You Gotta Have Friends

I'm no comedian, in fact I'm pretty dry, but I think I can hold my own when it comes to humor, quick wit, and the occasional stinger (when/if provoked). I'm usually pretty original, too. Sometimes, though, there are just no better words than those of my 'friends': Ross, Rachel, Monica, Joey, Chandler, and Phoebe. And believe you me, I don't hesitate to quote them verbatim. I swear, almost every funny and outlandish thing that happens in life can be referenced back to an episode of, in my opinion, the best sitcom ever. Even the most routine, stupid, inconsequential thoughts that go through your head have probably been the topic of conversation while at Central Perk. I think back, a couple of years ago, my best friend and I attempted to move a 7-foot, gazillion-pound armoire up the steps to her foyer, all the while barely moving an inch at a time because we were too busy laughing and yelling, 'pivot!'. Thanks Ross, Chandler, and Rachel for that memory. I can't count how many times I've used Joey's line, 'how you doin'?', or intentionally air-quoted the wrong phrase. That one gets a giggle out of me every time! The most recent reference, however, has been with regards to the fashion craze of knee boots worn with everything - jeans, skirts, shorts, sweat pants, lingerie, etc. etc. The epi where Monica buys the expensive boots, claims that she'll wear them with everything, then ends up nearly being crippled by them? Hilarious! And the episodes, now that I think about it, were always appropriately titled: 'the one where...'. It was as if the writers knew that someday the show would be so darn quotable and made it easy for us to give props to the character who said it. If I had a nickel for every time I said, 'remember the one where...'. Even though Thursday nights have forever been changed, it's a good thing true friendships (and comedy) last forever, even if only in syndication.

LMN

Caution: May Cause GI Upset, Headache, Low Self-Esteem...

Have you ever had a hard time accepting a compliment? Someone tells you that you're pretty or smart; that your shoes are fantastic or they love your haircut? We (and by 'we' I mean 'me') try to shrug it off and negate the potential esteem-booster with something like, 'oh, no I'm not', or 'these old things?'. It's not that I'm unappreciative or trying to be snide, but often times compliments are like pills - the bigger they are, the harder they are to take. Case in point. This woman approaches me in a local store, tells me how beautiful I am, how she loves my shoes, hair, scarf, blah, blah, blah. The whole time I'm thinking this conversation is leading to one of three places: (1) she's going to ask me for money (2) she wants me to sign up for something...which is going to cost me money or (3) she's trying to distract me so that she can steal my purse and, you guessed it, take my money. Well, money nor theft was involved in the end, but she did ask, albeit sweetly, if I would be interested in participating in a make-over project she was doing for her cosmetic sales job. Hmmm...okay, does anyone else see the irony here? If I was so 'beautiful' (her word, not mine), then why did I need a make-over? Puzzling, I know. Just goes to show: when given a compliment, swallow it quickly, say 'thank you', and hope like hell it doesn't make you feel worse.

LMN

I'm Bringin' Blogging Back

Ahhh, yes...JT would be so proud of me ripping off his title track, but oh well. New year, new blog and if Timberlake and Timbaland can bring sexy back, then surely I can get this thing up and running once again. No more futile efforts or good intentions - I have a blog to do.

LMN

A Fine Line Between Scary and Funny

In the spirit of Halloween, some of my girlfriends and I decided we would pay homage to the eerie classics and held our own version of 'old school' scary movie night. Friday the 13th, circa 1980, was at the top of the list. It had been years (and years) since I had seen it; must have blocked it out entirely because, hello, didn't remember Kevin Bacon being in the movie. The guy really is only separated six degrees from everything, even Jason Voorhees! What I did remember from the movie, though, was the sound effects. You know, 'ooh, ooh, ahh, ahh, ahh'? For those of us who have a cinematic aversion to scary movies all together, I appreciate the 5-syllable warning; at least I know when someone is going to get the axe, or the knife, or the frying pan...wait, wait a minute, the frying pan? Okay, seriously, how scary is that? Does that really deserve the creepy crescendo? Nah. But, if I had been in charge of which scenes were worthy of warning, there were a few where I needed a quick second to cover my mouth - to muffle the screams of laughter: the one where the counselors are in tube socks, Chuckie T's, and white plastic belts; the below-the-waist shot of K.Bake in his speedo; when the chick loses her clothes in strip Monopoly and instead of putting them back on heads out into the rain wearing nothing but a child-size raincoat and no shoes; or, when Jason's mom starts talking like an 8-year old boy. You see, that's why I don't watch scary movies...they're just too funny.

LMN

It Was A Hit!

My hair dryer was a victim of a MOB (aka Majorly Overworked Blowdryers) hit this morning. To its credit, it went out in a blaze of glory - firing at every outlet in my bathroom and bedroom before giving in to the MOB's demand: early retirement. After all these years, being overheated and under-rewarded for its 'mane'aculous accomplishments and loyalty, it finally blew its last blow...and unfortunately, what a blow to my ego it was. I actually had to sit in front of a fan to attempt to dry this blonde mop and then, had to venture out in public looking like a wet dog, or should I say rat? Hmmm....
I guess humiliation, not to mention pneumonia, are the least of my worries because I have this gut feeling that today was just the beginning. First the hair dryer; tomorrow, the curling iron gets whacked. It's already showing weakness and in organized hair care, weakness just doesn't curl it.

LMN

Gone Gucci Gone

For those of us who are label lovers, fashion is a religion. We worship the one-name gods – Marc, Michael, Oscar, Carolina, Chanel (drifts off in wonder…). Developing our fashion aesthetic has taken years of soul searching, personality analysis, and okay, let’s be honest, figure obsessing. Through those years, we have accumulated more than fabric; we have collected wearable pieces of art. So, you can imagine my shared horror and outrage when my best friend called to tell me the news: when picking up her dry cleaning, she realized that of all the items in her bag the one conveniently ‘missing’ happened to be a treasured Gucci blouse. And not just any Gucci blouse. This one was THE blouse – the one that hugged all the right spots, accentuated all the right parts, and to add insult to injury, was proudly rescued at a last-call sale at Neiman Marcus. It couldn’t have been the stupid Ann Taylor button-down to bite the bullet, or the used-to-be-black-but-now-a-faded-charcoal-looking-color pair of pants that is too tight anyway? No, of course not; it had to be the holy grail of the bunch. Conspiracy theories arose and the thought of theft crossed her mind. After an exchange of words and a day, the blouse was miraculously found and returned unharmed. Yes, one might beg, borrow, or buy to satisfy a designer addiction, but to steal? C’mon…the thought alone is just sacrilegious.

LMN

Occupational Hazard?

It took me starting a blog to experience my first bout of writer's block and I have to say...it's quite frustrating. I'm not accustomed to unlimited word counts, free reign of topics, and no editor input/feedback (gasp!). This freedom is almost too liberating! Perhaps in my case, this is more of 'shock block' than just the pure absence of words, or so I'm telling myself. With that said, I welcome this blogging adventure and as I find my words (or they find me), I promise to share.

LMN