Elegantly Random

Mad at Maine.

I'm really pissed off at Maine.

Six months ago, the state of Maine passed a bill that would allow gay marriage. Yesterday, the voters of Maine headed to the polls to make sure that wouldn't come to pass, and they succeeded. The law was rejected. This follows a similar incident last fall in California, when voters in that state passed Proposition 8 banning gay marriage. As in Maine, the state's decision was overridden by the public at the polls.

I'm not gay. I don't have any family members who are gay. But to me, this issue cuts straight to the heart of human rights and human decency. Who am I, who is anyone, to say some humans should be denied fundamental rights? This isn't a question of religion - it's a question of humanity. And sometimes it is the role of the law to make decisions on behalf of citizens. I know, I know - government intervention is evil. But the general population doesn't always get it right. If government hadn't ever intervened, how long might it have taken for people to opt via general election to grant women or black citizens their basic human rights?

I'm sure many of you have heard the phrase "tyranny of the majority" - and if you haven't, take heed. The basic idea is that, left to their own devices, the majority will gang up on the minority and the minority will lose. But the majority isn't always right (i.e. CIVIL RIGHTS). And sometimes it is the DUTY, yes the DUTY of those in charge to stand up for the little guy.

And right now, gay and lesbian citizens are the little guy. Here's a fantastic argument for why the right to a civil union should never even have been on a ballot to begin with.

Some of you have heard me talk about a certain friend who has not once, but TWICE de-friended me on social media sites for making political comments. More than 100% of participants in a recent poll on my Facebook page concluded that de-friending someone for speaking up is LAMER THAN LAME. The first time it happened, I was really crushed. The second time, I didn't care.

Last year, during the presidential election, some things came to the surface with a black man and a woman running for president that just sickened me. Issues were stirred up that I hadn't had to deal with among friends before. And I had a sort of personal epiphany. While I absolutely respect that some people's views won't line up with mine, and I am fine with that, I'm no longer going to give hate a free pass.

What I mean is this. If you truly believe that gay marriage is evil, that gay people are going to hell, then fine. I'm not going to try and change your mind. I think you're wrong, but I'm not going to argue with you. You are entitled to think that. But the minute you cross the line from "I personally think this is wrong" to "I am going to vote to remove someone's rights," I'm done. Go ahead and think gay marriage is evil - you have fun with all that hatred. It's probably exhausting. But if you voted against gay marriage, you are hateful.

HATEFUL.

Because who CARES? Why does it matter to you if your neighbor is gay and gets married? It changes NOTHING about your life. But your vote absolutely changes your neighbor's life. Who are you to say, to judge? What's the big deal? Are you scared your kid is going to go to school with a kid who's got gay parents? And they're going to hang out and your kid is gonna TURN GAY? Get a grip! This is the world we live in - gay people are people too. 

Should I have been denied marriage because I married a Jew, or he married me? Because it's the same thing. Should black people still be sitting at the back of the bus? Should women still be denied the right to vote?

This has nothing to do with religion. It has to do with ignorance, fear and hate. And I'm not going to stand for it. I can't force people to wake up and become better people. But I can call it like I see it. Hate. If you don't want to marry a gay couple in your church, don't - but there's NO REASON I can see to deny them a civil ceremony and the same basic rights as any heterosexual, committed couple.

And one more thing - this whole notion of tolerance? That has to go. Tolerance doesn't help. Acceptance helps. Don't just deign to tolerate those who are different from you - accept them. Open your heart, accept it and MOVE ON.

From now on, anyone who moves to strip a person's rights as a human or to prevent them from gaining basic human rights that have previously been denied them is a HATEFUL person. There's no sugar-coating that. You do your thing, I'll do mine - but don't take my right to my thing away from me. Not till I've hurt or killed someone should I EVER have to worry about my rights being taken from me. And having your kid exposed to gayness, or having to work with a gay person is absolutely not murder or hurt. It's REAL LIFE. THIS IS THE REAL WORLD - join it ANY TIME. You can keep voting it down, but it's not going away.

Word nerd.

I'm a big nerd. We all know this. And I was once an English major. Literature was more my focus than linguistics or grammar, and I'm certainly human and make mistakes, but I still can't take it when people can't tell the difference between "it's" and "its" or "their," "there" and "they're."

In addition to my impatience for grammatically-challenged users of the English language, another pet peeve: the social embrace and perpetuation of bastardized pronunciation. Put another way - entire societies saying a word incorrectly all the time. And not realizing it.

I could go on a tangent now about how the English language is on its deathbed. Because when words are pronounced the wrong way by enough people, we just accept it and it becomes the new norm. It's so very American, isn't it? To just say a word however we feel like it, trusting that everyone around us will just go with it and ultimately CHANGE IT IN THE DICTIONARY. *sigh*

Let's look at a few words that NO ONE knows how to pronounce anymore, starting with a few that are still absolutely black-and-white as far as pronunciation and then continuing on to the ones that are becoming lost causes.

