The good ones may be hard to find, but the not-so-good ones are everywhere

So I'm trolling listings online again, glutton for punishment amusement that I am. Surprisingly, there are at least five men who've caught my interest, but no definitive word yet on whether I've caught any of theirs. Meanwhile, the crop of profiles that test my faith in this whole process is as large as ever. I'm taking a little liberty with my "30 Dates in 30 Days" theme today in the interest of revisiting the Friday Five game I seem to have abandoned indefinitely.

I present you with...

Five men I will NOT be going on any dates with

1. The guy whose tagline reads, "Hey ladys if your looking for the some what boy next door thats me. Fun loving easy going just a man who's up for just about anything." People, in my profile I include punctuation as an interest and I suggest that my perfect match will confidently know the difference between "your" and "you're." I am well aware that both those items might turn some prospects off, but decided that the men who would be annoyed are likely not the ones I want to meet anyway. My profile might as well say "Bookish nerd seeks same." Does the fact that this man winked at me mean that A) he did not actually read my profile, B) he honestly thinks he has a grasp on grammar and punctuation, or C) he's conducting a social experiment? I do not know.
   
   
2. The guy who said, "I do not have a life partner. It is just a search to find the right person. The right person would make the world perfect." I'm going to ignore the part about a woman making his life perfect and just focus on that first sentence. Are there people on Catch dot Mom (copyright Liz) who actually have found their life partner? If so, what are they doing there? I'm going to say that first part should go without saying, but perhaps I'm just a little naive.
   
   
3. Anyone with a blurry photo no larger than a postage stamp, or strangely featuring a Senior pictures-like pose. (These two gentlemen just winked at me. Am I being closed-minded by clicking "Not interested"?)
   
   
   
   
   
   
4. The guy who claimed to be a 41-year-old "intellectual jewish boy," but wrote a message in the style of a 14-year-old child. You think I'm exaggerating. I am not. Here it is:
   
   Hey Stephanie hope your happy today, it seems like most people in the cities are, but I'm still waiting to here about Al Franken, (he's like my Brothers hero) I got him a T shirt and need to go mail it to him.Anyway my computer is completely fakacked all sorts of errors and virus's on it. I'm not that savey so I need to either take it to someone or buy a new one, I'm not sure which would be cheaperhope your having a nice day
   
   Note the repeated misuse of "your," the multiple misspellings (including my name), the entirely arbitrary punctuation and capitalization, and the utter lack of content of any import.
   
   
5. Any guy whose tagline says, "I promise to lie about where we met." Really? Are we really still doing that "fake-ashamed to be here" thing? I'm here; you're here. And most of our friends probably met online. Get over it.
   

Remind me again why I'm doing this?

FYI: Jane Austen books and Jimmy Stewart films don't count either

I picked up the third of the Twilight books last night. So much for Web-based library reservation systems allowing me to indulge in the ridiculousness of teenage vampire love in private... When I scanned the shelves of the "Holds" area, there was a decidedly Eclipse-sized gap in the section of the alphabet where my book should be. I looked; I looked some more; and then I went to log in to my account on a library computer to make sure I hadn't remembered the date wrong and in fact, Eclipse was supposed to be on hold for me through September 11 at closing time. After verifying all of the above, I finally went to the circulation desk and casually jingled my keys to get the librarian's attention.

Me: Um, I'm supposed to have a book on hold through today, but it's not over on the Reserve shelf. There seems to be a gap right where it should be, though, so...

Slightly sketchy-looking male librarian: Can I see your library card?

I handed over my card, and he scanned it in their little system. Then he smiled and handed my card back to me.

SSLML (chuckling): That's a special book. It's so special, in fact, that we keep it... (pause while he hunts around the shelf behind the circulation desk) ...back here!

I'm not sure what the slightly sketchy-looking beady-eyed librarian was actually telling me. It's feasible, I suppose, that those ridiculous Twilight books are in high enough demand that they need to keep the reserved copies out of the general public's eye to avoid theft or angry jealous revolt. But I saw a copy of New Moon hanging out seemingly peacefully in the "F"s of the Reserve shelves, so I highly doubt that is the case. More likely, they'd just removed it from the hold shelf already, assuming I wouldn't come to get it before closing time. Or maybe Slightly Sketchy Librarian is reading the Twilight series himself, in fits and starts as reserved copies are returned temporarily to the shelves.

Either way, I refused to be embarrassed about it. Hello, my name is Stefanie; I am 34 years old, and I am reading a young adult vampire series. I am not the only one, clearly. I see no reason to hide in shame.

Still, the incident brought me back to a conversation at the Pizza Farm Tuesday night. The topic was "Guilty Pleasures." I thought it would be a fun game for everyone to play. Unfortunately, while some people came out with "Ludicris" and "Talking to oneself in a Sean Connery voice" (which is really more "secret single behavior" than "guilty pleasure," but it's amusing anyway), the best answer a particular too-refined-for-her-own-good friend of mine could come up with was, "I really enjoy popular fiction... you know, things like The Time Traveler's Wife."

The Time Traveler's Wife? Are you kidding me? John Grisham or James Patterson I'll give you. Harlequin romance novels? Certainly. But The Time Traveler's Wife? I'm gonna call that fully valid modern fiction and claim there's no shame in adding that title to your reading queue. Dear, dear Carrie. Lovely Carrie. You are brilliant and fabulous and good at lots and lots of things, but I'm sorry: you suck at this game.

I haven't done a Friday Five in a good long while, so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to enumerate something at my own expense. The problem is I actually have very few secrets here. I've probably already admitted each of these somewhere within my archives before. Also, I'm sure I could come up with more shameful admissions if I'd just give it a bit more thought. Off the top of my head, though, here they are. Five guilty pleasures o' mine.

1. Kraft Singles (straight from the fridge, or torn in pieces and scattered on a tortilla--microwave for 30 seconds and then roll up like a yoga mat. Um, an edible yoga mat. Mmm.)
   
   
2. Linkin Park
   
   
3. McDonald's Filet-o-Fish
   
   
4. Various long-canceled hits from the WB: In particular, What I Like About You, Reba, and yes, Dawson's Creek
   
   
5. Wham! (Seriously. Every time I for any reason think of them, I vow I will buy this on CD. In fact, fuck it. I am adding it to my Wish List right now. Come on, don't you want to buy it for me?)
   

