"Blame It On Me" ~Parachute (This song puts happiness in my step every time.)
I realize my last blog post about nostalgia contained absolutely no reference to food or candy at all. And there's good reason for that: food and candy, etc. deserve their very own blog post. Especially those that are since dearly departed.
Candy and soda is pretty much what childhood is. As Jerry Seinfeld so lovingly put it (in one of my favorite stand up routines ever): "Candy was my whole life when I was a kid. That was...first ten years of my life, I think the only clear thought I had was 'GET CANDY!' That was it. Family, friends, school, they were just obstacles in they way of the candy. I'm out for the candy here. I'm just thinking 'Get candy! Get candy!' That's why you have to teach kids not to take candy from a stranger if they're playing in the playground, because they're such candy idiot moron brains... They're just 'This man has candy, I'm going with him. Goodbye. Whatever happens to me. Get candy, get candy...' 'Don't go! They'll torture you, they'll kidnap you.' 'It doesn't matter, he has an O Henry. I have to take that chance. Get candy, get candy...'"
And so the list begins...
I'm going to start with what I believe to be the most amazing, incredible phenomenon of our time: CRYSTAL PEPSI! In 1992, Crystal Pepsi became the focus of children all over the US and the lament of all of the mothers of said children. I specifically remember watching the "Right Now" Van Halen commercial for Crystal Pepsi, thinking I would DIE if I didn't get some of the mystical, magical clear cola soon. Of course, I spent the next year of my life (Crystal Pepsi was discontinued the following year, in 1993) trying to convince my mother that it was absolutely necessary to have Crystal Pepsi---to absolutely no avail. If I remember correctly (and I swear, this has to be almost verbatim), her answer was, "I am not paying MORE for a Pepsi with LESS ingredients. Unnecessary. No." And that was that. Thankfully, I found friends whose mother's weren't quite as strict within the walls of Shop Rite, and I eventually got to have some of the holy grail. Unfortunately, it tasted like crap. I never told my mom that she was right...until now.
Next up, another holy grail of beverages: ECTO-COOLER! In 1987, Hi-C decided to tempt kids everywhere and promote The Real Ghostbusters cartoon via juice drink. And since kids will go for ANYTHING that's oddly colored, Hi-C made their new juice green, slapped the cartoon Slimer character on the front, and called it Ecto-Cooler. Unlike Crystal Pepsi, Ecto-Cooler was widly successful, especially at my Brownie and Daisy meetings. (I'm pretty sure everyone in my group's mother can attest to this fact. We demanded Ecto-Cooler. It was the glue that held our little troupe together...until we all realized that no one actually wanted to be a full-fledged Girl Scout, and we disbanded to join cheerleading.) I was convinced they had simply stopped making Ecto-Cooler altogether; however, Wikipedia has informed me that the sneaky bastards at Hi-C didn't discontinue the flavor until 2007, renaming it twice (first Shoutin' Orange Tangergreen, then Crazy Citrus Cooler) along the way. It seems I have missed out on a MINIMUM of ten years of Ecto-Cooler-drinkin-goodness...ten years I'll, sadly, never get back.
Taking a break from purely sugar drinks, I move on to mourn the loss of one of my favorite childhood candies: CANDY CIGARETTES! Now, I don't completely blame the candy industry for my long-time smoking habit, but I'm sure it didn't help. Maybe if I could still find these delicious little packs of chalky bubble gum, I wouldn't be addicted to nicotine--just sugar. Candy cigarettes used to be sold by the ice cream man. Hearing his crazy little truck playing a strung-out version of "O Suzanna" could only mean one thing: candy cigarettes that made us all all look and feel as cool as our parents! I have a distinct memory of being on the playground after school with a friend, Stefanie, Stefanie's mom, Stefanie's mom's friend, and her children. At the time, everyones mom smoked (my own included), and these particular moms bought us all packs of candy cigarettes, which we promptly ripped open and blew into...to make the chalk puff out...it looked like smoke...come on! Whatever. I loved it. After all the chalk was gone, we took the paper off the gum, gobbled it up until it lost it's flavor 3 seconds later, then moved on to the next candy cigarette. Brilliant. Controversial? Yes. A staple in my childhood? Absolutely. Moving on...
Next up, to add to the proof that oddly-colored things, regardless of what they actually are, will sell to kids: EX SQUIRT KETCHUP! This super-rad colored ketchup actually came out in 2000, and even though I was already 15, this was still fantastic. French fries simply taste better dipped in blue or green ketchup. (Really? No, but it was awesome anyway.) This was one product that, by joining forces, my brother and I convinced our mother that we absolutely HAD to have. Success! (That, or she just couldn't put up with our crap anymore and bought us the ketchup so we'd shut up and let her do her food shopping in peace.) One thing I learned from EZ Squirt ketchup: it stains. Badly. This is most likely why it was finally discontinued in 2006. A big seller to kids, but a major problem for white shirts and carpeting everywhere.
I can't believe I've gotten this far in the post without mentioning breakfast cereal. Kids are to breakfast cereal as flies are to shit. They flock. (Take that, SATs. I get how those comparison things work, see?) And what was the BEST kid cereal we had growing up, you ask? Why, it's SPRINKLE SPANGLES! Sprinkle Spangles (for those of you who don't remember) was the cereal that "spangled every angle with sprinkles." And it was magic. (See picture: http://www.x-entertainment.com/cerealprizeproject/group014/2.jpg ) General Mills came out with Sprinkle Spangles in the early 90s with their genius mascot, The Sprinkle Genie, who was none other than Dom DeLuise! The cereal was basically puffed sugar, coated with colorful sugar, and glazed with sugar. It was delicious as all hell, despite tasting eerily similar to Cookie Crisp (minus the "chocolate" chips) and made every morning a good, sugar-rushed one.
And, on the topic of sugar (not that we left), I'd like to come back to sugar drinks. And this particular sugar drink was, by far, an all-time favorite in my household: SQUEEZITS! First off, you can't go wrong when you put kid-friendly sugar drinks in cool Coke bottle-shaped plastic. But General Mills upped the ante and gave each flavor it's own "face" (which was part of the plastic bottle) and gave each flavor its own name. The names, if you can't remember (I couldn't either) were: Chucklin' Cherry, Berry B. Wild, Grumpy Grape (later changed to Gallopin' Grape), Silly Billy Strawberry, Rockin' Red Puncher, Mean Green Puncher, Smarty Arty Orange, and Troppi Tropical Punch. Then, of course, like any good kiddy product, there was a "mystery flavor" in a black bottle--o0o0o0o0o--which, sadly, was later presumed to be kiwi strawberry. Boring. But, Squeezit took it yet another step further later creating "color pellets" (which I distinctly remember we were NOT allowed to have in school after awhile--school ruins everything fun) which you could drop into your drink and change the color of the juice inside. FUN! INNOVATIVE! ROOFIE-DROPPING TACTICAL TRAINING! All in all, a major success. Congrats, General Mills. Win.
I know there are hundreds of awesome nostalgic food/drink items I've left out. Please share your favorites in a comment! Face it, we all love the 80s and 90s, we all love candy and sugar drinks, and we all love talking about it. Perpetuate the cycle, discuss. Amen.
"Stephen" ~Ke$ha. (The best Ke$sha song there ever was.)
Friday, October 1, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Then & Now (According To Me)
Current Track: "Shake It" ~Metro Station (Look, it's not even 9:30am...I need to wake up. Let it be.)
I'd like to dedicate an entire blog post--this entire blog post--purely to nostalgia. More specifically, 80s nostalgia. For me, this is my childhood. Some of you weren't even born yet, some of you were already grown. (I write this as if others actually read this blog!) Anyway, I felt it only appropriate since not only am I a product of the 80s, but I am a product of the 80s in the (201), which we all know is a special sort of thing. 80s and Jersey are synonymous, so let's take full advantage and rock it with pride. Big hair, blue makeup, and legwarmers for all! (I am so running for president.) Let's begin, shall we?
*Note to reader: I was a CHILD in the 80s, not a whole human yet, so let's not get all touchy if I don't remember the details of Knight Rider or can't name the members of The Pet Shop Boys. I'm sticking to my perception of the 80s...
First up is music.
Then: As a little girl, nothing was more exciting than The New Kids On The Block. Nothing. I can still recite every word to every song to this day, except now I get to laugh at how ridiculous a bunch of skinny, white teenagers look singing something called "Hangin' Tough" instead of swooning over it. I had NKOTB umbrellas, bedsheets, lunchboxes, posters, pajamas, and, yes, the dolls. The Jordan doll actually came WITH the rat tail attached to his head, for those who remember those kick-ass haircuts back in the day. (I later cut it off the doll, since I was upset that only the rat tail was "real hair." The other "hair" was plastic, a la Ken dolls.)
Now: Jordan Knight and the rest of the gang are older and creepier. And for the nonbelievers out there, check out the AOL Sessions videos (http://music.aol.com/video/step-by-step-aol-sessions/new-kids-on-the-block/2227910). At the very least, you'll get a good laugh. They still know (and perform) all of the original dance moves. Problem is, I'm no longer eight and it's no longer attractive. And what's the equivalent nowadays? I guess you could say groups like Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC (but that was awhile ago), so maybe Justin Beiber? Yes. Justin Beiber...add your own thoughts. (My opinion? Love him. Shut up.)
Then: Pop music, in general, was awesome. Although I was young, I had a mom who was heavily into awesome 80s music and who would blast it in the car so we could both sing along. We definitely have cassette recordings (made possible by the lastest technology, my Fisher-Price tape player with microphone) of me singing along to the greats, such as Wham! ("Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" is a household favorite), Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, Janet Jackson ("Miss You Much" is another sing-along family fave), Whitney Houston, Hall & Oats (don't judge), Tiffany, Debbie Gibson (pardon...it's Deborah now), Foreigner, Journey...OK, this list could go on for hours. Point is, all of these people/groups were crazy-popular in the 80s for their music, and all of them were pretty different. The radio harbored a plethora of different sounds--all of which were awesome, all of which were somewhat unique, and all of which we all remember and still rock out to (even if it's alone in our cars at night).
Now: Is it me or is all current pop music starting to blend together into one, big, electronic beat of a song? Most of the things I hear now sound oddly similar to the song played before it (and the song played after it) and it definitely bums me out a bit. Of course, there are exceptions. Lady Gaga has definitely separated herself from the pack, although it's less because of her music and more because of her extracurriculars. I will say, though, that I saw her in concert and was totally floored with how incredible she was as a performer and singer. The same things can be said about Katy Perry. She's definitely a little different, but it's not so much due to her "unique" pop music. As a human, I think she's an ignorant mess, but her music is catchy and her videos are pretty cool and her look turns heads. And her boobs are real--success! But pop music, in general, seems to have spiraled into a depression. It's all pretty generic, it's all been done before. It's certainly no Kajagoogoo.
Next up, television.
Then: I think it's only fair to start with what may be the scariest TV show of all time--Zoobilee Zoo. This Emmy Award-winning fright fest ran in '86 and '87, and left scars on the minds of children all over the nation. Truthfully, I get it. It was another attempt at a children's TV show where they could talk about morals and overcoming obstacles in a "world" that children could enjoy watching. However, these were full grown adults (yes, Ben Vereen, I'm talking to you) in not-so-convincing costumes, who I think would have been more convincing as Stephen King's "IT." I have remembered this show for over 20 years only because it was THAT frightening. 'Nuff said.
Also, who could forget Mister Rogers' Neighborhood? This show is a classic, from the old man sweaters to the train that went...into the wall...to another world of puppets?...to the catchy intro song to the old man himself. Yet again, morals are taught, obstacles are overcome, and there is an adult, but he is NOT in a creepy costume pretending to be something he's not. He's just the naturally creepy pedophile-like old guy next door whose house you cannot wear shoes in. Slippers only, folks.
And of course, the kick-ass 80s shows like "You Can't Do That On Television" (all hail sketch comedy for kids and Alanis Morrisette's rockin' bowl cut), the acid trip formally known as "Fraggle Rock," "Thundercats," "The Smurfs," every Nickelodeon show ever, etc. This stroll down memory lane is brought to you by the letter M.
Now: I'm not 100% sure what all kids shows are like today, but I can tell you that I have younger cousins who watch "Bratz." Bratz is an obnoxious cartoon with girls who have giant skulls and wear way too much makeup for any child to even think about. On the other hand, it's not Ben Vereen in a lion "costume." I know Sesame Street still runs, so that's a plus, but it seems Nickelodeon has replaced it once-loved cartoons and delightfully tacky commercials with tween-aged dramas and, well, crap. I know kids are growing up faster, but geez...do they have to have an episode of "Omigosh, LOL, My Life Is So Hard Because I'm 10, But Text Me Anyway" where So-And-So loses her virginity in the 4th grade??? I'm just sayin'...
Next on my list are fads and toys, things and stuff...
Then: I was too young for Dungeons & Dragons, but I definitely had my fair share of Trivial Pursuit and Uno. And we all had a Rubik's Cube, which we all lost interest in after about five minutes of failure. If you were awesome, you had an Atari and, later, a Nintendo. Pong, Tetris, Duck Hunt, etc. All video games that weren't completely mind-numbing, and you were able to put them down after awhile...unlike some others nowadays. And who didn't play Hungry Hungry Hippos (and accidentally swallow one or two of those little, white, plastic balls) or Lite Brite (and swallow a few of those colored bulbs)? Clearly, I was a semi-dangerous kid.
Being a somewhat girly girl, I most certainly had Cabbage Path dolls (although mine was a hand-me-down), Barbies (of every kind, my favorite being Totally Hair Barbie, whose hair I cut off, thinking it would grow back...it didn't...), a Strawberry Shortcake doll (who, for the first week, smelled like strawberries!), Rainbow Bright accessories, She-Ra action figures, Jem EVERYTHING, My Little Pony dolls, Care Bears (I had the one with the lock on his tummy...who was he keeping out?), Glow Worm, etc. All seriously awesome toys, yes, but one toy outranks all of the above, and more.
Teddy Ruxpin. The reigning king of all 80s toys. In retrospect, we all should have been terrified to have something like this in our possession, but at the time, I found solace and comfort in having this mechanical bear under my arm at night. Each night, my mom would send me to bed with Teddy Ruxpin and a cassette tape. His loud, mechanical mouth would move and his mechanical eyes would blink and, somehow, I felt safe and fell asleep. He told stories and kept you company when you were alone in your room, swearing your parents were downstairs having way more fun without you. Teddy Ruxpin was a friend to many a lonely child, despite his blatant similarity to a Chuckie doll.
Now: Every so often I see TV or magazine ads for children's toys. They are becoming far and few between since electronics have consumed the children's market. Now, instead of asking for the latest doll or action figure for Christmas, eight-year-olds want Blackberrys to BBM other eight-year-olds or World Of Warcraft, so they can talk to kids in Calcutta playing the same game. Cool? Yes. Disturbing? Totally. Do kids ever go outside anymore? We had swing sets and Slip-n-Slides (well, I didn't have a Slip-n-Slide, I had a sprinkler, but my friends had them) and Barbie Cars. I feel like no one plays outside anymore or cooks on plastic kitchens on rainy days. Video games. Cell phones. Facebook. Done.