Simple mistakes: grocery
Correct pronunciation: groh-suh-ree
Bastardized pronunciations: grohs-ree, grohsh-ree

I think this one is just born of sheer laziness. I'll even find myself saying it the wrong way if I don't stop and think about it and do what's right. Because not paying attention to your pronunciation makes you a sheep! A stupid sheep with ugly wool!

Inexplicable addition of sounds: realtor
Correct pronunciation: ree-uhl-ter
Bastardized pronunciation: ree-luh-ter

Friends. Look at the letters, okay? There's no "uh" in between the L and the T. There just isn't. This is a pretty simple one, so let's just try it together a few times now, okay? Deep breath and...Real...ter. REALTOR.

Sheer disregard for rules: coupon
Correct pronunciation: coo-pon
Bastardized pronunciation: kyoo-pon

Coo. COOOOO! Coo like a dove, friends. Embrace that gentle, soothing sound and then stick a pon at the end. COOOPON! COOOOOOOOOPON. Not kyoooo-pon, you hick.

The curse of the hick: vehicle
Correct pronunciation: vee-i-kuhl
Bastardized pronunciations: vee-hik-uhl

There's really no nice way to say this, but only two types of people say "vee-hik-uhl" - people trying to sound really intelligent (like the ones who pronounce the word human "yoo-man" - so, when the h belongs there, you don't say it, and when it doesn't you do...LOGICAL) and complete hicks. The word is "vee-i-kuhl." And yet there does seem to be an explanation for the error. Let's look at what Dictionary has to say about it:

Because the primary stress in vehicle is on the first syllable, the [h] in the second syllable tends to disappear: [vee-i-kuhl]. A pronunciation with primary stress on the second syllable and a fully pronounced [h] is usually considered nonstandard: [vee-hik-uhl]. In the adjective vehicular, where the primary stress is normally on the second syllable, the [h] is always pronunced.

Did you follow that, folks? Pronouncing the word like "vee-hik-uhl" is considered nonstandard. In other words, IT'S WRONG. Unless you're saying "vehicular" which most people are not. So stop being a hick (or a jerk) and ditch the H!

Lost causes: February
Correct pronunciation: feb-roo-er-ee
Bastardized pronuciations: feb-yoo-er-ee; feb-oo-er-ee

This is a tricky one - it's tough to achieve the double-R thing. It takes work. Lazy speakers over the years have changed this word almost irrevocably into "feb-yoo-er-ee" - I suspect (and so does dictionary.com) that's largely influenced by the month of "jan-yoo-er-ee." I am sad to say I doubt we'll ever be able to teach the American public to properly pronounce this word.

These are just a few of the words that tick me off just about every time I hear them botched by friends, coworkers and passers-by. How about you? Which frequently abused words just make your skin crawl?

I do believe in spooks! I do I do I do!

This morning on my favorite radio talk show, Bob & Sheri opened the phone lines and challenged callers to convince Bob of the existence of paranormal activity. Several people shared stories of strange occurrences in their homes, on vacations, etc. I'm not sure whether skeptical Bob was convinced or not, but it was definitely a fun kick-off to the Halloween weekend. It's a holiday I've always enjoyed, aside from the obnoxious trend of chicks using it as an excuse to dress like whores. Like they don't do that on any other weekend night. But I digress.

Being an agnostic type of gal, I don't really have any beliefs in particular about what happens to us when we die. And I think maybe that's why I can't discount the possibility that there IS such a thing as ghosts and spirits and the like. I've talked with several people over the years who have shared personal accounts of noises and activity they couldn't explain, eerie happenings in their homes or workplaces. There are dozens of shows devoted to the paranormal watched by people all over the world. Every historic town on the globe makes money giving ghost tours. If there's really no such thing as ghosts, would so many people have so many stories?

I guess the same thing could be said for religion, huh? If there were nothing to it, would so many people believe in some form of God? Digressing again!

I have only ever had one experience that falls into the paranormal activity category. When I was a senior in college, I was a resident advisor. Our college owned many houses that lined the perimeter of our campus and used them for student housing. That year, I lived on the first floor of a big, 100+ year-old brick mansion on the very outskirts of campus. It was sort of isolated and sat on a huge lot, back from the road and with wide acreage around it. The house was three stories tall and 16 women lived in it. It had a legitimate stone cellar, which no one enjoyed doing laundry in. It had been updated to make it user-friendly for so many people, with several added bathrooms, the kitchen transformed into a bedroom, and the fireplace covered to avoid hazard.

At the beginning of the year, I was alone in the house for two weeks during RA training. I had a key that opened all the doors in the house, so that I could check and prepare each room before the girls arrived for move-in day. On the first night I was living in that house, I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard sounds above me - footsteps on the stairs two floors up. It really startled me, because there was no one there yet aside from me, and all the room doors were locked. I had purposefully checked every single room that day to make SURE the house was empty and re-locked each door, trying each handle. When you're 21 years old and a female living alone in a big house, you do NOT forget to lock every door and you make SURE you're alone before you go to sleep. That house was EMPTY.

