Conversations about a Cheesegimp

FRY: Oh. He gets -1 point for smoking.

ME: Yeah. But he gets +10 million points for being generally awesome.

FRY: Totally.

---

MAZZ: Would you look at them?

ME: I know. They are completely destroying my cynical outlook on romance and love.

MAZZ: Tell me about it.

---

LUKE: Well, we have to haze him.

ME: Actually, we don't. We're not the fraternity of Di Kappa Retarded.

LUKE: We can't just let him come in date Renee without seeing what he's made of.

ME: (hesitant to admit that he's got a small point) Just....go easy on him, OK?

LUKE: Fuck that. We're going in all Boondock Saints, "And Shepherds we shall be for thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti."

ME: Oh my fucking god.

HAVEN: No, we can't do that -- Renee doesn't know Boondock Saints.

ME: Really?

HAVEN: Nope, she fell asleep in the middle of it.

ME: Even with Willem Dafoe gaying it up and generally ROCKING OUT throughout the film?

HAVEN: She fell asleep.

ME: How is that possible?

LUKE: Well, whatever. We'll go in like Pulp Fiction then. "All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!...Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!"

ME: Oh my fucking god. This is exactly what Renee was afraid of.

---

HAVEN: (jumping out from behind the door jam and brandishing a water gun) YOUR CROTCH LOOKS HOT AND LIKE IT COULD USE SOME COOLING OFF!!! (begins firing water gun)

CHEESEGIMP: GAH! (laughter)

MIKE: (Yells something incomprehensible and begins firing his water gun)

CHEESEGIMP: (excessive laughter and screeching, the way one does when confronted by a sneak attack of water guns upon opening the door while completely unarmed)

ME: Heeeeee! Sorry. Our friends are twelve.

CHEESEGIMP: That was awesome! It made me feel like one of the gang.

ME: Aw.

LUKE: See? I told you we should haze him.

ME: Shut up.

---

ME, TO ANYONE WHO WOULD LISTEN: Oh, I adore him. He's perfect for her. Pardon me while my pancreas flops out from overload about sweet they are together.

---

Cheesegimp, you have whole-heartedly won our seal of approval. For cradling a tipsy Renee, for handling all of Haven's bizarre questions with general aplomb, for taking Amy's embarrassing questionnaire in stride, for declaring Yuengling "tasty", for being a good sport about our water attack, for rocking out on the Wii, for your fabulous loud laugh that mingled in perfectly with all of ours. But most of all for making Renee very very happy, just like she deserves to be.

P.S. — Happy 26th birthday, Renee. Every year that goes by makes me even more thankful that we're friends.

Like, thanks for the stomach ulcer. No, REALLY.

I now present an actual phone call between your blogger and her roommate Mike, who is currently visiting family in Montana.

ME: Hey, how's Montana?

MIKE: Pretty good, listen: I just talked to the guy about the condo. Turns out his in-law really needed a place to live, so he got it instead. So it looks like you're stuck with me!

ME:...Uh...?

MIKE: And since I'm staying I think we should steam-clean the carpets.

ME: Um, OK, I guess.

MIKE: And I ordered a new couch and recliner. I think we should move the sofa we have to the side room and put the new stuff in the living room. Oh, and I want you to go half-and-half on the matching love seat with me. It's only something like $400.

*Sound of my head exploding*

FIN

Goodnight, Dr. Jackman

Furthering my addiction to BBC America, my new favorite show is Jekyll.

People. This show is SO GOOD. I know, I scoffed inwardly at it too. I mean, a remake of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? And following on the heels on the snooze-worthy Robin Hood I just didn't have a lot of hope for it. But, it stars Gina Bellman from Coupling and James Nesbitt, whose Irish-accented voice I could listen to all day. And then Stephanie was talking about Hex, which I never quite got into and mentioned that we should both watch Jekyll so we could talk about it. And then Thursday night I was bored, anxious, and lonely and looking for distraction and the first episode was On Demand, so why the hell not?

