Apropos of nothing.

This boring tee shirt rocked my world.

1. My haircut is amazing. I called Rob walking home from the salon and lamented about dropping a good piece of change on a haircut, only to come out looking like a poodle. Once I styled it my way, though, it rocked my world.

Wahoo for my hair.

2. My necklace is also amazing. It is my new favorite thing.  (I was shooting my self-pic into a mirror – I know what way the globe goes!)

3. I went to buy new tee shirts, nothing unusual, and could not figure out what the heck was wrong with them. They fit before, and now they were… baggy and lumpy and odd. It turns out nothing is wrong with the tee shirts, and nothing is wrong with me. I’m just a size smaller.  Do you know how rad it is to buy smaller sized shirts?!

Holy cow.

Oh, it’s one of those periods where I can’t get the blogging mojo up off the ground. Here are some bits.

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I got a new camera. It was time for an upgrade to something professional, so I got the industry standard for commercial photographers, as well as a few good lenses. It was hours of research to figure out exactly the set up I wanted, and the results have me blissed out and really excited. With the right gear in my bag, the only thing standing between me and making a decent living as a photographer is myself. Knowing this is a tremendous relief, and also a great big burden: now the only thing standing between me and making a decent living as a photographer is myself!

Ah well. Bring it on.

**

I wonder often if have something wrong with me, like Aspergers. My brother-in-law made ridiculous statement the other day, and I was all wide-eyed going “REALLY?!” while everyone else laughed at his joke. When I was about 14 I kept a list called, “Words and Phrases people use when they are being sarcastic”, and I really needed it. I don’t now, but only because I have it memorized. It’s just not something I instinctively pick up on. I also don’t do “nice for nice sake”. I say things that are honest, and then realize that they aren’t spectacularly kind, and I always want to be thought of as spectacularly kind.

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Poor Matty’s ear infection is better. It was 10 days of squirting in a wash that made him dizzy, and then some medicine, and then at night more medicine and a pill. Now it’s just pills, which is easy since he likes anything if you glob peanut butter on it.

Clearing it up by keeping on top of his treatment was very satisfying, and I am proud.

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I skipped blogging about Weight Watchers last week, because I was tired of thinking about it. It is exhausting to think of every single thing you put in your mouth as a matter of course. My leader said something so wonderful last week, that deserves writing down: 98% of plateaus and gains are a result of loosened efforts and are, therefore, controllable. Usually that control looks like stepping up the workouts or cutting back further on calorie intake as your body adjusts to your previous efforts. That sucks! It’s like, work hard, then work harder. But it’s the way it is.

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Bronwen is an internet-turned-real-life friend from Australia and HER friend was visiting New York. She asked if we would meet her for dinner, so Naomi came out to Brooklyn and we ate. Then we drank, and then we had drinks in our living room until 2 am. I explained how Fahrenheit degrees work, and we both agreed it was stupid and confusing and that Celsius is superior.

We all liked each other, and Naomi promises that I can crash on her couch if I ever want to trek over to the other side of the world.

This is why I love the internet.

This morning I had this heavy metal song stuck in my head:

“Poundin’ down the walls!
Pound-in’ down-the
Poundin’ down the walls
WITH THE SLIME KINGS!”

The true beauty of it is in the singing, and if you ever get a drink or two in me, I promise to sing it for you, and with gusto.

I did not know from whence this song came, and it bothered me for a few hours until I Googled it. The Slime Kings are a fake rock band made up by Ann M. Martin, writer of the Babysitters Club books. In the book, “Claudia and the Phantom Phone Call”, the babysitters rig their stereo up to start playing loudly if an intruder broke into the house. They set the tape (awww, mid-80′s technology!) to the song “Pounding Down the Walls” by The Slime Kings.

The lyrics were never spelled out in the book, but that didn’t stop 9 year old me from trying to come up with my own version of the song. Now, years later, it was stuck in my head, a monstrosity of my own creation.

I wonder if Rob will lend his talents to recording it?

“Happy Father’s Day.”

“Thank you for making me a daddy!”

“Well, it’s nothing to do with me, it was you who ejacula… you’re welcome.”

Let’s talk Lost.

Rob and I both loved last night’s finale, although it took me a while to digest. I think that mostly I liked that they figured out a way to get everyone in the same room together again. The flash-sideways got a bit much for me to keep track of, though; I don’t like metaphysics in my entertainment because I think too literally. But over all I really loved it. Vincent KILLED me.

There were things that bummed me out, too, that I really wanted explanations for (like the Hurley Bird!)

So what did you think? Did you love it? Think it was lame? Do you want to punch Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse in the face or give them a hug? How SHOULD it have ended?

“You don’t do anything to celebrate your anniversary?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t go out to dinner or something?”

“Well, we go out to dinner often anyway. We live in New York.”

“You don’t exchange cards? Flowers*?”

“No, I don’t need to give or receive a piece of thick, expensive paper, folded and printed with a picture and someone else’s sentimental words to convey or feel love, especially based solely on the fact that the earth has revolved 365 days around the sun and it is the same date now, according to the Gregorian calendar, as it was the day we had a wedding.”

“You are strange!”

“I know, Grandma.”

I would like to state for the record that I share my grandmother’s assessment, and find myself highly annoying to boot. And yet, I remain unfilled with gushing sentiment about the fact that today is our anniversary, try as I might to feel something… anything… that is socially expected. (All of this changes, of course, should Rob suggest we celebrate with a trip to Disney World. Then I am all over that.)

*I managed to spare her the part of my speech where I go into the bit about the flower being a symbolic [and actually, a literal] vagina.

I’ll be out of town for a few days attending a funeral for the little daughter of old friends.

My gosh. What DOES one say?

This week has been fun with with the Weight Watchers point tracking!

I have quite a few questions about the system that I plan on bringing to my leader on Tuesday. For instance, what, exactly, are these “activity points”? What happens I barf mid-day? Does sex count as “activity” towards points, and what should I put it under? Horseback riding? (Sorry.)

I have no idea how many points a deep fried cupcake would be, but I have a feeling I’m not going to like the answer. There’s a deep fried cupcake event tonight at Union Hall via Robecellies who did the last one, which is where I fell in love with the deep fried tres leches. (Coincidentally, Robecellies is this week’s Hey Brooklyn.) I might wander over just to smell them.

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My sing-a-long is TOMORROW and I’m so excited! Rob and I have a set list picked out and we’re bringing lyrics sheets. Please please please come! Go here for details.

“You guys!” said Jen, “stop making fun of my typical Saturday night!”

Me, Jen and Carissa were in Starbucks in Trumbull (Connecticut) getting coffee in anticipation of a late-night baking session (for Jen) – slash – driving the hour-twenty back home to Brooklyn (for me). Before that we went to Target where I got socks.

While waiting on tall, skinny hazelnut lattes, I “raised the roof” and laughed at our “adventurous” evening (which ultimately ended in watching this movie and also included baby-snuggling), and Jen got mock-indignant.

But seriously, you guys? My Saturday night rocked. I love my friends.