On Saturday, the ladies and I hosted a bridal shower for Ol, who will be getting hitched on Memorial Day weekend. I was in charge of games and prizes! Eschewing traditional bridal party fare, I composed a game entitled "Famous TV Couples", and guess what I did? I listed 20 surnames, and made our guests fill in the first names of these "Famous TV Couples." Ha! Wayne? Conner? Roper?? No one said it would be easy to win my prizes, y'all: My Best Friend's Wedding DVD (get it?); My Big Fat Greek Wedding DVD (stop, it's too adorable!), and then some pretty blue candles with lovely stained glass plate thing-a-ma-jigs, if that's your bag.
As it turns out, no one really paid attention to my cutting age game, except of course my mother, who thrives on such competitive mindfucks. And watches far too much television.
The real moral of the story is that Ol, Allie, Koos, and I have been friends since elementary school, when I was in love with Fran N. in the fifth grade proclaiming Love Day a national holiday. Ol was dating Fran by the eighth grade, which was fine, because by then I was totally over him and dating Allie's younger brother (yeah, a few of us fell hard for some of those seventh grade boys). The four of us were inseparable during our 14th year, having sleepovers at Ol's and mischievously scheming to sneak out at 4 AM to meet boys and drink beers and get high! Er - fine. We actually we did none of those things; we opted for a 4 AM hike to the Dunkin' Donuts a quarter of a mile up the street; but hell, that trip alone somehow got Allie grounded for months (who ratted us out??). Bad-asses.
All of our moms were present on Saturday, and since they don't get together too often, they took some time to reminisce.
"Look at that face," Allie's mom said when I dropped by their table to interrupt their conversation. "Just like when they were kids! Where does the time go?"
You said it, Mom of Al. We're all - old. Getting married; already married; having babies (second babies, D!); growing up. I shudder when I realize: we've been friends for over 20 years. We've been through death, divorce, heartache; but also provided each other so much joy, complete with countless fits of uncontrollable giggling. After two decades, the mundane is still HILARIOUS when we're together.
Alarmingly close to 30, I guess it doesn't get much better than that.
Even if no one really cared about my damn party game and someone (gasp!) left her copy of My Big Fat Greek Wedding behind.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Jack Talk Thai, Part I
The days before our trip were as fast and furious as Britney's breakdown. I was traveling, unfortunately, to Providence RI, and Worcester, MA. I found myself putting in 12 hour work days, with nary a moment to blog.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, you gorgeous Internet, you.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, you gorgeous Internet, you.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Time to Stop and Smell the Hazelnut Folgers...
Today, at Kinko's (yes, my sweet, sweet computer is busted once again), I purchased a book on organization. (In his office, upon reading this, J has just rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.)
But no - seriously - ORGANIZATION. I think it is the solution to ameliorating the chaos in my life (order eliminating chaos? Imagine.) and regaining some sanity, as well as blogging time. I am always running around and making plans (by the way, I should have been at tonight's Manhattan event a half an hour ago), and something needs to give. Lest I suffer a complete nervous breakdown.
I think I have made some exciting decisions in terms of my professional life, ones that I will share here all in due time (Remind me later to tell you the "BIG THANKS TO JUDY" story. It's awesome and did not at all cause screaming and hair-pulling and histrionics on Friday night. Nope. Not at all.)
So - ORGANIZATION. It's a new idea that I fully intend to see to fruition. Join me, won't you? I am in super-list making mode and "Finally blog about your fucking magical trip to Southeast Asia, you lazy whore" is high on my priority sheet.
All my love,
HV
But no - seriously - ORGANIZATION. I think it is the solution to ameliorating the chaos in my life (order eliminating chaos? Imagine.) and regaining some sanity, as well as blogging time. I am always running around and making plans (by the way, I should have been at tonight's Manhattan event a half an hour ago), and something needs to give. Lest I suffer a complete nervous breakdown.
I think I have made some exciting decisions in terms of my professional life, ones that I will share here all in due time (Remind me later to tell you the "BIG THANKS TO JUDY" story. It's awesome and did not at all cause screaming and hair-pulling and histrionics on Friday night. Nope. Not at all.)
