A Spellebrity Is Born
How am I expected to get anything at all done today? The Spelling Bee is on!!!
Thank goodness for a rainy, gloomy day. Great excuse to stay indoors. And what luck! My daughter is engrossed in play with our neighbors, blessedly freeing me from Mommy, I’m hungry. Are you ever going to feed me? or I think someone’s trying to break in. I’m scared. Hush girl! Let them take what they want. Just as long as they leave me with one of the t.v.’s. and access to ESPN3.
Don’t you think it’s fun that it airs on ESPN? Best.Move.Ever.By.An.ESPN.Executive.Slash.Former.Bee.Competititor. You can almost still hear his murmurings echoing through the school halls after being picked last for every team: “I’ll show you Jocks. You just wait!” Score one for the dweebs!
We are in the Fifth Round. The word is BOMBYCINE. 14-year old Emma Ciereszynski from New Hampshire lets out a giant “Yay!” She knows this one. You go Emma! Bombycine. (Pffft. That’s nothing compared to Ciereszynski.)
“Does it mean of and relating to silkworms?” Oh no. No no. Emma. “Yes. That is precisely the definition,” answered Jacques Bailly, official pronouncer and 1980 national champion. (Like you didn’t already know that.)
Emma confidently nails it!
I LOVE “The Bee.” I love all things “Bee” related. My number one favorite city in the U.S.? My old stomping ground and proud host city for “The Bee” — Washington, D.C. My second favorite Broadway musical? “Putnam County Spelling Bee.” One of the few movies I actually own? 2002′s “Spellbound.” My favorite speller of 2012 – well, it would have to be 6-year old Lori Anne Madison of Woodbridge, Virginia.
SIX YEARS OLD!!
Wow!
This little dynamo, clad in pink, is home-schooled, making me realize yet again how ill-equipped I would be to ever home-school my daughter. She breezed through “dirigible” but was tripped up by “ingluvies.” Ahhh. She’ll be back. (You can compete through the age of fifteen, there is no lower age limit placed on competitors.)
Next word: ALLOTHOGENIC. From a Greek-derived German word plus an English combining form. Okay, is that supposed to be helpful? Apparently it was for 13-year old Vismaya Kharkar who spelled it perfectly.
My favorite part? Their absolute delight when they get one they’re not quite sure about right. Of course, I just want to jump on the stage and engulf them in a giant bear hug when they’re wrong.
Vaidya Govindarajan, 14, from Miami is given POLYNEE. A tart made of rich cookie dough, filled with meringue to which ground almond have been added, and topped with a cross made of two strips of the cookie dough. Origin: From Swedish. This is my guess: polynay. Kind of sort of close. But no points for getting some of the letters right. My spell check doesn’t like my spelling, but it doesn’t like the proper spelling either. So there!
I don’t think I could ever attend one of these rounds in person. My stomach is all tied up in knots just watching from home. And to be a parent in that audience? Oh the agony they must have to endure!
My daughter is back and calling me on my promise for Mommy-Daughter day. Maybe I can get her to watch with me.
Next word: CAPHARNAUM. From an Aramaic biblical geographical name to French to English. Oh that clears it right up. Definition: a confused jumble: a place marked by a disorderly accumulation of objects. Hey! That’s sounds like my blog! Here is my guess: cafarnium Here is my daughter’s guess: cafarnium. (That’s my girl!) We’re both wrong of course.
Boo Hoo. My daughter has had it with these trick made-up words. She’s ready to head out the door. I’ll tune in for the final rounds later tonight.
Which brings me to my dilemma (thank you spell check, why do I always think there’s an “mn” in dilemma?) — the final round of the spelling bee will air at the exact same time as Game 3 of the Western Conference finals!
Go Spurs Go!
Excuse me while I set up my DVR before heading out the door for some girly-girl time.
685.
Hello Dolly
The Bachelorette, Episode 3
Individual Date #1: Chris (Corporate Sales Director, Chicago) scaled the side of a building in downtown Charlotte in order to earn his dinner with Emily. You could tell Emily was nervous about the steep climb and the fact that she drew another crowd to watch her ascend didn’t help calm her nerves. When the wind picked up and the thunder and lightening rolled in, I expected her to call “cut” — but she hung in there and made it to the top.
What finally did throw her was Chris’s revelation that he’s only 25. Guess she’s worried he’s on the young side to take on a “package deal” — a wife and daughter. Chris attempted to set Emily’s mind at ease by declaring “I know I’m young. But I’m a man.” I’m not sure how long it took him to get this one sentence out, but Emily’s hair style changed from loose and down to pulled back into a pony.
She nodded and said very little so Chris continued, “I think the things I went through early in life, you know, I left home when I was seventeen. That’s matured me.”
College? Are you referring to college Chris? Learning to cook mac-n-cheese on a hot plate at 4am with powdered cheese and miller lite doesn’t make you ready to take on fatherhood.
Emily’s pretty smitten though so she offered him the date rose. Afterward they enjoyed a “private” (if you ignore the hundreds of screaming Charlotteans lurking in the background) concert by Luke Bryan. Given my love for country music, this season can go on and on and on for all I care. Bring on the hot country boy singers. They know how to properly pronounce Joo-lie.
Chris hasn’t kissed Emily yet but he thought this might be a good time. Christian Gray he is not — first, he asked her if he could. The last time someone asked first whether he could kiss me was in the eighth grade and I winced even then.
Back at the house, Tony (lumber trader from Oregon), checked in with his own son by phone. Being away from him is tearing him up and he wants to get the show on the road. Let’s find out if there’s a love connection or let him go home.
Tony was included on the group date to the park for a little football fun. Ryan, former pro football player and recipient of last week’s individual date, was at a decided advantage. But alas, a scrimmage in the park wasn’t meant to be. Instead, Emily’s four best girlfriends were asked to “interview” the guys to decide who would make the best father.
Iy yi yi!
Egg-Boy brought along the ostrich egg which didn’t sit well with the ladies. Lose the egg buddy. It’s as lame as that “guard and protect your heart” guy from a couple of seasons ago.
The ladies asked a lot of the questions you would expect, “How do you feel about being a father?” “Have you ever cheated on a girl?” But then their journalistic skills came to a screeching halt when they asked a few of the guys to show off their dance moves. White guys dancing alone with no music in the light of day? This caused my eyes to bleed a little.
