The New Year is rapidly approaching, and with its arrival, millions of people around the world will make well-meaning but impossible-to-maintain New Year's resolutions. In past years, I've been one of those people, resolving to lose weight or get to the gym with some sort of frequency or lay off on the general life theme of poor decision-making. I've actually managed to keep some of these resolutions in a broad sense - not necessarily as a result of a commitment to turning over a new leaf, but more because things just sort of fortuitously happened to work out that way. Because resolutions, in a nutshell, do not work. Any time you're putting that much emphasis on a single day in the course of trying to make a few positive life changes, you're probably going to screw it up. Not to mention, from a purely technical standpoint, 2008 begins the second the ball drops - so are you really going to stop eating junk food and drink less and make only excellent, well-considered decisions as of 12:00am on January 1? Of course not. You're definitely going to have three more glasses of champagne and nibble on something delicious and fattening, and you are probably going to make out with someone inappropriate.
So here, I present to you a top 10 list of New Year's resolutions, which I found by Googling "top 10 New Year's resolutions." I cannot vouch for their provenance or authenticity, but I can tell you exactly why I'm not going to be adhering to each and every one of them. And I'm going to make some resolutions that I CAN keep.
1. Spend More Time With Family and Friends
This doesn't really make sense to me, because if you're not spending time with your family and friends, then who are you spending your time with? Coworkers? The television? I'm going to go out on a limb here and make the broad assumption that the vast majority of us either live with our family or with friends, or at the very least with someone who could reasonably be considered an acquaintance. We are not a species of hermits. I spend more than enough time with my family, believe you me, and my friends have no cause for complaint either. Or maybe they do. Because they're sick of me! In any case, I resolve to spend more quality time with me, myself, and a stack of fashion magazines, because if there's anything I feel like I could devote more time to, it's the pursuit of vanity combined with abject laziness.
2. Fit In Fitness
America is obese. I get it. I'm fully supportive of anyone else who wants to make this decision, because it's a good one. But I'm also skeptical because all too often I think people focus on fitness as something to be achieved in a gym setting only as opposed to something that is possible through simply being active. That's a recipe for failure. I, for one, made a resolution a very long time ago, when I quit rowing crew, and that was that I was never in my lifetime going to join a health club. Because through being a member of a NCAA Division I sports team for two years, I've obviously already reached and likely doubled my Lifetime Gym Quota. Occasionally I've been tempted to break this resolution - some gyms offer really cool group fitness classes, and I sure do love a good sauna - but so far I've managed to stick with it. Knock on wood.
3. Tame the Bulge
Again, the fat thing. Look, it sucks. I've been fat. I started out Baby Fat, then I got Moderately Fat in elementary school, then Potential Adult Obesity Danger Alert Fat in middle school, and after a brief flirtation with Eating Disordered in high school, I got I'm An Athlete And As Such I Will Eat Everything In Sight Fat, which curiously seems to afflict mostly female rowers. Post-crew, I was Bootylicious (for real, y'all, Beyonce-style), and since then, I've sort of been slowly but surely reaching my body's natural equilibrium point. The key is not, as is commonly believed, dieting. Dieting is trouble, because any time you designate something as off-limits, you will immediately crave it. The key is eating a balanced, healthy diet. Then, if you happen to drink nine beers and go on a Buffalo chicken rampage, you're probably going to be fine. Because no one ever gained five pounds from nine beers and a Buffalo chicken rampage. (Although someone did gain five pounds from two multi-course expense-account holiday lunches, a gallon or so of cranberry mojito, and gobs of raw cookie dough, among other things, and that someone is me, so...though I'm not resolving to lose five pounds officially, I'll be reining it in a little bit.)
4. Quit Smoking
I don't smoke. Generally. I do pretty much always have a pack of cigarettes and a glittery, Our Lady of Guadelupe-emblazoned box of matches in the top-secret zippered pocket of my purse, but that's just because I was a Girl Scout for all those years and I like to Be Prepared. Likewise, I always carry a Tide pen, a pack of gum, a miniature sewing kit, Liquid Bandage, facial blotting papers, Chap-Stick, hand lotion, Vicodin, and a flash drive. That way, I can be sure never to find myself in a sticky situation with a shiny forehead, dry lips, a missing button, and some important documents that need to be saved stat. Sometimes, a girl just needs a cigarette. As long as I'm not smoking like a chimney, I don't see the harm. In fact, I resolve to get myself a fancy cigarette holder a la Marlene Dietrich, so that when I do smoke, I can do it in style.
