Blame it all on my roots, there's piss on my boots

Fair warning about the potty humor here...literally.

A couple days ago I heard my mother talking to one of the many fans she has who have phoned to check in on her throughout her recover, and she called the week we were having "a comedy of errors."

At the time I thought she was just over dramatizing the situation as all that had gone wrong at that point was our pump in the basement temporarily backfiring as the result of a dead battery...but I had quickly fixed that conundrum with the help of my dad by phone: I switched it so the pump would be running off of adapter and not its battery (which had died)'s power.

Then two nights ago - the Christmas tree toppled over and three of the five of us kids were left sweeping up broken ornaments, re-stringing lights, and screwing the darn tree back into its stand.

And that was funny.  Especially since my poor mum had to lie there helpless as we worked on the repair effort, unable to even see the tree she so loves to look upon and talk about ala the character in this bit:



But last night we learned that comedy (not cash interestingly enough) is ultimately king.  And the all important rule of 3 was reinforced right in front of my face when the toilet bowl overflowed.  With a vengence.  Only full of pee water - it's the time of year to be grateful for all sorts of things - but so full none the less, that the bathroom floor was awash and I wound up with piss on my boots, because I didn't think as fast as my sorellina who didn't come into the bathroom with bleach and mop in hand until she'd covered her feetsies with plastic bags.

Did I mention she is a nursing major at BC with a 3.9 gpa?

10 to Go

10 posts to get up here in the next 10 days!

Here's a cheat borrowed from a chirp (inspired by Elizabeth Banks' aka Effie Trinket):

On having vs not having

specifically: 5 kids vs no more than 4

I am pretty obsessed with my sibs (obv).  I thank the Big Guy & my rents every day for the Naugler 5 and wouldn't trade having two brothers and two sisters for anything in the whole wide World.

But I've often had friends fantasize about having a big family or acquaintances ask whether I'd recommend they go for more when they've already got 3 kids or 4, so today I thought I'd post some of the wisdom I've shared with friends and random people alike on family size in general over the years.

First  - without a doubt, 2 kids is THE most manageable amount of offspring to have.  one per parent at any given time.  plenty of resources, time, energy and love to go around.  plus the little ones learn to share (sort of).

Second  -  if you have 3 kids, you're golden because you never have to upgrade from a sedan or small SUV to a car with a second back seat.  there's ample room for backpacks and sports equipment w/out needing the extra space afforded to you in a godforsaken minivan.  plus your kids get the practice of being friends with two distinctly different individuals which is clutch.  true you get a middle child, who's bound to have a middle child complex, but you're at least contributing conceivably well adjusted individuals to the world.

Third  - if you go for 4 kids, the good news is, between you and your partner you can hold all four of their hands when crossing the street.  this i deem a verrrrry important aspect of the child rearing process.  and maybe it's just me, but i think it's also an important symbol of attention division - if each kid gets one parents' hand it's fair to assume each kid is getting an equal amount of attention, love, and energy throughout their childhoods.

Fourth  - 5 kids... 5 is the real deal, guys.  THE REAL DEAL.  5 is a special force division, a basketball team, a LITERAL HANDFUL.  There are 5 kids in The Family Stone, and Diane Keaton and Craig T. Nelson did a damn good job with that fictitious brood.  I think mama and papa naugs really knocked it out of the park with the 5 Naugleberry knuckleheads in real life too, so it's not that it can't be done well, it's just that the decision to have 5 kids reeeally deserves SERIOUS contemplation and reflection ahead of time...

Fifth - same thing with 6 kids.  Calls for a SRS (I think that's how the kids are shortening serious these days) amount of pre-meditation.  Cause 6 must merit the lable of a gaggle right?  a flock?  a herd? 

Really, more than four is no man's land and anyone's game.  more than ten, obviously, forget about it... you run out of fingers to count them off on.  that's a crazy undertaking - just simply not for the faint of heart.

But who am I kidding?  Having ANY kids is not for the faint of heart. 

-- I'll give a simple nod in this split second to the only children and babymomma / babydaddies of only children out there now because that's quite the undertaking in its own right - you are responsible for successfully socializing that little one who's flying solo.  So g'luck with that.

Back to bringing any amount of babies into the world... it's got to be easily the craziest career choice out there and nearly EVERYONE's inclined to do it.

But if I have learned anything in this week of "caretaking" in Newton, it's that ANY number of dependents is significant.  So you really just gotta know your limits, cast your lot and then play the game to the best of your ability.

It's kind of like that old Hasbro toy Kitty Surprise (a Christmas favorite in '93)

I had the "breed" of cat below back in the day.

...and she had a litter of 4 (exactly what I'd been wishing for as an 8 year old) so I named them Alexandra Marie, Marie Alexandra, and then two boys names in the same back to back just reversed ordered... Charles something?  Something Charles was it?  needless to say, I have come to realize I could never handle having 4 kids.  I should have figured that out in fourth grade when I couldn't even come up with 4 distinctly different names for my kitten surprises.

Schooled

10 Things I've learned while my mother's had to lie on the couch in one position for the past four days and I've been (for all intents and purposes) babysitting for her....

1.  if you get a funny feeling the tree looks like it's going to fall over....it's going to fall over

2.  if you put Mario Lopez and Melissa Joan Hart in a Hallmark Christmas movie together....you get an instant classic

3.  if she hadn't heard a contestant on "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" say she had "a height thing" my mother may have been more worried that I was my own worst bachelorettenemy

4.  if Nanny Janny says she has the same jacket I complement her on in gray and she'll bring it to me tomorrow what she means is she's glad I like the one she was wearing:

which is warm and modern and plum colored and just my size, but she wouldn't mind giving me this one:

5.  it's official, 28 is synonymous with adulthood.

6.  if my mother was Melissa Joan Hart in "Holiday in Handcuffs," she'd kiss A.C. Slater

7.  Annie Camden on the TV show ruined my mother's life by having those damn twins because she'd already had her tubes tied

8.   i am notsogood at hiding the glass pickle

9.  i had my furry gray jacket from nanny hanging over the chair in the den my mother is supposed to sit in awkwardly when she needs a break from being horizontal over the course of these ten days and it scared the s*** out of her when she walked into the dark den just now

10.  my sorellina is destined to date this boy Johnny McSomethingIrishSounding she knows at BC right now

True Story

I am playing nurse this week for my mamadukes, who had emergency surgery on a detached retina Friday night, because my pops is off to Dallas tomorrow on a business trip with his new company (the cool wiz kids who brought this fancy speech recognition software to the aid of oldfolks everywhere who would much rather just talk to their newfangled computers, tablets and smartphones than they would single-finger type on their gadgets' tricky keyboards and keypads). 

Part of my mother's recovery plan apparently involves watching the endless stream of Christmas movies airing on ABC Family, Lifetime and the Hallmark Channel.  And part of my nurse duties involve me sitting by my mother and taking in all of the holly jolly the fine writers of these programs have to offer in the way of cookie cutter love stories and santaland sagas.

Here is the funny part.