Worry not, cause next they asked Ryan to demonstrate a few pushups. He didn’t hesitate to climb atop the picnic table and pump away. Suddenly all was right with the world again.
Emily’s blond mommy friend, Wendy, fell head over heels for Sean (Insurance Agent from Dallas) declaring him “a genetic gift to the world.” “You’re so cute and in shape.” “What would your super hero power be? You’d look good in a cape… or spandex.” Whatcha drinking there in your styrofoam cup Wendy? Cut this girl off. When Sean removed his shirt and performed pushups in the grass, Wendy climbed aboard. Dear lord!
Emily’s next test was to watch the guys as they hula hooped, slid down slides, and swung on swings with a couple dozen kids. Ryan escaped so that he could spend some time with Emily, which was smart, but she was enclosed in a spider web of moms. He should have seen this trap a million miles away and done an about face, but Ryan’s a bit cocky and figured he could charm this gaggle of girls. Unfortunately for him, when asked how he’d feel if his wife got fat after marriage, he answered truthfully. Had Emily been alone, she would have said something along the lines of “I appreciate his honesty. I want a gu-uy who will never li-ie to me.” But it didn’t quite come off this way. It was more a chorus of “wow” and “watch out” when he walked away and not in the hubba hubba kind of way.
The girlfriends seemed to like Sean and Doug so Emily gave them some extra time at dinner later that evening. Sean talked about how in love his parents are and how he wants that for himself and blah blah blah. Doug on the other hand opened up about his epileptic dad who died, the mother who abandoned him, and the foster homes he was raised in causing Emily to burst into tears. And by burst into tears I mean her eyes sparkled a little more than usual which I guess is the way really pretty girls cry.
Back at the house, Kalon awaited the arrival of the next individual date card and hoped that Emily had something really over the top planned for him. Tough luck Kalon, the next date goes to Arie (race car driver). Kalon, you’re left in the dust my friend. No date at all for you.
Tony revealed to Emily just how much he misses his five-year old son then he burst into tears for real. Call me callous, but I’m not a big fan of men crying. There’s gotta be a really really good reason and this just isn’t one. It’s not like he’s in Afghanistan, he’s on a reality television show. All he’s got to do is dial the cell phone in his pocket to reach his son. Or better yet, book the next flight home.
Alas, Emily did him a huge favor by admitting to him that he’s not gonna last long in this game and she sent him packing that night.
Sean got the group date rose. Not sure if it was for saying all the right things, or if it was more of a consolation prize for having to deal with her wacky friend Wendy.
Individual Date #2: Emily flew Arie to Tennessee to visit Dollywood. Would you believe it? Dolly Parton herself was there! Now if you’re not a fan of Dolly Parton then you’re not a person I care to know. She is glittery and over the top and genuine and unapologetic and wonderful. Dolly wrote and performed a song just for them which wasn’t slow and wasn’t fast and I sympathized with Emily for not quite knowing how to dance to it.
Dolly visited with Emily a little then sang a slow song so they could dance together again for real. Arie held Emily close and gazed at her lovingly, Emily had stars in her eyes too — but they were reserved for Dolly.
At dinner, Arie and Emily talked a little about his career as a race car driver and all went well because he received a rose at the end of the night.
Final night cocktail party: Emily pulled Kalon aside first. As if wearing a suit with no socks wasn’t annoying enough, he complained and complained and complained and THEN he talked over her and when she tried to interject he said, “I love it when you talk but I wish you’d let me finish.” Ah, the look on Emily’s face was priceless. If Kalon weren’t so self-centered he would have seen “You’re done buddy” written across her forehead. In her post-interview she said, “I do like tall, skinny and funny. But I don’t like tall, skinny and condescending.”
Next up, Travis. I almost went back to my notes to see who the heck Travis was. Seeing Advertising Sales Rep, Madison, MS, 30, did nothing to refresh my memory. But then I realized — oh! Travis is Egg-Boy! Travis decided to finally set Shelly free and allowed Emily to smash Shelly against the brick pavers.
(Who names their ostrich eggs?)
Ya gotta love Alessandro’s forthrightness. He revealed that taking on a six-year old daughter represented a compromise. Emily did her best to flesh out whether or not they were having a language barrier issue, but Alessandro was adamant that he knew what he was saying. Apparently the day prior Alessandro had also admitted to the girlfriend clan that he had cheated on an ex and had one-night stands and his last relationship was with his cousin so he was sort of batting 1000 by the time Emily walked him to the limo and said buh-bye. I would have ditched him based on his hair cut alone.
The other boy headed home last night (sorry to cut this short but we’re meeting friends at SeaWorld this morning, public schools are still in session so we’re taking advantage): Stevie (Party MC from Jersey). Finally!
Next week: the boys head to Bermuda.
As usual, comments welcome. It’ll be almost like we’re suffering through together.
1569.
There’s Someone for Everyone
School’s out! It’s our official first day of summer. The weather is gorgeous and we have weeks and weeks ahead of us for fun-filled days & relaxing nights.
Unfortunately, summer for me begins with congestion and a headache that just won’t quit. My daughter has a friend over and my husband has evening plans, so I’m resting up wondering how many Ibuprofen and Tylenol I can take before my headache goes away or I fall into a coma. (Either way the headache will be gone so win-win!)
Since my head hurts too much to read and I have an aversion to television (with a few exceptions: an odd guilty pleasure that even I don’t understand,”Bachelor/Bachelorette” — see prior posts/admissions, “Mad Men” — don’t tell me what happens cause I’m still two seasons behind, “Friday Night Lights” — just started season three so again don’t say a word, and Spurs games — Go Spurs Go!), I’m goofing around on the computer. I landed on a website called Meetup. It helps you connect with others in your area with similar interests.
The concept is cool. Click on Find a Group, enter your interests (dogs, running, etc.) and a bunch of local groups pop up. After sorting through a few promising ones — SA Tennis, Wine Enthusiasts, various mom and work-from-home mom groups, I wondered what else I’d find if I broadened my search.
How about something for my husband? There are a couple of motorcycle groups, but I’ve decided not to tell Jeff. I barely get to see him as it is.