So I decided, well maybe it wasn't the stairs. It's an old house, and I have lived in a LOT of old houses over the years. It could have been "old house noises." I tried to go back to sleep, but then I heard it again. Footsteps. I got up out of bed and cautiously made my way to the door, the keys in my hand. I was determined to re-check the house to be sure I was alone. As I unlocked my own door and started to open it, I heard a BANG above me - a door slamming. Hastily, I re-locked my door and grabbed the phone to call my boyfriend.

"What it is?" he asked sleepily.

"I think there's someone in the house with me - will you come over?" I whispered.

(Sure, I could have called campus security, but boyfriends trump rent-a-cops, right?)

So he came over, and I let him in the (locked) back door. We went around the house and we opened every single door to every single room, checked thoroughly for humans and spirits, and re-locked them. We also checked windows, fire escapes, bathrooms, the basement...Nothing. I made him stay the night, I was so spooked.

I would like to say that was the only time I had an experience like that in that house, but it wasn't. Off and on for the two weeks before move-in, and the days I was alone in the house between semesters and at the end of the year - basically anytime I was the only person in the house and it was all silent - I heard noises. Footsteps on the stairs. Water running. Laughing and talking. Doors opening and closing. Strange creaks. It was seriously like there was a family living in the house that I just couldn't see. Other girls told me they had heard similar things when the house was relatively empty. I asked the residence life staff and - get this - they all acknowledged there were some stories, but refused to tell me more. Which is pretty ominous if you ask me. I thought about going to the library and researching the house, but I decided that since nothing hostile was going down, maybe it was better NOT to know and get even more spooked.

I never saw anything, and I know sounds are suspect, but all I can say is, I would not be surprised to learn there were ghosts in that house.

So, heading into Halloween, a great time for playful spooking, I'd love to hear from you, my awesome readers. Do you believe in ghosts? Has anything eerie ever happened to you?

Have a safe and Happy Halloween weekend!

One big headache.

Happy 3 year anniversary to me! Woot! Jay is awesome and I'm so lucky and made of win!

Aside from the joy of the anniversary though, I must share with you the blood-boiling experience I just had at the eye doctor. Yes, the EYE doctor. Usually the least invasive and uncomfortable doctor's experience one can have, but today, a SHINING example of the problems with our current health care system and a complete waste of my precious time and cash.

When I was in junior high, I started getting headaches almost daily, and after a time my mom hauled me to the eye doctor. I could see just fine, in fact my vision was (and still is) basically perfect, but I was getting headaches from reading the blackboard or the overhead projectors used in class. The eye doctor determined that I have astigmatism, which basically means that your cornea is abnormally curved and that it is hard for the eye to focus and read small details, up close or at a distance. He prescribed me a special lens that corrects that curve so that my eyes would relax and I wouldn't get headaches. And it worked!

Over the years, I have had three different prescriptions for astigmatism. The last one was issued to me in 2004, shortly before I moved to North Carolina. At that time, the doctor informed me that cases like mine are very tough to prescribe, because I do have good vision and I don't need any magnification, I only need curvatures to ease the process of focusing on objects. He told me to use the glasses when I'm reading, using a computer, watching anything on a screen in the dark or whenever I'm exhausted. And I did.

But when you can see, it's easy to get lazy about wearing your  glasses, so I can be lax about it sometimes. I mostly only wear my glasses when I'm tired or if I already have a headache. Not good. Lately, I've been having really severe headaches almost daily, and since I haven't been to the eye doctor since 2004, I thought I should go.

SO! I went. And I was excited about it! At 1:00 I drove the five miles to the clinic, recommended to me by several trusty coworkers. I figured I'd just grab a sandwich after my visit.

I arrived at 1:10. I was at the clinic until 3:45.

During my visit, I saw three different technicians. They measured my current glasses to find their prescription, performed a series of vision tests on me without giving me any indication how I did, and put various burning drops in my eyes to dilate them. I never was tested for glaucoma, which I cannot understand.

After seeing three technicians, it was 2:15. After an hour at my primary care physician, I'm almost always finished with the visit, which usually includes blood work and about 15 minutes with my awesome doctor. But today, at the eye doctor, after an hour of unexplained testing, I was put in a cold room to wait for my doctor. And wait I did - for more than 45 minutes.

When the doctor came in, after 3 p.m., he was absolutely not in any way hospitable or friendly. He shook my hand abruptly and then launched right into questioning me about my headaches, with zero chit-chat or even friendly eye contact. He didn't even MAKE eye contact with me. He also yawned the entire time. He then performed a series of light tests on my eyes, then abruptly flicked the lights back on.

Dr. Shithead: Sarah, I see nothing wrong with your eyes. I cannot see any evidence that your headaches are vision related. I do not see a need to write you a new prescription. Your vision is actually very good, and I don't think you should continue wearing your glasses because they don't seem to be doing anything for you. If you have no further questions, then you won't need another exam for two years. *dismissive look*

Me: So the glasses I'm wearing currently - they aren't treating any symptoms in my eyes? Don't they contain a prescription?

Dr. Shithead: Yes, your current prescription addresses your astigmatism.

Me: Then...are you saying I no longer have astigmatism? And I don't need a corrective prescription?

