I don't have many Christmas traditions but every year, I insist on watching The Wizard of Oz before December 25. I've noticed a pattern in which I have a much better holiday the years I watch the movie than years I don't.
So, last night while watching TV, Dan and I had the following conversation:
Dan: We better watch The Wizard of Oz before we leave for Florida. Jaime: Why? It'll be on TNT like, eighty times before Christmas. Dan: Yeah, but I'm not risking a plane crash because we didn't watch your Christmas movie.
The fact that I'm utterly unhinged has finally infected my poor fiance.
Everyone together now -- "I could while away the hours/Conferring with the flowers/Consulting with the raaainnn...."
- Like I'd probably marry the man who showed up with a hot buttered multigrain bagel (sorry, babe). Or a veggie fajita salad from Chipotle. That would be pretty great too.
- Like Fatty McButterpants.
- Like I need to own more cocktail rings. Preferably, one of those kickass plastic rose rings in a pretty shade of pink or yellow. Of course, I'm completely ignoring fact that they would probably look totally stupid on my child-sized hands.
- That I want to travel more. I've got these travel guides on my Google Docs -- a list of cities I want to visit and all the things I want to do when I get there. Frommers, they are not. My top three things to do in Austin, Texas -- visit the Stevie Ray Vaughan statue at Lady Bird Lake, visit Antone's nightclub and eat at Juan in a Million. Huevos rancheros, margaritas and mmmmmmigas!
- Like I need to reiterate the Fatty McButterpants thing.
- Like the U.S. is going to get their asses handed to them when they play England in the World Cup.
- That Tish and Billy Ray Cyrus are negligent halfwits for allowing their 17-year-old to get a tattoo under her breast.
Thankfully, all parties involved are fine, but hearing your car crinkle like tin foil at 8:00 a.m.? There are better ways to start the morning.
It happened really quickly and the only thing I remember is thinking, "Oh my God. We're not stopping."
Damn you, forward momentum.
Thinking about it messes me up a little because I'm a big fan of playing the What-If game. The game in which you torment yourself by asking what if -- what if we hasn't been wearing our seatbelts and had flown through the windshield? What if the airbag had deployed and injured us? What if we'd been going faster? What if Dan was seriously hurt? What if it was worse?
That last one messes me up the most. That's the one that brews a tempest in my stomach, causes my heart to clench and stings my eyes with salty tears.
We were lucky. Nothing happened that can't be fixed. But the security of that knowledge doesn't stop me from playing the game.
I'm trying to laugh to keep from crying, though. For example -- this morning, Dan and I were dropped off to work in a police car and the entire ride to the office, people kept ogling us, wondering what two young professionals had done so early in the morning as to be stuck in the back of a cruiser. It was pretty amusing. Also, police cars? Not nearly as comfortable as I expected. Instead of cushioned seat, it's hard plastic that you slide around on whenever you make a turn. I imagine it's probably the least fun ever if you're drunk.
Here's to hoping your day was better than ours and that ours gets a little better.
Welcome to Running Commentary Wednesday. Here's the lowdown -- I am totally barefaced as I woke up late this morning and didn't have time to do my make-up, it's not even 9:00 and I've already launched into a Diet Dr. Pepper and I've got (Christmas) Baby Please Come Home stuck in my head.
8:03: Not stopping for coffee was a terrible mistake. Also a terrible mistake -- waking up late and realizing you have no defrosty windshield wiper fluid.
8:41: So, I've been thinking more and more about getting a tattoo. This is usually the sort of reckless decision made in your early twenties after one too many Jagerbombs, but I think it's time to put my crippling fear of needles aside and get some ink. The only idea I've go so far is a tattoo on my right wrist that reads 'Writer' but I've got two issues with that:
A) Holy pretension, Batman! Seriously -- what kind of douchebag has 'writer' tattooed on their body? There are only two ways I could justify this: 1) If I publish a piece of literature that outsells the combined total of the Bible, Harry Potter, Twilight and every John Grisham novel ever published. 2) If I somehow manage to become Ernest Hemingway. Papa was a bad-ass who could get away with something like this. B) A tattoo on the wrist sounds particularly painful. More so than mostly anywhere else on one's body. Also, a wrist tattoo would probably be harder to cover up in a professional setting. But on the plus side, the skin on my wrists will probably never change.
Any suggestions/recommendations? Do you have tattoos yourself? How did you decide what to get? Do you regret the decision now?
