Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Oh my God, where are my spoons?

In the midst of the already chaotic 2005 holiday season the last thing I needed was something else to fret over. But, because life is not fair (i.e. bad things always happen to me), I face yet another neurotic hurdle.

Two of my tablespoons are missing.

Some background: I own (or did own) a fine Martha Stewart silverware set for eight.

However, this morning as I was unloading the dishwasher and neatly lining up the silverware in the cutlery drawer I noticed that the stack of tablespoons appeared shorter than would be expected. I counted the spoons. There were six. I looked in the sink to see if there were any dirty spoons. There were not. I did a recount. Still, I counted six tablespoons. I put my head deep in the dishwasher wondering if maybe the spoons were stuck in some spoon-sized crevice. No luck.

Already having a mini meltdown about preparing my apartment for my mother’s upcoming visit, I decided that I could not handle this crisis on my own. Luckily, two of my ever devoted stuffed animals were ready to help. Sabrina Goodlamb and Teddy Mittens are so much more than cuddly creatures, they are trusted advisors.

Teddy Mittens hypothesized that I may have “accidentally” thrown the spoons away. Sabrina scoffed at that theory and explained that the ONLY explanation was that one of my good for nothing human “friends” is screwing with me. I begged her to continue. She expounded on her clever deduction by reminding me that some people find my “neat-freak” ways to be funny and/or annoying and people are so jealous of my clean and well-organized household they feel they must sabotage that which they themselves cannot attain. Teddy Mittens shook his head and told Sabrina to stop feeding my paranoia.

But it was too late, I knew she was right. People are jealous of me. Somebody took two of my tablespoons in an effort to ruin me and my carefully planned holiday festivities.

Well, try again suckers! Have you ever heard of EBay? Yeah, that’s right. I will have two replacement spoons before you can say “obsessive compulsive woman in a black turtleneck in need of a stronger dose of her SSRI.”

But why should we continue this dance? You made your point. Please, just tell me……where the fuck are my spoons?

Monday, December 20, 2004

Holiday Shopping

"The holidays, it is generally accepted, are a time of giving, ofsharing, a period when a spirit of generosity sweeps the land. Behindthe snow-globe fantasy, however, lies another, slightly skewedportrait of the seasonal altruism. For a lot of consumers the lineappears to be blurring between giving and receiving. And the personone seems likeliest to shop for come December is, increasingly,oneself."
The New York Times, December 14, 2004

Andrea's shopping list: Mom, Dad, Stepdad, Sister, Grandma, Boyfriend, Roommates

Thursday night, after work, account balance high with newly deposited paycheck, comfortable walking shoes on, iPod fully charged.

First stop: Jasmine Sola, trendy Newbury Street boutique. Looking for: Gift for sister. Actually bought: skirt on sale for self. White lie told to 20 year old salesclerk who asked if I'd had a chance to try it on: "No, but it's a gift, so I don't need to try iton."

Second stop: Gap. Looking for: Gift for boyfriend and Dad. Actually bought: 2 scarves--one each for boyfriend and dad. DID NOT BUY: silky pajamas forself...the guilt from Jasmine Sola was still too great.

Third stop: Lush, fancy soap store. Looking for: gifts for three roommates and mom. Actually bought: 4 soaps total...and a total of $45-- on soap!! Mental Status check: A little hungry and a lot proud for going into TWO stores and not buying self anything.

Fourth stop: Restoration Hardware. Looking for: stocking stuffers for everyone. Actually bought: stocking stuffers for everyone.

Fifth stop: Anthropologie, aka, the rich woman's link to a nostalgiac past. Looking for: Mom, Grandma, sister. Actually bought: jacket for mom,perfume for Grandma...and a sexy shirt for self-- I needed it, really,for New Year's. In fact, it could potentially go into the "boyfriend"category since he'll benefit by looking at me looking hot in the lowcut shirt...Mental Status check: A little delirious, fairly hungry,hands and feet hurt.

Last stop: Marshall's, aka, the lowbrow alternative to Anthropologie,when you realize your paycheck should be used for things other than"gifts"-- things like rent and bills. Sigh. Looking for: Anything to make up the balance of everything I haven't got people on the list. Actually bought: $5 Picture frame forboyfriend (after $30 leather frame from Restoration Hardware was rejected). Trouser socks for self (a small, but needed, purchase).Mental status check: starving, tired, broke.

Found: 2 crumpled dollars in wallet, enough to get me home.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Things To Keep In Mind When Meeting My Mother For The First Time

1. My mother thinks that every sitcom/film about a smart, sassy, and silly single woman trying to “juggle it all” is based on my life experiences in Boston. You know, lots of dating hijinks and comical workplace shenanigans. DO NOT tell my mother that I am NOT Sarah Jessica Parker.

2. If you are meeting my mother, then you are a friend of mine. If you are a friend of mine, then my mother loves you. Though I am good enough to be the basis for tv/movie plots, I am not so much deserving of friends. DO NOT freak out when she corners you and “thanks” you for being my “special” friend.

3. My mother is better looking than me. Think of the Judds; Naomi is slim and not-too-tacky, whereas Winona is lumpy and tres gauche. My mother lives on brown rice and vegetables. She once cried when I told her I ate 16 cookies in one sitting. DO NOT ask about my cholesterol level in front of my mother.

