Thanksgiving

There are many things to give thanks for this year. My sister Jenny has returned home from school and it has been nice having her around, especially when it comes to taking weekend trips because she can look after the dogs. Just KIDDING!

The other day she called me and said, "I was talking to someone about you. He asked me if I was close to my sister and I said--Yeah, we're REALLY close. In fact, I think she's one of my best friends. Actually, I think she's by best friend. OH MY GOSH! My sister is my BEST FRIEND!"

This doesn't come as a shock to people who have a normal siblinghood, but Jenny was born when I was 14, so I've been more of a substitute mom until a few years ago. Now that we're both (ahem) adults, it's been super-nice having a real human person I helped raise become a true friend.

Other things I am thankful for this year is that SOMEONE has FINALLY rented our apartment--no more paying two mortgages!! Also, Peter has TONS of vacation time this month. In fact, he's only going to be going to work for 5 days this month and we might even be able to take a small trip out to San Francisco.

I've finally set up my living room and my kitchen--so now all I need to do is sort out all of my clothes in the bedroom--NOT looking forward to it...So the move has been pretty smooth.

Another thing I am thankful for is our NEW SHOWER HEAD--the one that mixed air with water so that our piddly no-pressure shower is now GUSHING WITH WATER.

I am thankful that my new memory-foam mattress arrived and I've been sleeping so soundly these past few weeks...now if only that platform bed will arrive soon...

The dogs are thankful that we now have a great big yard for them to frolic in and I'm thankful that I no longer have to stand out in the freezing cold waiting for them to "do their business."

I am NOT thankful that I found my first gray hair this year---it seems to be the only one. When I told my friends Karen and Elliott about it, they both said, "I've been going gray since I WAS TWENTY-EIGHT." So I guess I'm thankful that I have only just started going gray at the ripe old age of 36.

Most of all, I'm thankful that although my parents were hours late for Thanksgiving dinner, Jenny didn't bring the pumpkin pie she said she was going to bring, and my mother-in-law got so skunk-drunk that she was stumbling all over the apartment, Thanksgiving at our house TURNED OUT AWESOME.

UNFRIEND!!

Peter's sister has been doing the oddest thing. Instead of picking up the phone or emailing him like a normal person, she sends all her correspondence to him via Facebook.

Like, the time she couldn't come to the Surprise! party, she posted it ON HIS WALL.

That's right, so all of his friends can see what a douche she is.

For the past four years since Peter's father has died, Peter's mom has gone over to stay at this sister's home for Christmas. And of course, a wonderful time is had by all--in this case, wonderful means having your daughter completely ignore you, cook her own meals and eat them in front of you while not preparing anything for you, oh yeah, and then there's that time she snuck off to Church without bringing you, even though you wanted to go.

That's right. GOOD times.

So this morning, Peter finds a Facebook message from her stating that her husband isn't going to be able to pick up their mother for Christmas, so she hopes that Peter is going to be able to spend time with her that day.

Of course, this latest blow comes after numerous telephone conversations between Peter's mother and her two daughters over the past few weeks about how she is TOO OLD to be cooking the elaborate Thanksgiving feast she prepares every year so they're no longer going to come over for that holiday.

She WANTS to prepare Thanksgiving dinner because it's one of the few occasions his family does come over. Usually, if she doesn't see them on Thanksgiving or Easter, she doesn't see them at all.

I love how the pretense to all this is that they CARE SO MUCH about how she troubles herself every year to prepare all the food, when in reality, they just can't be bothered to come over. It wouldn't bother me so much if they made ANY EFFORT at all to visit her, but sometimes years will go by before she sees them.

I know that this is Peter's family and I shouldn't get worked up about this, but it does upset me to see everyone in the family treat his mother so shabbily. And a part of me is annoyed that there's a THOUSAND excuses everyone give on why they can't come visit her--and that there's this feeling amongst the siblings that it's fine, because she's got Peter. The thing is, it would be nice if Peter had ANY support from his siblings when it comes to his parents. Sadly, they're all extremely terrible self-centered people.

I was all, "So, did she post that on ALL of your sibling's Facebook pages or just you?"

And Peter said, "That's it. I'm going to have to Unfriend her now. Not only Unfriend her, but BLOCK HER."

Dog Booties for Lazy People

Now that we have moved back into the house, I remember now why I used to go to Costco and buy boxes and boxes of baby wipes. The dog's paws get SO dirty. We have gotten them booties in the past, but EVERY dog bootie I've ever bought has been SUPER breakable and lostable so I was trolling the internet to find a review of some good ones.

