Vigorous Anonymity

Archive for August 2009

I took this one from Ree, because she doesn’t love me enough to tag me ::sob::.

Anyway, I really did it because I’d already done it!  On Facebook, months ago.  So this probably doesn’t technically count as a real post, but what the hell.  It’s my blog.

So here’s what you do:

Using only song titles from one artist, cleverly answer these questions:

Pick a band/artist: Counting Crows

1. Are you a male or female: AMERICAN GIRLS

2. Describe yourself: HARD CANDY

3. How do you feel about yourself: INSIGNIFICANT

4. Describe an ex boyfriend/girlfriend: ANYONE BUT YOU

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation: ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE (well ok it fit 25 years ago)

6. Describe your current location: ROUND HERE

7. Describe where you want to be: ON A TUESDAY IN AMSTERDAM LONG AGO

8. Your best friend(s) is/are: HANGINAROUND

9. Your favorite color is: COLORBLIND

10. You know that: I’M NOT SLEEPING

11. What’s the weather like: RAIN KING

12. If your life was a television show what would it be called? 1492 (I see it as a period piece. No age jokes please)

13. What is life to you: A LONG DECEMBER

14. What is the best advice you have to give: YOU CAN’T COUNT ON ME

15. If you could change your name what would you change it to: I’d like to say MR. JONES, but I suppose my gender forces me to say GOODNIGHT ELISABETH.

I really enjoyed doing that one.  And since Ree didn’t tag anyone, I’m not either.  Steal it!  You know you want to.


Ahh, Project Runway, how I have missed you.  And may I just take a moment and thank you, THANK YOU, for changing almost nothing in your move from Bravo to Lifetime.  While the venue was different – and clearly “Mood Fabrics” LA-style lacked a little of the mystique of the New York store with it’s nearly opaque windows and faded fabrics behind them that have probably been there for 100 years – I hardly noticed.  I am surprised, however, that your judges opted to vote out the crazy on the first round!  Anyone who can make a halter-diaper should at least continue to entertain us through week 4, before being booted.

And let me also thank you for the 2 hours before hand, in which Santino Rice once again proved what an ass he is.  Because there was a time, right after his very brilliant Fashion Week show, when I was softening up to him.  But his antics last night reminded me in living color that he is a sociopath.  I’m glad he didn’t win. (Still trying to figure out how he managed to find a dog in the Mood Fabric store – he didn’t appear to have one when he got there, but he had one when he left!  That store must sell everything!)

And how awesome is that Chris March?  Sleeping through model auditions!  Sleeping sitting up.  Sleeping standing up.  Sleeping lying down.  And still – top 4!  Eat that, Santino.  I love that Chris.

I only have two words of criticism, P-Ject.  They are – Sweet P.  Because – really?

Anyway, I’m so glad you’re back.  Can scarcely wait for the episode in which the contestant/designers will be asked to create an evening look out of dental floss.  Leading to the inevitable question – waxed or unwaxed?

Vacation this year was odd.  No other way to put it, it was just unusual.

Jackass was away for the entire week before vacation, so I had the unenviable task of packing up all our shit for the trip.  And if you’ve ever vacationed at the Joisey Shore you know that you really do have to pack up all your shit.  You never know what you’re going to need, and the hotel/condo/house isn’t going to provide it for you.  This is not like staying at a resort hotel somewhere.

The kids and I drove down Thursday night.  Jackass had one more day of a meeting he had been attending and would join us on Friday.  And we were going to be staying until the following Monday, for a total of ten days.

When we arrived at our friend’s condo at 11pm on Thursday night, it was 85 degrees in their.  Their A/C had broken in the 24 hours since they had last been there.  I called Jackass (it’s his friend’s place) and explained the situation, and he promised to call the friend in the morning, but for the night, we were stuck in the heat.  Then, I spent all day Friday trying to get the A/C fixed for the friends.  Calling repairmen, waiting for repairmen, working out arrangements to get it paid for since the friends weren’t there to hand them a credit card.  So that day was lost, and the A/C started working again at 6pm that day.

That was how it began.  But it wasn’t the only reason for it being odd.  The kids are getting too old for this trip, I think.  There’s nothing for them to do, and they are too old to sit and watch TV.  The beach is a great draw, for a few hours, but even that is boring.  Morris doesn’t really read for pleasure, and he gets bored just sitting there.  Even hooked into his iPod, he loses interest fast.

We ate out a lot.  Spent lots of money.  But in the end, we did nothing.  It was boring.  It was peaceful and relaxing for Jackass, (which is the reason we still do this trip) but everyone else was bored.  And I am tired of cooking and cleaning.