9:08: In less temporary body modification news, I'm finally getting my hair done this weekend. I really want this (partially because I have a total crush on Rashida Jones. I mean, she's smart, funny, talented, gorgeous and she dated John Krasinski. What's not to like?)
but get the feeling I won't be able to pull it off, so instead -- caramel brown with honey-colored highlights. Hopefully, it'll look as delicious as it sounds.
9:20: So, there's been some controversy about Kate Moss', "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels," comment. To which, I respond, "Bitch, have you ever tried stuffing?" To which Imaginary Kate Moss Who Lives In My Head responds, "No, but I can you have..." and proceeds to poke my hips with a withered, bony finger. IKMWLIMH is kind of a bitch and I am in serious need of coffee and a nap because I've obviously lost my mind.
11:32: Does anyone else think that Jaimee Grubbs (Tiger Woods' alleged mistress) looks like a third-rate Shakira impersonator?
11:38: Dan and I made an executive decision not to put up a Christmas tree this year (as neither of us will really be around for the holidays) and I think that, coupled with the fact that we did all of our Christmas shopping online and that I've yet to indulge in a delicious red cup beverage, are affecting my sense of holiday spirit. Hopefully, it'll come rushing in full force when we hit up the Magic Kingdom later this month. If Disney can't get you feeling holly-jolly, you might very well be dead inside.
12:35: Dear Baby might just be the sweetest blog I've ever read. It's the weirdest thing -- every time I read an entry, I hear this really faint ticking noise. Hmmm....strange, that.
12:36: Calm down, Mom. Dan and I are still a little ways away from that adventure.
3:09: Why is it that the people you'd least like to see nude are the first ones to strip down to their skivvies? I just saw pictures of the Phildelphia Naked Bike Ride and I'm kind of amazed. Firstly because my puritanical sensibilities would never allow me to do such a thing --having your lumpy bits out on display for the entire city to ogle/judge? Mortifying. Utterly mortifying. And secondly, I'm amazed by the sheer number of people who are willing to rock out with their cock out/jam out with their clam out in 40 degree weather. Didn't these men watch Seinfeld? Are they unaware of shrinkage?
I'm carefully peeling back the laminate and updating the list. Looking over it, I've realized three things:
A) I dig older men. 80% of my list is comprised of men within two years of 40. Since I'm almost 27, I'm OK with that. It would be way creepier if my list was comprised of dudes like Taylor Lautner and Justin Bieber (who is that kid, anyway?)
B) I dig actors. 80% of my list is comprised of men who earn their ducats pretending to be someone else.
C) I dig men named David...or a variant of.
So, without further ado, here for your pleasure (but mostly mine) is the updated Laminated List.
Name: David Boreanaz Age: 40 Occupation: Actor
I'm not a vampire fetishist. The sight of blood revolts me, I'm a big morning person, think everyone looks better with a tan and being a vegetarian, that whole carnivorous diet thing? Yeah, that ain't working. But, if I had to pick a vampire to lust after, it would be David Boreanaz's Angel. He's got a soul, he's been known to crack a funny ever now and then, he's got the sartorial taste of a gay man, he can wear a suit like no other and he could kick Sparkles' ass from here to Transylvania, no problem. Also, dude's got a killer smile. I've always been a sucker for that.
Name: Dave Grohl Age: 40 Occupation: Musician
I'm kind of conflicted on this one. Part of me wants to be his BFF -- hang out, drink beer, eat really good pizza, talk about music...and then, he starts playing music and I get the inexplicable urge to fling my boyshorts at him. Hmmm...funny, that.
Name: Sam Trammell Age: 38 Occupation: Actor
Hello new addition! Sam Trammell plays shapeshifter Sam Merlotte on True Blood and since the first episode, I've wanted to grab him, throw him down on the bar and recreate scenes from several R-rated movies. It's the hair -- sandy, salt and peppery -- and the mouth. It inspires all sorts of lascivious thoughts. Also inspiring lascivious thoughts? His butt. Not gonna lie -- it's pretty rockin'. Also rockin'? The fact that he attended both Brown and the University of Paris. Smart = sexy and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Name: John Krasinski Age: 29 Occupation: Actor
I totally agree with Andrea -- John is the kind of guy who would get up in the middle of the night to get you a glass of water. He's handsome, he's sweet and he's uproariously funny (case in point). Emily Blunt is a lucky girl (and you know what? So am I because Dan always gets me water, he's gorgeous, sweet and makes me laugh so hard, I cry).
