I didn't think that would look particularly stunning with my wedding dress. The ones that were all white were waaaaaaaaaay too high. Jesus, not only are the heels like 67 inches high, but they are like a milimeter in width. So, even if they weren't that high, I'd never be able to talk on the things. I'm much too heavy to be supported by something that's about the same circumference as a freakin toothpick!

We moved onto the DSW store where I managed to find not one, but two pairs of shoes. Both were very nice, and each was the same price. I couldn't decide on which pair right there at the store,so I bought both. I will eventually decide and then return one.

But honestly, Jules did me a huge favor, the magnitude of which she did not seem to fully grasp. She seemed to be under the impression that she hadn't done anything extraordinary at all. But getting the shoes is a HUGE item off of my checklist. I am sooo relieved to have this done.

Thanks Jules!!!!

Even the crappy weather can't cast a shadow on my gratitude!

Trump Show...An Unexciting Final Four

The Trump Show was a real touchy-feely family affair last night, wasn't it?

I mean, it isn't often that both Don Jr. and Ivanka are on hand to assist the Donald. Usually we get one or the other. I don't know what it is about Don Jr., but I don't like the guy. He looks like total walking penis. Is that really gross to say? Well, I just can't think of any other way to describe it. The dude is one ugly f'er. I'm just saying. And he seems like a total wuss.

Enough about him, though.

The other lovely moment came when the final four aspiring apprentices were able to meet up with the now extended Trump family of former winners.

Jesus, was I the only person who had entirely forgotten about that dude Kelly? And what about Kendra? I mean, really. We get some visits from Bill and Randall from time to time, but where are these other two? What are they doing for Trump, anyway? Whereas Bill and Randall are managing major construction projects, Kelly and Kendra are probably managing the coffee shops in the lobbys of the major Trump buildings or something.

Anyway, a few words on the final 4.




James is obviously bright and talented, but I can't stand the "used car salesman" voice and volume. Is the guy capable of simply speaking, or must he always employ the bullhorn voice? I just don't get it. And have you ever seen anybody smile the way this guy does? When he smiles, his mouth freezes into this wide open, perfectly formed "O." And there he stays, frozen in this expression for minutes on end. Its kind of creepy. He seems like such a frat boy. I guess I could see him working for Trump, as long as his employees were hearing impaired and actually needed that kind of volume. I can't imagine anybody calmly accepting being screamed at all day long.



This Nicole bitch is driving me crazy. How could Tim fall for her? I mean, he isn't any kind of prize package himself (particularly since he screwed me in the App-Reese-Tice game buy getting canned when he was my 500 point season pick.) Nicole is immature, annoying, irritating, and possessed of the single most annoying voice/accent combo I've ever heard in my life. I think I would have to shoot myself if she were my colleague and I had to listen to her all day long. Also, I have to take issue with the Bozo the Clown eye makeup. Don't they have some makeup people working on this show. Nicole looks like a raccoon who got the shit kicked out of her in a back alley somewhere.



Stefani might actually be the most competent, mature person here, but she's got the drunken Betty Davis lipstick syndrome.



I'm surprised Frank has made it as far as he has. I think it has been beneficial to him that he's had immature teammates like Nicole and James who think he's funny rather than annoying and goofy. But, there must be something there I'm not seeing because Trump actually likes the jerk.

My prediction...I think Frank will take it all.

But here's the thing....

regardless of who wins, I have to say that I'm a little disappointed with the show this season.

It has been somewhat lackluster, particularly in these advanced stages of the "interview process."

This past episode, featuring the final 4 in a bid to win a competition to write a commercial for some air freshener" didn't even result in a canning. The teams, in the boardroom, were completely unconfrontational and did nothing but praise each other's work ethics. Boring.

Furthermore, Trump announced that the next show will be the season finale in which he'll select the winner from the final 4.

Huh?

This leaves me to believe that there won't even be a final project. Will it just be some 2 hour boardroom in which the 4 final players will tear each other apart?

I don't know, but I will be tuning in to find out.

I'm might be slightly unimpressed, but I haven't given up on Trump yet.

Another Boston Wash

This is pretty much what the Boston weather forcast has looked like for the past 10 days. And we are promised at least 5 straight more days of this. The only part of this picture that is not actually representative of what's going on here are the temperatures shown. It is only going to be 38 degrees tomorrow. It will be nowhere near the 50 degrees shown on the weather chart.

I know I have to get over it, but at this point, a deep, weather-related depression has set in.




The city pretty much looks like this right now.

