Ten,
Nine,
Eight,
Seven,
Six,
Five,
Four,
Three,
Two,
and a.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I caved. But I got better.
Well, of course I caved. I predicted it.
But you know, it's very difficult for me to come up, quickly, with a tactful way of telling people that I think their idea sucks. At the idea of shopping with other people, my brain is too busy screaming "HATE!" for me to come up with an alternative activity that would please both parties. ("OK, think of something we could do instead--quick! Movie? Lunch? Museum? Historic house? Whale watching? Jell-OTM wrestling? THINK!") I get all overwhelmed and end up doing what the other person wants.
But I do hate shopping with other people. With so hard of a gem-like flame that I might substitute it for my hatred of Ann Coulter on my 100 things about Poppy list. But I am, as I said, a wuss. So when my sister asked whether I'd like to go to the outlets in Kittery, I said I would.
I even ended up in the Cuddledown outlet store, just as I predicted.
And I bought a lot of stuff. But enough about that.
Here's why I hate shopping with other people:
1. I don't go shopping often, and when I do, I spend a lot of money. An embarrassing amount. OK, I don't reenact the Rodeo Drive scene in Pretty Woman, but I spend plenty. It looks like some kind of crazy binge. It's kind of like the way a really skinny woman will order the Everything Nachos and a frozen Margarita, then get the combination enchilada plate, and finish with fried ice cream and coffee with Tia Maria and whipped cream. You don't know it, because you didn't see it, but for the past week all she's eaten is two Kashi bars and a Hershey's Kiss. The rest of the time, she lives on skim lattes. Well, I'm like that when I shop. I'm there, I actually tried on the clothes, and they fit, so why not? I mean, what am I supposed to do, drive all the way to Kittery to browse through racks of shit and not buy any of it? I might as well stay home and surf the web.
2. I hate spending time in stores that don't carry any merchandise I'm interested in. I think I spent 20 minutes in the Coldwater Creek store, and the whole time I was kicking myself for not bringing a book. And wondering how much a cornea transplant would cost, because OUCH MY EYES.
3. I hate bringing people who dislike the kind of merchandise I like into stores that carry it. I sense their boredom. Actually, I don't need to sense it; sometimes it's quite clear. I breezed through the Aging Hippy stores my sister likes with nary a word of complaint. (No, really. It's true. Why do you think I have a blog?) But then she called the stuff at the Dana Buchman/Ellen Tracy outlet "dowdy." And them's fighting words. Especially coming from my sister, who, trust me, is no Kate Moss. Or even Kate Hepburn.
Let me just add, though, that I did show some signs of developing a spine. For example, when my sister said Dana Buchman's clothes were dowdy, I mentioned--in the mildest manner possible--that these things are subjective, and that funnily enough, I felt the same way about broomstick skirts.
Which I somehow sensed she tended to buy. And wear. (And I was right.)
Also, I didn't actually answer when she mentioned that she was thinking about taking my family and our brother-in-law out to dinner last night. (I figured I deserved a night off from my siblings.)
And, to her suggestion that she, my other sister, and I should do a girl's day out on Friday, I remained staunchly non-committal. And then, I will probably use my husband as an excuse.
I will conclude today's whine-fest with a piece of advice to the single women out there: get married. Among its many other advantages, marriage offers you the single easiest way to be completely non-committal about every single thing under the sun.
Examples? You need examples? OK. To a contractor pushing for a signed contract, I'll say "I'll have to talk it over with my husband." To someone inviting us to a party: "I'll have to see whether Mr. Poppy is free that night." To a sister wanting to force me--at gunpoint if need be--to go out shopping with her again, "Sorry, Mr. Poppy has to go to Boston that day and I need to stay home with the kids."
But you know, it's very difficult for me to come up, quickly, with a tactful way of telling people that I think their idea sucks. At the idea of shopping with other people, my brain is too busy screaming "HATE!" for me to come up with an alternative activity that would please both parties. ("OK, think of something we could do instead--quick! Movie? Lunch? Museum? Historic house? Whale watching? Jell-OTM wrestling? THINK!") I get all overwhelmed and end up doing what the other person wants.
