Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?

Tonight, as Ole Waxy came home (at the bright and early hour of 9:30 pm), I was in the middle of talking with my friend Matt.  I had just gotten done explaining to him how much I like living in our new place- how much cleaner it is.  How preferable the tenants are here to those at my old building.  How friendly everyone is in the elevator.  How everyone makes small talk and holds open doors when you are carrying boxes.  

And then Mr. A presented me with this, which he found on his car this morning:

He then further explained that he noticed upon arriving home tonight that the leaver of the note also wrote "DOUCHE" in the dirt on the back of his car.

When I got done laughing, Mr. A and I had a conversation we often have.  Rich people.  What is the deal?  The rents in our building go up to $10,000 (ours is FAR FAR less than that).  It is not uncommon to find yourself on the elevator who needs the bellhop carts kept in the lobby to carry up their purchases from the day.  The parking garage is filled with Bentleys and Mercedes S Class sedans.  There are also random collectible cars- the from-across-the-ocean Mini Cooper.  The refurbished 1960s taxicab.  It's a weird world we are living in, is what I am saying.  Mr. A and I are mere visitors in this strange land.  It's a fun thing to observe to be certain.  But I think both Mr. A and myself feel somewhat estranged from some of the excess with live with.

Of course, the rest of the conversation when something like this happens to include Mr. A going off on some sort of long rant about rich people being douchey and over-privileged and arrogant.  And yes, there are certainly rich people like that, but I try hard not to stereotype people in that manner.  (And no, Mr. A doesn't hate "rich people," this is just his way of distancing himself from certain behaviors. ) Because while we are hardly "rich," I am very aware that people who are less fortunate than us make those same assumptions about Mr. A and myself.  That to some people, we  are the rich people.  Notably, every piece of hatemail I've ever gotten from this site is a roundabout means of calling me a "rich bitch."  It is a minor source of tension for us, especially given that we are (HOPEFULLY) upwardly mobile and moving towards more financial security and higher pay.  I look forward to that, which is certainly easier for me to because I am probably never going to be the breadwinner in the household and never have the responsibility of bringing in that money.  It worries me because I am more comfortable eating at fancy restaurants and staying in fancy hotels and buying nicer things than Mr. A is and I don't want that to become a bigger divide between us and a source of marital distress.

I also am always finding myself wishing that Mr. A would be more comfortable and more able to enjoy the fruits of his labors without feeling what I perceive as some kind of yuppie guilt.  I always want him to remain grounded, and obviously assist in keeping me grounded.  But he works very hard for the lifestyle we are presently able to enjoy.  I do enjoy it, and sometimes I feel guilty because I work less hard for it and seem to get more pleasure out of the whole deal.

Do you face similar issues in your marriage?  Yuppie guilt?  Guilt for not being the primary breadwinner?  Or less seriously, do people accuse you of parking like a douche?

And yes, I am also aware that this is a much better problem to have than struggling to make ends meet, but it certainly doesn't make it not a problem.

Friend Mesh.

I may have written this post before, but uh, let's pretend I didn't.  An exhaustive archives search yields no similar results.

So, if you go through life as most people in my generation, you end up with groups of friends that were your close circle for varying periods in your life.  I have my home town friends, my college friends, my law school friends, my friends from various jobs, my friends from my current job, the people I've met through this site and I am presently in the process of becoming closer friends with a few of my co-workers' spouses.

AND NONE OF THESE PEOPLE KNOW EACH OTHER.

I kind of like it that way.

I mean, for the most part I do.  The whole idea of having all of them in the same place at the same time?  Stresses me out.  A lot of people seemed to think it was odd that I didn't want a 30th birthday celebration or a party or a group dinner or whatever.  There are a variety of reasons for that- I don't like being the center of attention (har, har readers who hate me, I really don't), I'm not particurlarly excited about being 30, I don't like surprises, and well, I don't like being responsible for people all getting along and having a good time together.

I may be odd in this regard, but a lot of my friends from these different areas of my life?  Probably wouldn't all get along.  There are exceptions to this, but I think each group of friends in large part seem to play to different aspects of my personality.  I have different roles in each of these groups.  Which isn't to say I'm fake or phony with any of them, but more that interacting with certain types of people tends to bring out all kinds of different, although entirely real, behavior on my part.  It's a little weird.

Am I a complete freakshow here?  Do all of your friends know each other?  Is it really pathetic that the idea of having a baby shower (I AM NOT NOR DO I HAVE ANY INTENTION OF BECOMING PREGNANT) with all of these people in attendance is something that I think about because it is the realization of one of my biggest fears?

My New Apartment, Let Me Show It To You. AGAIN.