5. Enjoy Life More
This one is just plain stupid, because I don't understand why it would warrant resolution. Is there really anyone in the world who wakes up and says to themselves, "I think I will enjoy life as little as possible today?" I doubt it. Although, come to think of it, that would explain a lot about my mother.
6. Quit Drinking
Further to Resolution #5, this would be a one-way ticket to Enjoying Life Less. I actually did quit drinking for a period of time in 2007 because I was going through a phase in which I paid heed to warning labels on psychotropic medications (this was before I realized that I could get a Real-Life Rock Star Bonus in certain impromptu Guitar Hero tournaments for being drunk on prescription painkillers, not that I need a bonus because I've got FINESSE). I had also recently escaped from the fifteenth story of a burning building and was consequently sort of effed up over it and was staying with my parents for several weeks. It's safe to say I was not enjoying life a whole lot anyway, so it's difficult to gauge exactly how much of that, if any was attributable to the not drinking. But pretty much the only long term positive effect I noticed was that I lost like 15 pounds, which I still haven't managed to gain back. So, I suppose Resolution #6 is conditional relating to other resolutions. If you want to tame the bulge, quit drinking. If you want to enjoy life more, keep on keepin' on. I myself plan on continuing to drink exactly as much as I do currently, thereby maintaining my current weight and base level of life enjoyment.
7. Get Out of Debt
I have three words for this one: Fucking Student Loans. Oh, and three more: Internet Shopping Addiction. Sigh.
8. Learn Something New
Is that actually a New Year's resolution? People are resolving to learn SOMETHING new in an entire YEAR? I subscribe to the old elementary school rule: I don't go to bed unless I've learned something new every day. Seriously guys, it isn't hard. Just add the dictionary.com word of the day to your iGoogle, or read an effing newspaper. I mean, I could get behind Take Up A New Hobby, or Earn A New Qualification. But Learn Something New? In a year? God.
Also, that just made me think of Book-It. Do you guys remember Book-It? Can we revive it for grown-ups? I mean come on, a Personal Pan Pizza per five books read? Or, remember when Chuck E. Cheese would give out free tokens based on how good your grades were? Maybe we wouldn't have so many dumb adults if we just had some incentives. Or maybe we have so many dumb adults because we were all just working for the incentives to begin with. Hmm. How Pavlovian. But I digress.
9. Help Others
I guess this is noble. I don't really have a problem with it. I mean, it's sort of sad that helping others is something that requires resolve for most people, but what can you do? On that note, if any of you wonderful readers happen to be young professionals in the greater Boston area and are keen on making this particular resolution, my Amnesty International grouplet, aka the Boston Firefly Project, is always accepting new members. We deal primarily with economic, social, and cultural rights, and we are generally a fun bunch. Just sayin'.
10. Get Organized
I think that my problem with getting organized is rooted in the fact that it first requires getting disorganized. As in, if you're going to organize your closet, first you're going to have to dump all your clothing in a big pile on the floor, sort it in to piles, and make some big decisions about what to keep, what to alter, what to give away, and what to toss. It's a really great idea in theory, but more than likely you're just going to wind up clearing a path from the doorway to your bed amidst a sea of clothing. And, if by chance you do manage to get everything back in the closet in an orderly fashion, you will quickly find that to Get Organized is only the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg itself is Stay Organized. Which to me sounds like an exercise in futility. If you want to undertake this onus, be my guest. Meanwhile, I'll keep reading Real Simple and Martha Stewart every month with the very best of intentions but secretly hope that my apartment will be happened upon by a book-alphabetizing fairy and a Swiffering nymph and a dwarf who is handy with the Scrubbin' Bubbles and a host of other magical organizational fictitious woodland creatures. Or, you know, something.
I do, however, plan on making a few real-life resolutions. Nothing too major or too labor-intensive, but they are things that I am quite serious about. First, I resolve to stand up for myself regardless of the situation. Historically, I've been a pushover and allowed people to walk all over me. But in recent months, I've started to explore the studio space a little bit, and I think in the coming year I'd like to extend the not-being-a-doormat thing and potentially serve it up with a side of saying exactly what I actually think.