But I do hate shopping with other people. With so hard of a gem-like flame that I might substitute it for my hatred of Ann Coulter on my 100 things about Poppy list. But I am, as I said, a wuss. So when my sister asked whether I'd like to go to the outlets in Kittery, I said I would.
I even ended up in the Cuddledown outlet store, just as I predicted.
And I bought a lot of stuff. But enough about that.
Here's why I hate shopping with other people:
1. I don't go shopping often, and when I do, I spend a lot of money. An embarrassing amount. OK, I don't reenact the Rodeo Drive scene in Pretty Woman, but I spend plenty. It looks like some kind of crazy binge. It's kind of like the way a really skinny woman will order the Everything Nachos and a frozen Margarita, then get the combination enchilada plate, and finish with fried ice cream and coffee with Tia Maria and whipped cream. You don't know it, because you didn't see it, but for the past week all she's eaten is two Kashi bars and a Hershey's Kiss. The rest of the time, she lives on skim lattes. Well, I'm like that when I shop. I'm there, I actually tried on the clothes, and they fit, so why not? I mean, what am I supposed to do, drive all the way to Kittery to browse through racks of shit and not buy any of it? I might as well stay home and surf the web.
2. I hate spending time in stores that don't carry any merchandise I'm interested in. I think I spent 20 minutes in the Coldwater Creek store, and the whole time I was kicking myself for not bringing a book. And wondering how much a cornea transplant would cost, because OUCH MY EYES.
3. I hate bringing people who dislike the kind of merchandise I like into stores that carry it. I sense their boredom. Actually, I don't need to sense it; sometimes it's quite clear. I breezed through the Aging Hippy stores my sister likes with nary a word of complaint. (No, really. It's true. Why do you think I have a blog?) But then she called the stuff at the Dana Buchman/Ellen Tracy outlet "dowdy." And them's fighting words. Especially coming from my sister, who, trust me, is no Kate Moss. Or even Kate Hepburn.
Let me just add, though, that I did show some signs of developing a spine. For example, when my sister said Dana Buchman's clothes were dowdy, I mentioned--in the mildest manner possible--that these things are subjective, and that funnily enough, I felt the same way about broomstick skirts.
Which I somehow sensed she tended to buy. And wear. (And I was right.)
Also, I didn't actually answer when she mentioned that she was thinking about taking my family and our brother-in-law out to dinner last night. (I figured I deserved a night off from my siblings.)
And, to her suggestion that she, my other sister, and I should do a girl's day out on Friday, I remained staunchly non-committal. And then, I will probably use my husband as an excuse.
I will conclude today's whine-fest with a piece of advice to the single women out there: get married. Among its many other advantages, marriage offers you the single easiest way to be completely non-committal about every single thing under the sun.
Examples? You need examples? OK. To a contractor pushing for a signed contract, I'll say "I'll have to talk it over with my husband." To someone inviting us to a party: "I'll have to see whether Mr. Poppy is free that night." To a sister wanting to force me--at gunpoint if need be--to go out shopping with her again, "Sorry, Mr. Poppy has to go to Boston that day and I need to stay home with the kids."
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Internet, I hardly knew ye.
It's not like obsessed with my stats, but I do check them from time to time. OK, a couple times a day. And something strange has happened. Many of you nice visitors are here to find pictures of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy. I don't know why.
But I figured I might as well tell you something. She's not here.
(Seriously, people, has something else happened in the Kennedy camp? Why is everyone looking for pictures of John-John's wife?)
Also, I am not here. OK, I am, I just wish I weren't here, i.e., in my house, because I'd rather be here, i.e., on the internet.
I love my family quite a bit, considering how weird and attention-hogging they are. (I come by both characteristics quite naturally, thankyouverymuch.)