Unfortunately, there are some that cost $50/set!!!!

I mean, I am NOT spending $50 on SHOES FOR DOGS.

Although I love the lady on the video who is demonstrating and explaining the differences between the HIGH PERFORMANCE boot and the standard boot. Her accent reminds me so much of my friend Andrew's family.

Check out the video "Chapter 3 of 6, otherwise known as, "The Features of the High Performance Boots." At the 1:18 mark she says, "...the fyattest pahhnt of the pahhhw."

I would know that New Englandy Bostony accent anywhere.

One time when I was over at Andrew's grandmother's house, her son came home and the conversation went like this:

"Where'd-yah paaaahhhhrrk the cahhhhhr?"

"I paaaahhhhrrked the cahhhhr in the gahhhraaaaaahhge."

"Which gahhhhhraaaaahhhge did'ya paaaahhhrk the caaaaaahhhr?"

Anyway, she seems like a nice lady and I'm sure that's a mighty fine dog boot, but basically, shoes for dogs ends up merely being a bit of fleece with some grippy material and Velcro on them. That is a HUGE markup on fleece and Velcro.

So I trolled the internet for "diy dog booties" and I found this website.

Peter catches me crouching over the floor with the duct tape and he says, "Stop wasting that! It's expensive!"

And I say, "Oh, really? But is it $50 expensive, 'CAUSE THAT'S HOW MUCH WE'RE SAVING."

He refused to let me make more than the one boot I had already made. When I slipped it around Scout's paw to see how it would fit, she tolerated it for about one nanosecond before flinging it clear cross the kitchen. And she had this look on her face like, "NOW what? WHAT is the MATTER with you YOU CRAZY HUMAN!"

Peter said, "I know you're too lazy to wipe their paws, but let's say you make eight duct tape dog booties. Where are you going to keep EIGHT DIRTY DUCT TAPE DOG BOOTIES? Not in MY kitchen."

That Peter, always thinking ahead to the future.

I went back to my computer to see if I can find another solution and then found this lovely couple showing me how to make dog boots with balloons. INGENIOUS!

I love how the lady says "Balloooooons..." and how her husband repeats the last few words of her sentences. They are SO CUTE! And they both LOVE that dog.

The balloon thing, that's a MUCH better idea than the ziplock bags I had planned on using.

Can you imagine the horror on my neighbor's face as she looks out her window with her morning coffee?

"What did that girl PUT on her dog's FEET? OH MY GOODNESS!! I think they're ZIPLOCK BAGS!!"

And her boyfriend will say:

"WHAT is the MATTER with that CRAZY HUMAN?"

That HAIR

Today at the post office I actually saw a soccer mom with Kate Gosselin's hairstyle.

Fer REAL!!

I even blinked my eyes and rubbed them a little bit before looking again just to make sure. And today was NOT Halloween.

I Love the 80s...Miniseries!

I don't think that there's one person who grew up in the eighties who doesn't remember when the slimy green alien lizard baby crawled out of Robin Maxwell during that pivotal scene in the V miniseries.

EVERYONE talked about it the next day at school.

It was one of my favorite miniseries growing up and for some odd reason, my mother let me watch it. She didn't allow me to watch Lace, the only thing I knew about it was from the commercials with Phobe Cates saying, "Which one of you BITCHES is MY MOTHER!"

She also didn't allow me to watch SHOGUN--I don't remember, why was that inappropriate? Oh wait, it's not that I don't remember, it's that I don't know. I NEVER GOT TO SEE IT.

My mother let me watch the remake of Splendor in the Grass until the scene where Bud Stamper squeezes Deanie Loomis's hands and she falls to her knees. That's when my mother told me to go to my room because she had seen this movie before and it was INAPPROPRIATE. Of course it's inappropriate, it's all about sexual desire. Who were the geniuses who decided that it would be great to cast Melissa Gilbert of the Little House on the Prairie for that film, knowing that diehard eight-year-old Little House fans (such as myself) DESPERATELY wanted to see her in this movie?

The one saving grace was that she told me that she would personally watch the movie AS A FAVOR to me and tell me the appropriate parts of the story the next morning before school.

When I asked her what happened, my mother said, "Oh, that girl and boy never ended up together...she was better off because he ended up being poor and married to some poor slob and SHE married A DOCTOR!"

Can you blame me that for years I didn't believe her version of the story because it's so Chinese to tell your daughter that you're better off not falling in love with that handsome boy in high school because what you really want to do is save yourself for A DOCTOR!

