The greatest hits of the 60s, 70s and 1987 Monday, Apr 7 2008 

I thought it was a fluke the first time it happened.

It was a few years ago.  It was brief.  I hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

Until today.

I was listening to Oldies 103.3 when coming home from the supermarket, armed with gnocchi, soy yogurt and FANTASTIC organic Gala apples.  Oldies 103.3 claims to play the greatest hits of the 60s and 70s.

And, in a repeat performance, the station played “I’ve Had the Time of my Life.”

The song from Dirty Dancing.

The song from 1987.

I was born in 1984.  No song released in my lifetime should be considered to be OLDIES!

It’s a total 80s song.  I can’t imagine how anyone would be mistaken.

Get rid of the American Idol “mosh” pit!!!! Tuesday, Mar 25 2008 

I am watching American Idol right now.  God, this show sucks you in, even though it’s so easy to hate it.

I mean, it’s obvious that plenty of these contestants (including Carly and Kristy Lee) are plants.  Come on, Carly and Randy Jackson were at the same label at one point!  David Archuleta has family ties to the producers at American Idol!

It’s a cheesy karaoke contest.  There’s enough filler to fill a swimming pool.  Randy has become more incoherent than Paula.  And if I have to hear “Against All Odds” one more time, I’ll be throwing limp Boca patties at the TV.

Still, these things don’t bother me.

I love this show.  I love obsessing about it on the boards, I love the contestants’ stories; I love the near-daily analyses on ew.com.

There is just one thing that bugs me.

THE “MOSH” PIT.

There is a group of tweenage girls that fills a pit in front of the judges’ stand.  While that’s only a minor change, the difference is that these people are always standing, they’re much closer, and they SWAY THEIR DAMN HANDS OFF-RHYTHM TO ANY REMOTELY SLOW SONG, AND PLENTY OF OTHER SONGS, TOO.

Not only is this excruciating to watch from a distance, the hands are now starting to get in the way of the cameras!  There is a great shot of a performer and it’s disrupted by a hand with sausage-like fingers on it waving, or worse, weakly almost-clapping, smack dab in the middle of the screen.

(Carly’s singing now.  Did anyone else think she would sing the Old School version of the song?  Is it bad that I think of that as the default version of the song?  TATTOO FACE!  TATTOO FACE!  THEY SHOWED HER HUSBAND IN THE AUDIENCE!!)

American Idol producers, pretty much every commentator has said the same thing.

GET RID OF THE MOSH PIT.

Or at least restrain the audience from waving their arms.

Prescription Hell Wednesday, Feb 27 2008 

Most of you know that I’ve been sick for quite some time.  If you count the first bout, it has been almost two months, including a two-week somewhat healthy period in between.  I’ve had two colds, then bronchitis and an ear infection, and though I felt like I was getting better in New Mexico, it didn’t last.

I called my doctor during my lunch at 2:30 PM today, and she told me she’d like me to try a different prescription, and if that doesn’t work, to come in for an appointment.  She asked me my pharmacy; I told her it was the CVS in Davis Square.

I went to CVS right after work.

They didn’t have it.

I realized I had a voicemail from the doctor.  I checked it.  They couldn’t find the CVS in Davis Square — it’s only been open a few months, but come on, it’s on Google Maps! — so they called it in to the one on Medford St.

I asked the pharmacy assistant to check and see if it was at Medford St.  She said that nothing was there.

I called my doctor.  The office was closed for the night and only the answering service was there.

“Is there any way you can look at my file and find out what the prescription was for and whether you can call it in if it wasn’t?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” she replied.  “We’re not allowed to look at folders.”

“….okay,” I said.  “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“You could come to the urgent care center.”

“That closes at 7:30.  I’m in Somerville and it’s almost 7:00.”  (The UCC is up in North Reading.  I really have to switch to a closer doctor…)

“Well, I could give you the number of the doctor on duty.”

“Does he have access to my files, electronically or otherwise?”

“He might!” she said enthusiastically.

I called the doctor on duty.  I left a message to have him page me.

In the meantime, I decided to call the CVS on Medford St. myself.  I was immediately put on hold.  After about five minutes of holding, the doctor called me on the other line.

I explained the situa —

“Can’t help you.”

“Is there any–”

“Emergency room or nothing.”

“Well.  Okay.  I will let the answering service know, because they thought you might have access, and if they had known, it wouldn’t have wasted your time as well as mine.”

He warmed up after that.  “What’s wrong?….Oh, yeah, I know what they probably called in for you.  Wish I could help you out, but I just can’t do that over the phone.”

I thanked him and hung up.

On the other line, I WAS STILL ON HOLD WITH CVS.

I waited another five minutes until I decided to just hang up and try again.

I called again and kept count.  Four minutes into the call, someone answered: “CVSPharmacypleasehold.”  She put me back on hold before I could get a word out.

Twelve minutes later (!), she finally picked up the phone.

I did not have the kindest words for her.  Waiting on hold this long for a store is one thing, but this is a pharmacy.  People have medical needs.

“I’m sorry.  There aren’t a lot of people here.”