It could be worse. I saw, for myself, how Stephen's parents were getting socked with up to 2 feet of snow in New Hampshire. At least we're only getting rain. But the fact that it has been going on for DAYS ON END is driving me insane!

I went to the gym this morning. In the literally 50 seconds that it takes me to walk to the T, (and the T was right there, waiting for me to board when I got to the stop, so there was no additional time outside), every stitch of clothing on my body was utterly drenched.



But the shit weather did not stop the 111th running of the Boston Marathon. The marathon course goes right outside our building, but I only went outside to cheer on the runners when the rain briefly abated.

When the elite Kenyan runners cruised past my building, I was watching from the living room window. I was not out there cheering them on in person.

Hell, there's an 80,000 dollar purse in the race for these guys. What's in it for me? A whole lot of nothing. So, I'm not going to subject myself to that crap!

The City Dweller Returns!

We returned from our weekend at the cabin this afternoon.

I have to say that I had fun, in spite of the driving rains, freezing temperatures, lack of running water and furry, four-legged roommates. However, I'm gald to be back to civilization. I'm just far too accustomed to my little creature comforts to go too long without them. I'm addicted to the conveniences and comforts of the city and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Now, grated, the cabin is a paradise in the summer. The sun is shining, hiking trails are just beckoning, cold beer is there to whet our whistles at every turn, and the hours of sitting around, stuffing our faces and drinking far too much hooch are essentially guiltless activities because of the aforementioned hikes that help ease some of the calorie intake.

In the winter (I mean, technically this is Spring, at least according to my calendar, but the six inches of snow on the ground up there tell me otherwise), the cabin is not as enjoyable...to me anyway. Stephen loves it at any time.

Anyway, on the way up Friday, we had stopped at Stephen's parents' place to borrow their SUV. We just weren't confident enough in the Civic to get us up the cabin's long, muddy, snowy driveway.

So, needless to say, we had to stop by there on the way home to return the car.

The snowstorm in New Hampshire was shocking! The snow was really accumulating quickly and according to the newscaster, they were expecting up to a foot of snow tonight. And another foot tomorrow. What the hell?



Stephen's mother, upon realizing that I was trying to keep myself at a safe distance from her in order not to offend her with my fowl body odor and smoke-infused clothing, offered me the use of her shower facilities. I don't think I've ever taken such a long shower in my life. I was a little self-conscious, because it seemed slightlyl obnoxious to take such a long shower at their place, but in the end, my desire to delouse myself overtook my desire to fall into his parents good graces. I think they already like me; I'm sure they'll forgive me when they see their 450 dollar water bill this month.

I thought I was going to cry when I got out of the shower and realized that I was actually clean!



When we got home, I pretty much wasted no time in getting my ass to the gym. Once again, the perpetual sitting around and eating that is an inherent part of a cabin weekend has weighed not only on my conscience, but on the scale, as well. So, I went to the gym, did a treadmill hill workout for an hour, a step aerobics class for an hour, and lifted for around a half hour. I was tired and didn't really feel like working out, but I was damned if I was going to miss another day of the gym.




And after the gym, I went to Starbucks for an iced coffee. It was freezing out and I didn't really even feel like an iced coffee, but just the fact that the Starbucks was there and available and I COULD go mean so much to me. I had no choice. I had to amble in.

So, I'm back to my city life. Thank god!!! At least until the summer, when a trip to the country will be a most welcome diversion!

I'vd decided that so long as the mercury dips below 60 degrees, I'm not meant to be at the cabin.

I need my central heating and that's that.

Konichiwa

What can I say, I already have Dice-K fever. I am really excited to see the new Japanese phenome, Matsuzaka, take the mound for the Sox at Fenway park tonight.

Stephen and I are going down to our local watering hole to have a beer and watch some of the game down there. I shouldn't really be drinking any booze since my back has kept me from exercising for the past few days, but what the hell. It isn't every day that you get to see a guaranteed legend throw his first game in his home park.

Besides which, I havent' seen any of the Sox games to date, so I have to get in the groove.

And today's probably just as good a day as any, seeing as where we are getting a fucking noreaster tomorrow, which the weathercaster literally just said is likely to be a three day event.

And Yet.....They're Playing Baseball.

It is 34 degrees outside. (Fahrenheit, not centigrade, mind you.)

The "real feel" temperature being advertised by the local weather guy is 29 degrees.

It is raw.

It is freezing, bone-chillingly cold.

It is full freakin' fledged winter out there.

It is going to SNOW tomorrow.

People are bundled up in full winter gear (scarves, hats, mittens, neck gators, Smartwool socks) and perpetually pitched forward to fight against the gale force wind that seems to have taken up permanent residence here in Boston.