I sit and watch predominantly wondering how many of the actors in these tv movies have mfa's vs espers' studio training, commercial vs print careers, broadway vs improv roots...and thinking I hope I can play an elf who comes down from the North Pole to find love someday!!!!!

Gotta run, my mom just rang the jingle bell we gave her to use when she needs something during the next 10 days of bed-rest she's been prescribed.

The Reason for the Season's

good will and good energy has never been so clear to me.

People start getting excited about the way they'll feel in a couple weeks when they're carrying out their New Year's Resolutions.  Even if they're being hot messes between now and the first of the year, they're just so hopeful and proud of the plans they've got.

....

In 2010 I stopped saying the word "should"

In 2011 I was on.the.ball. with a bunch of resolutions

In 2012 I ran the Boston Marathon but I knew that "crossing it off my list" was a copout since I'd been planning it for about 5 years

In 2013 I'm not sure what my M.O. will be, but I'm already jonesin' for that clean 1/1 slate

...

in the meantime, I moved my desk to be by my window and I'm regretting that decision (hopefully my last poor one of 2012) because the view I have is of my neighbors' fire escape and what appears to be honest to god a headless pigeon perched on an air conditioner.

gross.

12 - 12 - 12 - 14

Orange ya glad I'm not just writing about the date?

12/12/12's cool and all, but I'm writing this morning - before 8am - having gone to a 6:30 spin class already - bright eyed and bushy (pony)tailed - to set myself a little end-of-year-goal.

14 posts in 14 (to 20) days.

Totes doable and totes necessary that I at the very least write as many posts in this, my 3rd year in the blogosphere, as I did in 2010, my first.

How is this for a "How far we've come" moment: in December of 2010, I wrote my final younameitnaugs blog posts in the basement of my parents' home in Newton on the desktop HP computer I'd gotten back from the bosslady... this year I'll write the final goldilocksnyc chapters of 2012 on my Carrie Bradshaw-esque MacBook Pro from here:

Yup that's the Hudson yonder.

Moving right along, moving right along...

Um, and because this was too good to not pay forward:

Those are banana dogs.  Chiquita banana dogs.

This is going to be a gooood day.

Photo Book aka my most advanced use of multimedia to date / mama naugs' stocking stuffer

Click here to view this photo book larger

Shutterfly photo books offer a wide range of artful designs and embellishments to choose from.

Confessions of a Boston Girl in the Big City

"this feels right too."

it's also universal.

I first saw Sweet Home Alabama not much more than a month into my first year at college.

At the time I had not had a "serious" relationship last for more than 2.5 weeks (unless you count my platonic elementary school romance of 5+ years with the boy with the big droopy brown eyes).  Of course that hadn't stopped me from being convinced I might one day take back up with that high school sweetheart, marry him and settle down in the suburbs of Boston to coach our kids' little league teams and do hair & makeup for their middle school musicals and plays, but the point is, I could hardly be empathetic to Reese Witherspoon's character as she sat lamenting having to fully part with her past in order to properly move forward with her fiance, Dr. Patrick McDreamy Dempsey aka Andrew, who was waiting for her to clear up the little lingering issue of her divorce from her husband/stillborn's babydaddy (that's awful I know, but I'm attempting to stretch myself here), Jake, which she'd had to high tail it down to 'Bama to resolve....

Nevertheless, the tears poured down my fat Freshman face as I sat beside my roommate Fife, who was from Long Island and about as prone to crying as it's prone to rain in Arizona.  This was way before my dr. roomie would become my cousin and way before she'd come to learn that while her $40k/year tuition had gone to helping her understand anatomy and physiology, mine had gone to learning how to draw from my emotional well and cry on cue like a good theatre major.

My tears at Sweet Home then and to this day are entirely authentic though.  Since that night 10 years ago when I first watched the movie, I've pretty much cried from the time Melanie tells Jake as they sit on Bear's grave at the pet cemetary that "this feels right too" through the remaining 35 minutes of the film.

Whether I've had a Patrick Dempsey in my life at the time or not.  Niagra Falls.  Just the saddest tears.  Ask my roommates, ask my sisters, ask my bff, ask the parents of the kids I babysat during college summers who came home one night to see me all red eyed and had to try to not laugh/fire me on the spot as I explained that this movie just GETS to me every time.  Every time.  I can never not watch it if it happens to be on when I happen to be watching TV.

Anyway - tonight it hit me.

Because I came home to my swanky new apartment and my Texan roomie was listening to Country music as she unpacked her (amazing) wardrobe and I realized I bet that part of the movie gets her too.  I bet it gets anyone who's heart feels equally at home in their hometown as it does in the big world they're out trying to run.

A part of me always knew that even though I'd only gone 7 minutes away from home for college, one day I'd go far far away, and I'd have to, because my heart would be restless if I didn't let it go after its dreams, and because I had so much support from all of my family and friends it would be a shame to waste their belief in me and my confidence in myself, but a part of me must have also known that things like Christmastime would always tug at my heartstrings, because I'd know I was going home to the safety and comfort and "right feeling" of Boston a few times over the course of the holidays and I'd have to wrestle with myself.

And seriously ask myself, whether I'd given my whole heart away a long time ago...whether I was a Smueter or a Carmichael.

I've got many more Christmases to keep asking myself, and only time will tell of course.  But the real confession of this Boston Girl in the Big City, is that ideally I'd get the Best of Both Worlds.  That's right, Hannah Montana style.

Good thing there's no rules that say a 28-year-old girl can't dream.

just need porridge

Fab news from the UUWS.  This girl is moving DOWNTOWN.

Not too far down, read: 12 blocks.

But those 12 blocks (and these sweet amenities: hello laundry in unit, working dishwasher and WINE FRIDGE!!)

mean I am moving UP IN THE WORRRLLLLLDD.

which is all one can really ever ask for isn't it?!  To move onward and upwards... FORWARD, like my boy, B.

So here I am 13 days from turning 28 on the 27th and moving right along, moving right along (sorellina shout out as she is the only one reading this who will know the tune to which that phrase should be sung repeatedly).

So very excited.  So very optimistic about all that is to come in the new year in my new apt with my renewed focus on la comedia.  Book's done and now it's just a matter of handing it over to the right powers that be.  Nomad status is on a much needed hiatus post wedding season of 2012. 

Kinda feel like

In case inquiring minds want to know

and frankly they may not now, but they likely will eventually when I'm too busy to detail this process...

I'm in the querying phase with the book I wrote and heeding the advice of this chiquita/writer:

http://www.tinhouse.com/blog/16373/how-to-stay-sane-while-querying-literary-agents.html

I often have said I know I may have to knock on 400 doors.  And I'm game, I know it's a marathon not a sprint.  It's just a process, because you can't mass email your queries, you have to pick and choose agents who are potentially most partial to a project like yours and base that determination on what other books they've gotten published, authors they've launched, etc...

so

I've been working on "the book" since January of 2007 - had myself a nice little 5 year anniversary party this past Winter, and I completed my first draft in 2010 and the one that got vetoed by the gals in the Fall of 2011.  But prior to last week, even when it was a work of nonfiction and all I had to send around to potential agents was a completed nonfiction book proposal, I had only queried 4 agencies.