Well, since the Wax Man won't let me post the video of I took of him drunkenly eating tacos and waxing poetic about the virtues of the San Antonio Tex Mex scene (whilst simultaneously cursing the name of his friend Brian for abandoning him during his time of Taco Need), instead, I'll just post the progress we've made thus far on the new place.  Advance Warning: NOT MUCH.

Oh look at my fancy tub.  It has no secrets!

Or perhaps it does:

The start of my photo wall project laying on the floor.  We plan on painting the wall behind the tv green.

and yes, that is a framed print of a bear wearing a suit.  Like that's weird or something.

The new couch will be the same fabric as the chair.  We are also getting a new rug as soon as the new couch arrives in August.

In the meantime, there's that whore Vanessa.

It looks slightly more like a room now (I've moved the furniture a bit):

We plan on buying a high top dining table to put on the other side of the barstools.  Ya know, one day when we have money again.  Do any of you own one of these?  We want to get it cheap!  Recs?

SOME improvements have been made to this area.  This weekend I plan on hanging the four Anthro fish plates right above the computer.  I've bought a few desk organization items, but its still kind of a mess.

This is the only room that even remotely has some progress on it.  I'm going to leave that wall the color it is, mostly because I am very lazy.  We're living in here until the new bed comes in fucking October.  We have some stuff to hang above the bed, but that's kind of about it for this room.  On the opposite wall is the matching dresser and a tv.

This just shows the awesome windows in the bedroom.

Really, the most important thing in the whole place is SHOWER KITTY:

I bought shower kitty at Ross the summer after my sophomore year in college.  She has been with me ever since.  I will never get rid of her, no matter how rusty she may become, or how totally inappropriate she is with my decor.  I LOVE YOU SHOWER KITTY.  Even though you are largely nonfunctional and fall off the wall ALL THE DAMN TIME AND SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME.

The other bathroom lacks a shower kitty and is obviously inferior.

And lastly, "our room" which is presently the steam room:

The dresser and bedside tables arrive this weekend, the mattress to follow.  We'll move in once the mattress arrives.  And the one day, after we retire the stupid bed from stupid Room and Board will arrive.  When I initially ordered the bed, it was supposed to be ready in August, delivered in September because delivery takes THREE WEEKS?  I'm pretty sure I could drive all over the damn country in three weeks, but whatever, its a month and its the bed I liked the best and whatnot.  And then a month after I ordered it, they tell me they are having a hard time getting the fabric and blah blah sobstory cakes, the bed won't be here until October.  Which is stupid.  But works out really well for Room and Board, because at the point to order another bed, starting a month late, would end up with a different bed arriving IN OCTOBER.  How nice for them that I am now stuck with their never arriving bed.  Bed better be fucking amazing is all I am saying.

Anyway, the whole point of posting this is to have some measure of accountability to get shit done on this place.  Mr. A and I, okay I, had grand visions of doing shit at the other place that didn't get done for oh, THREE YEARS.  And I want this place fixed up, bed aside by end of August.  NO EXCUSES.  HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE INTERNETS!

Walk Ins Accepted?

Me:  I'd like to make an appointment for a deep tissue massage.

Them:  Okay.  Do you prefer a male or female therapist?

Me:  I have no preference.

Them:  What time would you like to come in?

Me:  Some time before lunch.

Them:  Okay.  Well, for the kind of massage you want, we have an appointment at noon with some guy named Jimmy.

Me:  Er.  Do you have anything after noon?

Them:  Yes, we have a 1:00 with Carol.

Me:  I'll take that.

Because there is a difference between not having a preference for a male or female therapist and ALLOWING YOURSELF TO RECIEVE A MASSAGE FROM "SOME GUY NAMED JIMMY."

WTF.

Thirty Eve.

So, I turn thirty years old tomorrow morning.  At 6:11 am to be exact.  And I'm not too cool to admit that this bothers me.  Just  a little.

It's not so much turning 30 that bothers me.  It's more like that 30 is sort of the gateway drug to old age.  If age 55 is heroin, 30 is marijuana.

Here you are, finally at "that age," the one you've been dreading since your mid-twenties.  The one that seemed so fucking far away not all that long ago.  It's more a sign of the times than anything.  A sign that some day, in the increasingly near future, Mr. A and are going to make a decision on that whole kids thing, lest we want children in high school post retirement.  A sign that one day, you will actually, really get really old and not just the kind of "old" I am right now.  A sign that your parents are really getting old, and that you will someday really have to deal with all that comes along with that.   A sign that you have to start watching your cholesterol and eating your veggies and drinking V8. 

Okay, I'll never drink V8, but you get what I'm saying.

When I started law school, I was just weeks past my 22nd birthday (which means that I've been a practicing attorney for 5 years, how the hell did that happen?).  Because law students often work before returning to school, I was one of the youngest people in my friend group.  Some of my closer friends were 27+, and I remember at the time thinking that I couldn't imagine returning to school at their age.    They all turned 30 sometime during my 3L year, and even then this age seemed unimaginably far away.  Now I realize what a sweet fucking gig they all had, managing to avoid adult responsibilities that much longer.