And yet, it is April 10th.

And yet....they're playing baseball over at Fenway Park.

Does it seem completely incongruous and WRONG to anybody else but me that they are fucking playing ball over at Fenway Park and the wind chill factor today never rose above the 32 degree freezing mark?



I'm going to TRY to let it go, but I can't promise that I'll be successful in this endeavor. Where is all this global warming they talk about? And to think that I was actually starting to fall for Al Gore's "Inconvenient Truth" crap. The only freakin' inconvenience I'm dealing with here is that it is cold and sucky and crappy.



While I'm in the mood to bitch and moan....

I had to call my doctor today and cave in and request a Prednisone course of treatment for my back. I have not exercised since Saturday because I'm in too much pain to do much besides get through the day. I'm overdosing on Aleve and even taking the occasional PM vicodin. I hate those things. They make me absolutely sick to my stomach. I take one and then I have about an hour before the room starts spinning, and I feel like I'm going to drop dead. It is so nice to be left with the option of either feeling like I'm going to be sick to my stomach, or suffering with the intolerable back pain.

I wouldn't mind if I made no attempt to better my back situation. Crap, I might even concede that I deserve the pain. But, Jesus, when I think of all the stupid, time-consuming, labor-intensive back therapy that I do all the time, it really pisses me off!

So, anyway, I've just started the first of my 6 days on prednisone. As I said, I hate to be on it, but it is a really quick fix, and I should be back in the gym within a day or two of today.

I hope!

It would be lovely to get fitted for the wedding dress after a week of not working out. I'm sure I'd be delighted with that experience.



Onto a more positive note....

A few nights ago, I discovered the Boston College Bus. Well, that's not entirely true. I've seen it a million times. The thing goes up and down Comm Ave every day all day, depositing BC kids off at intervals along the way. One of the stops is right outside my front door.

On Friday night, I was so freakin' freezing, and I was about to walk home from Cleveland Circle. Normally, this 10 minute walk is a welcome diversion, but under the APRIL subarctic circumstances, a lift on a nice warm bus was looking pretty good.

I hung back and watched as other students boarded the bus. Would they show IDs to the driver? Would there be some secret password?

Nope.

Nada.

Everybody just walked onto the bus like they owned the thing.

So, I joined them.

And I've been taking the BC bus ever since.

In fact, I took it tonight after having my Rx filled at CVS. I love it. The seats are comfortable and the heat is kicking.

Now granted, I'm easily 12 years older than anybody on that bus, but I don't even give a shit. I LOVE finding free stuff that really isn't supposed to be free. I think that bus fare is something like 40,000 per year....but I'll take it free and gratis.

Sho 'nuff.



In a totally unrelated thought....

Isn't it strange that pharmacists in this country are forced to basically act as ordinary cashiers, ringing up dish washing detergent and People Magazine for the folks getting their meds?

I mean, sure, it is convenient to purchase everything at one register, rather than wait for the RX and then in line again at the regular register.

I'm just thinking that in Europe, they never have CVS type stores. Stores that sell snacks, shampoo, magazines, fabric softener, etc., are just separate from pharmacies. In Europe, pharmacists/chemists, are viewed with some prestige and are really respected by their customers.

In Europe, just to buy aspirin, you have to go to the chemist, and you have to ask the dude for the meds that would be "over the counter" here. The pharmacist will always ask you a ton of questions and give advice as to how to best take the product in question. In Europe, if you approached a pharmacist with a pack of Twizzlers, expecting him to ring it up, he'd laugh at you and walk off.

I was thinking tonight, as this very nice, professinal, dignified pharmacist was ringing up troll pencils and Cascade for some woman, that this should not be in his job description. The dude went to pharmacy college for like 5,600 years. He should not be advising you on how to AVOID DEATH by correctly dosing out your medication, all while ringing in the latest issue of "Car and Driver."

What the hell?

Just a Random Thought....

Oh my god, I'm going to sound like such a tight-ass Republican, or worse, an old woman, but I don't care. I have a burning issue to address. I have questions, and I need some answers.

Before I even begin, let me just state that in writing this, I do not labor under the delusion that teachers, as a group, are possessed of any extraordinary fashion sense. In fact, teachers are usually pretty abysmal dressers. However, that said, most teachers at least look professional when they go to work. Professional, for a teacher, means clean, somewhat matching clothing, and not slutty. If a teacher can get out the door in the morning having met all three of the abovementioned criterion, she's having a pretty good day. Of course, the issue with the male teacher's short sleeve, button down, polyester shirt, and the cheap brown rayon tie (Its always brown, isn't it? And not a nice soft or capuccino brown. And not with some nice little pattern. But rather unadulterated, un-fooled-around-with SHIT brown. I digress) is still very much present and on the table.

