Don't see what anyone could see in anyone else...but you.
January's been a slow month. Not necessarily a bad month….but a slow month. Not a lot going on. I'm struggling to find Ten Happy Things. I can definitely do, like, six. Ten is going to be tough. I apologize in advance if some of these seem lame. Maybe, in reflection, that's a good thing though. I mean, when there aren't these big, monumental things going on, it really forces a girl to really cherish the little things. Ah well, here's my stab…
10. I've mentioned before…I have, what I call, a Coffee Boyfriend. Big 'ol black dude in my local Starbucks who loves my hair and pays me compliments and calls me 'Baby'. He knows what I want without me saying it. He's the highlight of my morning. Starbucks,
as I'm sure you know, likes to run little holiday related nudges to
make the coffee you get every day seem cuter than usual (or, in fact,
cute at all). In honor of Valentine's Day, the
Starbucks I go into is using red Sharpies to write on the cups as
opposed to the standard black Sharpies. This
morning, my Coffee Boyfriend wrote my order in the designated squares
on my cup and then drew six big red hearts all over the cup in red
Sharpie marker. Awwwwwww…
9. I got a new do. It's really not that different than usual. I mean, my hair just doesn't change a lot. I've had varying lengths of basically the same haircut for the better part of ten years. To change it up, I took a picture of my hairstyle guru (Mandy Moore
8. This month's Vanity Fair (my FAVORITE magazine, by far) features a cover and extensive article on the new Indiana Jones movie. Bonzer! Just when you thought Indiana Jones couldn't get any better, they go an add Shia LaBeouf. Yeah, that's cool. Dumb name. Cool actor. Cooler movie. And let me just tell you, Han Solo is 65 friggin years old and the man looks SPECTACULAR. I mean, really. No wonder he bangs chicks like 30 years younger than he is. It's
been something like 19 years since the last Indy movie (yeah, I know, I
felt old too when I figured that one out) and when in costume, Han Solo
doesn't look any less like Indy now than he did 19 years ago. I'm
not done with the article yet but the little bit I have sucked into my
brain informs me that the movie takes place in 1957 and instead of
Nazis, Indy is up against some classic Cold War Ruskies led by a
Dominatrix-style Cate Blanchett. No Nazis? Hmm. Doesn't seem like Indiana Jones without any Nazis. We shall see. Spielberg and Lucas are back on board and they're brought Marion
7.
Ever feel crazy? Crazy like you need professional help? Yeah, me
too. Know how to rid yourself of some of that feeling? Watch 'In
Treatment' on HBO. It's this new half-hour show starring Gabriel
Byrne. It's on every night and each night is a new patient. For
example, every Monday is Laura's session. Every Tuesday is Alex's
session...etc. All the show consists of is Gabriel Byrne (the
therapist) and his half-hour session with a patient. I don't know if I
think it's good or bad yet. I do know, however, that watching these
nuts makes me feel utterly normal. I feel like I can't possibly be
that fucked up because these people are WAY more fucked up than I am.
That makes me feel kind of good...even if it's in a sadistic kind of
way.
6. Okay, this one is a little left of center. I have two cats. One really big cat and one really little cat and one stupid dog who is awesome but entirely stupid. A
few months back, my really big cat (Jimmy) tried to jump down from a
height too high for his 22 pound mass of catflesh and injured his foot. To be specific, he severely dislocated the pinkie toe on his left front paw and stretched the tendons all out. Friggin cat. So,
he had x-rays and crap and had to wear this blue cast for like two
months (which was an exercise in non-stop hilarity in and of itself). Ever since he got the cast off, though, he's been like super attack kitty from hell. He's all aggressive to the other animals in the house and it's so funny. Like, he just attacks the other cat, a tiny little 8-pound miss kitty named Simba who is also his sister. He'll just walk up to her, sit down, and then bite the hell out of her. She looks at him like "what the balls, dude?" Then he just walks away. He does the same thing to the dog. He just walks up to Riley and starts kicking his ass. No provocation. No warning. Just blood-thirsty attack. He hasn't started attacking me yet. I think when and if he starts doing that, it will cease being funny. He doesn't actually hurt his victims….so the comedy is maintained.
