Friday, May 29, 2009

Tova's Moving Extravaganza - Lady Jane

Welcome to Tova's Moving Extravaganza! For the next few weeks, I'll be in the process of watching Mr. Darling graduate from medical school/ hosting a fantastic grad party/moving/crying a lot, so some spectacular bloggers have shared fantastic stories of their own moving experiences, and they are scheduled to be published over the next two weeks. Make sure to keep coming back to read the guest bloggers' stories, laugh, and feel smug about the fact that you don't have to move right now (except for the few of you who I know are moving right now. Sorry guys. I feel your pain.) Lady Jane will be kicking things off with her hilarious packing and moving story. So without further ado, I am now officially introducing the beginning of Tova's Moving Extravaganza. Lady Jane, take it away!

Tova is moving, IRL, I was secretly hoping that she was moving close to me!

I can just picture it….we would meet up at a trendy new coffee shop to gossip and watch the bustle of activity of the city , then we could take a walk and find some of the cute boutiques and shop to our heart contents. After we make some killer purchases we would find a martini bar, cheer to our successful day and show each other our goods (get you mind of the gutter boys…I mean our purchases!! …sickos)

BUT the dream died when she reported that she looked at her Google Analytics and the closest people are two hours away. Hmph… too bad because Detroit is the place to be! Wait... do I hear you laughing??? I know what you are thinking the bustle of activity is actually gang activity and we wouldn’t actually be able to walk the streets alone because Detroit and Murder Capital of the US go hand and hand in whatever article that was written. Maybe your right….but there are SOME places we could go… the suburbs….No. Seriously I am pro Detroit and there is some amazing places here…you just have to know where they are!! So come on move to Detroit (they are practically giving away houses!!)or the suburbs, I will meet ya there with a drink in hand!!

Editor’s note: I live in the suburbs

Without further ado… my “moving” story….

First I LOATHE moving!!! Not because I don’t want to make a change, I love, absolutely love changing my surroundings!!! I HATE the actual moving and packing part. I always have this grand master plan and in this plan (dream, whatevs) I will have everything packed appropriately with marked boxes for which room they need to go in. I would take the time while packing up my place to do the much needed purge of items that for some reason I just keep dragging from home to home but have NO use for, and my breakables would be carefully wrapped so nothing gets broke.

But what really happens EVERY TIME is that I wait until the last minute to pack ( because I never think its going to take long…I’m thinking that it will be wham , bam, thank you ma’am) However, as the time closes in and I have 24 hours to vacate… I get in a mad flurry of throwing items in random boxes and getting them in the truck. I should also tell you that I HATE asking people to help me move. I feel soooo guilty and always put it off, because moving other people’s stuff is hard work and it really sucks ass! So when the day comes it ends up being me and a couple of friends….not so good especially with furniture and living on the top floor of an apartment building….let’s just say I have to supply a lot of alcohol…and make a lot of promises!!!

This is exactly what happened when I was moving out of an apartment (my own) and in to another apartment with my best friend. It was me, my bestie (CC) and J from this previous post (click on it!)… throwing random crap into random boxes. We even ran out of boxes and started packing things in pillowcases...not good...not good at all. So J true to form brought some weed. This guy was constantly stoned (back then). CC and I are no strangers to it but also did not smoke it on a regular basis. We are those girls that would smoke it a party when all our good judgment is out the window because of all the shots we threw back, but never actually purchase any weed ourselves. ( This was several years ago) However, J assured us that it would make moving “sooo much easier”. Well I hated moving so much and I thought if it could make it less painful then I’m in.

As you can imagine…it was less painful but CC and I were a hot mess!!!! OMG…I wish there was a video of it. Anyways, things were broken, things were lost, and things definitely were not packed in the way I had planned. BUT we did it!!

However, over the next two years that we lived in that apartment we would find my underwear in the most random of places….

CC packing her lunch in the morning getting out the tupperware and Surprise!!

CC: “Lady Jane I found one of your thongs!! Oh and I am pitching this Tupperware bowl!!”

Thongs in the buisquick (oh yes, you read it the pancake mix…really what warped mind would do that?!)

Thongs in a shoe

Thongs in a coat pocket

Thong, thong, thong, thong

And to be perfectly honest…I know for a fact that on moving day I did not have all my laundry done…just sayin…

And none of us are sure who did it….well nobody is taking credit for it.