But here's the thing, there are other people whose line of work makes you expect them to dress nicely. And when they aren't dressed nicely, or appropriately for work as it were, it can be a bit surprising.

Take, for example, my encounter with a saleswoman at the Alpha Omega jewelery store this weekend. Stephen and I went in to Tiffany's first to look at a silver wedding band. It was only $135, and although the salesperson was very nice and friendly, he never even bothered to take out the little baton thingee and size our fingers. Clearly, the Tiffany's getto counter doesn't even warran a sizing. The guy there was dressed to the nines, with a full suit, vest, tie...the whole kit and caboodle.

We weren't sure about the ring at Tiffany's, so we made our way over to Alpha Omega. There, the salesman was as nice as can be and was dressed to kill. He took us through most of the process of trying on and choosing rings (and even though we were buying cheap-o bands, he still actually took out the baton thingee and measured our fingers...how nice!). At the end of our selection process, a female colleague of his walked over and started chit-chatting away with us. She seemed very nice, and very personable and was as pleasant as can be. However, the outfit she had on made her look more like she should be over at the Piercing Pagoda making eyes at the Orange Julius employee across the mall, than at Alpha Omega. Alpha Omega are in the middle of this huge push to make themselves one of Boston's first and foremost jewelers (they already have the fine watch market pretty much cornered), and they are always trying to present themselves as this posh store where the shopping experience will be sheer luxury.

So, what was with the woman's outfit, you ask?

Well, she was wearing the lowest slung pair of black, skin tight pants I have ever seen in my life. She was trying not to fall off her 7" platform wedges as she made her way around the store. Her painted-on white t-shirt was barely long enough to touch the top of her belly button (which made the pants seem even lower-slung), and she had a cheap-o belly button ring dangling in every direction. The t-shirt was mercifully "covered" by a jacket that was perhaps an inch longer than the t-shirt and had one button situated just beneath her boobs. The effect created here was, of course, to push the boobs up and out. She was wearing these wooden macramay earrings which hung well past her chin.



I know it seems like I'm being a total judgemental bitch. But keep in mind, if I were genuinely judgemental about this stuff, and if it truely bothered me, I would not have shopped there. If anything, I think its kind of funny, and I am just surprised that Alpha Omega allows that kind of workplace attire as it clearly in direct conflict with the upscale image they try to portray through their advertisement.

I admire a rebel. Rock on, rocker chick!




Today, when I was boarding the T, I was standing behind this young woman who clearly works as some kind of medical specialist. She was wearing pink nurse scrubs, but she had her own interpretation of how this look should be conveyed. She was wearing them "hip-hop" style, and, in spite of her tiny, diminutive frame, had put on at least a size XL pants. She then rolled the waist down about 14 times, until it was sitting just above her knees and she had to keep her legs spread 4 feet apart just to keep the things up. It was interesting watching her try to struggle onto the train while trying to maintain this hip-hop look with dignity. Come to think of it, as far as I can see, there is no dignity in wearing your pants ten sizes too big and walking around looking like you've shit yourself all day. Can somebody please tell me how people think this is supposed to make them look tough? Or cool? Or bad-ass? I just don't see it.

Again, if I had some medical emergency and she came up offering treatment, I wouldn't refuse. I'd be happy to have an expert on hand. But, Jesus, doesn't her boss at work say something to her about perhaps wanting her pants NOT to be falling down around her ankles? I mean, just from a practicality standpoint, the woman was forced to walk, nay shuffle, at such a slow gait in order to avoid any potentially embarrassing slippage, that if there really was a medical emergency that she had to walk to, the patient might die waiting for her to get there.




I was googling "baggy pants" and the first page of results yielded this picture of Manny Ramirez, of the Boston Red Sox. It is true that Manny's always had his own idea of just how a baseball uniform should look. But still, I always thought it looked ridiculous when he'd be out there with his arse hanging out of his trousers. You'd think at the very least, they'd get after him about the potential trip hazard over the seriously too-long cuff of his pants.

Screw it. I'm going to school tomorrow in a pair of those stupid pajama bottoms.

Busted Back...AGAIN

I'm out of work today with a busted back. Yesterday, I was foolish enough to sleep in (until 9) and then lounge around for many hours watching the boob tube. There were some stuipd movies on and stuff, and it was waaaaay too cold to go outside (real temp of 32 degrees, with a wind childd of 24 degrees...when I walked out to get a coffee, it was so cold and windy that there were tears in my eyes and my hands became instantly chapped.)