But I cooked a big Christmas dinner on Christmas. On the 27th I flew to NH, where the dishwasher is completely verfuckt. On the 29th four family members came over, and I prepared a glazed pork roast, potatoes Anna, green beans, salad, and ice cream with chocolate ganache and whipped cream. On the thirtieth my in-laws came by. On the 31st, New Year's Eve, my family descended again and we made lasagna and more salad and an apple pie. On New Year's Day other family members showed up and we made fried chicken, Hopping John, rice, sauteed Swiss Chard.
You remember that my dishwasher is dead, right?
Well, yesterday I spent about three hours in the kitchen until there wasn't a dirty dish or pan or pot anywhere, all the counters were shining, everything was put away, and it was House Beautiful-ready.
Today the dishwasher repairman came by, but he needs to get a part before the dishwasher will be fixed.
So I'm thinking, hey, paper plates until that sweet, sweet time arrives. AND NO MORE COOKING. AND NO MORE FAMILY except my cute husband and our demon spawn.
Then the phone rang. It was my sister wanting to know whether I wanted to go anywhere today. I played for time. The husband was out in the car, so I couldn't go anywhere, anyway.
The honest answer would have been, of course, "No, unless you mean back to bed, curled up in a fetal position."
But she likes to shop. She really, really likes to shop. So she'd interpret that remark to mean "I want to go to the Cuddledown Outlet store. Maybe they're having a sale!"
I'll probably cave. Before you know it, I'll be out shopping with my big sister.
But I figured I might as well tell you something. She's not here.
(Seriously, people, has something else happened in the Kennedy camp? Why is everyone looking for pictures of John-John's wife?)
Also, I am not here. OK, I am, I just wish I weren't here, i.e., in my house, because I'd rather be here, i.e., on the internet.
I love my family quite a bit, considering how weird and attention-hogging they are. (I come by both characteristics quite naturally, thankyouverymuch.)
But I cooked a big Christmas dinner on Christmas. On the 27th I flew to NH, where the dishwasher is completely verfuckt. On the 29th four family members came over, and I prepared a glazed pork roast, potatoes Anna, green beans, salad, and ice cream with chocolate ganache and whipped cream. On the thirtieth my in-laws came by. On the 31st, New Year's Eve, my family descended again and we made lasagna and more salad and an apple pie. On New Year's Day other family members showed up and we made fried chicken, Hopping John, rice, sauteed Swiss Chard.
You remember that my dishwasher is dead, right?
Well, yesterday I spent about three hours in the kitchen until there wasn't a dirty dish or pan or pot anywhere, all the counters were shining, everything was put away, and it was House Beautiful-ready.
Today the dishwasher repairman came by, but he needs to get a part before the dishwasher will be fixed.
So I'm thinking, hey, paper plates until that sweet, sweet time arrives. AND NO MORE COOKING. AND NO MORE FAMILY except my cute husband and our demon spawn.
Then the phone rang. It was my sister wanting to know whether I wanted to go anywhere today. I played for time. The husband was out in the car, so I couldn't go anywhere, anyway.
The honest answer would have been, of course, "No, unless you mean back to bed, curled up in a fetal position."
But she likes to shop. She really, really likes to shop. So she'd interpret that remark to mean "I want to go to the Cuddledown Outlet store. Maybe they're having a sale!"
I'll probably cave. Before you know it, I'll be out shopping with my big sister.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
On the Ninth Day of Blogmas, my true love gave to me
Eight,
Seven,
Six,
Five,
Four,
Three,
Two,
and a.
p.s. The fried chicken was a hit, and people had seconds of Hopping John. And then I did dishes for hours and hours and hours, or at least, it seemed that way. Leftovers for dinner, an episode of House and Clueless on the DVD player, much wine and no more visitors make for a happy Poppy.
p.p.s. Can you believe that Clueless came out 12 years ago? Yes, it really was that long ago that girls were running around in miniskirts and those tall socks (or were they short stockings) and saying "whatever." Oh, well. Whatever.
In case you're wondering what I gave my true love
OK, I gave the guy a present. It took me a while to get around to it, but at some point on the fifth or sixth day of Christmas, I went over to BestBuy and bought him this:
It's a Garmin Nuvi 660 GPS doohickey.
