I just waxed my legs for the first time, and I'm feeling a little Bridget Jones-esque: brilliant idea spirals into frustrating -- yet slightly humorous -- catastrophe. Think blue soup.
So, there's wax everywhere. In my microwave. On my sink. On my bathroom floor. Somehow on my arms.
The newspaper I put down to protect the floor is sticking to my feet as I traipse back and forth, back and forth to the kitchen to remicrowave the wax.
The only redeeming fact is that it seems the amount of hair on my legs is indirectly proportional to the amount of wax lurking unsuspectingly on everything I touch.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Which president would you date?
My roommate and I have been watching The Presidents, a History Channel DVD set we got from the library that provides a 15-minute biography on each of the presidents. Droll, you say? Not if you play the Which-president-would-I-date? game. So far, my judgment has been very poor on this subject.
When Andrew Jackson started making appearances during the first few presidents' biographies, I was a little starstruck. He was the Defender of New Orleans against the French, he fought off the Indians and the Brits in Florida and claimed her for the United States against the Spaniards...and he had awesome hair (How did he get such big hair in an age before hair products?). I announced my crush to my history-buff friend David, who immediately cried "Folly." David said that I had not chosen wisely--Andrew Jackson was practically guilty of genocide. Thousands of Indians died when Jackson had them uprooted and sent on The Trail of Tears.
David was right. The next night I watched Andrew Jackson's biography. He was a crazy man. He let the U.S. Bank--the bank that prints U.S. currency--die just because its supporters were his enemies. He courted and wed a married woman. He disagreed with a Supreme Court ruling--the ruling that allowed the Cherokee Indians in Georgia to stay on their land--so he ignored it and sent the Indians packing anyway.
This was an unwisely placed crush.
You might notice a crush theme in my postings. All I can say is that the crushes are getting progressively less realistic: first my neighbor, then famous writers, then a dead guy.
When Andrew Jackson started making appearances during the first few presidents' biographies, I was a little starstruck. He was the Defender of New Orleans against the French, he fought off the Indians and the Brits in Florida and claimed her for the United States against the Spaniards...and he had awesome hair (How did he get such big hair in an age before hair products?). I announced my crush to my history-buff friend David, who immediately cried "Folly." David said that I had not chosen wisely--Andrew Jackson was practically guilty of genocide. Thousands of Indians died when Jackson had them uprooted and sent on The Trail of Tears.
David was right. The next night I watched Andrew Jackson's biography. He was a crazy man. He let the U.S. Bank--the bank that prints U.S. currency--die just because its supporters were his enemies. He courted and wed a married woman. He disagreed with a Supreme Court ruling--the ruling that allowed the Cherokee Indians in Georgia to stay on their land--so he ignored it and sent the Indians packing anyway.
This was an unwisely placed crush.
You might notice a crush theme in my postings. All I can say is that the crushes are getting progressively less realistic: first my neighbor, then famous writers, then a dead guy.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Naomi's Field Guide to Coffeehouse First Dates
Signs that you are witnessing a first-date-in-progress at your local coffeehouse:
1. It's late on a Saturday afternoon, and the two arrive separately. Scratch that. If it's a guy and a girl at a coffeehouse late on a Saturday afternoon, it's probably a first date.
2. When the two in question meet, they hug. Briefly.
3. The couple sits far from the other patrons.
4. The two appear similar in age, style, socioeconomic status and attractiveness.
5. The guy doesn't drink straight black coffee. He drinks a slightly girlier drink, like a cappuccino.
6. The snippets of conversation you catch include sound bytes like, "I lived for two years in Dallas..."
7. Animated conversation seems to be followed by brief, intense pauses that are broken with comments about the weather or the drinks they're each drinking.
**If you identify two or more of the above signs, you are most likely witnessing a first date.
1. It's late on a Saturday afternoon, and the two arrive separately. Scratch that. If it's a guy and a girl at a coffeehouse late on a Saturday afternoon, it's probably a first date.
2. When the two in question meet, they hug. Briefly.
3. The couple sits far from the other patrons.
4. The two appear similar in age, style, socioeconomic status and attractiveness.
5. The guy doesn't drink straight black coffee. He drinks a slightly girlier drink, like a cappuccino.
6. The snippets of conversation you catch include sound bytes like, "I lived for two years in Dallas..."
7. Animated conversation seems to be followed by brief, intense pauses that are broken with comments about the weather or the drinks they're each drinking.
**If you identify two or more of the above signs, you are most likely witnessing a first date.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Hunter gatherers, angst and the economic crisis
This economic crisis has explained a great mystery to me: why our hunter-gatherer forefathers had so little angst.
If you were worried about putting food on your table (literally), probably you didn't have time to worry about what the people in the next hut were saying about you or why your buddy from many moons ago de-friended you at your favorite prehistoric social-networking site.
(Actually, who am I kidding? I'm sure gossip was alive and strong among the hunter gatherers...assuming they were linguistically advanced enough to talk.)
You see, I've found that worrying about putting food on my table (or realistically, paying medical bills and funding my imminent post-graduate-and-unemployed lifestyle) is very freeing. I spend less time psychoanalyzing myself. And I think we can all agree that the less psychoanalyzing going on in the world, the better.
If you were worried about putting food on your table (literally), probably you didn't have time to worry about what the people in the next hut were saying about you or why your buddy from many moons ago de-friended you at your favorite prehistoric social-networking site.