No lie, I think at one point I said out loud to Dill, the only living thing in the vicinity, "Holy shit."

Aside from being really well written and suspenseful, James Nesbitt rocks my world. He owns this role. His performance is just mind blowing — he is so creepy as Mr. Hyde, so convincing as tormented Dr. Jackman. There's a scene in the first episode where we see Mr. Hyde for the first time, and he's in this alleyway with a young girl making lewd comments, smile leery and wide, enjoying her panic and fright, "Let's play lions! No, don't run. Not while we're playing lions. Do you know what runs?" His voice drops low and he pulls her close taking time to eye her, "Food runs." And cue the shivers going down my spine.

I'm not doing that scene justice either. It's a damn good show, you guys. You should check it out.

Some observations at too late on a Sunday evening

• I can never ever travel to anywhere in the U.K. Know why? Because ten minutes off of the plane, I would be pregnant. British, Scottish, Welsh, and especially Irish accents are so dead sexy, I just don't know what to do with myself. Well, actually, I know exactly what to with myself, if you catch my drift.
  
  
• Shout out to Pete, whose accent made me realize it. Seriously, man. If you didn't have a super cute, smart, amazing wife whom I rather like, I would be all up ons. You had me at, "Bugger all, yeah?"
  
  
• I am totally going to your next cricket match. I am going to score me a bloke with an accent.
  
  
• Brian actually asked me "What's this? New man in your life?" to which I laugh and laugh and laughed my fool head off and responded, "You realize you're talking to ME, right?"

Crap Dudes

In an effort to not stress the fuck out so much — which, seriously, I'd love some heroin right about now. Anyone? — I've retreated into that wonderful abyss known as the internet. I spent an obscene amount of time on trashy celebrity gossip sites the past two days, because life may be slightly sucky right now, but at least I'm not running around town with greasy hair, no pants, and ill-fitting pirate boots while my loser skeeze of an ex-husband is making a better impression on the powers that be for child custody. You know. Unlike other people. Always look at the bright side of life.

Anyway. This morning I was surfing around Jezebel when lo, I came to their feature Crap Email From A Dude. The Redhead introduced me to this feature, and God do I love it. Mainly because it serves as a reminder that I am truly better off single since there are so many damn knobs out there.

Post-reading the Crap Emails From A Dude I thought it would be hysterical to see some of the responses from the females they are sent to, really cutting, sharp, witty responses that put these tools in their place.

And then I remembered. I may not have had a crap email from a dude, but I did have a crap phone call from a dude about a year and a half ago. And while I was polite and incredulous on the phone, I fired back via the internet in the passive-aggressive form of my blog. My blog then promptly broke. So no one saw it. Luckily, I managed to salvage it because I was cross posting to Xanga at the time.

The letter is from the Prince Fucking Charming debacle, a mere 24 hours prior to me discovering that he was using me to cheat on his girlfriend. The story of how I discovered this (for the three or four of you who still don't know the sordid tale) is for another time.


----


Dear Guy Who I Have a Date With on Friday,

You and I spoke for about 45 minutes last night. Allow me to give you a critique of our conversation:

1) When discussing our age differences (me being six years your junior), it is not proper to talk down to me, as if I am in junior high. I get it: I'm younger than you. But I also have a college education and have been living independently for 2 years*. I'm a grown up too.

2) While on the subject of our age differences, I asked if you were OK with dating someone who was younger. You replied with, "Being 24 means that you just haven't hit your prime yet." GWIHDWF, allow me to say to you now what I did not say when you said this to me: ew. You make me sound like un-ripened fruit or something. Not the way to my heart. Also: Asshole.

3) Still on the subject of me not being in my sexual "prime," you said about how you can "instruct me." Oh, okay, suuuuure. Allow me to give you some instruction: When you kiss someone, it is not an invitation to SUCK THEIR FACE, which is what you did to me last week when we hooked up. Ok, like the slow sexy lip suck can be very sensual, but dude, for real: Not every single time, and not with the power of a hoover. Gentle exploring with the tongue, please. And fuck off.