And he loves it. Which is good, because I don't want to go back to that store any time soon.
See, I don't know anything about GPSes, except that I was willing to bet my husband would love one. After all, he loves maps. He loves gadgets. Well, what could be more mappy and gadgety, right?
I didn't know the best model to buy, because actually waste time researching this? As if I could be bothered.
So I had to throw myself on the mercy of the BestBuy guy, the guy in the blue polo shirt who earns minimum wage and might have no superior knowledge of the product line whatsoever. So I buttonholed a salesman, and shoved a couple of guys out of the way ("Out of my way, looky-lous. I'm here to BUY SOMETHING," I think I remember saying.) I told the BestBuyGuy my price range and told him that I wanted the biggest screen with the most (and I quote) "mapping crap."
"Mapping crap?" he asked, while a couple of guys nearby turned their heads away to hide their grins. (Hey guys, so I don't know the correct terminology, so what? At least I'm not spending my life hanging around in front of a GPS display on a lovely Saturday afternoon, drooling over all the cool new features available in the most recently released model.
I mean, it was beginning to remind me of Hogwarts students checking out the latest brooms in that shop in Diagon Alley.)
Poppy: Yes, mapping crap. You know--I want to get the model with the most mapping data.
BestBuyGuy: OK. Do you want (unintelligible)?
Poppy: I'm sorry. I didn't hear that.
BBG: Do you want (unintelligible?)
Poppy: Excuse me? Could you repeat that?
BBG: (Unintelligible)? You want it to have boys wreck cognition?"
Poppy: Oh ... 'voice recognition.' You know what ... I don't know if that would be such a good idea. I mean, does the one you bought have voice recognition, and if so, does it have a hard time understanding you? Because I sure do.
OK, so this was probably the single wittiest remark I ever made in my life. Seriously, all these guys were laughing--and laughing with me, you know, not at me, which is probably a lot more likely to happen in a BestBuy store.
I mean, when I went to pay, I heard this guy repeating what I had said to the salesman, and the guy repeating it had a cleft palette or something that kept him from a career in broadcasting--and even he thought I was so funny that he forgot that maybe I should be more sensitive to people who might have a little trouble e-nun-ci-a-ting.
So the good news is that That Stud Muffin I Married loves his GPS very much. He went out the next day and deliberately got lost so it could get him home again.
Also, the guys at BestBuy think I am the funniest technophobic middle-aged woman they've ever met.
And I didn't have to pop for five golden rings.
It's a Garmin Nuvi 660 GPS doohickey.And he loves it. Which is good, because I don't want to go back to that store any time soon.
See, I don't know anything about GPSes, except that I was willing to bet my husband would love one. After all, he loves maps. He loves gadgets. Well, what could be more mappy and gadgety, right?
I didn't know the best model to buy, because actually waste time researching this? As if I could be bothered.
So I had to throw myself on the mercy of the BestBuy guy, the guy in the blue polo shirt who earns minimum wage and might have no superior knowledge of the product line whatsoever. So I buttonholed a salesman, and shoved a couple of guys out of the way ("Out of my way, looky-lous. I'm here to BUY SOMETHING," I think I remember saying.) I told the BestBuyGuy my price range and told him that I wanted the biggest screen with the most (and I quote) "mapping crap."
"Mapping crap?" he asked, while a couple of guys nearby turned their heads away to hide their grins. (Hey guys, so I don't know the correct terminology, so what? At least I'm not spending my life hanging around in front of a GPS display on a lovely Saturday afternoon, drooling over all the cool new features available in the most recently released model.
I mean, it was beginning to remind me of Hogwarts students checking out the latest brooms in that shop in Diagon Alley.)
Poppy: Yes, mapping crap. You know--I want to get the model with the most mapping data.
BestBuyGuy: OK. Do you want (unintelligible)?
Poppy: I'm sorry. I didn't hear that.
BBG: Do you want (unintelligible?)
