Eight Things About Me, As Told By My Weekend July 23, 2007
Posted by charmingbutsingle in Daydreams, Family, General Clumsiness and Related Stupidity, I finally answered a tag!, Listing is fun and easy, Weekend Updates.trackback
I was tagged by Doctor Scientist (and probably some other people) a few days back. Her meme was “8 things about me,” but we all know that I’m a meme changer, so we’re doing “8 things about me as explained by my weekend activities.”
- I’m clumsy. To start the weekend off right, I fell flat on my face at Happy Hour. Ok, it wasn’t flat on my face – I actually fell up a set of stairs walking into Happy Hour. I missed a step and my heel got stuck and then there I was, on the ground while people gasped and jumped up to help me. I jumped up, brushed off my knees and straightened my skirt. Then I joined my group and had a margarita.
- I overreact. When I tried to leave Happy Hour, I could barely walk. My toes were completely swollen and I couldn’t move three of them. In my heels I wobbled to the car and headed home, where I iced my toes and convinced myself that I’d broken all of the bones in my foot and it would either have to be chopped off or set in a cast for many weeks. I even contemplated which cast color would clash the least with my outfits.
- I’m a sucker for kids. On Saturday, I went to my parents for laundry and sympathy. My foot was still swollen, but I agreed to go to the park and McDonald’s with my mom and my young cousins. Because when I hobbled up to my mom and my youngest cousin, who is about 18 months old, she said, “It’s [Charming]!” and he got this big grin on his face and exclaimed, “[Chhhhhaaaarming]!” And he NEVER says my name. He just calls all women “Momma” or “Naaaanny.” (As an aside, “Momma” also means, “Give me that!” or “Pick me up!” or “I want something!”) How could I not go to the park with him after he SAID MY NAME.
- No, really, kids get me every time. My ovaries jumped as I carefully loaded my cousin into a swing and sent him flying. And his eyes opened wide and his mouth agape, as if to say, “I am so excited that I cannot make a sound! Do you see me, flying here? Would you be able to talk if you were flying?” And I know that children aren’t all cute faces and adorable squealing, but those bright eyes and tiny fingers cloud my judgment.
- My Mom not-so-secretly wants me to have a baby. She sat in a swing with my cousin on her lap and said, “We used to come out to this park all of the time.” And then she sighed, “If I had a grandchild, I’d be out here all of the time.” And I said, “Who is financing this grandchild of yours?”
- Neither of us is ready for me to have a child. As we sat with the three boys in McDonald’s, we realized how unaccustomed we are to children. One cousin dropped his hamburger on the floor trying to show us that it was “plain” and it should have been “regular.” My littlest cousin only wanted to eat and drink things other than the chicken nuggets I’d torn apart for him. And when I wouldn’t let him have my Diet Coke, he took his apple juice box and squeezed it, sending a stream of juice into the air. When we finally left there were piles of McNuggets and puddles of juice on the floor. And I looked at Mom and said, “Still want a grandchild?” And she said, “No, I’m good for now.”
- I secretly believe I am a pop culture aficionado. Saturday, after my park and McDonald’s outing, I iced my still swollen foot and watched several hours of “The World Series of Pop Culture” on VH1 and convinced myself that I should put together a team and sweep the tournament next year. But the questions would have to be, like, “Catch phrases from ‘How I Met Your Mother’” and “American Idol Facts.” So, I’ve got the last five years covered. I just need teammates who know the rest.
- I wish my life were a musical. I saw “Hairspray” on Saturday night and it confirmed that the dream I’ve had since middle school of starring in “Me: The Musical” is still alive and well. I used to choreograph dances and motions to the soundtracks of “Grease” and “Cats” and “A Chorus Line” when I was growing up. Since seeing “Hairspray” the other night, I’ve been internally serenading my life. “Goooood mooorning [Town Where I Live], every day’s like a traffic jam! Every night is sit com rerun. Every sound’s like iTunes on repeat.”
No, really, I overreact. When I woke up on Sunday my foot was completely fine. It isn’t even bruised. So I guess I didn’t need to look up which orthopedists accept my health insurance. To celebrate I had a large sugar-free skim milk vanilla iced latte. (Or two.)
