Red red whine*

When I returned from the movie in Loring Park last night, the thermostat in my house read 88; the faulty breathalyzer read .05, and the clock read close to midnight. Anyone wanna take a guess at how I feel today?

On top of that, the movie was entirely uninteresting, and my handy camp seat was temporarily stolen by a cognitively challenged woman who had earlier been rooting around freely in her nostrils and absentmindedly playing with her spit. To make that last part even better, in my wine-fueled annoyance, I actually thought it was a logical idea to reason with the woman. She clearly had no inkling that she'd done anything wrong, and yet I apparently felt the need to look at her sternly and ask, "Why did you take that?" Considering the way my friends often like to distort this sort of thing for amusement in later retellings, I imagine that simple question will eventually be distilled down to "Stefanie yells at the mentally handicapped," much the same way an incident in a hotel hot tub years ago is now retold as "Stefanie swears in front of small children" and the way our friend Greg's simple complaint to a restaurant server has long been relayed as "Greg once beat up a Denny's waitress." Ah, good times.

Anyway, all circumstances and after-effects aside, it was still a fine summer evening in the city. There was good conversation with friends, a lovely cheese-heavy picnic spread, and wine (oh my yes, so much wine). Still, foggy-headed and crabby is no way to start the week. I may need to take another hobo nap on my lunch break.

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* A shout-out to my dear friend GG on that stolen title, of course. I'm at a loss for anything more appropriate right now.

Five things I have NOT done this week

1. Read the new Harry Potter book. Did you hear that the last book recently came out? It's possible you might have actually missed that news. Frankly I'm a little surprised I haven't heard more about it myself. I mean, hasn't anybody on the Internet been talking about this? Oh wait. It seems approximately 10 million people have. Go read about it from one of them, because aside from this one brief mention, Stefanie Says is still a Potter-free zone. I really have nothing against the books, by the way; I just don't give a damn.
   
   
2. Gone to BlogHer. My first thought, upon learning this year's conference would be in Chicago, was, "Hey! It's happening only a six-hour drive from my house? Maybe I should go!" Sure, I'm not any sort of big-time blogger, and I actually hate conferencey things by nature, but by all accounts, BlogHer is a fun and wonderful time. They even have drinks, I hear! We never get drinks at the conferences I attend for work! Perhaps that could make all the difference. You know what, though? Getting somewhere six hours from home still requires about $100 worth of gas or a $100 plane ticket. And when I get there, I would have to pay for parking or cab fare, not to mention a likely rather expensive downtown hotel room for three nights. Add in the cost of the conference itself and whatever incidentals are not included in that conference cost, and suddenly a quick weekend getaway not too far from home was looking set to ring in at around $700. That is entirely too much money to spend and barely leave the state, I say. Besides, I think Noelle is on to something. She prefers to meet bloggers over tiki drinks, one by one. Who's coming to Psycho Suzi's with me next?
   
   
3. Seen I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry, despite the fact that some three million of my fellow Americans did. I remember the first time I saw a preview for this reportedly awful film. I was in a theater with my friend Lisa, waiting for Waitress to start, and when we'd seen enough of the preview to grasp the premise, we both looked at each other slack-jawed and horrified, hoping beyond hope that a ringtone would suddenly break in on the sound track, revealing that it was not a real and actual movie set to play in theaters soon but instead one of those fake previews designed to cleverly remind you to mute all electronic devices. Seriously. Do the meatheads of America really need any help making gay jokes? Do we really need Adam Sandler and Jessica Biel sanctioning inane stereotypes? I wasn't going to write anything about this, because it's entirely possible I'm being closed-minded and the film is actually a light-hearted and sensitive approach to a timely topic, but still. Number 1 movie in America?? Really??
   
   
4. Cleaned out my bathroom drain with the intriguing little Zip-it tool I recently bought precisely for this purpose. Apparently I would rather stand in three inches of water every day as I shower than spend the presumably brief number of minutes involved in trying out this simple and chemical-free little gadget. Perhaps I will do that tonight yet. Staying in alone on a Friday night isn't quite exciting enough, after all. It's best to do something practical and yet disgusting while I'm home as well.
   
   
5. Bought a jean jacket, despite all my repeated best efforts to do so. What the fuck, Macy's, Gap, and every other store in Rosedale Center?? Everybody in the world has a jean jacket except me; where on earth did they all get them?? Tell me!!
   
   

One thing I will be doing this weekend, however, to prove that I'm not above unanimity all of the time, is see The Simpsons Movie tomorrow. And since this is sort of an "everybody's doing it" post, I thought I would be the last person on the Internet to create one of these as well. So here it is: a Simpsons-ized me! Nerd-tastic, wouldn't you agree?

