"You can't expect to take the right road every morning" --Little Feat

Okay, show of hands... who bought two suits in the last three weeks? Anybody?

Just me? Oh.

And for what, you ask? (Thanks for asking. It's nice when you pay attention.) To have two updated looks when I applied for a job I didn't need. That's right. With all the people out of work, I wasn't satisfied with the perfectly lovely job I've got. No, I had to go after another one.

So, last week, I spent one afternoon being interviewed. Hours of it. They tag teamed me. Two teams of two. Which sounds way hotter than it was.

And I totally flubbed the interview. I did not get advanced to the next round. No need for the second suit.

Hm. Maybe, when asked about my proudest accomplishment, I shouldn't have brought up the blog?

And, really, where I am terribly proud that anyone reads this (much less YOU, I mean how great is that?!), I feel like I've been phoning it in lately. I just can't seem to get my blog mojo working right now.

It's not you, it's me. I've loved the new underwear you bought and the new scent you tried. What is that aroma, anyway? Wet horse? Heaven.

Yeah.

No, there's no other blog I'm secretly spending my time on. Believe me, the last thing I need right now is to disappoint on two blogs.

Bear with me. I think our relationship can survive this rough patch. And... what the hell... go ahead and book that Poconos getaway with the champagne glass-shaped hot tub. Maybe it's just what this blog needs.

Meanwhile, I'll leave you with this deep thought...

"He's the man, the man with the Midas touch" --Shirley Bassey

Liebchen talks about wanting to be ambidextrous and pursuing it as a goal. And reading this, the first thing I thought was, that's a cool spy skill. As in, if you were a spy, that would be a cool thing you might need to know/be able to do.

I think about these things. If I were a spy. Or, if I were a criminal. I watch a lot of movies and I read a lot of thrillers.* And the main characters always have mad skills. And multiple identities. And methods of disappearing should the need arise.

A spy/criminal skill I have: I can, and have, carded doors. That is, I can open a door without a key--just with a card. Not every door, not every lock but it is a skill I learned in college** and I've found use for it. *eyes dart* Legitimate use, of course.

Question du jour: What spy/criminal/ninja skills do you have or do you wish you had?

Bonus question: How do you keep a throwing star from making a hole in your pocket? (Or scrotum, should you have such a thing.)

Extra bonus question: Can our pass code be "Your monkey is dipping his banana in my Captain Crunch"?


* Correction: I used to read a lot of thrillers. Now, I'm doing well if I read two books a year. *shakes fist* Curse you, Blog Reader! What have you done to me?!

** See, Mum? And you thought all that tuition was a waste.

This Space Left Intentionally Blank

Music gets trapped in my head. Sometimes a snippet. Sometimes the whole song. Whatever I've heard last, plays over and over and over until I hear something else.

Often, I wind up singing along with the soundtrack in my head without even realizing it. Despite what you might imagine, this is not a relationship enhancer. I'll sometimes realize I've been singing something only when I hear, "How many times are you GOING TO SING THAT?!"

Um, hundreds? That's a pretty good ballpark figure. Let's go with that.

Sometimes, I'll be in a store or at work and I'll be singing. If the last song I've heard happens to be Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American", aside from people assuming I've drunk the Kool-Aid, this is not such a problem:

And I’m proud to be an American,
Where at least I know I’m free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.

And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land
God bless the USA.

If it is the incredibly catchy Rihanna tune, "Rude Boy"* that I'm singing, say, while I'm making copies, this can get rather awkward:

Come here rude boy, boy, can you get it up?
Come here rude boy, boy, is you big enough?
Take it, take it, baby, baby
Take it, take it, love me, love me

I wa- wa- want, what you wa- wa- want
Give it to me, baby, like boom boom boom
I wa- wa- want, what you wa-*needle scratch*wa-Why are you looking at me funny?
*cough* *brisk exit*

If I'm going to get caught singing--and, oh yes, I am--maybe I should get more intentional. You know, like, I meant to do that. Maybe add some sweet moves and expressions?





* She sings these words and he's the rude one?