I asked her to look for my prescription.

SHE FOUND IT.  SHE ACTUALLY FOUND IT.  Even though my doctor had called in hours ago, nobody had bothered to put it in the computer.

I handed my cell phone directly to the pharmacy assistant.  They talked it over and filled the prescription.

(But they only had enough pills for three days.  They told me to come back tomorrow to get the rest.)

And I am now happily medicated…but I’m going to go to the doctor on Monday, anyway, just to make sure this isn’t pneumonia or anything like that.

I bet this isn’t what Tom Brady pictured when he left his pregnant girlfriend. Monday, Feb 4 2008 

It’s been over a year.  Surely, Tom thought he was off the hook by now.

We don’t know all the details of what happened between him and Bridget Moynahan.  However, we know that he was never even close to being 100% innocent.

Tom Brady was well aware that what he did was wrong.  If not, he would have handled the situation much differently — for example, actually attempting to communicate with her.

There have been all of these hardships that happened to him over the past year, and every time, he figured that this was it.  This was his karma.  His baby didn’t have his last name.  He barely got to see his baby.  He had to go through a messy PR campaign and endure the humiliating OK! magazine headline of “Life Without Daddy” as little John clung to his somber mother’s shoulder.  There were many more that we know nothing about.

He probably thought that these were examples of his karma, stinging him where he least wanted to be stung.

He NEVER thought that he would lead his teammates to the ultimate record-breaking season, only to screw up in the fourth quarter and watch it all slip away as a crappy team claimed the ultimate victory.  They were so close.

Somewhere in California, Bridget Moynahan is smiling and pouring herself a glass of wine.

I am proud to say that even as a Massachusetts-born and -bred girl, I do not care one iota for sports of any kind, even Boston sports.  They fail to hold my interest in any way.  I’ve tried, and it’s never worked.

This is why I didn’t care whatsoever whether the Patriots or the Giants won the Super Bowl today.  I spent the game curled up on my mom’s couch, surrounded by my usual stack of travel books, as the game played in the background.  (I came for the food and to see friends.)

But I do care about the unexpected effect of this game’s outcome — the reverberations that are felt throughout Boston and New York.

Wow, this sucks, huh?  The Patriots were going to make history.  They were going to be undefeated.  This was going to be the best football team in history, to go along with the Red Sox’s stunning win this year and the Celtics’ winning season.  It would have been beautiful.

It’s too bad they choked in the fourth quarter.  Can you believe it?  The Giants aren’t even that good a team!

I just hope this wasn’t the only thing you had going for you.  You wouldn’t want this to get under your skin.

A Message for All Commuters Thursday, Sep 20 2007 

The left side of the escalator is for those who walk up the stairs.

The right side is for the tired, the relaxed, those with children, the disabled and the LAZY FUCKS WHO SHOULD BE STANDING THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT INSTEAD INSIST ON STANDING ON THE LEFT AND HOLDING UP ALL THE PEOPLE WHO MOVE AT A NORMAL PACE. In short, if you don’t want to walk up the escalator, DO NOT stand on the left side.

The Brits get it right. All over the Underground in London, there are signs everywhere directing people to stand on the right side and let the walkers ascend the left side.

Now, that makes sense. I love the tube, and the signs and announcements are as witty and charming as the Brits themselves.

Why can’t we have what they have? It’s not like I’m asking for sweet accents or universal healthcare. I only want those signs encouraging people to stand on the right.

You could argue that if I have such a problem with it, I should leave home earlier. Well, it bugs me even when I’m not running late, even when I have nowhere to be in particular. This is about efficiency, and it’s also about common courtesy.

I usually don’t get upset about this when it’s not rush hour. When hardly any people are around, it’s more than acceptable to stand anywhere (assuming you don’t block the escalator completely), to lounge across two or more seats, to stand in front of a turnstile, holding a Charliecard, mystified as to what to do with it.

NOT DURING RUSH HOUR.

Do your thing — just stay the hell out of my way.

Am I not doing enough? Saturday, Feb 24 2007 

I hate it when people make me feel guilty for not doing enough.

I just got off the phone with my mom, and we ended up having a big fight because she doesn’t think that I spend enough time with her.

Up until a few weeks ago, I was spending not one, but BOTH of my days off with her.

And now she says that I spend all my time with my dad.

I went out to dinner with him Thursday night, and Thursday night THREE WEEKS AGO.

That’s it.

And she starts crying and saying that she misses me and I never spend any time with her anymore. And that Sarah doesn’t even call her, ever. (For the record, Sarah keeps one of the busiest schedules I know — it’s not a mom thing; she has no time for anyone.) But that’s not my fault.

It’s just my schedule….first of all, it’s Oscar season, which I go crazy for every year, and each year I try to see all the nominated movies. I never see quite all of them, but I do see plenty. But since I took the schedule of working 2-10:30 PM, that has left me with no time to see movies, because movies never play outside that time (and if they do, it’ll be too late for me to catch the T home). Therefore, I’ve been consolidating my movie-viewing into only one per week or so, but I’ve been making it work.