You know what would make this game a whole lot more fun, though? If all of you played along, too. Come on, spill it. What's your guilty pleasure? And none of this valid modern authors nonsense.

Sunday Six Musical Mix

Hello, friends. It goes without saying, of course, but how about one more round of applause for our pal NPW and her mad creative vision and organizational skillz? By presumably all accounts, CYOB 2.0 was a rousing success. Wasn't that fun? I thought so. Bravo. Energetic golf claps all around to all involved.

It's been a busy weekend here, and I have a busy week ahead, but I did want to post something to keep you occupied for the next few days. Unfortunately, both my mental and physical energy are a bit drained at the moment. Seems like a good time for a "just post a link" sort of thing. And since Friday's CYOB adventures meant no Friday Five around these parts, how about a Sunday Six instead?

Six Songs I've Been Digging Lately

1. Haley Bonar - Something Great
   Do those of you not Twin Cities-based know about Haley Bonar yet? She is spritely and adorable and is the songstress behind the latest "I simply must dance around my living room right now" song. Unfortunately, the available videos of this one are scarce, but you can check out her MySpace page for more and clearer photos and clips. Meanwhile, here's the song that's got me bopping wherever I am whenever it comes on.
   
   
   
   
2. Billy Bragg - M for Me
   I have been digging the whole of Mr. Love and Justice, actually, but this one in particular is one of my favorites.
   
   
   
   
3. Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal
   Um, do I need some sort of commentary for all of these? I'm gonna go with "No." Just enjoy this song in its loveliness, OK?
   
   
   
   
4. Aimee Mann - Borrowing Time
   Aimee Mann is one of those artists I very much enjoy seeing live and yet, for whatever reason rarely queue up on my iFraud or listen to on CD. In person, however, she is smart and funny and seemingly very comfortable building crowd rapport, and I highly recommend you check her out the next time she is in your town. Her latest single Borrowing Time might not have struck me significantly, had I not heard her launch into a nearly ten-minute story about the birth of the song when I saw her at the Minnesota Zoo earlier this summer. I can't find an embeddable video of the song online, but a similar version of that ten-minute story is here...
   
   
   
   As for the song itself, click through and listen to a brief advertisement here, and the song should begin momentarily.
   
   
5. Feist - I Feel it All
   What's that I said about no commentary on some of these? Same goes for this one, I guess.
   
   
   
   
6. Mika - Grace Kelly
   Like a few others in this list, this song isn't new. I first heard it on a compilation CD my boss got as a holiday gift from a client. She perused the track list and said, "I've never heard of any of these songs," and promptly offered the disc to me. This track was one of my favorites. I'm remembering it lately because my favorite radio station has been playing another Mika song in regular rotation. You should check that one out as well. Perhaps this should be a Sunday Seven. First, Grace Kelly...
   
   
   
   Next up, Love Today...
   
   
   
   

All right. I'll be back later in the week... after a few more social outings, including maybe or maybe not a neighborhood block party. See, that's the problem with asking the Internet if I should attend some particular event. The Internet says "Go!" and yet wallflower me isn't so sure she has the nerve. We shall see.

When you care enough to right-click and choose "Save Image As"

So by now we all know about Someecards, right? If not, you might not want to click that link unless you have an hour or so to spare. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I have sent many a Someecard to various friends already, but today Erikka and Allie gave me a way to send Someecards to all of you at the same time! Yay! I think this game has now passed itself along to enough people that it is officially a meme, which means that all of you should join in and play, too.

How? Easy. Just find five Someecards that describe yourself in amazingly unflattering ways. Here are mine.

Quirkier than thou

Well then. Blog Share was fun, but it was two days ago. I'd probably best be posting something new on top of my guest writer's fine contribution to the anonymous posting game, right?

Speaking of being behind, I'm a little late to the party on something else, too. My good pal Lara tagged me for a meme-er-roo a few weeks ago already, and I neglected to do anything about that. I am ignoring perfectly reasonable requests and I'm also making up silly words for words that were already silly enough. (Meme-er-roo? Did I really just do that? I did. Let's just move on, shall we?)

For this one, my task is to list six unspectacular quirks about myself. I'm sure I could come up with six quirks in addition to the 106 already spattered elsewhere within this site, but today is Friday, which means I'm going to make this a Friday Five instead. I'm also not tagging anybody to do this after me (though feel free to jump on this bandwagon if you feel so inclined). Look at me, breaking rules left and right. I'm quite the rebel, obviously.

Anyway. Six Five unspectacular quirks about yours truly. Start the drum roll now.

1. Unlike Lara with her errant vertebra, I can do a cartwheel. Yes, even at the creaky old age of 34. I actually make a point to do a cartwheel at least once a year just to make sure I still can. (That last part might actually be more of a quirk than the fact that I can do a cartwheel is.)
   
   
2. I like ice in my milk. The only way I'll drink it is if it's very cold, and ice is the simplest way to ensure that. No, it doesn't taste too watered down (for me). No, I don't think it's weird.
   
   
3. I like cherries, but not anything artificially cherry flavored. Also, I'd throw maraschino cherries into the category of "things artificially cherry flavored." Yuck.
   
   
4. I remember all the words to a song about a tortilla vendor that we learned in Spanish class in 10th grade. Or, I thought I did, anyway. When I sang this song to a guy in Mexico a few years ago, he seemed to have no idea what I was singing, so perhaps my Spanish (and my singing) is even worse than I thought.
   
   
5. Have I already told you about the toe thing? I don't wear flip flops or Tevas in public because I'm self-conscious about my mutant baby toe. Come to think of it, I think I have written about that before. And I should probably just stop mentioning it, lest you think I'm more of a monster than I actually am. I promise it's not anything that would scare a small child. One toe just sort of rests atop the adjacent one is all. On a freak level of 1 to 10, I like to think it rates no higher than a 4.5. No, I will not post a photo to let you judge.

So. What quirks have YOU not yet shared with the Internet at large (body-related, food-related, or otherwise)? Come on, spill 'em.

Stuff and whatnot

State of the Stefanie address: it is humid, I am tired, and my head hurts. It is humid because it's July in Minnesota; my head hurts possibly because this morning I had caffeine for the first time in several weeks (that is just a theory; it could be entirely unrelated, and I haven't even consciously given up the small amounts of caffeine I generally drink, so I don't know why that theory would even occur to me); and I am tired because I stayed up too late last night engrossed in that ridiculous vampire book.