4. My mother has never been drunk and has never said the “F” word. True, she did get loopy off a single glass of wine during our last visit to Sol Azteca, and true, I did find her staring blankly at the duct tape selection at Economy Hardware after dinner. DO NOT offer my mother $100 to say the “F” word. (She will not, I have tried before.)

5. Celebrities ranging from Sharon Stone to Catherine Zeta Jones to Warren Beatty have “copied” and/or “stolen” my mother’s hairstyle. Also, she does not have grey hair, but rather ever-desirable silver highlights. DO NOT tell my mother that she looks like Milhouse’s mom from “The Simpson’s” – because that is not funny.


Friday, December 10, 2004

The Case of the Loud Asshole in Zara's Basement

an update from your very own shut-in detective....

The Case of the Loud Asshole in Zara's Basement

Status: Solved

On Wednesday of this week, Zara Katherine spent an enjoyable evening with Clark K. who, for the record, affectionately refers to her as his "client". Upon his post midnight departure, Zara prepared herself for sleep, crawled into her cozy bed, and reassured her monkey "Snuggly" that there was room in her heart for both him and that "human" man who just left. Before she was able to drift into dreamland, Zara was startled by an unfamiliar noise emanating from the basement. From the comfort of her bed she could not clearly decipher the foreign sounds though it was clear something unusual was afoot. Loathe to get out of her warm bed she waited anxiously for a few minutes hoping that the noise would go away. It did not. Zara got out of bed and walked to her backdoor and put her ear to it in an effort to better ascertain the situation. The noise appeared to be that of a man, who may or may not have been speaking Chinese (Mandarin?). She listened attentively for a second voice, but there was none. This led Zara to formulate the hypothesis that the culprit was either a drunken homeless person speaking in tongues to himself OR an inconsiderate neighbor having a loud, subterranean cell phone conversation with a friend in Beijing. Feeling equally sleepy and agitated, Zara opened her backdoor and slammed it shut hoping the sound would drive the man away. It did not. Fearful of confronting the individual and not wanting to call the landlord and/or police, Zara attempted to "think outside the box" to surmise a solution. She settled on setting up a "booby trap" in front her back door which consisted of various boxes and whatnot leaned against her backdoor so that if the man in the basement attempted to break into her apartment she would hear his entry and have time to save herself. She had a brief internal dialogue about whether or not she was a "fight or flight" person, but then decided it was way too late for hypotheticals and went back to bed. With her covers over her ears, Zara finally fell asleep and was pleased to wake up without injury the next day.

On Thursday, Zara relayed her tale to friends and co-workers who unanimously told her she should alert her property management company. She did so, and on that evening at approximately 9:30pm her phone rang. This surprised her because she was watching one of her favorite television programs, CSI, and most people knew not to call her during her dates with the boob tube. (Yet she knew, in all fairness, it was a lot to ask for her friends to keep up with ever-morphing viewing preferences.) The caller id revealed that it was her upstairs neighbor/property manager, Betty. Betty was calling to "follow-up" on Zara's phone call to the office. She informed Zara that though she was not certain, it was the consensus of the rental office staff that the man she had heard was most likely a tenant who was in the midst of a messy divorce and that the man was most likely yelling at his soon-to-be ex-wife on his cell phone while he was doing laundry in the basement. Betty strongly emphasized that 1:00am was no time to do laundry. Zara knew this as she and her fellow tenants had received numerous memos on various shades of colored paper reminding the tenants that there is "No Laundry" after 10pm. Though it was clear that this man's misuse of the laundry facilities was the greater infraction in terms of the management's agenda, Betty did acknowledge that he should not have been so loud. Furthermore, she informed Zara that in the future she should report any "disruptions" to the on-call maintenance people. She also told Zara “not” to call the police.

With that, the case was closed, and Zara fell asleep on the couch. Which poses the next mystery: Why can't Zara go to bed like a normal person?



Monday, December 06, 2004

Love Police

Love Police here. We represent the municipality of Romance City. According to our records, you haverecently moved into a cozy 2 person heterosexualrelationship with one (name withheld). First, let us WELCOME you to our city. You will find that the air is sweeter and the grass is indeed greener than that found in Spinsterville, your former place of residence. Second, let us offer you some helpful tips for navigating our vast metropolis:

1. Take a dip in the "Pool of Oblivion". The waterfeels great as does being marinated in bath of ignorance. Your lover can do no wrong - your mind simply won't let you believe anything less thanwonderful about your mate.

2. Avoid "Self-Sabotage Street". A bunch of no good elves populate this area and whisper notions of selfdoubt and irrational concerns regarding yourrelationship. They are quite persuasive and canconvince even the most dedicated heart that her partner is cheating or that her butt is too big and that she should chronically share these fears with her partner until he dumps her.

3. Steer clear of "Temptation Island". You may have thought it was just a realty show on the FOX network,but it is real. While we are on the subject, beware of"Adultery Alley". Only married couples are granted access to this zone, but the sooner you respect its power the better.

4. Perhaps consider renting a vacation property in"Hedonistic Heights". The perfect place to get-away for a weekend of kinky sex. Few have the stamina to live here year-round, but time shares are a popular option.

In closing, we wish you and your partner a long and satisfying relationship. Please feel free to check outour chamber of commerce's web site for other hot spots that you may find "stimulating"!