In 8th grade Nathan R. won $200 off of me winning the schoolwide spelling bee. I received the biggest trophy in the history of my family. Go geeks!
How appropriate that 15 years later, I am sitting alone in my apartment on a Friday night at 9:30pm, drinking wine and eating fish, approaching 30, and watching the 2008Scripps National Spelling Bee on tv! I just need a cat and I'll cement my solitude for the rest of my life!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Apocalypse Now: On Turning 30 (in a year and 2 months)
One of the things I learned is you actually have to write more than once a year if you want people to read your blog, and it doesn't even need to be that long! So I am going to write something concise, well, concise for me, which is a novella to anyone else.
Shall we begin?
I am turning 30 in one year, 2 months, and 10 days. I am freaking out about this to no end. I have one more Christmas to celebrate in my 20s. One more Super Bowl to watch in my 20s. And not even a good year of being in your 20s. I wish it could go 26, 28, 29, 27, and then 30. But nope, for my final St. Patrick's Day in my third decade, I'll be 29. Eek.
I was talking to one of my engaged male friends who happens to be 26. His fiancee is my age and she's freaking out too about turning 30. Now, this girl has a ring on her finger and she's a doctor. She probably has sex on a regular basis and gets to take cabs everywhere. And she's freaking out???
I felt so much better! See, even people who seemingly have their shat together are losing it too!
That's all for now!
Shall we begin?
I am turning 30 in one year, 2 months, and 10 days. I am freaking out about this to no end. I have one more Christmas to celebrate in my 20s. One more Super Bowl to watch in my 20s. And not even a good year of being in your 20s. I wish it could go 26, 28, 29, 27, and then 30. But nope, for my final St. Patrick's Day in my third decade, I'll be 29. Eek.
I was talking to one of my engaged male friends who happens to be 26. His fiancee is my age and she's freaking out too about turning 30. Now, this girl has a ring on her finger and she's a doctor. She probably has sex on a regular basis and gets to take cabs everywhere. And she's freaking out???
I felt so much better! See, even people who seemingly have their shat together are losing it too!
That's all for now!
Monday, May 26, 2008
Conspiracy Theory: The Sequel
Remember that movie Conspiracy Theory that came out in 1997? A pre-Sugar Tits Mel Gibson played a New York City taxi driver with loose screws who conveniently befriended government employee Julia Roberts. That's all I remember about the flick--well, also that Julia had an annoyingly straight, blown out bob that frustrated me as a curly-haired red-head. But anyway the point is that Big Apple cab drivers=frequently crazy. That is all you need to know.
Tonight I came back from Boston via the Fung Wah. The Russian bus driver flew and we arrived in Chinatown, New York in less than 4 hours. At one point the driver started smoking cigarettes, and a passenger threatened to call the cops, and I was going to sock that passenger. Who cares about second-hand smoke? I got to get home quick because I forgot to set the DVR to record Andromeda Strain on A & E!
Luckily, no cop was called, the Fung Wah parked, and I got out of the bus.
Because I was eager to get home to my television, I decided to live it up and take a cab home. I am usually very cheap and don't do this. But, I had all my stuff and was dying to watch Living Lohan and Denise Richards: It's Complicated. When you have a job as I do, there are limited hours to watch your programs, even if you do have a DVR and no roommates.
I flagged a cab and get one of the mini-van taxis. A moment of excitement flit through my body: Could this be the Cash Cab?
To my disappointment, it was not Ben Bailey--he's the super hot host of the Discovery Channel gem--but instead some other white dude. THIS particular guy had straggly blonde hair and reminded me of Travis in the movie Clueless, except all grown up and still not banging Tai.
Travis asks me destination and I tell him.
Then he starts asking me more questions: Where are you coming from? Boston. What do people do in Boston for fun besides go to pubs? Well, in Cambridge they protest. Are you Irish? Irish and German. What's your sign--Pisces? No, Leo.
Now, you all know me. I'm not exactly Little Miss Bo Peep. I have a tendency to open my mouth and allow words to exit at a very frequent pace. But this guy started getting a little too personal. So this excited me because then I thought, they're bringing back Taxi Cab Confessions!
I got my pen ready to sign the release when Travis inquired:
What do you know about Kabbalah?
Man, that's a weird question to ask on Taxi Cab Confessions. Normally they would ask me when was the last time I paid/was paid for sex!
I told Travis not much, except pre-Madonna I took a class on Magic, Religion and Science my sophomore year in college and there was one lecture on it.