Anyway, back to V.

For some inexplicable reason, she let me watch this one...although how is alien sex and lizard babies appropriate television for children? And I LOVED it. It's partly the reason why I love sci-fi and why I spent my high school years trolling the science fiction sections of bookstores and having total nerds suggest Orson Scott Card novels to me. Although once in high school, the cutest boy in school admitted to me during one of our 8-hour-long conversations (if I knew then what I know now, we would have SO DATED because now I know that boys NEVER talk with a girl that long unless he liked her...DUH! Why was I so stupid in high school?) that he loved Lloyd Alexander and I had never felt closer to any other human being. And then a few days later he told me to start listening to Steve Winwood.

So how excited was I that a NEW V SERIES was being produced!?!?!?!?

Let's just say I was s'excited and literally COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS until the pilot aired.

Unfortunately, now I know that V stands for V'terrible.

They obviously spent a lot of money on great actors (except for that terrible Scott Wolf--which should have been a sign) and awesome production stuff like special effects and I guess by the time they were all done, there wasn't any money left for writers.

I felt that the show was SO unrealistic and Peter said, "Uhm...the show is about lizard aliens who come and harvest people. How is that show going to be realistic?"

The thing is, when you have a show that is Cuh-RAZY, you still need to center it around the reality of that universe. I mean, those human characters are WAAAAY too calm about aliens announcing their arrival on their huge plasma screen on their spaceship. Cheering? Really? Like, THAT'S the way these writers think that human beings will react to the news that we're not alone on this planet?

Hmmm. Have those writers ever MET A HUMAN BEING? Because we all would be going SO APESHIT.

Instead, these people are all, "Lahdidah...let's all go up to the alien spaceship and check it out!"

Also, I felt that the whole lizard-reveal happened WAY too early. Peter felt that the producers might have been forced to make the reveal early because EVERYBODY ALREADY KNOWS that they are lizards.

I disagree. The most tragic of the Greek tragedies are more so BECAUSE the audience already knows what's going to happen. There's an incredible relationship you can build with an audience when they are in on the secret. I felt that the show should have waited to make the reveal--but instead, they blew their load and now when we watch the show, it's just me screaming at the television, "REALLY? You have this AWESOME story and THIS is how you're going to execute it?"

And Peter's mumbling, "That poor Elizabeth Mitchell. Things were going so well for her..."

Anniverscary #5 Nothing Made of Wood Was Given

Traditionally, the 5th wedding anniversary calls for a gift of something made out of wood (insert crass joke here).

Instead of giving or receiving blocks of wood, we were ORGANIZING ALL OUR SHIT. I went out at 2am to pick up some Halloween candy...to no avail because NOT ONE KID SHOWED UP.

So what it was drizzling rainwater all day long? That would not have stopped me at the ages of 5 through around 18...yes I went trick-or-treating at the age of 18--I had little ten-year-old and four-year-old sisters. I couldn't just steal all THEIR candy, now could I? That would be CRUEL and MEAN.

These Westchester kids are total wimps.

Now Peter and I are eating all the bags of Butterfingers, Baby Ruths, Nestle Crunches and Kit Kats all by ourselves. Every once in a while, I'll walk into the kitchen and see Peter surreptitiously unwrapping yet another yellow candy wrapper.

And then I shout:

Those are NOT FOR YOU!!

Those are to be saved for NEXT YEAR!!

That's right, if you don't come by my house, you get STALE CANDY next year. Suckers!!

So we've been unpacking and unpacking and unpacking and I've been cleaning and cleaning and cleaning.

Our tenant apparently got tar EVERYWHERE and I've been scrubbing things I've never scrubbed before...like an inch of brown gook off the tops and bottoms of our kitchen cabinets. The tops of our cabinets had this brown yucky goo all over the top, which made me TOTALLY FREAK OUT.

I got those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers...those things were put together by magic elves and fairies because it's the only thing that gets that stuff out. Plus I rubbed some on my disgusting toaster and it is now BRAND-NEW-SHINY!!

For the past few days, I've been saying to Peter, "Isn't that toaster SO SHINY?"

And he responds by saying, "Uhm...yeah...it is..."

Which is not the reaction I'm gunning for. The reaction I'm gunning for is:

"OH MY FUCKING GOWD THAT TOASTER IS SO SHINY I CAN'T BELIEVE IT--YOU WORKED SOME PURE UNICORN MAGIC ON THAT FUCKING TOASTER!!"