What about my parents? (They live too far away. I’ve been trying to convince them they should live close to at least one of their daughters and given that I’m the smartest, most responsible, charming and sweet, and live in the greatest state in the country, I win hands-down.) For them I found the Community Garden Club, a couple of book clubs, and a travel club.
Next, I decided not to enter any key words — I just clicked on San Antonio to see what else I might find.
Oh boy! There’s one for Board Gamers — one of Jeff’s Circles of Hell. But what does he know? They have 200 members! I’ll bet they have all kinds of fun! Jeff’s missing out.
203 Wiccans. (I had to look it up.)
152 in the SA Polyamory Network? Really?? They’ve chosen to hide their membership profiles. Smart.
Some groups probably have seen better days — The Day Trader group boasts just four members. And there’s just one solitary member of Abundance Mindset. But really, would you join a group with the following description:
Hello There !!!! Our OUTSIDE is the reflect of our INSIDE! Life give us the opportunity of see in another people or Situation what we don’t like or like about us. Most the time are the programs that run our life, haver you heard that everybody or situation is our mirror? My Code: CHANGE YOUR MIND CHANGE YOUR LIFE!! If you really want to place your Business in another Level, come on and join us!!! and begin to create an Abundant Life!!! if isn’t today when?
Two members of Mental Health Patients Against Hospitals. I flagged their names so I could keep a close eye on them.
Fourteen members of the SA Satanists Meetup Group? Now I’m really worried.
Who knew so many people would join the San Antonio Skeptics Club? They have 133 members. Surely, no one in that group could have thought they’d make it. 
The Optimists Club? There isn’t one! But I’m sure there will be someday…
75 Introverts. No meetings planned.
Only 89 “Appreciators” of The Law of Attraction. Oh if only they just believed MORE. Probably one bad apple spoiling the bunch. Find him, banish him from the group, and membership will soar!
77 members of The SA Dutch Language Meetup Group. That’s a bit of a surprise.
But it’s nothing compared to the biggest surprise of all…
The San Antonio Bronies.
125 members. 125!!!
What? Don’t know what a brony is? Well, you should hear it from the horse’s mouth:
Here you will find a group of caring people with similar interests, looking to get together and share in what is My Little Pony Friendship is Magic! Whether its through our monthly meet-ups or weekly events we are more then excited to have you join our herd.
Oh My God!!
Or as my friend Julie so eloquently exclaimed when I forwarded her the link…
W. T. F. !!!!
This is a group I want to know more about. I clicked on Reviews.
From Brittany: “Y’all Rock!”
From Rellek: “Awesome bunch of bronies.” Rellek has been around. He knows a good group of bronies when he finds one.
From John: “Awesome group. Can’t wait to meet EveryPony again.” Oh John! You and I need to be friends.
What exactly do these people do when they get together? I may just have to join. If for no other reason, should make for some good blogging.
822.
Hooked
Episode Two, The Bachelorette
(Yes I KNOW it’s Thursday and that this episode aired on Monday. I’m so sorry. Clearly my priorities are a little out of whack. )
Here goes…
The first individual date went to Ryan, the Sports Trainer and former NFL football player. Individual dates on this show usually mean something pretty fabulous –a helicopter ride, private concert, bungee jumping, … Emily took Ryan back to her house so they could bake cookies for her daughter’s soccer team. Yeah, that works too.
Emily fancied Ryan up with a flowered apron and they got to cooking. He must have passed the cookie test cause he stayed around long enough to join her for dinner at her favorite Charlotte restaurant. I like that they are doing regular things in her regular town cause she’s a regular gal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, unless you count the few hundred people waiting behind red ropes screaming and taking photos when their car arrived. “Charlotte’s a small town. When something’s going on everybody’s going to know about it,” Emily explained. I’ll buy that.
During dinner, Emily hit Ryan with a few tough questions. She wanted to make it clear that she was not interested in a guy “winning” her, that this wasn’t a competition and she wasn’t the prize. Ryan handled himself well enough and he got the rose. Afterward, they headed outdoors and were treated to a private concert by Gloriana. Well, private in that they were the only two dancing. The two or three hundred people who came out to see them earlier that night were there again, cameras in hand, screaming at the top of their lungs.
The group date was next. Truthfully, I fell asleep. It was that dull. I finally got around to watching the rest of the episode last night.
Group date topic? “Let’s set the stage for love.” Thirteen guys accompanied Emily backstage so they could perform with The Muppets cause nothing quite spells love like a roomful of hand puppets.
The only real drama came from Chris (head trauma guy) who revealed to Emily that he wasn’t ready to do stand up seeing as how he was still relearning how to speak. Emily, showing once again that she’s all heart, moved him over to the group singing “Rainbow Connection.” Chris crisis averted.
Too bad nothing could be done about the other tragedy of the night — Stevie’s vest, cheese ball moves, and newsboy cap perched sideways on his head. Why is he still here?
The show started and we discovered something new and disturbing about Emily — she can’t sing or dance a lick! Yeah, I know I’m stretching. With her, there’s little to pick on.
Chris Harrison stepped in for Waldorf (Waldorf is a Muppet). Remember the old guys in the balcony? — by far my favorite part of the show then and now which tells you a lot about my sense of humor — and they cracked a few decent jokes.
Later that night, at the cocktail party, Chris (Corporate Sales Director from Chicago) told her he’s been tossing and turning in his top bunk the last few days. Top bunk? Seriously? Give these boys a proper bed! Chris must look better in person than he does on television. Emily gushed over his looks. I had to look real hard to see what it was she was seeing. To me, he’s a dead ringer for a tortoise.
(Side note: I’m a bit of an expert on tortoises now. We are the lucky recipients of my daughter’s class pet for the summer. More on this another time.)
Emily sought out Jef and bemoaned the fact that she’s been trying to give him “the look” and he hasn’t been paying attention. I have no idea what Emily sees in Jef. To me, he’s a little “of” (get it?). I can’t get past his Rick Astley hair-do. (“Never gonna give you up… never gonna let you do-own…” ) There must be something there though cause he got the date rose. I’m at a loss.
Kalon, sporting a white cardigan, thinks he’s stepped onto the set of “The Great Gatsby.” Since he’s from Houston, I want to be a little more forgiving of this guy. I keep searching for something, anything likable about this guy — but so far I’m drawing a blank. In case you’ve forgotten, Kalon is the “luxury brand consultant” who arrived in a helicoptor. huh???