In the same vein, while my general outward disposition tends toward breathless enthusiasm and charm steeped in ADHD, wrapped in leopard print and tied with a glittery hot pink bow, the truth is that under all that sugar and spice, I'm really just a Mean Girl. So in 2008, I intend to embrace my inner asshole and wear her like a badge of honor. Okay, like a leopard print badge of honor with a glittery hot pink ribbon.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Let's try this again
I wonder how long you can leave the Drano doing its magic in the bathtub before it begins to eat through the pipes...?
Anyway, I had already written and posted a lengthy entry this morning, but the more I thought about it, I realized that it's completely uncharitable, not to mention sort of evil, to rant about how much my mother annoyed me during Christmas break when she just spent all that money buying me nice presents. Even if every other sentence was yelling. I mean, she never actually yelled at me. Just my father. And my brothers. And the cat, and the dog, and most likely a number of inanimate objects. But never at me. Because I am perfect angel who never does anything wrong. Or something.
Also, a good chunk of the same entry was devoted to detailing exactly how drunk I got on Christmas Eve, all of the myriad ways in which it wasn't my fault that I got that drunk, and all of the hilarious and embarassing things I said and did while being that drunk. Which, really, none of you care about. You've probably all seen me that drunk. One thing I will say for myself, though, is that while at first I thought that I could not possibly ever have been that drunk before in my life, a few incidents from freshman year and the Graduation Party Tequila Bar Scenario came to mind, and I decided that it was just the largest quantity of alcohol I've ever successfully held. Successfully in the "I didn't puke" sense, of course, not in the "I kept my wits about me and behaved completely rationally" sense. But you knew that.
All in all I did have a fairly nice break. I did a lot of laundry. I played Guitar Hero into the wee hours of the morning. I cooked a lot by request, as usual, since apparently all anyone ever eats when I'm not there is grilled cheese and tuna fish. I perfected my penne alla vodka, which was exciting - apparently using a mixture of sweet and hot sausage instead of all hot keeps it from becoming completely taste bud-obliterating. And I made some freakishly good buffalo and barbecue chicken pizzas for the game on Sunday.
Christmas would have been more enjoyable had I not been afflicted with the mother of all hangovers, but Santa was good to me. I got a Kitchen Aid stand mixer, which I've been wanting for years but couldn't figure out how to get without staging a fake wedding and registering at Macy's. I got a seriously badass coffee maker that has a timer so I can set it to greet me with the scent of freshly brewed coffee when I wake up in the morning, which also alleviates the difficulties associated with making coffee before one has ingested one's caffeine. I got a really nice quilted black leather carry-on size suitcase, which will enable me to make short business trips in style. Then there were a bunch of other, smaller things: an iHome, a couple of pairs of flat shoes (I'm kind of warming up to them, after all that bellyaching...not that I've given up on heels altogether), a new version of Cranium for me to continue my lifelong undefeated streak with, a few cookbooks, including Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook, which pairs nicely with the mixer and means I can stop plotting to abscond with my mother's, an assortment of jewelry, several small kitchen gadgets including a Martha Stewart Collection Salad Spinner and a handheld food processor, and some other things that I'm probably forgetting. It was really rather nice, particularly now that people have realized that I am all but guaranteed not to like any clothes that I did not pay a role in choosing. There were a few items on my list that I didn't get - and before you go being all appalled that I made a Christmas list like an 8-year old, I was forced to by my mother because I am apparently impossible to shop for, and it took me almost two full days because I couldn't think of anything I wanted - but I got some money too and will probably just go out and buy them. Because know that I know that a hot pink tool set exists and is widely sold at Target, I don't think I can live without it.
So I hope everyone else had as lovely a holiday as I did, and moreover, that everyone else's holiday wasn't overshadowed by the ghosts of Christmas Eve beverages. Unfortunately I had to work yesterday, so my parents drove me back to Somerville in the morning. It sort of sucked to not have the day after Christmas off, but since there was virtually nothing to do, I was able to devote my time to long overdue tasks such as filing ancient expense reports and cleaning out the marketing closet, which, thanks to the boxes and boxes of holiday cards and calendars strewn indiscriminately about, looked like it had possibly fallen victim to a very localized earthquake. Then, since literally no one I know was back in town to distract me from my productiveness, I was able to put away all my laundry and my Christmas gifts yesterday, and today am cleaning as much of the apartment as I can because, though it is generally tidy, it is not what I would call clean.