But to cap off moving day…we found gay porn in the top of the closet of my new bedroom….

So what do you do? Order pizza and put in the movie, of course!

Hope to see you all over at my blog….well you better…because I didn’t do this post for the hell of it!



The one in which Tova gets all kinds of awesome new readers

Yesterday my blog was Blogger's Blog of Note, and it made my freaking day! I have all kinds of new, sexy readers, and I'm really enjoying my blog's new found "fame." Thank you all so much for stopping by and for your comments and emails (except for the one that just said "Chicken!" and had a link to some food website. I'm not quite as appreciative of that one.)

As you've all probably figured out from my last post, I'm in the process of moving to a new state. My husband, the amazing Mr. Darling, is graduating from medical school to become a real-live-doctor, and so we're moving next week! Fortunately, some guest bloggers have stepped up to offer to blog during Tova's Moving Extravaganza. That's lucky, because if I'd gotten all of these new readers and then disappeared for two weeks, I probably would've lost you all again. And that would've been sad.

All of the posts that show up for the next two weeks are pre-scheduled, as I assume that I'll be without internet for at least a week or two (boo!). But if you Twitter... Tweet... Twit... whatever... follow me, 'cause I'll be tweeting from my phone during the move! Hurray!

Once I'm reconnected with the wonderful world-wide web, I'll be stopping by more of your blogs to comment, look around, and spread some bloggy love. In the meantime, read these packing and moving stories, and imagine me walking up and down multiple flights of stairs with all of my worldly possessions. And please stick around until I come back! I look forward to getting to know you. Stay tuned for Tova's Moving Extravaganza...

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

A brand new start

The place where Mr. Darling and I have spent the first two and a half years of our marriage is the city where I grew up. I've lived here for more than twenty years. (I spent the first five years of my life in a different state, but it barely counts, since my clearest memory from that time is when my older sister and I were at our neighbor's house, and the neighbor was watching a movie, and in the movie, a boy got caught in a net, and it scared me so badly that I ran all the way home. No idea what movie it was, but it obviously made a big impression on me.)

My family lives here. Most of my friends live here. The majority of my fondest memories and awkward moments and formative life experiences took place here. In a lot of ways, that's awesome. In July, I will be a bridesmaid in the wedding of a girl with whom I've been friends since age five. We met a few months before we started kindergarten, and we've been friends ever since. A lot of the girls I spend most of my time with have known me since middle school - smack dab in the middle of my extremely awkward-looking phase (which lasted for at least a decade.) There's something really wonderful about friends who knew you when you were strange and weird looking; who know your whole history, your family secrets, your insecurities, and your stupid high school crushes; friends who don't need explanations of your neuroses and who were by your side through breakups, the death of your grandmother, and when your sister got pregnant in high school. It's comfortable and reassuring to have friends who know your background and who were there while you were becoming you. These girls really know me, and they love me anyway. That's spectacular, and I know I'll be friends with them forever.

The thing is, although Mr. Darling lives here with me, this is my city, not our city. I went to college less than an hour away, so every moment of my formal education - from my first day of kindergarten to my college graduation - took place within a 50 mile radius. Every time I go to the mall, I run into someone who has known me for years. One of my high school classmates works at the pretzel stand. A former grocery store coworker is now the manager of one of the department stores. The good ex's sister works at the jewelry counter in Macy's, his mom visits the same craft stores I do, and his best friend shares my bank branch. My college roommate's brother is a waiter at our favorite restaurant. When we go to the local amusement park, we pass the Ferris Wheel where I had my first kiss at age 13. Every day on my way to work, I pass my junior high school. There's the parking lot where I learned to drive. Right there is the grocery store where I worked for five years in high school and college. Over there is the public fountain my little brother fell into at age four when he was trying to fish out some quarters. Here's where I caught the school bus every morning, and over there is where I went on my first date. There's the football field where I received my high school diploma. This movie theater is where I went to watch Titanic eight times, and it was at that table in this restaurant that I told the bad ex that I was too young to know whether or not I wanted to marry him. This is the street where, at age six, I went from door-to-door selling dandelions for a nickel apiece. This is where I made new friends, and where new friends became old friends; this is where I first fell in love and where I first had my heart broken. The memories will be a part of my life forever, but they're part of who I am, not part of who we are. Most of our friends here have known me for more than a decade and Mr. Darling for just a few years. All of Mr. Darling's memories are 1000 miles away, and for the past few years, he's been living on my turf.

