All posts tagged: humor

soft

Candy Necklaces for Grown Ups, or How to Survive the Atlantic City Beer Fest

On Saturday night, I went to a beer festival with PIC. I hate beer but I love him, and one of his favorite bands was playing and it was his birthday so I donned my concert-going uniform (more on that some other time) and joined approximately 9,000 beer lovers at the Atlantic City Convention Center. Having never before been to a beer fest, I didn’t know the protocol. Like you’re supposed to wear matching t-shirts, or Viking helmets, or Scottish kilts or scrubs with signs that say things like, “Hi, My name is Dr. Hangover.” More importantly—and this is crucial—you’re supposed to bring a necklace made of pretzels. Who knew? Ill-equipped as I was, I spent the majority of the evening drinking pear ciders and asking folks if I could take pictures of their edible jewelry. These ladies, for example, had both pretzel necklaces and light-up suspenders. This guy explained to me that soft pretzels are “way better” because they’re bigger and “soak up the alcohol.” Plus you can get 20 for a dollar (or …

green furn

The Great Easter Decor Dilemma

My block is really into decorating. Like really. I’ll all for a nice color-coordinated interior design scheme (last week, for example, I managed to find a chair cover that was an exact match to the couch cover I bought six months ago and I spent the rest of the evening congratulating myself) but I don’t really feel the need to commemorate every single American holiday. My neighbors, however, do. And peer pressure is, I’m pretty sure, second in strength only to the pull of gravity. Or the Coriolis effect. (Side note: I only remember two things from high school science [Other side note: I managed to skip science all together in college so high school science is as far as I got]. Those two things were the Coriolis effect and the Capillary effect. I’ve found that most science clues on Jeopardy can be answered by one of these two terms. You should try it the next time you’re watching, or just slip them into your next cocktail party conversation if you want to sound smart.) …

oops-i-did-it-again

Yep, I’m Still in PJs…

In the words of the indelible Brittany Spears: Oops I did it again / I played with your heart / Got lost in the game By which I of course mean: Oops I did it again / I went a whole week / With nothing to say (We’ll ignore the fact that actually, it’s been longer than a week and that “again” and “say” don’t actually rhyme.) This is because renovating a house, teaching two college course and six tap classes each week is kind of difficult. Especially when you’re also writing a novel, doing freelance magazine work and essentially cohabitating with a rather sexy man for the first time in your life.  (More on that later.) I keep thinking I need to go to the doctor, to ask “Why-oh-why am I so tired ALL OF THE TIME???” But then I imagine said doctor just will respond, “Well, do you get eight hours of sleep? Do you exercise regularly? Do you take vitamin supplements?” and once I’ve answered “No” to all of these questions (and …

shower curtain

Shower Curtains or, Happiness in a Bag

I have found the secret to true happiness. Forget about friendship or love or building an enjoyable life. Really, it all comes down to shower curtains. Seriously. As most of you know, I am furnishing my house on a very strict budget and because I have made a commitment to purchasing fair trade or second hand goods whenever possible, my bathroom has been looking a bit… uncoordinated. The tile and the tub are a lovely pastel teal (circa 1970) but I’m more into turquoise. As such, I’ve ended up with an amalgamation of towels in teal (the hand towels; second hand), light blue (the bathmat; also second hand), gray (the bath towels; on clearance at Jomar’s) and turquoise (the special occasions bath towels, which were in fact purchased at Macy’s in a moment of consumerist weakness, facilitated by the existence of several girl cards; I feel so guilty about them that I don’t even use them; only PIC does). At any rate, I’ve been feeling rather down in the dumps about my bathroom. Then I …

downton-abbey-mary-3

Downton Abbey: The Price of Good Wine

Okay, don’t kill me but Downton Abbey just isn’t doing it for me this year. This may be because I don’t have a TV in my new house yet, so my options are: Stream the newest episode from my computer screen but it’s kind of small and since I don’t have a couch yet either, it’s kind of uncomfortable. Plus there are so many people streaming at 9:00pm that I have to wait a good 30 minutes to get started and if you have mother like mine (who sends frequent mid-episode text messages to register her unrelenting hatred of Mary), this gets a bit troublesome. Go to my parents’ house. My parents have a nice TV. And a nice couch. And way better wine than me. So this would be the better option. Except for the fact that watching Downton at my parents’ house involves… well… my parents. I love my parents, I really do, but watching TV with them is like watching TV with a bunch of drunken preschoolers who had too much candy …

Shoe-photo

Throwback Thursday: Barefoot in the Faculty Lounge

The college semester is starting up again although I lucked out with an extra week of prep time thanks to Martin Luther King Day.  Here’s a throwback post for all of my professorial friends (of both the adjunct and non-adjunct variety). In my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear my (fake) snakeskin peep toe stilettos this morning. Why? Well, I was teaching my first summer class of the semester. And my experience with summer semesters is that the students don’t really want to be there, even less so than regular-semester students. As such, I decided to head them off at the pass with my very best power suit (to show them that I mean business), and orange juice and donuts (to show that I am nice and approachable and care about their well being). I teach in heels all the time. I like heels. They make me feel older and more put together than I actually am and usually, they’re not a problem. But I failed to take into account that this morning’s lecture, on …

feel-felt-found

Throwback Thursday: Feel, Felt, Found (or how to deal with difficult people)

I know, I know: you don’t care what books I’m reading.  Or what my house looks like.  Or how I feel about what my house looks like.  You want to know THE DEAL WITH THE FLOWERS.  WHERE DID THEY COME FROM?  WHO PUT THEM THERE??? And I will spill the beans soon, I promise.  But in the meantime, in honor of the new semester getting underway, here is a little Throwback Thursday post to tide you over: Recently I attended an in-service training day at the community college where I teach anthropology.  This is interesting because A) they brought in a corporate communication coach to talk to us about dealing with difficult people and B) I relayed the coach’s strategies to my mother. The coach didn’t say “dealing with difficult people” of course.  She said “acknowledging and addressing the needs of your students” (or something like that) and proceeded to explain a three-prong acknowledge-and-address approach: Step 1) “Feel” Step 2) “Felt” Step 3) “Found” Basically, when a student comes to you with a problem or …

El Salvador Sunday 529

Press Trip Lesson #2: El Bano…

It’s our first day out of San Salvador and between the drive down to the coast, the boat ride through the mangrove forest and the fresh coconut water served in an actual coconut with an actual straw, I’m feel rather high on life. There’s only one problem. I availed myself of not one but two tropical juices at the hotel’s continental breakfast (research, right?), plus the coconut water, plus an entire liter of regular water to ward off the inevitable jetlag. (It’s only two hours but I am prone to narcoleptic-like behavior on a good day so I’m not taking my chances.) And now I’m in a little tiny boat, somewhere between the Pacific Ocean, the Lepa river, the floating Hooters restaurant in the middle of the estuary (I’m not kidding), and the dock. And my bladder is threatening to explode. I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want my colleagues to think I’m some sort of press trip amateur, even though I am, so I cross my legs and force myself to think …