And now that we've come full circle, I'm somewhat plagued with concern about the bathtub/Drano situation - seriously, we are talking about a clog of epic proportions - and ought to go take care of that.
Happy holidays!
Anyway, I had already written and posted a lengthy entry this morning, but the more I thought about it, I realized that it's completely uncharitable, not to mention sort of evil, to rant about how much my mother annoyed me during Christmas break when she just spent all that money buying me nice presents. Even if every other sentence was yelling. I mean, she never actually yelled at me. Just my father. And my brothers. And the cat, and the dog, and most likely a number of inanimate objects. But never at me. Because I am perfect angel who never does anything wrong. Or something.
Also, a good chunk of the same entry was devoted to detailing exactly how drunk I got on Christmas Eve, all of the myriad ways in which it wasn't my fault that I got that drunk, and all of the hilarious and embarassing things I said and did while being that drunk. Which, really, none of you care about. You've probably all seen me that drunk. One thing I will say for myself, though, is that while at first I thought that I could not possibly ever have been that drunk before in my life, a few incidents from freshman year and the Graduation Party Tequila Bar Scenario came to mind, and I decided that it was just the largest quantity of alcohol I've ever successfully held. Successfully in the "I didn't puke" sense, of course, not in the "I kept my wits about me and behaved completely rationally" sense. But you knew that.
All in all I did have a fairly nice break. I did a lot of laundry. I played Guitar Hero into the wee hours of the morning. I cooked a lot by request, as usual, since apparently all anyone ever eats when I'm not there is grilled cheese and tuna fish. I perfected my penne alla vodka, which was exciting - apparently using a mixture of sweet and hot sausage instead of all hot keeps it from becoming completely taste bud-obliterating. And I made some freakishly good buffalo and barbecue chicken pizzas for the game on Sunday.
Christmas would have been more enjoyable had I not been afflicted with the mother of all hangovers, but Santa was good to me. I got a Kitchen Aid stand mixer, which I've been wanting for years but couldn't figure out how to get without staging a fake wedding and registering at Macy's. I got a seriously badass coffee maker that has a timer so I can set it to greet me with the scent of freshly brewed coffee when I wake up in the morning, which also alleviates the difficulties associated with making coffee before one has ingested one's caffeine. I got a really nice quilted black leather carry-on size suitcase, which will enable me to make short business trips in style. Then there were a bunch of other, smaller things: an iHome, a couple of pairs of flat shoes (I'm kind of warming up to them, after all that bellyaching...not that I've given up on heels altogether), a new version of Cranium for me to continue my lifelong undefeated streak with, a few cookbooks, including Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook, which pairs nicely with the mixer and means I can stop plotting to abscond with my mother's, an assortment of jewelry, several small kitchen gadgets including a Martha Stewart Collection Salad Spinner and a handheld food processor, and some other things that I'm probably forgetting. It was really rather nice, particularly now that people have realized that I am all but guaranteed not to like any clothes that I did not pay a role in choosing. There were a few items on my list that I didn't get - and before you go being all appalled that I made a Christmas list like an 8-year old, I was forced to by my mother because I am apparently impossible to shop for, and it took me almost two full days because I couldn't think of anything I wanted - but I got some money too and will probably just go out and buy them. Because know that I know that a hot pink tool set exists and is widely sold at Target, I don't think I can live without it.
So I hope everyone else had as lovely a holiday as I did, and moreover, that everyone else's holiday wasn't overshadowed by the ghosts of Christmas Eve beverages. Unfortunately I had to work yesterday, so my parents drove me back to Somerville in the morning. It sort of sucked to not have the day after Christmas off, but since there was virtually nothing to do, I was able to devote my time to long overdue tasks such as filing ancient expense reports and cleaning out the marketing closet, which, thanks to the boxes and boxes of holiday cards and calendars strewn indiscriminately about, looked like it had possibly fallen victim to a very localized earthquake. Then, since literally no one I know was back in town to distract me from my productiveness, I was able to put away all my laundry and my Christmas gifts yesterday, and today am cleaning as much of the apartment as I can because, though it is generally tidy, it is not what I would call clean.
