thatnight.net

Wednesday morning, as I prepare to visit the Titanic Exhibition at a local museum:

“Carnegie Science Center.”

“Hi! I know you’re supposed to call a couple days in advance for reservations, but my sister and I were planning on arriving at 1, and I wanted to be sure there was room…”

“I’m sorry, we’re not showing today.”

“Oh, darn. All full?”

“No, we were flooded last night.”

“…heh.”

“…”

Awkward giggle.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m sorry, were you kidding, or…”

“No ma’am, we had a water main break in the building.”

“Oh. OH! Well, uh, thanks.” Click.

25 Comments

If there were any correlation between the blogs I read and my sexuality then for at least the first four years of my internet usage, I was absolutely a lesbian.

Lately, however, there seems to be a flourishing of male bloggers, hilarious male bloggers, and although they’re making a mess of my Google Reader and leaving dishes everywhere, I’m happy to see them.

I went through a handful of groups of friends in high school, but there were a few constants, two of them being Dan and Pat, and if I had to attribute my odd sense of humor to a certain time period it would revolve entirely around the time I spend with them, which almost always results in laughing so hard that I have to juggle between hiding my hideous facial contortions and holding my stomach so that I can breathe air.

The three of us went to the same college. I left after a year, but was able to see enough of their dorm to make eight semesters worth of snide remarks about the SpaghettiO-crusted Tupperware containers in the corner and that stupid rug. It was always bunched up. ALWAYS.

Now they’re finally fulfilling their internet obligations and blogging together at sureboutthat.com, which they explain like so:

A blog is what happens when two people (of the same gender) like each other very very much but are both heterosexual.

It’s still new, but they already have a few entries up, and if you’re bored at work and in need of some reading material, well…have at it.

21 Comments

I’m prone to crankiness. My friends know this. My sister knows this. My ex-boyfriends know this especially.

For the past few months, I’ve been particularly unsettled. My friends have been graduating college without me. They’ve been planning weddings and landing stable jobs and even some, GULP, having children. They’ve been moving into houses, which is probably the most significant mind-boggling notion that’s been picking incessantly at my left brain.

A moment ago, I was loading clothes into my washing machine, and I thought to myself, how lucky am I, that I get to complain about doing multiple loads of laundry for my own clothes. How lucky am I that I get to walk downstairs and throw them in, without having to pack a nylon bag and drag it three blocks away to a machine I’d have to stuff with quarters?

So I’ve experienced my fair share of Ramen. So I can’t go to a movie tonight because I don’t get paid until Monday.

Right now, I have a job that I love. Love. It will never make me rich, but I have not once dreaded getting out of bed to go.

I have enough gadgets, whether purchased myself or not, that I deserve to be broke for the next three years. Two years. (Get off my blog, karma.)

I have a relationship that’s gotten to the point where I’m not sitting in front of my TV, trying to distract myself with So You Think You Can Dance, because I’m obsessing over why didn’t he call, who is he with, and does he still feel the same way today?

I have a puppy that will give me his paw if I ask him nicely.

I have music. I can’t dance. Shhh.

I do not have a migraine.

I have you. Yes, I do. Hey. Get back here.

I suppose I could go stitch this all onto a pillow (I am grateful for the lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning…). And then I can find someone especially cocky and shove that pillow — oh hey! I can sew! List complete.

18 Comments

47 Comments

“yesterday i woke up early and babysat, drove to the mall, grabbed some jones soda, and then babysat again till 11. i definatly need to find a job. stupid college students took them all. hey that’ll be me next year! yay! i decided im staying close to home, and i would like to get an apartment, rather than dorm. but we’ll see.”

I wrote that on one of my older websites on June 14th, 2003. I would happily link it, but isn’t it the general routine for my generation to block out and delete proof of our early internet presence? Because we’re so much more intelligent now, and when I turn 27, I’ll be all, what? 22? What did I do then, go to college? How juvenile.

At the time, I would have just turned 17. And besides that one brilliant remark (”i decided im staying close to home,” which I should have done, but didn’t, though really, who “decides” things when they’re 17?) there’s not much I would ever worry about salvaging. I was living so fast and hard that I didn’t have time to capitalize my i’s.