You've heard about the crazy vampire books, right? The whole Internet is abuzz about them. It doesn't matter that we are grown women who have presumably little business reading something sold in the Young Adult section. I was not in the target demographic for Dawson's Creek, either, but that didn't stop me from getting fully wrapped up in the drama of Joey and Dawson and the "will they or won't they?" suspense. There's something momentarily appealing about putting my mind back in the mundane day-to-day details of high school life without actually having to revisit those days myself. In this case, however, it's high school drama and teen love plus vampires. Tell me, who wouldn't revel in the ridiculousness of that?

So. Reading about teen vampire love is what I've been up to lately. That and baking and packing for a couple of days at a friend's cabin this weekend. I shall be contributing chocolate chip cookies and seven-layer bars, as per usual, as well as a couple of bottles of wine likely destined to become ghetto sangria. Yum. (Do you know about ghetto sangria? Mix red wine and cranberry juice in more or less equal measure. Add a splash of lime juice if you're feeling extra kicky. Voila. Instant summer refreshment without all the fuss of slicing oranges and lemons and such.)

As if jumping from possible caffeine headaches to vampire love to sangria recipes wasn't disjointed enough, how about I do this post up Funky Carter style and give you a little Friday Randomness? And since I haven't done a Friday Five in a good long while, how about I do so in five-point form? All right then.

1. Something surprising happened in the checkout line at Target recently. No, I did not run into another former meMarmony date. What happened was the teenaged cashier asked me "Paper or plastic?" and I said, "Actually, I brought my own bag," and instead of looking at me as confused as if I'd just responded, "Hockey puck, rattle snake, monkey monkey underpants,"* she instead said, "Oh! Great! You actually get a 15 5** cent discount for each bag you bring!" What's this? Yay! A store other than the co-ops finally gets it. Thanks, San Francisco. (I can only assume they had something to do with this.) Furthermore, the teenaged cashier saw the reusable mesh produce bags in which I'd stashed two avocados and asked, "Are those reusable vegetable bags?? BRILLIANT!" I'm glad she was as excited about them as I was when I first learned of them. Maybe there's hope for all of us yet. In fact, I am proud to report that I have remembered to bring my own bags shopping so often lately that I am nearly OUT of paper bags in which to sort my recyclables for pickup. Yay me. (Also, note to self: Go ahead and forget your bags once or twice every now and then. You'll actually need a few old paper ones next recycling day.)
   
   -------------------------------------------
   * Bonus points to anyone who remembers where this reference is from. Incidentally, the points cannot be redeemed for anything of value.
   
   ** Whoops. I meant 5, not 15. I saved a whopping 15 cents total by bringing three bags. Just thought I'd clarify for anyone who was jealous of Minnesota's seemingly inordinately generous bag credit policy.
   -------------------------------------------
   
   
2. I am well aware that all things old are new again and that I should just shut up already about the ridiculousness that is the return of leggings and bubble tops, but can I still please draw your attention to the fact that American Apparel apparently decided that Hypercolor needed to see a comeback as well? Really, I don't know why this should surprise me. The meeting where that decision was made likely involved the same people as the one in which they decided to start marketing a skirt that I bought last summer as a dress. I actually like this skirt quite a bit (click the "Cranberry" link for a better view), but even if I were 23 and had the AA cup size that the "White" and "Lime" models are sporting, I can see no reason to make it a multi-purpose garment.
   
   
3. Speaking of things I don't need to purchase, did you know you can grow your one "1-up mushroom" right on your desk? You can also make your living room look like a Mario board. I know what my little sister wants for Christmas this year.
   
   
4. I have been mostly ignoring my Sitemeter account lately, but when I reviewed the weekly report today, I saw that approximately three times as many people as usual visited Stefanie Says on July 7. Are people really that interested in hot electricians? Was I linked on some sort of "Sexy Servicemen" site that I'm unaware of? Since the basic Sitemeter account stores detailed data for only the past 100 visits, this is a mystery to which I'll never have an answer, but it's curious to me anyway.
   
   
5. And finally, a poll, if you will. My next-door work neighbor has been in the habit of abruptly moving or minimizing his Internet Explorer window every time he hears me coming around the corner. Apparently my noisy flip-floppy Born sandals aren't enough of a warning for him, though, because the maneuver is never quick enough that I don't see it. My question is, should I tell him, "Listen, buddy, I really don't care if you're on the Internet at work," or should I let him continue to believe I have any sort of power around here and could actually get him in any sort of trouble for that sort of thing and lecture him on the virtues of work ethic? Because we all know that I would never use my employer's Internet connection for anything but the most important and work-related of purposes. (I'm sure none of the rest of you would either.)
   
   

And on that note, I think it's time to fill out my time sheet for the day and shut down and head out of here. Happy weekend, all!

Over/Under

Blatantly stolen from Whiskeymarie, Abbersnail, and the blogger formerly known as Maliavale (all of whom I am too lazy to link to right now).


Five things that are (in my opinion) overrated

1. Sex & the City*
   
   
2. Owning a cabin**
   
   
3. Chipotle***
   
   
4. Breaking out the shorts and sandals as soon as it's warmer than 50 degrees outside
   
   
5. Most dogs
   

Five things that are (again, in my mind only) underrated

1. Getting enough sleep
   
   
2. Staying in on Friday nights
   
   
3. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches
   
   
4. Proper grammar and spelling
   
   
5. Public libraries (and, more specifically, library online reservation systems)
   

Why do I feel like that first list might get me lynched and that second list just proves I'm an even bigger nerd than I already realized?

What's on your over/under list?


-------------------------------------
* There. I said it. Yes, I watched the show just like the rest of you, and I'm sure I'll see the movie, too. But can we please stop talking about it after that? Please? Thank you.

** Having a friend with a cabin, though? Definitely worthwhile.

*** Settle down. I thoroughly enjoy a giant burrito every now and then just like the rest of you. I just don't think it's a near-religious experience any time I do.

(I'll really stop footnoting every one of these now.)
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Five things I have learned in the past week

1. I am incapable of making an error in my checkbook that works in my favor.
   
   
2. If you tell the lady at the deli counter that you want a half a pound of cheese, but do not tell her that you would like it in one big block because you plan to shred it, she will give it to you sliced.
   