So I'm looking forward to our first house in our new city. To our favorite park, our favorite bakery, and the very first walk down our new street. To meeting people who didn't know just me or just him but who know us. To figuring out together which restaurants are good and which aren't, because I won't have already done the research by getting food poisoning at a local diner when I was on a date with a college boyfriend. To forging our way in a new place where, when I buy bourbon chicken at the mall food court, the guy serving me doesn't say, "Hey, didn't you used to work at the grocery store?" I've loved my life here, and there's something very comfortable about living where everyone knows you, but I'm ready for us to create our new life. I know that I will cry when we move. I know that I'll miss my family and my friends and the place where I grew up. I will always be proud to be from my city, but home is wherever Mr. Darling is, and I'm excited for us to make a brand new start together.

This will be my last "regular" post for a while. Until I've moved and have internet again, I've scheduled the "Tova's Moving Extravaganza" posts that have been written by some great guest bloggers to show up regularly and keep you all entertained. The next time I write in this blog, Mr. Darling and I will have started the next phase of our lives together: he will be a doctor, I will be a doctor's wife, and we'll be living in a brand new city in a state where we don't know anyone. I look forward to telling you all about our new life. Thank you all for joining me on this adventure.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Thank you

You guys are all wonderful. Seriously.

I really, really, really appreciate all of your comments and emails telling me that I'm not a baby for being sad, that even though moving away from everyone I know will be hard at first, it will get easier, and that you'll all still be here, reading, even when I live somewhere else. Also, several of you have offered to befriend me if I'm moving to where you live, and I could hug you for that. Unfortunately, I'm not moving to where any of you live. According to Google Analytics, the closest any of my readers lives to where I'm moving is two hours away.

Sunday is the deadline to submit your story for Tova's Moving Extravaganza, so get your in today! I've gotten a few fantastic blog posts from some of you (you know who you are, you sexy bloggers), but there's still room for more! Email your best moving/packing/traveling story to me at tovadarling(at)gmail(dot)com, and you could be a guest star on my imaginary reality show!

Well, Mr. Darling is packing and I'm sitting here blogging, so maybe I should pitch in. Talk to you soon!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Let's have a pity party for Tova

Next week, I will wax philosophical about how moving to a new state where I don't know anyone is going to be a growing experience for me. Today, I just want to say: I am moving away from everyone I know (with the very important exception of Mr. Darling) and from the city I've lived in for 20+ years to a place where I have no friends and no family and no job with amazing coworkers. And it SUCKS. This has all just hit me within the past 48 hours. Before, all I was focusing on was how happy and proud I am of Mr. Darling for getting his first choice of residency programs and on the awesome house we found to live in (rent, not buy). Then suddenly, it occurred to me that I am leaving everyone I've known for the past two decades. Mr. Darling and I were taking a walk and I started crying in the middle of the street because I am going to have no friends in our new city. So, if you all could play the world's saddest song on the world's smallest violin for me, that would be much appreciated. (Where the heck did that phrase even come from? Anyone care to research it for me?)

Don't forget to submit your horrible/funny/interesting moving and packing stories so that you can be a guest blogger for Tova's Moving Extravaganza. As of last count, I had... let me see... zero entries. So, I need yours! Puh-lease? You can email them to me at tovadarling(at)gmail(dot)com. And while you're writing, I'll just be sitting here feeling sorry for myself.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday Lives!

I know that last week, I said it would be the last Totally Awkward Tuesday for a while, but it turns out that it wasn't. Apparently, I'm very easily persuaded by polls.

According to the poll on the right, NOBODY thinks that Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays should be on hiatus while I'm moving. Who knew? Tabatha gets credit for being the only person who suggested that it not go on hiatus, though.

Based on your votes, what I'm going to do is this: Go back through all of the Totally Awkward Tuesdays, pick some of my favorites (emphasis on the word some - I have way more favorites than I have available Tuesdays), and re-post them on my blog for the next four Tuesdays (after asking the authors' permission, of course). Then you all can still participate in the Awkwardness, because I'll schedule Mr. Linky to appear as usual.