So - ORGANIZATION. It's a new idea that I fully intend to see to fruition. Join me, won't you? I am in super-list making mode and "Finally blog about your fucking magical trip to Southeast Asia, you lazy whore" is high on my priority sheet.
All my love,
HV
Friday, March 09, 2007
Love Day
In 1991, I was in luurrrvvveee with Fran N. Deeply, deeply in love. I was in the 5th grade, and Mrs. McCullough played Cupid and seated Fran and I next to each other in class, and God, it was beautiful.
In late February, BFFs Erin, Marie, and I began preparing for our first boy-girl dance. Fran prominent in my mind, we shopped for cute outfits. I just knew my hot pink leggings and flowery top (which billowed out into a skirt, like, how hot is that?) were enough to entice the object of my affection. And lo, on March 9th, in the St. Gabriel's church hall, Fran asked me to dance! Three times! To the strains of Jodeci's "Forever My Lady", I felt my heart swell. In May, Lisa Moore would mouth to Fran "Will you go out with her?" as we sat bored in Mass, and Fran would, um, nod his assent, strong silent type that he was. We would then speak twice on the phone in the next six months, and then my love would unceremoniously dump me that October as he played football in the schoolyard.
But glorious, glorious March 9th was The Greatest Day in My 11 Year-Old Life. Thus, I declared it "Love Day" as I day-dreamed in my bedroom at Dad's house. I proceeded to cut out pink construction paper hearts and scribble "LOVE DAY. MARCH 9th" on each of those hearts, throwing them around the bedroom, humming to myself.
Happy Love Day, y'all.
In late February, BFFs Erin, Marie, and I began preparing for our first boy-girl dance. Fran prominent in my mind, we shopped for cute outfits. I just knew my hot pink leggings and flowery top (which billowed out into a skirt, like, how hot is that?) were enough to entice the object of my affection. And lo, on March 9th, in the St. Gabriel's church hall, Fran asked me to dance! Three times! To the strains of Jodeci's "Forever My Lady", I felt my heart swell. In May, Lisa Moore would mouth to Fran "Will you go out with her?" as we sat bored in Mass, and Fran would, um, nod his assent, strong silent type that he was. We would then speak twice on the phone in the next six months, and then my love would unceremoniously dump me that October as he played football in the schoolyard.
But glorious, glorious March 9th was The Greatest Day in My 11 Year-Old Life. Thus, I declared it "Love Day" as I day-dreamed in my bedroom at Dad's house. I proceeded to cut out pink construction paper hearts and scribble "LOVE DAY. MARCH 9th" on each of those hearts, throwing them around the bedroom, humming to myself.
Happy Love Day, y'all.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Jack Talk Thai, Part I
The days before our trip were as fast and furious as Britney's breakdown. I was traveling, unfortunately, to Providence RI, and Worcester, MA. I found myself putting in 12 hour work days, with nary a moment to blog.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, bitches.
The morning of the 21st, I arose at 5 AM in Worcester; drove to Providence; hopped a plane for Philly; took a cab to Manayunk; worked and packed all day; until Future Sis-In-Law whisked J and me to 30th Street Station, from which we high-tailed it to New York. Lovely ex-roommate Vanessa let us crash at her Hudson Street apartment for the evening, and at 8 AM, Feb. 22nd, we were finally JFK-bound.
Nerve Tonic in hand, we boarded our 17-hour flight to Bangkok. (Sweet, sweet Nerve Tonic. In lieu of valium, I opted for a homeopathic stress reliever, which I found earlier in the week at CVS. I don't really believe it did a fucking thing, but hey, I survived 40 hours of flying without a single panic attack! Am awesome and fearless.)
Flight was actually quite lovely, as I got to watch a ton of television and movies! And eat delicious Thai food! And I actually was able to sleep! Although, J and I were roused several times by the hippie woman behind us SCREAMING bloody murder, apparently in her sleep. And my GOD, the farting. But other than that, bravo Thai Airways. Bravo.
After another short flight from Bangkok, we made it through customs at Chiang Mai with no Brokedown Palace incidents, and at approximately 9 PM Thai time (9 AM our time, so yeah, 21 hours after we started this journey), we were delighted to find a man with a sign, bearing J's last name. And lo, though I practiced it mercilessly before we left, this moment was to be the only time one of us would utter the phrase:
"Poot pa sa ang grit dai mai?"
