Tik Tok in A Minor

I was scanning through radio stations in the car today, and as I passed by one station, I heard a snippet of a Ke$ha song. It was the "duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb" portion of "We R Who We R," as in 'We're dancin like we're duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb.'

Just hearing that one bar of robotic staccato sounded like the skipping that would occur when Vicki from Small Wonder would get splashed with water and malfunction. The thing it made me think about was- what if guys like Mozart, Bach, Chopin, somehow got transported through time to the America of 2011, listened to a Ke$ha song and were told, "yup, that's music."

Not that I'm a music critic or have anything to back up my two cents. And it's not like I haven't danced like I'm duh-duh-duh-dumb to a Ke$sha song or two, but just hearing that tiny flash of the song, out of context, put into stark contrast what music is today versus what music has been in the past.

It just makes me think about what I'm consuming as entertainment these days and if I'm really doing what's best for my brain...and the future of art. Does Jersey Shore have the staying power of Romeo and Juliet (no SamRon comparisons, please)? Will the Twilight series stand the test of time like Pride and Prejudice? Will music theory students of the future study the composition of Lil Wayne's early work while voice majors studiously listen to recordings of Auto Tuned Katy Perry songs?

I know there's still plenty of good stuff being produced, but there is also a huge glut of crap, and I think I'm hooked on more of it than I should be. Although, I have cut out some of my old reality guilty pleasures like Real Housewives and Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I've had the classic book "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad on my nightstand for two months, with page 35 still dog-eared, yet rom-com novel "Bet Me" about a frumpy, no-nonsense insurance agent who gets caught up in whirlwind romance with the strikingly handsome, achingly charming lawyer all based on a bet was devoured in two days. I guess what I'm trying to say is- actually, I'll wrap this up later, I'm missing The Bachelor.

What's My Motivation?

After a bit of a dry spell (similar to the one I’ve been in blog-wise), I finally tried to go to the gym last night. Tried. Now I’m justified (slightly) in not having gone for a week since I have stitches in my leg and I’m not supposed to do strenuous activity. But I figured I could go walk on the treadmill and do some upper body weight training and crunches and stuff.

Then I got to the gym and drove into the parking lot. Between the influx of temporarily enthusiastic New Years Resolutioners and the mountains of snow, it made the parking lot a crazy place. Snow had eliminated some spots and created an obstacle course in others. That is no excuse, though, for creating spots wherever you decide to stop your car. People were parked diagonally, perpendicularly, and other directions that I don’t know the names for. They just dropped their cars with no regard for people driving through the parking lot, let alone trying to actually park. The way these meat heads parked made looking for parking spot like looking for a needle in an assholestack.

I did three laps around the main parking lot and two around the auxiliary lot with no luck. I told myself if I went around one more time with no luck I was going home- after all it was doctor’s orders. As I made my final lap, I saw a pair of reverse lights flash on, but I pretended (to myself?) that I didn’t and headed for the exit. After all, when else in my life am I ever going to have a doctor tell me NOT to exercise?

A couple hours later, when I was sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld and eating Girl Scout cookies, my skinny little sister walked in, flushed from a work out and told me she’d gotten a clear spot right in front of the gym door. I congratulated her and ate another cookie.

Recent Tidbits That Have Tickled Me

- Jackie on her temperamental manager at Victoria's Secret:"I can't tell if I'm her sidekick or her bitch."

- A bumper sticker I saw on my ride home: "I piss excellence." I've decided to adopt this as my aspirational motto. From now on I will strive to feel that I too, piss excellence.

- I had a laughing fit when I saw one of these babies, can you guess which one?
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/2011/01/01/saturday-night-special-new-years-baby/

- Kitty was visiting for Christmas and decided she had to go to the bathroom while I was in there putting on make-up. She did not feel it was necessary for me to leave. I did. I won, but with only seconds to spare.

- My dad being chastised by my sister for trying to eat candy off of a gingerbread house that had been sitting out for three weeks. He was caught double fisting stale gumdrops and then searching in his pockets for a scrap of paper to spit them out into after the first bite. He found a candy wrapper (shocking) that worked nicely and the gingerbread house was promptly thrown away.

How Many Synonyms for Vomiting Can I Get into One Post?

I started taking a new multi-vitamin recently, and I just realized that it’s causing an unpleasant side effect. Today was the third time that, shortly after taking it with breakfast, I experienced an intense wave of nausea. This has only happened on days when I’ve remembered to take the vitamin and kicks in within about 10 minutes of ingestion.