Since the deadline for my poll didn't really leave me enough time to ask someone if I could plagiarize their Totally Awkward Tuesday post for this week, I'm stealing one from my old blog that is no longer public. It's a post I wrote two months before I got married, and because I'm feeling lazy, I'm just cutting and pasting, and not changing anything other than the fact that I had used Mr. Darling's real name in this post. Enjoy!

"So, last week, I went to get my oil changed, which is not terribly interesting or exciting in and of itself. While I was handing over my keys, the mechanic seemed to be hitting on me a bit, but I didn't think much of it. When I came back for my car, however, the real awkwardness began. The conversation went something like this:

Mechanic: "Your car had no oil in it." Me: "It had no oil?!?!" (I may not know much about cars, but I do know that if my car had had NO oil, it wouldn't have still been running.) Mechanic: "Nope, no oil. Are you the only one who drives this car?" Me: "Yes." Mechanic: "Your boyfriend don't drive it?" (Two pet peeves here - incorrect grammar and guys who want to know if you have a boyfriend, but instead of just asking if you have a boyfriend, they ask questions about your theoretical boyfriend in hopes that you'll respond "I don't have a boyfriend.") Me: "No." Mechanic: "Why don't your boyfriend drive it?" Me: "Because he lives two hours away, and he has his own car." Mechanic: "What do you do - drive two hours to see him?" Me: "Yes." Mechanic: "You need someone who's closer! Two hours is too far away. You need a guy who you can see all the time!" Me: "He'll be moving here soon." Mechanic: "Well, you need someone closer until he moves here. You know, someone you can just hang out with and party with. Like a temporary boyfriend." Me: (Uncomfortable silence and avoidance of eye contact.) Mechanic: "You wouldn't even have to do anything. Just someone that you could call up if you wanted to hang out or party, you know? And then when your boyfriend moves here, you could be like 'oh, I don't need you anymore,' and just be with your boyfriend." Me: "I'm getting married in two months. I don't have time to hang out or party." Mechanic: "Married? You're too young to get married!"

At this point, luckily, he had finally handed me back my car keys, so I grabbed them and bolted for the door. Is it just me, or was this guy asking to be my backup boyfriend until Mr. Darling moves here? More importantly, does this technique ever actually work??? Are there actually any girls out there for whom this would have been appealing? "Of course! I'll just secretly date the guy who changes my oil at Wal-Mart until my fiance lives closer!" (I should probably note that the fact that he was an auto mechanic was not the turn-off here. I've actually dated two mechanics. I don't want any accusations of snobbishness!) Also, it's more than a little annoying when people who don't know you (or anybody, really, regardless of how well they know you) presume to know what you "need" better than you do.

It was fairly awkward at the time, but it made for a good laugh when I called Mr. Darling and told him about it.

Just a helpful hint that I wish someone would share with the auto mechanic - if you hit on a stranger, and they reveal that they have a boyfriend/girlfriend, give up! You can say something nice, like "(S)he's a lucky girl/guy," but then wrap it up, folks. The person either A- has a boyfriend/girlfriend and therefore is not interested, or B - is lying about having a boyfriend/girlfriend because they're not interested. Either way, your suave moves and charming demeanor would be put to better use elsewhere."

Ok, so that was my Awkwardness from two and a half years ago. Now it's your turn. The rules, for those of you who may be new, go like this - post an awkward story on your blog. Something true that happened to you or that you witnessed. Then link back to my blog and post a link to your blog in the Mr. Linky box below. It'll be great fun, I promise!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Packing up and moving out

Mr. Darling and I are moving to a brand new state (it's not actually new - it's one of the fifty that have been around for a while - it's just new to us) the first week of June so that he can start his residency, so I've been spending weeks packing our stuff in a meticulous and orderly fashion. Haha! I'm just kidding, of course. I've packed about three boxes. I expect to pack the rest of my things during the 48 hours before our actual move, in a caffeine-fueled frenzy accompanied by a lot of crying (I hate to pack, I'll be sad to leave my family and friends, and I become over-stimulated if I drink too much caffeine, so that will definitely lead to sobbing, guaranteed.)

Since packing is my least favorite thing ever, and Mr. Darling will be graduating and becoming Dr. Darling, and I'll be throwing him the best graduation party ever, and I will have a period of at least a week or two where I'll have no internet access, I won't be blogging much during the last week of May and the first two weeks of June. Rather than going AWOL for a month, losing all my readers, making you all wonder if I'm dead, etc, I decided to ask for (drum roll please) GUEST BLOGGERS! Ta da!

