In Which I Totally Geek Out

I am very, very lucky to teach extremely affluent students (80 of them, in fact) who give me very generous gifts at the holidays and the end of the year. Most of them give gift cards which range from $10 to $50 in amount. Multiply that by 80 students, and you can imagine how lucky I am.

This year, I schemed and hoped I would get enough Target gift cards to get myself a new iPod. And I did! A fabulously orange, 16GB nano. I was drooling over the classic, but I decided I didn't really need that and could go for the awesome orange nano instead. It even has radio! The best part is that my car has a built-in connector for it, so now all of my music can go with me wherever I go (thank you, Japanese car makers for your innovation and glory).

I had wanted the classic because, well, it reminded me of my very first, first-generation iPod. It was white and sleek (though comparatively chunky) and I can say it was probably my most prized possession. When you are squished between thousands of people on the subway, with their elbows in your neck and their big stomachs pushed up against your back, a playlist is all you have.

I had one playlist that had Prince's "Little Red Corvette" on it, and I always listened that that during my morning subway ride. I just felt that song. If that playlist finished before I got to school, I switched over to Fleetwood Mac for a time. Rumors is still one of my favorite albums. I really, really felt those songs -- like they had to be written for me. Especially "Go Your Own Way." Dumb boys.

I had to retire that iPod because the computer it synched with did not belong to me, and when I moved out of my ex-boyfriend's place, the iPod stayed forever frozen in time. I had a plug adapter so I could charge it up, but I couldn't add songs to it -- remember those first generations? Not as flexible as they are now.

Pete bought me a first-generation shuffle for our first Christmas together, and that thing has been with me through many a run. And while it still works very well and I will still use it, I wanted something to connect in my car, and let's be honest, I wanted to geek it out with some new technology.

Thus, my fabulous, orange nano! Merry Christmas to me!

LIke The White House Party Crashers, But With Jello Shots

Saturday night was our annual holiday party. As with most of our parties, there were many drinks, funny gifts, fabulous food (we like to eat), and fireworks.

As I have mentioned before, my family has a thing for fireworks. While they were illegal in NY (in fact, the cops came once and threatened my dad with a felony charge), they are perfectly legal here in lawless F-L-A. So, we tend to light them off on random nights when we are here late night.

Around 1 a.m., my brother, Brian and my friend Annie's boyfriend, Woody, decided it was time. A lot of our guests had headed home at that point, and the 10 of us left were hanging out in the garage, because it was a torrential downpour. We are also clearly very classy that we end our holiday party sitting on coolers in our garage lit by neon beer signs.

But anyway.

Brian and Woody light the mortars into the night, which caused one of our neighbors to poke his head out of the door and start shouting. We couldn't really tell what he was saying, but we heard a lot of "WOOOO!" and knowing that they have some "special" parties of their own, we knew they weren't yelling at us to stop.

On the contrary, in about five minutes, the neighbor, his twin brother, and his "son" showed up, carrying about fifty jello shots. In a bowl with a ice. Fifty jello shots -- individually wrapped with lids. They started distributing them, and took seats on the coolers.

At first, this was cool, and I didn't give it too much thought. In fact, I had placed in the back of my mind what my other neighbor, who was also at the party, had told me. About the weird, naked pool parties these guys threw in their backyard. And the fact that the neighbors had told us to come to a few parties, even though we rarely ever spoke with them.

That is, until J, the neighbor, cozied up next to me and started telling me all about how he dates another neighbor, and they have "nudie" parities all of the time! It's awesome! Why don't we come!? Everyone gets wasted and hangs out naked in the pool! It's really, really hot and why don't we ever come?

Then, J's brother started discussing how I mow the lawn and get sweaty, while J suggestively licked jello shots out of the plastic container while making serious eye contact with everyone in the party, male and female. The guys at the party, who had been drinking for a good, solid six hours at that point, started to get fired up at the strangeness of it all. When J made a comment about one of my friends that was very inappropriate, I pointed it out, and they started to gather the remaining jello shots and head back across the street.