5. I play in the Southside Dart League…….or, at least, I did for several years until the smoke levels in the bars drove me away. I haven't played in two seasons or so…a little over a year. It's kind of a stupid, white trash hobby (here anyway….it's not in the UK The bars in Chicagoland are now smoke-free. SMOKE FREE! So, what does that mean to me? It means I can go back to darts after an extended time off because my lungs just couldn't take it anymore. I don't smoke. I've never smoked. I can't understand how anyone does it. Every Wednesday night, I would come home from darts positively drenched in everyone else's smoke. My clothes, my hair, my skin, my pocketbook…everything would smell like smoke. Then the coughing would ensue. Four
hours in a bar on a Wednesday night and I'd spend the next 48 hours
minimum coughing, hacking, wheezing, gagging on some kind of tar-like
substance that seemed to be oozing out of my bronchials. Those days are over! I
was at Cullinan's Stadium Club last night from 7:15 until midnight and
when I walked out, nothing on, in, or near my person smelled of smoke. I haven't coughed once today. Happy, happy, happy day! Of course, the smokers are complaining about how they have to outside and smoke. Oh boo hoo hoo. If you insist on breathing in instant lung cancer, so be it….but don't force me to breathe it in.
4. Last weekend, I saw Juno with my younger siblings. I'd wanted to see it but thought it could wait for DVD release. Then
Ellen Page, who I like a lot, got nominated for an Oscar…….which
significantly reduced my level of patience for seeing the film. So, we all trooped out and saw the flick on a Saturday afternoon. I loved it. I really, really, really loved it. It's sweet and smart and clever and refreshing…..and it's got a great soundtrack. I'm not big on the whole indie music thing and I still love the soundtrack. I can't stop listening to it. The
viewing experience itself was interesting thanks to the fact that I was
watching a movie about teen pregnancy with three teenagers while a
small group of nuns were seated in the row behind us. Kind of surreal… Anyway… I walked out of the film with an overwhelming feeling about two things: 1)
different is often beautiful (a concept I've known for a long, long
time) and 2) loving someone who loves you for who you are just as you
are is far better than loving someone who loves you for who you were,
who they wish you were, who they think you are, or who they think you
could be.
3. Tennis in HD. Grand Slam Tennis in 52 inch wide screen crystal clear HD. That's all I'm going to say.
2. I know you all think I'm crazy and all that but this is the best weather ever. It's been positively arctic outside. Arctic and snowy and fabulous. I really cannot laud winter enough. Winter is the greatest. If I were in second grade, winter would be my best friend who I sat next to on the bus. Winter is my favorite. I wish it would never end.
1.
So... So, so, so, so, so. The Australian Open came and went. There
were winners and losers. You know who was a winner. Novak Djokovic,
that's who. And you know who was a loser? Roger Federer! Roger
fucking Federer FINALLY lost! And not even in the finals. The silly
Suisse bitch lost in the Semi finals. In straight sets. STRAIGHT
SETS! The last time Roger Federer lost a match in straight sets was in
2002! It was so great. It was brilliant. Purely and utterly
brilliant. When he hit that last shot into the net to give his
opponent, my new god of Tennis – Novak Djokovic, the win, I literally
ran around the house leaping and yelping with glee. I have been
waiting many, many, many non-French Open Grand Slam tournaments to see
that fucker lose. I mean, he always loses the French Open but that's
on clay. Losing on grass or hard-court is another thing entirely.
There is no one on earth I loathe more than Roger Federer. No one.
For the past six years, that man has single handedly ruined men's
tennis for me. He has beaten – in some cases, humiliatingly so – every
men's tennis player I've ever loved. He's like that other asshole,
Pete Sampras, but infinitely more annoying. I hate him and his pug
face and his stupid headband and his flopsy hair. I hate his stupid RF
hat that he's taken to wearing. I hate him even more for being so
gracious and professional and smart. I wish he could be an asshole so
that he'd be good to hate. Andy Roddick put it best when he said "I
went to Roger and I said 'I really wish I could hate you but I can't
because you're really nice.'" Yeah, well, fuck that. I hate him on
Andy's behalf. While I certainly don't think this is the end of him,
it is clear that his stupid tennis-ruining star is finally starting to
fall. We can finally have some good competition in men's tennis. I
can finally watch a Grand Slam Tournament other than the French Open
without having to think "this match doesn't matter because Federer is
going to win." Fuck Federer. Fuck him with his stupid headband. God
Bless the rising Serbian stars of tennis for bringing joy back to the
game for me and everyone else who's sick of seeing the same dude win
every damn thing! I said a year ago, "if anyone is going to be able to
beat Federer, it's going to be this Djokovic kid…just you watch."
Bless him for proving me right. Bless him right down to his Serbian
toes.
So, there you are. The first Ten Happy Things of 2008. Enjoy them. Savor them with a cup of cocoa and every time you shiver with the cold of winter, think of how happy I am. ;-)
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