   2b. It is not as easy to shred sliced cheese as you might think it is.
   
   
3. Low sodium soy sauce does not taste just like regular soy sauce.
   
   3b. It's not terrible, however.*
   
   
4. Not everyone believes that flossing your teeth falls unquestionably under the list of activities it is NOT OK to do while driving.
   
   
5. My wiseguy coworker does not own any pants other than jeans (and he fails to see why I think this is absurd and possibly indicative of some sort of mild failure in life).
   
   5b. Apparently you can both take the girl out of Wisconsin and Wisconsin out of the girl. **

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* And even if it were, I would feel awfully silly complaining about it after paying only $1.48 for the bottle on clearance at SuperTarget.

** And apparently my father was right and living in the city has turned me into a huge snob. Whoops.
----------------------------------------

Also, I just realized Jeopardy! is on at 3:00*

Well, I fought a good fight for a while, but the cold was winning, so I finally gave in and left work early yesterday and also stayed home from work today. And while that whole "when life hands you lemons" mindset tells me to enjoy an excuse to relax without guilt, to realize that an aching head and a fever are perfectly good reasons to spend an entire day alternating between my couch and my bed, I still fear an intervention may be in order. Why?

Five reasons it's a good thing I'm not home during the day every day.

1. Ellen
2. Gilmore Girls and Full House reruns on ABC Family
3. Little House on the Prairie on the Hallmark channel
4. HGTV
5. Oprah

People, I didn't even remember I had ABC Family or the Hallmark channel. I have got to rally myself into an upright position and leave the house soon.

On the up and productive side, I have finally almost finished hand-stitching the binding on my quilt. If this cold doesn't let up soon, I may even finish those damn socks as well. We shall see.


--------------------------
* Ooh! But it's on opposite back-to-back episodes of What I Like About You! I really, really shouldn't have consulted the Yahoo TV listings today.
--------------------------

We get by with a little help from our friends

A dear blog friend of mine (actually, scratch that "blog" qualifier; she's totally a real friend by now) had a bit of a rough week, for ridiculous reasons that I still can't quite wrap my head around. Anyone who reads Noelle's blog already knows all the nonsense she's had to put up with the past few days, all because a bunch of people with no sense of humor or perspective couldn't tell the difference between a sarcastic, self-deprecating post and a sincere, shallow jab at a nameless man, and they decided that disagreeing with a couple hundred words on a stranger's personal blog (a couple hundred words that weren't even written to be taken seriously or literally by any means) was cause to spew hate and judgment and in some cases, actual calls for bodily harm. It was absurd. And although I'm sure Noelle herself knows it was absurd and would probably much rather just move on and forget about all this than have any of us dwell on it any longer, I'd still like her to know that the people who actually know her and have read more than that one isolated (And also? Hilarious.) post know that there are plenty of reasons every rude, thoughtless word typed about her is entirely wrong.

So with that, today’s Friday Five is for you, my friend.

Five reasons Noelle is awesome

1. She had the strength to end a relationship with a man whom she loved but couldn't give her what she needs. A whole lot of us know how easy it is to make excuses, to tell yourself things are "good enough," to coast along in a situation that's comfortable but not entirely fulfilling because it's easier than acknowledging that something important is missing and having the guts to break away and start over again from scratch. Knowing what's best for yourself in the long run is one thing. Having the strength to do what's best even when it's scary and sad and lonely is quite another.
   
   
2. She gets to work with books every day of her life, and she spends her weekends working with books some more. Also, in an age when so many people assume the independent bookseller is doomed, she makes her living getting books to them.
   
   
3. She managed to post every day of NaBloPoMo, despite landing in the hospital with a broken ankle on the very first day of the challenge and being laid up with (one would think) little to write about for several weeks thereafter.
   
   
4. She has more discipline than I can comprehend or relate to in any way. Getting up two hours before the sun in the cold dead of winter to shiver her way to a swim workout? Eschewing cheese and ice cream for an entire month and all forms of pasta for the following one? I cry a little bit inside just thinking about it. Noelle, you’re some kind of superhero as far as I'm concerned. Go you.
   
   
5. She created a brilliant recap of The Ruins that by several accounts is far more entertaining than the film itself. If ever a post of Noelle’s deserved a flurry of 136 lively comments, it was this one, not the one that proved to us that the Internet is not always the warm, happy supportive place we've grown to love. I am telling you, if you have not yet seen Noelle’s Dollar Store doll reenactment of The Ruins, you must click over immediately. I promise it's the funniest thing you will read all week.

On top of all that, she is smart and clever and pretty and she lives on a Christmas Tree farm! What's not to like about any of that? I could go on, but you get the point. Noelle is the proverbial cat's pajamas, the bee's knees, and all sorts of other non-animal-related superlatives as well. Show her some love in the comments, if you'd like. And happy Friday, all.

I'm not The Luckiest

Well. That was fun, wasn't it? Thank you to everyone who played my little guessing game on Friday. I suppose I've kept you waiting long enough. Here's the follow-up to my "Four mini claims to fame and one great big ol' lie" post.

1. My friend Amy designed the Summit beer label.
   True. I actually meant logo, not label, but whatever. Close enough. Amy is a graphic designer for a local advertising agency, and Summit is just one of the many brands she's worked on. She got married last fall, but in her online dating days, this tidbit proved an excellent fun fact to share in early emails and first dates. Oddly, the men I date aren't nearly as impressed or interested when I talk about my job. Go figure.
   
   
2. My friend Carrie once had a poem published in Sassy.
   True. When I learned this about a year ago, I was sure I likely still had the issue in my old bedroom at my parents' house, and I was excited to go look for it the next time I went home. As it turns out, my old Sassy issues must have ended up in the same black hole that my prom pictures did. I have three years of Seventeen (in all their stirrup panted, blue eye shadowed, mall haired glory), but any evidence that I ever subscribed to a more reputable teen mag is entirely missing. Oddly, though, when Carrie mailed me the poem to share with all of you, I honestly thought I remembered reading it years ago. Maybe I do.
   