Poppy: Excuse me? Could you repeat that?
BBG: (Unintelligible)? You want it to have boys wreck cognition?"
Poppy: Oh ... 'voice recognition.' You know what ... I don't know if that would be such a good idea. I mean, does the one you bought have voice recognition, and if so, does it have a hard time understanding you? Because I sure do.
OK, so this was probably the single wittiest remark I ever made in my life. Seriously, all these guys were laughing--and laughing with me, you know, not at me, which is probably a lot more likely to happen in a BestBuy store.
I mean, when I went to pay, I heard this guy repeating what I had said to the salesman, and the guy repeating it had a cleft palette or something that kept him from a career in broadcasting--and even he thought I was so funny that he forgot that maybe I should be more sensitive to people who might have a little trouble e-nun-ci-a-ting.
So the good news is that That Stud Muffin I Married loves his GPS very much. He went out the next day and deliberately got lost so it could get him home again.
Also, the guys at BestBuy think I am the funniest technophobic middle-aged woman they've ever met.
And I didn't have to pop for five golden rings.
100 Things for a new year
1. I didn't know how to drive until I was 35.
2. My family drives me crazy.
3. But that's OK; my in-laws drive me crazy, too.
4. It's nice to share things like that in a marriage.
5. One thing people never tell you about marriage is that being married is the only way you can get laid once you're no longer young and cute.
6. I'm not as cute as I used to be.
7. But I'm married.
8. I like being married.
9. I like getting laid.
10. I like my kids, too.
11. I hope their presence in the world gives them as much pleasure as it gives me and their father.
12. I had them under duress.
13. I also got married under duress.
14. I was convinced that being married and having children would be no fun.
15. I was wrong.
16. The world would be a better place if fewer people were wrong about that.
17. Especially celebrities who keep having children first, then getting married.
18. I disapprove of having children out of wedlock.
19. I'm extremely judgmental.
20. For example, there are a lot of things I enjoy, but don't talk about much.
21. Like sex.
22. Or food.
23. I am embarrassed and bored when people talk about their sex lives.
24. I am also embarrassed and bored when people talk about food.
25. I take the Seven Deadly Sins seriously.
26. I'm very religious.
27. I'm an Episcopalian.
28. This means I'm something of a fence-sitter.
29. I find most Protestant churches weird.
30. I am creeped out by some Catholic things, though.
31. Judaism makes all kinds of sense to me. But it's like a hereditary society, and I picked the wrong ancestors, so forget it.
32. I'm a snob.
33. I don't watch television.
34. I do watch t.v. shows on DVD.
35. I can't stand commercials.
36. I also don't like being told when and where to watch programs.
37. I'm fat.
38. Sometimes I think if I lost the weight, I wouldn't have anything left to do with my life. I mean, honestly, what challenge is greater than losing 40 pounds and leaving them off?
39. I have only had one husband.
40. I have two children.
41. I had a couple of miscarriages before I had my first child.
42. For some reason, that never really bothered me that much.
43. I think, at some very deep level, I believe that some things are not meant to be.
44. The only death I have ever truly mourned is my father's.
45. I still miss him.
46. I used to read all the time.
47. I think all the degrees I got in English Literature did something to wreck that for me.
48. It took me way too long to get back into reading for pleasure.
49. I'm still not interested in best-sellers, though.
50. I'm also not interested in current movies.
51. What I really hate, though, is the theater.
52. I hate theater so much that I've never talked about it on my blog.
53. I only like PG-13-rated movies.
54. I read the same books many times.
55. I watch the same movies many times.
56. I'm addicted to audiobooks.
57. I find most people fairly dull.
58. Actually, I hate theater, but I like to watch Shakespeare.
59. I also saw the Comedie Francaise perform a play by Moliere, and I enjoyed that, too.
60. The real problem is modernism.
61. I think most modernists are pretentious and full of themselves.
62. They also lack a sense of humor.
63. A sense of humor is the most important thing a person can have.
64. That and reverence.
65. Just don't be reverent about Eugene O'Neil when I'm around.
66. Or Tennessee Williams. Or August Wilson.
67. I could spend the rest of my life catching up with the past, and it would never be enough.
68. For example, I have a burning desire to learn Latin, a language I spent seventh and eighth grade ignoring.
69. I sometimes think if I could take the time to do the things right that I shirked or avoided--like my seventh and eighth grade Latin homework--I'd have a much better life.