Last, but not least, everybody's favorite 80s discussion topic: Fashion.
*There are a LOT of 80s trends that have re-emerged as acceptable and fashionable lately, like leggings with big shirts, bangle bracelets, some legwarmers. So I'm going to skip those and focus on what will, hopefully, never come back--but were so rad at the time.
Then: Certain looks are distinctly 80s--even more so, Jersey 80s. First culprit, Jordache and Sasson jeans that button around the rib cage, ended just a little above the ankle (to show off your awesome neon socks), and were so thick and stiff, that bending was no longer an option. These were especially bad when whitewashed or marbleized. And speaking of neon socks, I'm hoping the layered, neon WigWams with the matching neon button-down shirt look doesn't resurface in my lifetime. Everyone's retinas need a break. But, I must say, my all-time favorite outfit always consisted of black, stirrup leggings tucked into huge WigWam socks with white, canvas Keds, topped with an oversized sweatshirt and a gigantic bow in my side ponytail. I was a looker, for sure.
Some other things that we should pray never creep back into our lives are those awful high-collared ruffled blouses. Or any saggy, puffy, or ruffly silk blouses at all. Also, any kind of sweats with the metallic puffy paint (we had tons of these, as my aunt used to make them for us) or anything sporting giant bedazzles. Yeesh. Dropwaist dresses were a huge mistake too. If Molly Ringwald looked like a floral garbage bag, imagine what the rest of us looked like. And I'm happy to say that I haven't seen anyone rockin' the thong leotard with leggings and a belt lately, although I'm sure you can find some at the HILARIOUS Web site: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ Always a crowd-pleaser and full of 80s leftovers.
As far as hair goes, this is the (201) and big hair will never totally fade out, though I'm happy to have graduated from my once gravity-defying, fanned-out bangs and crimped half-ponytails. I'm also happy to have finally thrown out my blue and green mascara and the electric blue eyeshadow--even though I keep a secret stash of it, just in case. Same goes for giant, fabric scrunchies. I'll admit, I have a few in my box-o-hair stuff, but they are strictly for the purposes of sleeping with a comfortable ponytail. And Halloween. French braids, rat tails, banana clips, mullets...all things best left to the memory of the 1980s. Nothing more.
Now: It's hard to discuss/criticize current fashion. What may be totally hot now will probably have me laughing at old pictures in 25 years. Plus, a lot of what's hot right now, as I said before, is circa 1984 anyway, though we've toned down the makeup a bit. Leggings, off-the-shoulder shirts, bangles, and bright colors are in. Bland and beige and plaid 90s fashion is (thankfully) out.
Things I hope go away soon? The enlarged "Snooki poof." I think the world will manage without. Wearing tiny vests with nothing underneath. I don't care how hot you are and how amazing your body is...you look like a hooker trying to look professional. Those one-piece tank-top-tube-top/shorts onesie thingies. What the hell is that? Everyone looks fat. Everyone. They're awful and make me thankful that summer is coming to an end. Gladiator sandals...I'm all for 'em...the ones with tact. The over-the-top, way-too-strappy, super metallic ones? They make your feet look manly. Wearing UGG boots with shorts of skirts...come on, ladies. Have some dignity.
And I think that's enough for now...please add your own modern social commentary!
I love nostalgia. I love memories. And I love the 80s.
And, if you're anything like me (obsessed with nostalgia), PLEASE watch the videos created by "The Nostalgia Critic" for video and commentary on movies, TV shows, and more from our childhood at: http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/thatguywiththeglasses/nostalgia-critic
Current Track: "Alive" ~Pearl Jam. Yay!
I'd like to dedicate an entire blog post--this entire blog post--purely to nostalgia. More specifically, 80s nostalgia. For me, this is my childhood. Some of you weren't even born yet, some of you were already grown. (I write this as if others actually read this blog!) Anyway, I felt it only appropriate since not only am I a product of the 80s, but I am a product of the 80s in the (201), which we all know is a special sort of thing. 80s and Jersey are synonymous, so let's take full advantage and rock it with pride. Big hair, blue makeup, and legwarmers for all! (I am so running for president.) Let's begin, shall we?
*Note to reader: I was a CHILD in the 80s, not a whole human yet, so let's not get all touchy if I don't remember the details of Knight Rider or can't name the members of The Pet Shop Boys. I'm sticking to my perception of the 80s...
First up is music.
Then: As a little girl, nothing was more exciting than The New Kids On The Block. Nothing. I can still recite every word to every song to this day, except now I get to laugh at how ridiculous a bunch of skinny, white teenagers look singing something called "Hangin' Tough" instead of swooning over it. I had NKOTB umbrellas, bedsheets, lunchboxes, posters, pajamas, and, yes, the dolls. The Jordan doll actually came WITH the rat tail attached to his head, for those who remember those kick-ass haircuts back in the day. (I later cut it off the doll, since I was upset that only the rat tail was "real hair." The other "hair" was plastic, a la Ken dolls.)
Now: Jordan Knight and the rest of the gang are older and creepier. And for the nonbelievers out there, check out the AOL Sessions videos (http://music.aol.com/video/step-by-step-aol-sessions/new-kids-on-the-block/2227910). At the very least, you'll get a good laugh. They still know (and perform) all of the original dance moves. Problem is, I'm no longer eight and it's no longer attractive. And what's the equivalent nowadays? I guess you could say groups like Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC (but that was awhile ago), so maybe Justin Beiber? Yes. Justin Beiber...add your own thoughts. (My opinion? Love him. Shut up.)
Then: Pop music, in general, was awesome. Although I was young, I had a mom who was heavily into awesome 80s music and who would blast it in the car so we could both sing along. We definitely have cassette recordings (made possible by the lastest technology, my Fisher-Price tape player with microphone) of me singing along to the greats, such as Wham! ("Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" is a household favorite), Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Kenny Loggins, Billy Joel, Janet Jackson ("Miss You Much" is another sing-along family fave), Whitney Houston, Hall & Oats (don't judge), Tiffany, Debbie Gibson (pardon...it's Deborah now), Foreigner, Journey...OK, this list could go on for hours. Point is, all of these people/groups were crazy-popular in the 80s for their music, and all of them were pretty different. The radio harbored a plethora of different sounds--all of which were awesome, all of which were somewhat unique, and all of which we all remember and still rock out to (even if it's alone in our cars at night).
Now: Is it me or is all current pop music starting to blend together into one, big, electronic beat of a song? Most of the things I hear now sound oddly similar to the song played before it (and the song played after it) and it definitely bums me out a bit. Of course, there are exceptions. Lady Gaga has definitely separated herself from the pack, although it's less because of her music and more because of her extracurriculars. I will say, though, that I saw her in concert and was totally floored with how incredible she was as a performer and singer. The same things can be said about Katy Perry. She's definitely a little different, but it's not so much due to her "unique" pop music. As a human, I think she's an ignorant mess, but her music is catchy and her videos are pretty cool and her look turns heads. And her boobs are real--success! But pop music, in general, seems to have spiraled into a depression. It's all pretty generic, it's all been done before. It's certainly no Kajagoogoo.
Next up, television.
Then: I think it's only fair to start with what may be the scariest TV show of all time--Zoobilee Zoo. This Emmy Award-winning fright fest ran in '86 and '87, and left scars on the minds of children all over the nation. Truthfully, I get it. It was another attempt at a children's TV show where they could talk about morals and overcoming obstacles in a "world" that children could enjoy watching. However, these were full grown adults (yes, Ben Vereen, I'm talking to you) in not-so-convincing costumes, who I think would have been more convincing as Stephen King's "IT." I have remembered this show for over 20 years only because it was THAT frightening. 'Nuff said.
Also, who could forget Mister Rogers' Neighborhood? This show is a classic, from the old man sweaters to the train that went...into the wall...to another world of puppets?...to the catchy intro song to the old man himself. Yet again, morals are taught, obstacles are overcome, and there is an adult, but he is NOT in a creepy costume pretending to be something he's not. He's just the naturally creepy pedophile-like old guy next door whose house you cannot wear shoes in. Slippers only, folks.
And of course, the kick-ass 80s shows like "You Can't Do That On Television" (all hail sketch comedy for kids and Alanis Morrisette's rockin' bowl cut), the acid trip formally known as "Fraggle Rock," "Thundercats," "The Smurfs," every Nickelodeon show ever, etc. This stroll down memory lane is brought to you by the letter M.
Now: I'm not 100% sure what all kids shows are like today, but I can tell you that I have younger cousins who watch "Bratz." Bratz is an obnoxious cartoon with girls who have giant skulls and wear way too much makeup for any child to even think about. On the other hand, it's not Ben Vereen in a lion "costume." I know Sesame Street still runs, so that's a plus, but it seems Nickelodeon has replaced it once-loved cartoons and delightfully tacky commercials with tween-aged dramas and, well, crap. I know kids are growing up faster, but geez...do they have to have an episode of "Omigosh, LOL, My Life Is So Hard Because I'm 10, But Text Me Anyway" where So-And-So loses her virginity in the 4th grade??? I'm just sayin'...
Next on my list are fads and toys, things and stuff...
Then: I was too young for Dungeons & Dragons, but I definitely had my fair share of Trivial Pursuit and Uno. And we all had a Rubik's Cube, which we all lost interest in after about five minutes of failure. If you were awesome, you had an Atari and, later, a Nintendo. Pong, Tetris, Duck Hunt, etc. All video games that weren't completely mind-numbing, and you were able to put them down after awhile...unlike some others nowadays. And who didn't play Hungry Hungry Hippos (and accidentally swallow one or two of those little, white, plastic balls) or Lite Brite (and swallow a few of those colored bulbs)? Clearly, I was a semi-dangerous kid.
Being a somewhat girly girl, I most certainly had Cabbage Path dolls (although mine was a hand-me-down), Barbies (of every kind, my favorite being Totally Hair Barbie, whose hair I cut off, thinking it would grow back...it didn't...), a Strawberry Shortcake doll (who, for the first week, smelled like strawberries!), Rainbow Bright accessories, She-Ra action figures, Jem EVERYTHING, My Little Pony dolls, Care Bears (I had the one with the lock on his tummy...who was he keeping out?), Glow Worm, etc. All seriously awesome toys, yes, but one toy outranks all of the above, and more.
Teddy Ruxpin. The reigning king of all 80s toys. In retrospect, we all should have been terrified to have something like this in our possession, but at the time, I found solace and comfort in having this mechanical bear under my arm at night. Each night, my mom would send me to bed with Teddy Ruxpin and a cassette tape. His loud, mechanical mouth would move and his mechanical eyes would blink and, somehow, I felt safe and fell asleep. He told stories and kept you company when you were alone in your room, swearing your parents were downstairs having way more fun without you. Teddy Ruxpin was a friend to many a lonely child, despite his blatant similarity to a Chuckie doll.
Now: Every so often I see TV or magazine ads for children's toys. They are becoming far and few between since electronics have consumed the children's market. Now, instead of asking for the latest doll or action figure for Christmas, eight-year-olds want Blackberrys to BBM other eight-year-olds or World Of Warcraft, so they can talk to kids in Calcutta playing the same game. Cool? Yes. Disturbing? Totally. Do kids ever go outside anymore? We had swing sets and Slip-n-Slides (well, I didn't have a Slip-n-Slide, I had a sprinkler, but my friends had them) and Barbie Cars. I feel like no one plays outside anymore or cooks on plastic kitchens on rainy days. Video games. Cell phones. Facebook. Done.
Last, but not least, everybody's favorite 80s discussion topic: Fashion.
*There are a LOT of 80s trends that have re-emerged as acceptable and fashionable lately, like leggings with big shirts, bangle bracelets, some legwarmers. So I'm going to skip those and focus on what will, hopefully, never come back--but were so rad at the time.
Then: Certain looks are distinctly 80s--even more so, Jersey 80s. First culprit, Jordache and Sasson jeans that button around the rib cage, ended just a little above the ankle (to show off your awesome neon socks), and were so thick and stiff, that bending was no longer an option. These were especially bad when whitewashed or marbleized. And speaking of neon socks, I'm hoping the layered, neon WigWams with the matching neon button-down shirt look doesn't resurface in my lifetime. Everyone's retinas need a break. But, I must say, my all-time favorite outfit always consisted of black, stirrup leggings tucked into huge WigWam socks with white, canvas Keds, topped with an oversized sweatshirt and a gigantic bow in my side ponytail. I was a looker, for sure.
Some other things that we should pray never creep back into our lives are those awful high-collared ruffled blouses. Or any saggy, puffy, or ruffly silk blouses at all. Also, any kind of sweats with the metallic puffy paint (we had tons of these, as my aunt used to make them for us) or anything sporting giant bedazzles. Yeesh. Dropwaist dresses were a huge mistake too. If Molly Ringwald looked like a floral garbage bag, imagine what the rest of us looked like. And I'm happy to say that I haven't seen anyone rockin' the thong leotard with leggings and a belt lately, although I'm sure you can find some at the HILARIOUS Web site: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/ Always a crowd-pleaser and full of 80s leftovers.
As far as hair goes, this is the (201) and big hair will never totally fade out, though I'm happy to have graduated from my once gravity-defying, fanned-out bangs and crimped half-ponytails. I'm also happy to have finally thrown out my blue and green mascara and the electric blue eyeshadow--even though I keep a secret stash of it, just in case. Same goes for giant, fabric scrunchies. I'll admit, I have a few in my box-o-hair stuff, but they are strictly for the purposes of sleeping with a comfortable ponytail. And Halloween. French braids, rat tails, banana clips, mullets...all things best left to the memory of the 1980s. Nothing more.
Now: It's hard to discuss/criticize current fashion. What may be totally hot now will probably have me laughing at old pictures in 25 years. Plus, a lot of what's hot right now, as I said before, is circa 1984 anyway, though we've toned down the makeup a bit. Leggings, off-the-shoulder shirts, bangles, and bright colors are in. Bland and beige and plaid 90s fashion is (thankfully) out.
Things I hope go away soon? The enlarged "Snooki poof." I think the world will manage without. Wearing tiny vests with nothing underneath. I don't care how hot you are and how amazing your body is...you look like a hooker trying to look professional. Those one-piece tank-top-tube-top/shorts onesie thingies. What the hell is that? Everyone looks fat. Everyone. They're awful and make me thankful that summer is coming to an end. Gladiator sandals...I'm all for 'em...the ones with tact. The over-the-top, way-too-strappy, super metallic ones? They make your feet look manly. Wearing UGG boots with shorts of skirts...come on, ladies. Have some dignity.
And I think that's enough for now...please add your own modern social commentary!
I love nostalgia. I love memories. And I love the 80s.