4) At some point in the conversation, completely un-ironically and not particularly joking like, you mentioned that you'd "put [me] in [my] place and show [me] who was boss." A note to you and to all other guys trying to woo a girl: DON'T EVER SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT. Man, you know, I already felt how big your wang is through your pants on the dance floor. You don't need to continue to "prove" your "manhood" to me. Also, I am the biggest, most stubborn, brattiest, bitch. I fucking dare you to try to "put me in my place."

5) Yes, I hooked up with you on a dance floor in a bar while tipsy. Not my classiest moment. But, nor was it yours. Please, let's move beyond thunderdome and stop with the lame innuendos. All of your innuendos were predictable and kind of creepy. Innuendos should be sly, unexpected, and should make me smile and maybe blush slightly. Not roll my eyes, sigh, and cringe, which is what I did 80% of the time when you made them.

6) It is creepy, not to mention bad manners, to invite yourself over to my house. We were talking while you were driving home from work and you asked about where I lived, borderline asking for directions. When I continued to be purposely vague about it since you were so fucking transparent and I could tell what you were trying to do, you told me, "Well I guess I can't come over and surprise you right now." Damn straight. You know why? Because I didn't invite you over! Because I barely know you. And a alcohol infused fumble at a singles mixer does not a trusting relationship make.

7) Yeah, I'm bitchy, picky, and I have fucking high standards. I know what I want. Last Thursday I wanted a hook up. I got one. Today, I want to go back in time to Sunday and un-call you.

8) The more we talk, the less I am attracted to you.

9) I am only having dinner with you on Friday in the hopes that you'll redeem yourself.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Passive-aggressively,

EightK

---

*Hysterical Footnote: I discovered after the fact that he was 30 and still living with his parents. Lord, what a douche.

Me and My Effing Big Mouth

"So, now that you've eaten..."

"Oh, it was delicious. Thanks for making dinner."

"You're welcome," he shifted on the couch to face me, lowering the volume on the TV with the remote as he did so. "I've got good news and bad news."

My heart started pounding. "Oh God," I said, dropping my knife onto my plate. "Out with it." But he didn't have to say. I already knew.

"My boss has this condo that he's renovated. And the guy who was going to rent it is backing out. My boss wants me to take it over. For, like, super cheap."

A very long pause.

"So you're leaving?"

"There's a 97% chance, yeah. Things will be more settled after this weekend and I'll have a clearer picture."

"What's the good news?"

"Well, it's lower rent, new building with central air, closer to work."

"That's good for YOU. What about ME?"

"Oh..." Another long pause.

"Fucking wanker. I need this like I need a hole in my head."

"Sorry. It's a good opportunity for me. I don't want to leave you in a lurch or anything. So I'll continue paying rent until you can replace me. Unless you move out too..."

"Why does everyone want to leave me? Am I that hard to live with? I mean, OK, I know I hog the TV sometimes and leave my dishes in the sink, but really?"

"No, it's...Obviously if Kelly were still living here and it was the three of us, I would turn it down. But now...it's different."

"Oh," I said with an air of teasing, "I see. You like Kelly better than me."

"No," he shot back, a little too quickly. Yes, my brain mentally answered. I wasn't offended though. Even I like Kelly better than me.

"OK. Well...I guess I'll figure something out." I went to the kitchen and began clattering around, loading the dishwasher, cleaning up from dinner, wiping down the table. He followed me. "Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you. It's just," I turned to face him, flicking dishtowel down on the counter, "I've got so much going on right now. Work is really stressful. We're not having much luck finding a replacement for me. I'm trying to slog through a lot of crap so that when we do find someone I can move over to Production seamlessly. I haven't even really begun the Editorial Conference Videos at all yet and the conference is in October. Everyone is talking me up so I have all this pressure to just be awesome. My class ends this week and I have a term paper due next week, I still don't have a topic for it yet, much less started it. Then I have two weeks or so until the fall semester starts. I'm worried about money. I'm sad because Kelly left. I'm trying to help out the Doc. And I literally just told the landlord that we're not breaking the lease, so now I look like an asshole. And," I added, putting my hands on my hips, "I'm about to get my period any minute. You couldn't have chosen a worse time to spring this on me."