It never bodes well for my back to spend too much time sedentary. Its like my back muscles cash in upon any opportunity to get tight and rigid.

At around 2:00, we went to CVS, and in the car, I could feel my back becoming tighter and tighter. I was glad of the opportunity to walk around a little bit, to try to loosen things up. Lo and behold, when we arrived back at the apartment, I stepped out of the car and felt my whole back twinge out. I was supposed to go to Auntie Julie's for a post-dinner drink for Easter, but instead ended up on the floor, alternately icing and heating my back.

I decided to call in sick last night at around 8:00 when things did not seem to be improving.

The thing that really frustrates the hell out of me is that I walk every day, exercise all the time, and do a really seriously aggressive weight-lifting regime specifically designed for my back by my very capable physical therapists and doctors every other day religiously. I am honest-to-god doing 120 pound back extension/presses at this point, (2 sets of 15 reps, three times a week) and 50 pound dead lifts (same frequency) to try to strengthen this freakin back. I'm doing everything they tell me to do. For the most part, my back feels really good these days. But, then, reality sets in as I throw my back out reachign for a freakin' pack of Peeps at CVS.

The really fun part is that because I'm provided with NO BOOKS at school to teach, I can't simply send in lesson plans telling the kids to read a section and do a few questions. Oh, hells no. I have to prepare this big lesson plan and email it to a colleague who has to print it out and try to track down one of the kids to photocopy and staple for me.

Yet another argument in favor of actually having books in school!

GOOD Friday, Indeed!

I'm not a very religious person, but I'll fall to my knees and thank the Lord for giving us good Friday off. Or maybe that was our school committee. Either way, I'm extremely thankful. I know we teachers get a lot of time off, and most other professionals would laugh at this, but the stretch of time between February break and April break is unbearably long. There's nothing to look forward to in March. The month is long. There's not even a hint of a long weekend to be found. The weather sucks. Need I continue?

Speaking of crappy weather, it is 25 degrees here in Boston on this April 6th. Yes, I said 25 degrees. Yes....that IS INDEED 7 degrees below freezing. In April.

You can contend that I've lived in New England all my life and that I should be used to it by now. I'm used to it, but that doesn't mean I can't hate it. I have to take advantage of the day off to take care of some errands. I thought I might even do a little shopping. While I'm out, I might see if I can pick up a little light spring jacket, suitable for New England springs. Something like the little number pictured below.



In all seriousness, though, I think I will go on a hunt for wedding shoes today. I thought I found a decent pair, but they didn't have them in my size at the store, so they had to order them. When they came in the mail, I tried them on and felt like I'd stuck my foot into some animal trap. They were slightly uncomfortable. Let's just leave it at that.



I'll fill you in on any purchases I make.

As if you give a rat's ass!!

Ha ha. Peace out, y'all.

Boob Tube Update

I feel like I've been watching more TV than usual these past few days, and yet, I can't say that I've watched anything even remotely worthwhile. Not only that, but the shows I actually like to watch are annoyingly all in some re-run cycle.

Could it be due to that college basketball playoff crap? I wouldn't even mind this championship foolishness, but rather than just have 8 teams and whittling the numbers down from there, they start with every single college team in the whole USA and continue to have playoff showdowns on TV at primetime hours for months until they eventually reach the "Final 4." I just have one question. Who cares?

I live right next to Boston College, whose basketball team routinely makes it intolike the top thousand teams, which, according to college sports lore, is apparently a big deal. The BC kids are out in force, partying and celebrating, but I still can't manage to get myself caught up in the excitement
Again...I just don't give a crap.

I digress...

So, my TV watching has sunk to an all-time low in terms of quality.

Even the Trump Show has left me with somewhat of an empty, unsatisfied feeling this season. I think it all started when NBC moved the show from 8:00 to 10:00. They did this so that they can air two straight hour "specials" of that stupid, idiotic, "Deal or No Deal" show. I can't stand that thing. They prolong the process, opening up the stupid cases painfully slowly and making the most mundane, idiotic banter. I tried to watch it this Sunday, and I watched a father of five refuse the chance to take home close to 80,000 dollars (after first having turned down an opportunity to get 35,000 dollars and a chance to appear on some reality stand-up comedien show.) He got all ahead of himself and ended up literally going home with ten bucks.

I can't stand by and watch this crap. It was almost painful. I can't watch that show again.



