Complaint #163: Pinterest

Last night I was over at my friend Miriam’s house, a happy place I regularly frequent since my Lieutenant has been in Afghanistan for 7 months and I get bored some evenings. We were discussing the world of Pinterest and all the obnoxious fads that currently abound which we grudgingly like but can’t, as snobs, jump on the wagon for. “Modern vintage” typewriters in wedding pictures, the chevron print, all things yellow and gray. The list is long and I don’t want this post to be – but I came across another one today. This quote:

Firstly, bad advice. Secondly, I’m an anglophile and therefore I should like this so I feel confused. Thirdly, I just hate this fad where everything is a quote you frame. Apparently just because a phrase is written in a cute font in bright colors it merits a place hanging over a fireplace next to a picture of Jesus.  It reminds me of a line from the movie ‘Easy A’: “I don't know what your generation's fascination is with documenting your every thought... but I can assure you, they're not all diamonds.”  AND FOURTHLY, I was studying in London when the 2005 bombings happened and I talked to Brits who actually said this exact same thing, so I get that particular quote. But what is with the American preoccupation in decorating and designing all kinds of crap with things like this:

Okay so that dresser is kind of awesome, and The Union Jack is a pretty cool flag, but I feel like I should be wearing a pirate hat and selling East India Company opium to the unsuspecting Chinese when I see this.

We live in America and do you know how hard it is to find stuff with your basic American flag on it? Too hard, that’s how.  So far I’ve got my WW2 propaganda up and framed, but I’ve scoured the internets for some olde colonial décor to embellish my gun case with and still have nothing. No thanks to you Pinterest or Etsy. Though I could find handmade jewelry and vintage dresses and chevron throw pillows all the live long day.

On a more positive note - I shall be spending Valentines night with a diet coke in one hand and a super dark & fatty bar of chocolate in the other. Cheers.

I love a man in uniform

I know! This totally comes out of nowhere because it's been a few months or 11. If I weren't so lazy I'd probably create a poll where you could vote on what happened to me. The options would be something like:

A) In the hospital with amnesia
B) Moved to be with her kindred spirits in The South and currently out hog hunting
C) Got sucked into a black hole of watching Kardashian re-runs
D) A man

Much to the dismay of all, the answer is D! High fives and free drinks for everyone because I done gone and got myself hitched ya'll! Check it.

Bonus points: He's in the Navy AND hot.

Here's how it happened: He came strutting into church one day and I was like, "Who is THAT tall drink of water?" Then a year ago he finally asked me out. We went out almost every weekend after that. He asked me to marry him while eating a bowl of rice in my parent's kitchen in March, and we tied the knot in May. And tra la la - here we are a little over 5 months later and now he's off being a stud in Afghanistan.So that's what I've been doing.

More photo evidence? Ok, but just a few.

You want to know why I really married him? Because all that man has to do is crinkle his baby blues and smile and, boy scout swear, a rainbow will shoot out of your chest and end in a pot of swoon. I'm teen girl squealing inside.

And what would a wedding be without a honeymoon? Lame, that's what. So we took a jaunt over to Caye Caulker, an island off the coast of Belize.

Please focus your attention on the scuba gear in the background:

I wore that. 80 FEET UNDERWATER. WHAT! And I hate marine life up in my business. I guess I must love him. But my adventurism didn't end there. . .

Next stop: Old Crumbling Temples That You Can Climb On Because Clearly They're Not Too Worried About Lawsuits, Bless Them And Their Legal Ways!

Yes, those are each a different temple and H to the NO did I climb any one of them. My husband did though, because he is a man and foolishly laughs in the face of tripping on those wicked steps and breaking his neck. Which 100% would've happened to me.

 Bonus: We took a river boat to get there! It was like Disneyland's Jungle Cruise minus the cap gun, fake animals and awesome jokes. Instead we had poisonous acid-barked trees and crocs and this gross thing -

- and homemade Belizian food AND six Europeans that were going to be the first to go if our boat sank and the crocodiles were prowling. Which made it 10,000 times better than the jungle cruise.

Plus, I had a lieutenant there with me which makes things a bajillion times more interesting.

SA-WOON.

I Resolve for YOU

My love of Year End Wrap Ups has been sufficiently documented, but frankly, I'm too lazy busy to catalog The Best And Worst Of 2010. And as most of you also know, I am really into seasonal goals that don't actually do much to improve my character or increase my health. Whatever! Those are the only goals I sometimes accomplish, so judge away. But let's discuss that one topic that never gets mentioned this time of year: Resolutions.

