NGS and assorted roommates are watching Deal or No Deal. When a woman wearing a skimpy referee outfit wanders on the stage, certain comments regarding the chauvinistic bent of modern game shows are made.
NGS: You never saw a Chuck Woolery show where they had women dressed like this.
Stupidhead roommate: Who?
NGS (randomly getting worked up, yelling maybe): Chuck Woolery? Love Connection! Greed!! Lingo!!?!
A note to the reading audience: NGS has quite a cold right now and after this loud discussion, I begin to cough. A lot.
Non-stupidhead roommate: Seriously. How can you not know Chuck Woolery?!
NGS: Yeah. (coughs pathetically)
Non-stupidhead roommate: And you've killed NGS.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Here I Come
This American Life is coming to the Orpheum Theatre next month. Guess who got tickets?! NGS!! I spent my discretionary money for the next two months to pay for the damn tickets, but I will see Ira Glass. If anyone else is there, I will be the one in the balcony with the "I Heart Ira" poster and the guy sitting next to me, cowering in his seat, will be Biker Boy. Yay Ira!!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Why They Call it Falling
In November, I received an email from my father with the subject line “URGENT.” I thought then, as I think now, that if it was really urgent, he should have called me on the phone, but who am I to think for my father? Anyway, what was “URGENT” was that he wanted a Christmas list from me. So I thought about it for a day and sent him a list that was composed of anything that I had even remotely considered buying in the previous six months. This included a software package, new sheets, ice skates and other somewhat extravagant purchases that grad students just don’t go around buying willy nilly.
I thought that my parents would buy me one or two of the items on the list and I’d be the happiest grad student ever. But, no, my parents went crazy with the list. Maybe they feel bad that I’ve been and will be in a state of broke for so many years. Who knows? So, ice skates. That’s where this story leads us.
Yesterday was a fine Minnesotan Martin Luther King Junior birthday day. It had snowed a couple of inches Sunday night, the sun was shining in a way that it can only shine on a cold winter day, and I wanted to break in my new ice skates. I had taken an ice skating class in college (go BG!) and by the end of the class, everyone else was skating backwards, doing crossovers, jumps, and assorted other fun stuff, and I was still falling. Every single class. I would try to keep up with my classmates. But I’m just not athletic. Or, in this case, not gifted with balance.
This was amusing to my teacher. What’s with this girl? She does come to class. She does everything I ask her to do. But she just doesn’t get it. She’s so clumsy. And graceless. And balanceless.
Anyway, so on this fine January Minnesotan day, Biker Boy and I grabbed our skates and headed to Lake of the Isles for my first ever experience of ice skating on an outdoor rink. I think that Biker Boy thought I was exaggerating about how I took a class for an entire semester and still fell. He clearly thought that I was actually quite good and just being self-deprecating. Ha. The thing is, he’s seen me rollerblade. It’s not like I’m any good at that…so why would he think I had some heretofore unseen ice skating talent? It’s anyone’s guess.
We took a few laps around the rink. So far, so good. Then, my toe pick got caught and like that scene from The Cutting Edge, I did a D.B. Sweeney and ended up eating the ice. I picked myself up, brushed off the snow and kept skating. Biker Boy said, “ummm…you all right?” I shrugged and kept going. Then we skated for a few more minutes when he started talking about how his oldest brother is actually quite a good skater and because I wasn’t concentrating 100% on my balance, I fell again. This time I landed on my hip. On the pointy part. And it hurt. So we went home.
The pointy part of my hip was bleeding (bleeding!), people. All over my nice white long underwear. And my knees are, um, huge purple bruise masses. Oh, yeah.
I can’t wait to go out again as soon as possible.
I thought that my parents would buy me one or two of the items on the list and I’d be the happiest grad student ever. But, no, my parents went crazy with the list. Maybe they feel bad that I’ve been and will be in a state of broke for so many years. Who knows? So, ice skates. That’s where this story leads us.