Since I didn't get the proper reaction, I keep asking the question over and over and by the fourth day, Peter was all, "Yes, that toaster LOOKS FANTASTIC!! Please leave me alone now!"

I wanted to go out for our anniverscary, but we just didn't feel up to it. We both wanted to rid ourselves of all the piles of boxes in our house. Every time we broke down a box, we would shout the number to each other. So Halloween will be the day I will always remember as the anniversary we were screaming "NINETEEN!" and TWENTY-FIVE!!" at each other instead of getting dressed up and going to the the Blue Hill at Stone Barns. Ah, memories...

Moving in the Rain SUCKS!!

Let's just say that the title just SAYS IT ALL.

More will come, I promise, including part 2 of the Surprise! party...

Moving...Again

Here I am packing up boxes in the middle of the night.

Fun.

Let's see, how many moves does this make?

2001 (right after 9/11 into our first 1-bedroom coop--that was fun with the cops pulling over our U-Haul truck and breaking my beloved orange lamp).

2004 (into our new house right after we got married)

2006 (flipped the coop and moved into Mt. Kisco, where Peter wanted to live, then didn't want to live one day after we moved....URRRGGGHHHH.)

2008 (into our 2 bedroom coop after we flipped the condo)

2009 (back to our house!!)

That's right, count'em 5 moves in 8 years!!!!!

Peter says that he GUARANTEES me that we're staying put for a while---but he said that last year. All I've learned in this process is that I HATE MOVING and that I HAVE TOO MUCH STUFF.

And I'm The Jerk?

So today, I caught this lady letting her dog take a wizz right outside my living room window--people in the building are not supposed to let their dogs pee in the courtyard, unfortunately, most of the owners of little dogs seem not to care. I've seen her do this a zillion times and today I was IN NO MOOD FOR IT.

I opened the door and said to her, "You know you're not supposed to let your dog do that. It's a $100 fine."

She turns around and tells me he doesn't pee--as she's saying this, he lifts his leg and pees and I point this out.

"Well," she said. "He's sick and blind. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Why don't you take him across the street?"

"He's BLIND!!!"

I was all, huh? What the hell difference does it make that he's blind? You carry him down the stairs from your apartment. You can walk him a few feet across the street to the park where we all go. And then to add insult to injury, she says:

"Well, I hope your dogs never get sick!"

Okay...what do my dogs have anything to do with your lazy ass being too lazy to walk across the street?

She acted like she was helpless to this whole situation when she's healthy enough to carry her dog and let him pee somewhere that is NOT OUR COURTYARD.

And yet, when I told Peter this story, he said, "Why were you acting like an asshole?"

"Wait a minute, she lets her dog pee right outside our apartment and I'M THE ASSHOLE?"

I do admit that I was in a bad mood, but she was CLEARLY in the wrong. And yes, everybody around here does it, so why am I bringing it up?

Because ONCE IN A WHILE I feel that people need to be CALLED OUT ON THEIR SHIT.

Y'know, because I'm a big'ole JERK.

She Looks Like My Mother

I sent my sister this link to an article about graduation rates and I titled it "Did You Know You Were In the NY Times?"

I found it when I was doing some research about graduation rates. The college Peter works for has a graduation rate of 60%--which is really bad. Peter's alma mater has an 80.5% graduation rate and mine is 87%. Although, I do have to point out that we had a lot of Orthodox Jewish girls who attended my school for the single purpose of finding a husband. Two girls who lived on my floor freshman year were married and had kids by the time I was a senior. So if it weren't for these teenage brides, I'm sure our graduation rate would have been higher.

I found this article and saw that the picture was taken at Amherst--then I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if Jenny were in the photo?" And then I saw that she was! It was pretty surreal. She's the girl who is staring at the camera in the right side of the photo.

After I sent her the photo, Peter told me to follow up with her so I gave her a call and said, "Did you get my email?"

"Yeah," she said. "I sent that to you months ago."

"Oh, so you knew you were in the photo?"

"Months ago."

"Don't you think you look like Mommy in that picture?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your picture in the article."

Apparently, when I said, "You Were in the NY Times," she took that to mean that HER SCHOOL was in the NY Times and not that she, Jenny, was actually photographed in the article. So she opens her web browser and FREAKS OUT because she looks EXACTLY LIKE MY MOTHER in that photo. In fact, I have a photograph of my mother at her high school graduation and she looks EXACTLY like that.

She looks so much like my mother in that photo that Peter said, "Was your mother wearing Jenny's graduation gown at the graduation?"