And, if you're anything like me (obsessed with nostalgia), PLEASE watch the videos created by "The Nostalgia Critic" for video and commentary on movies, TV shows, and more from our childhood at: http://thatguywiththeglasses.com/videolinks/thatguywiththeglasses/nostalgia-critic
Current Track: "Alive" ~Pearl Jam. Yay!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Mission: Recapture Thy Youth
Current Track: "Who'd Have Known" ~Lily Allen
I am currently on a mission to recapture my youth. And not in the creepy "I don't want to grow up" or "I don't want to be responsible for anything" sort of way, but in the "Man, I was so much happier when I was younger" kind of way. There must be a way to be a grown up and still feel like a kid, and I'm going to find it.
I believe that as we get older, we lose touch, more and more, with what it was that used to make us genuinely smile and enjoy our lives. We get so distracted with things we "have to do" or things we "should be doing," that we completely neglect what it is we want and love to do.
So, I've decided that I want to go back. I want to go back to the way I used to feel about life, about myself, back in the day. And in order to do so, I have to figure out what used to be in my life that no longer is, the things I truly miss and the reasons I miss them, and the things that drive me crazy now that never used to.
Money: As my life stands right now, money is ALWAYS at the top of my list of things to worry about. How much to I have? How much can I spend? How can I get more? What will I have to sacrifice if I can't get more? And so on---you all know the drill. But in high school and college (and before then, of course), money was never something I worried about. Ever.
And, let's face it, I had absolutely no money in high school. I worked part-time jobs after school just to save up enough to put some money down on a very inexpensive lease. Then I continued to work as many hours as possible after school to afford the monthly car payments, the gas for the car, and, of course, to buy random crap I didn't need---you know, things like cigarettes and makeup and lunch and movie tickets, etc. Those were my big expenses. And while I never had any really substantial amount of money to deal with, I never worried about it. I never got upset when I had very little cash, I never freaked out when I thought I'd spent too much. You would never find me at age 16 huddled over my check book---did I even have a checkbook then?---crying over the minuscule balance. Somehow, I always had just enough to cover whatever it was I was planning to do that day, and I was content with the knowledge that it was just money and I would always be able to make more.
Somewhere along the line, I lost that. The truth is, it is just money. You really can always make more. It may not be easy or fun, but you can always make more and it shouldn't be the sole source of your stress or the only way to bring you happiness.
I'm reclaiming that right now.
Doing absolutely nothing and having a blast: I think I miss this more than anything else from my past. When I was in high school, the best times I remember having were always when we were doing nothing. Since we were 17, we had cars but nowhere to go. Too old to stay home but too young to party (in public), myself and some friends would pile into one car and drive aimlessly around the (201) blasting loud music, smoking cigarettes, laughing, talking, and loving every minute of it. And we would do it any night of the week. We didn't plan it or talk it out. It just happened. Sometimes we would complain to each other that "we never do anything," but the truth is, we loved it. And we loved each other. And we were all best friends. Just being together and hanging out was enough.
And then we grew up, and it didn't seem to be enough anymore.
Nowadays, when I meet up with friends, we have to make a date. WELL ahead of time. We're older, we have full time jobs, rent to pay, things to take care of, and life gets in the way of being spontaneous---which is fine. But sometimes these "dates" end up feeling more like obligations than a true expression of friendship. We have to "catch up" on what we've missed in the 3 months since we've seen each other last. Back in the day, there was no need to catch up. Everyone already knew. I miss the feeling of just being with people and having that be enough. I miss the feeling of sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night on a Saturday and talking to people for hours while blasting the car stereo and singing along to whatever came up on the radio. And I miss knowing people on a daily basis.
This, too, I must reclaim. When nothing is enough, you seem to have everything.
Writing: When I was in high school, all I ever wanted to do was write. I had piles and piles of journals and notebooks and boxes filled with scraps of paper, napkins, and diner place mats. And I took everything I wrote very seriously. Every quote, every song lyric, every poem, every diary entry meant something. They were profound and moving and unique. They were my childhood years, in millions of tiny words on hundreds of pieces of paper, and they were going to be important one day. They were all going to get me to the place I wanted to be---Rolling Stone. I was convinced.
It was also therapeutic. I wrote down every heartbreak, every accomplishment, every struggle, every joy, and every sadness. It was an outlet, a way to let go of it all. None of it was inside of me after it was spread of on the pages of an "Emily The Strange" journal or on the inside cover of my AP Psych notebook. It was out and it was gone and I was happier for it.
Now, the only time I write is when my boss calls out for the day, giving me some time to blog, which is rare. Otherwise, I'm far too busy with my multiple jobs or paying my bills or going on friend dates to find any time to write. And I miss it.
Consider it reclaimed, as of today. (I MUST find another Emily The Strange journal.)
These are just some of the things that I believe I've lost along the way, and that I also believe are completely possible to reclaim and get back. And I plan on it. It's a first step to getting back to a simpler form of happiness, maybe even a purer form.
Of course, there are definitely some things I do not miss:
Sleeping late: I didn't find out until AFTER college that things happen before 1pm on a Saturday, and I'm glad I did! I get so much more accomplished when I wake up during the first half of the day.
Drinking cheap alcohol: Although this was our only option pre-21st birthdays, I'm glad it's over, for many-o-reason.
Living at home: I lived at home, through college, until I was 24. Now that I'm no longer living under my parents' roof, my relationships with them have become that much more important, and also much more dear to me. I genuinely enjoy going home to do my laundry because I love spending time with my family. I find myself missing them, something that never happened before I moved out, because I was never away from them (and they were never away from me) long enough to warrant missing.
Crappy retail jobs: When you're 15 or 16, almost no one will hire you. And, if they do, they are going to pay you next to nothing. I worked a string of crappy retail jobs that never paid more than five or six bucks an hours. They were, by no means, fun. I did, however, meet awesome people along the way, and while I do miss just "working for spending money" (versus working for actual money to survive) and the people I worked with, I do NOT miss the jobs themselves.
I'm so glad that I didn't know then what I know now...I would have skipped so many awesome steps.
Current track: "Sleep All Day" ~Jason Mraz
I am currently on a mission to recapture my youth. And not in the creepy "I don't want to grow up" or "I don't want to be responsible for anything" sort of way, but in the "Man, I was so much happier when I was younger" kind of way. There must be a way to be a grown up and still feel like a kid, and I'm going to find it.
I believe that as we get older, we lose touch, more and more, with what it was that used to make us genuinely smile and enjoy our lives. We get so distracted with things we "have to do" or things we "should be doing," that we completely neglect what it is we want and love to do.
So, I've decided that I want to go back. I want to go back to the way I used to feel about life, about myself, back in the day. And in order to do so, I have to figure out what used to be in my life that no longer is, the things I truly miss and the reasons I miss them, and the things that drive me crazy now that never used to.
Money: As my life stands right now, money is ALWAYS at the top of my list of things to worry about. How much to I have? How much can I spend? How can I get more? What will I have to sacrifice if I can't get more? And so on---you all know the drill. But in high school and college (and before then, of course), money was never something I worried about. Ever.
And, let's face it, I had absolutely no money in high school. I worked part-time jobs after school just to save up enough to put some money down on a very inexpensive lease. Then I continued to work as many hours as possible after school to afford the monthly car payments, the gas for the car, and, of course, to buy random crap I didn't need---you know, things like cigarettes and makeup and lunch and movie tickets, etc. Those were my big expenses. And while I never had any really substantial amount of money to deal with, I never worried about it. I never got upset when I had very little cash, I never freaked out when I thought I'd spent too much. You would never find me at age 16 huddled over my check book---did I even have a checkbook then?---crying over the minuscule balance. Somehow, I always had just enough to cover whatever it was I was planning to do that day, and I was content with the knowledge that it was just money and I would always be able to make more.
Somewhere along the line, I lost that. The truth is, it is just money. You really can always make more. It may not be easy or fun, but you can always make more and it shouldn't be the sole source of your stress or the only way to bring you happiness.
I'm reclaiming that right now.
Doing absolutely nothing and having a blast: I think I miss this more than anything else from my past. When I was in high school, the best times I remember having were always when we were doing nothing. Since we were 17, we had cars but nowhere to go. Too old to stay home but too young to party (in public), myself and some friends would pile into one car and drive aimlessly around the (201) blasting loud music, smoking cigarettes, laughing, talking, and loving every minute of it. And we would do it any night of the week. We didn't plan it or talk it out. It just happened. Sometimes we would complain to each other that "we never do anything," but the truth is, we loved it. And we loved each other. And we were all best friends. Just being together and hanging out was enough.
And then we grew up, and it didn't seem to be enough anymore.
Nowadays, when I meet up with friends, we have to make a date. WELL ahead of time. We're older, we have full time jobs, rent to pay, things to take care of, and life gets in the way of being spontaneous---which is fine. But sometimes these "dates" end up feeling more like obligations than a true expression of friendship. We have to "catch up" on what we've missed in the 3 months since we've seen each other last. Back in the day, there was no need to catch up. Everyone already knew. I miss the feeling of just being with people and having that be enough. I miss the feeling of sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night on a Saturday and talking to people for hours while blasting the car stereo and singing along to whatever came up on the radio. And I miss knowing people on a daily basis.
This, too, I must reclaim. When nothing is enough, you seem to have everything.
Writing: When I was in high school, all I ever wanted to do was write. I had piles and piles of journals and notebooks and boxes filled with scraps of paper, napkins, and diner place mats. And I took everything I wrote very seriously. Every quote, every song lyric, every poem, every diary entry meant something. They were profound and moving and unique. They were my childhood years, in millions of tiny words on hundreds of pieces of paper, and they were going to be important one day. They were all going to get me to the place I wanted to be---Rolling Stone. I was convinced.
It was also therapeutic. I wrote down every heartbreak, every accomplishment, every struggle, every joy, and every sadness. It was an outlet, a way to let go of it all. None of it was inside of me after it was spread of on the pages of an "Emily The Strange" journal or on the inside cover of my AP Psych notebook. It was out and it was gone and I was happier for it.
Now, the only time I write is when my boss calls out for the day, giving me some time to blog, which is rare. Otherwise, I'm far too busy with my multiple jobs or paying my bills or going on friend dates to find any time to write. And I miss it.
Consider it reclaimed, as of today. (I MUST find another Emily The Strange journal.)
These are just some of the things that I believe I've lost along the way, and that I also believe are completely possible to reclaim and get back. And I plan on it. It's a first step to getting back to a simpler form of happiness, maybe even a purer form.
Of course, there are definitely some things I do not miss:
Sleeping late: I didn't find out until AFTER college that things happen before 1pm on a Saturday, and I'm glad I did! I get so much more accomplished when I wake up during the first half of the day.
Drinking cheap alcohol: Although this was our only option pre-21st birthdays, I'm glad it's over, for many-o-reason.
Living at home: I lived at home, through college, until I was 24. Now that I'm no longer living under my parents' roof, my relationships with them have become that much more important, and also much more dear to me. I genuinely enjoy going home to do my laundry because I love spending time with my family. I find myself missing them, something that never happened before I moved out, because I was never away from them (and they were never away from me) long enough to warrant missing.
Crappy retail jobs: When you're 15 or 16, almost no one will hire you. And, if they do, they are going to pay you next to nothing. I worked a string of crappy retail jobs that never paid more than five or six bucks an hours. They were, by no means, fun. I did, however, meet awesome people along the way, and while I do miss just "working for spending money" (versus working for actual money to survive) and the people I worked with, I do NOT miss the jobs themselves.
I'm so glad that I didn't know then what I know now...I would have skipped so many awesome steps.
Current track: "Sleep All Day" ~Jason Mraz
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Just. Be. Normal.
"My Heart" ~Paramore. (Win.)
This entry is for Joe. For two reasons. One, he asked me to post a new entry, which I guess is reason enough--but there's more. Two, he, of all people, will understand why I wrote this entry the best. So, Joe, cheers.
I would like, if I may, to discuss office behavior. I believe this is something that everyone who works in an office (which is most of us here in the (201), sadly) complains about on a daily basis, yet none of us ever grow a set big enough to do something about it. Now, I'm not saying I'm going to change the office world one blog post at a time...I just need a new forum in which to complain, other than to my other office-working comrades.
I, like most, work in a generic office in North Jersey. My office consists of mostly women, which, I think, is problem number one. Women, especially in an office, "working together"-type setting, become awful, deplorable human beings, given the right motivation. The gossip and mean-spirited things that the women in my office say about the other women in my office are horrible at best. Most of the talk, as with anywhere, really, is spawned from jealousy and insecurity; however, in an office setting, things are amplified--like whoa. We're all within the same four walls for almost nine hours a day, five days a week. Word spreads. Everyone is a double agent. Watch. Your. Back. (Or, at least, your inbox.)
And where does all this gossip and chit chat take place? Why, the bathroom, of course! Women are notorious for going to the bathroom together, and, let's face it, it's not to hold hands and tell each other how pretty we are. It's to talk about whomever we're with or around without them listening in. A bathroom, even public, allows for the semi-privacy needed to say and do what you feel you must with a limited amount of intruders. Therefore, it's the perfect watering hole for gossip-mongers and trash-talkers alike.
I have found myself, more often than not, in a stall in the office bathroom, minding my own business (literally and figuratively), only to hear two or more women crash through the door to pretend to wash their hands so that they can trash talk the woman in accounting's awful outfit, the hatred they posses for their boss and his family, the clever ways they're getting around doing any work, the way they're cheating the clocking in/clocking out system, etc. Some of these women aren't smart enough to check to make sure no one else is in the bathroom before they start running their mouths, which, of course, is how word spreads even faster.
Example: I was in a stall, once again (I drink a lot of coffee), when a small group of women came into the bathroom together. Two of the women took the two stalls on either side of me, while the other two waited. They were already wrapped up in conversation and kept it going while they used the bathroom. So, there I sat, in the dead middle of their conversation, which I couldn't help overhearing, even I hadn't wanted to. (But, of course, I wanted to.) The women,who I couldn't identify by voice right away, we're going on and on about their boss and how he was the worst person ever because he had caught them sneaking out of the office without punching out for lunch, and reprimanded them. The things they said are too nasty to type out, even for me. To clarify: These women were essentially stealing time from the company (getting paid for hours they were not working). What they were doing was wrong in any office, whether you are on salary or paid hourly. They got caught and were mad that their boss did his job and reprimanded them. It was then I realized which boss they were talking about--my father, with whom I just so happen to share an office building. This is the point where I decided to make a run for it. I exited the stall, which brought the conversation to a complete halt, washed my hands, and simply said, "You should really check under the stalls before talking about people." I left.
*Note to reader: I did not mention this incident to my father. It would only have ended badly. Nevertheless, those women no longer acknowledge my existence.
Office etiquette lesson number one: Do NOT trash talk people in your office out loud. (At least wait until your lunch break, when you're relatively safe.)