Today might have been the worst yet because the nausea set in while I was in the car rather than before I left the house. I was waiting to make the turn onto the road leading to I-95 and it hit me. I started taking deep breaths and swallowing the excess saliva that kept seeping into my mouth. “Oh my God,” I thought, “I’m going to vomit into my lap and all over my car.”

I kept telling myself that I was not going to throw up, I could not throw up. Deep down, though, I really thought it was a possibility. The thing that occurred to me later, after it passed, was that I didn’t pull over or turn around during this episode. I was 72% sure I was going to puke, yet I kept driving, even executing a smooth merge onto 95 next to a giant truck. Luckily I got through the nausea without spitting up, but now I’m really curious what would have happened had I just started spewing onto my dashboard. When was I going to stop the car? Did I think I’d have the presence of mind while yakking to correctly signal my pull over to my fellow drivers? Was I just going to power through to work and clean up when I got there? How was I going to react to the looks of horror from other drivers as they passed me, while I, with hands securely at 10 and 2, projectiled onto the steering wheel? I’m relieved I didn’t have to find out, but I’m thinking I start taking my vitamin with dinner from now on…

Dry Spell

I haven't written any new posts in a while. Nothing really funny or weird has happened so I need to do something about that.

The Kid's Table

One of my favorite things about the holidays is getting to see all the delightful little kids I'm lucky enough to be related to. This Thanksgiving was no disappointment and highlighted a big part of why I wanted to come back to live in the US. There was just general cuteness all around, but some of the things that stood out to me were the following:

- 13 month old Kendal is without a doubt the most adorable baby girl on the scene today. Before dinner was even served, she decided she was done with the festivities and looked around at everyone, waved and said "Buh bye" over and over. She also did this when we tried to feed her butternut squash soup. She waved a hand in front of her face like a celeb who didn't want to be photographed and said buh bye to the bowl of thick orange soup in front of her.

- Three year old Collin put on a show for us, standing in front of the fireplace, rocking out and head banging while playing a ukulele. My favorite part was that after every "song," he would come over to me to ask if I'd liked that one. I gave him tips like, play more than one string and hold the instrument with two hands but he decided to go in his own creative direction, and that was fine with me.

- Almost four year old Gabe has a new favorite word and has become adept at incorporating it into every facet of his life. The latest was during his nightly prayers where he recited, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my poopy to keep..."

I can't wait for all the holiday gatherings to come and even more for the new babies that are going to increase the fun and cuteness quotient of these gatherings immensely.

The Princess and the Guido

Clearly there can often be disparities between how we see ourselves and how others see us. However, I was recently confronted with one of the starkest contrasts I've experienced yet about how people see me- and it was two of the people closest to me. Jackie and Andrew told me this weekend about this sort of dainty fairy princess alter ego they've created for me as their own little joke. This stems from a few different events and has (in my opinion) been blown totally out of proportion.

Once in college, as a birthday present, my parents got a car service to take my friend and I into the city for a comedy show. The next time I was home, my mom asked me how the limousine was. "Well, it wasn't actually a limo, it was a town car," I explained. "But it was great, thanks." This of course was turned into a tale of me not being satisfied with anything short of a limo when in fact I was just clarifying the situation.

Then, after I visited Jackie in Florence, my parents didn't want to make the late night drive to JFK to pick me up so they got me a car service. In this case I was fully expecting a town car when up pulled a white stretch limo with my name on a sign in the windshield.

Aside from that, there have been a couple times when I've been out in New York and once in Sea Isle when for one reason or another I've ended up being driven to my destination in a limo.

They have also come to the conclusion that I have the softest hands either of them have ever felt, which they say indicates that I've never done a hard day's work in my life.

So now whenever they see a limousine one of them will remark, "Oh, I didn't know Ali was in town." Or when Andrew saw a stretch navigator with undercarriage lighting and a fog machine getting worked on he concluded that I was getting a tune up.
Or when they drove across the bridge into Sea Isle and saw a fireworks show and said "Oh, Ali beat us here, they already started her standard welcome."

This has spiraled into elaborate pictures they paint of my wedding in which I'll ride side saddle into the reception on a white stallion with ringlets in its mane and golden ribbons woven into its tail giving a Miss America wave to the guests.

I may not agree with this assessment of me, but I've decided to make the most of it, like letting Andrew open my car door or taking Jackie up on it when she asks if I need a cushion my chair when we sit down to brunch.

The once consolation is that Jackie has an alter ego too. Due to her dedication to staying tan year round, whether through beds or lotions, the regular shaving of her forearms and her tendency to flex her bicep any time someone touches her arm, Andrew has concluded that she is a secret Guido. I'll take fairy princess any day.