And further, with working that schedule, I have no time for most normal people, except for those two days off per week. It has been hard enough dealing with just about every single one of my close friends moving away. Everyone has abandoned Boston — or is still in college (mostly with no plans to return to Boston). I’ve been reconnecting with friends I’ve known who are still in the area, but it’s hard consolidating all normal-people socializing time into two days a week. “I can do Thursday, or Saturday, but that is IT.”

And I’m trying. I’ve made some good friends in the past few months, mostly from work, and I’ve been hanging out with them and spending time with them (it’s good to know that some people have as crazy a schedule as you).

And in addition, I just moved to this new place, and it’s like starting over completely alone in a new city. I’m glad I didn’t have to provide any furnishings outside of my room, and I honestly have no desire to buy a dresser (which I need badly) because I’d rather spend the money on my trip around the world.

But here’s the thing — I feel like I’m doing well!

–I have a job that I’m doing well in, and I’m making more money than some of my friends.

–I’m paying my rent and my bills on time, including student loan bills, and nothing has ever been a problem.

–I have absolutely no credit card debt, and have yet to make a single late payment.

–I’ve been saving $340.00 every two weeks and putting towards my year around the world.

–I’m even getting fucking EXERCISE, living a 10-minute walk from the T!

–I’m healthy, I’m getting enough sleep, and I haven’t been having any problems.

–I’ve been spending time with friends, when I can, and with my family.

I think I’ve been doing good.

And for my mom to tell me that I’m not doing nearly enough, it makes me explode.

This past month, I’ve been doing a LOT of overtime, putting in 12-hour-plus days (including commute time) so that I can earn enough money to go to Texas and visit Beth for a few days. And enjoy one night at a “real” spring break destination, South Padre Island, which is something I have never experienced.

I am trying the best I can, and not only am I scraping by, it looks like I’m actually doing well!

And then I get hit with this….I feel like I’m a complete failure. Even though I know that my mom is acting on emotion and is saying things like, “Your sister and I are going to Florida next week and what are you going to do? Are you going to rely on your father to rescue you?”

FUCK. THAT.

My dad has not given me a DIME, save a few dinners out, and that’s the way I LIKE it — I don’t want anything from anyone. I am going to survive, AND thrive, through nobody’s help but my own. This is my life, and it’s entirely by my hands.

I’ve always been relieved since my parents got divorced (I had wanted them to for long beforehand), because it alleviated so much of the tension that was always present. But it didn’t completely end at that point. Once my mom moved out, I had to budget my time down to the hour, to make sure that I spent time with each of them was perfectly equal, so neither of them would have anything to complain about, and so I wouldn’t feel guilty in either direction.

It’s so hard to maintain that balance, even now.

I see my mom EXPONENTIALLY more often than my dad, because I know it means more to her, and for her to say that I spend more time with him than her — that is UNTRUE, UNACCEPTABLE, and UNFAIR, as I told her on the phone through tears.

I hate this.

But in all other areas, my life has been going really, really well. I just can’t wait to have $20,000.00 saved so I can take off and wander the world for a while. Fall 2009 can’t come soon enough….

LIES!! ALL LIES!!! Saturday, Jan 6 2007 

There is an issue of Ladies’ Home Journal that has taken up personal residence in the 5th floor break room at work, and because it’s usually the only piece of reading material around, save the occasional Redbook or OK! from August, I read it from time to time.

First of all, if there’s anything that makes me dread middle age, it’s Ladies’ Home Journal. It seems like all these women do is get fat, have marriage problems and cook for their picky families. Gag me. (Give me More magazine, the magazine for women over forty, any day of the week — and DON’T KNOCK IT until you’ve read an issue!! Reading it makes me think I can take over the world once I hit forty!!)

But what make me so incredulous was this article about weight loss. There was a woman who has shred something like 150 lbs. through a religious weight loss program. Ick. She said she didn’t diet or restrict foods or anything — she was just thinking about Jesus all the time.

What made me mad?

She was 5’4″ and 150 lbs.

And claimed to be a size 6.

NOT TRUE!!!! I am 5’4″ myself, I weigh between 125 and 130, and I’m between a size 6 and size 8!! There is NO WAY she is a size 6 if she weighs that much.

Kirstie Alley is obviously lying about her weight as well. She’s lost it, sure, but she’s not in the 160s, where she claims she is. And 220 was definitely not her heaviest.

And each year when People’s Half Their Size issue comes out, EVERY woman in it says she’s a size 8. I have my copy here, and I’ll bet you that nearly all of them are. Okay. Opening it up.

Well. Just four, really.

#1: Size 8. 5’8″, 158 lbs.
#2: Size 8-10. 5’8″, 152 lbs.
#3: Size 9 (whatever that is). 135 lbs. (no height given)
#4: Size 8. 5’7″, 165 lbs.

I do believe #3, except for the fact that her size does not exist.

I mean, do so many people think we’re stupid? This issue wasn’t as bad as some of the Peoples in the past. Someone actually wrote in that she really didn’t believe that a diverse group of women, from short and 120 lbs. to in the 180s, were all really a size 8. They’ll trick you. But not anymore.