Another bathroom issue that must be discussed: Ladies, listen up. I know we're all women and we all have the same parts, yadda yadda...however, there is no need to come out of a bathroom stall half undressed and finish up at the sink in front of everyone. If you took your pants OFF in the stall, I'm thinking it's just as easy to put them back ON in there as well. If I can do it, you can do it. Too often I see women stumbling out of the stall still pulling up their pants or skirts, buttoning their slacks or blouses, reshifting their breasts, etc. Yes, I know, we all reshift. We just don't all do it for everyone else to see. You were just in a private stall, where I couldn't see your awful granny bra and tummy flub. If you don't show me yours, I won't show you mine. Keep it behind closed doors. Thanks.
Office eittquette lesson number two: Keep your body parts to yourself, even in the bathroom.
Also, what's with brushing your teeth in a public office bathroom? I saw this happen around lunchtime in the office last week. I went to the office bathroom after lunch and found a woman from a different department brushing her teeth at the sink. The public sink...where people wash their dirty hands...and brush their hair...and wash out lunch containers. *shiver* I was completely grossed out. And she had a full arsenal of tooth care products with her to boot. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, floss, a face towel, etc. I was surprised she didn't bring her waterpik and Crest White Strips too. But she had all her products out, laying on the not-so-always-clean sink, and she was brushing--full force, complete with spitting and gargleing and so on. Um...eww. I think this is too much. A little inapproprite, no? Maybe it's just me...but I would rather not brush my teeth all day than brush them in the sink at the office.
Office eiitquette lesson number three: Your office, contrary to popular belief, is NOT your second home. Do not act the way you would in the privacy of your own place. Please, spare the rest of us the visual of your daily routines.
So, for now, there you have my office ettiquette beliefs, the bathroom edition. I rejoice in the solace of an empty office restroom. (It's the little things.)
Kudos to Joe for the inspiration to write it. Woop!
"Playing God" ~Paramore
This entry is for Joe. For two reasons. One, he asked me to post a new entry, which I guess is reason enough--but there's more. Two, he, of all people, will understand why I wrote this entry the best. So, Joe, cheers.
I would like, if I may, to discuss office behavior. I believe this is something that everyone who works in an office (which is most of us here in the (201), sadly) complains about on a daily basis, yet none of us ever grow a set big enough to do something about it. Now, I'm not saying I'm going to change the office world one blog post at a time...I just need a new forum in which to complain, other than to my other office-working comrades.
I, like most, work in a generic office in North Jersey. My office consists of mostly women, which, I think, is problem number one. Women, especially in an office, "working together"-type setting, become awful, deplorable human beings, given the right motivation. The gossip and mean-spirited things that the women in my office say about the other women in my office are horrible at best. Most of the talk, as with anywhere, really, is spawned from jealousy and insecurity; however, in an office setting, things are amplified--like whoa. We're all within the same four walls for almost nine hours a day, five days a week. Word spreads. Everyone is a double agent. Watch. Your. Back. (Or, at least, your inbox.)
And where does all this gossip and chit chat take place? Why, the bathroom, of course! Women are notorious for going to the bathroom together, and, let's face it, it's not to hold hands and tell each other how pretty we are. It's to talk about whomever we're with or around without them listening in. A bathroom, even public, allows for the semi-privacy needed to say and do what you feel you must with a limited amount of intruders. Therefore, it's the perfect watering hole for gossip-mongers and trash-talkers alike.
I have found myself, more often than not, in a stall in the office bathroom, minding my own business (literally and figuratively), only to hear two or more women crash through the door to pretend to wash their hands so that they can trash talk the woman in accounting's awful outfit, the hatred they posses for their boss and his family, the clever ways they're getting around doing any work, the way they're cheating the clocking in/clocking out system, etc. Some of these women aren't smart enough to check to make sure no one else is in the bathroom before they start running their mouths, which, of course, is how word spreads even faster.
Example: I was in a stall, once again (I drink a lot of coffee), when a small group of women came into the bathroom together. Two of the women took the two stalls on either side of me, while the other two waited. They were already wrapped up in conversation and kept it going while they used the bathroom. So, there I sat, in the dead middle of their conversation, which I couldn't help overhearing, even I hadn't wanted to. (But, of course, I wanted to.) The women,who I couldn't identify by voice right away, we're going on and on about their boss and how he was the worst person ever because he had caught them sneaking out of the office without punching out for lunch, and reprimanded them. The things they said are too nasty to type out, even for me. To clarify: These women were essentially stealing time from the company (getting paid for hours they were not working). What they were doing was wrong in any office, whether you are on salary or paid hourly. They got caught and were mad that their boss did his job and reprimanded them. It was then I realized which boss they were talking about--my father, with whom I just so happen to share an office building. This is the point where I decided to make a run for it. I exited the stall, which brought the conversation to a complete halt, washed my hands, and simply said, "You should really check under the stalls before talking about people." I left.
*Note to reader: I did not mention this incident to my father. It would only have ended badly. Nevertheless, those women no longer acknowledge my existence.
Office etiquette lesson number one: Do NOT trash talk people in your office out loud. (At least wait until your lunch break, when you're relatively safe.)
Another bathroom issue that must be discussed: Ladies, listen up. I know we're all women and we all have the same parts, yadda yadda...however, there is no need to come out of a bathroom stall half undressed and finish up at the sink in front of everyone. If you took your pants OFF in the stall, I'm thinking it's just as easy to put them back ON in there as well. If I can do it, you can do it. Too often I see women stumbling out of the stall still pulling up their pants or skirts, buttoning their slacks or blouses, reshifting their breasts, etc. Yes, I know, we all reshift. We just don't all do it for everyone else to see. You were just in a private stall, where I couldn't see your awful granny bra and tummy flub. If you don't show me yours, I won't show you mine. Keep it behind closed doors. Thanks.
Office eittquette lesson number two: Keep your body parts to yourself, even in the bathroom.
Also, what's with brushing your teeth in a public office bathroom? I saw this happen around lunchtime in the office last week. I went to the office bathroom after lunch and found a woman from a different department brushing her teeth at the sink. The public sink...where people wash their dirty hands...and brush their hair...and wash out lunch containers. *shiver* I was completely grossed out. And she had a full arsenal of tooth care products with her to boot. Toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, floss, a face towel, etc. I was surprised she didn't bring her waterpik and Crest White Strips too. But she had all her products out, laying on the not-so-always-clean sink, and she was brushing--full force, complete with spitting and gargleing and so on. Um...eww. I think this is too much. A little inapproprite, no? Maybe it's just me...but I would rather not brush my teeth all day than brush them in the sink at the office.
Office eiitquette lesson number three: Your office, contrary to popular belief, is NOT your second home. Do not act the way you would in the privacy of your own place. Please, spare the rest of us the visual of your daily routines.
So, for now, there you have my office ettiquette beliefs, the bathroom edition. I rejoice in the solace of an empty office restroom. (It's the little things.)
Kudos to Joe for the inspiration to write it. Woop!
"Playing God" ~Paramore
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Music Is My Hot, Hot Sex
"Piece Of My Heart" ~the late, great Janis Joplin
As promised, another blog emerges from the depths. *celebrate!*
Since I am dedicated to blogging about the (201) in general, and not just food--although, let's be honest, everyone loves food, especially in this area where we have a plethora of fabulous choices, plus, it's sooo my niche--I will dedicate this blog to music and my pursuit of it.
I recently decided that it has been far too long since I had been able to sing in public, and so I did what any other person who wanted to be in a band would do...nothing. I waited around for someone to say something about something. Consequently, it did me no good.
After learning that nothing got you, well, nothing, a good friend and fellow music junkie suggested I post an ad on Craigslist (North Jersey edition--woop!). I did so, reluctantly, knowing no one would answer it. I was horribly wrong, however, and got tons of responses from people looking for female vocalists. *SHOCK!* I had no idea there were so many people out there who respected female frontpeople.
(*This is my moment to proclaim my serious, deep, obsessive love for Linda Perry, an amazing songwriter, producer, and former kick-ass frontwoman for the ever-fantastic 4 Non Blondes. Ok, 90s nostalgic brain, you're done for now.)
Through all of these responses I weeded...and weeded some more. There are, by the way, some serious creeps out there on Craigslist...good thing it's anonymous. Geez. Be careful, ladies and gents. (I smell a new blog topic!) So, I found quite a few legit, serious bands who respected and desired female vocals--eureka, I say! And since then, I have been setting up auditions and jam sessions all over New Jersey. (I know, I know, Belleville and Parsippany do not count as part of the (201); however, Dirty Jerz is Dirty Jerz, and well all deserve out nods.)
This, so far, has been an insane, fun, liberating experience for me. It has pushed me out of my comfort zone, doing something I haven't done in years (sing in front of real people and not just my kitchen appliances and shower products), and is a seriously huge step in my quest for being happy by myself, for myself. A quest to find and do whatever it is that makes me happy and free (without living on a commune and eating barley and picking oranges...or whatever.) And most bands have been cover bands, which is what I'm looking for, so I get to do my own versions of songs that have inspired me to write, to smile, to cry, and to be. (Wait...I'm having another daydream about working with Linda Perry...)
Anyhoo, the goal here is to find a cool band, sing some cool songs, play in some cool bars, and have fun. I have zero desire to be a rock star, never have. I just want to do what I like and do it in a bar full or strangers, because, really, isn't that what life is all about?
So, hopefully, I will be coming to a bar near you very soon! *fingers crossed*
"Together With The Sundown" ~Stephen Jerzak (big "woo hoo!" to my brother for introducing me to this guy...excellent.)
As promised, another blog emerges from the depths. *celebrate!*
Since I am dedicated to blogging about the (201) in general, and not just food--although, let's be honest, everyone loves food, especially in this area where we have a plethora of fabulous choices, plus, it's sooo my niche--I will dedicate this blog to music and my pursuit of it.
I recently decided that it has been far too long since I had been able to sing in public, and so I did what any other person who wanted to be in a band would do...nothing. I waited around for someone to say something about something. Consequently, it did me no good.
After learning that nothing got you, well, nothing, a good friend and fellow music junkie suggested I post an ad on Craigslist (North Jersey edition--woop!). I did so, reluctantly, knowing no one would answer it. I was horribly wrong, however, and got tons of responses from people looking for female vocalists. *SHOCK!* I had no idea there were so many people out there who respected female frontpeople.
(*This is my moment to proclaim my serious, deep, obsessive love for Linda Perry, an amazing songwriter, producer, and former kick-ass frontwoman for the ever-fantastic 4 Non Blondes. Ok, 90s nostalgic brain, you're done for now.)
Through all of these responses I weeded...and weeded some more. There are, by the way, some serious creeps out there on Craigslist...good thing it's anonymous. Geez. Be careful, ladies and gents. (I smell a new blog topic!) So, I found quite a few legit, serious bands who respected and desired female vocals--eureka, I say! And since then, I have been setting up auditions and jam sessions all over New Jersey. (I know, I know, Belleville and Parsippany do not count as part of the (201); however, Dirty Jerz is Dirty Jerz, and well all deserve out nods.)
This, so far, has been an insane, fun, liberating experience for me. It has pushed me out of my comfort zone, doing something I haven't done in years (sing in front of real people and not just my kitchen appliances and shower products), and is a seriously huge step in my quest for being happy by myself, for myself. A quest to find and do whatever it is that makes me happy and free (without living on a commune and eating barley and picking oranges...or whatever.) And most bands have been cover bands, which is what I'm looking for, so I get to do my own versions of songs that have inspired me to write, to smile, to cry, and to be. (Wait...I'm having another daydream about working with Linda Perry...)
Anyhoo, the goal here is to find a cool band, sing some cool songs, play in some cool bars, and have fun. I have zero desire to be a rock star, never have. I just want to do what I like and do it in a bar full or strangers, because, really, isn't that what life is all about?
So, hopefully, I will be coming to a bar near you very soon! *fingers crossed*
"Together With The Sundown" ~Stephen Jerzak (big "woo hoo!" to my brother for introducing me to this guy...excellent.)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Welcome Back, Self
"The Garden's Tale" ~Volbeat (I suggest everyone hear this song at least once, and read the lyrics as you listen. You will be forever changed.)
It has been over two months since my last blog, and I think I'm ready to get back in the saddle. Much has changed in the past few months, and, in turn, this has changed a lot of my views on the (201). Not all of them...but a significant amount.
First, I must apologize to readers (if there are any), but mostly to myself, for not blogging. This was supposed to be my outlet, my place of peace and/or chaos. Instead, I made it a burden and neglected the commitment I had made to myself to blog regularly.
In plain words: I had a freak out (aka, break-up...'nuff said) and needed some time alone. I'm human. *gasp*
That being said---welcome back, self. Now back to my regularly scheduled (201)-ing.
***NEW FIND: Bistro 55, Route 17 South, Rochelle Park, NJ.***
Now, Bistro 55 may not be the newest restaurant ever, but it was new to me and I am in full-blown love with this place. From the atmosphere and service to the food and drinks, I was totally satisfied.
Bistro 55 is a free-standing building on Route 17, which I'm sure many of you have driven past at least 100 times, but never thought to try out. I was with you for a long time. I actually went because my mother had decided to have Mother's Day dinner there for herself, my grandmother, and my aunt. EUREKA!
The atmosphere is a low-lit, wood-centered, large room with a classy and modern decor. The place felt perfect for people who consider themselves young---but not that young. This would be people like myself, mid-twenties to mid-thirties...ish. The bar is front and center upon entering, and the room is flanked with groups of tables. It gives off a comfortable, private and, yet, popular vibe.
The service was impeccable. Our server, Diego, knew every detail about every item--both food and drink--on the menu, and was pleasant, helpful, and all smiles. (I give him TONS of credit for putting up with our table of 7 and everyone's constant questions and comments. My family is far from "easy," but I love them all the same.)
Their drink menu about 80% beer--celebrate!--and contains so many beers that I can rarely find anywhere else. For example, they had my favorite beer, Franziskaner, which I've only ever seen in Bottle King and at The Shepherd and the Knucklehead bar in Haledon. And since the server was so helpful, he was able to suggest a beer for my brother, who was having trouble deciding. And he loved it!
The food was as impressive as the atmosphere, service, and beer selection. Problem: I can't remember what we all ordered, since my blogging rituals have been sub-par. Epic fail on my part. I do, however, remember one of the appetizers because I've been dreaming about it ever since, so here goes: it was an entire giant clove of garlic, which had been slowly oven-roasted, served with saga bleu cheese, tomato chutney, and parmasean brioche crisps.
I think I found the answer to life's big questions in the form of slow-roasted garlic cloves and chutney. I shit you not. Check it out for yourself. You will NOT be disappointed.
Their full menu is available online at http://www.southcitygroup.net/ and I highly suggest going at least once. The price range was fair, middle-range, I'd say. This wasn't Ruth's Chris, but it certainly wasn't McDonalds either.