So Jenny sends this link to all her friends and in her subject note, she wrote, "Don't I Look Exactly Like My Mom in this Photo?"

Her friends wrote back:

You buried the lead! This isn't a PHOTO, it's a photo from the NY Times. Your subject note made it seem like you looked like your mother from a snapshot you took recently.

And her friend Tranny wrote back:

I emailed you this article MONTHS AGO! BECAUSE YOUR PICTURE WAS IN IT!

Yes, Jenny is just that ditzy that she read the article without noticing her own face staring back at her in the photo.

After I told Peter about that, he said, "Well, THAT'S why you have to follow up with people. Tranny should know better...I mean, it IS Jenny."

The Cat

The day before we took her to Peter's mother's house, I had taken away her bed and she had peed on her scratching pad, so she didn't have a place to sleep on. Apparently, she looked at the dog bed and said to herself, "Well, I guess I'm sleeping here now."



I still can't believe that she did that.

I haven't been to see her since we gave her away, but Peter went to visit his mom the other day and she's been sleeping with his mom on her bed!!

They're like best buds now, which makes me feel good. The Meow Meow really wasn't working out for us, but she's keeping Peter's mom company. In fact, she wasn't allowed in certain rooms of the house at first, but since she's so well-trained, his mom has let her have the run of the house.

And my mother-in-law even said that I did a great job raising her because she's been a great cat.

Isn't that awesome?

In 12 years, I've finally done something right in her eyes!

Don't We Count? We're HAPPY!

I'm gearing up for part 2 of the Surprise! party, but I wanted to write a little side-note. Apparently, Peter's sister said during the party that no one in their family is ever happy because they're not happy people.

"Wait," I said. "But you're happy. WE'RE happy! What does she mean by that?"

"I think she said that because she doesn't consider me a part of the family," Peter said.

"But after Jenny's graduation, my grandmother kept going on and on about how happy we are. (And then my mom said, 'Of course they're still happy! They don't have kids yet!' Yeah, that makes us want to have kids, right?)"

"It just goes to show you who's paying attention."

I Never Knew: The Surprise Party Story Part I

Before the Surprise! party, my sister said, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if the party went without a hitch and after all the anticipation of this stupid thing, you just wrote: It was fine. I mean, your followers would get SO MAD."

Yup, I can practically hear them clicking me off their blog rolls.

The night before, I was frantically trying to make these Martha Stewart tissue-paper flowers and it was SOOOO not working out.

They were supposed to look like this:



Instead, after two hours of accordion-folding and fluffing (Oh, the endless night of fluffing that didn't fluff the fluffstuff!) I only got these crappy pieces of tissue-paper GARBAGE.



I am a crafty person and I don't know what was going on--on the website, the pompoms looked like adorableness--maybe I'm just not crafty, but I AM!! All over her website, dozens of people said they made them and it made their bridal shower/birthday party/baby shower look absolutely GORGEOUS. I think that either their version of GORGEOUS differs greatly from mine--or I'm just a Martha craft failure.

I looked up at Peter after two hours and said, "I just don't think that this is an effective use of my time."

He looked at me and said, "I know. I wanted to say something to you earlier, but I didn't want to upset you."

In my mind, I had visions of how I wanted to decorate the space. I wanted to do such an AWESOME decorating job that people were going to have their minds BLOWN AWAY.

Unfortunately, I waited until the last minute and the tissue paper pom poms that were supposed to be just that thing turned into a pile of tissue-colored doo doo.

Instead, I wrapped up issues of the literary magazine I work for as an editor in gorgeous cardstock and folded a band of ribbon around them. They looked lovely. But Peter had his apprehensions about giving them out.

"They're philistines. They don't read literary magazines. They're just going to throw them in the garbage or leave them at the restaurant and you're going to get really mad."

I do know that about them and I did think about not giving them copies of the magazine, but then I figured the gift will be given from my heart and I can't control how they are received. I can only give what I have to give. I think Mother Teresa would have been proud, because you know how she's all giving out literary magazines to the philistines...and oh yeah, feeding the hungry and healing the sick.

The next morning, there was still a lot to do--my sister came over early to help. While she was here, Peter checked his email and found one from the Wicked Witch of the East--apparently, her daughter was sick and so they weren't coming. I was ECSTATIC to hear this news, although a bit surprised that the morning of the party, she's expecting us to be checking our email to get this information. Luckily, there was time to call the restaurant and get the tables rearranged.

