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Posts Tagged ‘why aren’t you listening to me?’

Dear Brian Wilson,

You kind of ruined the All-Star Game for me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy about the National League win. I like to think that it will come in handy for my Phillies later on down the road. You know, if I made predictions or anything.

But seeing you on camera kind of put a damper on the evening because – gee, how do I put this nicely – you look disgusting. Your beard is awful.

And you should know that I’m generally a huge fan of facial hair. Even unkempt facial hair.

Case in point:

So, maybe I’m still bitter about the 2010 NLCS. And maybe I haven’t forgiven you (or Uribe, or the Panda, or Cody Ross) and that’s coloring my judgment, but your beard still grosses me out.

You know that commercial where it shows what’s living in there? I fear that it might actually be accurate (not the dancers, maybe, but some living organism).

Because I’m such a helpful person, I’d like to offer up a couple solutions to this problem.

1) Get rid of the beard. It’s not often you’ll hear me say that, so take it to heart.

2) Just stop pitching. Quit the Giants (you’ll be better off) and go take up another hobby. A private hobby. Once you’re out of the spotlight, I’m sure this will be less of an issue.

You don’t have to let me know what you’ve decided. I’m pretty smart. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

For now, I’m just counting my blessings that I don’t have to see the beard in person. I might actually vomit.

Do the right thing, Brian.

Still hating you and your 2010 Giants,

Liebchen

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This past weekend, in an attempt to cross something else off my list, I took advantage of a free Sunday morning and went to church. I’d heard a lot of good things about this particular one, and it seemed like a place I’d be comfortable going to. I was there a little early – I wanted to get a feel for the layout, and not rush – so I sat down on a bench near the receptionist’s desk and began reading some of the material.

There was a man already sitting down near me, but I didn’t think anything of it. Until he started talking to me.

At first it was just the normal small talk – hi, how are you, and the like. And it was nothing new. I’m used to random people striking up conversation with me. But then this conversation got a little weirder.

Church Guy held up what looked like an album cover with a picture of a woman on it.

CG: This is my girlfriend. This is my girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she pretty? (He had a tendency to repeat things – not everything, but the important points, I’m guessing.)

Me: *nodding politely* Yes, she’s very pretty.

CG: She’s very pretty. Very pretty. You’re very pretty, too. You know, I’ve known her since 1976! 1976! I bet that’s before you were born! How old are you?

Me: *even while thinking that I need to extricate myself from this conversation* I’m 25.

CG: 25? So I could be your father? I could be your father. She could be your mother!

At that point, after politely nodding once more, I stood up to ask the receptionist the way to the sanctuary, figuring that would be the end of it. But, as I asked her, Church Guy interjected: “I’ll show her, Mary! I got it!

We walked to the stairs, and as we got to the first landing, he asked me, “Will you do me a favor?” He put the album cover of his girlfriend on the ground and said, “Will you just step on this, please? Just step on it.

Me: No. I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.

CG: It won’t hurt it at all! Look!

He picked it up and showed me that he’d reinforced the back of the picture with duct tape.

Me: No, I’m sorry. I’m really not comfortable.

CG: Please? I just want to take a picture of you stepping on it.

Me: NO. I wouldn’t want anyone to step on my picture, and I’m not going to step on anyone else’s.

CG: Okay. Just keep going up then. The sanctuary’s that way.

And with that, he turned around and walked back downstairs to the reception area. And I started to wonder – how is it that these people always find me? I know I could have been ruder or a complete bitch, but that’s really not my style. And it’s not like I ever actually felt threatened.

I’ll be honest: I really liked the church, but I probably won’t spend too much time in the reception area anymore. There’s only so much crazy a girl can handle on her own.

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I don’t generally comment on men’s fashions. It’s not my area of expertise, and as long as your pants are above your butt, I’m usually okay with whatever you’ve picked out. (As a side note – I’ve seen guys who wear their pants below the butt and without a belt! How do they stay up?! Seriously. I’m intrigued.)

Anyway, I’m not here to critique. I’m here with a simple request, to bring something back into the mainstream that I don’t see nearly enough of nowadays.

Suspenders.

Now, hold on. I know this isn’t at the top of everyone’s shopping list. And there’s always the fear of wearing them and having it look like this:

I get that. But there’s also the chance that you could pull them off and add a certain je ne sais quoi to your style.