To anyone reading: thank you--much appreciated. This entry may be short and sweet, but I figured since I was just getting back into this, I'd start off simple, with clean lines. Next time, I'll be bold, maybe even fess up to some of my life changes! *bigger gasp!*
Until then, stay classy, Bergen County.
"I Must Be Dreaming," ~The Maine (This whole album brightens every minute of my day that's spent listening to it.)
It has been over two months since my last blog, and I think I'm ready to get back in the saddle. Much has changed in the past few months, and, in turn, this has changed a lot of my views on the (201). Not all of them...but a significant amount.
First, I must apologize to readers (if there are any), but mostly to myself, for not blogging. This was supposed to be my outlet, my place of peace and/or chaos. Instead, I made it a burden and neglected the commitment I had made to myself to blog regularly.
In plain words: I had a freak out (aka, break-up...'nuff said) and needed some time alone. I'm human. *gasp*
That being said---welcome back, self. Now back to my regularly scheduled (201)-ing.
***NEW FIND: Bistro 55, Route 17 South, Rochelle Park, NJ.***
Now, Bistro 55 may not be the newest restaurant ever, but it was new to me and I am in full-blown love with this place. From the atmosphere and service to the food and drinks, I was totally satisfied.
Bistro 55 is a free-standing building on Route 17, which I'm sure many of you have driven past at least 100 times, but never thought to try out. I was with you for a long time. I actually went because my mother had decided to have Mother's Day dinner there for herself, my grandmother, and my aunt. EUREKA!
The atmosphere is a low-lit, wood-centered, large room with a classy and modern decor. The place felt perfect for people who consider themselves young---but not that young. This would be people like myself, mid-twenties to mid-thirties...ish. The bar is front and center upon entering, and the room is flanked with groups of tables. It gives off a comfortable, private and, yet, popular vibe.
The service was impeccable. Our server, Diego, knew every detail about every item--both food and drink--on the menu, and was pleasant, helpful, and all smiles. (I give him TONS of credit for putting up with our table of 7 and everyone's constant questions and comments. My family is far from "easy," but I love them all the same.)
Their drink menu about 80% beer--celebrate!--and contains so many beers that I can rarely find anywhere else. For example, they had my favorite beer, Franziskaner, which I've only ever seen in Bottle King and at The Shepherd and the Knucklehead bar in Haledon. And since the server was so helpful, he was able to suggest a beer for my brother, who was having trouble deciding. And he loved it!
The food was as impressive as the atmosphere, service, and beer selection. Problem: I can't remember what we all ordered, since my blogging rituals have been sub-par. Epic fail on my part. I do, however, remember one of the appetizers because I've been dreaming about it ever since, so here goes: it was an entire giant clove of garlic, which had been slowly oven-roasted, served with saga bleu cheese, tomato chutney, and parmasean brioche crisps.
I think I found the answer to life's big questions in the form of slow-roasted garlic cloves and chutney. I shit you not. Check it out for yourself. You will NOT be disappointed.
Their full menu is available online at http://www.southcitygroup.net/ and I highly suggest going at least once. The price range was fair, middle-range, I'd say. This wasn't Ruth's Chris, but it certainly wasn't McDonalds either.
To anyone reading: thank you--much appreciated. This entry may be short and sweet, but I figured since I was just getting back into this, I'd start off simple, with clean lines. Next time, I'll be bold, maybe even fess up to some of my life changes! *bigger gasp!*
Until then, stay classy, Bergen County.
"I Must Be Dreaming," ~The Maine (This whole album brightens every minute of my day that's spent listening to it.)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Do Work
Current song: "How My Heart Behaves" ~Feist---beauty and art. The end.
My last post was about how stressed out we all are in the (201) and how unfair it is to be living here without being financially recognized, etc. About how I have to work two jobs and so many hours to make ends meet, leaving me virtually no time to spend with friends, family, my boyfriend. And I was thinking about it all weekend and got myself depressed. That is, until I realized that instead on focusing on what goes wrong and what makes me feel sad, I need to focus on things I am already doing and could be doing more of for myself to be happy. So, for sanity's sake, I am listing good things. Here we go:
1. Not smoking. Honestly, in all of my 13 years of being a pack-a-day-or-more smoker, I never thought I'd see the day when I could truthfully say, "I used to smoke. I quit." Unbelievable. I call this my latest and greatest achievement. It's officially been 17 days since my last cigarette--which, by the way, was a fluke. I was doing so well till I had one too many margaritas. Grr. Alas, I started quitting all over again. Three cheers for 17 days!
Now, don't get me wrong. It's not easy or fun or great in any way. I feel better--I can breathe at the top of a staircase now--and I have more confidence in myself, but it's not at all a "good" feeling. I miss cigarettes--it's like losing your best friend--and I think about them all the time. But it just makes me realize how crazy-addicted I was...and still am. All I need is one drag and I'll be right back where I started. But I'm committed to getting myself to a healthier state, and this was my first step in the right direction.
2. Eating healthy. I know everyone talks about eating healthy, yadda yadda. I was never one of those people. To be honest, I never really cared about eating healthy, just losing weight. Turns out, it's counterproductive to think that way. (Who woulda thunk?!?) But thanks to an incredible boyfriend and best friend (yes, he's one in the same), I've come to understand healthy eating a little better and the benefits it brings. It's not just about low-fat, low-calorie, low-carb. It's about all-natural, no preservatives, no chemicals--they slow you down and make losing weight and getting healthy impossible. I've been eating a lot more organic and natural things in the past few weeks, and I swear it makes a huge difference. Hooray! (Three more cheers for Bear Naked granola, organic tomatoes, and Amy's Organic products--deeeelish!)
3. Getting active. Ok, so I haven't really accomplished making this a daily habit yet, but I've started, so it counts. I FINALLY resolved my issues and fights with my last gym--Lucille Roberts Customer Service got quite an earful--and signed up for Retro Fitness. Retro fits both my budget and my schedule, since they're inexpensive ($20 a month!) and conveniently located. (Check out their Web site for more info: http://www.retrofitness.net )
I also finally bought myself a pair of real sneakers (not slip-ons or Converse) and started walking the Bergen County bike path when I have some free hours. I'm quite proud of myself for opting to NOT sit like a lump and watch TV every time. Not only is it healthier to get moving, but it's nice to have some alone time with my iPod. I've missed having quality time with my music. It's been too long.
4. Landmark. Maybe some of you know about Landmark Education. Maybe most of you don't. I didn't until Boyfriend become Boyfriend. Landmark Education is a series of programs, which they define is "Innovative programs for living an extraordinary life." I haven't participated in any of them yet, but am about to do so in a little less than two weeks. I promised Boyfriend I would attend in 2010, and after pushing it off for a couple months, I finally broke down and signed up for the Landmark Forum. I've seen the amazing and uplifting difference that these programs have made with Boyfriend, and therefore can't deny that it must do something for anyone who attends. I look forward to getting something out of it and making a difference in my own life, as well as in the life of others. (Reports and such to come...in the meantime, visit their web site and give a read! http://www.landmarkeducation.com/ )
5. Family time. Since I've moved out--five weeks and counting--I've had little time to spend with my family, especially my mom. I find that I miss her lots. I knew that this would be the case, since I love my mom to death and love spending time with her, but needed to be on my own to appreciate it more. So, every Tuesday evening has become laundry/American Idol night with my mom and step-dad...and brother, when he's home from college, occasionally. I have to say, this is something that definitely makes me happy, and I love that it does!
So, these are some BIG steps I'm taking to making my own happiness and loving my life. They may not change everything overnight, but they're certainly awesome steps in the right direction. Now for a less formal, more exciting list of things that make me incredibly happy:
1. The solace of an empty public bathroom--especially at work.
2. Getting woken up by Boyfriend before he leaves so that he can kiss me and say goodbye. <3
3. Finding hilarious names in a sea of spreadsheets at work. Example: Heather Phart (a personal favorite--but, Heather Phart, if you're reading this, you may want to consider a name change).
4. Being able to finally drive with the windows down and the music up--hooray warmer weather!
5. Laughing out loud, alone.
6. Listening to Pandora--how does it KNOW?!?!?!
7. Getting text messages. (Yes, they still make me really happy.)
8. Catching people singing out loud when they have headphones on, especially on the bike path, and especially when they're old and singing Frank Sinatra at the top of their lungs.
9. Marinos cherry Italian ice. Mmm...
10. Studying my world map shower curtain. New finding: Nevada touches California!!! I was horribly unaware.
11. A specific person's Facebook status updates. I won't mention names (it's rude), BUT this guy has the funniest Facebook updates, and he doesn't update every day, so when he does, it's a HUGE treat! Rock on, funny man. Rock. On.
12. The smell of clean laundry in the dryer.
*Drop a comment and add to the list with things that make you happy...because, really, it's the little things.*
Current song: "The Pretender"~Foo Fighters...because, really, who doesn't love the Foo Fighters?
My last post was about how stressed out we all are in the (201) and how unfair it is to be living here without being financially recognized, etc. About how I have to work two jobs and so many hours to make ends meet, leaving me virtually no time to spend with friends, family, my boyfriend. And I was thinking about it all weekend and got myself depressed. That is, until I realized that instead on focusing on what goes wrong and what makes me feel sad, I need to focus on things I am already doing and could be doing more of for myself to be happy. So, for sanity's sake, I am listing good things. Here we go:
1. Not smoking. Honestly, in all of my 13 years of being a pack-a-day-or-more smoker, I never thought I'd see the day when I could truthfully say, "I used to smoke. I quit." Unbelievable. I call this my latest and greatest achievement. It's officially been 17 days since my last cigarette--which, by the way, was a fluke. I was doing so well till I had one too many margaritas. Grr. Alas, I started quitting all over again. Three cheers for 17 days!
Now, don't get me wrong. It's not easy or fun or great in any way. I feel better--I can breathe at the top of a staircase now--and I have more confidence in myself, but it's not at all a "good" feeling. I miss cigarettes--it's like losing your best friend--and I think about them all the time. But it just makes me realize how crazy-addicted I was...and still am. All I need is one drag and I'll be right back where I started. But I'm committed to getting myself to a healthier state, and this was my first step in the right direction.
2. Eating healthy. I know everyone talks about eating healthy, yadda yadda. I was never one of those people. To be honest, I never really cared about eating healthy, just losing weight. Turns out, it's counterproductive to think that way. (Who woulda thunk?!?) But thanks to an incredible boyfriend and best friend (yes, he's one in the same), I've come to understand healthy eating a little better and the benefits it brings. It's not just about low-fat, low-calorie, low-carb. It's about all-natural, no preservatives, no chemicals--they slow you down and make losing weight and getting healthy impossible. I've been eating a lot more organic and natural things in the past few weeks, and I swear it makes a huge difference. Hooray! (Three more cheers for Bear Naked granola, organic tomatoes, and Amy's Organic products--deeeelish!)
3. Getting active. Ok, so I haven't really accomplished making this a daily habit yet, but I've started, so it counts. I FINALLY resolved my issues and fights with my last gym--Lucille Roberts Customer Service got quite an earful--and signed up for Retro Fitness. Retro fits both my budget and my schedule, since they're inexpensive ($20 a month!) and conveniently located. (Check out their Web site for more info: http://www.retrofitness.net )
I also finally bought myself a pair of real sneakers (not slip-ons or Converse) and started walking the Bergen County bike path when I have some free hours. I'm quite proud of myself for opting to NOT sit like a lump and watch TV every time. Not only is it healthier to get moving, but it's nice to have some alone time with my iPod. I've missed having quality time with my music. It's been too long.
4. Landmark. Maybe some of you know about Landmark Education. Maybe most of you don't. I didn't until Boyfriend become Boyfriend. Landmark Education is a series of programs, which they define is "Innovative programs for living an extraordinary life." I haven't participated in any of them yet, but am about to do so in a little less than two weeks. I promised Boyfriend I would attend in 2010, and after pushing it off for a couple months, I finally broke down and signed up for the Landmark Forum. I've seen the amazing and uplifting difference that these programs have made with Boyfriend, and therefore can't deny that it must do something for anyone who attends. I look forward to getting something out of it and making a difference in my own life, as well as in the life of others. (Reports and such to come...in the meantime, visit their web site and give a read! http://www.landmarkeducation.com/ )
5. Family time. Since I've moved out--five weeks and counting--I've had little time to spend with my family, especially my mom. I find that I miss her lots. I knew that this would be the case, since I love my mom to death and love spending time with her, but needed to be on my own to appreciate it more. So, every Tuesday evening has become laundry/American Idol night with my mom and step-dad...and brother, when he's home from college, occasionally. I have to say, this is something that definitely makes me happy, and I love that it does!
So, these are some BIG steps I'm taking to making my own happiness and loving my life. They may not change everything overnight, but they're certainly awesome steps in the right direction. Now for a less formal, more exciting list of things that make me incredibly happy:
1. The solace of an empty public bathroom--especially at work.
2. Getting woken up by Boyfriend before he leaves so that he can kiss me and say goodbye. <3
3. Finding hilarious names in a sea of spreadsheets at work. Example: Heather Phart (a personal favorite--but, Heather Phart, if you're reading this, you may want to consider a name change).
4. Being able to finally drive with the windows down and the music up--hooray warmer weather!
5. Laughing out loud, alone.
6. Listening to Pandora--how does it KNOW?!?!?!
7. Getting text messages. (Yes, they still make me really happy.)
8. Catching people singing out loud when they have headphones on, especially on the bike path, and especially when they're old and singing Frank Sinatra at the top of their lungs.
9. Marinos cherry Italian ice. Mmm...
10. Studying my world map shower curtain. New finding: Nevada touches California!!! I was horribly unaware.
11. A specific person's Facebook status updates. I won't mention names (it's rude), BUT this guy has the funniest Facebook updates, and he doesn't update every day, so when he does, it's a HUGE treat! Rock on, funny man. Rock. On.
12. The smell of clean laundry in the dryer.
*Drop a comment and add to the list with things that make you happy...because, really, it's the little things.*
Current song: "The Pretender"~Foo Fighters...because, really, who doesn't love the Foo Fighters?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Poor Little Rich Kids
Current song: "Better" ~Regina Spektor (the live version...thank you, Pandora.)
So it's been awhile. I'm still getting used to this whole 'remembering to blog regularly' thing. I'm still getting used to remembering to do quite a few things that need to get done now that I'm living alone and can't rely on anyone else to do them--like remembering it was toilet paper I went to Shop Rite for, not the distracting, addicting on-sale items. I am such an impulse buyer. Shoot.
Needless to say, my forgetfulness got me thinking. Why is it that living in Bergen County makes us all a little bit more stressed and crazed than the rest of the country seems to be? Really, there's only one true answer. The cost of living here is excruciating. And what's worse? It goes completely unnoticed.