The funniest thing was when Jenny texted her friend Emily to tell her that Wicked Witch of the East wasn't coming, Emily said, "What a BITCH! After WE'VE BEEN STRESSING all week about this, she didn't have the DECENCY to show up!"

I thought it was so cute and funny that people who have never even met Peter's sister are all, "What a BITCH!"

I wanted to get to the party an hour beforehand to set up and get things ready, but my sister and I are what we call "Vortexes of Time Suck." We inherited that from our mother. It's recessive and we both got the genes for it. For some reason, no matter how much time we are given to complete a task, the time is just sucked right out of the space-time continuum and it will take us an hour to do a simple task like pick up the cake from a bakery in the next town.

This is the reason why we will never become winners of Project Runway. Heidi will take a look at something we tried to make and say, "This looks like you threw it together in two minutes. AND it looks CHEAP."

So we get to the restaurant only about ten minutes before people are supposed to arrive and of course, people are already there. Fortunately, the restaurant threw up some cute balloons and decorations (Thank GOD) and so everything looked festive and cute already.

I forgot the candles and commissioned one of Peter's nephews to get them. I put out all the favors/place cards--I know it's a little strange since it's all family, but Peter DID NOT want to sit near his sister who hadn't been speaking to him the last seven years so I wanted to ensure that everyone knew where they belonged. We were SHOCKED that she emailed me to tell me she was coming and that night, she thanked me for inviting her twice.

I was all, "Uhm, I didn't actually invite you. I told your son that if he wanted to, he could invite you because I DIDN'T WANT TO BE RUDE and invite the entire family except for you and now we have regretted it since the minute you emailed us that you were coming. I mean, you didn't come to our wedding, you wrote in ALL CAPS on our response card WILL NOT BE ATTENDING. You didn't even send us a gift. I mean, I didn't send you an actual invitation. Can't you read between the lines?!?"

Okay, I didn't say that, I said, "Well, thanks for coming!"

To be continued....

Picky Eater

I don't like beans. Yes, it's strange, but I've hated beans since I was 1 years old--according to my mom, I would pick each individual bean out of my azuki and rice she would make for me. I also don't like Feta cheese. My version of hell would be to have to eat a large brick of Feta.

I dated a few Greek guys and the thought of introducing me to their mothers always stirred up a bit of fear because of the Feta-hating. And oh yeah, the grape-leaves-hating.

Today we went to Tomatillo again and fortunately, we did not get my most unfavorite waiter. My unfavorite waiter messes up my order 80 percent of the time. He's this skinny hipster-ish guy who is the only white guy who works the tables. And every time I ask for a tofu burrito WITH NO BEANS, he can't seem to keep it straight and there they are, the dreaded pinto beans in my freaking burrito.

Since my parents own a restaurant and I'm with a guy who hates it when I return food to the kitchen, I always sit there and eat the messed up food, not enjoying it one bit.

Last time we went to Tomatillo, I said to Peter pretty loudly, "Oh good, that AWFUL waiter isn't here today." I didn't see him when we walked in, but the people at the table next to us seemed startled and a few minutes later, the awful waiter sat down next to them for a little bit of chit-chat.

Peter said, "They totally knew that you were talking about their friend."

So? He's a crappy waiter. I'm sure if they are his friends, they know this by now.

Today, when I ordered my meal, I made it a point to say no beans and the waiter, who is Mexican, seemed really confused. My anti-beanness confuses a lot of Mexicans. And he asked me, "You want the rice, right? And do you want the lettuce? And do you want the tomatoes?"

Every time he asked me a question, I said, "Yes, I want everything EXCEPT the beans."

"So, you want the tortilla?"

And after I ordered, Peter looked at me and he looked like he had a revelation.

"Is THIS why you're hesitant to go to Mexican restaurants? Because of this bean thing?"

"YES!!" I said. "And it's really tough for me, because I LOVE Mexican food."

When I was little, everyone used to tell me that I would grow out of the bean hating business, but I never have. People always ask me what it is about beans I don't like and it's the texture of the beans when I'm chewing it and it gets all clumped up in my mouth.

"But mashed potatoes are like that and you LOVE mashed potatoes!" My mother would say.

Yeah, that's because it doesn't taste like anything but tons of butter and gravy.

You also can't travel through Asia not liking beans because Chinese people LOVE to serve mooncakes to their guests and I would always turn them down. And my uncles would get all indignant and mad and say, "They're DELICIOUS! You HAVE TO EAT ONE!"