Stevie, channeling his hero, Stevie Van Zandt, sat beside the fire, slowly sipped his drink, and slurred, “I don’t like you,” to Kalon in as threatening a voice as he could muster. Kalon, likely recalling afternoons spent upside down in a gym locker, managed to retort, “I wouldn’t like me either if I were you, bro.” Whoa. Fighting words! Stay tuned.
The next individual date was awarded to Joe. Joe and Emily took a private jet to The Greenbriar in West Virginia, a place she visited often as a child. (This helps me understand how she’s acquired such a beautifully decorated home as a young, single parent– her family is well off.)
Joe said all the right things and did nothing to embarrass himself, but Emily just wasn’t feeling any sparks so she let him go. She then had a good cry on the balcony while watching fireworks alone. How stupid did she feel standing there watching fireworks alone?
In case you’re wondering, this takes us from nineteen to eighteen guys. The plan is to get to sixteen by the end of the episode. So that you don’t have to strain your brain, this means two more guys are getting the heave-ho.
Not every guy went on a date this week, so you would think each one would vie for some time with Emily during the final cocktail hour. For some reason, Ryan monopolized much of her time. He presented her with and asked her to read aloud a seven-page love letter. Ryan, you’ll remember, has a rose. He would have been smarter to have saved this epistle for a night when his chances were in doubt. Or when they knew each other longer than three days. Seven pages? My parents will celebrate fifty years of marriage in November — together they couldn’t come up with seven pages worth of memories and declarations of love.
At the end of the night, both boys from Long Beach, California got the shaft: Aaron (bio teacher) he of Clark Kent fame (I’d wager those glasses aren’t even real), and Kyle (Financial Advisor). I had to go back to my last post to figure out who the heck Kyle is. Even after looking over my notes, I got nothin’. He must not have stood out in any significant way to either me or Emily cause I can’t remember a single thing he did or said in almost four hours of quality television programming.
So that’s it Bachelorette fans. Next week, Dolly Parton makes an appearance. Woo Hoo. Dolly Parton! I don’t think a more likable star exists on this planet.
1172.
I soooo wasn’t…
I soooo wasn’t going to blog about The Bachelorette. I wasn’t even going to watch it. But apparently my super smart DVR is preset to tape episodes of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette. So this morning, while it rained buckets outside, I decided I may as well take a peek.
Episode One is only an hour and a half (thankfully) and you can skip through a lot of the early stuff. It follows the usual pattern: air a few clips from her time on The Bachelor, flash to her romantic proposal from Brad (“Emily…uh…you’d uh… ya know… make me the happiest… umm… gu-uy…if you’d … way-elll …” Dear god Brad, spit it out! Painful memories…), then the heart-breaking and “shocking” breakup during the “After the Rose” episode.
Okay, we get it. She’s single again. But ready for love.
Of course.
After the commercial break we visit her at home. Okay, let me pause here for a minute. Is it just me or is anyone else wondering how this girl, pregnant at 18, single mother ever since, college degree (?), has managed to buy a gorgeous two-story brick home and decorate it to the nines all before hitting her mid-20s? Curious minds…
Bring on the guys. First we visit with a few guys in their hometowns.
Kalon, 27, is from Houston so I’m already partial. He’s active (plays tennis) but a bit wimpy and there’s something a little off about him. He loses me completely when he says: “I’m a young, fun, good-looking guy with a few dollars in my pocket. I can wine and I can dine. I am the modern southern gentleman.” After that I didn’t pay attention to anything else he said and just tried to figure out where in Houston they were filming.
After each guy, do you tick off a quick yes, no, possible in your head? Kalon: no.
Next up, Ryan, 31, from Augusta, Georgia. A former pro football player who now owns a sports training facility. He is cute and doesn’t say anything too stupid. Yes.
Tony, 30, from Beaverton, Oregon buys and sells lumber. (snooze…) But he’s a dad so producers focused on a bunch of “Ahh” moments with his son. “I’m just a single dad trying to find love.” Ahhh…. My first wife cheated on me. Ahhhh…. “What has two thumbs and is trying to marry Emily? This guy.” Nooooo…. He did not just say that!
David, 32, NY, NY Singer/Songwriter. Huge ego, tiny talent. Hate him already. “She’s the quintessence of like perfect, beautiful woman. We have all of these disparate facets that ultimately could like converge.” Yep, hate him.
Charlie, 32, Nashville, Recruiter. “I was involved in an accident a year and a half ago that changed my life.” I’m guessing he says it a little differently in a roomful of guys , “Dude, I was so drunk I took a nose dive off my buddy’s balcony.” He claims he sustained a severe traumatic brain injury so this could get interesting. But I’m going with no on this guy too.
Jef, 27, Salt Lake City, Entrepreneur. Jef ruins a perfectly good name with a dorky spelling, plus he dresses the way I did in the eighties: jeans that taper in a little too closely at the ankle, denim jacket, and a big pouffy crop of hair on top. (Could it be this look is just now hitting Salt Lake?) Also, he rides a skateboard. Ummm… in what universe does riding a skateboard scream, “This guy’s hot! Let me at him??”
Arie, 30, Scottsdale, AZ, Race Car Driver. Okay, this guy seems pretty cool but Emily’s first fiance was a race car driver so this has potentially painful written all over it.
That’s it for the back stories on the guys. You know most of them will make it on to round two, otherwise why use their clips? Here’s how all the guys made their introductions:
First out of the limo: Sean, 28, Dallas, Insurance Agent. Truthfully, all I remember is a bunch of hugging. He didn’t stand out in any other way.
Then David the singer/songwriter — more hugging.
Doug, 33, Charity Director/Realtor from Seattle announced he was a hugger. Then they hugged. Wanting to bond as quickly as possible, he revealed that he has a son. Then they hugged some more.
Jackson was next. His “profession?” A fitness model. He’s 29 years old and hails from the sunny beaches of Lockport, Illinois. He promptly got down on one knee, took her hand, and said, “Life’s not measured by the number of breaths we take. But by the number of moments that take our breath away. This is one of those moments.” Blchhh.