Ok, yeah, it's not an original idea, but it's the first time I've ever done it, so I'm excited. Wanna be a guest blogger? Sure you do! So here's how it's going to work:

Because I like to title things, the guest blog series will be called "Tova's Moving Extravaganza," because that sounds more fun than "Tova Thinks Moving Really Sucks." If you'd like to be a part of Tova's Moving Extravaganza, write up a funny, traumatizing, thrilling, horrible, or otherwise amusing true story about an interesting experience you had while moving. Or packing. Or house-hunting. Or heck, taking a really long trip. I'm not picky. Just make sure it's funny and/or interesting. Then, email it to me at tovadarling(at)gmail(dot)com. (Obviously, replace the words in parentheses with the actual symbols...) I'll pick some of your stories and schedule them to be published while I'm MIA.

Get your stories in to me by midnight on May 24 (Pacific time... which isn't necessarily my time zone but which allows all of you west coast night owls the opportunity to submit yours at the last minute). If I select your post, I'll let you know by Wednesday, May 27, and I'll also let you know when it will be published so that you can see your name in lights... I mean under my lips. Be sure to include the link to your blog in your email, and I'll link to you from my blog so that everyone can stop by and read more of your posts if they want to. I'll intersperse a few scheduled posts of my own into the Extravaganza, just so that you all don't forget about me.

(I originally planned for Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays to be on hiatus during this time, which would give us all a chance to stockpile some awkward moments to share once the awkwardness resumes, but then Tabatha suggested that I have someone else host it, which was a good idea, and which also led me to think that I could still schedule Mr. Linky to show up on Tuesdays and you all could post links if you wanted to. Your thoughts? Let's take a vote on that. Should TAT continue in my absence? There's a poll to the right.)

Ok, so to summarize - write a great post about a real-life moving/packing/traveling experience, email it to me, and then come back to read everyone's posts! You're all invited to submit a story, so get writing!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday

This will be the last Totally Awkward Tuesday for a while (edit: or maybe not? Vote on this to the right). As I mentioned yesterday, TAT will be on hiatus while Mr. Darling and I celebrate him becoming a doctor and then pack up our entire lives and move to a new state. So be sure to join in today's awkwardness!!

Because I will soon have to find a new job in a new place, today's Totally Awkward Tuesday post is about a job interview. Job interviews are often very awkward and uncomfortable. You put yourself out there and hope that a company will like your resume enough to actually want to meet you. Once they do meet you, you have about an hour to convince them that you're an amazing, spectacular, wonderful person whom they want to work for them. And then ultimately, they often make the actual hiring decision based on something completely trivial. For example - when I was interviewing for my current job, they had narrowed it down to two candidates: me and another recent college grad about my age. We were both new graduates, we had similar degrees and experience (or lack thereof), and we were equally outgoing and personable. So I got the job because I wore pantyhose to my job interview and the other girl didn't. True story. My boss told me after I was hired. We'd both worn skirts to our interviews, and I wore pantyhose with mine and she had bare legs, so they picked me, because my attire was more professional. So the bottom line is that a $2 item of clothing got me my job.

That's not my awkward story, though; that was just a tangent. My awkward story for the day is this: When I was interviewing for jobs after graduating from college (and before my pantyhose got me my current job), I went for a job interview at a company that did something that I now cannot remember to save my life. It was close to my house (I was still living with my parents at the time), and it paid reasonably well, so I applied for it even thought I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with anything that I was even remotely interested in. Life insurance? Banking? Mortgages? I can't remember. Anyway, I went on this interview (wearing pantyhose), and I had to sit in the lobby for what felt like hours because they had inexplicably scheduled my interview for the same time as their weekly staff meeting.