For the last bunch of years, I’ve been telling Jackass that, for the money we spend at the shore each year, we could be doing lots of interesting things.  And the kids are missing out – there’s a whole world to see, and we’ve never gone beyond 3 hours from our house.

Then his daughter (my step) told him about their honeymoon, spent in the Dominican Republic.  An all-inclusive resort.  It sounds like heaven.  Absolute heaven.  I checked out the price and it’s about the same as what we spend to go to the shore.  Can you imagine?  It’s nearly the same to drive 3 hours and sit on a beach all day – cooking and cleaning myself – as it is to fly to the Dominican Republic and be waited on for a week.

I explained it to the family.  Morris listened with his mouth open, practically drooling.  And then he said, “I always thought those kinds of trips were outside our budget.”

That made me angry.  They aren’t outside our budget.  They’re outside Jackass’ willingness to try.  HE wants to sit on the beach.  None of us do.

So next year, I’m going to the DR with my kids.  Jackass can come or he can stay.  But I’m going!

And I’m begging you all for recommendations.  Where to stay, what to do – if not the DR, than somewhere comparable.  Tell me your stories!

There’s a note making the rounds on Facebook, and at least 4 of my friends have tagged me to do it.  (If you don’t have Facebook, a note is the same as a meme.)  I keep ignoring their tags, and they keep tagging me anyway.  Because seriously, after my confession of how uncool I was yesterday, my list of 50 concerts is even worse.  Sad, in fact.

I have never really been a concert-goer.  My parents wouldn’t let me go see Elton John when I was a teenager, and by the time I was old enough to go, Elton wasn’t really performing anymore and I didn’t really want to see any one else, so I lost interest.

The first concert I ever went to was…REO Speedwagon.  Because you can tune a piano, but you can’t tuna fish.  And it was FUN!  But also?  It was annoying and smoky and loud and I couldn’t see very well and the music didn’t sound like it did on the record.  And that was the start of it all.  I’m not a concert-goer.

I have compiled my list, but I’m not posting it in response to the tag on Facebook.  Because it is just so very sad and embarrassing.  But I can show you guys.  You won’t judge.  OK maybe you will but I know you won’t poke fun.  Ok maybe you will but I know you’ll forgive me.  And probably tell me about your worst concert ever, too.  Right?

  1. REO Speedwagon
  2. Frankie Valli – saw him at the Playboy Club in Great Gorge, NJ
  3. Regis & Kathie Lee – They count!  I didn’t buy the tickets.  I just got dragged along.
  4. Elton John – FINALLY!
  5. Billy Joel – with Elton John…best concert ever
  6. Men at Work
  7. Fleetwood Mac – multiple times, but the last time was when Jackass sacrified a knee for my virtue.  A fight ensued.  We were kicked out of the Meadlowlands.  Good times.
  8. Stevie Nicks
  9. Dan Fogelberg
  10. Alanis Morrissette – almost got into another fight.  Jackass wasn’t with me, so it was proof that I’m the problem, not him.
  11. Garbage
  12. The Pretenders
  13. The B52s
  14. Keane
  15. Jimmy Buffet
  16. Johnny River – oh what a story this is.  But I don’t know if I can do it justice.
  17. Twisted Sister – they used to perform before they were famous at a little club that I got drunk in when I was 19.  So that counts too, right?

So how sad is that?  17 concerts in 48 years.  I should have my card revoked or something.

Last night, I was flipping stations and found a retrospective – a good one – about Woodstock.

I was 8 when Woodstock was happening, and I didn’t even know what it was until many years later.  But the music of that era is very much alive for me, probably because my sisters and brothers and husband are all products of the 60’s.  I’ve passed a love of CSN&Y, the Mamas and Papas, the Beatles, Dylan, and Jefferson Airplane to my daughter.  She is convinced she was born in the wrong era.

After the show was on about 10 minutes, Ingrid turned away from Facebook (yeah, imagine that!) and joined me on the couch to watch the last hour.

At some point, she turned to me and said, “You didn’t go to that right?”  Ain’t it cute how they have no idea how old you are or when you were alive.

“No, I was a kid.  But I probably wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

She gasped.  “Are you kidding?  Why not!?”

I looked at the television – the rampant drug use, the sex, the mud – and then looked at her.  “You know me pretty well.  Does that look like some place I’d be happy?”  All those people.  All that dirt.  All those drugs.  Oh my.  No.

She just shook her head at me and started watching again.  And at some point, a clip of Gracie Slick singing at dawn came on, and she asked me, “Was it just continual music for three days, all night long?”