Anyway, I’m in the middle of writing something sort of extensive, a large portion of which took place in 2003. I found that the best way for me to remember the little things I may have forgotten about — car rides, dances, lacrosse games — is to download the Top 50 Billboard chart (full list available in iTunes) for that year and cycle the playlist.

So I’m sitting here in my rat-free hotel room (who knew they’d have one in Philadelphia?), elated with landing this job, burnt from a sweltering, sunny day on the field, playing 50 Cent and The Ataris and Fabolous and Blink-182. As always, the songs easily send me back to the time I wrote things like “i was wearing my ‘lost’ shirt and thinking of how lost i am right now” and “i just watched all the surfer girls episodes” and “SATs suck,” and I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of a difference of five years.

22 Comments

I’ve been across the country but I’ve never been across the state, and as I write this, I’m on my way to Philadelphia for work-related things, and I’m pretty excited about it despite all of its inferiorities.

I’m just kidding, Philly. I can’t say anything bad about the birthplace of Will Smith and…cream cheese.

I left the puppy with Derrick, which wasn’t difficult at the time, but now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, it’s kind of getting to me. He knows I’m coming back, right? Will he forget about me tomorrow and move on? Little punk is probably chilling out by the pool already, unaware of my absence, all I don’t remember there being a girl in my life. Was she hot?

I swear, I could live in the most glorious, well-kept house and I would still find excitement in leaving. What makes hotel rooms so fantastic?

17 Comments

I’m not usually one to complain about commercials because by the time you’re done bitching the thing is off the air and forgotten and a newer, equally stupid one has already taken its place.

However, there seems to be a flourishing of online dating ads on TV anymore, and has anyone seen the new match.com promo? Where a happy couple sits on a bench or a concrete slab or whatever, and they make heartfelt promises to each other?

And in the one, the woman says very seriously, “I promise to never wear a flannel nightgown”?

Every time I see it, sitting up in bed in my baggy, worn pajama bottoms and over-sized lacrosse t-shirt, I squint my eyes, cock my head, and am all, “really?” Really?

Is there really a group of women out there, let alone hot-bodied ones you can meet online, who truly believe they will wear sexy lingerie to bed every night for the rest of their lives?

Because that says one of two things to me. Either a great deal of men looking for wives via the internet have been unable to tolerate flannel on past girlfriends and have exasperatingly turned to their computers to quench their last, dying hopes, or match.com is confident in the fact that any marriage they form will not last beyond the honeymoon.

35 Comments

Original post here.

My fourth year of college is over, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, for instance, I will never be able to completely wrap my head around all of the many literary theories, and also, I am relieved I’m not having a wedding this year.

It’s amazing how much can happen in six months, especially when you don’t realize it’s happening. But then you look back and say, wow, I was absolutely insane.

Though, let’s face it, you’re still equally insane.

Sometimes life hits you with something that’s kind of awful, just so you’re more aware of the things that were kind of great.

What is guacamole, anyway?

11 Comments

After Omnomnomnom’s question on my last post…

I’m so confused on the car door thing. So girls DO want the car door opened? I’ve done it and then gotten yelled at for acting like the girl was helpless. There needs to be a standard practice that girls follow for these things.

I was curious as to what the general opinion was, today, with the opening of car doors in a gentlemanly manner. I polled the girls on Twitter (thank you everyone for your responses), and while feelings were all over the place, many men also responded and reached a pretty general consensus: Always try.

With girls, however, it was more of a personal preference. A few: No, thanks.

Several felt that it was dependent upon the situation.

And many would very much appreciate the gesture.

One conclusion reached was that as long as a man is genuinely being polite, and not masking what he feels is an ineptitude of women, than a girl should not be offended.

On the other hand, if a guy is finding it hard to read a girl’s attitude on the matter, checking with her would be ok, even though men who were raised to be chivalrous would not think to ask.

So, no standard. Since opinions are somewhat down the middle on the girls’ end, it seems to all depend on the person and situation. But as the men pointed out, without knowing a girl’s opinion, they shouldn’t be chastised for trying.

23 Comments