When strangers tell you to eat it: at least give it a whirl?

17 Oct

Friday was a perfect fall evening, so Alan and I decided to do a little “urban exploring” – which is essentially my way to convince him to to walk around my neighborhood with me, but it sounds more exciting.

The excuse for our foray was a LivingSocial coupon providing a $25 credit at Cork & Fork on 14th Street, so we headed there. Unbeknownst to us, the store was hosting a private event – which might be why my “Spartan” sweatshirt elicited so many snotty looks.

(When we walked in, I thought, “Since when do people wear little black dresses to the liquor store?” and then, “This guy is NOT doing a good job trying to get us to taste his wine – he’s practically snubbing us!”) Fortunately Alan was a bit more dialed in so he asked the sales clerk if it was a private tasting. It was. Oops.

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I got balls: a case of too little, too late.

16 Oct

Anyone who has followed my move knows that while I love my new place, I’m less than thrilled with my upstairs neighbor’s squeaky floorboard. On Monday I got the best news possible: Michael stopped down to tell me that he was having his floors replaced this week!

Sweet, right? I practically did backflips. He went on to say that he’s going to get carpet in his bedrooms, so that should also help with the noise. Fabulous!

But after he left, I got to thinking about it. He mentioned that he was having the floors ripped out in the living room and hall, where he was replacing them with new wood, but didn’t say anything about tearing them out in the bedroom before carpeting. The next morning, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling as it squeaked – to a rhythm that makes me believe he must have been jerking off – I realized it was time to be bold.

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I commend his focus.

14 Oct

WordPress has a filter that flags comments that appear to be spam before allowing them to post. Nonetheless, I get a kick out of reading them, in large part because they are generally gibberish and chock full of spelling and grammatical errors.

This one made me smile. This guy is not even trying to mask his cause:

I’m actually tempted to email him. The responses I’m considering include:

  • Not especially. Why are you so hot on them?
  • Not as much as I like the rims of basketball hoops.
  • Can you please be more specific? The rim of WHAT on my car?
  • Dude: you are a bit desperate for validation. See a therapist.

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Rant: The SHOCK and HORROR when a Hollywood Couple Separates.

13 Oct

 

It's almost like they posed so that they could cut the photo in half.

 

Over the last few days, I’ve been shocked by how much attention Courteney Cox and David Arquette’s split is receiving on the internet. (Perhaps on TV too, but since I don’t own one, I’m blissfully ignorant.)

Really? People give a shit about the relationship of two celebrities? And correct me if I’m wrong, but most relationships have 50/50 odds on working out and Hollywood seems to have a much lower success rate. So why is it surprising that Courteney and David can’t make it work? Besides, do we actually know these people? Are we so acquainted with them that we never saw this coming from all our time observing their happiness?

Sorry, I just don’t get it.

Know what I find shocking? How blunt and open Arquette seems to have been when he called into Howard Stern’s show. I didn’t hear it, but if this blog article is accurate, it sounds like he let it all hang out. I actually think it’s kind of funny that he’s admitting that he is an overgrown child that she got tired of mothering.

The only reason I surfed to that article was to figure out what all the fuss was about – why I’d seen so many Facebook statuses talking about “Dave and Court” as if they were actual friends. What I find entertaining are the comments that people took the time to post in response to the blog post. A few of my favorites, categorized:

From “Mrs. I Hate My Marriage But God Won’t Let Me Leave” we have:

And from “Mr. I’ll Never Win a N.O.W. Award” there’s this sage advice:

 

I like that he received 5 thumbs-downs for this comment - and uses Obama's "hope" image as his photo.

 

And finally, “Mr. I Can’t Wait to Go Home and Beat My Wife” says:

You know what I found most shocking of all? How Courteney spells her name. Anyone want to tell her she has an extra ‘E’ floating around in there?

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An epiphany on the potter’s wheel.

12 Oct

I’ve always thought I might enjoy pottery, so when a space opened up at Hinckley Pottery – a few blocks from my house – I decided to give it a go. I’ve now had three classes, and have thrown six bowls, trimmed four and am about to fire my fire few so I can glaze them.

Everyone assumes it’s therapeutic, but I think you have to get good at it before that’s the case. (People say that about yoga too, and I’d give the same response.) Actually – now that I think about it, perhaps it IS therapeutic and I’m just too competitive to achieve that zen-like state. (Same for yoga.)

Let’s just say, when it comes to a pedal (be it on a car, a  sewing machine or a potter’s wheel), I know only one speed: FLOORED.

Whenever the teacher walks by me, she’s like, “Alison, I think you might want to slow your wheel down a bit.”

And I turn it down until she’s past me – then floor it again. Because at that pace, I can make twice as many bowls as my classmates in two hours.

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