What did your weekend say about you?
Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)
When I woke up Saturday morning, I was fully confident that I could (1) walk from one end of the Golden Gate Bridge and back with a friend, (2) have lunch with that friend (3) come home to take a shower and change, (4) pick up a dozen falafels from another part of town, (5) go to another friend’s art exhibit cocktail, and (6) join a group of strangers from a Yahoo social group to watch the free outdoor screening of Sixteen Candles in a park.
Somewhere in the middle of the bridge, I came to realize my agenda was simply too ambitious. There simply aren’t enough hours in the day for all that. So I had to skip shower, a change of clothe, and falafels. I went straight to the cocktail covered in sweat from the bridge walk, met the Yahoo group without the falafels I’d promised them, and shivered in my thin cotton shirt in the breezy park throughout the movie.
Hence, my weekend epiphany: I’m no superman.
“What did your weekend say about you?”
1. That I am a sucker for kids too. One bright smile from my little niece and she has me wrapped around her finger. And she knows…
2. That I still cannot say “no” to a good bottle of Pouilly-Fumé. And that my brother knows this…
3. That the Harry Potter hype really is not for me. (I went to a Harry Potter movie with friends, the first time I’ve had anything to do with Harry P. And I don’t understand it, the whole phenomena.)
I am a boring person. My idea of a great is playing my guitar, spending time with my son, and in the end hardly leaving my home.
Hey, good to know you want your own musical. Me? I want my own sitcom. I literally walk around all day making up funny (I think) lines between made up characters, one of them who’s obviously me. People think I’m deep in thought on the streets, when it’s all about “And then there was Me” (yep, have the title too)
Kids are cool, as long as they’re other people’s kids
The danger of having one’s life turned into a musical is that one runs the risk of facing a group of knife-wielding punks, snapping their fingers in time as they prepare to skewer you. Sure, they can dance, but they’re still punks with knives. And, of course, it all ends in tears.
My weekend confirmed that the competitive fires still burn brightly, even at my horribly advanced age (34 *gasp*), and that I can still hand both young and old their asses when necessary in a certain sport (golf, not Greco-Roman wrestling).
My weekend clearly says - “There is a part of you that truly belongs in New York City.”
Now the trick is figuring out how big of a part that is…
My weekend confirms I’m Poor…. I paid bills!
Hey, I watched the entire VH1 Pop Culture World Series and and let me tell you I was right up there with the Twisted Misters… I sucked at the SNL questions though… If you make a blogger team I’m there!
that i really really do love going to the beach - after spending the weekend there.
that i still cannot wrap my head around planning a wedding - after seeing one derailed by rain. in florida. in july. go figure.
that everyone seems to think they can be on the world series of pop culture! as we had the exact same conversation at my house.
1. Hmm…my weekend proved that I can’t tell one baseball team from another, even when I’m practically sitting on the field. I cheered for the Braves AND the Cardinals all night long (much to the dismay of my Braves fan friends).
2. Plus, I learned that bad beer (aka any Budweiser product) causes me to eat things like cracker jacks and giant hotdogs covered in — oh God..what *was* that crap anyway? I think it had the consistency of glue and smelled like it was scraped off the bottom of a horses hoof. (uh-oh!)
3. And of course, I’m always a sucker for falling *UP* the stairs, as my exit from the stadium proved. Lucky for me there was a very large man in front of me that didn’t mind when my head slammed into his ass.
My weekend told me that men make me disorganized. I quit dating three weeks ago and this weekend, I completed a “To Do” list, had a garage sale, and realized that I love my life just how it is right now. I feel like since I gave up men, I really have my act together.
I’ve always secretly thought my life should be a musical too- complete with cool pastel matchy outfits for all my friends who will be doing the backup in my big numbers. Perhaps if I gave as much thought to my CURRENT life as to the musical dream life I want, I would be much happier. Or at least much more productive!
That socializing is exhausting…
So what did my weekend say about me? Hmm, good question.
I nearly killed myself racinng my motorcycle down one way street at night.
So that may say I have a death wish…or that I’m just plain crazy? No matter what it says about me, I say I had fun doing it!