When I finally was taken in for the interview, it started out pretty normal. I talked to the woman who would be the new hire's direct boss for a while, and she asked me normal interview questions like what were my strengths and weaknesses, where did I see myself in five years, etc. Then she called in her boss, who was the head of the company, and the interview very quickly devolved into him telling me some long drawn-out story... about how he was jogging and tripped over a dog and hurt his leg (the boss', not the dog's). As he was telling this story, he started laughing. At first, it was just a reasonable amount of laughter, but it quickly progressed into hysterics. He was laughing until tears were streaming down his face, and I was quietly wondering if perhaps he was crazy. But I didn't want to seem like I thought he was weird, so I was kind of laughing along, while scanning the room to make sure there were no sharp objects anywhere. He just kept laughing harder and harder, and the woman was laughing, too, and they just kept feeding off of each other, acting like tripping over a dog and bleeding was the funniest thing that had ever happened to anyone in the history of the world. And I'm kind of chuckling along while thinking to myself, "Do I even want to work in a place where this is their idea of a funny story?"

Finally, they stopped laughing and proceeded with the interview, and then they told me that everyone in their office was really close and got along really well, and so they wanted to make sure that the new person fit in, so it was good that I had laughed at the dog story (which, they assured me, was a true story).

And I'm thinking to myself, "Um, seriously??? That was a test??? What is wrong with you people?? You're going to base your hiring decision on whether or not someone thinks it's funny that you tripped over a dog??" But instead of saying all of that, I asked if the dog was ok (it was). I think that particular question immediately disqualified me from getting the job, because apparently the fact that a dog could've been seriously hurt when a clumsy 200 pound man fell on top of it was not the point of the story. I got a phone call a few days later letting me know that they were going "another direction" with their job search.

Ok, so what's your awkward story? Share it on your blog, link back to my blog, and then link to your TAT post below (or in the comments if Mr. Linky vanishes again).

Monday, May 11, 2009

Don't touch that dial!

Tomorrow will be the last Totally Awkward Tuesday for a while (audience gasps). Between moving and Mr. Darling's graduation ceremony and graduation party, I'm starting to feel a teeny bit overwhelmed, so I'll be taking a semi-break from blogging soon. But wait! Before you all wander away to read other blogs, let me assure you that I will not abandon this blog and allow it to sink into obscurity! I have a plan to make sure that this blog is updated regularly, even while I'm away from you, my dear readers! Stay tuned, and I'll reveal the details on Wednesday or Thursday. Probably Thursday. (Hint - my cats will not be blogging for me. They're terrible writers.)

So, get your Totally Awkward Tuesday stories ready for tomorrow, as this will be our last chance to be awkward together for a month or so. Hopefully, Mr. Linky will work tomorrow (unlike last week, when it worked sporadically throughout the day and so I only had three participants. So depressing.) If it doesn't work, just post a link to your blog entry in the comment section of tomorrow's post, and I'll be sure to link to it.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Mensa material?

Elle is trying to convince me that she and I should join Mensa together. I'm a bit concerned that the whole group is full of weird, pretentious people who like to talk about being smart. (If you're a member, don't be offended - just tell me if I'm wrong! I don't know if anyone I know is in Mensa. Maybe some of my friends are secretly members and never told me for fear of seeming pretentious.)

Anyway, it costs money to take the Mensa test, and I knew that I'd taken an IQ test in elementary school, and your scores are good forever (apparently the assumption is that I didn't become less intelligent since third grade), so I decided to try to find my old IQ test score rather then pay to take the test. I was in a gifted program in elementary school, and I know my scores were good, but apparently they won't let you join Mensa just because you swear that your elementary school guidance counselor said you were smart. Who knew?

I rummaged through a filing cabinet full of random childhood crap, and in my search, I found out that they test children for some pretty ridiculous things. For example, I found my Physical Education Screening from kindergarten: apparently my skipping and hopping skills were superior, but my galloping skills were only above average. (I'm not making this up.) My Body I.D. (I don't have any idea what that is... I could pick my own body out of a line-up?) was superior, but my ability to crab-walk was only above average. My lowest scores were that I was only average in two-handed catching (that hasn't changed much in the last two decades) and average in hook lying position. Um, what? Hook lying position?? Frankly, I'm surprised that I was even average. I don't think I could get into a "hook lying position" right now if my life depended on it, mostly because I don't have a clue what that is.

After I failed to find my IQ score in the filing cabinet, I called my dad (who is a super-genius but not a member of Mensa) to see if he remembered my IQ score. He said he doesn't recall them ever telling him my score, just the percentile I was in (Mensa needs the actual score.) He then asked me why on Earth I would want to join Mensa, because it seemed to him that it was just a group of people who liked to talk about being smart. I told him that Elle and I wanted to meet new people, and he said we should join a historical society or another group that actually does something useful.