And now that we've come full circle, I'm somewhat plagued with concern about the bathtub/Drano situation - seriously, we are talking about a clog of epic proportions - and ought to go take care of that.
Happy holidays!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
It's official: my idol and I are in a fight. Martha Stewart Omnimedia has decided to stop publishing Blueprint, a.k.a. my favorite magazine ever in the history of magazines, and I am hopping mad over it. Where else can I learn how to make an easy-sew taffeta ball skirt, update my vintage costume jewelry with velvet ribbon and some moxie, bake seven takes on sugar cookies, prevent pesky winter colds, choose a flattering shade of red lipstick, and set a formal table, all sandwiched between two pretty, glossy covers? Nowhere else. Hmmph. Okay, fine, there's always Real Simple. But Real Simple's fonts are not as sassy, nor is their layout as stylish or colorful, and besides, I'm forever annoyed at all those magazines that insist on being 10x13.5 inches instead of 8.5x11. They don't fit in my magazine basket properly! How am I supposed to maintain a sense of order in my life if the magazines that tell me how to maintain a sense of order cannot be stored in a sufficiently tidy manner? God! I may as well just start using the unoccupied half of my bed as auxiliary closet space and my bookcases as catch-alls for makeup, hair products, writing utensils, chocolate bars, spare buttons, and junk mail! Oh, wait...I already do both of those things, don't I? So really, without Blueprint, what hope is there for a slowly reforming slob like me?
Luckily, a couple of things are conspiring to improve my mood. One is the all Led Zeppelin all the time channel that XM Radio recently launched. Another is the fact that my company's print sales rep just sent me a 2 pound container of peppermint bark. Which, given that I am totally smitten with anything containing both peppermint and dark chocolate, I am dying to tear into at this very moment. However, due to the fact that my preemptive holiday diet was already sabotaged by my Christmas Crack binge this weekend, I am really trying not to cave. But it's nice to know that it's there, should I be overcome.
(Perhaps now would be a good time to clarify that Christmas Crack is not actually crack but a delightful party mix-type confection featuring an assortment of bite-sized snack foods covered in chocolate. In this case, pretzels, Chex, peanuts, and M&Ms. If it was actually crack, weight gain wouldn't be a problem. At least, I don't think it would, but everything I know about crack I learned from Half Nelson, so I'm no expert.)
Then, I just now found out that I'll be taking a business trip to Las Vegas in January to check out the venue for my company's upcoming sales conference. All by myself, like a grown-up businesswoman! It'll be just an overnight, but still. Vegas! With no chaperone! I have absolutely no interest in gambling aside from spending two hours playing the nickel slots with a single $20 bill to get a few free drinks, but there's so much else to do! I can see a show! And fulfill career woman fantasy #2 of being the mysterious brunette in a major dress, probably the red Diane von Furstenburg I'm wearing right this very moment (you know, in case I run into the cute Google boy on 13 who rescued me from certain death in the elevator yesterday, swoon), that simultaneously says 'I am a serious businesswoman' and 'Hello, sailor,' having dinner at the bar of a fancy restaurant on her expense account! (Second only to career woman fantasy #1 of stomping through a courthouse in a 3-piece Dolce & Gabbana suit and Louboutins while people chase after me shouting "Counselor Glowacki, Ryan Gosling is on the line - he'll be starring opposite Angelina Jolie in the major motion picture adaptation of your recent high profile case and he'd like to meet and potentially be on you." Okay, maybe not all that in the courthouse, but still.)
Finally, I rather enjoyed the following conversation:
Gilian: I have discovered something shocking
me: yes?
Gilian: go to marcjacobs.com and look at the spring 2008 women's shoe collection
me: yes?
Gilian: did you look?
he's gone crazy
me: how so?
oh, wait
Gilian: yes
there you go
me: i was looking at marc by marc
Gilian: oh no
I haven't looked at that yet
me: those lace boots are giving me a headache
marc by marc is cute
Gilian: and the heels!
and the mary janes that are filled in up to the top so you walk on top of the shoe
me: whoooooooooa
Gilian: he is on CRACK
me: it's so surreal
he's like the salvador dali of shoe design
Gilian: right. but for something to actually market to the public?