Since we have reached that blessed time when humans everywhere take stock of their many shortcomings and give a Valiant Effort – till March – to correct noted flaws, I am going to change it up a little this year. I'm going to make resolutions for other people. It's both a talent and a service! Here is the list I have come up with so far:

More restaurants should resolve to offer sandwiches/paninis with Nutella as the main ingredient. Because very nearly everything tastes better with Nutella. In fact, it should also be offered as a sauce/side to all entrees and appetizers. Watch out ketchup!

The Indianapolis Colts should resolve to win more games. I mean – what happened? Peyton is practically Zeus reincarnate. I know there have been injuries and yada yada yada, so maybe Austin Collie and Dallas Clark should resolve to
stop getting hurt.

THE NEIGHBORS should resolve to stop smoking, stop buying horrible yappy dogs they neglect, stop re-landscaping with their newfound inheritance money since we both know it will be a field of weeds doubling as a parking lot in a couple months anyway, and stop living next door.

All authors everywhere should resolve to create a male character that doesn't have crooked/lopsided/uneven but Completely Adorable smile. Please tell me that I'm not the only one who gags when EVERY MALE LEAD in every book has this wack mouth. Or maybe I am the only one who notices, because I don't have many YA fic lovin friends and am probably totally alone in this grievance. But whatev – the point is: What does a crooked smile look like?! I get that it's supposed to be this cute and unique faux-flaw on Otherwise Flawless Boy – but it always sounds kind of gross to me.

Celebrities and "celebrities" should resolve to stop naming their babies crazy-a names. Pilot Inspektor? Buddy Bear Maurice? Perhaps I ought to send "Welcome to Earth!" cards to these rich and famous, complete with tips on How To Not Screw Up Your Child Who Will Probably Interact With Normal Humans For The Rest Of Its Life.

What about you guys – any resolutions you would make for everybody else?

Dear Santa,

We've never had a real chat, you and I. And by real I mean me writing a blog post on The Internet to you, which of course you will receive with delight. I think you'd agree that it's time we cleared a few things up.

So here's the deal: I've been a goodish girl this year. I turn a blind eye to THE NEIGHBORS, I recycle, I stopped flipping people off when they cut me off in traffic. I even smiled at some nutty old lady the other day in Trader Joes. That's what we call PROGRESS, Mr. Claus.

So my question is thus: When will I finally get the awesome presents that I deserve?

I know they say that this season isn't about the presents you get, but that is a load of LIES. Gifts are the reason I stuff my year full of good deeds. And at this point I think I have earned something more than flannel pajama sets and scented candles.

What I'm trying to say is that I need black Louboutin pumps, a big Marc Jacobs purse, and a dainty gold necklace for starters. We can move onto bigger items next year, since there is some supposed economic crisis going on.

I don't want to sound all scroogey with my needs; it's not like I don't love the Christmas spirit because I DO. This is the only time of year I stuff myself full of nogg and gingerbread cookies ON PURPOSE. It's just that I appreciate tangible benefits for all the troubles I go to with my giving heart.

And should you doubt that I deserve what I so desire, let he who is without blame cast himself off the sleigh. YOU, Jolly Ole' St. Nicholas, are the one who sees us when we're sleeping and knows when we're awake. In other words, pervy.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Tara

Welcome to Hogwarts – Please choose 1 of 4 stereotypes and take a seat

Happy Harry Potter #7 vol.1 Release Season ya'll. Hope you got your midnight viewing tickets ordered because those suckers were sold out an eternity ago. I for one prefer to view my films with some semblance of alertness and cognition – and a #2 from In-N-Out with a neopolitan shake -- so I'm gonna forgo on the 12:03 show in the Roxy Theater tonight Sam, but thanks.

A while back I read a blog about some galpals who found themselves constantly sorting all types of human, real and fiction alike, into the different Hogwarts Houses. And I was like – WE ARE SOUL MATES 4 LIFE. Because after my fifth time reading through the whole series, I found me doing the same thing. Like, I'd be sitting in church and look down the pew in front of me, head by head, and make a case why Lori McWhiteTeeth would be in Ravenclaw, or Daniel "Kung Fu" Smith would be in Gryffindor. What? Like you ALWAYS pay attention in church. Whatevs.

The point is – I realized something. I bet that most of us HP fans have often mused about how mind-blowingly awesome it would be if we went to Hogwarts, and how we would TOTALLY be in Gryffindor because they obvs give the smackdown to all other houses on a weekly basis and how Oliver Wood would feel like 15 bludgers just came crashing into him if we came strutting our stuff out onto the Quidditch pitch. And we would be besties with the Weasley twins AND Peeves and find ways to subtly light Draco Malfoy's robes on fire in the hallway.