(Actually, who am I kidding? I'm sure gossip was alive and strong among the hunter gatherers...assuming they were linguistically advanced enough to talk.)
You see, I've found that worrying about putting food on my table (or realistically, paying medical bills and funding my imminent post-graduate-and-unemployed lifestyle) is very freeing. I spend less time psychoanalyzing myself. And I think we can all agree that the less psychoanalyzing going on in the world, the better.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Marital Advice for a Complete Stranger
Today I told a guy I barely know that I don't think he should get married.
Cheeky, I know. But someone has to be the female voice, telling him that we women don't want his type.
(Due to my hesitancy at being chosen to utter this truth (think Moses), the words did not flow out smoothly; he initially thought I was pre-emptively rejecting any marriage proposals from him.)
This guy's in my journalism class, and we were having a class discussion about journalists' roles in reporting international affairs. When violence breaks out in a foreign nation, the journalists there often send their families away to safety. Sometimes the journalists themselves also leave. This male acquaintance of mine claimed that it would be selfish for a journalist to evacuate with his family and abandon his post--his calling--as a journalist.
All I'm sayin' is: Don't marry and procreate if you plan on abandoning your family and putting yourself in danger for the "higher calling" of journalism. How about the higher calling of being around 'til your son graduates from high school?
Cheeky, I know. But someone has to be the female voice, telling him that we women don't want his type.
(Due to my hesitancy at being chosen to utter this truth (think Moses), the words did not flow out smoothly; he initially thought I was pre-emptively rejecting any marriage proposals from him.)
This guy's in my journalism class, and we were having a class discussion about journalists' roles in reporting international affairs. When violence breaks out in a foreign nation, the journalists there often send their families away to safety. Sometimes the journalists themselves also leave. This male acquaintance of mine claimed that it would be selfish for a journalist to evacuate with his family and abandon his post--his calling--as a journalist.
All I'm sayin' is: Don't marry and procreate if you plan on abandoning your family and putting yourself in danger for the "higher calling" of journalism. How about the higher calling of being around 'til your son graduates from high school?
Friday, March 13, 2009
House-hunting Tip for Guys
Recently, I went house-hunting with one of my guy friends. My job was to give the female perspective--what does a woman think about when looking at houses? I gave him the obvious female input: We women want lots of counter space in the kitchen, and it matters whether or not there's a linen closet in the bedroom hallway.
One more thing: You want to make sure that the layout of the bathroom was well thought-out. In my current house, the cabinet is above the toilet; the toilet has become an abyss for many cosmetic/personal care items. I once fished a small perfume vial out of the toilet with a pair of chopsticks. Then there was the time I knocked my roommate's Vaseline jar into the toilet. Though I considered salvaging it, the thought of toilet water seeping its way past the lid and into the oily gooze was just too much.
A couple days ago, I woke up and went into the bathroom to find this note from my roommate taped to the mirror, "Naomi, I'm afraid your toothbrush fell into the toilet this morning :{ Sorry!"
My mind when into problem-solving mode: Do I have another toothbrush lying around? No. Could I chew gum all day and avoid breathing in people's faces? Dangerous and disgusting. Could I go pick one up at the store? Got up too late, not enough time. Could I use my roommate's toothbrush? Yes...
So, I boiled my roommate's toothbrush and called her later that day to tell her to increase the toothbrush order to two. Her note had promised me a new toothbrush by the evening. But now I wasn't the only one who needed a new toothbrush.
So, all you guys who want to take advantage of the buyer's housing market: Bring a girl with you. You'll never guess what they find important.
One more thing: You want to make sure that the layout of the bathroom was well thought-out. In my current house, the cabinet is above the toilet; the toilet has become an abyss for many cosmetic/personal care items. I once fished a small perfume vial out of the toilet with a pair of chopsticks. Then there was the time I knocked my roommate's Vaseline jar into the toilet. Though I considered salvaging it, the thought of toilet water seeping its way past the lid and into the oily gooze was just too much.
A couple days ago, I woke up and went into the bathroom to find this note from my roommate taped to the mirror, "Naomi, I'm afraid your toothbrush fell into the toilet this morning :{ Sorry!"
My mind when into problem-solving mode: Do I have another toothbrush lying around? No. Could I chew gum all day and avoid breathing in people's faces? Dangerous and disgusting. Could I go pick one up at the store? Got up too late, not enough time. Could I use my roommate's toothbrush? Yes...
So, I boiled my roommate's toothbrush and called her later that day to tell her to increase the toothbrush order to two. Her note had promised me a new toothbrush by the evening. But now I wasn't the only one who needed a new toothbrush.
So, all you guys who want to take advantage of the buyer's housing market: Bring a girl with you. You'll never guess what they find important.
Friday, March 6, 2009
As the World Turns: A Summary of Recent World Events
Dear President Obama,
Socialism? Really?! Are you out of your freakin' mind? Look at what that did to my country. Nothing good can come from it.
Look at the Chinese. They're sending their people over to your country in boatloads to buy your foreclosed houses. Why can't you be more capitalistic like them?
Sincerely,
Vladimir Putin
Socialism? Really?! Are you out of your freakin' mind? Look at what that did to my country. Nothing good can come from it.
Look at the Chinese. They're sending their people over to your country in boatloads to buy your foreclosed houses. Why can't you be more capitalistic like them?
Sincerely,
Vladimir Putin
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