"When I was thinking about how right tonight might be" --Carly Simon

We went to the art deco style Carlyle Club Friday for an early celebration of my birthday.* We had a reasonably good dinner but the main draw was Doc Scantlin and the Imperial Palms Orchestra--big band, people! They performed great music from the 20s through the 40s. The show also included a charming chanteuse named Chou Chou** and four young ladies (Moxie, Sweatpea, Sugar and Angelpuss) who provided the Andrews Sisters-style harmonies. It was a hoot! Plus, a number of folks in the audience actually knew how to dance. Yowza!

I spent two weeks looking for the right dress for this. I could have worn a cocktail dress I had but I wanted to get into the spirit of the evening. After trying on dresses in many, many department stores and boutiques including some dresses in excess of $400, I found the dress I wanted at Lord & Taylor. The price was reduced and reduced and reduced. That plus a 15% off coupon got me the perfect dress for $48 and change. For real. It is cocktail length, teal with shutter pleats and bugle beads, looks like something out of the 30s, and it fits me like it was made for my exact dimensions. I have the right heels for it. I even have a vintage necklace that works with it beautifully.

The people at the other tables Friday were clad in everything from evening-wear all the way down to jeans. Sigh. Really? Jeans? That's the best you could do?

The Husband, who is always a fan of comfort over style, chose to be a sweetheart and suit up. He looked quite nice, indeed.

Which brings us to the questions du jour: Do you enjoy the process of dressing for a special evening and the anticipation of the impact you'll have on your date? Do you like it when your date dresses up for you? And, finally, Is anyone else completely over little black dresses?



* Speaking of being another year closer to death, I got my hair cut Saturday and am actually flaunting something "age appropriate" for the first time since I was five and decided to cut my own bangs super-short. So, yep, I, once again, have an "age appropriate" haircut. *narrows eyes* You're picturing Barbara Bush, aren't you?

** Say that three times fast.

Assorted Flotsam

• Why is it that every rug store I've ever gone past is continually going out of business? Never out of business, mind you. Just going, going... going. Is this a state law? When you get your lease, do they also issue you an "Everything Must Go" banner? Good economy, bad economy, it doesn't seem to matter. Maybe it's just a standard part of the melodrama. Reminds me of when I bought my Tabriz and asked if there was some room to negotiate the price. The response from the merchant, his arms extended toward me, wrists up, was, "Why don't you just slash my wrists?"

• I had plenty of time during SNOW2010 to check in on the Food Network and what I've come to understand is that, like movie critics, some chefs/cooks are going to jive with my tastes and some aren't. Paula and Ina use way too much fat and sugar for me, the Neelys use too much bacon*, etc. But that doesn't mean they're not entertaining. You can always rank on Bobby Flay's accent or Giada's bobblehead. And each and every one of them makes a great drinking game. You can see how many times they say: "Doesn't that look delish?", "This is one of my favorites", "...lemon to brighten the dish", "I wish you could smell this", etc. The other thing I've noticed is that one cooking show will tell you to add oil to pasta water, another will tell you not to. One cooking show will tell you to rinse mushrooms and another will tell you not to. Where is the Wiki judgy person for Food Network?
  

• Do they no longer feel it's important to heat restrooms in restaurants these days? Has anyone else noticed the drop in temps in even fancy restaurant restrooms? Brrrrrrrr.
  

• We saw a woman on the Metro the other day. She wasn't indigent (unless this was her first day). She was dressed conservatively and sturdily. Reminiscent of nun-wear, if you will... sensible. And she sat quietly for all of a minute before standing, turning toward the other passengers, and saying, loudly, "Are you visitors? Out this window is the Jefferson Memorial and here you can see there's been lots of rain so the water is high..." She proceeded to do a rudimentary travelogue. I nudged the Husband warily. He whispered, "She's with people." I shook my head, "No, she's alone." He looked back and, with some thought, said, "And she always will be." After another minute of awkwardness, she sat down and pulled out a pamphlet that had a profile of Jesus on the cover, complete with thorny crown. I feared we might get preached to--it wouldn't be the first time on the Metro. She sat for two more minutes before she stood and began talking to the man standing by the door with the baby carriage. His face was a mix of embarrassment and politeness--you know, the half-smile and the squinty, averted eyes. She didn't proselytizing, just shared. She was going to get off at this particular exit and go to mass on this street and...blahblahblah. What occurred to me was: Are people who are this lonely more likely to immerse themselves in religion, where they have to be accepted?
  

* That's right. I said it.