As for Trump, I feel like I've taken a beating by this new late hour airing of the show. For several weeks, I have been unable to keep my eyes open long enough to watch. I've had to check the results of the previous night's episode on the website. Speaking of which, can you imagine my surprise and upset when I logged onto the site this Monday morning only to learn that the "Appreesetice" answers that I logged in as soon as they became available last Wednesday had not been recorded and I got NO points! I mean, granted, California Mo's progress in the game has been almost freakishly good. (I think she's sleeping with somebody in the Trump organization, truth be told). I was a distant, but respectable, second to California Mo for weeks. Last week, I slipped behind Reesie by 6 points. Hardly an intimidating margin. Now, however, I'm getting buried by her, because my answers were mysteriously discarded. I wonder if California Mo sabotaged me!

Also, my season pick, Tim, was canned this week. So, now I'm feeling a bit distanced from my once favorite show. I feel like Trump himself is turning his back on me, his number one fan!



I have to mention that I've watched American Idol for the very first time ever. I saw it last week, mostly because I heard there was some campaign to salvage the worst performer on the show, Sanjaya. I love that kind of subtrifuge, so I was all over seeing how crappy this kid really is. I have to say, the faux-hawk was pretty shocking, but there were other people on the show who sucked. But here's the thing...the two people who I thought sucked the most (some kid who sang a Cure song, and some woman who sang a No Doubt song) earned rave reviews from the judges. Simon included.

To my further disappointment, Randy and Paula Abdul seem to have a standard set of comments for each and every performance. They could literally have cut-outs of those two and just record their voices. Randy, subsequent to saying, "dawg, yo, yo, dawg" about 500 times, says that the person "broke it down" when he like the song, or that they "just didn't jive with the song" if he didn't like it." Abdul, when she likes a performer, tells them "Your personalitiy really shines through" or, "I didn't feel your personality" when she doesn't like it.

As for Simon. Boring. Hardly the acerbic critic I was hoping to see.

Wishful Thinking

Laurita tagged me last week and asked me to reveal 5 things that nobody knows about me. I'm just not that an intriguing of a person, so I was giving that one some thought before getting to it. However, today, when I checked in on Laurita's blog, I discovered a fun new twist on the same "tag." She was writing about 5 things she wishes were true about herself.

I like that one!

Here goes...

1. I am so slim that it is often difficult to find clothes to fit me. I mean, even the double-zeros are way too big. I'm absolutely swimming in them. I am going to lobby the top designers (whose clothes I can afford, of course) to introduce the triple-zero. That would probably still be roomy on me, but it would surely be better than these double-zero mumus.

2. My arms are completely buff. They look like they've been chisled out of stone by the capable hands of Michelangelo himself. Now, the funny thing is that I manage to maintain these squared shoulder blades and pop-up biceps without lifting a single weighht at the gym. The gym? What's that?

3. I am independently wealthy, or so I just discovered. It seems an uncle died recently and left me his millions. To that end, I retired last Friday. This is my first Monday off. I am just awake now because my beautiful husband, Jon Bon Jovi, is still in the habit of waking up early and making me breakfast. I couldn't hurt his feelings by refusing his gourmet meal and stayin in bed.

4. I will be purchasing a few new pieces of property today with my newfound wealth. I figure a villa in Croatia is the perfect place to start. I'll keep you posted as to what other new little estates I acquire along the way.

5. Folks, this is unbelievable....I just got off the phone with a Hollywood casting agent. He said that Samuel L. Jackson absolutely leapt at the chance to play me in the upcoming movie of my life.

What an exciting day!

Trading Places Jail scene

If you are a true child of the 80s, you will be able to recite this scene word for word, with th ecorrect inotnation and gusto! YEAH!!

The Magic of YouTube

I'm not sure what possessed me to long onto You Tube today, but that's exactly what I did. I think it all started when Stephen and I were discussing Justin Timberlake and I informed him that even though Timberlake is decidedly white, he's really got some kick-ass moves. Why did I have Timberlake on the brain, you ask? Well, after having read Reesie's blog entry about her reunion with her beloved JT, and after having walked through Kenmore Square last night where EVERY single club was blaring SexyBack, how could I NOT be thinking about him?

Anyway, one thing lead to another, and I decided to go to YouTube to see if there might be a brief clip of one of his videos. Brief cilp my arse...the entire video, and all of JT's others, were there for the full length viewing.

This led me to search for videos from other artists. I even hunted down the elusive "Lay Your Hands On Me" video by Bon Jovi. Good stuff.

Then, having heard that Ellen Degeneres had a great conversation with the subway hero who saved the guy's life in the tracks, I searched for and found that clip, too. Shit, I even found a clip with President Clinton and Jon Bon Jovi on Ellen's show together. Now why wasn't I in the audience for that one????





