Month: January 2012

And Suddenly a Beach Pass is a Big Deal

The Wedding Date wants to know if I’m a beach person—not because he’s planning some sort of mid-winter, Caribbean getaway (at least not as far as I know), but because he’s trying to decide whether or not to buy a beach pass for the summer. A beach pass. For the summer. It’s only January—the “summer” is still six months away! How am I supposed to make a decision about a beach pass now? Especially because in my book, summers are meant for adventures.  Adventures abroad.  I’ve been emptying out my savings account for this express purpose almost every year since the summer I turned seventeen.  In fact, to me, the hardest part of producing last September’s show for the Fringe was not the stress or the financial investment or the last minute choreography that left my partner and me trying to finalize our duet just minutes before going onstage. It was the fact that I had to stay put through July and August and after teaching all year, spending the entire summer in one place …

It’s Time to be Ruthless

I once had a professor in college who told me, “You’re extremely gifted.  You’re going to have lots of opportunities come your way.  But you must stay focused.  You must turn them down.  Ruthlessly.” He was one of my favorite professors (admittedly, this had as much to with the course material as it did the fact that I had a huge crush on him) and I never forgot his advice, mainly because I couldn’t believe he actually used the word “ruthlessly.”  Not when I was pursuing a double major in dance and history; I figured I’d be lucky to get a job.  Any job.  The only thing worse than majoring in dance or history would be majoring in English and trying to make a living as a writer.  (Joke’s on me, I guess.) At any rate, after last’s week Single Bridezilla segment and the unfortunate aftermath (in which I found myself being asked— on numerous occasions— if I couldn’t try being just a little bit crazier, or perhaps a little bit more single, because then …

First off, I apologize for the tardiness of today’s post. It’s raining today in the City of Brotherly Love and whenever it rains our internet connection goes all wonky. Secondly, I’d like to give a great big THANK YOU to everyone who has come rallying to my defense in the wake of the Single Bridezilla segment and its aftermath. Your comments and encouragement (and willingness to go beat people up on my behalf) have been greatly appreciated. Finally, I would like to let everyone know that I have finally stopped reading the Daily Mail. And just in case you were wondering, I will not be getting a nose job any time soon (or ever, for that matter); even if I did have excess funds lying around to put towards plastic surgery, I wouldn’t. (Spending tens of thousands of dollars on cosmetic surgery is, in my humble opinion, just as ridiculous as spending tens of thousands of dollars on a wedding.) In conclusion, it has been a very, very long week and I’m still fielding calls …

The Single Bridezilla “Debate” Rages On

Whoddathunkit?  The Single Bridezilla “debate” rages on over at the Daily Mail (142 comments and counting!) and even though I know I shouldn’t even bother reading anymore, I can’t help myself.  The things people will say when they have nothing better to do with their time (and the internet to assure their anonymity) shall never cease to amaze me—especially because this whole Single Bridezilla thing isn’t nearly the big deal that everyone is making it out to be. I’ve got to hand it to the Brits—being the descendents of Shakespeare and all, their insults far outweigh those of their American cousins.  I particularly enjoyed “Good God, where did this chin sniffer get that nose !!! Looks like she’s done a 100 yard dash in a 90 yard gym.”  I had to read that one several times before I got it, so I thank you for that dose of amusement Grant from Wilts. I also liked “who NOSE when they will marry!! God NOSE!!”  Very clever (and given the provenance of this particular comment, I’m to …

Do I Look Fat in this Dress?

My biggest concerns in watching yesterday’s Good Morning America segment on Single Bridezillas were as follows: 1)      Would the producers make me look like a complete lunatic? 2)      Would I look fat in my grandmother’s wedding dress (or worse: fat in the $12 reception dress I scored at Jomar’s)? 3)      Would the sight of me in not one but two wedding dresses send The Wedding Date running for the hills? 24 hours later, I’m happy to report that I did not look like a complete lunatic (half lunatic, maybe, but not complete), that I looked “very pretty” according to one of my five year olds (and “skinny” according to the mother of one of my high school students) and that The Wedding Date did not go running for the hills, even when several of his friends texted him to say, “I just saw you on Good Morning America!  Is that the girl?” (They showed three pictures of us together.  Three!) Being rather new to the media circus, however (whoops—did I say “circus?”  I meant “circuit”), …

I’m Pretty Sure He Was Talking to My Bra

On Friday night, The Wedding Date told me he loved me.  But I don’t think he was talking to me.  I think he was talking to my bra. His exact words were, “God, I love you!” But he was staring at my chest, probably because we were in his bedroom and I had just removed my sweater to reveal my one and only Victoria’s Secret bra—but still. How does one accidentally drop the “L” word?  (Especially when you pause to consider the fact that my cleavage is hardly my greatest asset.) I didn’t respond.  I mean, what’s a girl supposed to say to that?  I don’t think he even realized that he’d said the “L” word and I myself wasn’t sure until I ran over the entire scene over again in my head, but he did. He totally did. I’ve written quite a bit about the “L” word in the past.  In fact, those of you who have been following the progress of my Great Date Experiment may recall a post I wrote a few …

The End, the Beginning and a Question from The Wedding Date

On Friday night, I feel asleep watching Star Wars.  Again.  This is a problem because The Wedding Date (my current beau for those of you just tuning in) is obsessed with Star Wars and made me watch one scene three times in order to fully appreciate the fact that one of the storm troopers hit his head while crossing a threshold in the Death Star. Maybe, just maybe, if we hadn’t had to watch that scene three times, I would have made it all the way to the end but this is what happens when you go from serial dating (18 months, 30 men and 75 dates at last count!) to focusing your “manthropological” research on one particular individual.  First you decide to go running the day after New Years, then you agree to watch Star Wars.  Pretty soon you’ll be playing Runewars and going to gaming conventions (and gaming conventions, as far as I’m concerned, are the beginning of the end). Speaking of the end, I’ve got some loose ends to tie up from …

Sweet Nothings, En Español

First things first: my Good Morning America debut will occur on Monday, not today as I’d initially thought.  So set your DVRs for Monday morning (or plan to be out—I’m still fairly certain the segment is going to make me look like a complete lunatic!). Now, getting down to business: I once had a neighbor who told me that the best way to learn Spanish was to take a Latin lover.  He was a rather eccentric neighbor (I read somewhere that he was Nazi-hunter back in the day) and his appearances at the Hooper Island Martini Bar Soiree were always somewhat bizarre (I used to refer to him as Uncle Drosselmeyer) but I’ve never forgotten his advice. Take a Latin lover. Despite being half Puerto Rican on my mother’s side, I’ve never taken a Latin lover before.  Unless of course you count the Jehovah’s Witness I met on a cruise ship when I was thirteen.  He too was Puerto Rican but on account of being a Jehovah’s Witness, he had to ask his father for …