Whereas as of today, I've queried ten.

and

For anyone who's not so quick at their times tables,  I'm looking at 78 more weeks of querying 5 a week before I've hit that 400th... vs.  160 years of doing so (which is what I would have been facing based on the average of 2.5 per year that I'd been rocking since that first draft was done).

In it to finish it?  Sure.  Why not?  This won't be my first marathon, and I smiled through my last one.

"Chocolat"

had been sitting in a red netflix envelope in my desk drawer since July. 

6 weddings in 6 months, many of which would be held in Massachusetts, have made for a very merry Nomadic Naugs since my single modmate's and my Summer of Fun's Unofficial Start, and tonight was the first I could spare to watch Juliette Binoche woo Johnny Depp with her cacao powder voodoo.

So good.  So classic that I've been meaning to see this movie for 12 years now.  I love the concept of the queue.... I don't even know what I'll get once I've returned the red envelope but I do know it will be another I've been meaning to see for ages now.

I also love this dialogue and how Johnny Depp's character changes the subject so abruptly after Juliette Binoche's poses the tough questions:

Vianne

Don't you ever think about belonging somewhere? 

Roux 

The price is too high.
You end up caring what people expect of you. No.

Vianne

Is that so terrible?
Having people expect something of you?

All the single ladies / All the centipedes

I had one of the best weekends of my life on fanciful Shelter Island celebrating my BC roomie's wedding on Saturday to my big cousin, who grew up around the corner from me, and who I idolized because he was too cool for school - not even in a bad way, literally in a good way, he was like (and is still) super cool, but now I'm back in Manhattan, and I have gone from singing all the single ladies on the dance floor with the 4 remaining bachelorettes (out of 12 who I lived with in college) to single handedly killing all the (2) centipedes I have found just waiting to give me nightmares by creeping up on me in first my kitchen and now my bedroom.

HONEST TO GOD - I JUST HAD TO own up to being me, myself and I here against the world (since my roommate is a doll, but he would probably be more scared of these things than I was and less viciously willing to impale them with stiletto heels and or paper towel rolls). 

And the moral is a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.  I am just sitting here in a bit of shock and bewilderment wondering when I'm gonna find that bed, chair and bowl of porridge I know is waiting for me.

Bigs & Littles

My mom told me today she bets I would've eaten up greek life had I gone to a school that had it.  "Come on," she said, "you would have been running for vice president of your sorority, and been obsessed with the whole scene."

BC didn't have greek life, and actually I have never even been to a frat party or in to a frat or sorority house, but I think she's probably right that I would have gotten swept up into the culture.  If only because I'm a sucker for having sisterfriends.

We have a cousin who's just got one brother in Texas, and she just got into A&M and into a sorority down there, and her parents are uber proud cause it must be one of the good ones, but I'm excited for her cause now she'll get to experience having big and little sisters.

And truly there is nothing better in the world. 

I dropped both my bambina sorella and my sorellina off at PC and BC respectively in the past week, and I love love love getting to live vicariously through the endless adventures they're having and I love knowing that they'll be like sisters to some of the friends they make on their campuses regardless of the fact that there's not greek life on either of them.  Friends are the family we choose for ourselves, and if you're lucky you just add on cause you're of the more the merrier mentality.

Sister Sense

The Artist's Way encourages you to look for synchronicity in your life... signs, omens, coincidences, examples of fate, providence, highly attuned intuition and answered prayers...

I have always sort of done that anyway, but I'm highly sensitive to the appearance of these things in my life now so since I woke up missing my sisters Wednesday morning I was not the least bit surprised when my sorellina called to break the news of my bambina sorella's breakup from her prince of a high school sweetheart that night...  We've all known it was coming, it was a caveat from the beginning of their relationship that they wouldn't stay together when their freshman year of college came around, but it was sad none the less.

So I don't want to harp on that, I'd rather share a silly anecdote from last weekend. Perhaps the little one will stumble upon this post and at least have a chuckle at her eldest sister's nutty-ness.

I got pulled over on the interstate Saturday night on my way back to Westchester from a BBQ, and when the cop leaned into the window to ask for my license and registration he said "it reaks of booze in this car" (but I have a feeling what he actually smelled was the gasoline I had actually spilled on myself at the Mobil station I stopped by to fill up at before getting on the road because I over paid in cash ahead of pumping not realizing the clicking would mean the tank was full) and anyway, I was like "I went to a bbq where there was drinking hours ago, at like 2... but if I was speeding it's because I was singing along to this soundtrack of Batboy the musical" (and then I turned the volume up so he could hear).  To which he replied, "you were singing?" and I just nodded.  And he said, "well do you always drive with no headlights on on the high way?" and I said, "oh gosh, nope, oh my gosh, sorry, this is the car of the family I'm house sitting for, I didn't realize the lights didn't go on automatically!"

Found the lever, twisted the lights to On and drove off after he told me to "just be safe."

It's a semi-charmed kind of life. 

Book Notes

I'm a little more than a quarter of the way through my fourth draft of The Book largely thanks to the effects of the 11 weeks I've done so far of The Artist's Way.

And I have in the past week come upon two gems...

The first is the recently departed and great David Rakoff's encouraging if pessimistic piece on how writing gets harder



The second are Colson Whitehead's Rules For Writing.

The most clutch of which, I think, is "Rule No. 7: Writer’s block is a tool — use it."

And now that I'm the wiser I will.  Perhaps in future months but for the time being to explain to friends & family members why, after 5.5 years working on "The Book" it's still not finished.

Fortunately I'm feeling unblocked and ready to wrap this draft up in time for my best friend's wedding this October.  I just like to know I have tools.  And I'm in good company when it feels hard.  Nobody said it was easy.

The Peanut Gallery

When I want a quick news fix in the middle of my work day as an Agent I go to msn.com.  I should probably make my default the NY Times, and I've tried to in the past, but something about the interface of msn.com, my familiarity with it, the way it flashes 7 slides with 3 stories each when you open to it makes it my go-to.

Usually it links to NBC news stories or MSNBC news stories or msn business, relationship, or fitness articles that I find interesting enough and pretty well written.

But in the past two weeks, during the Olympics hub-bub it habitually linked to Fox News reports recapping stories coming out across the pond.  And almost everyone I read was repulsively written, with a snarky, conservative stand point leaking between every line.  I finished every article thinking to myself, "who are the assholes they have writing these pieces??"

24 hours after Gabby Douglass won the all around gold, she googled herself and amidst a million articles calling her America's Sweetheart, a handful of comments about her hair not being done well for the competition caught her eye.  The McKayla Maroney is not impressed meme went viral over night, and my bff posted a beautifully written piece to his fb wall which he usually gets no deeper or personal on than in reference to his favorite childhood film or flavored mocha latte and it received over 1300 likes and some few hundred comments...

From the peanut gallery.

Most were positive, but a handful were rude, unintelligent, and most annoyingly, unnecessarily negative.