Dr. Shithead: The headaches you are experiencing are probably due to fatigue. You should remember to take breaks at work, get up from your computer now and then, give your eyes a break. Unless your symptoms worsen.

Me: But doctor, I have had a headache every single day for the past three weeks, and frequently for the past couple of months. And I do take breaks at work.

Dr. Shithead: If you contact your primary care physician, and tell them that I see nothing in your eye exam, they can do further tests to explore the issue. But I see nothing in this exam to indicate that your headaches are eye-related.

(Pause here. Astigmatism absolutely causes headaches and fatigue. And he really didn't clarify if I still have it - which one would assume I do, because I'm pretty sure your cornea can't magically un-curve itself).

Dr. Shithead: If that's all your questions, then I'll give you a copy of my information *hands me his resume* and ask you to remind your friends and family of the importance of eye care. *hands me a stack of his cards* Have a nice day. *leaves without shaking hands*

The man was telling me (in the total four minutes he deigned to spend with me) that I have near-perfect vision (which I already knew, since I've never had to wear my glasses to pass an eye exam) and that he has no idea why I'm having headaches and to cease wearing corrective lenses for astigmatism, even though I've been doing so for 15 years.

...

WHAT?!

So, I was furious by this point - literally shaking. Did I mention it was now well past 3 o'clock? I went to the reception desk and was asked to pay my $50 copay. Sheesh. I hand over my debit card, still trying to make sense of the rudest doctor in the world and the fact that I basically wasted two and a half hours of my life and 50 bucks to be told basically nothing and given what I'm pretty sure is a bad set of directions.

I felt uneasy. So I asked the receptionist if she could please give me a copy of the reading of my current prescription that the first technician had done. I explained I didn't receive a new prescription, but I would like to know what my previous one was. She went to take care of it. While I was waiting, some other woman, probably the woman in charge of reception, came along and asked me what I was waiting for. I told her. She then went off to take care of it, clearly in a huff at the busy desk situation. She came back and said to me, "I can't give you an RX today because they didn't give you one."

Me: I KNOW they didn't. What I want is a copy of the CURRENT prescription - the glasses I have now.

Obnoxious Reception Manager: The doctor's recommendation is that you stop wearing your glasses.

Me: *totally fed up* Yes, I know. But you see, ma'am, I have been wearing glasses for the past 15 years and I have previously been diagnosed with astigmatism. And I would like to know what my current prescription is for my records.

Obnoxious Reception Manager: Well, it's right here, and if you'll look at this page...

Me: I cannot read that page because of the dilation.

Obnoxious Reception Manager: When your eyes settle down, you'll see that your prescription is this and your reading today is actually an improvement in some areas. So that's a great thing, and you don't need to wear your glasses or you'll become dependent on them.

.......

Me: Well, the doctor didn't explain anything to me about this.

Obnoxious Reception Manager (who is realizing how pissed off I am and that I have had a shitty, shitty experience): *suddenly much warmer* Oh, well if you had a bad experience today, if your personality didn't mesh with the doctor, don't be discouraged - when you come back in two years, you can meet with a different doctor.

Right. SO when she figured out I was mad, she starts trying to sell me on my next visit by telling me I can see someone else - IN TWO YEARS. Because lord knows I'm not going to want to pay for another visit this year - my insurance only covers on a year. I've just wasted my time on this total jerk of a doctor who is telling me not to wear my glasses because my vision is fine, but not even addressing the fact that I have astigmatism which may be contributing to my discomfort, and perhaps IT has worsened even though my vision has not.

My question is - do I not have it anymore? He didn't answer that. Mild astigmatism doesn't always require corrective lenses, but if I don't need them anymore, after 15 years, he should explain to me, in detail, why that is. If you do ANYTHING for years, and someone tells you you don't need to anymore, most people want to know HOW that miracle occurred. Did my prescription help me and right now my eyes are better? I don't know. I have no answers, and I still have headaches.

So. In summary. I spent hours and hours at the doctor. The people who treated me were abrupt and hurried. The doctor I saw was busy, tired and inattentive, had no bedside manor, did not answer my questions or help me diagnose my problem, and was downright rude and dismissive. The staff was overworked, frenzied and also sort of rude. I had to pay a $50 copay, which is actually sort of a lot of money if you think about it, and my insurance will likely not cover the entire visit, so I'll be issued a bill in the mail. And since I had no luck at the visit, if I want more help or a second opinion before I toss 15 years of optical opinions and prescriptions out the window, I have to fork over my own cash - probably a LOT of my own cash - to cover the cost, because my insurance plan only allows me $250/year for optical care - which barely covers one visit.

Awesome.

Our health care system sucks. Imagine if I had had the same experience, but with a more serious issue, like, say, BREAST CANCER. Because that's absolutely happening to a ton of people today. They're going in to talk about their BREAST CANCER and being treated the way I was, or worse, getting NO answers and having to hand over money they don't have to pay for the privilege.

For now, my plan is talk to one of the professors in our physician assistant program at work to get his opinion. And I'm also going to keep using my glasses, because I think this doctor was full of crap.