I love him
he is a genius at being a total weirdo
me: it sort of makes me love him more, actually
that and the smurf hair
Basically, Marc Jacobs is now designing shoes with heels that extend horizontally from the ball of the foot. Kind of like a wedge, but that looks like a sideways heel growing out of the front of the shoe. Amazing.
Luckily, a couple of things are conspiring to improve my mood. One is the all Led Zeppelin all the time channel that XM Radio recently launched. Another is the fact that my company's print sales rep just sent me a 2 pound container of peppermint bark. Which, given that I am totally smitten with anything containing both peppermint and dark chocolate, I am dying to tear into at this very moment. However, due to the fact that my preemptive holiday diet was already sabotaged by my Christmas Crack binge this weekend, I am really trying not to cave. But it's nice to know that it's there, should I be overcome.
(Perhaps now would be a good time to clarify that Christmas Crack is not actually crack but a delightful party mix-type confection featuring an assortment of bite-sized snack foods covered in chocolate. In this case, pretzels, Chex, peanuts, and M&Ms. If it was actually crack, weight gain wouldn't be a problem. At least, I don't think it would, but everything I know about crack I learned from Half Nelson, so I'm no expert.)
Then, I just now found out that I'll be taking a business trip to Las Vegas in January to check out the venue for my company's upcoming sales conference. All by myself, like a grown-up businesswoman! It'll be just an overnight, but still. Vegas! With no chaperone! I have absolutely no interest in gambling aside from spending two hours playing the nickel slots with a single $20 bill to get a few free drinks, but there's so much else to do! I can see a show! And fulfill career woman fantasy #2 of being the mysterious brunette in a major dress, probably the red Diane von Furstenburg I'm wearing right this very moment (you know, in case I run into the cute Google boy on 13 who rescued me from certain death in the elevator yesterday, swoon), that simultaneously says 'I am a serious businesswoman' and 'Hello, sailor,' having dinner at the bar of a fancy restaurant on her expense account! (Second only to career woman fantasy #1 of stomping through a courthouse in a 3-piece Dolce & Gabbana suit and Louboutins while people chase after me shouting "Counselor Glowacki, Ryan Gosling is on the line - he'll be starring opposite Angelina Jolie in the major motion picture adaptation of your recent high profile case and he'd like to meet and potentially be on you." Okay, maybe not all that in the courthouse, but still.)
Finally, I rather enjoyed the following conversation:
Gilian: I have discovered something shocking
me: yes?
Gilian: go to marcjacobs.com and look at the spring 2008 women's shoe collection
me: yes?
Gilian: did you look?
he's gone crazy
me: how so?
oh, wait
Gilian: yes
there you go
me: i was looking at marc by marc
Gilian: oh no
I haven't looked at that yet
me: those lace boots are giving me a headache
marc by marc is cute
Gilian: and the heels!
and the mary janes that are filled in up to the top so you walk on top of the shoe
me: whoooooooooa
Gilian: he is on CRACK
me: it's so surreal
he's like the salvador dali of shoe design
Gilian: right. but for something to actually market to the public?
I love him
he is a genius at being a total weirdo
me: it sort of makes me love him more, actually
that and the smurf hair
Basically, Marc Jacobs is now designing shoes with heels that extend horizontally from the ball of the foot. Kind of like a wedge, but that looks like a sideways heel growing out of the front of the shoe. Amazing.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
It's science.
I have an unusually good memory. I dare say it is close to photographic. If you ever watch Jeopardy with me, I can guarantee that you will become alarmed over how much I know about ornithology, or nomadic tribes in the Sahara, or historic sports figures, or potent potables. All because I did a report on owls in the seventh grade, or read an article on Tuaregs in a 1977 issue of National Geographic that I found in a trunk at my Grandma's when I was nine, or showed up to my History of Sport in America class in college with uncharacteristic frequency thanks to a large hot-baseball-player-classmate contingent, or drank a lot. You know how they say we only use 10% of our brains? I'm fairly certain that I disprove that theory, because at least 50% of my is occupied with useless and obscure factoids. Trust me: you want me on your trivia team. And you do NOT want to play Cranium against me.