To which I ask, why???  Why the negativity?  What does it add to the world to make a peanut gallery contribution that's negative?  McKayla Maroney had that smirk on her face in one moment, but she had tears in her eyes for far more as she stood on the gold medal platform smack dab in the middle of the Fab Five, her teammates & friends.  Gabby Douglass defied gravity over and over again with a breathtaking exuberance smiling for miles. 

I mention the Fox news articles I kept coming upon on line last week, because, for the first time ever I was actually tempted to post a comment criticizing what I was reading - but I didn't because the thought would occur to me: what's there to gain? 

Remember that lesson from Bambi?  If you don't have something nice to say don't say it at all.

It's right on.

Once in a blue moon

My aunt posted this little nugget of an astrological fun fact to FB today.  I don't have any crystals to put out for recharging, but I am pretty excited to see what this blue moon has in store for me.

Tonight, my sorellina and I saw Anything Goes at the theatre where we were in The Wedding Singer two Summers ago.  We hugged & congratulated my "show crush" from that Wedding Singer Summer, a stellar tap dancer as it turns out and such a solid guy, who's been happily married now for a year I think and I walked away with two main conclusions from the viewing.

1st.  I don't know if anyone it means a hill of beans to will ever read this assessment/recommendation, but Dori Bryan-Ployer is, I swear, the best choreographer in Boston.  She shapes up a cast into a crisp troupe of dancers with a method I haven't seen since I was first directed and choreographed by one of the greats originally from CA twelve or thirteen years ago.  Feck, I'm old.  (I also cantered at an Irish Wedding this afternoon - amazing - more on that another time, but hence my feeling like saying "feck").  Anyway - Dori - she's so freaking good.  The Lyric or Speakeasy or the Huntington had better scoop her up sooner than later.  And when they do, I'll start coming to Boston to see shows at all three again.

2nd.  Here's the once in a blue moon tie in... The premise of Anything Goes is a guy & girl meet one night at a swinging 1920s or 30s party and fall madly in love driving around Central Park in the back of a taxi cab for 9 hours, but the girl's betrothed to a Brit, and the two lovers don't run into each other again until they happen to both be on the deck of a London bound Ocean Liner 3 months later...  many musical theatre antics unfold and ::SPOILER ALERT:: the guy gets the girl back (with the help of some offensively written scenework and the singin' and dancin' of his public enemy and nightclub crooner friends... it's one of the best).  And it's a riot to think that back when life spans weren't spilling into the 80 and 90 years on the reg, sometimes all it took was ONE NIGHT - one magic moment at a party to seal the deal.  Stick a fork in these two, they were done for, head over heals and ready to take the plunge...

There was no song and dance of an on again off again courtship.  No trial period spent testing out living together in a 2 bedroom apartment before the ring was bought.  It was bing bang boom.  A little moonlight, a little spin around the park, and (likely) a couple kisses combined with what one imagines could at most only have been a little heavy petting, and it was cause for the breaking of an engagement.

Once in a blue moon, I bet love still works like this: "at first sight," in reaction to a gut feeling, and because for all intents and purposes after all, anything goes.

But I haven't seen it do so to date in real life, so for the time being, even though I've been in it twice and seen two of my siblings perform it in middle school and high school productions, even though I've got pretty much every spoken line and no joke every song lyric memorized, I'll keep seeing this show time and time again, whenever I've got the opportunity to.  Because it's not just delovely, it's heavenly.

Cue self indulgent embedding:





Okay enough of that. Take me back to Manhattan ;)

How I used A**hole as a pickup line

This weekend was one of the best weekends of my life. 

We brought my Dr Roomie to the Cape for the weekend and threw her bachelorette party of epic proportions... More on that later perhaps,  but first here's the text message conversation I had with a boy we met while out at the British Beer Company in Falmouth.

And by "a boy we met" I mean, a boy that had some sort of altercation with one of my other single roommates earlier in the night, looked like an a**hole and then answered when I called out to him from across the bar, "hey A**hole."  For whatever reason, even though the roomie and the gaggle of girls we were with AND I all agreed he was clearly of the a**hole persuasion, I also felt that he'd be fun to go makeout with on the cute little capehouse lined street around the corner from the bar.

1:02am Bridesmaid Naugs: Oh you are funny.  Are u on the beach?

1:04am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Haha nah... Wat a tease u are

1:15am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Wat u doin now?

1:17am Bridesmaid Naugs: Ha, heading back to great Harbor.  You coming, Colby? 

****his name was Colby.  a douche bag name if ever there's been one

1:18am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Absolutely not...it would be fun but too much energy

1:20am Bridesmaid Naugs: Total tease btw, I'll own it.  Haha 'absolutely not.'  Yup, funny / so cute

1:22am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Not gonna lie that was hilarious when those kids came by and w r on a rando lawn haha

1:23am Bridesmaid Naugs: Hahaha yesss yup I mean sometimes you just gotta make out on that lawn

1:30am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Wish u coulda came back here with me

1:40am Bridesmaid Naugs: Cab here and we can hook up in the outdoor shower - ha

1:41am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): There is an outdoor shower...haha...come on u treat me like I'm 7...u suck.  i was gonna walk u back here haha but u weren't down

1:42am Bridesmaid Naugs: Awwww sad.  Wait how old are you again?  Seriously I am sorry for asking and if I weren't bacheloretting I might have walked back w you

1:43am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Im 22...and haha it's ok idc... i'm sure u will have a good night anyways.. I just thought it would have been a great story

***idc is early twentysomething for I don't care

1:45am Bridesmaid Naugs: Aww yes, would've been an excellent story... another time :)

1:46am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Prob not...im never down here but whatever...I had fun.  u have the best personality.  i loved it

1:47am Bridesmaid Naugs: -ha- prob not - you're right.  Night boy-o

1:48am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): G'nite have fun...still upset lol

1:50am Bridesmaid Naugs: Get over it / into a cab.  Night cutie

1:52am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Haha u suck...gnite

1:53am Bridesmaid Naugs:  Hahaha

1:54am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Not funny

1:55am Bridesmaid Naugs: Yeah I am (funny).  Call my friend Pziok ankfok

***this is when i was more or less falling asleep while trying to text (we girls had played a LOT of flip cup and had three flavors of jello shots earlier on in the evening)

  

2:00am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): Wait that made no sense.  

2:01am Cute Cape Cod Boy (aka A**hole): U gotta hook me up with ur sister.

***my sorellina's 20, I had told him about her earlier, 'cause, well, they'd actually be kinda cute together.

Scribble scribble / goody goody

I'm reading this love letter to the LUWS (lower upper west side, essentially the deservingly glorified basement of the UUWS) written a while ago by Nora Ephron on Lena Dunham's recommendation.  It's likely anyone who's caught more than a handful of episodes of GIRLS now considers themselves on first name basis with Lena or at least in kindred company with her character Hannah, and I'm no different...  But I skimmed Lena's piece on Nora earlier this morning and thought I'd read the phrase Goody Goody where actually it said "Scribble Scribble" the title of a collection of articles Nora Ephron had written on the media in the 70s.

