Monthly Archive for June, 2006

If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Your Mother

Published
by
Girl Friday
on June 29, 2006
in Random
. 4 Comments

I’ve been trying to write something fabulous and witty, but I’m coming up dry.  This emotional roller coaster of a week has really drained me of my normally coherent thought process.  Instead, silliness is running a muck!  I spent the better part of the afternoon playing my own verison of Mad Libs with Lucky 10-Key!  Thanks for the distraction…  Here are the wonderful fictitious lives we created.  Enjoy!

1.  Once upon a time there was a girl named Michele.  She dreamed of visiting Rome.  She worked really hard at being the prettiest reading teacher at her school.  In her spare time she loved to eat ravioli and do crossword puzzles.  Even though she had a lot of make-up, she still had aspirations of hiking places and swimming in a luxurious bathtub all day long and meeting the man of her dreams.  One day she struck it rich when she sold her banal collection of hair spray and cell phones on E-bay.  She moved to Rome and found work as a professional seamstress for Prada.  She bought an ugly place and fixed it right up with a few coats of black and green paint.  She was so pretty and since she slept so much and walked everywhere she was very healthy and it showed in her face.  Everywhere she went in Rome men swooned and women were envious.  One fine day she met her own Doctor McDreamy and they ate ravioli everyday and lived happily ever after in their black and green house.

2.  While visiting your pastry chef friend Michele in Paris, you decide to do a little shopping for some new paintings.  You decide that the painting must match your brand new fuchsia settee.  While perusing the gallery, you bump into Colin Firth who thought he was walking into a bookstore. “It must be fate!” he declares to you upon your meeting.  You have a whirlwind romance and run to NYC to elope, but at the alter you decide not to marry Colin.  You just aren’t sure. So you move in with your dear friend Megan, the aspiring clothes designer, for awhile to figure things out and write in your journal.  Megan vows to get you out of your funk, so the two of you embark on a journey to Iceland.  While at the local night club, Slate, dancing the night away, you spy a model-like piano player, who is, coincidentally named Jamie Bamber.  You and your Jamie spend the entire night drinking coffee and feeding each other chocolate – aphrodisiac city!  After this night, you never think of Colin again…

I Ordered the Humble Pie for Dessert, Not the Pompous Pudding

Published
by
Girl Friday
on June 22, 2006
in Life
. 3 Comments

The Luncheon at the Country Club was lovely—the view of the golf course leading out to the majestic spread of the mountains, the bougainvillea blowing in the breeze, diamond rings glistening with self-conceit…They were all quite effective in eliciting a wry eye.  For all of my misgivings I had going into the luncheon, I didn’t think I’d walk out feeling so okay about my life.  I feared what the established ladies would think of my job or the level of my involvement as an alum.  They weren’t interested much in the former and they were appeased by the latter when I assured them I kept busy.  What I didn’t anticipate was hearing the shallow tales of yuppydom.  They talked so big to convince me of their happiness, but I think it was more for their sake than mine. 
I may not be where I want just yet, but at least I have a plan.  I’m not letting life lead me around like a dog on a leash.  I don’t need to make someone feel small just so I can feel big.  I’m no gossipmonger and I do maintain a high degree of decorum, no matter what I say in jest.  I’m happy being me and doing my thing, and for once in a great long time, that’s enough.  So I’ll sit and eat this delightful slice of life…it kinda tastes like blackberry.

Entrée of Self-Doubt, With a Side of Nerves

Published
by
Girl Friday
on June 21, 2006
in Life
. 1 Comment

I’m just sitting here waiting for it to be 11 o’clock.  I’m going to a “ladies who lunch” luncheon at The Country Club.  I’m trying my hardest to stop shaking in my boots (I mean, non-designer sandals).  It’s not like I haven’t moved in posh circles before—I’ve twice been a regular on the Hamptons’ social scene, but I was more of an inconspicuous hanger-on—but this particular event has my stomach in knots.  I can’t lie when they ask about whom I am and what I’m doing with my life.  Some people there will actually know me and unequivocally will not support my delusion of grandeur—that I work in publishing, and by that I don’t mean writing a stinkin’ blog; that I live in a palatial mansion, and by that I don’t mean my one bedroom apartment; that I have primo stock options and am developing my portfolio, and by that I don’t even know what that means!

I need to prepare myself for whatever these ladies toss my way.  I hope my wit and response time are razor sharp and that I don’t stumble into bad lighting.  Wish me luck.