Obviously this sort of thing is contagious

Most of the people in that "real life and in-person" category of friendship don't make themselves known in the comments here very often. They read (or, some of them do), but they rarely mention they've been reading, so it's only when I start telling some little story about the ridiculous or amusing thing that happened to me recently and they stop me with, "Yeah, I read that on your blog" that I'm at all aware they've stopped by. (Yes, I do have a Sitemeter account and of course I periodically examine my stats, but despite apparently popular belief, I have no idea which St. Paul-based Comcast visits are actual friends of mine and which are people popping in via -R- or WhiskeyMarie.)

Sometimes, however, I get e-mails from friends that let me know they're still here. For example, the other day a good friend of mine forwarded a message that a co-worker of hers sent to their company at large. Apparently it reminded her of something I was appalled by a couple weeks ago myself...

------------------------------------------------
From: [Friend's co-worker]
To: [Entire company]
Subject: It won't happen again
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I just wanted to apologize to anyone I may have upset yesterday by wearing my socks-and-sandals combo. I understand the error of my ways, and it won't happen again.

Sincerely,
[Friend's co-worker]
[Title, Company]
[Address]
[Phone and Fax numbers]

The friend who forwarded me that message wondered which was the greater offense: wearing socks with sandals in the first place, or sending out a company-wide e-mail apologizing for it. I actually think it's the former. The latter proves a redeeming sense of humor and humbling nature, after all, so I must give him credit for that.

I'd also like to note that the offending co-worker at my own office wore his white socks with leather sandals again yesterday and offered nothing by way of an apology (or good humor) for it. Since scientific law commands that every dorky action result in an equally dorky reaction, however, I've continued to prove myself a winner lately as well. Case in point? Twice (twice!) in the past week, I have stepped into the shower with my glasses still on.

Stones and glass houses indeed.

The correct answer to #5 is "Teen Spirit"

Many years ago, when I still subscribed to misogynist drivel useful and culturally relevant literature such as Glamour, I remember reading an interview article featuring Gwyneth Paltrow. In the interview, she mentioned that her friends had begun teasing her about her sudden climb to fame. "I only do art films," she apparently insisted, to which they replied, "No way; you're totally a cheesy movie star."

Art films. The woman said she does only art films. Clearly this was before she signed on for View from the Top and Shallow Hal.

I'd have to say it's an unlikely and rare occasion for me to be drawing any comparisons between Gwyneth Paltrow and myself. I mean, sure, I suppose there's a possibility that I'll someday sustain a bothersome head injury and thereafter start speaking in a fake British accent and naming my children Blueberry and Potato, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's a long shot at best.

I am, however, a big ol' hypocrite just like Ms. Paltrow, apparently. When I started this blog, I was somewhat against the "list-about-me" memes. Then I decided to pick and choose which ones I was against and which ones seemed fun or worth doing. Now I'm not just posting a meme, but asking YOU GUYS to fill it out! My word; I know it is summer, but WHERE will the lazy blogging end??

Ahem. With that compelling introduction in place, allow me to tell you about the fun game Sognatrice is playing over at Bleeding Espresso right now. There's a list of twenty questions, or actually, twenty fill-in-the-blank type statements, but rather than Sognatrice completing each one with her answer, she's put it out to commenters instead. This really isn't the cop-out that it might seem to be; aren't you just as curious as I am how well people know you or don't?

So then. If you'd like to play along, copy and paste this list (or whatever portion of it strikes you) into the comments, completing each sentence with the "true" answers if you know them or amusing and absurd ones if you don't. And then go do the same thing on your own blog (if you want, of course) so we can all be lazy summertime bloggers together. Whee! Doesn't that sound like fun? I thought so. Here we go.

Stefanie is.....
Stefanie needs.....
Stefanie's best friend is.....
Stefanie's dog is named.....*
Stefanie smells like.....
Stefanie drives like.....
Stefanie craves......
Stefanie's favorite TV show is.....
Stefanie hates the actor whose name is.....
Stefanie's alcoholic drink of choice is.....
Stefanie's NON alcoholic drink of choice is.....
Stefanie's favorite musical artist is.....
Stefanie's favorite cupcake flavor is.....
Stefanie's hair is.....
Stefanie's celebrity crush is.....
Stefanie's occupation is.....
Stefanie's favorite book is.....
Stefanie's favorite color is.....
Stefanie hates.....
Stefanie wishes.....


