After two years of carrying Big Blue, I finally broke down and got me the kick-assiest new phone. Which is pink! Which I can't decide if that's acceptable or not.
I also got my own Bluetooth headset, which again, not sure about the acceptability of. I do feel like sort of a jackass wearing it. But if it means I can make a salad while talking on the phone and not worrying about slicing through the hands-free cord with my mondo giant vegetable knife (yes, I know I'm supposed to use the paring knife, but it just seems so weenie), then I'm all for it.
Since no one ever actually calls me except for Ashley, Megan, Marita and Kelly, I haven't had much of a chance to actually use the phone yet. But this has not deterred me from filling it to bursting with sweet-ass new ringtones, because yes, I am, unabashedly, one of those assholes that has annoying ringtones. But my phone plays "The Impression That I Get" when calls are received from people without caller ID!
I can even assign ringtones to specific people-- Ashley, for instance, has been assigned "Hedwig's Theme" from Harry Potter (which replaces her ringer on my old phone, Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough").
So if you act now, and tell me what ringtone you want, I will totally download it and assign it to you, depending, of course, if I actually have your telephone number. However, you will then be obligated to call me, because otherwise I will never hear my sweet, sweet ringtones in action.
Oh, my God, I sound like such a douche.
But, on a side note, I can tell you that Ben got an even cooler phone than me-- one that he can watch TV on. But it's not pink. And it doesn't play "The Impression That I Get." So I still think mine is better.
Some of you may remember the shopping spree I went on earlier this year, in an update to delame my wardrobe? Well, on this shopping spree, it happens that I found the perfect pair of black pants, made of just the right fabric to repel dog and cat hair, and with just the right leg flare, so as not to look too librarianesque. And, they are a size six, which is most definitely not my size. But if I were to die in a horrible work-related incident, when they came to take my body away, they would find that I was wearing size six pants, and probably would have that figure engraved on my tombstone.
I don't know if you've heard, but Cleveland kicked all of your cities' collective asses at basketball (except you, San Antonio-- not yet, anyway), which makes Cleveland better than all your cities, using my false logic, even those cities that don't have basketball teams at all, and therefore can't even participate. 
Player haters/
and so on.
The weddings were of particular interest (although I'm sure there are some of you out there that would love to hear the particulars of my fight with Ben, which ended with me sobbing about how Sasha Pavlovic is purposefully trying to sabotage our chances at success), because they were the last two weddings I will ever attend as a single person, so I was trying really hard to inconspicuously take note of every single detail.
I did learn, at Ben's cousin's wedding, that Puerto Rican-style dancing is really fun to watch, but really, really difficult to do, especially when there's no alcohol involved. It also strengthened my resolve to not do the dollar dance, because surely no one would dance with me, and I would have to do the Carlton on the dance floor just to avoid looking unloved.
And at Marita's wedding, I learned that Marita does everything way cooler than me, and my wedding will look like a BBQ at the state park in comparison. And I learned that too much alcohol mixed with a lot of jumping up and down is not good for you.
All in all, an excellent weekend, especially since I got to meet Ben's family, who were totally awesome and really, really funny (and they laughed at my dumb jokes, which is a sure way to gain my trust). And of course much love to Marita and Chris, who (curiously enough) did the Carlton by dancing the wedding party dance to Sugarhill Gang's "Apache."
Congratulations, Kathy and Jose and Marita and Chris! Now, don't mind me as I shamelessly copy all your wedding secrets.
Undone:
Weird news: Two girls at work witnessed a chipmunk attack and behead a bird, which I thought very odd, as chipmunks are supposed to be vegetarian, forcing me to worry that the chipmunk has rabies, and might charge out at me at any time and gnaw on my ankle, turning me into a rabid monster a la Teacake in Their Eyes Were Watching God, and someone will have to shoot me.
3. The railings on the stairs leading to the front door of my office building have been removed, and these vaguely ominous silver speed bumps have been put up along the stairs, ostensibly to prevent skateboarders from using our parking lot for their illicit purposes. I'm actually torn on this, because it seems sort of fascist, but also, I believe all skateboarders secretly make fun of me whenever I walk by.
4. Jaslene won America's Next Top Model, despite the fact that she is a man.
5. The dog went and slept on my pillow after a long walk in the rain, and now my pillow reeks of wet dogness.
6. Every time I tried to get a book from the shelf at the library today, a weird old man in a Lake County Captains raincoat magically appeared and wanted the same book. Or else he wanted me to look at his ween. I was not willing to find out.
7. In general, all people, everywhere, are annoying (except for you, my faithful blog readers, who are cool and understanding of my Incredible Hulk-esque tranformation, and know in your hearts that I will become a functional member of society again within a few short days).
In conclusion, someone needs to invent something, other than wine, to which I am allergic, that can free me from this hormone driven beast! Please, do something! Before I start bitch-slapping nuns and kicking the invalid!