70. Does anyone out there remember that dorky little fake computer thing Clinique used to have at their counters that supposedly tells you your skin type? I'm a burns-doesn't-tan kind of gal.
71. This means my skin is so white people have been known to scream loudly at the sight of it.
72. I hate going to the dentist.
73. I also hate going to the doctor.
74. I feel that I exhausted an entire life's worth of doctor's visits by having two babies and dealing with the number of examinations that involved.
75. So now I don't go.
76. The problems with being in your forties is realizing that a lot of people are seriously screwed up.
77. I mean, it's not just you. Or me. Or my family.
78. The older I get the more tactful I get.
79. This isn't saying much, since I'm pretty outspoken. Sagittarians always are.
80. I don't believe in astrology.
81. I can't understand how anyone can live in the country.
82. I'm Francophilic. When people started pouring French wine into the gutter because the French weren't supporting the United States' invastion of Iraq, I flew the French flag in front of my house. And wore an Hermes scarf every day. And bought two.
83. Ann Coulter makes me sick.
84. So do the other opportunists out there.
85. I have no idea for whom I'll vote in the next Presidential election.
86. I don't find myself getting significantly more conservative as I get older.
87. It's really amazing to me how little people know about etiquette, considering the fact that Emily Post's Blue Book of Social Usage is in the public domain.
88. The word verification thing on Blogger drives me nuts.
89. I've never waxed my bikini line.
90. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to get breast implants. Can the Victoria's Secret Models sleep on their chests? I can't, and mine are real. I'll bet the fake ones are even more uncomfortable when squashed.
91. My interest in breast implants means I find women like Victoria Beckham, Anna Nicole Smith, and Pamela Anderson sort of fascinating.
92. I have nice legs.
93. And a short torso.
94. I'm a nice person.
95. I've never been quite sure what "snarky" is. Even when I'm being snarky.
96. I'm amazingly unselfconscious.
97. I have no fear whatsoever of public speaking.
98. My clothes have this really bad habit of falling off in public.
99. I own a scary amount of Hermes scarves. (See #82)
100. Blogging is a great way to talk endlessly about myself without boring people in real life. If you've read this far, you know what I've spared them.
2. My family drives me crazy.
3. But that's OK; my in-laws drive me crazy, too.
4. It's nice to share things like that in a marriage.
5. One thing people never tell you about marriage is that being married is the only way you can get laid once you're no longer young and cute.
6. I'm not as cute as I used to be.
7. But I'm married.
8. I like being married.
9. I like getting laid.
10. I like my kids, too.
11. I hope their presence in the world gives them as much pleasure as it gives me and their father.
12. I had them under duress.
13. I also got married under duress.
14. I was convinced that being married and having children would be no fun.
15. I was wrong.
16. The world would be a better place if fewer people were wrong about that.
17. Especially celebrities who keep having children first, then getting married.
18. I disapprove of having children out of wedlock.
19. I'm extremely judgmental.
20. For example, there are a lot of things I enjoy, but don't talk about much.
21. Like sex.
22. Or food.
23. I am embarrassed and bored when people talk about their sex lives.
24. I am also embarrassed and bored when people talk about food.
25. I take the Seven Deadly Sins seriously.
26. I'm very religious.
27. I'm an Episcopalian.
28. This means I'm something of a fence-sitter.
29. I find most Protestant churches weird.
30. I am creeped out by some Catholic things, though.
31. Judaism makes all kinds of sense to me. But it's like a hereditary society, and I picked the wrong ancestors, so forget it.