And anyway... that got me thinking about my first love and subsequent heartbreak... the night when Nick B. came to tell me in Day Middle School's atrium that Mike didn't want to "go with me" anymore... the tears my friends and I shed for the remaining two hours of the dance we were at as we mourned the door to our childhoods' closing and the fact that none of us had yet been asked to slowdance with any of the boys we liked...the pink fitted sweatpants and DARE t-shirt I moped around in the next two days and the more socially acceptable green leggings and Limited Too sweatshirt I changed into before going to face my new reality at school Monday morning on my mother's insistence...

It would appear that I had been dumped due to the fact that my elementary school love had peaked the fancy of kissing-Gen, who would become one of my best friends and fellow nookgirls as the years went on, and that - as he told so and so who told so and so who told so and so - he'd had Nick B. break up with me at that dance because of what a "goody goody" I was.

GOODY GOODY?!

It still somehow cuts to my core.  Ha.

Luckily though, the pain recedes, and I have the advice Nora Ephron gave Lena Dunham: "You can’t meet someone until you’ve become what you’re becoming."

How on earth could I have known what I was becoming at 10 if I still don't at 27?

Furry Tailz

I'm off to my second to last Level 2 Musical Improv Class right now with this in my head:




Utter brilliance, amiright?

Goin to the chapel...

Usually I leave the mushy blogging to my mamadukes but I am all bursting with love right now having gone to my best friend from kindergarten's wedding last night where I got to see her start an incredibly happy "grown up" life with my 9th grade crush.

Most of Newton made it out to the best party of the year so far at the gorgeous Granite Links plus a handful of my best friend from kindergarten's and my college roommates.  Because yeah, that happened, and life imitated the art of all of those classic teen TV shows like Saved By the Bell, Boy Meets World and 90210 and we went to the same college AND lived together...

and I tell people this story and love it as much now as I did in the moment, but one time sophomore year on the Heights, my best friend from kindergarten and I were getting ready in the bathroom we shared on our side of our 8 man suite, putting mascara and blush on, blowdrying our hair and what not, and it occurred to me/us that what we were doing in REAL life was exactly what we had played years ago when we would pretend to be getting ready for date nights with our then non-existant boyfriends in our apartment we shared as 20somethings.

True to fact that night sophomore year we DID have boyfriends coming over to pick us up.  Of course, mine came and went, hers took the plunge and has been in it / is in it for the long haul since then.

But my gosh if they weren't both BEAMING last night.  Just so freaking happy.  And no less happy than they would have been if they'd gotten engaged and married 4 or 5 years ago when she was more than ready to run down that aisle with him.  It's a marathon not a sprint, and it's been entirely worth the wait. 

It's always always worth the wait.

Her sorellina made me cry with the toast she made at the reception... admitting to having to sneakily play with my best friend from kindergarten's barbies while we were at school when she and their bambina sorella were home and she made no bones about not wanting to have to wait long to be an auntie, you just knew there was so much love in the Quincy air and reverence for family and commitment and man, it was just the best. 

Bring on the next 4 in the next 4 months.  I can't get enough of these weddings.

27 things I'm taking or leaving

I'm basically obsessed with everything that is "our late twenties."  My late 20s specifically, but the collective late 20s too.  I've had conversations in the past month with a handful of my faves who all agree this is quite an amazing time of life.

I'm also reading Bethenny Frankel's book, which I found in the bff's little sister's room while I was house sitting in Westchester this weekend.  For the longest time he couldn't remember who he'd last given it to.

Anyway, as such, I've been introduced to her concept of taking or leaving it.  And I like it.  And I just cleaned out my storage unit FINALLY and have come across some remnants of my mid-twenties, so now I'm faced with this interesting opportunity to physically take or leave parts of my past.  Some are easy to discard, some I'm happy to be bringing back to the future.

Here are 27 things I'm taking into or leaving out of my late 20s.

1. My CD collection (because it's never been impressive, but it will also never get old)
2. My job as an agent until I've made an extra $30k/yr
3. and this hair product I got in Australia four years ago, because I have found nothing like it stateside
4. (oh those are all takes, by the way) my first leave is furniture I found on the side of the road, it's time
5. Also leaving any shoes that are uncomfortable 
6. And/or any shoes that can't be salvaged by the cobbler
7. Also any jeans that haven't been hemmed and are frayed at the bottom
8. I'm taking my BC crewneck sweatshirt, cause the things practically vintage
9. Leaving my college bf's high school sweatshirt - actually not even just leaving it, giving it back to him this weekend so he can give it to his current gf
10. Taking my Nantucket Reds skirt OBVIOUSLY
11. Taking my Nantucket Scrapbook (DITTO)
12. Leaving my yearbook in my parents' attic, sorrynotsorry, Mum, one of these days I'll clear my ish out of there
13. But not any time soon because I'm also leaving my storage unit for good (for now) - seriously, it's like $1200 a year I need for my friends' wedding fund
14. I'm taking my Broadway dreams and my plans to get a sitcom
15. I'm taking the book - in a new direction - but also into publication (is that the noun of publishing?)
16. I'm leaving my notions of getting an MFA in writing or acting although
17. I'm taking my LSAT prep book - just in case!  (My dad'll love that)
18. I'm taking certain phone numbers I think it's fun to keep in my phone "Special Friend's, the photog's, Justin Fender Like The Guitar's" and "Sally (my therapist in Boston)'s"
19. I'm leaving others that it's really not worth it or appropriate for me to still have a tap of my fingertip away
20. I'm leaving teenaged drama and angst
21. But I'm taking passion and my love of love and Improv
22. I'm taking my 26.2 Bumper Sticker - HOLLER BOSTON 2012
23. Taking this cute off the cuff list of 25 things my mom said there were to love about me on the envelope of my 25th birthday card

   24.  I'm taking the picture of all of us in The Nook on our last day of high school
   25.  And the nook girls, my BC roomies, a few of the other 18 roomies I've had since    

          graduating, my SATC-like NY friends, my 2 favorite co-workers, my sisterfriends 

          (my whole family of course), the bff, his brother, my ACK roomies, and so on

          (the friends who lift me up and lighten my days with laughter)
   26.  I'm taking ambition, pride, humility, gratitude, courage and "The Secret"
   27.  And I'm leaving regret.  Life's too short.  It's also only just begun.

Partyfail

I've made and botched my fourth foray into online dating.

Count it.

The problem is I'm agreeable, a conversationalist, patient and a romantic at heart.

Oh, and that I'm going to 6 weddings in the next 6 month.  3 of them being my best friends' (my best elementary school, high school and college best friends'), so I've got this gloriously heightened view of the importance of committed relationships in the lives of late 20somethings.

So for a hot second I entertained the idea of taking a boyfriend this Summer when a spark match struck up conversation with me and started to do his best to woo me.

I'm just not that into him though and just not that into dating someone just so I can say I'm dating someone.  Even if he is super sweet, successful, worldly and taken with me. 

So as I do my best to strip my texts of their coy nature and send this boy a clear message concerning my disinterest (he, who has made a habit of texting me before 9 on weekdays and before 10 on weekends, and who queried "how can I court you if I can't see you?" in response to my insane-as-usual schedule), I'm catching up on Game of Thrones, which is way more fun that making get-to-know-you conversation while folding socks and packing a suitcase (that was the winner 3rd date we "went" on) and re-defining "romanticism."