But you know what ya'll? Most of us WOULDN'T be Gryffindor, okay? I might be doing a bit of adding upon with the JKR Cannon, so don't burn me at the stake or anything, but we only have so much to go on description-wise about the four houses from the books. And we just CAN'T all be heroes, you know? Like Will Rogers said, someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they march triumphantly by. And you and me pal? We're probably the curb-sitting clappers.

What I would really love to see happen is for people to just CHILL OUT about Gryffindor and accept that if they got Sorted, they'd probably be Hufflepuffs.

Gryffindors are indeed Brave At Heart, and Loyal and True, as well as optimistic and idealists. They just can't do half-hearted gestures. I mean, look at Fred and George. For most of us, a nice "Up yours! The DA FOREVER!!" and the finger to Umbridge as we stormed out of school for the last effing time would have been huge. But the twins have to go fly around on banned broomsticks, conjuring up nasty swamps in the hallways and setting off nuke-size fireworks. And then of course there's Harry. Our bad-a Voldemort-hunting Hero, who can also be a bit rash and probably would have found himself having nightly pillow duels with Neville's parents in St. Mungo's if it hadn't been for The Brains of the operation, Hermoine. So while the Gryffs dominate Quidditch and have chivalry oozing from their big hearts and out of their pores, they aren't really known for their calm and cool logical abilities.

For the House of Gryffindor, I place . . . My brother Sam. Who cried a lot as a child, but now is in Junior High ASB and is a protector of the weak and friendless. Love for the scarlet and gold!

Ravenclaws = nerdy pants, right? Well – yes. But that's not all! While it's true that Rowena Ravenclaw claimed that "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she never said anything about humility or kindness. And if you have to slip a puking pastel into the oatmeal of your best friend who is also top in the class to claim that "greatest treasure" for yourself before you head off to midterms, well, so be it. Of course, most Raves are kind – as Luna Lovegood is the walking proof of this. And –er, creative. And Luna's crazy jewelry is also proof of this. So while you might want to look elsewhere if what you desire is an emotional hug, you're gonna want a Ravenclaw on speed dial should you "accidentally" break international wizarding law or need some last-minute help on schematics for a new flying car.

For the House of Ravenclaw, I place . . . The alpha male who shall remain nameless that I went out with that one time. Smart? check. Ambitious? check. Witty? check. Unsupportive of my love of karaoke? Double check.

Hufflepuffs were always kind of sad to me. I mean, what do they do? The best thing they produced was Cedric Diggory – and look what happened to him. The name isn't doing any wonder for them either. And they're ghost is The Fat Friar?! Come on. Is he at least funny? Don't think so, though he sounds like he should be, which makes me feel cheated somehow.

I've come to realize though that Huffs may be the best kept secret of Hogwarts. They're just so "Whatever" with a side of "Let's eat some ice cream and have some laughs." Huffies are known for being Just, True, Loyal and Hard-working. Which to me translates into the kids in class who get As because of sheer will power, not smarts. They're like the Blues from The Color Code – totally COMMITTED. To work, to ideals and most importantly: relationships. Maybe to the point of un.health.y. Still, you'll want one of these in your back pocket should you ever find yourself in a bar fight – because Huffs have got yo back.

For the House of Hufflepuff, I place . . . my old roomie from the days of yore, Natalie! Because she was totally Blue, and super loyal and fun. And hot. Come to think of it, that might another thing them Huffies have going for 'em . . .

I've often felt over the years that Slytherin suffers from a bad rap that isn't always deserved. I think it's one of those cases where the crazies who are screaming for pure blood and HP's head on a stick that get all the attention. And sure, Draco And Co. are pretty obnoxious. But the rest of the Slytherins were just, you know, hanging out plotting their next move in their dank, bleak common room. Because the Slyths are nothing if not great leaders; cunning, confident and ambitious to the max. Which is why for the House of Slytherin, I place . . .

Myself.

Yep. While I have no interest in slaughtering those not of my race or religion, I've never claimed to be the kind to Follow My Heart. My loyalty remains with myself and what/whomever will get me favors and secrets and candy. At first I was like, Well maybe I'm Ravenclaw. But Raves aren't usually grappling for power, and I WANT POWER. Where Gryffs and Huffs are concerned, it's all "I'll be a martyr!" and "I'll never break your heart!" But with us Slyths, its our AIM to break some hearts and burn some bridges – all with style and flourish, of course.

 

So. What think ye of my Sorting Hat abilities? And what house would YOU belong in?