Example/Reality Check: This past weekend was my little brother's 21st birthday, and like any awesome older sister would do, I went up to his college in East Stroudsburg, PA to celebrate with him and his friends. I had at least $200 in cash on me (and my cards, of course, just in case), taking into consideration cover charges of bars and clubs, a few drinks for myself, buying a few rounds for my brother, and the ever-popular "let's eat pizza at 3am because we're all starved from drunkenly dancing for three hours" pay-out. I spent under $100 on everything, including dinner before we went out. WHAT? Is Pennsylvania the discount state, or are we just being horribly ripped off here at home? This was the beginning of my mental investigation.
Now, before I continue what may come off as a rant, I want to be straight. I understand that Bergen County is a "desirable place to live" and, therefore, more expensive. I also understand that the more desirable and expensive a place is to live, the wealthier the people that live there are, and the higher the prices are driven because they can be afforded. I understand all of it. And I understand that I CHOOSE to live here and can leave whenever I want; however, as is the same with most of us who currently reside in the (201), this is my home. I was born and raised here. My friends and family are here. My job is here. My life is here...and I can barely afford it.
If you're from the (201), then you know that when you meet an outsider (especially from another state), they automatically assume you're rich because you're from Bergen County. Technically, this is true for everyone that lives here. Here's why: "The median income per household member [in the United States]...was $26,036 in 2006." (Wikipedia) On the flip side: "The median income for a family [in Bergen County, NJ] was $78,079. (These figures had risen to $96,589 as of a 2007 estimate)." (Wikipedia) Holy crap...we ARE rich. Yes, but not really.
While we do make a substantially larger amount of money than the rest of the country, we also pay a substantially larger amount for everything we need. (Except gas. NJ for the win on that one.) Food, clothing, homes, cars, crossing the bridge to NYC (which, by the way, was supposed to STOP years ago, not continue to increase...greedy New Yorkers)--everything. And it seems no one takes this into account. Percentagewise, we make and spend the same as everyone else. The numbers are just bigger coming in and going out. Feh.
If I were politically savvy (which I am far from), I would figure out a way to bring this to the government's attention, especially at those odd times when they decide to try to jump start the economy with a stimulus check. Did ANYONE in Bergen County even get one? Most of the people I know didn't qualify because they "made too much money." The government only gave money to those who made under a certain amount (I want to say $75,000/year or so) and most people who live here and own homes and have lives need to make more than that just for upkeep. The (201)ers who make just above that number are in the same spot as the people making $35,000/year in Wisconsin. Only it looks way worse on paper for them. (But I bet they don't pay $15 for a martini in Wisconsin or $35 for a turkey.)
I'm just sayin'...someone should consider all this. Right? Yes.
Just to support my one, singular self in the (201), I work a regular full time job like everyone else. Monday through Friday, 8:30am-5pm. And, like most people (especially us 20- and 30-somethings), that one job just doesn't cut it. To pay the rest of the bills and feed myself, I work a part-time job at a restaurant. Yay for cash! Boo to the really long days when I work one job after another. I did what everyone else did. I went to college, got my degree, started working right away, and what I'm being paid is fair...in a national kind of way. In a (201) kind of way, I'm poor. This, to me, is sad. Shame on you, Bergen County, for being so wonderful and so difficult all at the same time. Shame.
I get it. If one wants to continue living here and keep up the lifestyle their used to, one must bust their ass extra hard to pull it all together. And keep it all together. "Life is tough--get a helmet."
Then again, maybe we're all just whiny rich kids who will never get it.
Current song: "Still The Same" ~Bob Seger. I love this man's voice.
So it's been awhile. I'm still getting used to this whole 'remembering to blog regularly' thing. I'm still getting used to remembering to do quite a few things that need to get done now that I'm living alone and can't rely on anyone else to do them--like remembering it was toilet paper I went to Shop Rite for, not the distracting, addicting on-sale items. I am such an impulse buyer. Shoot.
Needless to say, my forgetfulness got me thinking. Why is it that living in Bergen County makes us all a little bit more stressed and crazed than the rest of the country seems to be? Really, there's only one true answer. The cost of living here is excruciating. And what's worse? It goes completely unnoticed.
Example/Reality Check: This past weekend was my little brother's 21st birthday, and like any awesome older sister would do, I went up to his college in East Stroudsburg, PA to celebrate with him and his friends. I had at least $200 in cash on me (and my cards, of course, just in case), taking into consideration cover charges of bars and clubs, a few drinks for myself, buying a few rounds for my brother, and the ever-popular "let's eat pizza at 3am because we're all starved from drunkenly dancing for three hours" pay-out. I spent under $100 on everything, including dinner before we went out. WHAT? Is Pennsylvania the discount state, or are we just being horribly ripped off here at home? This was the beginning of my mental investigation.
Now, before I continue what may come off as a rant, I want to be straight. I understand that Bergen County is a "desirable place to live" and, therefore, more expensive. I also understand that the more desirable and expensive a place is to live, the wealthier the people that live there are, and the higher the prices are driven because they can be afforded. I understand all of it. And I understand that I CHOOSE to live here and can leave whenever I want; however, as is the same with most of us who currently reside in the (201), this is my home. I was born and raised here. My friends and family are here. My job is here. My life is here...and I can barely afford it.
If you're from the (201), then you know that when you meet an outsider (especially from another state), they automatically assume you're rich because you're from Bergen County. Technically, this is true for everyone that lives here. Here's why: "The median income per household member [in the United States]...was $26,036 in 2006." (Wikipedia) On the flip side: "The median income for a family [in Bergen County, NJ] was $78,079. (These figures had risen to $96,589 as of a 2007 estimate)." (Wikipedia) Holy crap...we ARE rich. Yes, but not really.
While we do make a substantially larger amount of money than the rest of the country, we also pay a substantially larger amount for everything we need. (Except gas. NJ for the win on that one.) Food, clothing, homes, cars, crossing the bridge to NYC (which, by the way, was supposed to STOP years ago, not continue to increase...greedy New Yorkers)--everything. And it seems no one takes this into account. Percentagewise, we make and spend the same as everyone else. The numbers are just bigger coming in and going out. Feh.
If I were politically savvy (which I am far from), I would figure out a way to bring this to the government's attention, especially at those odd times when they decide to try to jump start the economy with a stimulus check. Did ANYONE in Bergen County even get one? Most of the people I know didn't qualify because they "made too much money." The government only gave money to those who made under a certain amount (I want to say $75,000/year or so) and most people who live here and own homes and have lives need to make more than that just for upkeep. The (201)ers who make just above that number are in the same spot as the people making $35,000/year in Wisconsin. Only it looks way worse on paper for them. (But I bet they don't pay $15 for a martini in Wisconsin or $35 for a turkey.)
I'm just sayin'...someone should consider all this. Right? Yes.
Just to support my one, singular self in the (201), I work a regular full time job like everyone else. Monday through Friday, 8:30am-5pm. And, like most people (especially us 20- and 30-somethings), that one job just doesn't cut it. To pay the rest of the bills and feed myself, I work a part-time job at a restaurant. Yay for cash! Boo to the really long days when I work one job after another. I did what everyone else did. I went to college, got my degree, started working right away, and what I'm being paid is fair...in a national kind of way. In a (201) kind of way, I'm poor. This, to me, is sad. Shame on you, Bergen County, for being so wonderful and so difficult all at the same time. Shame.
I get it. If one wants to continue living here and keep up the lifestyle their used to, one must bust their ass extra hard to pull it all together. And keep it all together. "Life is tough--get a helmet."
Then again, maybe we're all just whiny rich kids who will never get it.
Current song: "Still The Same" ~Bob Seger. I love this man's voice.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Thing About Facebook...
Current Song: "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" ~Billy Joel. 'Nuff said.
We all have a Facebook. Everyone's is different, and everyone is different about how they utilize their page, but we all have one and we know how it works and how it works for/against us.
Initial Disclaimer: I am a huge Facebook fan and am on logged on every day (thank you, boring job!). That said, it does have it's ups and downs. That's what we're (I'm) discussing here.
Facebook has become the best and worst thing to happen to us as a society. I'm sure that can be said about a million other things as well, but for all intents an purposes, I'm using Facebook. Let it go. I'll start with the positives since that's always a nice way to begin a criticism of any kind--point out what's RIGHT before pointing out what's horribly, horribly wrong.
First and foremost, Facebook provides all of us with an endless opportunity to connect and reconnect with the people that have left a mark on our lives, for better or for worse. It's a chance to see where your childhood friends have moved to, who's married, who has children, who has had some great successes in their lives, etc. And, on the other side of things, it allows YOU to share your best moments, your children, your marriage, your successes with the people of your choice. From kids you went to nursery school with to old college roommates, Facebook has provided us all with a way to reconnect with our past and to link it to our present and future.
In some cases, Facebook has helped in searches for people. (I feel an example coming on!) My mom grew up in NYC and moved to the (201) when she was about 12. She has been searching for one of her old NYC friends/classmates for years and, until Facebook, was unsuccessful. Now, through the magic of Facebook and the ability to filter via maiden names and networks (i.e. Northern New Jersey, etc.), my mom found her friend, reconnected with her, and has a good 40 years to catch up on--and is endlessly happy to do so.
So, Facebook certainly has it success stories--thousands, at the very least, I'm sure--and is creating some real positivity and happiness in the world. This is my #1 reason for being in love with Facebook.
And, in addition to said reason, I also love posting pictures of my life, seeing pictures of old friends or friends who live too far away to see in person regularly, watching the kids I used to babysit become miniature adults, keeping up with family members who live hundreds of miles away, commenting on statuses I love, reading the comments that people who love me write, etc. It's certainly motivating when the first thing you read in the morning is a thoughtful, funny, loving, or sweet comment from someone you love posted on your wall. People love you and want the whole world to know it. And that's, well...awesome. And I feel strongly about telling the people who I love that I love them all the time, whether intimately in person or publicly on Facebook. (In some cases, I would hire a skywriter if I could, but you get the point. "Shout it from the rooftops," an so on.)
As for the down sides, and there are many, I'll start with paranoia. I'm convinced that Facebook has made me--if not all of us--a little more paranoid. "What did she mean by that 'lol' she posted on my status? I was serious about wanting to save the rain forest! How rude!" Or, "I can't believe he hasn't commented on what I posted on his wall. It's been a whole day!" Or, "I called Amy last night around 11, and she didn't answer, so I figured she was asleep. But then I saw she updated her status at midnight--is she avoiding my calls? She hates me, doesn't she?" Or, "I think Bob's mad at me...he didn't post a reaction to my comment." Crazy? Yes. True? Absolutely.
Facebook has made me question people's motives, become weary of people's reactions to my life, become weary of other people comments and "like"s. It's made me jealous of the people who are more successful than I am. It's made me jealous of women who write on my boyfriend's wall--I find that I am only jealous on Facebook and not in real life, which is a little scary. It's made me sad about people who look better than I do in their pictures and angry about people who don't comment on the pictures I post. Facebook drums up a whirlwind of emotions, especially when you become heavily (and pointlessly) invested.
And then, of course, there's the aftermath of the whirlwind. When the dust settles and you log off and you check back in to real life, when you realize that some of the assumptions you made or conclusions you came to via Facebook research (also known as stalking) are totally incorrect and way off mark, you get to feel slightly (if not entirely) stupid. Best example which happened just this second: I got a text from my boyfriend. Knowing now that he is awake, I run out the back door of my office to call him since we didn't get to talk last night. He doesn't answer and I get to feeling a little...bothered. "How is it that he just texted me from his phone--so it's near him--but can't answer a phone call?" I say to myself on the long walk back to my desk. "This sucks." I sit down at my work computer, click back into my Facebook homepage, and see his latest status update from 20 minutes ago pop up on my news feed. "Funeral." Crap. He's at a funeral and I got mad that he didn't pick up his phone. "What an ass I am."
*Note: On the flip side of this, if I had bothered to look at his Facebook page BEFORE I made the phone call, I would have seen the update, not called, and not have put myself through this ordeal. Facebook: Friend or Foe. You be the judge.*
So, you see, Facebook certainly has it's down side. Most certainly.
Currently, I am trying to commit to being less dependent on Facebook and what it stands for. It's definitely difficult, and it takes something to not let it get into your head and manipulate your thoughts. But I am trying to log in with a more leveled head. It may take me awhile to get used to doing so, however. And maybe I sound a bit crazy for being this "addicted" to Facebook and the meanings behind it, but sharing certain things--my accomplishments, being in love, great pictures, awesome moments--with the world makes me happy and is still important to me. That I can't detract from.
In some ACTUAL (201) news: I have just been made aware the the Garden State Plaza has opened up a Gucci boutique. O happy day!!! (Even though I can only afford to window shop.) The GSP becomes a little more like Manhattan every month, and this makes me smile..if only for the sheer fact that we don't pay tax on clothing here in the good old NJ! Heaven smiles on Bergen County...
And so the weekend (almost) begins, which will consist of running to my second job after my first (restaurant reviews of my own place of employment coming soon), visiting Grandma, hopefully spending some time relaxing with my boyfriend and finally seeing "Valentine's Day," and more work. One day I'll actually have my apartment set up...
Current song: "Change The World" ~Eric Clapton. Pure genius.
We all have a Facebook. Everyone's is different, and everyone is different about how they utilize their page, but we all have one and we know how it works and how it works for/against us.
Initial Disclaimer: I am a huge Facebook fan and am on logged on every day (thank you, boring job!). That said, it does have it's ups and downs. That's what we're (I'm) discussing here.
Facebook has become the best and worst thing to happen to us as a society. I'm sure that can be said about a million other things as well, but for all intents an purposes, I'm using Facebook. Let it go. I'll start with the positives since that's always a nice way to begin a criticism of any kind--point out what's RIGHT before pointing out what's horribly, horribly wrong.
First and foremost, Facebook provides all of us with an endless opportunity to connect and reconnect with the people that have left a mark on our lives, for better or for worse. It's a chance to see where your childhood friends have moved to, who's married, who has children, who has had some great successes in their lives, etc. And, on the other side of things, it allows YOU to share your best moments, your children, your marriage, your successes with the people of your choice. From kids you went to nursery school with to old college roommates, Facebook has provided us all with a way to reconnect with our past and to link it to our present and future.
In some cases, Facebook has helped in searches for people. (I feel an example coming on!) My mom grew up in NYC and moved to the (201) when she was about 12. She has been searching for one of her old NYC friends/classmates for years and, until Facebook, was unsuccessful. Now, through the magic of Facebook and the ability to filter via maiden names and networks (i.e. Northern New Jersey, etc.), my mom found her friend, reconnected with her, and has a good 40 years to catch up on--and is endlessly happy to do so.
So, Facebook certainly has it success stories--thousands, at the very least, I'm sure--and is creating some real positivity and happiness in the world. This is my #1 reason for being in love with Facebook.
And, in addition to said reason, I also love posting pictures of my life, seeing pictures of old friends or friends who live too far away to see in person regularly, watching the kids I used to babysit become miniature adults, keeping up with family members who live hundreds of miles away, commenting on statuses I love, reading the comments that people who love me write, etc. It's certainly motivating when the first thing you read in the morning is a thoughtful, funny, loving, or sweet comment from someone you love posted on your wall. People love you and want the whole world to know it. And that's, well...awesome. And I feel strongly about telling the people who I love that I love them all the time, whether intimately in person or publicly on Facebook. (In some cases, I would hire a skywriter if I could, but you get the point. "Shout it from the rooftops," an so on.)