And then I found the prison scene from my favorite movie of all times, the cinematic classic, "Trading Places."

What...you haven't seen it? Well...you don't know what you're missing out on....because you're a big Barry White lookin' mother f#$%er!

I'm Back!

I think I have to give up on the Mac blog for a while. The publishing time is excruciatingly long. I know, I know...can you believe I have something negative to say bout anything Apple related?

I'll make sure to direct you back to the page from time to time if I have any new photo albums posted or anything of the like, but for the time being, I'm going to hang out here on Blogger.

So, with no further ado, I'm back!

New Blog

I can't seem to figure out how to insert a hyperlink to my new website, but please try to cut and paste the following address to get to my new site. It is pretty cool. You will be taken to the welcome page. At the top of the site is a navigation menu. You can click on photo albums or blogs or whatever. Give it a try!

http://web.mac.com/nancybakey/iWeb/Life%20and%20Times%20of%20Nants/Welcome.html

Growing up in Somerville...Baby Dolls, Sugar Daddies, and a Pack of Marlboros

Jules raised an interesting memory in her comment about my "Letter to Ricky Schroeder" blog entry. I was going to simply comment back to her, but then I realized that this memory is simply too good to relegate to a comment column in a past blog entry. Some of my faithful readers might never find it there and will therefore never be able to join me in reliving a priceless childhood memory.

I must have been 7 or 8 years old when this went down. That would have put Lauren at around 10, Jules at 11 or so, Reesie at 6 and Fwiz at a mere 4 years old.

I received a baby doll for Christmas. Her name was "Baby Sandra." Matthew rechristened her "Baby Dirt-ra." (He thought "sand" was too gentle, so he replaced that syllable of the baby's name with "dirt.") We all accepted this and moved on as if the name "Dirtra" were the most logical progression from "Sandra." No complaints were raised, no argument put forth. Such was the power Matthew had over us.

I should mention, to my "new blog friends" that Matthew was our uncle who passed away at the tender age of 37 just a few years ago. He was my mother's much younger brother; he was only 10 years older than Lauren. He was very much like an older brother to all of my cousins and me. And he took this role very seriously...particularly the aspect of the role of older brother that requires inflicting torture and abuse. And yet, we all loved him!

Anyway, like all little girls, we often found the need to deface our dolls. Barbie dolls got hideous haircuts. Baby dolls were inked with tattoos of snakes, knives, daggers, and other such symbols, and rag dolls were used as practice for our future as coroners.

Dirtra, however, was a favorite target for some reason. She was pretty cutting edge back in 1980. When you rubbed her back, she giggled and cooed. She had a little hole in her mouth for a baby bottle (the milk would disappear when the bottle was tipped upside down).

Matthew discovered, for some reason that I can't explain to this day, that if he inserted his lit Marlboro into Dirtra's mouth and squeezed her belly, she would become filled with smoke. When he removed the cigarette, he would squeeze the belly again, and a stream of smoke would flow out of her mouth. In fact, since her mouth was rounded, if he just squeezed her in the right way, she would emit a series of perfectly shaped smoke rings. In these instances, she was more reminiscent of Betty Grable than a plastic baby doll.

But the fun didn't stop with turning my poor innocent dolly into a chain smoking louse.

On Christmas day, as per usual, we all convened at my grandparents' place. We used to each bring one favorite Christmas toy. I brought baby Dirtra, which was a departure from the ordinary because I had not even received her for Christmas. I had already had her for some time, but I really liked her.

Anyway, Jules discovered an absolutely massive Sugar Daddy pop that somebody had given to my grandfather. Wise move on behalf of the gift giver, who undoubtedly knew of my grandfather's ill-fitting dentures. Perhpas whoever gave him this gift was just trying to get him to eat the sticky confection and literally glue his mouth shut.

Anyway....

Somehow Jules discovered that if she lifted the 8 pound sugar daddy high over hear head and then made it reign down on Dirtra's butt with blunt force, Dirtra would react with a little giggle and coo, as if she had been gently rubbed and coddled. Well, this was too tempting. We all had to have a go. Even Matthew got in on the action. And yes, he probably WAS pushing 20 at the time.

We were all literallly lined up, having put Dirtra on the stand that usually held my grandfather's plaid beanbag ashtray so as to have perfect aim at her.

Eventually, Uncle Paul walked into the room and was HORRIFIED by the spectacle he saw playing out before him. Within seconds, my mother, Auntie Julie and Auntie Mary were descending upon us in sheer anger and disgust. I think a few of us even suffered Sugar Daddy blows. We all got busted, but I'm pretty sure I had the worst beating of all. After all, the thing was my doll. I probably should have tried to defent it. Instead, I was right in the thick of the action.