Yesterday was a fine Minnesotan Martin Luther King Junior birthday day. It had snowed a couple of inches Sunday night, the sun was shining in a way that it can only shine on a cold winter day, and I wanted to break in my new ice skates. I had taken an ice skating class in college (go BG!) and by the end of the class, everyone else was skating backwards, doing crossovers, jumps, and assorted other fun stuff, and I was still falling. Every single class. I would try to keep up with my classmates. But I’m just not athletic. Or, in this case, not gifted with balance.
This was amusing to my teacher. What’s with this girl? She does come to class. She does everything I ask her to do. But she just doesn’t get it. She’s so clumsy. And graceless. And balanceless.
Anyway, so on this fine January Minnesotan day, Biker Boy and I grabbed our skates and headed to Lake of the Isles for my first ever experience of ice skating on an outdoor rink. I think that Biker Boy thought I was exaggerating about how I took a class for an entire semester and still fell. He clearly thought that I was actually quite good and just being self-deprecating. Ha. The thing is, he’s seen me rollerblade. It’s not like I’m any good at that…so why would he think I had some heretofore unseen ice skating talent? It’s anyone’s guess.
We took a few laps around the rink. So far, so good. Then, my toe pick got caught and like that scene from The Cutting Edge, I did a D.B. Sweeney and ended up eating the ice. I picked myself up, brushed off the snow and kept skating. Biker Boy said, “ummm…you all right?” I shrugged and kept going. Then we skated for a few more minutes when he started talking about how his oldest brother is actually quite a good skater and because I wasn’t concentrating 100% on my balance, I fell again. This time I landed on my hip. On the pointy part. And it hurt. So we went home.
The pointy part of my hip was bleeding (bleeding!), people. All over my nice white long underwear. And my knees are, um, huge purple bruise masses. Oh, yeah.
I can’t wait to go out again as soon as possible.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Truth or Fiction
NGS: I dreamed you had died. I was crying a lot.
Biker Boy: How did I die?
NGS: I'm....not sure.
Biker Boy: Was it an open casket?
NGS: No. There was a picture of you on the casket. But it wasn't a picture I had seen of you before.
Biker Boy: Was I wearing glasses?
NGS: Yes, but it was a different picture from the one on the wall in your mom and dad's living room. I was in the back of the church. I was alone. Your mom was crying in front. Your sisters were there. But I was hiding from them all alone in the back.
Biker Boy: So this wasn't about me dying. It was because you were upset that they got to spend the holidays with me and you were stuck in a cornfield in Michigan.
NGS: It wasn't a cornfield!!
Biker Boy: How did I die?
NGS: I'm....not sure.
Biker Boy: Was it an open casket?
NGS: No. There was a picture of you on the casket. But it wasn't a picture I had seen of you before.
Biker Boy: Was I wearing glasses?
NGS: Yes, but it was a different picture from the one on the wall in your mom and dad's living room. I was in the back of the church. I was alone. Your mom was crying in front. Your sisters were there. But I was hiding from them all alone in the back.
Biker Boy: So this wasn't about me dying. It was because you were upset that they got to spend the holidays with me and you were stuck in a cornfield in Michigan.
NGS: It wasn't a cornfield!!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Channeling My Inner Carrie Bradshaw
Is it possible for someone to change? If someone has behaved poorly towards you and the ones you love in the not-too-distant past, if someone has behaved irresponsibly and sometimes cruelly, and if someone has shown no drive or ambition, can they change?
Are they more likely to change if there's a driving force for change? What if that catalyst is getting fired from a job? Or, they've been fired so many times that getting the axe is no longer a threat, what if their spouse leaves them? Or what if their spouse gets pregnant? What if their parents get into a horrible accident and they are charged with the caretaker role?
First of all, can they change? Second of all, even if they do change, will it be a permanent change? Is there anything that can be done to help nurture this change?
Are they more likely to change if there's a driving force for change? What if that catalyst is getting fired from a job? Or, they've been fired so many times that getting the axe is no longer a threat, what if their spouse leaves them? Or what if their spouse gets pregnant? What if their parents get into a horrible accident and they are charged with the caretaker role?
First of all, can they change? Second of all, even if they do change, will it be a permanent change? Is there anything that can be done to help nurture this change?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)