As for the down sides, and there are many, I'll start with paranoia. I'm convinced that Facebook has made me--if not all of us--a little more paranoid. "What did she mean by that 'lol' she posted on my status? I was serious about wanting to save the rain forest! How rude!" Or, "I can't believe he hasn't commented on what I posted on his wall. It's been a whole day!" Or, "I called Amy last night around 11, and she didn't answer, so I figured she was asleep. But then I saw she updated her status at midnight--is she avoiding my calls? She hates me, doesn't she?" Or, "I think Bob's mad at me...he didn't post a reaction to my comment." Crazy? Yes. True? Absolutely.
Facebook has made me question people's motives, become weary of people's reactions to my life, become weary of other people comments and "like"s. It's made me jealous of the people who are more successful than I am. It's made me jealous of women who write on my boyfriend's wall--I find that I am only jealous on Facebook and not in real life, which is a little scary. It's made me sad about people who look better than I do in their pictures and angry about people who don't comment on the pictures I post. Facebook drums up a whirlwind of emotions, especially when you become heavily (and pointlessly) invested.
And then, of course, there's the aftermath of the whirlwind. When the dust settles and you log off and you check back in to real life, when you realize that some of the assumptions you made or conclusions you came to via Facebook research (also known as stalking) are totally incorrect and way off mark, you get to feel slightly (if not entirely) stupid. Best example which happened just this second: I got a text from my boyfriend. Knowing now that he is awake, I run out the back door of my office to call him since we didn't get to talk last night. He doesn't answer and I get to feeling a little...bothered. "How is it that he just texted me from his phone--so it's near him--but can't answer a phone call?" I say to myself on the long walk back to my desk. "This sucks." I sit down at my work computer, click back into my Facebook homepage, and see his latest status update from 20 minutes ago pop up on my news feed. "Funeral." Crap. He's at a funeral and I got mad that he didn't pick up his phone. "What an ass I am."
*Note: On the flip side of this, if I had bothered to look at his Facebook page BEFORE I made the phone call, I would have seen the update, not called, and not have put myself through this ordeal. Facebook: Friend or Foe. You be the judge.*
So, you see, Facebook certainly has it's down side. Most certainly.
Currently, I am trying to commit to being less dependent on Facebook and what it stands for. It's definitely difficult, and it takes something to not let it get into your head and manipulate your thoughts. But I am trying to log in with a more leveled head. It may take me awhile to get used to doing so, however. And maybe I sound a bit crazy for being this "addicted" to Facebook and the meanings behind it, but sharing certain things--my accomplishments, being in love, great pictures, awesome moments--with the world makes me happy and is still important to me. That I can't detract from.
In some ACTUAL (201) news: I have just been made aware the the Garden State Plaza has opened up a Gucci boutique. O happy day!!! (Even though I can only afford to window shop.) The GSP becomes a little more like Manhattan every month, and this makes me smile..if only for the sheer fact that we don't pay tax on clothing here in the good old NJ! Heaven smiles on Bergen County...
And so the weekend (almost) begins, which will consist of running to my second job after my first (restaurant reviews of my own place of employment coming soon), visiting Grandma, hopefully spending some time relaxing with my boyfriend and finally seeing "Valentine's Day," and more work. One day I'll actually have my apartment set up...
Current song: "Change The World" ~Eric Clapton. Pure genius.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Cancer Sucks
Current song: "Whataya Want From Me" ~Adam Lambert (This man is incredible.)
Cancer DOES suck. I think it's pretty unanimous. I don't think I know anyone who's a fan.
But I'd still like to vent about it anyway.
A couple of weeks ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. (That would be the lining of the uterus, for those who are unfamiliar.) And I am a bit of a mess.
Despite the high risk of cancer in our society, especially in the northeast (thank you, modern industry), my family has never had a history of cancer--that we know of. My grandfather is the sole Holocaust survivor in his family and doesn't know much about his family medical history. Other than that, my family (both sides) have always been cancer-free. (And, ironically, ALL smokers. Go figure that one out. Note: I am not saying that smoking is OK, I'm just sayin'...it's weird.)
That is, until a couple years ago. My grandfather on my father's side was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was contained and removed in one shot. Things went smoothly and he is fully healthy today and kickin' at 88 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side, at 72, is not so lucky.
Since the cancer is inside of her uterus, the doctors recommended an immediate hysterectomy. We all agreed that this was the most logical decision and went ahead with it. The surgery happened yesterday morning and the procedure went well. However, after they removed the uterus, they found that the cancer had spread to her stomach, bowels, and fat. They removed what they could, but it was impossible to get it all. Now she will have to go through at least six months of chemotherapy to try and get rid of the rest. The doctor said "she has a good chance." Thanks, Doc.
My grandmother is no spring chicken; however, to be 72 and the grandmother of eight grandchildren, the oldest being in her mid-twenties, she's pretty young. She's also the sole caretaker of her husband, my grandfather, who is almost 11 years her senior and in poor physical health.
She is the matriarch. She is everything. And now she's giving up on herself.
I feel useless.
"I should have become an oncologist."
"I should have convinced her to quit smoking."
"I should have visited her every single day."
"I should have told her I loved her every other minute."
"I should have taken her to the casino like she wanted."
"I should have been better."
"I should have...but I didn't."
This isn't about me. This isn't about anyone else in my family who will be dealing with this and scrambling to take care of both of my grandparents. This isn't about G-d or faith or hope. This isn't about selfishness or selflessness. This isn't about money or schedules or time.
This is about my grandmother and her sense of self-worth. This is about her.
I am committed to figuring out a way to help her believe in herself, to help her realize what she means to all of us. Without her, my family will be half of what it once was because she is such a powerful force within it.
I am also committed to being a support for a family that tends to panic when someone has a cold, much less cancer. I am committed to being a support and a major player in the months to come. I am committed to doing anything I have to in order to take care--I just don't know how I'll look at the end of it all.
I am lucky enough to have a wonderful man in my life who is, above everything, supportive of me and everything I do. A man who loves me through and despite everything. And I am so much more than grateful. And although he's an incredibly strong person, I'm worried that I might pull him down with me if I start to fall.
Falling down is not an option right now. This is not about me and I need to remind myself of that every now and again.
To everyone out there living with cancer and/or a family member with cancer: just remember that love saves lives.
Current song: "Music Again" ~Adam Lambert (Uplifting? Check.)
Cancer DOES suck. I think it's pretty unanimous. I don't think I know anyone who's a fan.
But I'd still like to vent about it anyway.
A couple of weeks ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. (That would be the lining of the uterus, for those who are unfamiliar.) And I am a bit of a mess.
Despite the high risk of cancer in our society, especially in the northeast (thank you, modern industry), my family has never had a history of cancer--that we know of. My grandfather is the sole Holocaust survivor in his family and doesn't know much about his family medical history. Other than that, my family (both sides) have always been cancer-free. (And, ironically, ALL smokers. Go figure that one out. Note: I am not saying that smoking is OK, I'm just sayin'...it's weird.)
That is, until a couple years ago. My grandfather on my father's side was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was contained and removed in one shot. Things went smoothly and he is fully healthy today and kickin' at 88 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side, at 72, is not so lucky.
Since the cancer is inside of her uterus, the doctors recommended an immediate hysterectomy. We all agreed that this was the most logical decision and went ahead with it. The surgery happened yesterday morning and the procedure went well. However, after they removed the uterus, they found that the cancer had spread to her stomach, bowels, and fat. They removed what they could, but it was impossible to get it all. Now she will have to go through at least six months of chemotherapy to try and get rid of the rest. The doctor said "she has a good chance." Thanks, Doc.
My grandmother is no spring chicken; however, to be 72 and the grandmother of eight grandchildren, the oldest being in her mid-twenties, she's pretty young. She's also the sole caretaker of her husband, my grandfather, who is almost 11 years her senior and in poor physical health.
She is the matriarch. She is everything. And now she's giving up on herself.
I feel useless.
"I should have become an oncologist."
"I should have convinced her to quit smoking."
"I should have visited her every single day."
"I should have told her I loved her every other minute."
"I should have taken her to the casino like she wanted."
"I should have been better."
"I should have...but I didn't."
This isn't about me. This isn't about anyone else in my family who will be dealing with this and scrambling to take care of both of my grandparents. This isn't about G-d or faith or hope. This isn't about selfishness or selflessness. This isn't about money or schedules or time.
This is about my grandmother and her sense of self-worth. This is about her.
I am committed to figuring out a way to help her believe in herself, to help her realize what she means to all of us. Without her, my family will be half of what it once was because she is such a powerful force within it.
I am also committed to being a support for a family that tends to panic when someone has a cold, much less cancer. I am committed to being a support and a major player in the months to come. I am committed to doing anything I have to in order to take care--I just don't know how I'll look at the end of it all.
I am lucky enough to have a wonderful man in my life who is, above everything, supportive of me and everything I do. A man who loves me through and despite everything. And I am so much more than grateful. And although he's an incredibly strong person, I'm worried that I might pull him down with me if I start to fall.
Falling down is not an option right now. This is not about me and I need to remind myself of that every now and again.
To everyone out there living with cancer and/or a family member with cancer: just remember that love saves lives.
Current song: "Music Again" ~Adam Lambert (Uplifting? Check.)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Anti-Vacation Day
Current song: "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" ~Led Zeppelin (An old favorite that never gets tiring.)
So, here I sit, all broken-hearted...at my office. In the middle of the snowstorm of the century. I've been thinking about the workforce and the non implementation of snow days. And I've been thinking hard. *ouch*
As kids, snow days were what we all looked forward to. Nothing was better than being told by a parent (or guardian--must remain PC) to go back to bed because school was canceled. Which, of course, meant that you would not, by any means, be going back to bed. It meant, instead, that you would run to the nearest window, make sure there was enough snow on the ground, and start planning your snow-day activities.
I remember having several pairs of those awful snowsuits between my brother and I. The puffy kind with the suspender straps that you would put on over your thermals and under your oversized snow coat. The kind that came in lime-green or neon-orange. The kind you didn't want your friends to see you in...unless it was a snow day and they were wearing theirs too. My parents would spend close to an hour helping us to get into our snow suits, bundle up with gloves and hats and scarves, and reminding us to "be careful" and to play, but "not for too long. You'll get sick!" Then the snow day would officially commence.
Ahh, the pleasures of being a child. The joy in getting all of your clothes soaking wet and having someone else peel them off for you to be put into the dryer. The excitement of hearing "school's canceled" and playing video games in your pajamas all morning. And the older you get, the more resentful toward snow you become.
Today, in the midst of this relentless blizzard, I sit at my desk in my office. Today, an office that is usually filled with at least 120 people contains maybe 20. I, of course, am one of the lucky (stupid?) few who decided to show up. My reasoning? Vacation preservation.
This, to me, is a sad state of affairs. That people, myself included, are not only willing, but desperate to risk their safety in order to preserve the few sick/personal/vacation days they are allotted a year. That we are determined to get to work, and stay there, in order to get our fair pay in the worst of weather conditions.
"Dear Corporate America,
Thank you for encouraging us all to risk our lives on a regular basis.
Sincerely,
Marissa (and the rest of the nation)"
"So why," someone might ask me, "would you go to work, even when you have vacation days to use? Why go to work just to complain about going to work when you can take the day off and still get paid?" Why? Principle. Well, principle and (I repeat) vacation preservation.
As far as I'm concerned, vacation and personal days are just that. Days to be used for either vacations or personal reason. Snow is neither a vacation nor a personal matter for me. This is New Jersey. Snow happens. And I would like to retain the few days I have a year for something that I want to do, not have to do.
My company allots days as follows: An employee receives ONE personal/sick day (they do not distinguish between the two) for every two months they work. For example, an employee will receive ONE personal day after working January and February, ONE for working March and April, and so on. Six personal days, total, a year. And they do not roll over to the following year, so they'd better be used up by New Years! I, unfortunately, was sick not too long ago, and I had to use my ONE Jan/Feb day. Therefore, I am officially out of personal days until March. So, that's that. Boo, hiss.
I do, however, still have vacation days. In fact, I have 10. My company gave me two weeks vacation time for 2010. Sounds fair, right? Ehh. Maybe, maybe not. I worked here for six months before being given any time off.
Short story: I started at this company at the beginning of July. I had no vacation time at all for 2009, and between July and December I acquired three personal days, one of which had to be used for Yom Kippur, the holiest Jewish holiday, which we do not get off for. (This company, by the way, is owned and operated by orthodox Jews. Most of the employees are Jewish, myself included. Most normal companies give off for Yom Kippur, regardless. As you can see, this is not a normal company to work for.) So, between July and December I had two personal days to use at my discretion. One was used to be sick (not so much fun) and the other I saved in order to take off on New Years Eve. Big thrill.
So, to answer the much earlier asked question that I addressed to myself, I work during horrible weather so that I can use the very few days I am allotted for myself. For a vacation. Not for a snow day.
I vote that companies be run more like school districts. If the weather is terrible and the safety of the employee is risked by coming into work, a company should be closed for the day. Or have a "delayed opening." Or close early. Whichever. Why should schools close when companies don't? Many people in the workforce have children in school and are even more set back when school is canceled but work is not. They are either forced to use a personal day (if they have any), forced to take a pay dock, forced to pay a babysitter, or--gasp!--forced to leave their children home alone. I don't have children, but when I do, I suspect I'll be even more irritated by this snow situation.
Make work more like school. I'm just sayin'...it would be nice. And fair. And nice.
Completely unrelated side note: bananas do NOT keep well. I threw out an entire bushel (and peck) or bananas last night, for they had become banana puree in skins. It was revolting.
Another completely unrelated side note: Valentine's Day is coming up! I have plans--good ones!--but can't write them out until after they've happened. My boyfriends supposedly reads my blog. We shall see...
Current song: "I Can't Dance" ~Genesis. (I'm much more of a Peter Gabriel fan myself, but I give Phil Collins props for this song. It's catchy as hell.)
So, here I sit, all broken-hearted...at my office. In the middle of the snowstorm of the century. I've been thinking about the workforce and the non implementation of snow days. And I've been thinking hard. *ouch*
As kids, snow days were what we all looked forward to. Nothing was better than being told by a parent (or guardian--must remain PC) to go back to bed because school was canceled. Which, of course, meant that you would not, by any means, be going back to bed. It meant, instead, that you would run to the nearest window, make sure there was enough snow on the ground, and start planning your snow-day activities.