As they walked away, we all commented on how weird it was, and then started to get slightly worried that the jello shots had roofies.

Because apparently, that's how we roll in my hood.

And Now, A Moment Of Cheese

Though my last post was all, "boo-hoo, I miss the North," I am fully in the holiday spirit. Though I in no way think the economic meltdown is awesome and wish we could go through things like this all the time, I recognize that a. economies are cyclical and need to be reset, b. nothing can continue to go up forever, and c. I think it has helped many more people realize what truly is important. Of course, there are people that we all know who still would rather wear designer and spend $300 a month on styling their hair even though they need to charge all of that shit on their credit card, I think a lot more people realize that family and friends and having food to eat and a house to live in are a lot more important and special.

I am always a pretty positive person (except when I go through bouts of depression...so, there's that), and really try to think of all of the things I am grateful for everyday. This started sometime in high school, while for some reason I watched an episode of Oprah and she was talking about a gratitude journal and writing three things everyday about what she is thankful for. Maybe her journal would look like this:

1. Billions and billions of dollars!
2. Mind-control of all middle-aged women
3. Delicious raspberry-colored lipstick

While the things I am thankful for are not quite so extravagant as the Oprah might be, Pete and I have so many things in our lives and lately I really have been thinking about them.

1. Each other
2. Great families
3. Awesome friends
4. A house we love
5. Being able to pay all of our bills
6. Reliable cars to drive
7. JOBS
8. Being able to buy the foods we want and need, and even go out to dinner, too.
9. Health

I could keep going, but the point is that I am so lucky and I realize that everyday, so when I get to whining in my head about the little things that annoy me, or the people that I want to punch (just kidding), or whatever it may be, I need to take a step back and remember just how lucky I am.

Ho Ho Ho

When I was growing up, the holidays were steeped in tradition. On Thanksgiving we would wake up and watch the Macy's Day Parade (yes, I know it's not called that) and then have lunch with my grandparents and our extended family. Then in the weeks leading up to Christmas, there were parties and dance recitals (I danced from kindergarten through college) and band concerts and performances of all types.

Christmas Eve was always my favorite: my family would go to church and my mom led the bell choir (which she paid me to play in, no joke). After church, we came home and all of the relatives and friends came for Italian Christmas Eve. Everyone drank a lot and the night was capped off by an awesome fireworks show in our backyard. Why fireworks? I have no idea but they are awesome to watch exploding in the sky and lighting up the snow.

I did this every single Christmas Eve until I moved down to Florida, and we actually still have gone North for all of them but two. But they changed -- most of my relatives moved South, my parents bought a winter house down here and even my brother lives down in Jax now, too.

My brother was out at sea last Christmas Eve (he's a merchant marine), so I hosted a really small dinner at our house with my parents and a friend. We went to a church service, but it was a lot different. Back in New York, we knew everyone at church, so it was more like social hour than a service, although I still cried during O Holy Night and O Little Town of Bethlehem. I always get choked up during the cheesiest moments. It was a good holiday last year, but it just didn't feel so Christmas-y, especially without the fireworks and snow.

Pete and I started throwing a holiday party three years ago, and that has become a holiday tradition for us that I love, and I think we'll have that party for years and years.

It just has been weird and kind-of hard to create new traditions. I wouldn't change my life for anything and I can't imagine trading the beach to move back to the city, and really, the holidays always have a little twinge of something....expectations that can't be met...but at this time of year, I have to say I miss my city more than any other time.

Luck Of The Irish

Pete and I were out at an Irish pub the other night for dinner. While Pete definitely takes notice of the hotness of other ladies, he rarely comments. I, on the other hand, will point out the hotness of celebrities and will make ridiculous comments comparing their hotness to things like the sun or a thousand diamonds.

After noticing the gorgeous wait staff at the pub....