I mention this not because I like to brag (in fact, I'm not always pleased with myself over it, especially when I accidentally freak people out by referencing comments they made in passing, possibly under their breath, eight months ago when I appeared to be engrossed in appraising the state of my manicure). It's just that once upon a time, a good decade or so ago, somebody told me that the Zodiac calendar is based on the position of the stars and planets thousands of years ago, and if we were to recalculate our signs based on their positions today, most of us would be a different sign. I don't, however, remember who told me this. I suspect it may have been my crazy modern dance teacher (sorry, Jenn) - it sort of stands to reason that the type of person who would take groups of impressionable children, outfit them in a mess of spandex and chiffon, and choreograph dances for them to perform on mountaintops might indeed be knowledgeable about the origins of astrology. But I don't know when she would have had occasion to tell me that, so iit just as well could have been someone else, or I could have dreamed it and thought it was real, which has been known to happen. In subsequent years, while engaged in conversations on the subject, I would occasionally enthusiastically bust out this tidbit, in keeping with my general tendency toward screeching enthusiasm, only to be met with indifference. Nobody cared! And my Google searches for scholarly texts that would back up my position proved fruitless.
Imagine my elation when, this afternoon, Jezebel directed me to this page : http://www.livescience.com/strangenews/your-astronomical-sign.html.
I am, at long last, vindicated. I would be thankful that I never went ahead and got that Leo tattoo that I briefly, incorrectly thought would make an attractive tramp stamp (does ANYTHING make an attractive tramp stamp?), but indeed I am one of the lucky few whose sign remains the same. Not that that's surprising. I mean, you all read my blog. Could I possibly be anything else besides a Leo? Not that I'm one of those people who checks my horoscope five times a day and won't date anyone whose birthday isn't compatible with mine according to both tarot.com and Cosmopolitan's Annual Totally Idiotic Pull-Out Forecast of Eternal Luv. (Have I mentioned that I hate Cosmo? I hate Cosmo. It caters to the lowest common denominator and assumes women are codependent flakes. Also, it's predicated upon "Sex Tips You've NEVER Heard Before and Could Not Imagine in Your Wildest Dreams!", "1006 Brand-New Ways to Drive Your Man WILD in Bed - Doughnut Not Included!", and "732 Ways to Seduce Him Away From Guitar Hero!" Um, guys? There is no such thing as a new sex tip. We're not talking about cancer research here. I don't think scientists are discovering new positions. The Kama Sutra is pretty comprehensive and that was around long before you were telling us to use our heirloom pearls and DOUGHNUTS - yes, doughnuts, use your imaginations if you must - in completely perverse and retarded ways. Also, I would never seduce a man away from Guitar Hero. More like the other way around.)
ANYWAY. Some people are pretty upset about this, because it shakes the foundation of their very persons. Which to me sounds a little dramatic, for a few reasons. One, I doubt that astrology.com is going to start changing up the dates for each sign and adding horoscopes for Ophiuchus, which is a cutting-edge new sign that falls between Scorpio and Sagittarius. Two, while it may be science - astronomy, that is - astrology is most certainly not. I mean, any given horoscope can be interpreted to mean whatever you want it to mean. Mine did not say "You will wear a skirt that is bordering on inappropriate despite being adorably flouncyand get an excellent haircut after work" when I opened up iGoogle this morning. No, it said "You may find yourself way ahead of others now, yet someone may attempt to slow you down and try to get you back into the pack. It really doesn't matter how high-minded your intentions are; gently apply your own brakes so no one else has to do it for you. Self-restraint can preemptively save the day." It could be telling me to restrain myself from wearing a skirt that could possibly result in frostbitten thighs (I did), it could be telling me to restrain myself from getting Victoria Beckham's asymmetrical nod to Simon LeBon as my new hairstyle (I didn't), it could be telling me to restrain myself from eating an entire pound bag of M&Ms for dinner (I didn't) or buying an awesome cashmere sweater from Theory at Poor Little Rich Girl (I did) or copy-editing all the brochures in the marketing closet for proper American English (a daily conundrum, to be sure, but thus far I have not). Totally devoid of concrete meaning, totally interpretive, totally fill-in-the-blank.