"Sorry."

"No, I...you have to do what's right by you. I can't blame you for that. I just feel abandoned."

We talked a bit more, tentatively forming plans. After we were done, I hopped in the car and drove to Exton. I was at the intersection of Rt.252 and Rt.30 when I lost it, bursting into tears. First Kelly and now Mike. I felt like shit. I felt unloved. I felt completely overwhelmed. But by the time I got to Exton I had pulled it together.

I pulled into the Blockbuster and walked into talk to Gary. He's interested in moving in with me, provided that certain details get finalized. So there's a plan. Things will be OK. I'll get through this.

Whatever. I'm getting drunk now.

Oddsbodkins

So very much has been going on here, a lot of which I was unable or unwilling to talk about since it was über sekrit or I didn’t want to jinx things, or else it was just whiny and depressing. And now I feel like I’ve been keeping things from you, which, it’s not that I don’t trust you. Please don’t think that. I know if you want to keep something low-key you should post it for 50 bizillon people on the intrawebs to read.

Anyway.

First, The Cartoonist announced he was leaving the company. Which made me sad, due to our retarded history (…shut up…) of sitting across from one another and wasting time by throwing paper airplanes. And then the big move happened and he changed cubes and kind of acted like a dink because apparently if you’re no longer in someone’s eye-line you don’t talk to them ever again. Whatever. So him leaving the company was no big surprise, is what I’m saying. Still, him leaving left the Production department in a bit of turmoil since they have had, like, zero turnover in the past 5 years and The Cartoonist chose possibly the most inopportune time to leave. Then my boss called me and said, “Hey, you’re going to have to step up and help out over there for the next couple of weeks.” Which I had planned on doing anyway.

THEN. A certain someone got the brilliant and sneaky idea to just replace The Cartoonist with me. Meaning I would leave my pub and move over to the “core” publications of the company and work on multiple mini-pubs and other fancy production stuff. And then they offered me a bit more money. That, coupled with chance to work in close quarters with awesome people who I am quite fond of, made me accept. So I’ve been promoted, kind of. I am now Supreme Goddess of Production, Overseer of All That is Good And Well-Designed (official title). And since one of the new duties I’ll be taking over is business cards for everyone in the company, I’m totally putting that on my card. Miss J is so going to regret this.

Deep breath. This means that I now have to help hire and then train my replacement before I can move over fully and begin being trained to take over the core pubs of the company. This so far, has not been going well. Mainly because the candidates have been less than stellar. The girl I was supposed to interview this morning cancelled on us. And the guy we were interviewing a week and half ago…he was special. Prior to the interview I got the brilliant idea to look him up on MySpace. PEOPLE. SERIOUSLY. If you’re applying for a job, make your profile private. Aside from the fact that his pictures either showed him drunk out of his mind or half naked (nice abs, dude), he referred to himself as “Captain Awesome” and his profile page was ass-ugly with crazy backgrounds and 40,000 plug-ins and widgets and nearly made me have a seizure. Which begs the question – if you can’t even make your damn myspace page look nice what the hell kind of designs are you going to do on this pub? Still, because I’m kind of an evil bitch I was looking forward to the actual interview so I could surreptitiously taunt him. (“Why I see that you have a lot of experience using InDesign as well as the entire Adobe Creative Suite. I’m impressed. You’re just like, this captain of awesomeness.”) But then he completely bombed our prepress quiz (really basic stuff too) so Miss J and forced the HR director to send him packing before we even got the chance to shake his hand. Ah, well, I’ll save my bitchiness for another day.

Meanwhile, I’ve been running around quietly spazzing out trying to figure out my living arrangements since Mike had been rather non-committal about not breaking the lease. Finally I up and made an executive decision and called our landlord and told them we were officially staying for another year. It’s finalized, in my head at least. But come this time next year I’ll probably be looking for my own apartment, sans roommates. Which scares the ever-loving shit out of me, but whatever. I’ll get over it.