And of course, I would say, "No, thank you." Which is apparently a REALLY RUDE thing to say to an elder. When an elder tells you to do something, you're supposed to do it, especially in Taiwan.

So I would put it on my plate and leave it untouched.

I am still known in some parts of Taiwan as: "The only girl I've ever met who hates mooncakes."

Open Letter to SNL

Can't you write some funny skits? I mean, you only do ONE show a week, AND you have a musical guest who comes on twice.

I mean, seriously.

SERIOUSLY.

Hey Lorne Michaels! Stop appearing in those stupid skits and whip those writers into shape!

My IM Chat With Andrew

andrew: how you doing? when's the surprise "party"?

Me: the 10th! Guess what? EVERYBODY is coming!

andrew: wow. the Wicked Witch of Long Island too?

Me: yes, wicked witch is coming with her wickedlings

andrew: u know what would be the BEST SURPRISE EVER?

Me: if we didn't show up and didn't tell them?

andrew: if you and Peter weren't HOME! "like this, like this!"

Me: actually, now that there's so many people, we're not all going to fit! my suggestion was to disinvite people-- we're going to have to go to a restaurant and spend endless amounts of money!

andrew: wow!

Me: well, that's fine--although I'm glad that everyone's coming since it's for her, I'm not looking forward to dealing with these people--what WHAT WHAT was I THINKING!!!!!

andrew: wow, so generous!

Me: Although my parents ARE SO PROUD OF ME and I feel a little guilty because they think I'm a better person than I am--I ONLY invited these people thinking they weren't going to come! Some of these people didn't even go to their own father's funeral!
Suffice it to say, the SURPRISE! Is on US!

andrew: haha
THE BIG FUNNY!
u said u have a sizeable backyard? why not rent a tent and hold a circus with these freaks?

Me: I'm a little stressed out that everyone is coming! JERKS! And Peter's nephew--the one who DID NOT GIVE US A GIFT for our wedding EVEN THOUGH HE WAS A GROOMSMAN and we bought HIM a groomsman gift is bringing his girlfriend--and I'm sure, showing up empty-handed.

andrew: to be mentally prepared for thsi u really have to be prepared for the WORST absolute WORST that can happen
just imagine everyone screaming and fighting, and crying and storming out

Me: Them BEING there is already the worst (peter said that)

andrew: and being majorly ungrateful - then u'll be ready for anything!

Me: I'm a little worried that they're going to order up a storm knowing that it's on our dime

andrew: you could set a prix fix menu
tater tots for all!

Me: I know, but the local restaurant here is being a bit unflexible about that...I'm looking around
Peter wants it to be nice--I was thinking PIZZA PARTY!

andrew: MMMM PIZZAAAAAA

Me: my parents think they raised a wonderful daughter and now I'm a bit ashamed of how annoyed I am that they are all coming--- Can you come? I NEED THE SUPPORT!! Plus, it may be the only time you'll get to meet them.
There are going to be more of his family members there than at our wedding...

andrew: is that an incentive?

Me: and definitely more than my bridal shower because...no one came to that.

andrew: I'll be in Boston that weekend

Me: my sister is going to be there--and my mom might also.

andrew: u want more support than Peter and Jenny?

Me: I need the ROCK OF GIBRALTAR-sized support

andrew:well, i'll think about it

Me: My friend Marisol was going to come, but she can't because she's taking stupid weekend classes at YALE

andrew: watch it rain and nobody show

Me: YES!! If only!!

How Did 12 Years Slip By Us?

Yesterday Peter and I were sitting on the sofa and I realized that our 12th year anniversary of the day we met passed by us...on September 5th. Yup, about a month ago.

I asked him if our wedding anniversary were not on Halloween if we would have both forgotten it already. He said no, but I don't know....

Anyway, it was 12 years and a month ago when I went to a venue with my friend Paul to go see his coworker play in a band. Paul said, to me, "That's the guy who knows Beck," and of course Odelay was my favorite album at the time, the album I was listening to on my long, and I mean looooong, train rides back and forth from Ann Arbor, Michigan. So to hear someone actually KNOWS this guy?

So I sat down next to Peter and said, "I like your glasses."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

There's Not Enough Charm

Today we got word that Peter's sister, the one I'm not particularly fond of, has emailed him that she is attending the Surprise! party. great. The one person that I'm totally DREADING. She's so awful, we need to create another word for awfulness that will fully describe the noxious unhappiness and vitriol that emanates from each of her pores.

And you think I'm kidding? I'm not. She's HATEFUL.