And also? I'm gonna eat cake and drink wine tonight with my husband, who doesn't suck.

Start spreadin' the news...

I am not a sports fan, but right now I feel compelled to write a bunch of sports-related posts. Probably because we're smack-dab in the middle of football season and heading into the World Series.

My husband is a big sports fan, although the least annoying one I've ever encountered (which I'll write about some other time). He's a pretty devoted follower of the Steelers, Penguins, Penn State and, last but not at all least, the New York Yankees. Over the years, despite my lifelong nonchalance about pro sports, I've kinda grown to love the Yankees. I know that's a really polarizing thing to say - and my apologies to the Phillies fans out there (I'll deal with YOU all in another post, on another day! Look at me making all these promises for other posts!) - but they're a pretty classy team (aside from all the man-whores filling their roster - we'll get back to them) with savvy management, and my low-key sports-loving husband adores them. They sort of come with the package.

Last night during game six of the Yankees/Angels series, I found myself getting totally into it. And it dawned on me that the Yankees are brilliant. They have all kinds of gimmicks to make women like them. Classy, intelligent, attractive ladies like myself.

First and foremost, of all the sports teams I can think of, the Yankees have the best colors/uniforms/logo. I love the crisp white and blue striped outfits they wear at home and the modest gray and blue they wear on the road. Very classy.

I'm sorry, but the Browns, Steelers and Dolphins all come to mind as having some of the ugliest uniforms on the planet. Brown plus orange equals ugly, and it means that all of the die-hard Browns fans out there, God love 'em, are constantly garbed in some of the most heinous tee shirts, jerseys and hats in the world. And Steelers fashions aren't much better. I'm SO glad they have the Terrible Towel, so my husband can join in the team spirit without wearing the ugly fashions.

But the YANKEES! The Yankees have NICE-LOOKING tee shirts and jerseys that any lady would be proud to wear! And don't forget the awesome logo designed by Tiffany's - that right there is a sure-fire way to get a lady to like your team.

Also? Frank Sinatra. Complete and total genius - every time the Yankees win at home, Frank starts crooning "New York, New York" and every pair of panties in the stadium moistens - or at least gets a little sweaty. Seriously, who doesn't love Frank? All the men and women of America love Frank Sinatra. Period. Way to cap off a victory. Makes me want an Old Fashioned every time.

And, last but not least, the Yankees are a GOOD LOOKING TEAM. Lots of the baseball teams out there are, how can I put it...fugly? Unkempt? Fat? I'm at a loss for words, because I'm too busy fantasizing about the hot, hot specimens in the Yankees' lineup.

Oh, A-Rod...you hunky man-whore, you...

 

...not to be confused with this other hunky man-whore. Hey, Derek Jeter - you're not playing up to snuff, pal, so get with the program.

 

And I personally have a crush on Rivera as well.

And, as if all of that weren't reason enough to love the Yankees, when your man drags you to the game, he's not dragging you to Dallas, or Cincinnati, or New Jersey. He's dragging you to New-fuckin'-YORK! You ever meet anyone who didn't like New York? Didn't think so.

So! Let's tally: we've got hot guys wearing good-looking uniforms all set to the tunes of Frank Sinatra in the greatest city in the country. Yep. I'm sold. The Yankees are the best damn team on the planet. Look out, Philly - we've got a bunch of hot, well-dressed sluts headed to kill you!

Now let's all have a happy, peaceful and non-inflammatory World Series, shall we?

Weather you like it or not...

Big news! It's been in the 50s all week here in Charlotte! And it's been raining!

It's a magical phenomenon that happens every year. Two weeks ago it was in the 80s and people were whining their heads off about it. "I'm tired of warm weather! It's October! Why can't we have some fall weather?" Then, amazingly, when the temperature descends to a more fall-like number, everyone commences with the bitching. "It's freezing! Oh my god, I'm so cold, I can't stand it! It's freezing!" No, people. It's 56 degrees. It is most certainly NOT freezing. In Maine, where it was 36 degrees the other day? That's near enough to call freezing.

It's definitely true that if you live in the South all your life, your body isn't equipped to handle cold weather the way a Northerner's is. 55 feels like 35 to a Southerner. So I'll excuse the true Southerners on this one. But those of us who have migrated here really ought to know better. Our bodies acclimate so the summers are less brutal (but we still whine about them) and we become less tolerant of colder temperatures. But I like to remind myself this time of year that it's in fact not freezing, that somewhere a couple day's drive away my parents really ARE legitimately freezing their asses off in Maine. Perspective, people!

However, the Southerners aren't the only ones bitching up a storm. I've got friends all over Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York whining about how IT MIGHT SNOW THIS WEEKEND! OHMYGOD! IT'S TOO SOON FOR SNOW! Friends, I'm not sure where you've been for the last several decades, but October is not too soon for an occasional snowfall in New England or the Midwest. At all. And you know this. So shut up.