For instance, I’m not particularly attracted to Chuck Bass (what? that’s not his real name?), but I think he looks pretty good here:

(I’m not sure if he gets plus or minus points, though, for matching his suspenders to his socks.)

And then there’s this guy, from a Van Heusen ad:

No idea who he is, but she seems to be on board my suspenders boat.

And, apparently, suspenders really are on their way back – at least, if you believe GQ.

So, give it some thought, gentlemen. I’d love to see more men in suspenders – there’s something almost dashing about it. (Ladies? Is it just me?)

Unless, of course, all you can talk about is TPS reports:

Then, don’t even bother.

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Quick note: a few of you asked which books I had left by the wayside, regarding my 25 for 25 (which I’ve turned into a tab – see above – or the link), so I’ve added the list. If this doesn’t keep me accountable, I don’t know what will.

Now, to the matter at hand – this most recent wedding. Since this was my third one this season, I figure I’m pretty much an expert at this point. And, as an expert, it’s my duty to share the knowledge. So, instead of a recap, I offer you a few helpful tips I’ve picked up, that I plan to use for my own way-way-in-the-future nuptials.

1) Have a photo game plan.

If you want to take family photos before the ceremony, set a specific time, and make sure all relevant people are aware of it. If the festivities are running a few minutes early or late, don’t worry. But if you say 1:30 and the photos aren’t taken until 3:00 (and then the same photo’s taken again after the ceremony), don’t be surprised if there are some cranky pants.

2) Keep it short and simple.

I understand that there are certain traditional elements that might extend the ceremony – a unity candle, breaking the glass, self-written vows – and that’s fine. This is more of a personal preference anyway (though I do plan on incorporating some of those traditions into my own ceremony). But the Minnesota wedding was the shortest I’ve ever been to – 23 minutes, give or take. (Yes, we timed it, because the boyfriend and I made an over/under bet for 35 minutes. I won.)

3) Two words: Open Bar.

Imagine getting up there only to be told that it’s cash only, and the ATM in the hotel where the reception’s being held is broken. If it’s an issue of cost, have a limited selection of wine and beer. But still try to keep it open.

4) Again on the bar – if it’s going to be open as soon as guests arrive at the reception, have at least some small hors d’oeuvres as well.

It can often take a while for the wedding party to get from the ceremony to the reception. They have more pictures to take, need to decompress, or want to just soak up the feeling and significance of what just happened. And they should. But, without snacks, this all means that there could be a very long time between the beginning of the cocktails and the consumption of food – and that’s never good.

5) The band or DJ can make or break the party.

Now, I prefer a live band, but to each his own. The important part is that they know how to set the tone. They have a lot of responsibility to play songs that will get people out on the dance floor, and keep people going. A good band/DJ will make you want to keep dancing even when the lights come on. And if they do their job right, then they won’t have to resort to playing the Cha Cha Slide.

Unless that’s what you request.

Keep in mind, these are only a few of the pearls of wisdom I’ve picked up over this past wedding season. I won’t go into dress code, location, guest list, or toasts (this time), but don’t think I haven’t learned a little something about those VERY important topics as well.

I’ll just save them for the potential part II – when the next set of weddings rolls around.

What would you add to this list? And, thinking of the best wedding you’ve been to, what made it the best?

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Remember how I said that 2009 was the year I became a runner – complete with injuries? Well, there’s one injury I haven’t mentioned here, because it’s just been so frustrating. According to the doctor, I have bursitis, which basically means that there’s a sac of fluid in my hip that’s inflamed. Awesome.

It also means that any time I run (I’ve attempted about 3-4 times in the past three weeks), my hip decides to cut me off around two miles. And that’s if I’m lucky.

The doctor prescribed Celebrex and physical therapy, so, trying to be a good patient (i.e. I’m dying to run again) I went to CVS to get the meds. Plot twist: apparently my insurance doesn’t want to cover it, so the doc has to override them, but, not to worry, CVS will take care of it all and let me know within 48 hours.

Lies. This was last week.

I tried to get my ducks in a row yesterday, and the ducks just wouldn’t cooperate. So, of course, I had to vent to a friend, via email:

I called CVS. They said it’s not their fault – they faxed my prescription to the doctor. So he may have contacted the insurance company and they just rejected it again, OR he may not have signed it. They don’t know. Because they did their part.