That even after staining a door, going to a concert, having friends over for drinks, going on a birthday pub crawl, getting a massage and pedicure, making a cool necklace and matching (but not in a too matchy-matchy way) earrings, and taking the dog on multiple walks, I still feel like I wasted part of my weekend, only because I fit in a much needed nap, and didn’t get more things done. I think I need to slow down.
Geez, I’ve got several musical themes that play over & over for me. One is “Elevator to the Scaffold”. Another is ‘The Stanley Steamer’. Many are simply 19th c. Russian orchestral pieces. Dark, boiling, turbulent. If it were not for the bluegrass it be a might dreary some days. Cheers, ‘VJ’
My ovaries have been jumping too… especially Saturday when we took my nephew and niece to the LA zoo!
All my weekend does is yawn…
My ovaries jumped as I blah blah blah…
Say that to a gay man and he will shriek, press a napkin to his mouth and rush to the bathroom. A straight man will smile and swiftly cancel whatever naughtiness he might have been planning.
Just saying.
Thinking about it more I can add some more to the ‘themes’: Herbie Nichols would be there with T. Monk. Charlie Mingus would be there, playing with Max & the Duke too. Ditto for Raymond Scott, who after all, is about the only reference I’ve made that most people will have likely heard recently. In cartoons.
My weekend included a bout with food poisoning in Chattanooga, and finding the Happiest Sculpture in the World. It’s here by Tom Otterness:
[http://www.marlboroughgallery.com/artists/otterness/01.html]. Called ‘Free Money’, it depicts a fat happy couple dancing on a large bulging sack of copious cash. What’s to argue with that?
My amagdyla secretly smiled then. My conscience asked ‘why is it easier to get fat than it is to get rich?’ My intuition answered that being fat was being rich. For most of the rest of the world, and indeed for most of our history on the planet. The next mystery is ‘how rich is rich?’ Then the philosopher answered ‘well that depends…needs…wants…balance..etc.’ The everyman queried then ‘So why is it that you have less plans for all this than your neighbors?’ Lack of imagination was the reply. And reasonably limited wants. Mr. Micawber was proven a prophet once again. Cheers, ‘VJ’
Lack of imagination? Certainly you don’t mean yourself, VJ. My inner monologues are hardly very philosophical and never in different voices.
I love kids. I just don’t want any.
Okay, love might be stretching it. I love being around them for short periods of time. They can be fun.
What did my weekend say about moi….?
…That I have an amazingly high tolerance for ignorant people (read my blog post dated 7.25 to understand what I mean).
I love your blog and look forward to reading more!
My imagination seems only limited to spending money. It’s a very old habit. More music playing in my mind: ‘Boggie stop shuffle’ by Mingus, ‘Nightmare’ by Artie Shaw, classic Johnny Cash, Bach Organ works, Russian film music, Pete Seegars, Woody Guthrie, Pine Top Perkins, very old folk songs from all over. I could not begin to even think about loading up an Ipod with all this ’stuff’. But it’s about the only think that might approach containing an adequate sample of it all. If only they can be made more robust so they would not fall apart after a few months. Cheers, ‘VJ’
that at 26, i am too old to drink like i did in college.
Dude, I totally hear you on the musical thing. If only all of life’s problems could be solved with a well-choreographed song and dance.
But then you’d have to deal with gang members with knives dancing at you. Pretty scary.
In essence, that I’m a lovesick alcoholic who loves sleeping….
I too have always harbored the fantasy about being in a musical. I saw Hairspray twice, something I rarely do with any movie. But there was something about it. The innocence and the fun was just overwhelming! I bought the soundtrack and after a week of listening to it every morning in the shower I felt the only way to truly get my fill was to see it again…..totally worth it.
I discovered that NYC cab drivers can be some of the greatest people in the world! (Post 8/2/07)
glad your foot’s ok!
and yes, tiny fingers also cloud my judgement. i’m all about having babies, until i think about labor. or the state of the world. that’s what makes me pause. but only for a second. then i’m back to wanting 5 kids. now.
you crack me up w/the musical thing. i always just wished i could sing.
oh, and i would SO be there for the trivia competition! let me know!