I guess here's the thing - in general, I just sort of hate it when people grumble about the weather. First of all, it doesn't help matters. Whining about the weather is most decidedly NOT going to change it. And it's gonna bring everyone else in the room down. Let's find something else to bitch about around the water cooler. Or maybe let's not complain at all! Why not focus on the positives, like the fact that 55 degrees means I get to start breaking out my cute fall/winter wardrobe? And if it snows this weekend, you'll have an excuse to hole up, drink a warming beverage (screw hot chocolate, go for brandy!) and build a fire in your fireplace. Awesome.

Those who are really chronic about their weather-bitching just absolutely get on my nerves. I've actually been meaning to say this out loud (or write this out loud, I suppose) for a long time and now I'm going to do it. If you hate the weather enough to consistently bitch about it, why don't you move? Hmm? No one forced you to live in New York where it's cold and snowy, or in Georgia where it's hot as balls. If you're so unhappy that you spend MONTHS OF YOUR LIFE whining and moaning about the damn weather, HOW ABOUT YOU MOVE? Because clearly it's a significant enough factor in your daily happiness that you should maybe think about it. Ever hear of seasonal affective disorder? It's a real thing. Maybe you have it. Maybe you should address it - BY MOVING. I think I hear Florida calling your name

And don't say you can't move. Because you can. I've lived in 6 states. I'm probably gonna live in a few more, too. I think the summers in the South are too hot but I really, REALLY try not to complain because I'M THE ONE WHO MOVED TO THE SOUTH. You don't get to OPT to live in the South and then whine about how hot it is. SERIOUSLY. If you don't like the heat, they make these awesome states like Washington, and Maine, and New Hampshire, where you can live most of the year without ever feeling too hot! Amazing!

So here's my big request. Do you think it's possible, people, that we could go through this fall/winter with a LITTLE TINY BIT less bitching and moaning about the weather? We get it. It's cold in the North, and it snows a lot. If you don't like it, move somewhere warmer, because I personally love winter and miss the snow. My parents may indeed be freezing their butts off in Maine, but they don't whine about it. Why? Because they CHOSE to live there. So instead of complaining, they just comment and move on. Dad, as he comes in for lunch after spending the morning in his workshop: "It's colder than a witch's titty out there!" And everyone laughs. That wasn't so hard, now was it?

And Southerners, why don't you pour yourselves a nice, WARM glass of shut the hell up, because IT'S NOT THAT COLD. Last year on Christmas day, temperatures in Charlotte reached 70 degrees and my poor dad, who is completely unable to tolerate the heat, was forced to strip down to his undershirt and mop sweat from his brow with his flannel.

Thanks, y'all.

And in a few hours, I'm off to LEGITIMATELY cold Ohio, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it!

Dark and twisty.

It's the second rainy and gloomy day in a row. Yesterday, people were tolerating it, saying things like, "Well, we really need this rain." Today they're bitching. Me? I'm in heaven. I LIKE dark and rainy days. There, I said it. I like them BETTER than sunny days. Still with me? You might want to sit down for this one - I've lived in the south for more than five years now, and I still miss snow. And I'm not talking about missing it in that, "Gee, it would sure be nice if it snowed one weekend" kinda way. No. I miss the five straight months of snow on the ground that was the standard when I lived in upstate New York.

I'm weird. I know it. I'm a night owl, and I like it dark and stormy. As much as I love a week at the beach and laying in the hot sun, the majority of the time I'm a happy camper when it's drizzly and gloomy. Plus, on rainy days I have an excuse for not bothering to straighten my wavy hair.

I guess I'm just a dark kind of person. I'm a night owl - I can't fall asleep before eleven p.m. I like to stay up all night and then sleep through the mornings. If I had my way, I'd never be in bed before midnight or up before 9 a.m., not even to stand on top of Cadillac Mountain to see the sunrise before anyone else in the east coast.

And let's just go ahead and take this a step further. Not only do I like the physical dark - I like dark and moody things. I'd rather cry my eyes out reading Atonement than laugh out loud over chick lit. I prefer sweeping period dramas like Out of Africa to blockbuster films like Transformers or anything with Jennifer Aniston. I'd rather listen to moody, sorrowful tunes by the Dandy Warhols than Carrie Underwood pop.

So, here's my question - is it normal to be so dark and twisty? To actually enjoy the process of quiet introspection and emotional outpouring? To prefer to cry over a movie than watch 30 Rock? Because the thing is, these things don't make me feel bad - rainy days, "depressing" movies and tv shows - they make me think. They let me curl up and feel - my favorite pastime.

It can be hard sometimes, being a fan of the dark stuff. Friends don't want to watch the shows I want to watch, and they don't run out to see the movies I want to see. I think I'm probably the only person I know who a) read The Road and b) can't wait to see the movie. Was it depressing? Yes, absolutely, but it was GOOD!

Sad stories make me feel better about my life. Rainy days make the sunny ones special. And when it's dark, that's my quiet me-time. But don't go getting any crazy ideas - I'm no Twilight fan.

The ugly truth.