All I know is that, somehow, Matthew managed to extract himself from the situation right at the critical moment before Uncle Paul witnessed any of the violence. He had a gift for knowing when to get out of the room right before the real trouble came.

Poor Baby Dirtra.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

Below are a few shots of today's MCAS camp field trip to Boston's Fenway Park. With the way the Red Sox are performing these days, this isn't the prized real estate that it usually would be, but the kids had a fantastic guy. The tour guide was hilarious. At least the teachers thought so. Most of his jokes went right over the kids' heads. Just the way we like it!









Anyway, I have to get some errands done. I have about 3 tons of laundry that must get done. I have not had a chance to get any laundry done since my return from Croatia, so I naturally have piles and piles of it to do. I hate going to the laundromat, but if I skip it for another day, I'll be wearing a bathrobe to school tomorrow. And seeing as where it is the last day of camp and parents are coming for a slide show, I should probably not wear bedwear to school.

I also have to go over and take a look at Lauren's Mac. Her computer has been doing some strange things and she isn't sure how to deal with a Mac yet. I suppose it would be like an expert driver who has driven nothing but automatic all his life trying to suddently switch to stick. I know she knows how to use a PC, but the transition to Mac can be a little shakey at first. Of course, like those who drive stick vehicles and claim that the ride is vastly superior, I know that when she "shifts gears" to the Mac way of life, she'll never look back and she'll wonder how she made due with inferior PCs her whole computer using life.

When I first got my Mac, I spent a few hours on the phone trying to figure stuff out. I know, though, that with her two little kids, she just does not have that kind of time. So, I'll be her "Apple guy" and go over and hopefully sort things out.

Steve Jobs, you should just step aside, be-otch! I'm about to unseat you from your Apple throne!

Wicked Game

My friend, Gene, who works for a radio station and is constantly scoring tickets for all kinds of shows, offered Stephen and me a couple of tickets to tonight's Chris Isaak show. Other than the melodic and seductive "Wicked Game" I don't think I even know any Chris Isaak songs. But, since I really do LOVE that song, and since Gene and our other friend Meg were already on board to see the show, Stephen and I decided to get in on the act.

There ended up being an extra ticket, so my friend and colleague, Barbara, joined us, too.

I have to say that the show was EXCELLENT.

Isaak's voice is smooth, sultry and lighthearted all at once. His stage presence was electrifying and he clearly enjoyed every moment of his performance as much as the audience members did. He made several rounds of the audience, stopping to sing directly to fans, or to dance with the ladies. Toward the end of the show, he even invited about 30 women up onto the stage with him while he performed a couple of lively tunes.

The guy was actually really, really funny, too. He was possessed of that really witty, intelligent humor that makes an already handsome man seem absolutely irresistable. All the ladies in the audience felt the magnetism.

I am really glad I went to the show. I sometimes hesitate to go see bands if I'm not familiar with a wide body of their work. But, in this case, I at least know Chris Isaak and really thought it might be a fun night out. The show was at the outdoor Pavilion in Boston. The weather was mild and hey, the summer will be over before we know it. I'd be wishing I had taken advantage of a great outdoor experience like this.

I am tired, and dread having to get up early for school tomorrow, but I am very happy to have gone to the show.

Barbara pointed out that Isaak appears to be morphing into Kurt Russell as he gets older. He did bear an uncanny resemblance to Goldie Hawn's main squeeze as he crooned from the stage, but still, I just tried not to envision him playing Goldie's long lost husband in the box office smash "Overboard" and stayed focused on the singing.

I would strongly recomment checking out Isaak at a nearby venue if you have the chance. Of course, if you can get Gene to score you some free tickets, that would work even more strongly to your advantage.

Oh, the last thing I wanted to point out is that I was surprised by Isaak's bedazzled leisure suit wardrobe. As I said, I know very little about the guy, but I always picture him in that "Wicked Game" video, cozied up to some supermodel on the beach, much like a Calvin Klein perfume commercial. I always had that image and thought he would be sort of a stylish, sleek, Euro-trashy dresser. The suit, (which is the exact one as what you see pictured below) surprised me. The finale outfit was even more shocking. Black sequins. Pure shine, baby!

Unlike Rick Schroeder, Isaak has no half baked shit to shove up his ass.

If Schroeder ranks a 10 out of 10 on the half baked shit scale, I'd have to give Isaak a zero. Isaak was the real deal!