I like to fall in love with guys I'm friends with first.  I have no business swimming in the online dating pool.  That's a school of gourami and worse hypostomus punctatuss fish.

In the words of the wise song I sang in George M back in the day, "I wanna be wooed first, put me in the mood first, I need that old moon above.  She's taken my glove.  My hand someone's kissing, my parasol's missing.  Take back your 20th century love."

(I mean you sort of have to see the song in action to fully understand the significance of the glove and parasol bits, which are probably only in there anyway to fit the rhyme scheme, but the moral of the story is, what's with the rush??  The best is yet to come and always worth the wait).

A note from Nomadic Naugs

I spent 7 days in Boston before boarding the 11:59 megabus to NY last night and hopping on the first metro north train from Grand Central to Pelham at 5:35 this AM so I could cab from Pelham station to the bff's parents' house where I'm house and dog sitting for 5 days.

The pup was happy to see me bright and early, for sure,  but I gotta tell you - full time fun naugs might not be slowing down but the nomad in me's lost some serious steam since the days when I'd do there and backs for work and whatnot, and I'm more aware of the importance of pacing ones' self than ever.

Thanks Boston 2012.

I was on the go every day and night that I spent this last trip up to MA, and my final day there, I remarked aloud every twenty minutes or so, "I have to go pack my suitcase."  But fast forward to 10:41 following the celebration of the bambina sorella's graduation and I had still yet to go actually do it.

I haphazardly threw together my clothes, work papers, and reading material from the bus ride to Boston and my pops drove me to South Station in the nick of time.

BUT THEN - here's where this "and then I found $20 sort of story" gets really good! - there was a DETOUR on the PIKE.... so we were cutting it uber close cutting through the Back Bay to South Station and THEN just cause it was thank kind of night THE ESCALATOR TO THE SECOND LEVEL OF SOUTH STATION WAS NOT FUNCTIONING.

So I had to haul my damn well traveled pink plastic suitcase up a flight of stairs in my gold flippy floppies.

And I was fine, cause the bus left 10 minutes late. But lords, lords, if that just is NOT the sort of stuff I want to be dealing with in my late 20s late at night.

Mirror Mirror on the wall

I'm definitely an old soul.

When I'd finally wrangled my angst into check, I started to no longer loathe working with the old ladies at the office of Lexington-Dermatology where I summer-(jobb)-ed for six or seven years, and I realized there was a limitless amount of joy to be gleaned from the stories my colleagues would share with me day in and day out about their tumultuous courtships and wild single girl adventures of yore.  Most of them were married by the time they were 22, but they'd still managed to pack some serious peaks and valleys into the narratives of their local lives.  None of them were from farther than a few towns away, so they mostly regaled me with the tales of life as they'd known it while young & healthy in Newton, Waltham, and Watertown... Before taking trips for their 35th wedding anniversaries to Europe or buying their summer homes in Maine at 40something, the farthest their travels took them were down the Cape, up to Hampton Beach, if they were lucky to NYC to see a Broadway show and if they were luckier yet, all the way to California to meet a crazy aunt who'd flown the coop and been living the high life out there fake eyelashes, gogo boots and all. 

One of my favorites from the office, Annette, passed away my senior year of high school and I lost a surrogate grandmother and gained a guardian angel I'm certain.  I grew close to the golden girls there, and they may still have driven me nuts with their learning curves when we'd upgrade to newer scheduling software on the computers, but they're some of the neatest and nicest women I've ever worked with.  And it doesn't strike me as strange at all to think of the friendships I'd formed with many of them 40 - 60 years my seniors.

Similarly, it no longer bothers me that my best workouts are always the ones I have rounding the circuit at Curves the Women's gym with the old ladies who spend 30 minutes huffing, puffing, and gossiping their way from machine to cardio pad to machine and so on each morning, afternoon, and night.  There are mornings - like this one - when I'm more entertained by the hour it takes me to run there, do the circuit, properly stretch and supplementally lift some freeweights, and run back to Elsworth, than I am even by the hours I spend watching SMASH on the treadmill or arc trainer at NYSC.  And that makes the dual memberships more than worth it.

Today as I was leaving, I saw the 5'6" husband of about a 5'1" woman who'd been on the circuit with me asking the other ladies whether they'd caught the games last night and giving her all on the handfull of machines she's able to do without hurting her back or knees - she was a looker but somewhat worse for the wear,  a cancer survivor I gathered from conversation she made.  This woman was probably in her late 70s, and her husband, in his Red Sox wind breaker, reading a newspaper, in the hallway just outside the door of the women-only fitness center, had to be up there as well.  He walked in with her and asked "all clear?" of the dressing room before going in to grab the folding chair he was sitting on in the hall, and he exchanged pleasantries with the ladies coming and going in the time his wife spent working out.  And she told one of the other ladies, she was trying to come every morning this week.

And as I left the little gym to set off on my run back to my parents' house (I'm in Newton to see the FINAL Naugler graduate from NNHS tonight at Conte Forum due to the same seemingly annual rain that sent the other 4 of us indoors for graduation ceremonies in '02, '04, '06, and '10) I'll be darned if I did't say a little prayer asking to someday have that sort of support.  A little cheerleader of a husband, who'd sit outside reading the paper to pass the time but really to make sure I was alright still working out into my 80s.

Amazing.  Adorable.  A long way off.

In the meanwhile, I saw Snow White and the Huntsman with my mom and dad two nights ago (after sending the bambina sorella off to her prom with Prince Jake, her bf) and *spoiler alert* the last scene was BOSS (an expression I have picked up hanging out with my little sisters and their friends the past few days).  Why? You ask. Because breaking the mold, this fairytale retelling did not wrap up with the princess & prince (or hunky huntsman Chris Hemsworth who's true love kiss woke her face up, or duke/best guy friend William who wouldn't lose her a second time) living happily ever after.  It ended with Snow White (a less annoying Kristen Stewart than I was expecting) being like, simmah down people, I've got a kingdom to run.  I'll get around to picking which of these dreamboats I want to spend the rest of my life running it with when I get my own ish together.

Sigh.

It's good to be back, blogosphere.

I believe I can fly

because I am a child of the affirmation nation generation.  And because I dreamt I could two nights ago.

I think I'm hanging up my writer's cap for a while though.

I've gotta focus.

I wrote the book.  I'm running the marathon.  I'm married to Manhattan.

this has been cute.  and fun at times.  like when I shared my list and landed the interview with lady Dr. Oz.

but if I'm really going to spread my wings and take off it's gotta be sans this little bloggerino.

it's gotta be for realz.

So in my stead I leave you this fun time filler:

http://whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com/

Good for more than a few laughs. Trrrrust me.

and chances are I'll come back to the blogosphere one of these days.

But for now, I'll chirp to the world and write exclusively in emails, word docs, letters and my journals.

Once upon a time...

What I mean to say is

One of these days I'll find a bed, a chair and a bowl of porridge that's juuuuuust right.