Name: Ron Livingston Age: 42 Occupation: Actor
And topping the list again is Ron Livingston. The mere mention of his name turns me into a blushing, utterly inarticulate slip of a girl who can do little more than grin like an idiot, play with her hair and make indecipherable noises. I essentially revert back to a seventh grader with a crush. So, what is it about Ron Livingston that lights my fire? Basically, he seems like a really decent guy. He's been in two of my favorite movies of all time (Swingers and Office Space), I like his laugh and I really like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Silly, really but when have crushes (especially crushes on celebrities that you will thankfully never meet) been anything but?
And on the flip side -- a list of men who I'm attracted to for reasons that no-one can even begin to fathom but I'm going to valiantly try and explain them anyway. I.E. -- A List of Men I Wish Tiger Beat Would Make Pin-Ups For, But Obviously Won't Because They're Not Conventionally Dreamy.
Again, note the trend of older men. Not one under the age of 40! When did I start finding salt-and-pepper hair sexy? Hmmm.....
Name: Jeff Garlin Age: 47 Occupation: Actor
Yes, that Jeff Garlin. The one continually being abused by Susie Essman on Curb Your Enthusiasm as the "fat fuck." I know, I know! You're thinking, "Dude, what the fuck? Seriously?" but hear me out. Garlin has a great voice (loved him in Wall-E), he's funny, he seems quite sweet and at the end of the day, all he wants is someone to eat cheese with. I could totally be that someone.
Name: Dana Gould Age: 45 Occupation: Writer/Comedian
The first time I really noticed Dana Gould was on an episode of Real Time With Bill Maher. The conversation between Dan and I went something like this:
Jaime: Wait, that's Dana Gould? Dan: Yeah. Jaime: The writer from The Simpsons? That Dana Gould? Dan: Yeah. Jaime: Wow....He's kinda hot. Dan: Wait, what?
And he is. He's good-looking, funny and smart (Simpsons writers are usually eggheads and Gould's got a quick political wit, which is totally sexy) -- hitting the trifecta of traits I look for in a crush.
Name: Bill Simmons Age: 40 Occupation: Writer/Columnist for ESPN
Simmons, also known as Sports Guy, is a Pats fan. This puts him just above serial killers who wear clown make-up. BUT, Bill's the exception to the rule. The man can write. And the man can spout pop culture trivia. And the man invented both the Unintentional Comedy and Vengeance Scales. And the man's starting to go a little gray which, let's be honest, looks really, really good on him.
Name: Bradley Whitford Age: 50 Occupation: Actor
So, it wasn't so much Bradley Whitford as it was Danny Tripp from Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. The guy was smart, passionate, slightly tragic and witty. Oh and the way he wore his glasses atop his head? Remarkably sexy. I have no doubt that West-Wing-A-Thon 2009 (my sister and I are planning on spending Christmas doing nothing but eating and watching The West Wing) and Whitford's portrayal as Josh Lyman will do nothing but further my crush.
1. Creative writing. The piece I'm writing is silly, peppered with profanity and will probably never see the light of day. But it's mine and I love it.
2. Skype. Not only does it allow me to actually see my parents when I speak to them, but it also enables me to stay in touch with my best friend in London. We had an hour-long discussion the other night that touched on politics, weddings, the hypersexualization of children, racism and how cute our respective significant others are. It was fantastic and I can't wait to do it again.
3. The prospect of getting together with my best friends in December and drinking gin gimlets.
4. The prospect of getting together with my sister in December and just hanging out.
5. Library book sales! They happen twice a year and because I'm a nerd of epic proportions, I look forward to them a little more than I look forward to both my birthday and Christmas. Dan and I picked up 43 books for $25. So cool.
6. Roasted carrots and rutabaga. This has become my favorite new dinnertime side. Chop up the veggies, toss with a little olive oil, salt and pepper and bake for 30 minutes at 350. I'm amazed by how something this delicious could be so easy.
7. Gap Individuals: The Artist. It smells clean yet woodsy and it's long-lasting. I love catching random whiffs of it throughout the day. It makes me smile.
8. Wawa coffee runs on cold weekend mornings. Yes, my toes freeze into little caramel icicles and the sensation of freezing rain running down my neck is horrible, but the first sip of vanilla coffee makes it all worthwhile.