I remember having several pairs of those awful snowsuits between my brother and I. The puffy kind with the suspender straps that you would put on over your thermals and under your oversized snow coat. The kind that came in lime-green or neon-orange. The kind you didn't want your friends to see you in...unless it was a snow day and they were wearing theirs too. My parents would spend close to an hour helping us to get into our snow suits, bundle up with gloves and hats and scarves, and reminding us to "be careful" and to play, but "not for too long. You'll get sick!" Then the snow day would officially commence.
Ahh, the pleasures of being a child. The joy in getting all of your clothes soaking wet and having someone else peel them off for you to be put into the dryer. The excitement of hearing "school's canceled" and playing video games in your pajamas all morning. And the older you get, the more resentful toward snow you become.
Today, in the midst of this relentless blizzard, I sit at my desk in my office. Today, an office that is usually filled with at least 120 people contains maybe 20. I, of course, am one of the lucky (stupid?) few who decided to show up. My reasoning? Vacation preservation.
This, to me, is a sad state of affairs. That people, myself included, are not only willing, but desperate to risk their safety in order to preserve the few sick/personal/vacation days they are allotted a year. That we are determined to get to work, and stay there, in order to get our fair pay in the worst of weather conditions.
"Dear Corporate America,
Thank you for encouraging us all to risk our lives on a regular basis.
Sincerely,
Marissa (and the rest of the nation)"
"So why," someone might ask me, "would you go to work, even when you have vacation days to use? Why go to work just to complain about going to work when you can take the day off and still get paid?" Why? Principle. Well, principle and (I repeat) vacation preservation.
As far as I'm concerned, vacation and personal days are just that. Days to be used for either vacations or personal reason. Snow is neither a vacation nor a personal matter for me. This is New Jersey. Snow happens. And I would like to retain the few days I have a year for something that I want to do, not have to do.
My company allots days as follows: An employee receives ONE personal/sick day (they do not distinguish between the two) for every two months they work. For example, an employee will receive ONE personal day after working January and February, ONE for working March and April, and so on. Six personal days, total, a year. And they do not roll over to the following year, so they'd better be used up by New Years! I, unfortunately, was sick not too long ago, and I had to use my ONE Jan/Feb day. Therefore, I am officially out of personal days until March. So, that's that. Boo, hiss.
I do, however, still have vacation days. In fact, I have 10. My company gave me two weeks vacation time for 2010. Sounds fair, right? Ehh. Maybe, maybe not. I worked here for six months before being given any time off.
Short story: I started at this company at the beginning of July. I had no vacation time at all for 2009, and between July and December I acquired three personal days, one of which had to be used for Yom Kippur, the holiest Jewish holiday, which we do not get off for. (This company, by the way, is owned and operated by orthodox Jews. Most of the employees are Jewish, myself included. Most normal companies give off for Yom Kippur, regardless. As you can see, this is not a normal company to work for.) So, between July and December I had two personal days to use at my discretion. One was used to be sick (not so much fun) and the other I saved in order to take off on New Years Eve. Big thrill.
So, to answer the much earlier asked question that I addressed to myself, I work during horrible weather so that I can use the very few days I am allotted for myself. For a vacation. Not for a snow day.
I vote that companies be run more like school districts. If the weather is terrible and the safety of the employee is risked by coming into work, a company should be closed for the day. Or have a "delayed opening." Or close early. Whichever. Why should schools close when companies don't? Many people in the workforce have children in school and are even more set back when school is canceled but work is not. They are either forced to use a personal day (if they have any), forced to take a pay dock, forced to pay a babysitter, or--gasp!--forced to leave their children home alone. I don't have children, but when I do, I suspect I'll be even more irritated by this snow situation.
Make work more like school. I'm just sayin'...it would be nice. And fair. And nice.
Completely unrelated side note: bananas do NOT keep well. I threw out an entire bushel (and peck) or bananas last night, for they had become banana puree in skins. It was revolting.
Another completely unrelated side note: Valentine's Day is coming up! I have plans--good ones!--but can't write them out until after they've happened. My boyfriends supposedly reads my blog. We shall see...
Current song: "I Can't Dance" ~Genesis. (I'm much more of a Peter Gabriel fan myself, but I give Phil Collins props for this song. It's catchy as hell.)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Stunt Doubling Burritos
Current song: "The Voice Within" ~Christina Aguilera (one of the loves of my life.)
Every day blogging is still difficult, having no computer at home to work on and all. Also, trying to blog at work is more difficult than cleaning a bathtub. (Another little tidbit I learned this week. Boo to stubborn bathtub rings.)
But enough about bathtubs. What this is really about is burritos. Burritos and all other delightfully delicious Mexican foodstuffs. And one of the best places in the (201) to find fantastic Mexican food is Pancho's Burritos. There are two locations--Westwood and New Milford--and the food is amazing. Really.
Pancho's (at least the New Milford location) is extremely small, maybe 10-12 tables, but has a full liquor license and offers a cozy, fun atmosphere. (Note: You may want to go on a weekday, as Pancho's tends to get pretty busy pretty quickly on the weekends. You'll end up waiting awhile.)
I started with their "house drink," a Bulldog, which is a frozen margarita mixed with sangria and sangria fruit, sporting an upside down Corona that drains slowly into the mix. Sounds strange, but it's fantastic (and also comes in a double size to share--bless the kind, kind universe and it's bartenders).
My friend and I started with guacamole--wait, let me rephrase that. By guacamole I meant some of the best guac I've ever had. It's definitely home made and full of garlic-cilantro brilliance. We also had the Mexican Cheese Chorizo--a melty, cheesy, sausagey mix that comes complete with warm corn tortillas. Mmm...just something else to put guacamole on...
I ordered the steak fajita plate, sans peppers (I know, I know...what's Mexican food without peppers? But I'm allergic. It's a curse this life has dealt me. I survive, nonetheless) and the plate is a little bit of everything. Steak, grilled onions, peppers (if you're not me), pico de gallo, lettuce, warm flour tortillas, guacamole, sour cream, black and/or pinto beans, rice...and SHOULD come with a second stomach, but I digress. It's something I would most certainly suggest to a first-timer. It gives you a great feel for how the food is prepared, along with giving you a sample of a bunch of items they have to offer.
My friend ordered a crispy chicken burrito (mainly for the spicy mayo it comes with, which is irresistible). The burritos are HUGE and usually end up coming home with you, at least in part. Stuffed with meat, cheese, beans, and rice, these burritos don't need anything else on the side. It's heaven in a tortilla, already wrapped for you--no work required! (Ok, I have a serious addiction to Mexican food. Go with me on this.)
I would report on dessert...but no more food would fit in our stomachs...or on the table.
If you haven't been to Pancho's Burritos yet, I obviously suggest it. No, I insist. If I could, I would force you there against your will. It's a place everyone needs to try at least once.
And, on a completely random side note: It has occurred to me this week that I am one of a VERY FEW people who actually knows what the word "doppelganger" means. Why has no one heard of this word? Honestly, I thought it was fairly common. I was proved wrong by half the Facebook community. And by my boyfriend. And by my brother.
(And, no. A doppelganger is NOT a Yiddish stunt double. But it should be.)
Current song: "Brick By Boring Brick" ~Paramore (They have yet to have a song I dislike. Go, Paramore. Brownie points, and such.)
Every day blogging is still difficult, having no computer at home to work on and all. Also, trying to blog at work is more difficult than cleaning a bathtub. (Another little tidbit I learned this week. Boo to stubborn bathtub rings.)
But enough about bathtubs. What this is really about is burritos. Burritos and all other delightfully delicious Mexican foodstuffs. And one of the best places in the (201) to find fantastic Mexican food is Pancho's Burritos. There are two locations--Westwood and New Milford--and the food is amazing. Really.
Pancho's (at least the New Milford location) is extremely small, maybe 10-12 tables, but has a full liquor license and offers a cozy, fun atmosphere. (Note: You may want to go on a weekday, as Pancho's tends to get pretty busy pretty quickly on the weekends. You'll end up waiting awhile.)
I started with their "house drink," a Bulldog, which is a frozen margarita mixed with sangria and sangria fruit, sporting an upside down Corona that drains slowly into the mix. Sounds strange, but it's fantastic (and also comes in a double size to share--bless the kind, kind universe and it's bartenders).
My friend and I started with guacamole--wait, let me rephrase that. By guacamole I meant some of the best guac I've ever had. It's definitely home made and full of garlic-cilantro brilliance. We also had the Mexican Cheese Chorizo--a melty, cheesy, sausagey mix that comes complete with warm corn tortillas. Mmm...just something else to put guacamole on...
I ordered the steak fajita plate, sans peppers (I know, I know...what's Mexican food without peppers? But I'm allergic. It's a curse this life has dealt me. I survive, nonetheless) and the plate is a little bit of everything. Steak, grilled onions, peppers (if you're not me), pico de gallo, lettuce, warm flour tortillas, guacamole, sour cream, black and/or pinto beans, rice...and SHOULD come with a second stomach, but I digress. It's something I would most certainly suggest to a first-timer. It gives you a great feel for how the food is prepared, along with giving you a sample of a bunch of items they have to offer.
My friend ordered a crispy chicken burrito (mainly for the spicy mayo it comes with, which is irresistible). The burritos are HUGE and usually end up coming home with you, at least in part. Stuffed with meat, cheese, beans, and rice, these burritos don't need anything else on the side. It's heaven in a tortilla, already wrapped for you--no work required! (Ok, I have a serious addiction to Mexican food. Go with me on this.)
I would report on dessert...but no more food would fit in our stomachs...or on the table.
If you haven't been to Pancho's Burritos yet, I obviously suggest it. No, I insist. If I could, I would force you there against your will. It's a place everyone needs to try at least once.
And, on a completely random side note: It has occurred to me this week that I am one of a VERY FEW people who actually knows what the word "doppelganger" means. Why has no one heard of this word? Honestly, I thought it was fairly common. I was proved wrong by half the Facebook community. And by my boyfriend. And by my brother.
(And, no. A doppelganger is NOT a Yiddish stunt double. But it should be.)
Current song: "Brick By Boring Brick" ~Paramore (They have yet to have a song I dislike. Go, Paramore. Brownie points, and such.)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Moving In, Moving On
It's hard to keep up a daily blog when your computer is in pieces on your new IKEA desk, you have no internet connection at your apartment, and your only means of blogging would be at work...which, of course, I took off in order to move. *sigh*
I am completely, finally, moved in to my own place and have officially spent my first night alone. It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself--and life--in one night. Such as:
1. Hand soap is NOT a suitable replacement for dish soap. It may smell nice, but it does NOT make nearly enough bubbles, and it will cause your glasses to taste like aromatherapy beads...not water or soda or juice.
2. I have learned how NOT to dismantle a chicken carcass. Gross? Yes, very. Shop Rite tricked me into buying a "whole chicken in a bag." I fell for it. I cooked it. (And by "cook," I mean my boyfriend turned on the oven, put the already-bagged chicken in said oven, and took it out. I did none of the actual "cooking.") But I did dismantle--or attempt to dismantle--the chicken myself. It started with cutlery. It ended with greasy hands, a puddle of chicken juice on the floor, a lot of cursing, and a vow to never make a whole chicken. Ever again.
3. The white cable just sitting on the floor needs to actually connect to your TV if you want to watch something.
4. I've learned that tasting every flavor of sorbet you bought that afternoon is perfectly fine, so long as no one's watching.
5. You should not throw all of your jewelry into one big bag and expect it to stay untangled. (This is a job I refuse to do as of yet. Maybe next month.)
6. My family and friends are absolutely priceless! (Especially when you need furniture carried up the stairs and put together.)
7. Hangers, tuna fish, paper towels, and lettuce are expensive items.
8. Life without a computer is a life not worth living.
9. I talk to myself more often than I'd like. This is especially apparent now. Being alone does things.
10. Getting a phone call from Grandma is way more exciting than ever before.
11. Vacuuming is necessary. (I would like to apologize to my mom here for knocking her incessant need to vacuum. I get it now. I really do.)
12. I hate washing dishes, but I enjoy it more without pants.
13. The people in my life love me way more than I ever thought.
14. It's OK to watch 5 rerun episodes of Criminal Minds in a row, even when you've already seen them. It's different (and better) when there's no one there to interrupt Shemar Moore when he's speaking. (Which, by the way, should be considered blasphemy.)
These are just a few of the important things I've figured out thus far. Something tells me there will be a million and one other little minutiae that come up and teach me some kind of big life lesson.
I. Am. So. Ready. (Bring it, Universe.)
Tonight: dinner at Pancho's Burritos with one of my favorite people. (I've been there quite a few times before, but I feel like it should be fresh in my head in order to write about it.)
Current song: "Careless Whisper" ~George Michael. (A classic. Done and done.)
I am completely, finally, moved in to my own place and have officially spent my first night alone. It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself--and life--in one night. Such as:
1. Hand soap is NOT a suitable replacement for dish soap. It may smell nice, but it does NOT make nearly enough bubbles, and it will cause your glasses to taste like aromatherapy beads...not water or soda or juice.
2. I have learned how NOT to dismantle a chicken carcass. Gross? Yes, very. Shop Rite tricked me into buying a "whole chicken in a bag." I fell for it. I cooked it. (And by "cook," I mean my boyfriend turned on the oven, put the already-bagged chicken in said oven, and took it out. I did none of the actual "cooking.") But I did dismantle--or attempt to dismantle--the chicken myself. It started with cutlery. It ended with greasy hands, a puddle of chicken juice on the floor, a lot of cursing, and a vow to never make a whole chicken. Ever again.
3. The white cable just sitting on the floor needs to actually connect to your TV if you want to watch something.
4. I've learned that tasting every flavor of sorbet you bought that afternoon is perfectly fine, so long as no one's watching.
5. You should not throw all of your jewelry into one big bag and expect it to stay untangled. (This is a job I refuse to do as of yet. Maybe next month.)
6. My family and friends are absolutely priceless! (Especially when you need furniture carried up the stairs and put together.)
7. Hangers, tuna fish, paper towels, and lettuce are expensive items.
8. Life without a computer is a life not worth living.
9. I talk to myself more often than I'd like. This is especially apparent now. Being alone does things.
10. Getting a phone call from Grandma is way more exciting than ever before.
11. Vacuuming is necessary. (I would like to apologize to my mom here for knocking her incessant need to vacuum. I get it now. I really do.)
12. I hate washing dishes, but I enjoy it more without pants.
13. The people in my life love me way more than I ever thought.
14. It's OK to watch 5 rerun episodes of Criminal Minds in a row, even when you've already seen them. It's different (and better) when there's no one there to interrupt Shemar Moore when he's speaking. (Which, by the way, should be considered blasphemy.)
These are just a few of the important things I've figured out thus far. Something tells me there will be a million and one other little minutiae that come up and teach me some kind of big life lesson.
I. Am. So. Ready. (Bring it, Universe.)
Tonight: dinner at Pancho's Burritos with one of my favorite people. (I've been there quite a few times before, but I feel like it should be fresh in my head in order to write about it.)
Current song: "Careless Whisper" ~George Michael. (A classic. Done and done.)
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