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   I missed the inauguration
   while I was studying
   war was declared
   I'm not sure why
   I was studying
   during a breathtaking sunset
   I was in my room
   when the wall fell
   I was studying.
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   
   Carrie also shared with me her thought process behind the poem. She says, "I have a weird memory of studying for a biology exam when the Gulf War was declared. Things felt disjointed because I was just a teenager and biology was supposed to be important, not war, and I couldn’t study for the exam. I wrote this poem, which I loved at the time because you could back up and repeat the line you just read along with the next one and string full sentences together."
   
   I remember writing my concerns about the war in my journal instead of studying the week the first Gulf War began, too, but my thoughts never got published in a magazine. Or anywhere, obviously. I am a poster child for mediocrity. Moving on...
   
   
   
3. My friend Tina's brother had a brief role on the WB gem What I Like About You.
   True. I learned this when I stayed at her apartment in Seattle a few months ago. Flipping through her DVDs, I came across a few currently unreleased DVDs from the last season of the show. Obviously she had no idea What I Like About You was a guilty pleasure of mine when it was on the air, because she rushed to defend and explain herself. "Hey, I actually liked that show," I reassured her. "Really?" she replied. And then, "Yeah, I guess it wasn't so bad." Regardless, I do not remember her brother's character, so I'll have to borrow those discs (or wait for them to show up on Netflix) to see him.
   
   
4. I once got to join Ben Folds on the piano at First Avenue (in a lucky "volunteer from the audience" moment).
   False. As soon as I clicked "Publish," I thought I'd made this game entirely too easy and surely all of you would know this was not true. (3Carnations guessing this one right out of the gate only reinforced that suspicion.) So I was glad to see that at least not all of you immediately thought this was obviously and ridiculously untrue. I maintain that it is not entirely absurd an idea... I've been to two Better than Ezra shows where they took a volunteer from the audience to accompany them on guitar, so I say it could just as easily happen with Ben and the piano. I played piano for several years, so technically I'd be qualified to volunteer, but I haven't practiced in years, so I'd surely make much more a fool of myself than the Better than Ezra groupie kid did. I'd probably struggle with the notes just as woefully as Kerri Green in Goonies. Being booed at every wrong note is probably a more favorable fate than having portions of the ledge I'm on fall beneath me with each mistake, but it would be no less nerve wracking, I imagine.
   
   
5. My friend Jenny's grandpa named Rocky Road ice cream.
   True. Her grandpa owned an ice cream company in St. Paul, and apparently one day he decided that Chocolate Marshmallow Nut Swirl was "too damn long," so he decided to call it Rocky Road instead. The name stuck. Or so the story goes. Wikipedia doesn't corroborate the story, but I believe her anyway. Wouldn't you?
   

Almost Famous

I was thinking the other day about what an unlikely (but fantastic) claim to fame NPW's friends have gained on their cross-country typo hunt. (Yeah, did you miss the fact that NPW actually knows those guys? She totally does.) It never occurred to me that being a stickler for spelling and grammar could get me on TV. Now that that's been done, however, I'll have to find my 15 minutes elsewhere.

This got me thinking about tiny claims to fame or almost-fame, and I decided that a "brush with greatness" list would make a good Friday Five. (Remember when I used to do those every week? Yeah, so do I. It's hard to come up with a new list topic every week! YOU try it for 94 weeks in a row!)

Anyway, so I decided to make a list. Unfortunately, I came up with only four items to put on it. Know what that means? One of these is a lie. Can you guess which one? There will be no prizes, but feel free to guess your little hearts out anyway.


Four Mini Claims to Fame (and one that's just great ol' big lie)

1. My friend Amy designed the Summit beer label.
2. My friend Carrie once had a poem published in Sassy.
3. My friend Tina's brother had a brief role on the WB gem What I Like About You.
4. I once got to join Ben Folds on the piano at First Avenue (in a lucky "volunteer from the audience" moment).
5. My friend Jenny's grandpa named Rocky Road ice cream.

It's an interactive Friday Five! Let's play!

Five signs I am obviously 33 going on 63

1. I just spent $62 on anti-wrinkle products in a quite likely futile attempt to stave off an inevitable process that I'm not ready to accept. At the moment, I am worried only about my face, but I'm sure it's only a matter of months before I'm whining that I feel bad about my neck.
   
   
2. Recently I made a joke during an exchange with a waitress, and she just smiled an uncertain, nervous "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I still want a tip so I'll humor you" smile. I have seen that same smile on countless waitrons over the years, but never as a result of something I said. No, generally my near-elderly dad is the source of that. I had no idea I was so close behind. (Incidentally, the date I was with got the joke. But he said he knew immediately that our waitress wouldn't.)
   
   
3. On a related note, I recently complimented the youngster manning the register at Target on his unusually fine and careful bagging job by comparing it to Tetris. And then I looked at him with a sideways glance and asked, "Are you old enough to remember Tetris?" Apparently kids still play Tetris, so he looked at me like I was insane. Or, you know, 63. Which obviously I am. Good lord.
   
   
4. I had my first quilting class Wednesday night, and not only am I quilting, but my back is sore from it. I'm going to console myself with the thought that anyone would be a bit stiff after standing in a hunched over position for well over an hour because they're too focused on the new and unfamiliar task at hand to, I don't know, grab a chair and SIT DOWN? The alternative (that I'm so out of shape that even quilting is a workout for me) is simply too ludicrous to consider.
   
   
5. I fell on my ass (or rather, my hip) walking out of a parking ramp the other day, and I have been taking tiny, careful, old-lady steps to avoid a similar mishap ever since. In a strange bit of coincidence, the emails collecting in my Spam folder lately have repeatedly referred to hip implants. As I am perhaps unreasonably convinced that Yahoo spam is freakily customized to my age and lifestyle (they know I'm single, they know I'm 30-something, they know I'm balding and unable to please women with my male member... OK, just kidding on those last two, obviously), I've taken the hip implant messages personally, thinking Yahoo maybe knows something I don't. And what they know is I am old and feeble, clearly. Sigh. It couldn't possibly be that I just need better shoes. (It seems I lied to The Scientist after all. My shoes obviously aren't nearly sensible enough--at least not when there's this much ice around.)
   