I called the doctor 1) to check on the prescription, 2) to set up physical therapy. 1) They can’t find any record of a fax form, and have no way to tell if it was received, signed, and sent off; received, but not signed; or just never received in the first place. So I have to call CVS back to have them send it again. 2) I got transferred to an automated voicemail that said NOTHING about PT, so I didn’t even know if I was in the right place. But I left a message anyway. And of course, I got a call back while I was on the phone with the idiot who couldn’t find my fax. So then I called back about PT, at the number and extension that was left on my voicemail. And I got PT’s voicemail again! Why is this so goddamn difficult?

Can you tell I was frustrated? Just a little? At one of the many points while I was on hold, I turned to Miche and asked, “Do you think they can tell how much I despise them by the tone of my voice?

Finally, after what felt like forever, I managed to schedule an appointment for my physical therapy evaluation. But there’s still no word on the meds.

I just keep telling myself that it’s all about baby steps.

Without the meds, that’s all I might be able to take, anyway.

*That was the subject line of my ranting email. So at least my friend knew what he was getting into when he opened it.

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Dear Phillies,

First off, I’m so glad that you won last night. Really, I am. And even though you managed to let a six run lead dwindle to just two, I’m still proud that you didn’t let the Yankees end it in Philly. That really would have stung.

But here’s the thing: you’re driving me crazy the way you play with my emotions.

You win a little:

You took the first game in New York – and that was awesome! I mean, honestly, Cliff Lee – just wow. What a great way to start off the series. And then, okay, so you dropped one in New York, too. And that was fine.

But then you lose a lot:

What the heck happened in those first two games in Philly?

Lidge – your job is to close. And in the event that the game is tied in the ninth and you’ve already gotten two outs – your job is to get one more out to allow for possible extra innings. This could come up again, so I hope you’re paying attention.

And Hamels – where is your head? It’s clearly not in the game. You’re better than that. I don’t want to hear, “I just want this season to be over.” That doesn’t instill a whole lot of confidence. Especially when you’re slated for (possible) game seven.

I know that it’s possible for you guys to pull off two more wins. If I didn’t think you could, then I wouldn’t be so upset with those recent performances. I’d just be happy that the season had come this far. But you heard Rollins last night, “We can either go home now, or we can parade down Broad Street.

The people want a parade. I think you want a parade.

So please, take this day to rest, reflect, and recuperate, and then push this series to the end. Win it in New York.

And know that even when I’m screaming obscenities at you, it’s only because I care.

So don’t fuck it up.

Love,

Liebchen

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Common sense does not seem to be a strong suit here in the District. For all the professionals this city has to offer, with their M.A. this and their PhD that, simple logic seems elusive. And nowhere is this more apparent than public transportation.

Take the metro, for example. Imagine a train consisting of six cars. If everyone on the platform crams themselves into the first three cars, they will be significantly more crowded than if they spread out over all six.

If you see people already pressed up against the door, do not imagine that you, yourself, are just so tiny that you’ll be able to squeeze in that insect-sized space without anyone wanting to kill you.

crowdedmetro

If you are that person squeezed up against the door and someone is trying to get out – let them! You’ll still have a spot on the train, even if you are a nice person for two seconds.

And then you have the buses. Rest assured, people. If you cannot get on the one you want at 8:37am, chances are good that there will be another at 8:42am and 8:47am and so on and so forth. Learn to trust a bit.

I usually prefer my walk to work, especially on days like this, but today I was running late. I caught the bus, a crowded one already, but managed to find standing room right up at the front – straddling that line that you’re not supposed to cross. For the next few stops, the driver was excellent about only letting on as many people as had just exited. Very methodical. Very logical.

And then we hit a snag.

Only two people. I can only take two people.

Two people board the bus. The second is quickly followed by another woman.

Only two people. I can only take two people.

The third woman is clearly ignoring him as she swipes her pass, as is the old lady who decided to follow in her footsteps.

Only two!

But you wouldn’t possibly say no to an old lady, would you? Or to the sneaky woman who jumped up the stairs behind her?

Only two, people! I know I’m yelling loud enough that y’all can hear me!

Short of shutting someone in the door (which I’m sure was tempting), there was very little he could do to stop the influx of passengers. I have no doubt that more people would have tried to get on, too, but the sixth and final person was still standing on the step, just inside the door.

Maybe it’s not really a lack of common sense here. Maybe it’s just an over abundance of selective listening.

I’m not sure I can decide which is worse.

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