Like, one of these days I'll know I've come upon just the right home, just the right job, and the just the right combination of the cookie and clean diet to keep me thin, perfect skinned, and fully satisfied.

It's gonna be great.

In the meanwhile I sample.

How to...

be the next UCB girl on SNL. Got your notepads ready?

Elizabeth Taylor's Video Will	UCBcomedy.com
Watch more comedy videos from the twisted minds of the UCB Theatre at UCBcomedy.com

I know I know

I'm living a lackluster existence amidst marathon training, bridesamaiding, improv-studying, and vagina monologuing. 


I'm officially back on the market now that it's Spring, so I anticipate having tales to regale with once I've got some first dates under my belt by May, but in the meantime, here is the only place I find it appropriate to quote blogger Amy Davidson (from The New Yorker)'s piece in The Political Scene today, which summarizes what I think I fell in love with in The Hunger Games:


"Katniss learned to hunt because her father died in a mining accident, and she basically spends three books mulling over the realization all children have that death is real, and irrevocable. (One problem, as Collins makes clear, is that Katniss, for most of the series, hasn’t had the same revelation about the solidity of love.) She is able to be the moral center of the story because, as the plot becomes increasingly political, and the other characters are caught up in tactical discussions and propaganda campaigns and battle plans, she hasn’t been able to get over her amazement at that simple truth. Maybe no one should."


Sigh.

It's the week of

The Hunger Games Premier Y'all!

Usually when I have a performance in a matter of days, my excitement for the stage time trumps anything else on the horizon, but this week, I'm way more anxious for it to be Sunday when I'll have my Vagina Monologue shows, my last pre-marathon 20 mile run and my hosting for the weekend under my belt and be able to plop myself down in a theatre for 142 minutes of magnificent movie watching.

Don't get me wrong, I cannot wait to have my grandparents and two best friends come to town Friday!  And I am as proud a vagina warrior as ever - as delighted to be delivering the Happy Fact to friends and strangers in the audience as one can be.  I'm spending an ample amount of time planning my water stops and gu ingestion for the 20 miler I'll do midday Sun.

I'm just so excited to see Suzanne Collins' world brought to life on the big screen.  It's like I picked THE perfect time to jump on the book's bandwagon.

And sometimes great timing is enough to celebrate.

26.2

I'm running THE Boston Marathon in 33 days.

33 DAYS!!!

And I've been all fallderall and fiddlydee as of late but I just stopped to take a second and let the reality of this situation set in, and I'm feeling so much better for having done so.

Running a mile is a major accomplishment for probably an embarrassing majority of people, and racing be it in a 5k or Jingle Run or Half Marathon or skipping competition's really pretty impressive, lots of people are runners by nature, by trade or by happenstance and I know there are plenty of folks who run multiple marathons in their lifetime, but none of that changes the fact that Boston is revered and that checking this "project" off my bucket list will be quite a remarkable feat.

There was a time just three or four years ago when I'd never run more than four miles.

And there will be thousands of people lining the roads from Hopkington to Boston both cheering along the runners and being reminded that anything is possible if you put your mind to it and approach it one foot in front of the other.

GAH!

That's awesome.

This is the start of something big and THIS is the jacket I'll be sporting super soon:

Mad about Meryl

In a good way.

I've gotten Meryl in the celebrity look alike game, and it's off putting as an early 20something, but as I settle into this side of the slope toward the big 3-0, I'm embracing it.

I can't embed the clip, but check her out winning her oscar for Sophie's Choice back in the day.

I mean she's frumpy but fabulous.  And so confident yet warm.  C'mon - there are worse celebs to be compared to.

This Fall I was embodying Renee Zellweger AS Bridget Jones.  And this past weekend I watched that movie for the first time in ten years or so... Took notes ala the time I got drunk watching The Holiday this winter, and while they're less quippy in light of my being less boozy (read: I gave up drinking for Lent), they're note and thus blogworthy.

...


- Bridget Jones's flannel penguin PJs are frighteningly similar to the flannel frog pajamas my mom gave me 2 x-mases ago joking, "because you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince" and that I wear on the reg
- BJ's weight is 136lbs at the start of the movie
- Ha, she works in publicity like my old chiaccherona roomie
- the best friend of hers we first meet in the bathroom PROB inspired JK Rowling's Moaning Myrtle and I thiiiink is the same actress who plays her in the subsequent HP movies
- Gaius is one of the "urban fam" members!
- Love the airkiss that her mum has for Bridget vs. the cheek kisses the would-be gay shopping network friend garners... very "Mama K" (my mother's theatreworld persona)
- "This can't be just shagging - a minibreak means true love"  -  the pitfall of expectations going into every weekend in the country with a special manfriend
- BJ's crying in the tub is the exact reason I don't take baths
- Colin First's kick move in the Hugh Grant fight is the nail in my coffin of undying love for him

Obsession List

Currently it's like my brain cannot even attempt real reflection and or offers of insight.

SO.

I give you my list of obsessions since the start of the year.  Some thought marathon matters would monopolize my mindspace in the months leading up to Boston 2012, but in fact, when I have not been working or running or spending time with fam & friends, I've been wrapping my mind around:

SMASH

Downton Abbey

and

The Hunger Games

And I must say, I haven't felt so fully entertained since LOST was in my life on a regular basis.

I devoured Suzanne Collins three books in a matter of days, I long for Season 3 of Downton, and I'm embarrassingly excited to be planning workouts around watching Smash at the gym.

Currently I'm writing from a babysitting apartment the likes of which I so want to secret.  Suffice it to say guests at the parents' wedding were Naomi Watts and Rose Byrne.

Found out tonight through wikipediaing that Amy Poehler was born in good old Newton, MA... how do you like them apples?

Go girl

A phrase I've warmed up to in recent years is "You go, girl."

I remember it coming onto the scene.  I feel like it's most like Oprah who popularized it.

And I tried pretty hard to keep it out of my personal middle classed white girl vernacular.

But my boss lady says it on the reg, and in marathon training I've heard it time and again from a range of sisterfriends, as it were, so try as I might, I've caved under the pressure of appreciation.

I feel oddly and unquestionably empowered doling out or receiving the encouragement  and what harm is there in that?

Tale as old as time

Sort of.

I had thought I might write a post for every day of February as this month started out and then my brain just basically shut itself off the day after the day after the Superbowl.

So there were two weeks there where I was like 24/7:

I call it February Fritz.  I was on it big time.

And now, I've checked out for another reason altogether...  2 weekend days, 2 work days, and 35 miles of running stand between me and my flight to FLORIDA, Wednesday at the crack of dawn.

Among things I'm putting out in the Universe at the moment is the opportunity to write for http://thegloss.com/.  Among things I'm going to try to dissect over butterbeer and whatnot with my best gf's, who will all be in Orlando with me to run The Disney Princess Half Marathon a week from Sunday, is how I can undo the lasting impact of my longtime love for Disney movies ala Beauty & the Beast.  As these writers point out, the cartoons clearly lead young ladies astray: http://thegloss.com/odds-and-ends/the-editors-discuss-what-we-learned-about-relationships-from-beauty-the-beast-889/

How oh how oh how

did I miss this!??

http://www.nbc.com/the-tonight-show/the-tonight-show/nbcs-brotherhood-of-man/

I party hopped from a Superbowl Party? where the theme was America and the hosts threw orange bandana flags on any "plays" that involved party guests yelling anything other than "Go Sports!!"  to an intimate viewing party of 5 gays & me.