Let me ask you an honest question. Have you ever desperately wanted to just tell someone straight-up what you think about them? No lead-in, no buildup, just tell them. Maybe it's a coworker who just gets on your nerves, or it could be someone you've been friends with since kindergarten. I have a handful of people in my life who I am just DYING to say something to, directly and for their own good.

But that would be super shitty of me, right? It would fly in the face of everything I've worked so hard on, personality-wise. You know - not making judgy statements all the time, keeping my opinions to myself until asked. This would be a huge setback for me - uncharted waters. I mean you can't just say to a friend "I think your boyfriend is a complete jerk, and you're an idiot to be with him." You've gotta have some kind of lead-in for a statement like that - she has to come to you crying for the 900th time with the same tired problem and say, "Well what do you think?" Until you hear those four magical words - "what," "do," "you" and "think," in that order, you cannot say a single word. Unless you want that person to hate you (which has totally happened to me before). And I don't.

But I'm just BURSTING! BURSTING WITH OPINIONS AND JUDGY STATEMENTS! So here, in no particular order and completely anonymously, are a handful (ok, a laundry list) of the things I would love to say to a few people if I could do so without getting an ass-kicking. Some of them are meant to help, some are meant to put someone in his/her place. All are completely true. And please - don't send me an email asking if such and such was about you. Seriously. It probably wasn't.

• Your fiance/spouse is the most vile and disgusting human being I have ever met, and my opinion of you has completely imploded based on your decision to date/marry him/her.
• You are in complete denial about your immaturity.
• You should reconsider becoming a parent, because you don't like children and aren't cut out for the job.
• You need to start taking care of yourself, because you're becoming unrecognizable to me and everyone else.
• You don't know how to communicate, and you really need to learn before you take the next step.
• Every time you speak to me, I feel like erupting with irritation.
• I wish you weren't in my life, because our relationship is completely toxic and poisonous.
• You are the most narcissistic person I have ever known, and I wish you realized how little anyone cares about all the things you think you're so great at, and how sub-par your talent really is.
• You're settling.
• You need to learn to be alone.
• Your spouse is an alcoholic.
• Your child is spoiled and intolerable.
• I am smarter than you, and I should have your job.
• I can tell that every single word out of your mouth is a lie.

Wow, that felt so good! EVERYONE has things they're dying to say - what are some of yours? I invite you to unload them, names left out please, and kept as anonymous as possible as far as who they're geared toward, right here in my comments section. It will feel incredible, I swear. Just typing these words was such a relief!

And again, may I reiterate - DO NOT ask me if these comments are about you. They're not. These are things we have all thought at one time or another about someone. That's the point. We all wish we could just unburden ourselves with the ugly truth.

I hate you, week.

I think some weeks are sent directly from the hottest corners of Hades to try our very souls. This is one of those weeks.

Jay is out west this week, so I'm home alone with the doggie. I'm directing a children's play which goes up next weekend, and this week is consequently FULL of rehearsals. I'm also cat-sitting for a friend this week, so I'm not getting home till about 11 pm most nights. 

Yesterday (Monday) was a really irritating day because of the length of it but also because, at 1:30-ish, I learned that I have a particularly nasty virus on my work computer which rendered all productivity impossible for the remainder of the day. I spent the afternoon waiting for our very busy IT department to return my call, trying to fix it myself (to no avail) and doing some office cleanup, but it was worthless. When I heard back from IT at the end of the day and learned that it might take several hours to fix the thing, I decided to work from home on Tuesday so I could actually get stuff done.

SO. I get home last night, quickly scarf something and I head to bed to pass out.

At 4 IN THE MORNING, I wake up to a god-awful noise - some kind of alarm is going off in my house. My dog is panicking. I locate the box making the noise, and it's something on the ceiling with no purpose that I am aware of. It's also got no switch of any kind to stop the dreaded noise, and so I go out to the garage to get Jay's toolbox to crack open the thing and investigate. Please understand, it's still blaring at a decibel that is indescribable. I procure the tools and begin to unscrew the screw that holds this thing to the ceiling. The shell then falls in my face, along with plaster and dust. Inside, there is STILL no switch of any kind, just dubious-looking wiring that I'm hesitant to yank out at 4 am and electrocute myself. The dog, she is panicking.

So. It's been ten minutes, I'm half deaf, and I decide I have no choice but to call Jay and ask him if he knows what to do. It's 1 am out in Seattle (1:30, rather), and so it takes several tries before he picks up the phone. When he does, he is understandably alarmed (no pun intended). He walks me through opening the circuit breaker and such, and I fool around with it, dodging palmetto bugs prancing merrily across the garage floor and me in my bare feet and beginning to feel somewhat hysterical. Nothing happens. I go back in the house defeated and reattach the bleeping machine - and it magically shuts up. It's now 5:25 am.