After I sent out the party invitations, I spoke to my friend Marisol about it and she thought that I was CRAZY to invite all these terrible people. She has a little bit of experience because she's got a few clunkers in her family tree.

"You should have just planned a party with a few of her friends here and NOT invited the siblings, that way, she can call them and said, 'Yes, Peter and plue threw a party for me! And it was great!' You do NOT need to invite these people and have to be around them and serve them meals! WHAT were you thinking?"

I need to talk to Marisol before I make ANY decision in life. Because she is SO RIGHT.

On one hand, I'm happy that everyone is coming because it's going to make Peter's mom s'happy. But I am also surprised that Peter's OTHER awful sister, who should know better than to come because SHE DID NOT BOTHER TO ATTEND OUR WEDDING and should never think to DARKEN OUR DOORSTEP is now coming. Yes, technically, she was invited, but we have had NO CONTACT with her except for that 4th of July wedding.

You know that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" when Billy Crystal screams, "I WAS JUST BEING POLITE!"

Every few days, whenever I think about the fact that Peter's sisters are coming, I channel my inner-Billy-Crystal-from-the-80s and say internally, "I WAS JUST BEING POLITE!"

Lesson?

NEVER BE POLITE

So now EVERYBODY is coming and I started to freak out a little bit, because everyone is united in their awfulness and phoniness. These are people who HATE each other, but they will totally yuck it up with each other and I'm a bit afraid that they're going to totally take over this event with their awfulness (and I know I'm being selfish, because this is for Peter's mother, but I'm afraid that they're going to gang up on me and be TOTALLY MEAN to me like they've done in the past).

I was talking to my sister Jenny about this Surprise! party yesterday and I said, "I just don't know how I'm going to handle all these unpleasant people at one time."

She said, "Don't worry, we'll be there and we're CHARMING."

And I said, "Although we have charm in EPIC PROPORTIONS, there's NOT ENOUGH CHARM for THIS!"

It Won't Work For You

Never in a million years did I think that Peter's siblings would accept their invitations for the surprise party for his mom. I mean, these are people who didn't even attend his father's funeral. But sure enough, I got emails in my email box that have proven me WRONG WRONG WRONG.

Like this emailed response:

Hi. Hope all is well. We will see you on the 4th.

That was the email--uhm....okay, but who is this email from? I did invite MORE THAN ONE PERSON--and because they're Catholic, more than one person has THE SAME FREAKING NAME.

I had to send this person an email saying, "Great, looking forward to seeing you...but who are you?"

I frantically called my friend Andrew, who throws dinner parties all the time and is famous in San Francisco for his soirees and I asked him for advice. Or rather I said, "Please, you've GOT to HELP ME! Give me ADVICE!!!!!"

His response was, "But it won't work for you."

"Why NOT?" I asked.

"Because the most important ingredient of a successful even is to invite the right people...and in your case. YOU'VE ALREADY SCREWED THAT ONE UP."

OH NO!!!!!

But the one thing I can take home from all this is that when I invited my mother to the party, she was SO PROUD of me and went on and on about how WONDERFUL this was and HOW HAPPY Peter's mother is going to be...I think that this served as further proof to my mom she raised her kids right.

Eye Contact

Whenever I walk the dogs, I take them out across the street to a little park that's so small it only has two benches and a tree. It is our building's doggy urinal and whenever I see unsuspecting families taking a small break and letting their children roll around in the grass, I cringe. I don't think there's even one square inch on that grass patch that hasn't held urine or poop at some point.

Anyway, there's a stop sign I cross the street in front of and it drives me CRAZY when cars slow down, see that I've stepped off the curb...and keep going.

Hello?

You have a STOP SIGN ASSHOLE!!

Then, what really riles me up is when the car slows down, I MAKE EYE CONTACT and the bastard keeps rolling by...hmmm

Usually, when I'm on the road and I make eye contact with the pedestrian, it tells the pedestrian, "Yes, I see you...go ahead. After all, you have this thing called RIGHT OF WAY."

I'm a safe driver and obey all the rules of the road, just don't throw babies in front of my car.

I think that Westchester people think that a stop sign is just a pretty red lawn ornament that people stick in the ground like colorful lollipops. They don't pertain AT ALL to any RULES OF THE ROAD. It doesn't actually mean STOP. It just means let's try to race that bitch who just stepped off the curb.

I have a mind to start wearing a sandwich board when I walk the dogs that says, "STOP SIGNS=STOP"...and as you drive by, on the back of my sandwich board, it will say: "YOU JERK"