Then Joe, 27, Field Energy Advisor from LA leaped out of the limo and catcalled Emily’s name. Sa-woon!!! Guys, take a page from Joe’s book. Women are merciless to the effects of a good whistle and catcall. If her heart wasn’t won in that singular moment, the white-boy-reverse-dance-moves he performed as he walked away cinched the deal.
Arie (remember him? race car driver) was next. He didn’t hug her — but she pulled him in for a hug and I saw those baby blues of hers sparkle a little. I sense early attraction. Emily, wait! He’s a race car driver. Don’t do it Emily! Could this be the most dramatic season in Bachelorette history!!
Kyle, 29, a Financial Advisor out of Long Beach was next. Back to hugs. Little else.
Chris, 25, Corporate Sales Director from Chicago, poured his heart out to her. Sap.
Then there was Aaron, a 36 year old Biology Teacher also from Long Beach. Okay, who told Aaron to do the Clark Kent thing? Glasses on he announces, “I’m a high school biology teacher.” (Rips glasses off.) “But I’m here to have chemistry with you.” You didn’t just eat, right?
Alesandro, a 30 year old Grain Merchant from St. Paul, Minnesota has a strange kind of swagger. I thought he was limping at first but I think maybe he just wears his jockeys a little too tight. He’s originally from Brazil so that sort of explains it. He told her how beautiful she is in Portuguese and she answered “Gracias.” Close enough.
Jeff, oops, I mean Jef … I forgot he’s cool. Jef rode in on his skateboard. Need I say more? This time he was in a suit (actually, a great suit), but the hair was still too poufy.
Lerone, a 29-year old real estate consultant from LA was next. This will be interesting. He’s black and they haven’t mixed the races in a long time on this show. I read somewhere that there is a lawsuit pending about this so there ya go. I’m not gonna get all deep about the issue. Let’s see how it plays out.
(We’re at twelve guys if you lost count and appropriately at the half way point in the episode.)
Okay, Stevie, a Party MC from New Jersey approached carrying a boombox blasting music last heard on “The Love Boat.” I’m not a fan of colored shirts with a suit so his emerald green concoction hurt my eyes. But what really put me over the edge were his dance moves! Yu-uckkkkk! When he finally stopped flitting around Emily asked his name. You do know why don’t you? Emily is a smart girl — she wants to be sure she doesn’t accidentally keep this bozo around a moment longer. Let’s hope at least. I figured Deanna would dump that snowboarder in round one and look what happened that season!
Charlie, a 32-year old Recruiter from Nashville was next and I had to rewind three times to have anything to say about him. Let’s just say he falls somewhere between khaki and beige in God’s beautiful rainbow.
Remember Tony, the Lumber Trader? He brought her a glass slipper resting on a satin pillow and introduced himself as Charming. Prince Charming. Someone teach me to tie a proper knot so I can hang myself and be done with it!
In a nod to seasons past, Randy, a 30-year old Marketing Manager from Hermosa Beach, CA came dressed as his own grandma. If you’re not up to snuff on all the past seasons, a former bachelorette brought her actual grandma to sing her praises when meeting Boring Ben. It didn’t work out so well for her and I don’t think this has any chance of faring better. Producers should have played the Eeh Eeh Eeh sound effects from Psycho when this guy came on screen. He made a hideous, scary-looking grandma. Oh and I didn’t even get to his lime green shirt and vest. Vest?
Nate, a 25-year old accountant from LA, brought no props, pick up lines, or dance moves. She took his hands and told him he smells really good. As he walked away she whispered, “So cute!” Sparks!
Brent, 41, a Technology Salesman from Fresno brought his own name tag. Good thing. I’ve already forgotten him. (Later he reveals he has six kids. I thought he was kidding. But no, he has six kids.)
John, 30, a Data Destruction Specialist (who knew!) from St. Louis goes by “Wolf.” All-righty then.
Travis, Ad Salesman from Madison, MS brought her a giant glowing egg to represent how he would take care of her and Ricki. Huh? If that’s not annoying enough, he speaks in a tone about three octaves too high. Five when he gets excited. Take this boy to bed? I think NOT.
Michael, a Rehab Counselor from Austin has long scraggly hair. Texas roots notwithstanding, I cringe every time he tucks his greasy locks behind his ears.
Jean-Paul, Marine Biologist from Seattle. He said very little so I have very little to say.
Alejandro, a Mushroom Farmer from San Francisco, thought he was auditioning for a telenovela. He spouted a bunch of Spanish forcing Emily to break out the only three words she knows. Poor Emily. I feel for you.
Ryan we met earlier — he’s the Pro Sports Trainer from Augusta. His introduction was actually cute! He pulled out handwritten notes in which he wrote in big letters on one side, “You’re Beautiful” and when he flipped it over it said “I’m so nervous.” It worked on her and me.
Were you counting? That was 24. Just one more!
Of course you realize the final guy has to make a grand entry. And. It’s. Kalon! The Luxury Brand Consultant (??) from Houston. He arrived via helicopter immediately pissing off twenty-four other guys.
And that’s it. Twenty-five handsome bachelors all looking for love. Ahhh. Chris took a moment to remind Emily about the First Impression rose, but Emily said she needed to get to know the guys better before she could offer it to anyone. I’m not sure she understands the idea behind the First Impression rose…
After talking with a few of the guys, she finally presented the First Impression rose to Doug after he showed her a hand-written note his son wrote to her saying what a great dad he has. That sort of thing’s tough to ignore.
Here’s who’s left at the end of the night:
- Doug
- Chris
- Ryan
- Kalon
- Arie
- Charlie
- Jef
- Nate
- Shaun
- Joe
- Kyle
- Aaron
- Alejandro
- John
- Alesandro
- Michael
- Stevie
- Tony
- Travis
This is who’s gone:
- Brent (six kids)
- Jean-Paul (made no impression on me whatsoever)
- Randy (grandma)
- Lerone (african/american)
- Jackson (fitness model)
- David (singer/songwriter)
Nineteen guys? Who came up with that number? It upsets my sense of symmetry. 
During credits, I’m assuming that was Jackson the fitness model who removed his shirt for our viewing pleasure. Good news everyone — Jackson has found love! Yes. With himself.
So what do you think? Hooked yet? Emily will travel to stunning locales throughout the world and she gets to take her lovely daughter on this journey with her. Shoot, I’d say “yes” if Elizabeth and I could travel the world on ABC’s dime.