I never did find my IQ test results, and since I'm cheap and lazy, I can pretty much guarantee that I will never be a member of Mensa. Plus, I'm a bit scared that part of the Mensa test would be to get into a hook lying position, and I'd fail, and all of the smart people would laugh at me.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Two years, six months, and twenty-five days.

That's supposedly the point at which the honeymoon period in the average marriage ends and when romance is officially dead, according to this poll.

I'm not sure I buy it, as one of their examples of "proof" that romance is dead is that husbands leave dirty socks on the floor. Personally, I have been leaving dirty socks around the house since I was old enough to remove my own socks, so if that's indication of me taking my marriage for granted, then my marriage was doomed since I was like... six months old. Plus, I've never known anyone whose fantasies of a romantic marriage revolved around proper dirty sock disposal.

But if you think my skepticism about the validity of these statistics is enough to keep me from planning a ridiculous, over-the-top, wildly romantic evening for when Mr. Darling and I have been married for two years, six months, and twenty-five days... you're wrong. That date has been marked on my calendar since I first heard about this survey on the radio. We'll still be poor-ish at that point (Mr. D will have started his residency just a few weeks earlier and probably won't have gotten his first paycheck yet), so we won't be taking an exotic second honeymoon or renting a fancy hotel room, but I already have quite a few ideas up my sleeve.

Right now, my ideas include an outdoor candlelit picnic dinner under this gigantic tent-thing I have, followed by some, um, lovin'. I'm thinking roses and pictures and flowers and hearts and, of course, the stripper pole. (That part will definitely be indoors.) Actually, I'd like to do a whole romantic week for Mr. D: cook his favorite dinners every evening (which would be extra romantic, since I rarely cook), make use of all of my sexiest lingerie, let him watch Cops as much as he wants, etc. I'm looking for suggestions for how I can make the week extra romantic, and I need your help!

So what are your best cheap romantic ideas? AND do you agree that romance is dead in a marriage after about two and a half years?

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays

So, I've totally been slacking on blogging for the past week or two. Sorry about that, gorgeous fellow bloggers! I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, but that doesn't mean I should neglect you. I'm sorry! Please forgive me!

Even though I've been a blog slacker for the past week, I can't neglect the awkwardness that is Tuesday. This one is an oldie but a goodie.

Way back in my elementary school days, my siblings and I went to a pediatrician who totally sucked (seriously, she was awful - she was a wannabe psychologist who attributed all of our health problems to some imagined emotional trauma inflicted on us by our mom. When I was getting stomach aches every day, the pediatrician asked if my stomach hurt because I was sad that my mommy "left me" every day to go to work. Turns out I was lactose intolerant. So not only did she ignore my actual problem, she made my mom feel like crap. She was the worst.) Anyway, the pediatrician sucked, but her nurse was pretty great. She had long, long, looong hair, which I thought was the most glamorous, beautiful thing ever. That has nothing to do with anything, but I shared it anyway...

On one particular visit to the pediatrician (perhaps the one where she attributed my headaches to stress caused by my mom - I actually had a sinus infection), I had to give a urine sample. The pretty nurse with the extremely long hair walked me to the bathroom and told me that I needed to go to the potty. Being the extremely agreeable child that I was, I promptly ran over to the toilet, sat down, and... fell in.

Someone had left the toilet seat up, and in my haste to cooperate with the nurse, I failed to notice that. She laughed until she about died, and I was drenched and mortified. Luckily, I didn't catch any strange communicable diseases from the toilet, because I'm sure the pediatrician would've had a field day blaming them on my mother. I am officially the poster child for why men should put the seat down after using the bathroom.

Ok, your turn - share an awkward moment, old or new, on your own blog. Link back to my blog so that others can join in the awkward fun, and then link to your blog below.

Oh dear... as some of you pointed out, Mr. Linky is MIA. I definitely included it, but when I scrolled down, ALL of my Mr. Linkys have disappeared, and their website is down. So, it's apparently a problem with that site. If you wanna share an awkward story, just link to it in the comments, and I'll post your link in the body of this post.

Ok... it looks like Mr. Linky is back. Post away!

In my opinion, we don't devote nearly enough scientific research to finding a cure for jerks. ~ Calvin & Hobbes