----------------------------------------------------
P.S. I'll post the answers to the movie quiz a bit later. I'm still a bit curious if anyone will be less stumped than the folks who commented thus far. (Note: Sign #6 that I'm 33 going on 63? Who says "folks," really??)
----------------------------------------------------

Some things are best left unsaid

Since this week we had a get-things-off-your-chest week (or rather, day), it seems as good a time as any to jump on a bandwagon I've seen rolling by a few times. I have no idea anymore where I first saw these "Things I wish I could say" lists, but I know Lara's done it and -R-'s done it and Abbersnail's done it... (Who am I missing? NPW? You did this too, right? Sorry to you and anyone else whose lists I'm too lazy to find.)

I'm going to limit my list to five because... well, because it's Friday and I need a Friday Five, but also because if I write any more than that, I'm apt to write things that people who actually read this will wonder about, and then they'll be all "Was that about me?? This one's towards me, right?" So let me just avoid any trouble and say right now: if you're reading this, it's not about you! (If it is about you but I don't know you're reading this, well, then, that's hardly my fault, is it? It is? Oh. Whoops.)

ANYWAY. Five things I wish I could say, or I haven't said, or I really probably shouldn't say.

1. No one wants to hear you sing.
   
   
2. Why aren't any of your pants long enough? I am taller than you are, and MY pants fit! Do you not own a mirror, perhaps?
   
   
3. You really, really don't need to touch me just to get past me in a two-foot-wide hallway. In fact, you don't need to touch me ever. At all.
   
   
4. I'm over it, but I still sometimes feel you owe me an apology for breaking my heart and a thank you for fixing yours.
   
   
5. I know you've got some stuff to work through, but I still wish you'd try harder.

I couldn't help but wonder...

OK, seriously, Universe. Did you not get my memo? It is the Year of Stef, dammit. I proclaimed it; you are to make it so. And that means all bullshit where dating is concerned is to vanish and Mr. Considerate and Right-for-Me is supposed to appear. This new "positive attitude and optimism" thing I'm trying can go only so far; you really do need to pitch in a bit and throw me a bone.

All this is to say that I am home alone on a Friday night, partaking in long-neglected household chores like doing laundry and cooking a proper dinner and purging expired food from my cupboard and fridge, instead of hanging out with either of the prospects I was so excited and optimistic about a mere week ago. Mind you, I am actually not at all bothered by my home alone state right now... I'm sort of a hermit by nature, and frankly, all this exciting whirlwind single girl stuff does tend to wear on me fairly quickly and make me long for my couch and solitude. But still. It would be nice to have some options.

Date #2 with The Scientist was far from awful; it had its "on" and clever moments, I'd say. But thanks to either my near complete lack of sleep the previous night or the precarious phase of the moon (or some unfortunate combination thereof), the overall event was shrouded in a disconnect and awkwardness that I'm not entirely sure he's convinced is worth trying to charge past. Never mind the magic of that first date; apparently in the early stages, one "off" night just can't be overlooked. We shall see.

As for The Neighborhood Giant, I'm entirely baffled. Trust me; I have dated enough to know when to expect a vanishing act. I've been on both sides of that act more times than I care to recount, and I'd like to think I have a good feel for when to expect some follow up and when not to be surprised by a quiet slinking away. Last week's date (for which I'd rate rapport and conversation as comfortable and lively, respectively, and post-Boggle action as a second-date-appropriate PG-13) did not warrant any sort of vanishing act. In fact, it did not even occur to me to say, "So, give me a call..." as we parted, because it did not occur to me that he would not, in fact, call or write.

And yet, here I am, a week later, with no contact whatsoever, even after I gave in and broke all those stupid rules by sending a cleverish follow-up myself.

Since my life is apparently Sex & the City to some of you, I can explain this only in terms Miranda taught me. Remember that episode where she was stood up for a date, and decided it was so unforgivably rude that she was going to call the man on it and give him a piece of her feisty, red-headed mind? Remember how she phoned his home only to have his mother answer and find out he'd very recently died of a heart attack? Well, I'm going to presume The Neighborhood Giant clearly succumbed to some similar and dismal fate. It's the only excuse, wouldn't you say?

Except that no--it's maybe not the only explanation, and it would be harsh to wish him dead anyway. I haven't done a proper Friday Five in a while, so how's about I give you five other possible explanations for the unwarranted and unexpected disappearing act?

1. He carelessly walked his 6'7" self into the upper edge of a door frame (whilst daydreaming about me, most likely), and the impact caused short-term amnesia. The poor guy can't even remember where he works, I suspect; how can I fault him for forgetting about me?
   
   
2. Being a less-than-brilliant computer user, he foolishly visited a Web site that infected his computer with a virus and wiped out his entire mailbox, thereby losing both my e-mail address and any reference to my phone number. He's currently wandering my neighborhood, trying to remember exactly which blue house on which nearby street is mine, so he can come over to apologize and reunite in person.
   
   
3. He was more bothered than he let on by his tragic loss in Boggle, and he's simply too ashamed and wounded to ever show his face to me again.
   
   
4. He ate some bad sushi the day after our date and has been in a hospital bed, writhing in pain from a horrible bout of food poisoning ever since.
   
   
5. I have a secret admirer with a disturbing possessive and violent streak who didn't like the idea of any competition for my affection and therefore found The Neighborhood Giant and chained him to a pipe in a dark and scary basement, where no one can hear him scream.
   

All of these are valid explanations, I'm sure. It's just a matter of deciding which is most plausible, right?

And with that, I'm going to get on with my spinsterrific Friday. My oven timer just beeped, my dinner looks and smells awesome, and I've got a Netflix envelope I've been ignoring for weeks to open. Hope your weekend is less tinged with confusion and bitterness than mine's started with, and I'll catch up with all of you a bit later.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Update 2/24: OK, so he actually did e-mail me, approximately two hours after I posted this. His message was so maddeningly flip and casual, however, that I still don't know for sure what to make of it. Also, The Scientist finally called me tonight, so perhaps he has not written me off just yet either. See, this is why I generally avoid documenting date details unless I'm sure I am or am not going to see the guy again. This sort of back-and-forth overanalysis is really best left in my own head or in a private journal. Carry on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Five things I have relayed via email in the past 24 hours

(You know--because apparently I've forgotten how either complete and coherent posts or this Friday Five thing are supposed to work)

1. Methinks [personals site I'm on now] is where the lazy date seekers are. meHarmony is like the freshman mixer, where everyone's all gun-ho and dead-set on meeting people, walking up to each other and saying, "Hi! Nice to meet you! You're single? I'm single, too!" [New site] is like some random bar downtown--a bunch of people sitting around scoping each other out but not motivated enough to take any action. We're all just parked on a barstool, thinking, "Eh. If someone talks to me, I won't make them go away, but I'm not putting forth any effort." We could do this just as easily, well, at a BAR. And there'd be drinks there! Perhaps we should rethink our strategies.
   