Oh wait. I’m married. Keep forgetting.
Stay tuned. Yes, there will be more next week.
(Leave comments please. Otherwise, I’ll just journal to myself.)
1990.
Self-Serving Self-Service
I have a Pavlovian response to the words, “We need to go shopping this weekend,” despite the fact that around our house those words don’t mean what they are supposed to mean. When Jeff utters them, he’s talking groceries.
That’s not shopping!! I’ve told him this repeatedly but he doesn’t seem to understand. Shopping is a day spent at La Cantera, a break for a salad and an iced tea at Nordstrom’s Bistro, a little more shopping, maybe some browsing in the Apple store, and finally a delightful cup of gelato to round out a soothing, productive day.
Going to the grocery store isn’t relaxing. It requires warrior-like moves to avoid crazies gunning for you full speed head-on in the wrong direction with a loaded cart. It’s keeping a hawk eye out for one little miss who sneaks marshmallows and LPS toys into the cart. It’s alternately sweating and freezing, pleasant aromas followed by foul ones. It’s dealing with unflattering fluorescent lighting, sticky floors, and carts with wonky wheels and germ infested handles..
I don’t want a single second of our weekend wasted by a trip to the grocery store, so I usually pick things up during the week.
When I do go, I try to go to the HEB by our house. I pretty much know where everything is so I can get in and out relatively quickly. But sometimes, out of convenience, I’ll shop at the one by the ice rink on 281 and 1604. The 281 store must be one of the “older” ones in town. The aisles are narrow, the store is dark, the items are arranged in seemingly random order, and even though it’s half the size of the one by me, I spend twice as long in there because I can’t find anything the first time through.
By the time I make it back to the front of the store to check out, I’m somewhat irritated and just want to get out of there. Inevitably, at this location at least, only one or two regular lanes are open and the ones not mobbed with people are designated as self check out.
I’m marginally bright and can work a touch screen about as well as anyone, but really, what is up with the self checkout lanes? Is it to save us money? Cause I’ll gladly pay an extra .03 for a carton of Dutch Chocolate Blue Bell if I don’t have to clock in and work a shift.
When I was a kid, not only did they ring up our groceries, they bagged them and automatically took them out to the car for us. My mother joked that she wished the bagger would come home with us to put the groceries away. Sheesh, I’d settle for someone to ring us up at this point. Forget the bagging, carrying and putting away.
The moment I get in the self-serve lane, a male shopper gets in line right behind me. The pressure! Not only do I have to follow the prompts correctly, but I have to be quick and efficient about it too. He’s a nosy one too, checks out each of the items in my basket with no shame whatsoever. Then he starts chatting me up. That’s a lot of eggs. You doing some baking or something or do you just like eggs?
Eyes on your own paper Bud.
Before getting started, I glance over to my left and spot an HEB supervisor perched comfortably on her three-legged stool watching me. I want to say to her, you know, since you’re here and all and not more than say a foot away from me looking all official in that smock and name badge, why don’t YOU check me out?
Blank stare.
Clearly, I’m on my own.
Touch screen to begin.
Beep.
Please remove all items from scanner. Start again.
Beep.
Item not found.
Beep.
Item not found.
Beep.
Remove item from bag area.
I haven’t put anything in the bag area.
Beep.
Please see cashier.
Finally, some help. I look over toward the supervisor. She’s not moving. Lupe, is it? What’s up Lupe? I need a little assistance over here. Look at my register, it clearly states Please See Cashier.
Lupe looks away.
Hello, cashier?
Oh that’s right, that would be me. Of course.
Heavy sigh from the man next to me. That’s enough out of you there Buddy. Watch it!
Research has shown that shoppers save both time and money when self-serve aisles are available. (1) I venture to say the opposite is true. It takes me three times as long as a qualified and trained professional to check my own damn self out. And if something isn’t going to ring up properly the way it should, I’m leaving its butt on the top of the counter. Lupe is going to have to climb down from her perch and put it back on its shelf. Or supervise someone else to do it. Of course, that someone else is likely to be me in their next round of cost-cutting convenience.
I just don’t get it. I’m already pumping my own gas, checking myself in at the airport, depositing my own checks, buying my own ticket at the movie theater, and running up and down the steps fixing my own internet while Aziza instructs me from thousands upon thousands of miles away. What’s next? I draw the line at repairing my own electrical, waxing any part of my own body, or heaven-forbid, cutting my own hair.
(1) Seriously? Did you think I actually researched this?
923.
About a kooky secretary, a Greek Orthodox priest, and a guy named Phil
Last night.
Jeff: Send an email to Scott and let him know my new flight information. (Scott is Jeff’s son. He lives in San Francisco where Jeff is headed today.)
Me: Do I look like your secretary?
Jeff: Yes. Yes you do.
Me: Your secretary is hot and waiting in bed for you?
Jeff: Hmmm.
Me: Nice try buddy. Send your own message.
The computer was about an inch away from me. Far too much of a stretch when he uses work tone with me. Besides, I’m a little sensitive to the whole secretary issue. My dad had two secretaries when we were growing up, both hand-selected by my mom. They were very competent secretaries, came from hardy no-nonsense folk.
When Jeff took over the Houston Galleria branch just after we were married, he inherited all their brokers, assistants, and admin staff. His branch admin (secretary) was cute and single. I took her out to lunch soon after we moved to Houston at the University Club. She proceeded to tell me about the great workout she’d had there that morning. I said, “Oh great. I didn’t know you were a member here. We can workout together.” “Oh, I’m not a member. When I come, if they stop me I just tell them I’m Mrs. Sills.”
I wonder what ever became of her. I think she may have been transferred shortly after that.
Jeff and I had only been married a few months when we moved to Houston. We had one of those mystical Greek weddings. We said nothing, stood around for a long time, circled the alter three times, and at some point placed rings on each other’s fingers. Don’t believe me? Our wedding is on a VHS tape somewhere. I’ll wipe off the 2 inches of dust if you can find something to play it on. Let me know how it ends.
From what I understand, we were officially married the day before when we signed the marriage certificate in the priest’s office. Before he presented the certificate for us to sign, he condensed six weeks worth of marriage counseling (that we didn’t attend) into one edict: “I certainly hope you’re not having premarital sex.” Jeff burst out laughing then groaned when I kicked him really hard.