Catching this 3minutes and 50 second spot would have softened the blow of the Pats' loss but alas...

The bff and I were having a two person sing off in my tower on the UUWS from 6 - 6:30, so we missed pre-game programming.

True story.

For shame.

I see more changes

Well, I see one.  Made one.

No longer writing about being a princess or nomad so much as I am going to about being a baller-ina.

Tweeted and/or fb posted this convo I had with my non-bestfriend and ACK roomie where I asked if it's possible for a girl to be a baller, and he said of course, and that they call those ballerinas.

I'm owning that.

I've had an American Express gold card for five years now.  I'm not playing around here.  I'm getting shit done.

I'm practically an Avenger.  Good God I love Robert Downey Junior.  Is it May 4th yet?  3 months.

The In Crowd

Will it ever go out of style?

I'm really not sure.

I shouldn't out her, but everyone's favorite MamaNaugs called me practically bubbling over with excitement last week when she received an invite to a "Girls Night In" with some of the Newton moms she always says she wishes she could be better friends with.  And for those who are keeping track, she's pushing 49 and feeling fine (last year's surprise breakfast party was in honor of her hitting 48 and feeling great).

My Nanny Janny always prides herself on being tight lipped but probably would have turned in to a gossip back in her day if she'd known it would have landed her on the Football Cheerleading Squad instead of just the Ice Hockey one.  (Amazing fact about my maternal grandparents, they both held coveted positions on illustrious teams of yore: said cheerleading squad on ice and Brandeis' Football - undefeated since 1959 when the team was disassembled).

And here I am an example of frailty... strong, independent, NYNaugs, all excited because I got emails today inducting me to two online societies of note: improvteams.com and that sparkology site I wrote about two days ago.  Practically a plastic!

In like Flynn, as they say.  Poor Gretchen.  Always trying to make fetch happen.

I say "ciao for now"

fairly often, generally genuinely, and to just about anyone I'm ending a conversation with but likely to chat with again before long.

I think this is working against me when it comes to my finding my funny.

I'm in musical improv right now at a rival improvisational school of my beloved House of Amy Poehler aka UCB, and I get the impression I am significantly less negative than several of my comedy classmates particularly in said musical class but perhaps across the board at these comedy schools.  

I don't want to be too sunshiney but at the same time, I'm not really one to gripe, hold a grudge or dwell, and according to The Comedy Bible, jokes come from musing on what's weird, stupid, hard or scary about anything and everything under the sun that is experienced and thus relatable, so it's a strange challenge to feel compelled to find things to whine about.

Actually as I just typed that I realized that if you play the weird, stupid or scary angles you don't necessarily have to whine while doing so.

And so maybe - huzzah!!  I can find my funny afterall, even IF I use cheesy sayings on the regular.  Like "ciao for now" and "okie doke" and "gotcha!" (always with an exclamation point).

Tonight I played the weird card when asked to make up a song on the spot about Bubbles.  I went full throttle into a country tune inviting a fella over for a bubble bath and it was a hit.

One step or trot at a time as the case may be.

Back from hiatus

The writer in me had to do some reading, the actress in me had to do some scene study, and the nomad in me had to bounce between New York and Newton twice in the last two weeks of January for two of the four final performances of my baby sisterfriend at the infamous NNHS.  I think there's one Jubilee Singers concert and one last Pops Night in June standing between my family and our official graduation from the 12 years of high school extracurricular activities we've partaken in.  Indeed, the end of an era.

What brings me back to my soap box, you ask?  Evolution.  And specifically, the evolution of dating sites.  Two of my BC modmates sent me this link this morning:  http://mashable.com/2012/01/31/sparkology/

And one can only wonder whether the next chapter in my fairytale is to be told with the help of an elitist bunch of yentas.  The graphics are priceless, no?  My kind of straight to the point cartoons.

For anyone that's counting I've received 5 Save The Dates for 2012, and it's just the first of February.  Love actually IS all around.  In the meantime, I am 21 days away from flying to Florida with four of my favorite Nook Girls for the Walt Disney World Princess Half Marathon.  And that about brings you up to speed.

More musings to come as the month moves right along.

Pricks abroad / Prince Charmings here in NYC

Two nights ago I went to see the Ides of March with my modmate and Milan travel buddy.  Sigh, Ryan Gosling, how do I love thee?

Anyway, this modmate and I had lamented when we were touring Italy and Switzerland last Fall the fact that there are pricks abroad similar to the ones we've come across and dated periodically here in the States as if you can't meet a dreamboat in storybook Europe, where can you expect to find one?

But doing our best to orange buzz in the new year, we actually spent a good deal of time chatting post movie at the whimsically named West Village pub, Pint of No Return, about the Charmings we've had the pleasure of being cheered up by in the past week or so.

You see, she was being wisked away to Chi-town by her very own Mr. Big, who also happens to be taking her to Per se the next time he's in town (so Mr. Big of him, right?), and I was with two other BC gals last Monday, who had only JUST made the observation that there appeared to be not a single chivalrous guy in Manhattan by contrast to the South and Midwest where they're dwelling these days, when an uber kind cutie offered me his spot on the Jitney so I could get to Jersey at the same time as my girls.  He could take a later bus, he said, I should go with my friends.

So sweet right?  And then later another young chap helped me not fall on my face while riding the subway in a precarious spot out of reach of any poles to hold onto, and even when I stepped (hard) on his foot, he reached his arm out behind me to be sure I didn't topple as the train jerked into the crowded station, so I thanked him for his help on my way out making him chuckle, and chocked another one up on the scorecard of this city of singles.

Turns out there are a handful of chivalrous guys in the Big Apple it's just that their gentility's in their little gestures.   Pricks abound abroad and Stateside, but it's important to stop and point out the princes in our midst, because daily interactions with them are paving the way to our happy endings.

Thank you wellness tea

Celestial Seasonings makes this amazing tea I first discovered in the Fall of 2008 fresh off the bus from Boston, and it is by far one of the best things 2012 has brought into my life so far.

I grew up wearing faux fur hats and stoles to tea parties with my neighbors and friends, having been taught how to enjoy a cup of tea by my great grandmother (Nana Rose) as early as I was taught just about anything else, and nothing beats two heaping spoonfulls of sugar in a well steeped cup of Red Rose or Lipton tea heavy on the whole milk as well, but the start of 2012's about scaling back the indulgence (yet again), and truth be told there's something to this brew that's just plain magical.

My year kicked off in the best of company, with laughter, lots of important, inspiring and insightful conversations, and making the most of my days off to explore Manhattan over the course of the holidays.  Who could ask for anything more?

It is, in fact, well with my soul.  Sing it, bro.