Halloweenie!

Halloween is, has been, and will always be, the equivalent of Christmas at my house.  Call us heathens… we love Halloween.

When I was a kid, my mom used to hand-make our costumes.  Once we became old enough to decide what we wanted to be, she would take us to the fabric store to look through the pattern books, choose the patterns and fabrics.  This usually started in early September.  I’ve been everything under the sun, from a rabbit, to Snow White, a clown, an Indian (Native American) several hippies, etc.

We decorate for Halloween similar to how normal folks decorate for Christmas.  We have lights, and all sorts of fun decorations for the house, like witches potion bottles, gargoyles, and skulls.  Maybe I’ll take some pictures tonight.

When I was at Illinois State, I joined Alpha Phi Omega, a co-ed national service fraternity.  Part of my service to the community was to volunteer at a local haunted house, which was MEGA fun.

And now… gratuitous recent (or not so recent) Halloween costumes!

1988ish.  

Jackie Kennedy - 2009

Marilyn Monroe - 2004

Volunteering at the Haunted House - 2004

Mimi & Roger from RENT - 2004

1993.  I was so PC.  ugh.

Audrey Hepburn - 2008

Flo, the Progessive Insurance Girl, 2011

frankenstorm

Frankenstorm.  It’s already done the worst, (I think?) and now, it’s heading toward Chicago as a whole lot of wind, and probably rain. 

All of the talk of Frankenstorm has me thinking about Snowmageddon 2011 (or SnOMG as some called it?)  The one (I think there’s only been one) blizzard I’ve lived through, so far.

We knew it was going to snow.  We knew it was going to snow a lot.  I went to work that day, and was annoyed to find that no one in top management came in.  They were all working from home.  I didn’t have the option to work from home (I still don’t.)  Instead, I knew the snow was coming, as did the others in our office, but we were still there.

A lot of places closed that day, similar to most of NYC being shut down in preparation of Sandy.  On the day the blizzard was set to hit, we were open.  Not a lot of other places were.  The office was quiet.  We all complained about how long our commutes home would be, that we were “stranded” with no management, how were we going to know if we could go home?  We spent a lot of time looking out the windows, waiting for the snow to start, and looking at the news, and weather.com, and talking to friends, to see where it had already begun to snow.

We were finally ‘released’ from the office at 3pm that day, after the snow had begun to fall heavily.  It took me two hours to get home, my normal commute 45 minutes.  I got home, and there wasn’t much to do.  I had dinner (I think?) with my family, and was invited to escape to a friend’s house for the evening, which I promptly declined, because, while it would’ve been much more fun and entertaining, the six mile drive would’ve taken hours, and could’ve been fatal.

So, I went to bed early.  I snuggled in with some hot chocolate.  I thanked the lord that I don’t normally pray to that we didn’t have a dog to walk.

The next morning, I woke up and had some serious work to do.  My dad had stayed the night, and we started shoveling/plowing around 10am.  It took several hours to clear everything away, but it was fun to watch our neighbors with snowmobiles zipping up and down the street.

Luckily, we didn’t lose power, heat, or running water through this whole ordeal.  I’m thinking of my friends on the East coast who haven’t been so lucky.

a word on relationships.

My dear friend Chrissy writes a blog, and her posts often inspire mine.  You can check her out here.  She’s fun, and quirky, and lovely.  Seriously, go check her shit out.

This week, she wrote about a past relationship.  I’ve had a lot of those.  I generally don’t like to bring them up too much into bloggy land, because, well, there’s a lot of word vomit there.  I think too much, and I remember too much, so then I analyze too much and then I talk (or write) too much.  I’m already doing it, and I haven’t even mentioned any past relationships yet.

Habitually, I also don’t blog about my current relationship.  I’ve found that blogging about the new guy in my life leads to a break-up soon after.  I’m serious.  I kept a livejournal in college, and every single time I wrote about a new guy, *poof* he was gone, within a matter of days or weeks.  I’m not running that risk.  No way.  Call it ju-ju… I’m not writing about everything wonderful that is my G.

 
Without trying to get too wordy… a few things I’ve learned from past relationships… my own personal list.  You can take this as you will… advice, good for a laugh, whatever.

• The smaller the penis, the less of an ability to keep it in his pants when he’s not around you.  (I don’t understand this one at all.  Why did all the girls want to sleep with the unattractive teeny weenie?)

• A man will do and say anything to sleep with you.  Once he does, the real test becomes, is he the same man he was before?