NOTE: LeBron James just got hurt, probably because I wrote something crappy about the Cavs. I am the worst person ever.
*My super-sleuthing skills, which led me to find Amy D., long-lost trombone hero (p.s.: Amy, I sent you an e-mail at your [probably very old] yahoo account-- write me back, or else.
*TiVo's sudden, intense desire to tape old episodes of the cartoon classic Home Movies, which is about the greatest show ever made.
*That commercial where Dwyane Wade tells Charles Barkley that his old short shorts make him look "sexxxy."
*The imminent arrival of the sample of my save the date cards, which is totally going to blow your mind with its sheer awesomeness.
*The smiling, non-thuggy pictures of my favorite Cavaliers (I have a problem with athletes who feel the need to look like they want to beat the shit out of me in their team photos):
*The fact that I had a column in the Dispatch last Wednesday-- it didn't run online, but e-mail me and I'll send you a scan of the article if you're in the market for funny shit involving the name Mojo and mounted police.
From this list, I can deduce that:
Am I right? Did I do it? I would be so freaking proud of myself if I solved this. I would probably go around boasting of my Columbo-esque powers of deduction. Which is way hot.
Anyway, mystery trombonist, whoever you are, I'm really excited to find out your identity. And don't worry, I could never consider you a foe-- any trombonist is a friend of mine.
Which is sort of depressing, really.
I would take the following items:
What is the best or weirdest reconnection you have made via the internet?
My childhood friend Wendy found me through the (now sadly defunct) journazine Convincing John-- we hadn't talked in like ten years, so it was fantastic to catch up with her and get back into each other's lives! I have to say, though, too, that I'm still really interested in whoever left the comment on my trombone post-- still no leads there...
What is your most hated word?
That's hard, so I'll break it down into categories. My least favorite swear word is the C-word (which I can't even usually bring myself to write out fully, but, paradoxically, which I yelled at a player on the Washington Wizards while he was trying to shoot a free throw last Wednesday). Least favorite business phrase: "Going forward," as in "Going forward, we will no longer be using the microwave for tasty popped-corn treats." And probably my least favorite overall word is "moist."
Tell me something funny that you've never blogged before.
I once knew a guy who told me he would turn gay if Ricky Martin asked him to.
Is there a part of wedding planning that you totally didn't expect or are particularly baffled by?
I'm just surprised by the sheer amount of things that need to be done. Favors for the wedding and the shower. Music for the ceremony and the reception. Readings that need to be selected! (By the way, anyone have any suggestions for non-Biblical love-related readings that we could do? Because if not, I'm going to have someone recite, with deadly seriousness, the words to "The Rose," by Bette Midler.) I simply cannot believe that all of these tiny decisions are going to add up to one big awesome kick-ass wedding. Chances are, I will freak out before I finish, and the whole wedding will be janky. To use an analogy, my wedding will be to normal weddings as The Tonight Show is to local cable access' "Chattin' With Chaz."
All right, having honed my interview answering skills, I am now ready to practice asking. So fire away!
See them there, right on the left edge of the picture? Our garbage is famous! Fortunately, the water was turned back on by the evening, so except for some occasional but very scary air bubbles that cause the water to shoot out in all directions at a very high power, everything is better. As for the street crater, it has been filled with dirt, which immediately became mud, as the entire road was flooded. Thus, I am a very muddy person. BUT! I can easily shower, so it's all good.
Up: Later that same evening, I got to go to the Cavs playoff game with my mom! Other than the fact that we were seated next to an extremely drunk woman, and a Dude Who Would Not Cheer, No Matter What, we had an awesome time.
As you can see from my hat, I am a Witness. Rise up!
Even better-- I won the chance to buy tickets to game C (for those of you not from Cleveland, I'll explain-- tickets to the Cavs are so in demand that you have to enter a lottery just to be allowed to BUY them), so I might be going again-- there's a chance I might have to miss it for Amy's birthday (GO AMY!), but if not, I will totally be there again, representing in my Witness hat and Lebron jersey.
I bet you never thought I'd be a jersey owner. But I showed you-- I showed you all!
Award with it, and not the Newberry, I was a bit bummed.)It will probably also be set around the turn of the century, like another of my favorites, The Callender Papers. This, I realize, might hamper my Doing It/unexpected teen pregnancy angle, but could really benefit the Men Fistfighting angle, as men seemed to do that a lot back then.
I hope you will forgive my lapse of blog activity, and I do hereby solemnly swear to be a better blogger. Keep in mind that I could have posted dinglebery pictures, but I didn't, because I have that kind of restraint.
1. My sudden realization that Hugh Jackman would be perfect as the lead role in the horrible novel I've been writing since I was thirteen. This is a position that has been held, over the course of the last fourteen years, by Mark Harmon, George Clooney, Colin Firth, and, most recently, that big Scottish guy from 300. Of course, it would have to be big Wolverine Hugh Jackman, and not skinny, sort of creepy The Boy From Oz Hugh Jackman.