Generally speaking, I kind of revel in getting older, or at least past my early to mid twenties.  My homebody nature is much more socially acceptable at this age, and I am considerably happier not having to keep up with the pervasive social norms of a younger age.  The older I get, the less and less I care about what other people think and the more I live my life for myself.  But that mental block of THIRTY is still there.

This post started out like it was going to get profound or something.  SPOILER ALERT!  It's not. 

Whatever, I'm really not particularly melancholy about the whole thing.  It's just a little weird.  My life is pretty damn great right now.  Great friends, great husband, fabulous new place to live and a job that I feel good about and have fun at.  And obviously, a teddy bear who loves me unconditionally.

That said, I'm sure as hell going to buy some neck cream tomorrow.  I'm accepting of my age, but not wrinkles. 

This Should Be Good. And By Good, I Mean Bad.

So in an attempt to get my sugar/accidental ingesting of gluten habits under control, I'm going to try and take photos of everything I eat.  I'll be posting them to this Posterous account.  So follow along!  And judge away- I would.  

Thanks for all the well wishes re: the move!  We are pretty much done and while we have lots of unpacking to do, many things to hang, and walls to paint, we are both LOVING the new place.  I have a lot to say about it, but now I must sleep. I cannot believe I'm expected to work tomorrow.  LIFE IS SO UNFAIR!

Meet Vanessa.

So, some of you asked about Vanessa.  Here she is in all her glory:

So smug.

and here is Mr. A cavorting with her on the couch:

As a sign that I am taking this Vanessa thing WAY TOO FUCKING SERIOUSLY, last night I had a dream that I found out that Mr. A was having multiple extra-marital affairs.  And when I say multiple, I mean like 25.  How did I find this out?  I called his cell phone and he had changed his outgoing message to basically be like "Hey, its Mr. A, if you are looking for some adulterous action, I'm your man."  Yeah. 

So obviously, I was mad at Mr. A all day and called and confronted him about said adulterous affairs once I got to work (we don't usually speak before I leave).  Immediately after, we had this email exchange:

From: Waxy, Ole [Ole.Waxy@hisjob.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 07, 2010 10:39 AM
To: slynnro@herjob.com
Subject:

FYI, the summer program started yesterday, and thus tonight is the obligatory "kick-off" dinner. It is at 6:00. I imagine I will be home around usual time. No, this isn't a part of my massive web of infidelity-related activities. Vanessa won't be there.

 

From: slynnro [mailto:slynnro@herjob.com]
Sent: Wednesday, July 07, 2010 10:45 AM
To: Waxy, Ole
Subject: RE:

That's funny because Vanessa just sent me an email that said she had somewhere to go at 6 and wanted to borrow my new blush and eyelash curler.

 

It should be noted that I am not actually paranoid about Ole Waxy having an affair, as I mostly think he is too lazy to have one if he were so inclined (also noteworthy:  I DO NOT THINK HE IS SO INCLINED).  

This hot piece of man is all mine, ladies.  And hippos.

HEY, VANESSA.

You know what's weird?  When you have a big event coming that you've anticipated for a while and its finally on the horizon, and its just like, a regular week for everyone else?

The big, much anticipated move is finally happening this weekend, and its odd to me that ya know, everyone in my life isn't all atwitter about it like I am.  I mean, not that I expect them to care about my move, but its just weird that I have this big thing going on in my life and no one else is in the same atwittered state.  Like its just Tuesday to MOST people, and its like TUESDAY!  BEFORE!  BIG!  MOVE! for me.  Do you ever feel that way or am I just a completely narcissistic asshole?

I'm also all excited because I think this is the week we finally are going to book our Hurricane Season Value Package Vacation.  People send me emails from time to time wondering how we get such great deals on our vacations.  As you all know, I'm a total Travel Princess and insist on staying in the fanciest place available due to an entitlement complex that makes no sense whatsoever given my station in life.  Dumpy Suites and all that.  Its not because Mr. A suddenly because less cost conscious when it comes to beaches, its that we are ready and willing to risk having our vacation ruined by giant, swirling masses of ocean.  (We buy trip insurance).  My big booking secret?  Expedia.  Dot Com.  You may have heard of it?  Anyhoo, I think we've finally settled on Mexico this year because we are only going for 4 nights due to budget constraints and the anticipation of next years Big Fifth Anniversary Trip!  So we are doing the Riviera Maya, which affords us a nice two hour flight (cheap two hour flight!) and the ability to completely avoid the horrific airports we usually fly through in Puerto Rico and Miami.  We've basically decided we're staying here, unless any of you have opinions on the Fairmont Mayakoba or the Rosewood Mayakoba (or ya know, amazing coupon codes for either, especially the Rosewood, which is my first choice but a bit too pricey). 