• If a guy insists on going Dutch on your second date, excuse yourself to the bathroom to powder your nose, and sneak out the window.  If he picked you up, call a friend, call a cab, I don’t care who.  If you agree, you will spend the next 4 months buying his beer and cigarettes for him.

• The older you get, the easier it is to figure out that he’s really just not that into you.  And that’s okay.  At some point, you’ll be able to stand up and say that to a guy.  I did, and it was the most liberating thing EVER.

• Have one girlfriend you can talk to about this stuff.  Just one.  Have an understanding with her, that you are each other’s people.  The other girls will get sick of hearing about it.  Trust me.

• If the guy you’re dating starts telling you about all of the drugs he ‘used to’ do, bolt, as fast as you can.  Drug problems always come with other problems, like money problems, alcohol problems, gambling problems, and baby-mama problems.

• Don’t think you can fix a guy.  I’m a fixer.  I always find the broken ones.  You can’t fix them.  They’re going to walk into your life fucked up, and then, they’re going to walk out of your life fucked up.  And that’ll make you a little fucked up.

• Don’t date or sleep with someone one of your friends has already dated or slept with.  Even if she tells you its okay, it’s not okay.

• Things not to do on a first date:  Swear or curse, drink yourself into oblivion, give it up.

• Know how to be one of the guys, but also one of the girls.  A guy will think it’s awesome that you love hockey and football and can hold your own at a game.  But, know when to slap on some makeup and hit the town with the ladies for the night.

I know I have so many more snippets… so, possibly, to be continued…

Feel free to add your snippets too.

Yia Yia

My Yia Yia (Greek for grandma, and no, I’m not Greek… long story…) turned 83 earlier this year.  For 83, she’s feisty and fun.  She don’t take no shit from nobody, and I’m not kidding.  This makes me really happy, because I hope to be just like her one day, for several reasons.

1.      She doesn’t look like she’s 83.  She doesn’t even look like she’s 73.  Legit story:  I showed a picture of her to my academic advisor, who responded by saying “oh, we must be about the same age, I’ll be 68.”  Yeah, I’m not kidding.

2.      She’s spirited.  She doesn’t care what people think of her, and says what she wants.  One of my favorite Yia quotes: “If someone doesn’t like you, piss on them.”

3.      She’s independent.  Well, right now, her cardiologist told her not to drive as she is getting used to new BP medication, and it’s KILLING HER.  She doesn’t like depending on other people, and neither do I.

4.      She’s stylish.  The lady used to work at Neiman Marcus, okay?  She’s been carrying the same Bottega handbag for longer than I’ve been alive, and has Neiman Marcus sweaters older than I am too.

5.      She refuses to be anything but stylish.  When she first moved into her apartment, she had me over to show me where everything was.  The important things, like her will and other important documents.  Then, she says, “come here, there’s something else important.”  She opens the bottom drawer of her dresser.  “This is where I keep my cashmere robe and silk pajamas.  If I ever have to go to the hospital, you have to bring them for me.”  Seriously.

6.      She just says funny shit.  She’s spunky.  Some of my favorite Yia-isms:

“There is nothing better than a good roll in the hay.”

“Don’t put all of your emotional eggs into one bastard.”

She calls her Italian Greyhound, Romeo, “Putzkalie” which is Yiddish for “little penis.”

She brought bottled water from Neiman’s to my college graduation.

reminisce-r extraordinaire

Part of my blog title explains that I am a reminisce-r extraordinaire.  What does this mean?  I think it is a glorified way of saying, I like to talk about shit that's already happened to me.  Relive.  Rethink. What-if?

I've mostly moved past thinking back to high school, probably because a good chunk of my close knit group is people I went to high school with.  Some of them, I was friends with back then, others, maybe not as close.  But high school is our common bond, so we don't really have to re-do it.  Right?

My 10 year high school reunion is coming up next month.  I still have to buy tickets.  Yeah, yeah, I'm going to go.  G's is the same weekend, so we're going to make a whole downtown weekend out of it.

I always told myself I wouldn't go unless I had a big accomplishment.  If I was skinnier (which I'm working on), if I got my college degree (which I just finished), if I was engaged or married (no dice there.)

There are a lot of people I'm looking forward to seeing at my high school reunion, some that I don't care either way, and some, that if I ever saw again, I'd need to be restrained.  Luckily, I'm a little bit older and wiser than my 18 year old self, and plan to go into my high school reunion with poise and grace, looking fabulous, and above all else, being the better person.  I'm going to be f*cking Emily Post.