30 4 / 2014
"It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to live in a world where the media – tabloid and broadsheet – didn’t talk about and to unmarried grown women as if they were hysterical teenagers desperate to be saved by their prince, insane with a need to be married NOW. It would be equally nice if the media didn’t portray unmarried men as naughty schoolboys, terrified of those crazed women lurking around every corner waiting to kidnap them and take them to the altar."
Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
08 5 / 2012
(Yes, there are probably spoilers in here.)
I was pretty excited about seeing The Avengers. I didn’t go to a midnight screening, but I did go RIGHT after work on the Friday of opening weekend with my friend Lane. I’d sort of purposely kept away from all the press about it because I just want to watch the goddamn movie and leave me alone, so I was pleasantly surprised to see Cobie Smulders, from the new “Friends” / sitcom I zone out to at night, “How I Met Your Mother.”
Hey! Great! I like her! I’m always down for women kicking ass in any movies, really! I even like the S.H.I.E.L.D. outfit! Sure, it’s a… onesie, with belt loops, which… seems a little bit ‘90’s for this reboot, but it’s kind of sporty and— WAIT.
20 12 / 2011
Sometimes I read the Vows section of the New York Times to remind myself that I actually do have half a chance of finding someone who can complete my douchebaggery, possibly without ever even having to look abroad. Also, it freaks me out that people my age (perpetually 29) think they’re mature enough to be committing to anything for life. My last boyfriend had almost as many ex-girlfriends as Star Wars action figures (or vice versa, I’m not really sure). I have the same fear of ending up alone as any woman featured in a classic (read: terrible) romantic comedy, but these really do make me feel better in that I CANNOT BRING CHILDREN INTO A WORLD WHERE THIS IS TAKEN SERIOUSLY IN THE NEWSPAPER OF RECORD.
Obviously, the goods on display at this sidewalk haterade stand indicate that I’m all kinds of jealous because I want to be in the Vows section myself. Yeah, I do. I am planning ALL KINDS of ridiculous one-upping shit at my wedding, including an animal procession to include a tiger, elephant and camel (whatever, St. John the Divine does it every year. F*ck a flower girl!) and maybe an air show. I’ll hold a contest for ideas when the time is right.
This weekend’s couples were actually kind of boring. (There’s really only one king of the Vows stories that makes me see red in the style of Bluto and shows everything wrong with America, and I’m saving it for another post.) But despite the lack of anything super-juicy into which I can sink my fangs of derision, let’s start it off, shall we?
14 9 / 2011
You know what they say: “When in Rome…. eat all the pasta!” No, no, I’m pretty sure that’s it. Don’t correct me.
Since I was in Amsterdam, I decided I was gonna do that. Not with pasta, with the other thing. I will tell you, the sight of a woman showing up alone to a coffeeshop was met with a range of reactions. Mostly impressed (I got an undisclosed number of head nods), quizzical (“You sure?” Yes, I’m sure. My euros are good. Hand it over) and just plain bored, which obviously I respect the most. And, um, that’s it, because I definitely only went to three coffeeshops.
I was in town for a week, minus Queen’s Day recovery time, and I spent a lot of time at museums (because I was alone and just out of a coffeeshop, and they’re relatively safe places). (I also did not consume marijuana outside the safety of coffeeshops because, naturally, my Locked Up: Abroad phobia kicked into high gear while here.)
If you ever go to Amsterdam, whether or not you plan to go to coffeeshops, get the IAmsterdam card. It is fantastic. You can get it for 1, 2 or 3 days, it gets you an unlimited tram card (which is worth it right there), a slew of discounts at places you were going to go anyway, and free entry into most of the city’s museums. AND you can cut the line at the Van Gogh! It’s the American way.
So, coffeeshops and museums. Coffeeshops… and museums… Museums and coffeeshops! (Really though, I will say it beats the “just museums” I was dealing with in Ireland.)*
15 7 / 2011
For the most part, all of the Alpini we saw were very unobtrusive and mostly focused on drinking with their Alpini buddies, which I absolutely hold in high regard. HOWEVER.
My last night in Turin, my friend Gianna, her boyfriend Enzo and I went to dinner, drank a shit-tonne (metric) of wine and food and still had room for dessert. Meanwhile, there was a table next to us with ten people (four were terribly behaved Italian children, which is apparently the accepted norm. Did you know Italian kids just up and pee in the street if they feel like it? Their parents tell them to do it. It’s totally fine with everyone. NO IT ISN’T), and one of the adults had a birthday.
To celebrate, they had a huge rectangular tart, and they ate about a quarter of it and then left, leaving THREE QUARTERS of a CAKE on the table rather than be gauche and take it home. I can abide witnessing many heartless things, but abandoned cake will set off the Tiger Mother. So, I start to have a panic attack, but in the next moment the table of eight Alpini on the other side of us step in to rescue the cake. And naturally, because they are gentlemen soldiers, they want to know if we want some of the cake.
08 7 / 2011
When I landed in Turin, Italy I saw two amusing things.
1. A nun.
2. A gentleman at bag claim wearing a Swiss Alps-looking hat with a giant feather sticking out of it.
I looked at this guy’s hat like, “Ha! I wonder what that is! I’ve never seen anything like it before! I bet I won’t see another one for quite a while, too!” And I took a picture for my files.
I’m amused by headwear, I guess.
Then I went out to meet my friends Gianna and Enzo, who informed me that no, actually, the guy I saw was one of 85,000 (THOUSAND!) past and present members of the Alpini (the elite mountain unit of the Italian army - rowr!) descending for the weekend upon Turin for their annual reunion. I really needn’t have wasted energy snapping a photo of that one hat. They were EVERYWHERE.