Selling Myself

There are many things in life that I just love to hear over and over again from people who have no connection to my life whatsoever. One of my all time favorites is, "Why aren't you married yet? Are you really picky or something?" That one makes me feel like a million bucks every time. When I was younger I wasn't sure how to respond to that one. Now I have many responses, the most effective being "It's sad how many guys will write you off because of a mild case of gonorrhea," coupled with a dainty sigh and a shrug.

Last week I was asked to fill out a dating survey. Which I filled out WITH PLEASURE. So it's got me to thinking of ways to increase the demand for the goods, as it were. Two things were pretty clear to me right off the bat. Obviously I should start wearing way less clothing on a daily basis. And I should do more Captain Morgan poses. Wearing the hat and sword and boots ONLY.

Also. I think it would also be really helpful if I created a LOVE RESUME for myself! It's time for a lesson in self-respect ya'll. The thing is, I should probably make this PG rated which means my colorful and explicit background should only be hinted at, like it was here. It's all about honesty you know.

What we're having right here is some brainstorming, so feel free to contribute ideas that I can add to my resume. So far I think this stuff should be mentioned:

-- I have high yet reasonable standards. While I've often gone out with a 9, I have NEVER dated a 3, or a relative.

-- I like things clean and orderly! So you better believe I will hire THE BEST maid that minimum wage can buy.

-- I'm really happy, patient and loving! Excpet in situations involving most animals, small children, crying, stress, forced monogamy, my favorite football teams sucking, weird smells, lack of ice cream in the freezer, anything related to Mockingjay, no fresh flowers on my kitchen table, and annoying people.

-- I'm into saving the environment! I always cut up those plastic soda can holders before I dump them into the ocean so that the poor birdies don't get their beaks all jacked up in them.

-- I'm super supportive! When you get home from work after a long and stressful day, I'll let you release all that pent-up anger by giving me a good back rub.

Hm. I feel like it's missing some things. It's a good start though, right? Body flaunting is a good first step in the right direction.

What's My Age Again?

Sometimes I find myself in situations where I wonder if my Life Ambition is to be a cougar. And I'm not referring to the furry school mascot. No, I mean COUGAR.




I see these women all over the place, what with the year round warmth and 24-hour tanning beds and Botox Vans That Make House Calls, who obviously can't let go of their Glorious Days Of Real Youth and age gracefully. Not that these fashion mistakes make them Cougars, but I'm a good judger and I can just tell. It's got something to do with the really low designer jeans paired with a flowy-satiny-sequined tank top and the way certain wobbley bits hang out. Gosh at least put on a bra woman! Did you trip on your 5-inch heels and mistakenly think you woke up in 1981? Because guess what? Forever 21 is a store, not a mantra.


Anyway. Even though I'm in my twenties, I'm pretty sure that the new fragrance "Cougar: Denial" was accidentally sprayed on me a few too many times on Friday night. When I went to THE. MOST. AWESOME. high school football game ever.


I was sitting on the bleachers with another twenty-something, critiquing play successes and failures with incredible insight and accuracy, and then doing plenty of cheering and dancing when the occasion called for it, when this conversation began:


Her: Oh no - I think I might be turning into one of THOSE women (pointing to every mom on the visitors bleachers).


Me: What tipped you off first? The fact that you're at a high school football game with other single girls? or the fact that #20 keeps popping up in our game analysis, even when he's on the bench?

Her: I had this thought when I first saw those 5-foot, 85-lb. blond girls wearing only their underwear and body paint with their boyfriends' number on their stomachs--

Me: That you wanted to let them borrow your scarf?

Her: No! That I wish I was one when I was in high school.

Me: (stunned silence) Sooo . . . practically naked?

Her: You know - the girl who dated the quarterback.

Me: Or the whole football team.

Her: Well OBVIOUSLY I'd where more than a swath of jersey around my loins.

Me: Why? I'd wear that every day if I could.


I thought about her comment for a minute, and realized -- I TOTALLY AGREE. I was never a Jersey Chaser, but in my mind I totally was AND STILL AM. My pride would never allow me to admit to it, but I would be all over a decent-looking and non-sweaty athlete if given the chance.
..What? Don't judge me.

I told my friend the moment I put it all together, and she's like, "Yeah I think you'll end up like that (head nodding back toward moms) too, just watch. We've never dated athletes, so it probably means we can't ever let go of high school."

Shudder.

But you know what? Whatever. What. Ever. Being all deep and principled and dignified is always toted as being "better." But better for whom? For ME?! Since when has dignity gotten me anywhere? Maybe those I'm 23 But Actually 49 women are onto something. There's only way to know.

So guys - new fall goal!