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|Monday, December 12th, 2016|
Have you ever stumbled across something that wasn't meant for your eyes, and read it anyhow, even though every word felt like the end of your heart?
|Friday, March 1st, 2013|
|Thursday, February 28th, 2013|
|Two in a row!
I feel like I should make some sort of effort to write somewhere. I HAVE been doing sporadic record reviews on my friend's site, which are just as cranky and anti-new music as you might expect. I every once in a while consider reviving bobofett, but honestly, I don't remember how any of that process goes and now it's like a million years later, and I just lack the give a shit to torment the entirely different internet with my nonsense.
In other news, everything is pretty much the same as before. House is great, Nick is great, Brodie is Brodie. Job plods along. I'm on vacation week after next for my yearly love-in with my ladies. Winter is almost over (the impending crocuses say so!) and I'm assuming that the snow from the early month go fuck yourself blizzard will melt.
I posted this very serious query on facebook, and I'll ask it here: Why can't Justin Beiber (Bieber? Too lazy to google), with ALL his money, buy himself a hat that fits his tiny little infant head?
|Wednesday, February 27th, 2013|
I straight up forgot about writing here. Or anywhere, for that matter. Long time no talk to. What's new with all of you?
|Friday, September 10th, 2010|
It's nearly impossible for me to believe that it's been a year, to the day, that my grandmother died. This week has been poingnant with remembering. The call we got that night from my mother, rushing to the hospital, the three sleepless days and nights. Watching her slip from lucid to gone, as the brain bleed progressed. Sitting around her bed with my cousins as she took her last breath.
Her wake, I remember feeling like I was under water. How was it possible that someone who was so massively important in my life didn't require crowd control? Why were there not lines of people out the door? Why did it hurt more when someone pointed out how much I'd miss her or how sorry they were?
In any event, yes--it does get easier, it does hurt less, but not an hour, or even a few minutes pass where I don't miss her. When I'm not wishing I could pick up the phone and call. There's never a time I'm at a casino where I don't forget, even for a few seconds, that I'm not there with her. The very last time I saw her was the day before the stroke, and the last thing we said to eachother then was the same as after the stroke: I love you with all my heart.9-10-09
Our grandmother was a woman of many convictions. She believed firmly in the doctrine and message of the Roman Catholic church, the unbreakable bond of family, the designated hitter and the beauty of the slot machine bonus round.
She lead her family by example, lived her life based on the teachings of the bible, thrilled in our accomplishments and liked nothing more than to argue politics and read the stock pages.
Born in Pennsylvania, she lived with her beloved grandparents in Connecticut. She moved to New York, where she met our Grandfather, Angelo. From what she's told us, it was love at first sight for him. She required convincing.
Finally, they married, had two daughters and raised them, owning almost nothing but posessing an abundance of love and grace and taught them to be strong, independent women.
Our Grandparents moved to Connecticut in 2000, and enjoyed several happy years in West Haven, walking along the water, putting in lottery tickets, and most importantly: loving each other.
She was not a typical grandmother. She didn’t own an apron and never once baked us a pie. She was not the person you'd go to for placating, idle conversation but she WAS the first person we all thought to call with a difficult decision or a problem that needed sorting out. She would tell you the truth, whether you were prepared to hear it or not.
She kept our secrets, was a loving mother, a dear friend, and most of all, a truly unique woman who made us all better people.
We are luckier for having had her in our lives, and we will miss her forever.
|Friday, August 20th, 2010|
Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth
it's no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners
the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn't need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water
I wouldn't want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days
|Friday, April 30th, 2010|
It's funny, I go from being very calm and gathered about my grandmother dying to being not at all gathered. It's stupid little things that set me off, like yesterday, when I realized that Saturday is the Kentucky Derby. Because she's not around, I had no idea! For the first time in my life, I didn't know.
My favorite memory of my grandmother and the Derby was a few years back. We'd gone off to Foxwoods, put our bets in early (she'd always hand me the page from the Daily News and a pen. I chose horses based on names and long shots. "It's a good a system as any!" she'd reply) and spent the day playing penny slots. When it came close to race time, we shuffled into the absolutely crammed to the gills racebook room. The race-starting trumpet played (you know what I mean, please don't make me write it out in "dun-dun-dun DUNDUNDUNDUN DUNDUNDUNDUN dun dun dut dunnnnnnnnnnn" [oh, wait--I did!]) and she started SCREAMING along with the other three thousand people watching the screen.
Neither of us won (long shots, traditionally, don't win the Derby), but it was a nice day and remembering it and being fully aware that she's not around is always surprising.
|Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010|
|Let's say, the question for you edition.
You were able to go back in time, to any time you wanted in your life, for a week. What time would that be? What were you doing? Who were you with? Most importantly: you have the choice to go to that time with all of your current memories, or go back as though you'd never lived it before and it was all brand new. Would you go with 2010 awareness, or just do it again?
This photo was taken on our front porch. After my parent's marriage unraveled dramatically, my grandparents bought a house in Sheepshead Bay for my mom and I to live with them. That's where we were until I was in the 3rd grade. This photo was taken on a day my grandparents were headed to Las Vegas, which I remember vividly because my grandmother was so glamorous and Ang's pants were filled with rolls of quarters. They'd always fly into and out of Kennedy and that's when you were still allowed to see people to, and wait for people at the gate. I was always SO EXCITED to see them walking off the plane and Ang would always give me silver dollars when he hugged me.
|Tuesday, February 16th, 2010|
1.) This morning, as I stopped to get coffee I noticed that a smallish black bird was trapped inside an empty storefront. It was panicked. I sat in my car for a few minutes trying to figure out a way to get it out. Why can't they ever get out the way they go in? I thought about that poor bird on and off all day and it made me terribly sad.