Pete: Wow! The servers are hot!
Me: Really?
Pete: It's as if they were born from shamrocks.
Me: (I turn and look, and indeed, they are beautiful) You never say stuff like that! If they were born from shamrocks, what am I?
Pete: Well, you weren't born, you were created....like if a cloud and a rose got together, they would create you.
Me: ?
Pete: You know, like a rose is beautiful and clouds are constantly changing.....I don't know. Isn't that good enough for you?

The Mask and The Cast

Though it's hard to believe now, I was goth in high school, although my friends and I called ourselves "Freaks." I took my make-up tips from Robert Smith, shaved half of my head, and only wore black. The black could be leather, lace, velvet, or jeans, but if it wasn't black, I didn't have it. On a side note, I still mostly wear black now, but I don't wear it on the outside because that is how I feel on the inside (except sometimes).

Freshman year, Jen and I dated seniors who we thought were VERY COOL. They drove, they were alterna, too, and well, they were seniors.

One night in the Fall, they went to a Ministry concert together. They were going to have to be extra careful in the mosh pit, they said, because B, Jen's boyfriend, had broken his wrist and it was in an air cast. Since we were Freshman, we were not allowed to accompany them, but really, that was OK because Jen was coming over to my house to have a sleepover. We would eat a lot, talk a lot, and of course, wear face masks.

We were totally obsessed with this Queen Helene mint face mask. It was green, and we would put it on whenever we were home. It was obviously more fun to put it on with someone else, because it would dry and freeze your face in a very serious position. We would try to make each other laugh and watch the cracks run up the sides of the mask. At 3 a.m., this is hilarious.

We were in the middle of our laughing, face-mask wearing session sometime in the middle of the night. The house I grew up in was a raised ranch, and our downstairs was the perfect hang out place. A pool table, a bar (not that I used that part of the downstairs in high school), television, and lots of room to sleep and spread out. The one drawback was that part of the windows were at ground level, and the sliding glass doors opened out onto acres and acres of scary, dark woods. One of my college friends said that my house reminded her of the house from the movie Scream. In the middle of the night, all sorts of things could be happening outside.

As we chatted and laughed, we started to hear a ting ting on the window. It kept getting louder and more frequent. We stared at each other, wide-eyed. We tried to ignore it, and since the lights were on, we couldn't see anything outside. I certainly wasn't going over to the window to inspect it, but the noise kept on.

Jen: What was that???
Me: I don't know!
Jen: haha?
Me: Oh my god, let's get under the covers!!!!

We dove under the covers, because blankets will protect you from anything. Jen started laughing hysterically while we huddled under the blanket.

Me: Do you think we should look?
Jen: hahahahahahahha

Suddenly, we heard a loud BANG! against the glass. Not being able to stay put, we pulled back the covers and saw a face pressed up against the glass.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

We screamed and jumped out of bed, running up the stairs in hysterics. My parents came running, and our dog, Freckles, started barking furiously.

Dad: What??
Us: SOMEONE IS OUTSIDE!!!!! WE JUST SAW A FACE!!!!

My dad let the Freckles out the front door, and he took off barking and running furiously. I cried and Jen laughed, both of us in our own personal form of hysterics, while we told my parents what happened. My dad checked outside and looked around, and didn't see anything. He called for the dog to come back.

Freckles trotted up down the driveway (our driveway was really, really long -- we couldn't see the end of it from our house) with something in his mouth.

Dad: What the?

We all looked as Freckles dropped the air cast he was carrying and trotted inside. Air cast? Jen and I looked at each other incredulously. B had the same exact one.

About a half hour later, the phone rang. This was back in the days long before cell phones, when we only had one family phone. My dad answered and called downstairs, telling me to get to the phone.

Me: Hello:
Dumb Boyfriend: Why didn't you let us in?
Me: What?
DB: Me and B. We came over after Ministry.
Me: What? We thought you were a killer! I have to go.

My parents were not impressed.

Neither was I, as this began the long list of idiot boys I got into relationships with.

G.R.I.T.S.

Proof that I am losing my Northern roots:

I sincerely and honestly used "all y'all" in a sentence.