Thanks in advance for humoring me (I hope... I could very well be met by crickets on this one, I know). Also, if it's not too much to ask, please make me smile rather than laugh. I promise that none of you are on my nemesis list, so don't be a hater, OK?

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* This is a trick question, of course, but I decided to leave it anyway, rather than replace it with something more appropriate (you know, like "Stefanie's imaginary boyfriend is named..." or "Stefanie likes wine better than..."). So do with this one whatever you like.

I sort of wish the plural of "nemesis" were "nemesi"

Having a nemesis seems to be all the rage this year. -R- has one. Crazy Aunt Purl has one. And recently I learned that Jessica of the Fug Girls has one. I can be as surly as the next person (surlier, actually, depending on the day). I really ought to have a nemesis, don't you think? It might actually be good for me. I could channel all the aggravation that builds up in any given day towards my nemesis, compartmentalizing my annoyance in one spot and therefore freeing the rest of my mind up for a sunnier disposition. (What? It could happen...)

How does one choose a nemesis, however? I suspect that if I have to ask the question, I likely haven't found one yet. That or I just have too many to choose from. That's probably it, actually. So I'll have to think on this a bit longer. Meanwhile, though, here are five ongoing contenders for the position.

1. The guy who I don't think even lives on my block and yet insists on parking his rusty and ginormous red truck directly in front of my house and then leaving it there for nine days or more in a row. I do not even typically park on the street; I park in my garage out back, and yet, this annoys me no end.
   
   
2. The Taco Bell executive who decided that all drive-thru workers had to start greeting me with a meaningless and awkward "How are you?" instead of proceeding directly to the standard "Welcome to Taco Bell; may I take your order?" That kid with the headset really doesn't care how I am, and I'd rather not waste my time with an equally pointless "Fine thanks; how are you?" in reply. Let me just order my damn seven-layer burrito with nachos and move on, OK?
   
   
3. The lady at my gym with the 100 rowdy and obnoxious children whom she insists on bringing into the locker room with her rather than dropping directly into the nursery. OK, in actuality, the number of children under her care is closer to three, but given how loud and annoying they are, it seems much higher than that. When they are not chattering at full volume or running around getting underfoot, they are standing and staring slack-jawed at me as I change, which frankly is every bit as unsettling. Furthermore, each week during kickboxing class, this woman insists on drifting out of position and getting all up in my jab-space, and one of these days I am going to lose the ongoing battle with my patience and decorum and send one of my left kicks directly to her skull. (No, I am not a Rockettes-worthy high kicker with tremendous strength and flexibility, but this woman is rather tiny. I could totally reach her head with my foot if I tried.)
   
   
4. People who use supposedly cute shortened forms of words that really don't need to be shortened at all. Sammies instead of sandwiches. 'Zah instead of pizza. 'Sconnie instead of Wisconsin.* I'd even prefer we all forget the word hubby and just say husband instead, but I realize I'm very likely in the minority on that, so I suppose I can let that one slide.
   
   * This one is particularly loathsome to me, especially when used by Wisconsinites themselves. Strangely, I am significantly less averse to the more unique "Wiscoe" abbreviation I heard recently, but I'd still like to keep using all the syllables.
   
   
5. The unnecessarily chipper and gregarious man at my office who insists on singing a ridiculous birthday song from a 1950s-era children's show whenever we gather for cake in the conference room. His overenthusiastic rendition comes complete with accompanying sweeping hand gestures and a dramatic falsetto in the finish. This same man also annoys me daily with outbursts like, "There she is!" upon passing me in the hall (not when he's been looking for me, mind you, and a "there she is" would make sense; he apparently just likes to announce his presence in some way). I must note that he is actually a perfectly nice man and so I feel a bit guilty proposing him as a potential nemesis, and yet, I can't help myself anyway.
   

The more I think about this, the more I realize I may need more than five slots, actually. After all, I haven't even mentioned the morning show DJs who ignite my ire, nor the neighbor who seems to think the entire alley is his personal dumping ground. I'd better stop now, though, I think. So tell me, who's your nemesis these days?

Reason #47 that it's best I live alone

Because there was no one around to hear me (and thereafter to mock me mercilessly) when I let out a sudden string of high-pitched squeals (while simultaneously and dramatically hopping around quickly out of the way) after stepping on what I thought was a tremendous bug scurrying around my laundry room floor but which actually turned out to be a black rubber washer I'd accidentally sent spinning with my foot.

I think I ought to steal Abbersnail's "Why I rock" label for this one. Sometimes "Nerdery" just doesn't suffice.