What about Zorostrianism?
At this point I realized I was NOT on Taxi Cab Confessions. Before I had a chance to respond, Travis butt in:
Because I've been reading up, and there are all the connections between the religions, and also the back of a dollar bill.
Really? I am now asking the questions. Tables have turned my friend.
Travis is illuminated. Oh yeah, for sure, he says. There are things on dollar bills, and then if you go look at the ceiling at Grand Central, you'll see all this symbology, and I've been studying it to see how much of the history of the world it explains.
Oh Jesus, I think. I've got one of the crazys.
Travis will not be stopped: And then if you go to the Masonic Temple, and study the freemasons, it kind of makes sense.
I'm quiet at this point. I just want to get home and watch "Miss Rap Supreme."
Travis babbles on, and all I can think is: This man knows where I live. My mom nags me to take cabs more to be safe, but she didn't foresee Mel Gibson Junior to attack me on the benefits of studying the DaVinci Code.
We arrive to my destination. I pay Travis and get the hell out. He drives away. I enter my home.
I'm kind of freaked out and need to cleanse my palate of spooky conspiracies. Thank God I set my DVR to record all episodes of Golden Girls!
I'm off to Miami kids.
Au revoir,
Liz
Tonight I came back from Boston via the Fung Wah. The Russian bus driver flew and we arrived in Chinatown, New York in less than 4 hours. At one point the driver started smoking cigarettes, and a passenger threatened to call the cops, and I was going to sock that passenger. Who cares about second-hand smoke? I got to get home quick because I forgot to set the DVR to record Andromeda Strain on A & E!
Luckily, no cop was called, the Fung Wah parked, and I got out of the bus.
Because I was eager to get home to my television, I decided to live it up and take a cab home. I am usually very cheap and don't do this. But, I had all my stuff and was dying to watch Living Lohan and Denise Richards: It's Complicated. When you have a job as I do, there are limited hours to watch your programs, even if you do have a DVR and no roommates.
I flagged a cab and get one of the mini-van taxis. A moment of excitement flit through my body: Could this be the Cash Cab?
To my disappointment, it was not Ben Bailey--he's the super hot host of the Discovery Channel gem--but instead some other white dude. THIS particular guy had straggly blonde hair and reminded me of Travis in the movie Clueless, except all grown up and still not banging Tai.
Travis asks me destination and I tell him.
Then he starts asking me more questions: Where are you coming from? Boston. What do people do in Boston for fun besides go to pubs? Well, in Cambridge they protest. Are you Irish? Irish and German. What's your sign--Pisces? No, Leo.
Now, you all know me. I'm not exactly Little Miss Bo Peep. I have a tendency to open my mouth and allow words to exit at a very frequent pace. But this guy started getting a little too personal. So this excited me because then I thought, they're bringing back Taxi Cab Confessions!
I got my pen ready to sign the release when Travis inquired:
What do you know about Kabbalah?
Man, that's a weird question to ask on Taxi Cab Confessions. Normally they would ask me when was the last time I paid/was paid for sex!
I told Travis not much, except pre-Madonna I took a class on Magic, Religion and Science my sophomore year in college and there was one lecture on it.
What about Zorostrianism?
At this point I realized I was NOT on Taxi Cab Confessions. Before I had a chance to respond, Travis butt in:
Because I've been reading up, and there are all the connections between the religions, and also the back of a dollar bill.
Really? I am now asking the questions. Tables have turned my friend.
Travis is illuminated. Oh yeah, for sure, he says. There are things on dollar bills, and then if you go look at the ceiling at Grand Central, you'll see all this symbology, and I've been studying it to see how much of the history of the world it explains.
Oh Jesus, I think. I've got one of the crazys.
Travis will not be stopped: And then if you go to the Masonic Temple, and study the freemasons, it kind of makes sense.
I'm quiet at this point. I just want to get home and watch "Miss Rap Supreme."
Travis babbles on, and all I can think is: This man knows where I live. My mom nags me to take cabs more to be safe, but she didn't foresee Mel Gibson Junior to attack me on the benefits of studying the DaVinci Code.
We arrive to my destination. I pay Travis and get the hell out. He drives away. I enter my home.
I'm kind of freaked out and need to cleanse my palate of spooky conspiracies. Thank God I set my DVR to record all episodes of Golden Girls!
I'm off to Miami kids.
Au revoir,
Liz
Monday, February 19, 2007
Happy F---ing Valentine's Day!