32. I'm a snob.
33. I don't watch television.
34. I do watch t.v. shows on DVD.
35. I can't stand commercials.
36. I also don't like being told when and where to watch programs.
37. I'm fat.
38. Sometimes I think if I lost the weight, I wouldn't have anything left to do with my life. I mean, honestly, what challenge is greater than losing 40 pounds and leaving them off?
39. I have only had one husband.
40. I have two children.
41. I had a couple of miscarriages before I had my first child.
42. For some reason, that never really bothered me that much.
43. I think, at some very deep level, I believe that some things are not meant to be.
44. The only death I have ever truly mourned is my father's.
45. I still miss him.
46. I used to read all the time.
47. I think all the degrees I got in English Literature did something to wreck that for me.
48. It took me way too long to get back into reading for pleasure.
49. I'm still not interested in best-sellers, though.
50. I'm also not interested in current movies.
51. What I really hate, though, is the theater.
52. I hate theater so much that I've never talked about it on my blog.
53. I only like PG-13-rated movies.
54. I read the same books many times.
55. I watch the same movies many times.
56. I'm addicted to audiobooks.
57. I find most people fairly dull.
58. Actually, I hate theater, but I like to watch Shakespeare.
59. I also saw the Comedie Francaise perform a play by Moliere, and I enjoyed that, too.
60. The real problem is modernism.
61. I think most modernists are pretentious and full of themselves.
62. They also lack a sense of humor.
63. A sense of humor is the most important thing a person can have.
64. That and reverence.
65. Just don't be reverent about Eugene O'Neil when I'm around.
66. Or Tennessee Williams. Or August Wilson.
67. I could spend the rest of my life catching up with the past, and it would never be enough.
68. For example, I have a burning desire to learn Latin, a language I spent seventh and eighth grade ignoring.
69. I sometimes think if I could take the time to do the things right that I shirked or avoided--like my seventh and eighth grade Latin homework--I'd have a much better life.
70. Does anyone out there remember that dorky little fake computer thing Clinique used to have at their counters that supposedly tells you your skin type? I'm a burns-doesn't-tan kind of gal.
71. This means my skin is so white people have been known to scream loudly at the sight of it.
72. I hate going to the dentist.
73. I also hate going to the doctor.
74. I feel that I exhausted an entire life's worth of doctor's visits by having two babies and dealing with the number of examinations that involved.
75. So now I don't go.
76. The problems with being in your forties is realizing that a lot of people are seriously screwed up.
77. I mean, it's not just you. Or me. Or my family.
78. The older I get the more tactful I get.
79. This isn't saying much, since I'm pretty outspoken. Sagittarians always are.
80. I don't believe in astrology.
81. I can't understand how anyone can live in the country.
82. I'm Francophilic. When people started pouring French wine into the gutter because the French weren't supporting the United States' invastion of Iraq, I flew the French flag in front of my house. And wore an Hermes scarf every day. And bought two.
83. Ann Coulter makes me sick.
84. So do the other opportunists out there.
85. I have no idea for whom I'll vote in the next Presidential election.
86. I don't find myself getting significantly more conservative as I get older.
87. It's really amazing to me how little people know about etiquette, considering the fact that Emily Post's Blue Book of Social Usage is in the public domain.
88. The word verification thing on Blogger drives me nuts.
89. I've never waxed my bikini line.
90. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to get breast implants. Can the Victoria's Secret Models sleep on their chests? I can't, and mine are real. I'll bet the fake ones are even more uncomfortable when squashed.
91. My interest in breast implants means I find women like Victoria Beckham, Anna Nicole Smith, and Pamela Anderson sort of fascinating.
92. I have nice legs.
93. And a short torso.
94. I'm a nice person.
95. I've never been quite sure what "snarky" is. Even when I'm being snarky.
96. I'm amazingly unselfconscious.
97. I have no fear whatsoever of public speaking.
98. My clothes have this really bad habit of falling off in public.
99. I own a scary amount of Hermes scarves. (See #82)
100. Blogging is a great way to talk endlessly about myself without boring people in real life. If you've read this far, you know what I've spared them.
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