Which means, "Do you speak English?"
And then the reply: "Nit noi."
Which means, "A little."
Wow. Don't act like you're not impressed.
And so we rode in a taxi to our first hotel, the serene Tamarind Village. Which is truly a story for another day.
To be continued, bitches.
Obviously, the network veeps are reading.
Thank you, faithful reader "A", for this brilliant gem of information:
NEW YORK (AP) -- Those Geico "cavemen" shouldn't be so upset after all -- they may get their own television series.
ABC said Friday it had ordered a pilot for a comedy, tentatively titled "Cavemen," that features the characters used in a series of ads by the insurance company.
In the ads, cavemen appear insulted by a Geico pitchman's claim that the company's Web site is so easy to use that "even a caveman can do it."
The potential series, one of 14 pilots that will be produced by Touchstone Television this spring, features the cavemen as they "struggle with prejudice on a daily basis as they strive to live the lives of normal thirty-somethings in 2007 Atlanta."
It's unusual for characters from an advertising campaign to move into shows of their own, but not unprecedented. The CBS comedy "Baby Bob" featured a talking baby that had been used in several advertisements, according to Daily Variety.
The advertising copywriter who helped create the "cavemen" ads is writing the pilot, the studio said.
A pilot order is no guarantee a show will make it on the air; in fact, the majority of pilots don't make it that far.
NEW YORK (AP) -- Those Geico "cavemen" shouldn't be so upset after all -- they may get their own television series.
ABC said Friday it had ordered a pilot for a comedy, tentatively titled "Cavemen," that features the characters used in a series of ads by the insurance company.
In the ads, cavemen appear insulted by a Geico pitchman's claim that the company's Web site is so easy to use that "even a caveman can do it."
The potential series, one of 14 pilots that will be produced by Touchstone Television this spring, features the cavemen as they "struggle with prejudice on a daily basis as they strive to live the lives of normal thirty-somethings in 2007 Atlanta."
It's unusual for characters from an advertising campaign to move into shows of their own, but not unprecedented. The CBS comedy "Baby Bob" featured a talking baby that had been used in several advertisements, according to Daily Variety.
The advertising copywriter who helped create the "cavemen" ads is writing the pilot, the studio said.
A pilot order is no guarantee a show will make it on the air; in fact, the majority of pilots don't make it that far.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Vacation Over. Seriously???
Home, once again!
It's hard to imagine that just two days ago, we were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and Bangkok, Thailand.
Then, at 1 AM Thailand time we were airborne for another 17 hours, flying over China.
Then, Judd's parents lovingly fetched us at JFK at 6 AM yesterday morning.
Then, we arrived home, showered, and slept all day.
Then, we woke up at 8 PM, but couldn't keep our eyes open, so we went with it, and kept sleeping, finally rising at 4 AM and watching Lost on DVR. (And wasn't Jack in Thailand, on Phuket, in an episode we missed!)
And now, it's back to the daily grind, isn't it?
Sigh.
Was amazing, beautiful, magical voyage. Stay tuned for a more in-depth analysis, and 748784 pictures! Now, I must dig out from a million emails and will myself to work, when all I am interested in doing is adopting ten children from Cambodia, or being back in that longtail boat, headed for the Railey West beaches in Krabi.
It's hard to imagine that just two days ago, we were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and Bangkok, Thailand.
Then, at 1 AM Thailand time we were airborne for another 17 hours, flying over China.
Then, Judd's parents lovingly fetched us at JFK at 6 AM yesterday morning.
Then, we arrived home, showered, and slept all day.
Then, we woke up at 8 PM, but couldn't keep our eyes open, so we went with it, and kept sleeping, finally rising at 4 AM and watching Lost on DVR. (And wasn't Jack in Thailand, on Phuket, in an episode we missed!)
And now, it's back to the daily grind, isn't it?
Sigh.
Was amazing, beautiful, magical voyage. Stay tuned for a more in-depth analysis, and 748784 pictures! Now, I must dig out from a million emails and will myself to work, when all I am interested in doing is adopting ten children from Cambodia, or being back in that longtail boat, headed for the Railey West beaches in Krabi.
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