I said, yeah, I think so.

“And you wouldn’t want to go to THAT?  What are you, crazy????”

No.  I’m just uncool.

Well, we’re back from vacation, and I didn’t kill anyone.  Prozac is a good thing.  At least I think it is.  I don’t really know what it actually did, I’m only judging by what I didn’t do, which was kill someone.  After 10 days sequestered with my family, 2 days of a stomach virus (mine) and packing up all our shit to move it somewhere else on three separate occasions, everyone remains alive and relatively unscathed.  I barked at Ingrid once, but seriously, dudes, she deserved it.  That kid can try the patience of a saint.

Which brings me to my next subject.

At what point does one let their child fail and face the consequences?  I don’t mean like not typing their book report for them at midnight of the day it’s due, but big stuff.  Like, if I don’t step in and help, she’ll end up de-registered from college.  That size stuff.

When she left school in May, she left with a hefty package from the nursing program with some requirements that needed to be fulfilled by July 31.  She didn’t show it to me until somewhere around July 15th, and by that point we were almost out of time to get some of the requirements fulfilled.  But I helped and made a dozen phone calls and sent the package to the school by overnight mail so that it got there by the deadline.  One of the things that was on the list she told me she had already taken care of, and to ignore it.  Only she hadn’t.  And now there is a hold on her account, because…those requirements?  And that deadline?  Turns out they were serious!!!

I, of course, called the school to find out what could be done and they explained it to me.  So I texted her to please call me an hour ago and she’s still in bed and hasn’t called.  She has two weeks to get a criminal background check and take a CPR course.

So seriously, what does a parent do?  This is real stuff.  I can’t afford for her to be kicked out of the nursing program because she can’t get herself organized enough to get 10 things done in 3 months.  This isn’t just about her – it’s about us too because it’s costing us a fortune to send her.  I just really don’t know at what point I can just wipe my hands and not give a damn anymore.

We are leaving Thursday night for the Joisey Shore.

If you’ve read the other blog at all (and I can’t link you because of the password…DAMN THOSE GIRLS!) you may remember that our annual visits to the beach are fraught with peril.  There was the time we locked ourselves out of the condo.  And the time Jackass dropped and broke an entire case of Corona (Quel Horreur!)  And the time we had a fight so bad we didn’t speak to each other the entire trip.  Yeah, all good times…good times.  (If anyone really needs to reread those adventures, I will happily repost, with vigorous anonymity, here.)

So this year is a little different, in that Jackass has been away all week and we – Ingrid, Morris and I – are driving down ourselves Thursday night.  Jackass will be joining us sometime Friday.

I am left to pack all of our gear myself (not all that unusual) and ready the house for our departure (unusual).  I was asked to lock the garage door when we go.  I didn’t realize it had a lock, so there’s that.  And something about turning off the water…eh how important can that be??

Anyway, we – the kids and I – are just a whirlwind of inactivity.  With one real night left of packing, we’ve done exactly nothing.  We’ve played a lot of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time and watched America’s Got Talent, but other than that…yeah not so much.  And Ingrid turned to me last night and said, “this is the most relaxed I’ve ever been before vacation.”  I could only think, yeah, that’s because we haven’t done anything!

I’m a little uncomfortable about how much we have to do yet.  OK I’m a lot concerned, but I’m hiding it well.

We’ll get it done.  We always do.  And tonight I will be a lunatic since I have to work Thursday till 5, and then we’re leaving “as soon as I get home.”  Every night this week the kids have moaned that they don’t want to be sitting around for 3 hours while I pack last minute, and each time they moan I hand them a laundry basket and tell them to get to work and shut up.  Mother of the year!

And in my bag is an unopened bottle of Prozac, which I am sure I’m going to need this week but which I am afraid to take.  I should probably get over that and start popping.  Friday is just around the corner.

P.S.  It just occurred to me – this moment – that I don’t know where the keys to the condo we are staying in are.

P.P.S.  My fucking husband isn’t answering his cell phone (he is in charge of these keys) and now I’m freaking the fuck out.

P.P.P.S.  My 16 year old son just calmly informed me HE is picking them up from Jackass’ friend tomorrow.  It’s good to be in the loop on these things.


  • None
  • TheQueen: Yeah, perhaps next year suggest you ALL just skip the adult gifts and focus on the little ones. I'm sure you won't miss it!
  • kristabella: Yay! You're back!
  • Shania Ring: Out of all of that, the only thing in my head is 20?!? Twenty? I remember a little boy in middle school when I first started reading you. Are you SURE