why ARE there so many single girls in their 30s these days, bridget?

"fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. oh, and fuck you."

i was yelling. in the middle of an empty metro station.

i had just seen this.

make your friends live vicariously through you.

make them wish they were one of those girls, those girls who squeal with delight as they show off their engagement ring; only they're not gazing down at the ring anymore - they're looking at the single girls faces, hoping they are squirming with jealousy. "that's right. carlton picked it out all himself. i love him. he's perfect." you just love your three carat hunk of coal for which some poor boy from sierra leone lost an arm. hope you're happy, brianne.

make them wish they were one of those girls who suddenly points at things with her left hand, gets a manicure every four days to keep her hands just so, who waves at waiters from across the dining room just to see her diamond flicker and shine in the candlelight. "excuse me, more veuve clicquot." snap snap.

excuse me while i vomit all over your cushion cut, six-pronged platinum, self-validator.

whoever approved this ad campaign, (ahem ahem marketing director over at a diamond is forever dot com) is a misdirected tool. and, if i can ever figure out who it is, i'll be telling them just that.


Free Association

all through the day, song lyrics have popped into my head in reference to actual, real life conversations.

"you really shouldn't be laid back in a meeting."
laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind

"come over here."
lover, you should've come over

"it's been a long day at work."
can you work it? lemme work it. i put my thing down flip it and reverse it.

"are you going out tonight?"
everybody wang chung tonight

"..they come into the lobby, and you'll then escort them onto the elevator and to the 10th floor..."
love in an elevator, lovin' it up while i'm going down

"they're in the back of the office, playing that game where they throw a ball into a box."
i wish i were a little bit taller, i wish i were a baller, i wish i had a girl who looked good - i would call her

"i talked to my dad last night."
i love it when you call me big poppa

"no, i'll miss the party tomorrow as i have to go to santa barbara for work."
goin' back to cali...cali...cali...

"shouldn't you be on a train by now?"
come on ride a train, and ride it

"i am! technology!"
i love technology, but not as much as you, you see...but i STILL love technology...always and forever.

does this stuff happen in other people's heads?!


Hit Me with Your Best Shot

i have been slammed lately! slammed with work or bad moods, i couldn't think of anything good to write here.

but now, ladies and gentleman, i have something good GREAT! to share.

drum roll please...

after months of longing and remembering and wishing it were true (sniff sniff), I AM GOING BACK TO MEXICO CITY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Life kicks ass, eh?


Nothing But the Best

catherine, i think they are on tv, i said.

"no, no, just perry. not my husband. he's been drinking."

"oh, i'm pretty sure i see steve's red Texas shirt. how could i miss it?!"

"oh. my. god. that IS steve. shit!" catherine actually said shit, and she ran over to the crowd of tv cameras, overhead mics and onlookers that were surrounding perry & steve.

"...oh, i'd say the pat downs are the airport were better than here. mostly cause they wear more form-fitting uniforms." steve was being interviewed by mo rocca for the tonight show!!

a few seconds later i hear mo ask something about the Presidential balls, meaning inaugural, but perry responded with, "well, i guess he's only got two..." and steve followed up with, "and you've got them right in your hands..."

you can tune in for their television debut thursday or friday night.

other honorable mentions for the night include: genevieve's flashing bob schneider - TWICE!, bonnie's dancing against the stage so much that she bruised her knees, d's wearing a shiner bock label on his forehead, jessica's serious booty shakin', and catherine's delivery of plate after plate of jalapeno poppers and vodka tonics, her "official inaugural beverage."

i don't why anyone would bother being friends with people other than my friends.

they are just so fucking awesome.


In a House in France All Covered with Vines Lived One Little Girl...With 2 Handles of Tequila

while in mexico city this past august i was fortunate enough to meet rodolfo, otherwise known as ofo, who is a good friend of one of my good friends here in dc. i had never laid eyes on him until we rolled into a bar in polanco where he was already a few drinks in with his friends.

needless to say, it was an amazing night, and one of my best memories of mexico. it was fascinating to spend time with people who are like you while on vacation. these are young professionals who work and talk about love and movies and vacations - they just do it all in spanish. and in better jeans.

ofo was a wonderful host and despite his incessant recitation of "help me obi wan kenobi; you're my only hope," we have remained friends, mostly via email. yesterday i got this from him, and it just about knocked my socks off.

"you strike me as a "Chic" that appreciates culture, surely very serious but is not afraid to throw down. I think your name suits you perfectly, all neat and tidy. I would even say that if you wouldn't have been born you would be the main character of a children's book, maybe Madeleine's hard-core party half sister or something."

i'm pretty sure we're going to get married.