2.) I just made the 65th payment on my car. I have one to go. Of course, this leaves me convinced that every car on the road is aiming for me and my 287 dollars away from paid off auto. Every snowstorm is mother nature's way of trying to push me into a ditch. Usually, I am rageful when people tailgate me on the highway, now I am beyond.
3.) When I got home from work and the supermarket this evening, I had some trouble getting up the driveway, since it had been snowing for the better part of this afternoon. Nick ran down to quick-shovel the slopey part so I'd be able to make it. I pulled up and parked and Nick said "You drove over your message!" He'd written I Love You in the snow, and I ran it over so it was hidden. See #1
. It made me feel sad (because I'd missed it)
|Saturday, February 13th, 2010|
|A sort of celebrity sighting from the vaults of Dana
So once, about a million years ago, I was at Planned Parenthood in Manhattan with my then- best friend who'd gotten accidentally pregnant. Someone had to sit and wait for/with her during the whole abortion proceeding, and I was that someone. As I sat there (smugly) aware that I had my period, an elegant looking, youngish middle aged woman swept in with a surly looking, extremely well dressed girl, about my age, in tow. She checked in, not quietly, and sat in the waiting room, glaring silently out at nothing.
Long story short, the celebrity dragging her daughter in for an abortion? Diane Von Fürstenberg. The daughter, I believe, is an honest to god princess. You'd think that with all the money they have, she would have sprung for a private OBGYN office rather than the Planned Parenthood, where they search your bag for a bomb before they let you into the building.
The only reason I even remembered this nugget of unimportant past stupidity from my life that I'll unfortunately have FOREVER, thus preventing me from learning anything new was because I saw a photo of Diane VF reeling down some runway, looking pretty much like a crumpled paper bag.
|Wednesday, February 10th, 2010|
|A question for the ages.
What makes you happy? And it doesn't have to be some big thing, it can be as simple as a piece of cake or the smell of a Christmas tree.
|Tuesday, February 9th, 2010|
|Sunday, February 7th, 2010|
I'd posted this over on Facebook, but it mysteriously disappeared.
Last night, at the casino, someone had SEYMORE BUTTS paged. Twice.
"Seymore Butts...please meet your party at the lost guest booth. SEYMORE BUTTS, please meet your party at the lost guest booth!"
I laughed and laughed.
|Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010|
|Here is a riddle.
What smells worse than two used tampons?
Answer: Two used tampons your dog has eaten and then thrown up onto your bed!
|Friday, January 29th, 2010|
I am wearing a ratty sweater with holes all over it. Am I devil may care or a slob? YOU TELL ME.
|Tuesday, January 26th, 2010|
|So I was thinking
Any time I'd ever spent a night at a hotel with my grandmother (which happened often, mostly in Atlantic City), she ALWAYS talked in her sleep. Not in any human language, though. The closest example I can give is that she sounded like a Sim, and in the dreams she was constantly cracking up.
"Fwad!?! Blartng! Margaahh! Spartinso! Blooaorr????? BLOOARRROOOO????? HAAAHAAAAAA!!"
I miss her!
|Saturday, January 23rd, 2010|
Okay, on what planet should a silver chain cost 55 dollars? Who is the person buying all of the flavored K Cups!?!? Why can't I ever remember where the turn off for Leetes Island Road is?!?! WHY ISN'T IT WARMER OUT? Will I have to work today?? Why do ramen noodles have so many calories?!
Can't end soon enough for me.
Today, I think I'm going to go to Target (I'm looking for a silver chain) and I have a sneaky suspicion that I'll end up at work. Because of this
. Due Monday, but it won't happen.
I'll report back later.
|Friday, January 22nd, 2010|
|A dental mystery
So remember when we were kids (if you're circa Dana aged), we all went to the dentist once a year? Everything was done during that one visit. For about the past 8 years or so, it became imperative that we go TWICE a year. Fine. Women can't get mammograms because of
they aren't necessary for women under 50, but the dentist twice a year isn't a problem. Fair enough! In this modern day and age, toothbrushes exist that alert you when you've hit the 2 minute mark (which I guess is the accepted amount of brushing time required). We floss daily (I do, at least), and mouthwash and blah blah blah, and ON AND ON AND ON.
Here's the mystery: with all of this new fangled shit, WHY DOES IT STILL TAKE THE SAME AMOUNT O
F TIME TO HAVE YOUR TEETH CLEANED? I mean, wouldn't it stand to reason that it would take half as much time--PERHAPS EVEN LESS--since we're flossing and brushing for 20 minutes a day? Since it does not take half the time, why are we going to the dentist twice a year?
PONDER AND GET BACK TO ME.
|Thursday, January 21st, 2010|
I bought these jeans. They're Levis called "leggings", and they're super skinny. Being a fatty, I can't help but feel like I'm a pitiful groupie for some Indie band when I wear them and so the best I can hope for is that I'll feel less loserish when I get to pair them with ballet flats. Not really holding my breath. Skinny jeans. PEH.