I'm breathing a tentative sigh of relief now - maybe I can go back to bed? Maybe? Did I mention my period is all messed up and I've been having it for seriously 8 days now? So I'm crampy, I've had a bad Monday, I'm tired - I want to SLEEP. I head back to bed, I get in - and all of a sudden, I hear beeping. BEEPING. I get up and it takes me several minutes to LOCATE the beeping, until finally I trace it to our defunct security system, which to my knowledge has never ever worked. (Don't tell anyone, the last thing I need is someone breaking into my house!) The last beeping alarm was a blaring, nonstop, skull-breaking beep - an incessant, ear-splitting, cannot-stay-in-the-house-with-it sort of beep. THIS beep is more of a soft, quiet, intermittent, nagging kind of beep, with spaces in between each tone juuust long enough to make you think it's over when it's assuredly not.

I open the panel up on the little alarm system doohickey and there is astoundingly little there to help me. I start pushing buttons and nothing happens, and so I start hating my life a little bit. And then I get out the phone book and begin looking up electricians - as if any of them will come to my house at 5:30 am. I decide I'm just going to go to bed and try to sleep through this horrible beeping, but on a final whim I hit a random button on the little panel and, lo and behold, the beeping stops. I think I seriously shed a couple of tears of joy at that moment.

Seriously. This kind of stuff only happens to me. You know what's happening to JAY, the magical alien, this week? He's getting to work and explore in two awesome new cities, look at water and boats and ginormous mountains, eat awesome food, stay in a swanky hotel, and get upgraded to first-class. Ain't that always the way of it?

Eat 'til you hate yourself.

We just returned from our annual week-long vacation in Holden Beach, North Carolina. As always, it was a week of utter rest and relaxation. The sitting! The reading! It was also, as always, a week of utter and disgusting gluttony. The eating! The drinking!

I don't know what it is about being on vacation with a bunch of friends, but all of my normal healthy eating habits fly completely out the window. The funny part is, I still found myself getting 1-2 hours of exercise every single day on vacation, so that part of my routine is seemingly unshakable at this point. I can't just sit around all day - I've gotta go for a walk or do some Pilates or take a bike ride. But all the smart portions and carefully counted calories go totally out the window. If my friends are stuffing their faces with chips and salsa (and I will divulge to you that between all of us, over 150 ounces of tortilla chips were consumed), I cannot resist stuffing mine too. If everyone else is having 3 burgers, I'm gonna have a burger - even though I don't eat red meat and it makes me violently ill (EVERY DAMN TIME)!

I think at some point during the week I tweeted about this, and I got several responses to the effect of "Have you forgotten how to be on vacation?" "Don't you know how to relax and enjoy eating?" Yes, I realize that vacations are supposed to be about relaxing and indulging, but seriously - one OUGHT to be able to indulge without nearly killing oneself with food.

And that's precisely what we did. All week long. It doesn't help that we had SEVERAL great cooks at the beach, and every single night was a damn gourmet meal. We had a lowcountry boil, homemade pizzas made of homemade dough, pizzas made of filo dough and feta cheese, Cajun shrimp with steamed rice and veggies, a Mexican feast with fish and chicken tacos, some kind of outrageous chicken and pasta number concocted on the fly with found ingredients, and a ridiculous seafood dinner at a local shack. It was obscene. I probably gained 6 pounds in a week, and I'm not even lying. The jeans I had on the night before vacation were falling off, and when we got back they were snug. It will take me two weeks in the gym and several hefty shits to reclaim my former physique. 

This doesn't even allow for the drinking. I can't express to you how much I drank last week, except to tell you that Spragg and I decided it would be a GREAT idea to stay up till 5 a.m. the last night finishing off all the liquor. Including a bottle of Sutter Home chardonnay. Ew.

So now it's detox time, serious, intense detox. And what better way to kick that off than a final Mexican dinner Saturday night back in Charlotte with Jen and Matt, during which we killed 3, yes 3 baskets of tortilla chips and some kind of meat and pastry appetizer, huge entrees and margaritas the size of my head? The whole time we were going, SERIOUSLY GUYS, detox starts tomorrow! And then Sunday morning, Matt and Jen's last request before flying home to NYC was Waffle House. WAFFLE FUCKIN' HOUSE. The unhealthiest eatery on the entire goddamn planet. You know what I ate? Two sausage patties and a waffle. It was everything I could do to stuff that food down my throat, because by that time I seriously had food coming out my ears, nose and eyes. But Matt packed it in like a champ, ordering the biggest breakfast I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, he got just about everything on their menu and ate 90% of it. It was disgusting and AWESOME and Jen and Jay and I almost died with him in the car afterward. Way to go out with a bang.

So for the next several weeks, not only will I not be drinking (much), but I plan to eat nothing but watery soups, lettuce and teaspoon-sized servings of protein, in combination with 120-plus minutes of cardio activity daily till my muscles literally explode. I figure if I do that for the next 6 weeks I might fit back into my fall clothes by the time it starts to be cool outside. Maybe.

*Note: I've received more than a handful of personal notes and emails today from concerned readers who think I'm over-anxious about diet and exercise. Let me be clear - I enjoyed the hell out of my week of eating, and I did have fun and relax. This post was meant to be a comical musing on the sheer excess of eating this week by all of our party, not so much as me feeling bad about it. I feel fine - but it's definitely time to return to good form. I'm not REALLY going to eat lettuce and water. I totes had a cookie last night, and a glass of wine. But just one.