This past weekend Kelly officially moved out, and as the time was drawing closer and closer, I got both more sad and nostalgic than I thought I would. Like, I knew I would be sad, obviously, but I didn’t realize how some things would really hit me. Like the time I came in and all the plants were gone from the kitchen. I have a black thumb so Kelly is the one who takes care of and maintains all the plant things. She’s so good at it, too. I didn’t realize how accustomed I’d become to being surrounded by leafy green things until they were gone. I literally damn near cried about losing those plants (although, obviously not about the plants). And then, the past month (most noticeably at The Fair) I kept hearing myself say things like, “Remember when…” and then launch into ridiculous stories about how we laughed that one time.

Because we did. We laughed a lot. And she was a damn good roommate. And now she’s gone, and sure she’s only like 3 blocks away, but things are just different now. And our apartment looks and feels oh so empty. And I’m sad.











Kelly, you and I had a good run. I miss having you as my roommate already.

God, I have a million other things to tell you. About dancing, about class, about my company's softball team which is offically ROCKING OUT in the playoffs, about new work friends, and exciting travel news. Stay tuned.

Shhhhh....

One of my secrets is in this movie.




I'm not telling you which one.

You Don't Really Want to Know What We Ate This Weekend

But I'm going to tell you anyway. Oh yes, friends. It was Sussex County Fair '07. The one time of year where we embrace our fat rolls of sadness and just pack it away. Final tally of what we ate (please note this is the whole group, although make no mistake, we individually ate a lot) is as follows:

• Roasted Corn
  
• Baked potatoes of the Lord
  
• Watermelon of God
  
• Honey sticks
  
• Turkey leg
  
• Fried Oreos
  
• Corn Dog
  
• Chili Dog
  
• Fudge
  
• Frozen Banana
  
• Chicken Fries
  
• London Broil Sandwich
  
• Watermelon from Watermelon Eating Contest
  
• Cotton Candy
  
• Zeppoli
  
• Kettle Corn
  
• Gyro
  
• Chicken Pita
  
• Beef Jerky
  
• Ice cream
  
• Milkshake

I KNOW. My body is still detoxing. I'm on a celery and distilled water diet for the next 3 weeks. I was thisclose to taking my camera into the fair grounds to document all of gluttony, but at the last minute decided it was not for the faint of heart and that you didn't really want to see photographic evidence of Mike wolfing down a chili dog. Or me going face first into a slice of watermelon. Plus, it was approximately 600° outside and I really didn't feel like schlepping it around for 7 hours.

Just like last year, post-fair we went back to Kelly's parent's house and, uh, deep fried things to continue to gorge ourselves. LOOK, STOP JUDGING ME. I KNOW. WE'RE SICK FATSOS. BUT IT WAS ALL DELICIOUS. I REGRET NOTHING! Ahem. We also had the chocolate fountain. Oh, yes.



That chocolate was so, so good. Kelly's mom went to the store and bought us about a zillion things to dip into the chocolate, anything you could think of, really. This led to Kelly's brother-in-law, Kenny, trying to make a fake s'more with some graham crackers and marshmallows.



But then, once constructed, how do you eat it?



Hmmm...



Wait! Almost!



And there you have it. That, my friends, is exactly what the New Jersey State Fair is all about.

Wherefor art thou?

Thou art in Clark Park, obviously. Well, if you're cool anyway.

Shakespeare in Clark Park begins tonight! Romeo and Juliet is the show, every night between tonight and Sunday, at 7pm. Did I mention it is FREE? Come, spread out a blanket, bring some wine and cheese, get some culture, baby.

Oh and did I mention who directed it? Guess!

If you guessed my brother, you win the magic codpiece! Go see it! Philadelphia Weekly makes the show an Editor's Pick, and since my brother directed it, you know it will be good. I myself am going to try to go see it on Sunday. See you there?

More info here.