However...I'm still a Leo. Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah.
I mention this not because I like to brag (in fact, I'm not always pleased with myself over it, especially when I accidentally freak people out by referencing comments they made in passing, possibly under their breath, eight months ago when I appeared to be engrossed in appraising the state of my manicure). It's just that once upon a time, a good decade or so ago, somebody told me that the Zodiac calendar is based on the position of the stars and planets thousands of years ago, and if we were to recalculate our signs based on their positions today, most of us would be a different sign. I don't, however, remember who told me this. I suspect it may have been my crazy modern dance teacher (sorry, Jenn) - it sort of stands to reason that the type of person who would take groups of impressionable children, outfit them in a mess of spandex and chiffon, and choreograph dances for them to perform on mountaintops might indeed be knowledgeable about the origins of astrology. But I don't know when she would have had occasion to tell me that, so iit just as well could have been someone else, or I could have dreamed it and thought it was real, which has been known to happen. In subsequent years, while engaged in conversations on the subject, I would occasionally enthusiastically bust out this tidbit, in keeping with my general tendency toward screeching enthusiasm, only to be met with indifference. Nobody cared! And my Google searches for scholarly texts that would back up my position proved fruitless.
Imagine my elation when, this afternoon, Jezebel directed me to this page : http://www.livescience.com/strangenews/your-astronomical-sign.html.
I am, at long last, vindicated. I would be thankful that I never went ahead and got that Leo tattoo that I briefly, incorrectly thought would make an attractive tramp stamp (does ANYTHING make an attractive tramp stamp?), but indeed I am one of the lucky few whose sign remains the same. Not that that's surprising. I mean, you all read my blog. Could I possibly be anything else besides a Leo? Not that I'm one of those people who checks my horoscope five times a day and won't date anyone whose birthday isn't compatible with mine according to both tarot.com and Cosmopolitan's Annual Totally Idiotic Pull-Out Forecast of Eternal Luv. (Have I mentioned that I hate Cosmo? I hate Cosmo. It caters to the lowest common denominator and assumes women are codependent flakes. Also, it's predicated upon "Sex Tips You've NEVER Heard Before and Could Not Imagine in Your Wildest Dreams!", "1006 Brand-New Ways to Drive Your Man WILD in Bed - Doughnut Not Included!", and "732 Ways to Seduce Him Away From Guitar Hero!" Um, guys? There is no such thing as a new sex tip. We're not talking about cancer research here. I don't think scientists are discovering new positions. The Kama Sutra is pretty comprehensive and that was around long before you were telling us to use our heirloom pearls and DOUGHNUTS - yes, doughnuts, use your imaginations if you must - in completely perverse and retarded ways. Also, I would never seduce a man away from Guitar Hero. More like the other way around.)
ANYWAY. Some people are pretty upset about this, because it shakes the foundation of their very persons. Which to me sounds a little dramatic, for a few reasons. One, I doubt that astrology.com is going to start changing up the dates for each sign and adding horoscopes for Ophiuchus, which is a cutting-edge new sign that falls between Scorpio and Sagittarius. Two, while it may be science - astronomy, that is - astrology is most certainly not. I mean, any given horoscope can be interpreted to mean whatever you want it to mean. Mine did not say "You will wear a skirt that is bordering on inappropriate despite being adorably flouncyand get an excellent haircut after work" when I opened up iGoogle this morning. No, it said "You may find yourself way ahead of others now, yet someone may attempt to slow you down and try to get you back into the pack. It really doesn't matter how high-minded your intentions are; gently apply your own brakes so no one else has to do it for you. Self-restraint can preemptively save the day." It could be telling me to restrain myself from wearing a skirt that could possibly result in frostbitten thighs (I did), it could be telling me to restrain myself from getting Victoria Beckham's asymmetrical nod to Simon LeBon as my new hairstyle (I didn't), it could be telling me to restrain myself from eating an entire pound bag of M&Ms for dinner (I didn't) or buying an awesome cashmere sweater from Theory at Poor Little Rich Girl (I did) or copy-editing all the brochures in the marketing closet for proper American English (a daily conundrum, to be sure, but thus far I have not). Totally devoid of concrete meaning, totally interpretive, totally fill-in-the-blank.
However...I'm still a Leo. Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah.
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