   
2. I am continually ashamed about my dietary habits. Why do I eat massive quantities of absurd things? Tonight I have eaten likely a full half cup of shredded parmesan--one tiny handful after another out of the canister in succession. Mind you, I said shredded, not that powdery grated stuff, but still. I need help. A culinary intervention might be in order.
   
   
3. If you are a horrible person, then I am, too. If you weren't a hidden ball of rage who's given up gossiping for lent, I would suggest we get together to dissect all of this very soon.
   
   
4. I have a theory about my athletic ability (or lack thereof). I'm pretty sure my parents planned to have only two children; I think my younger sister was an unplanned surprise to some extent. As a result, they had only enough "stuff" to pass along two two kids. My older sister got half of the athletic ability available to all of us, and my younger sister and I had to split the meager amount that was left. I lucked out and got probably 65% of that remaining half, whereas my little sister was so shafted in this area that she can barely enter a room without running into the door frame. I could provide additional examples of this "not enough 'stuff' for three kids" theory, but it's really not important, and as a scientist, you're probably horrified that I'm even joking about something so ridiculous and medically improbable. I'll stop now.
   
   
5. I'm going to hope he had a thesaurus nearby when he wrote that. Also, WHY no capital letters? Dammit, why does everyone think they're e.e. cummings?

So that's my end-of-week, in email snippets. What's on your mind (or in your correspondence) lately?

Democrats and garlic and tequila (oh my)

So remember when I used to post a list of five things every single Friday, and those five things actually had some sort of unifying theme to them? Yeah, I remember that, too. This is not one of those unified sort of lists, by the way. Randomness is the only theme today.

1. With Edwards out of the race, it occurs to me that the dumbest man I have ever wasted two hours of my life with was actually right: the next president is going to be a woman or a black man! (Or, I sure hope is it, anyway.) I wonder if Mr. Nonfiction-Means-Not-True finally knows that particular black man's name by now. I sure hope so.
   
   
2. On a related note, can I just say how very happy I am to have nerdy and civic-minded friends who actually think watching the Democratic presidential candidate debate is a valid excuse for a get-together? I am tired and groggy and nursing a food and wine hangover today (Helpful tip: garlic in the pasta, garlic in the hummus, and garlic in the guacamole is a little too much garlic for one night, unless you really still want to taste garlic in your throat 14 hours and two teeth brushings later), but for once, the grogginess and hangover isn't due to staying out well past my bedtime at a noisy concert or crowded bar. No, it's from hanging out in my living room, striving to be an informed participant in the political process. Oh, and also from hours of post-debate chatting about books and gyms and boys (OK, mostly boys). But still! Nerdy friends! I love you guys.
   
   
3. Speaking of nerdery (Hey! Maybe there is a theme to this list after all!), I am very much looking forward to the Drunken Spelling Bee tomorrow night. I don't know that I'll actually be playing, as pre-registration was already full when I tried to sign up, but I'm preparing for the possible spell-off anyway. Also, nervous about what "dirty words" they might ask me to spell, I actually found myself looking up a few words that I haven't tried to locate in a dictionary since I was twelve years old. That four-syllable word that starts with "c" and ends with "gus"? I know how to spell it. I wasn't positive before, but I'm sure of it now. And the related one that starts with "f" and ends with "tio"? Yep; I've got that one covered, too. Because I'm extra awesome and professional, I even looked them up at work. And now I feel all dirty and wrong. (Hi, company IT manager! Have fun perusing my web use logs this week!)
   
   
4. Just as I was starting to remember to check my blood pressure (like my new geriatric doctor recommended) every time I go to Target, it appears Target has decided not to provide free blood pressure screening machines any longer. This means I may have to visit the potentially hot and helpful firefighters for this service after all. I'll keep you posted if I do so, of course.
   
   
5. And finally, although I may have slightly high blood pressure, my muscles are obviously still super-strong and healthy... Seeing as it has been colder than any other place on earth here lately (or so said a woman at my gym, who swears she heard it on the news), and seeing as I had some leftover limes in my kitchen that I felt the need to use, I decided a random sub-zero Wednesday was as good a night as any to pretend I was someplace tropical and mix up a margarita in my kitchen. On my first squeeze of the lime with my handy citrus squeezer, however, the handle snapped right off the cup and pinched my poor unprepared palm. Mind you, this was a metal handle fused with a metal cup. Clearly I don't know my own strength. (Shoddy workmanship could not possibly be a factor here.)

(Note: Right here is where I was going to insert a picture of the poor useless bits of broken metal as evidence of my alarming hand strength, but alas, I neglected to pull them off my camera and upload them to the Web. You'll just have to take my word for it on this.)

By the way, should you want to have a tropical margarita night yourself sometime (with or without the help of a metal citrus smasher), I have an excellent recipe for you. It is tasty and strong and sure to obliterate your unsuspecting friends, but if you're willing to take that risk, here's what you'll need:

• Lime juice (fresh-squeezed is best)


• Triple sec


• Tequila


• Margarita salt for the rim

Ratio those liquids thusly: one part lime juice, two parts triple sec, and three parts tequila. (Yes, three parts tequila. Do it!) Shake it all up in a cocktail shaker and pour in a salt-rimmed glass filled with ice. Enjoy while thinking of warm sand beaches, and don't drive anywhere for a good long while. (Safety first, safety always, my friends.)

Heavens to Betsy, has it been four days already?

Thank you all very much for your contributions to last week's interactive Friday Five. As it's now Tuesday, it's as good a time as any to post a roundup, don't you think? I asked for your favorite words or phrases that have long been forgotten in the lexicon--words we haven't heard since Jimmy Stewart uttered them in a talkie that our grandparents saw on their first date. In case you didn't have the patience to wade through the comments, here's what the lot of you came up with.