Let's play the Pyramid people!
Can you Feel the Love Tonight. Love is All Around Us. I Can't Help Falling in Love.
Hell, I'll even put in the song Closer (just the line "I want to f--- you like an animal", really).
What do these all have in common?
Songs that make Liz super f---ing depressed on Valentine's Day!!!
Now, I am not a bitter New York City woman. I mean how could I be when I have such a sultry picture as seen on Myspace? Would you believe it if I told you I was on the math team in high school? That I listen to the song "Oh Holy Night" year round? That this past Saturday night I stayed home alone with a bottle of wine and watched President Ford's funeral on the DVR (Why did he have to die?)?
Yes people, as hard as it is to believe, I have my moments of geekdom. Well, more than moments, more like years. And I celebrate my nerdiness. I'm okay with this. After all, this nerdiness won me the spelling bee in 8th grade and as a result I am the proud owner of the biggest trophy out of all two of my siblings.
But being single on Valentine's Day? Goddamn f---ing sucks.
Most of the time it's more fun to be single. You can flirt with cute boys. You can do whatever you want on weekends with whomever you want. No one asks you "When's he going to pop the question?" and/or remark "Oh he got you that cubic zirconium pendant at Zales . . . he must really, um, love you by giving you that cheap piece of sh--."
But on Valentine's Day, being single means you can sit at home eating a Lean Cuisine wearing your new pajama pants with hearts on them that your mom sent you while getting caught up on the 8 hours of television that you've DVRed Sunday through Tuesday. The Apprentice, I Love New York, White Rapper Show, American Idol, and Bad Girls Club. Okay that's only 4 and a half hours. 5 and a half if you count Wednesday's episode of Idol. Sorry for exaggerating.
On Valentine's Day, being single means that you can look forward to all the candy going on sale for 50% off the day after at CVS. And then eating all that candy, thus making you fat, thus sealing your single for life fate.
The cruel, cruel cycle!
So all single people, your friend Liz wishes you a Happy F---ing Valentine's Day. And I mean literally. Why the f--- not?
The rest of you couples, just smell your roses and be done with it! And remember what happened to the most famous lovers of all time, Romeo and Juliet. They died!
Cackle, cackle.
Love always,
Liz!
Can you Feel the Love Tonight. Love is All Around Us. I Can't Help Falling in Love.
Hell, I'll even put in the song Closer (just the line "I want to f--- you like an animal", really).
What do these all have in common?
Songs that make Liz super f---ing depressed on Valentine's Day!!!
Now, I am not a bitter New York City woman. I mean how could I be when I have such a sultry picture as seen on Myspace? Would you believe it if I told you I was on the math team in high school? That I listen to the song "Oh Holy Night" year round? That this past Saturday night I stayed home alone with a bottle of wine and watched President Ford's funeral on the DVR (Why did he have to die?)?
Yes people, as hard as it is to believe, I have my moments of geekdom. Well, more than moments, more like years. And I celebrate my nerdiness. I'm okay with this. After all, this nerdiness won me the spelling bee in 8th grade and as a result I am the proud owner of the biggest trophy out of all two of my siblings.
But being single on Valentine's Day? Goddamn f---ing sucks.
Most of the time it's more fun to be single. You can flirt with cute boys. You can do whatever you want on weekends with whomever you want. No one asks you "When's he going to pop the question?" and/or remark "Oh he got you that cubic zirconium pendant at Zales . . . he must really, um, love you by giving you that cheap piece of sh--."
But on Valentine's Day, being single means you can sit at home eating a Lean Cuisine wearing your new pajama pants with hearts on them that your mom sent you while getting caught up on the 8 hours of television that you've DVRed Sunday through Tuesday. The Apprentice, I Love New York, White Rapper Show, American Idol, and Bad Girls Club. Okay that's only 4 and a half hours. 5 and a half if you count Wednesday's episode of Idol. Sorry for exaggerating.
On Valentine's Day, being single means that you can look forward to all the candy going on sale for 50% off the day after at CVS. And then eating all that candy, thus making you fat, thus sealing your single for life fate.
The cruel, cruel cycle!
So all single people, your friend Liz wishes you a Happy F---ing Valentine's Day. And I mean literally. Why the f--- not?
The rest of you couples, just smell your roses and be done with it! And remember what happened to the most famous lovers of all time, Romeo and Juliet. They died!
Cackle, cackle.
Love always,
Liz!
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