“Oh, is he being serious?” Jeff asked.
Father Economopoulageorgiaides (something like that) spun the certificate around and let each of us sign, a look of disgust on his face.
The marriage certificate we had applied for and gotten the day before. ( Isn’t it fun to hear this story backwards?)
We were married in Canton, Ohio where my parents used to live. Canton, Ohio is known for many things. It’s home of the Football Hall of Fame, the birthplace of William McKinley, the National First Ladies Library (I cheated and looked that one up — news to me!), Hoover vacuums are, or at least were, made there, so are Diebold ATMS and bank vaults, Timken roller bearings, and it’s the city where Marilyn Manson was born. Marilyn Manson, nee Brian Warner. I went to elementary school with him. But that’s a story for another time.
So I know what you’re probably thinking. Wow! Canton is a megagopolis! Sort of sounds that way, doesn’t it?
My dad worried we would get lost driving downtown so he offered to drop us off in front of City Hall then cruise up and down the street till we were done. We weren’t sure how long this would take or if there would be a long line so we got there early. We were in luck, we were the only ones there. Well us and Phil. Phil asked us why we came and when we told him, he congratulated us, pulled out the proper form, then inserted it into a typewriter.
A typewriter!
Did I mention we were married in 2000?
He went through each question line by line. When he made a mistake, he pulled out correction ribbon. My maiden name is not easy to spell. Phil went through a lot of correction ribbon.
Needless to say, we were there a loooong time. Phil wanted to know all about life in Florida (where Jeff and I met and lived at the time). We bonded with Phil. Very nearly invited him to our wedding.
My dad in the meantime must have wondered what was taking so long. He worried that the “kids” (32 and 46 at the time!) were lost and having trouble finding the right office. So he parked and came in. By the time he had done this, we had finished and were going down Elevator One while Dad was coming up Elevator Two.
Jeff and I waited on the curb looking up and down the street for Dad. This was before Dad owned a cell phone so there was no point in trying to call him. (Actually, there’s no point in calling his cell phone today either. It’s never on. And if you leave a message, he doesn’t know how to access it.)
After a while, Dad came back down and found us. “Where have you been?”
“We’ve been right here waiting for you.”
“You didn’t find the office?”
“Yeah. We found it. We’re all done. Where were you?”
“I thought you were lost. I went up looking for you.”
“Oh, we must have just missed you.”
“You went to the right place?”
“Yeah. See. We’ve got it. Just took a while, that’s all.”
“Oh, cause I talked to the guy up there and he didn’t remember you.”
“Phil? You talked to Phil?”
“I don’t know. Some guy.”
“It had to be Phil. He’s the only person in that office. How could he not remember us?”
So much for Phil.
The rest of the weekend went off without a hitch. Well my mother draped the church pews with tulle against my explicit instructions and one of the groomsmen missed both his flight and rehearsal dinner, but the rest of wedding week was perfect.
995.
Why Apple? Why??
A dark iCloud has overtaken my computer and rained heavily onto my Address Book and Calendar. For the past ten years, when we first opened a .mac account, the addresses and upcoming events we entered and categorized would automatically sync to all our Apple devices. When Jeff added an event on his iPad, I could see it on my iPad, desktop, laptop and iPhone. No more calendar conflicts! Need a phone number in a hurry? No problem. We happily paid $99 per year for all this convenience. Well worth the money.
A few months ago we learned Apple would be phasing out the .mac accounts and that iCloud will do all that and more for FREE. Yippee!
The first thing I noticed was that our desktop, that we’ve kept alive for nine years on band-aids, whiskey, and bear hugs would no longer sync. I tried upgrading it’s operating system, but Apple just sighed before breaking the news that it’s probably time to let him go. We prefer to let G5 decide. When G feels it’s time, we’ll wait by his side and say our final goodbyes before pulling the plug.
Next, I noticed that all our contacts duplicated. That’s just annoying. It took a while, but eventually I figured out if you click on just one of the columns, that is, instead of clicking on All Contacts click on either iCloud or On My Mac and they’ll line up in single file the way they were taught.
But yesterday, after I waited in line at the Post Office for an eternity (and was warmly greeted by a chipper postal employee), I discovered than an address I had just entered the day before was nowhere to be found on my phone.
So I went home and figured out that not all my contacts duplicated. I had 760 contacts On My Mac and 740 on iCloud. How to find the missing twenty? I meticulously went through each and every contact and you guessed it — it’s not that twenty were missing. No, it couldn’t be that simple. There was a net difference of twenty between the two accounts and I had to find out which ones were missing from each of the accounts.
Hours later, I finished the task of coordinating both accounts so that they matched. My O.C.D. in check once again, I was able to relax and turn on the Spurs game. (They won again thank you very much. Go Spurs!)
So today I returned to the post office. I didn’t bother to write the address of the recipient on the package because I was confident that all my hard work paid off and my iPhone was up to date. But nooooo, the whole stupid thing has reverted to it’s original disorganized mess. I drove home, found the address, scribbled it across the package, pasted on enough stamps for this package to hit the campaign trail and threw it into a postal box.
I don’t have the strength needed tonight to do it again so I think I’ll just cry for a while. Tomorrow I’ll try again. That’s assuming I’m able to sleep tonight.
521.
10 Things I’d Like My Daughter to Learn From Me
My daughter turned nine recently. It’s a fascinating age! Sometimes she comes up with incredible insights and I am amazed at the complexity of her thoughts and understanding.
Other times, I realize just how young and innocent she still is. At school drop-off a few weeks ago I pointed out a pregnant staff member and said how exciting it was that she was going to have a baby boy soon.
My daughter asked, “How do you know it’s a boy?” “Well, because she had a picture taken in the doctor’s office that can show the baby inside the mommy’s uterus.” She thought about it a second then said, “But you can’t always tell for sure that way can you?” “No, sometimes they get it wrong.” “Yeah, because some baby girls are born without any hair, so they just look like boys.” “Um, yeah. That’s right.”
And the other day after watching a commercial for Playtex Sport she asked, “What exactly are they advertising? They never say. Is it the shoes? The clothes? Is it a sports bra?”