Sugar and Spice and...

yesterday i received an email inviting me to join a recipe tree. according to the email, i was to send one recipe to one person, move some names around, send the invitation to ten people and VIOLA! i would receive 36 recipes.

sounds great, right?

so far, all i've gotten is this:

Skanky Biotch

Take one Big Lady and one John "I make the goofiest jokes on the planet" Carlos and mix. Bake in oven for nine months. Remove from oven sprinkle with charm, charisma and the ability to wear the same t-shirt for four days straight. Add obsession with hott men, a touch of booty-shakin' and a dash of "not proud."

26 years later you will have One Skanky Biotch.


Conversations with Los

[jason:] "oh that girl, she's a fag hag."

[los:] "am i a fag hag?"

[jason:] "no, you're a fruit fly."

[los:] "what's the difference?"

[jason:] "well, a fag hag basically devotes herself to gay men. she gives up her sexuality. a fruit fly, on the other hand, hangs out with her gay friends and has a great time, but still wants to get laid."

[los, after thoughtful contemplation:] "oh yeah. that's me."



i am pleased to report that bonnie is no longer smoking. done. finito. cold turkey.

no mas ehsmoking.

and, like a bad ass, she is totally succeeding. it's been one week today, and girlfriend hasn't even had one single puff. although last night she was grabbing unlit cigarettes and smelling them in a fevered, molly shannon kind of way.

"molly shannon is funny and all, but you don't want to fuck her..."

well, she is my SUPERSTAR!

but p.s. - if she does fall off, internet, y'all are going to get one helluva photo!



i'm not sure if it's worse that i am crying at my desk, or that i am crying at my desk and no one has noticed. am i usually this pink & puffy?

my grandad died yesterday. or maybe tuesday night. i guess; we don't really know, since he died in his sleep. and that's the best way to go. i guess; we don't really know. he had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure a long while back, but he was doing perfectly fine for a long time. and then he needed oxygen, but just a little tank and it came with the push-scooter-thing and it actually wasn't intrusive at all. he could leave it behind if we needed to go to dinner or something like that, and he was the same ole grandad, the one who never stopped talking about football or the war or how much he loves Bush.

so when i came home for christmas, i asked when the grandparents were coming over for christmas eve church. "they're not," i was told. okay, no big deal...so when are they coming over tomorrow for christmas day? "they're not," i was told again. "grandad isn't doing too well."

but even then i wasn't prepared for what i saw christmas day. grandad was really thin. he was on more oxygen, and leaving it behind wasn't an option now. his hair was much longer, since he hadn't been able to leave the house to cut it, and his Roll Tide cap sat awkwardly on his head. he didn't have the energy to open his presents, but he got excited about everyone of them. he just sat in his chair and told us each how much he loved us, and how we'd never really know, while his eyes filled with tears.

"you know, if i had a son, that son would be john carlos. he is the best dad ever, and i love him." and i looked at my dad and he had tears in his eyes, too.

then grandad turned to me and told me how to buy a car. yes, how to buy a car. see, grandad had been a car salesman, and he explained to me how to find the best value for your money, buying new or used. it was as if he wanted to give me this one last life lesson, just in case he never had the chance again. it was ridiculously amusing and sad, at the same time. bittersweet.

my grandad was always supportive, always easygoing, always happy to see us, always good for a long (and i mean long) talk. he could talk about anything and he loved to tell stories. particularly war stories. he has scrapbooks of photographs and letters and travel journals, documenting all his years in the navy. he told stories of how he was the youngest man on the ship so the other guys used to make him do all kinds of harebrained pranks, like the time they lowered him by a rope around the waist into the gully of the ship to steal some booze and food.

but the best story he ever told me, the one i had him retell on christmas day, happened towards the end of the war. he never knew it's significance, however, until many years later. at my parents rehearsal dinner grandad and pawpaw, my father's father, were talking about the war and sharing memories of where they had been and when. grandad asked pawpaw if he had ever been in the philippines.

"why yes, as a matter of fact." replied pawpaw. and he explained which island he was on.

"where you there in 1943?" asked grandad.

"yes, yes i was." pawpaw was astonished.

pawpaw's unit had been under heavy attack and a rescue naval unit had been sent in to get them out. as it turns out, it was grandad's unit that had been sent in to rescue pawpaw's unit. they had been on the same ship at the same time in the middle of the world's craziest war.

my step-mother's father had saved my father's father's life.

and they didn't know it until almost 50 years later.

i've always been grateful for that. my life, and those of my whole family, might have been very different had that coincidence never taken place. but i never told grandad thank you. it seemed too sappy, to overly sentimental (even for me) to say thank you. so i'll say it now.

thank you, grandad. i love you.