• Willy-nilly
• In the family way
• Setting up housekeeping
• Breaking bread
• Gay (as in happy, you fool, as in "we'll have a gay ol' time")
• I doth protest
• Wanna flap?
• The Middle West (where Fitzgerald knows we Minnesotans live)
• Woe is me
• Dumb dora
• The bee's knees
• Dagnabbit
• Heavens to Betsy
• Knickerbocker
• Pitching woo
• Hold your horses
• Chap
• Don't take any wooden nickels
• What a fat pig that William Howard Taft is (you're right, Aaron; that never gets old)
• Insolent
• Reticent
• Expectorate (and micturate)
• The depths of despair (thank you, Cookie, and Anne of Green Gables)
• Sot (so much better and more high-brow than "drunken fool")
• Egad
• Bee in her bonnet
• Lollygagger
  

Not to play favorites, of course, as you all had fine things to say, but I think I'm particularly fond of dagnabbit, ol' chap, the bee's knees, pitching woo, and lollygag. Oh, and "heavens to Betsy," which I'll admit I actually added myself. I'd also like to add "davenport" to the list, because you know what? Sometimes "sofa" or "couch" just doesn't suffice.

Also, I cannot believe that Erikka (at comment #33) was the first person to ask just what on earth this list had to do with a boy. The fact is there is a boy on an increasingly lame personals site who mentioned a penchant for obscure words and phrases that were last fashionable in the 1920s, and I thought perhaps I might impress him with just the right long-forgotten phrase. After researching the definition of "pitching woo," however, I didn't really have the nerve to use it as the subject of an email. Also, it turns out that this perfect-for-me-on-paper boy might actually be a bit of a tool. I mentioned that my shoes were sensible enough to be preferred by librarians the world over, but I never said I was a librarian. Still, he followed up with, "So you're an honest-to-goodness librarian? Public or research?" Um, NO. I am not a librarian. Never claimed to be, in fact. But since you're calling up all sorts of sexy librarian fantasies right now, there's really no winning you back from that, is there?

The fading optimist in me--the part of me that still wants to believe that psychic was right when she said 2008 would be my year--would like to think there's still some great story in the works here. Years from now, we'll be telling our "how we met" story to friends or grandchildren...

Me: I read his profile and then posted one of my own just so I could have a way to contact him.
Him: Oh, you did not. You were all over the Internet, weren't you?
Me: No. In fact, I was not. Not online really anywhere at the time.
Him: Except that blog of yours, which you did not tell me about for months.
Me: Oh. Right. Except for that, of course.
Him: And Friendster, which for some reason you still had a profile on, even though you eschewed MySpace and Facebook.
Me: Right. And that. I swear I almost never logged on.
Him: [eye roll]
Me: I didn't! Anyway, so, I added him to my "Hotlist," in the hopes that he would see my interest and step up.
Him: I was busy! I had work!
Me: Then why were you online?
Him: ...
Me: And I finally broke down and emailed him, with a cute little list of all the commonalities we had.
Him: It was cute. I'll give you that.
Me: But you still didn't take the bait. You thought I was a librarian. You didn't even READ my profile, did you?? Admit it. You had written me off.
Him: I hadn't met you yet! I had no idea of all your charms!

Um, yeah. And... scene. Clearly I've got a bit too much time on my hands. I'll keep you posted if any of this pans out, of course. At the moment, I'm pretty much feeling like my dating life is just an example of bad, bad karma of some sort. Strangely, though, I'm not sure if I'm creating the bad karma or paying for it. Time will tell, I guess.

I’m being whiny AND vague! Lucky you!

I know I'm supposed to be a mature grown-up and act like the alarmingly honest, direct person I've so often been told I am. Dating in the Internet age has made it entirely too easy to avoid uncomfortable conversations through a quick email rather than an awkward conversation, and I often justify going this route by claiming it's easier for both of us, not just for me. I'm aware that's often a cop-out, however, and I'm trying to be braver and more considerate. When someone sends an email himself, though, saying, "I can't tell for sure if you want to go out again; would you be interested or not?" then it's entirely OK for me to answer that honestly via an email reply rather than waiting for an in-person talk, right? Right? RIGHT? Sigh. Three dates back out there and already I just want to stay home by myself again for all eternity. Please, somebody tell me that when it's right, I will know it and I will stop with the irrationally heightened flight reflexes. Please tell me that that's how it works and not that there is something fundamentally wrong with me. Because at the moment, I'm in one of those spots where it definitely feels like the latter.

But enough with the vague and pointless navel-gazing. How about an interactive Friday Five? Do you have a favorite word or phrase that hasn't been in regular rotation in the lexicon since the early 20th Century? An obscure or forgotten phrase that it's time we rally to bring back? Let's make a list of five (or 55) of them, shall we? I should add that ironically, the reason I want to compile this list has to do with a boy. Guess I haven't given up again entirely quite yet.

Five reasons I know movies and television are embedded irreversibly in my brain

1. I first forced myself to remember which direction the sun rises and sets by singing in my head the lyrics to Movin' Right Along from The Muppet Movie. (Fozzie: "Hey, I've never seen the sun come up in the west!")
   
   
2. Every time I apply mascara, I remember Blossom talking about some of life's great mysteries... "like why women open their mouths when they put on mascara."
   
   
3. Whenever I use vanilla extract, I remember the Very Special Episode of Family Ties in which Tom Hanks played alcoholic Uncle Ned--so hard up for a drink that he downed a whole bottle of the stuff.
   
   
4. Nearly every day when I step out of the shower and the floor in my very old bathroom makes an ominous creaking, cracking sound, I think of Carol Seaver falling through the floor of her bedroom and into the living room because of a termite infestation and crying, "I am willing to get on a scale right now and prove this was not my fault!"
   
   
5. Whenever I see an oncoming car that should have its headlights on, I hear Julia Roberts, saying "Lights! Lights would be good here."
   

That's five, but honestly, I could keep right on going... When I pee for an unusually long time, I think of Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own, and how the women on his team counted the seconds he was in the bathroom, waiting to see if it was a new record. When I wash my hands, I think of Bill Nye explaining the science behind the lather: "Soap makes water wetter!" And whenever I walk past the unusually large, gaping street drain in a gutter near my office, I expect to see the demonic clown from IT peering out at me from beneath the concrete.

That last image in particular is one I wish I could shake from the movie screen in my mind. My sincerest apologies for reminding you of the horror that was Pennywise as well. (Seriously, I am warning you. Don't click that last link. Aagh!)

Please, please tell me I'm not the only one whose brain works this way.