It’s probably time we had some of “those talks.” I, myself, missed out on every one of them — I have three sisters so my mom assumed they told me everything I needed to know. I learned a few things from my sisters (that I later had to unlearn), but more often than not I learned from my friends at school. Or Judy Blume.
So, on a recent Saturday, while my husband was off on his motorcycle, Elizabeth and I cracked open “The Care & Keeping of You” American Girl Book. The AG book is well written and hits a variety of topics. We went through it slowly. I let her ask questions and skipped through the stuff she already knew.
Now at least she’ll have a base of understanding when she hears crazy things at school, like this little gem, “If your mom puts your picture on Facebook you’re going to get kidnapped,” or ”My mom says it’s inappropriate to wear tank tops to school.” Al-righty then.
Our recent talk got me thinking about some of the things I’d like for her to hear from me (in case a falling meteorite kills me later today).
I started my list with ten items that quickly grew to fifteen, then twenty, then twenty-five. I looked over my list which included manners, being yourself, etc. and thought, golly, she could get this crap advice anywhere (I didn’t really say that, I never use the word golly).
What is it I really want her to know that she isn’t already learning from her Montessori school, her father, her friends or SpongeBob?
So I started a new list. The other stuff she’s going to chalk up to Hallmark or her friend with the “good mom” anyway, but these little nuggets she’ll know came straight from my heart.
1. Less is more, but none is dumb. God gave us L’Oreal Telescopic Mascara and Bobbi Brown Lip Gloss. Do not defy God.
2. If a teacher asks you when you will celebrate your eighteenth birthday, RUUUUUUN!
3. Before deciding whether you’re becoming serious with someone, make sure he owns a Kindle and not an X-Box. If he’s still playing video games, he’s not ready for marriage. On that note, you’re going to need two husbands, the regular one you see at night and on the weekends, and a gay one to assure you that you are fabulous.
4. Crocs are not shoes. And don’t get me started on those things with toes (yes, I know they have a name, I don’t want to know.) Once you lock in your day-gay don’t worry, he’ll never let you buy any of those things.
5. Choose your own religion and politics, but pledge Kappa. Lifelong girlfriends are crucial and you won’t find better ones than at the Kappa house.
6 Never put lemon juice or Sun-In in your hair unless you plan to join the circus or your aspirations include owning a double wide.
7. Buy the good champagne even if it’s just to make mimosas.
8. Keep all your diaries and resist the urge to tear out pages. Those are the entries you’ll especially treasure one day.
9. Travel. See as much of the world as you can. Talk to people, practice their language, and eat their food. Well at least try their food. Well at least try some of it.
10. When the girl scouts knock on your door, the answer is always yes. Buy as many boxes as you can afford. They’ll be gone by March and you’ll spend the next ten months wishing you’d bought more. When the boy scouts come by peddling popcorn, turn off the lights and hide.
781.
See More Pins? Yes Please!
My husband doesn’t understand my fascination with Pinterest. He finds the site cluttered, chaotic and superficial.
I don’t want to say he’s wrong, rather I choose to point out some of the reasons why he isn’t right. To the uninitiated, Pinterest may appear superficial, but I venture to say, Pinterest can save the world!
Pinterest helps lessen our dependence on foreign oil. I’ve already used some of the ideas I’ve found to plan a birthday party, organize my pantry, purchase gifts, and even clean my jewelry (combine baking soda and hot water — it works!). No need to drive all across town in search of the perfect party favor, pair of boots, or patio furniture — you’ll find it all on Pinterest.
Pinterest saves the environment. Remember the days when we had to print out recipes and tear apart our magazines? Those days are long gone thanks to Pinterest! Everything you could ever want can be pinned onto a virtual bulletin board. OCD bonus? It’s nicely categorized, arranged and easy to access.
Pinterest encourages you to follow your dreams: What’s on your bucket list? Travel more? Fly an airplane? Have you always wanted to grow an herb garden? Remodel a house? Maybe you’d like to become a better photographer or achieve those dream abs. On Pinterest, you’ll find all the ideas and inspiration you could ever need.
Pinterest reduces debt and brings economical stability during unstable times: I suspect the reason why some husbands are not fond of Pinterest is that they fear it will create an endless chorus of “I want this” and “I need that.” I venture to say I have saved hundreds if not thousands already! How many times have you bought the wrong color nail polish, the wrong color paint, the wrong color shoes? How many pair of pants do you have hanging in your closet with nothing to match? See what’s in style, what accessories to buy, and where to find everything all with a few clicks of the mouse. No more wasted purchases!
Pinterest spotlights genius: Given the popularity of the Housewives, Kardashians, Hiltons, and Snookis of this world, it’s easy to think that all anyone does is sit around watching mindless television all day. I’ve found the most beautiful artwork, cakes and cupcakes, crafts, table settings, and clever decorating ideas on Pinterest. I am both impressed and inspired!
Pinterest saves lives! Put down that greasy burger and french fry and visit your local farmer’s market. (This in turn will help your local community — another plus!!)
(Pinterest may not actually save lives, I just wanted an excuse to feature David Beckham.)
Pinterest reunites childhood friends and forms new bonds between loved ones. I like scrolling through the “popular” pages, but especially like to see what my friends are pinning. I discovered that one of my childhood friends and I have exactly the same taste in home furnishings, my step-daughter and I love the same clothes, and not only do my friends, but my cousins and I share the same slightly warped, sarcastic humor.
Pinterest teaches valuable life lessons: See something you like but not sure if it’s worth pinning? Pin it! You’ll never find it again. I’m convinced Pinterest does this on purpose. The creators are subtly encouraging you to take action! Carpe Diem!
Case in point — I had a perfect image to insert here. Just spent half the morning trying to find it again. It’s gone…
Pinterest is meditative. In the morning while the house is quiet I love to scroll through page after page. I find it soothing.
Pinterest builds confidence and self-esteem: One look at your boards confirms what you may be too humble to admit out loud — you have fantastic taste! And you are indeed hilarious.
Convinced? If you’re not yet on and want to be, ask for an invitation.
One warning: I’m enjoying the site for now but I fear it won’t be long till Pinterest “jumps the shark.” Given its enormous popularity, opportunists are already corrupting the links with scams and fabricated reviews. Boo hoo.
For now at least, I’ll continue to pin. Next step, turn some of my boards into reality.
692.