At either hotel, this is basically the view, which will suit me just fine:

And for the record, this vacation will cost us less than $2000.

So speaking of being atwitter, are you following me on Twitter yet?  I had a small chuckle last week, when I linked to Mr. A's Twitter and noticed a TON of people who are clearly blog readers are following him, not me.  I always knew you were coming here for anecdotes about that bastard!  Anyway, I'd love it if you followed me too, and I'm looking for some fun people to follow.  I'm about a million people behind on following people back, but if you start following me, I will follow you back I swear!  I need more people to fill my Twitter stream and my downtime at work!

As repayment for this process, allow me to tell you about Mr. A and Vanessa, since I know that's what you're all here for anyway.  Last week, I picked up a pillow from Anthropologie (on clearance, I don't pay $100 for pillows, ANTHRO!) that has a picture of a hippo on it.  Obviously, it is BAD ASS.  Mr. A took quite a liking to it, as he is wont to do involving anything with an animal on it.  He named the pillow Vanessa and every time he walks past it he says "HEEEEEEEEEY, VINESSSSSSSSSSAH!"  I have noticed that he's making eyes at this pillow and has a pretty serious crush.  I see him on the couch clutching Vanessa and petting her softly. I cannot believe I brought my husband's own mistress into my home.

Scenes From a Marriage: Platonic Friend Ed.

Him:  Who are you staying with when you go to New York?

Me:  Kristin and Ali.

Him:  Allen?  WHO IS THAT?  You're staying with a guy?

Me:  AL-LI.

Him:  Oh.

Me:  I'm not staying with a GUY.

Him:  Well, I would have assumed he was gay.

Me:  What would you do if I had said I was staying with a straight dude?

Him:  (pause)

Him:  Well, I guess I'd have to find straight woman to stay with me.

Fair Enough.

Random Thought I Really Shouldn't Have Made a Whole Entry. Except That I Did.

There's this girl I met a few months ago.  She's a friend of a friend of a friend, but due to several incidents in which we were both hanging out with the friend of the friend, she is now a "friendly acquaintance."  Friendly acquaitance being someone who is more than just a mere acquainatance due to sheer volume of acquaintance-like contact which has elevated her to a level somewhat higher than stranger, and somewhat less than friend.  This Friendly Acquaintance is a nice enough person, but not one that I would ever independently become friends with, or even become friends with as a result of acquaintancehood, for a variety of reasons that have nothing to do with whether or not she is a friendly person.  

Well, actually, that might not even be true.  Part of the reason I'd never be friends with her is because she is way too fucking friendly.  I generally prefer people to at least have some semblance of a surly side before I can even consider them for the formal friendship application process.  

That's actually neither here nor there really for the purposes of this post.  Because of the amount of contact I've had with her, we are far past the point of pretending we don't know each other out in public.  And due to her friendly nature, she's hardly the kind of person I could pretend not to know any way.  She'd see me, and she certainly wouldn't allow my usual evasive nature to lead the way.  In fact, she's so friendly it probably wouldn't even occur to her that people do things like pretend they don't know acquaintances out in public because why would you do that when its fun to interact with people!  Even those people you hardly know at all!  (now you are starting to see why we aren't friends, eh?)  For some reason or another, I tend to run into her ALL THE TIME.  At the grocery store?  She's there.  Getting a pedicure?  SO IS SHE!  WHAT A SMALL WORLD!  Every time I see her, she is like SO OVERJOYED to have run into me, and I always feel slightly guilty for not being able to match her enthusiasm.  That is a) not my nature regardless of how much I like you and b) well, I don't really like her.  Nonetheless, the guilt is always there because she is SO NICE. (It should be noted that I also feel guilty for not liking her because she is SO FRIENDLY). 

I recently saw her while I was having dinner with another friend, a friend who has nothing to do with our mutual friend of a friend, when I saw her meeting another person at the same restaurant.  I wasn't sure if she had seen me so I did my usual routine of ignoring the situation.  She got up to go to the bathroom and spotted me.  Of course, she bounded over to our table as though she were my long lost best friend.  She asked how I was doing, and being in a worse mood than I usually am, I gave a somewhat honest answer along with a reason for my current disposition.  Her response?  "Wow!  That sounds awesome!"

 She wasn't listening to a single word I said.  And I suspect this to be the case for the past 500 times I have seen her in the past.  And suddenly, I felt extreme VIN-DI-FUCKING-CATION.  Guilt?  ABSOLVED.

And then, just as suddenly. . .I liked her a bit more.  She's just like me.  She's just better at it.