Regarding the movie Baby Mama

Dear Tina Fey and Amy Poehler

You guys are the best.

Even though everybody said Superbad was sexist, I still thought it was funny, and even though everybody said Knocked Up was funny, I still thought it was sexist... but in both cases (along with like, every other comedy ever made) the funny characters were male.

Hollywood has different rat packs of funny boys (Group 1: Owen Wilson, Vince Vaughn, Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller... Group 2: The Judd Apatow crew-- Jason Segel, Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, etc) but the girls in their movies are rarely funny (think every role Christine Taylor has ever played). At best you can get Kate Hudson playing quirky funny in a good summer rom com. But the female buddy comedy-- it basically doesn't exist.

I love(d) you both on SNL. When you hosted Weekend Update together? The best. You're like the Mia Hamm of funny.

The best part of all is how outspokenly feminist you guys are. Like when Amy was asked if you were a feminist, and without hesitation you answered, "Absolutely I am" and that you say things like ""I get worried for young girls sometimes; I want them to feel that they can be sassy and full and weird and geeky and smart and independent, and not so withered and shriveled."

I like the adjectives you used. Not just "girls should kick ass", but "sassy and full and weird and geeky and smart and independent." Amy, you're so awesome. Nice abs, btw. Also, Will Arnett is Canadian. Oh and I saw you do improv one time at UCB, and you're a smashing improviser. Nice work all around.

I love how you guys call things out. Like this interview:

Fey: It is a "Girls Gone Wild" generation. "Girls Gone Wild" did something. The idea of, like, let's get wasted and fake make out with each other to amuse this strange guy.

Poehler: I blame ["Girls Gone Wild" creator] Joe Francis for all of it.

Fey: Ladies, don't show your knockers to Joe Francis. Get your own camera, film your own knockers and get the money.

Poehler: We should start our own business where down-and-out women get their own money from showing their knockers. Being a girl this age, it would be a hard time, I think. A lot of mixed messages. A lot of "Be yourself" but a lot of "Be super skinny." "Save it until you're married . . ."

Fey: "But dress like a whore."

Poehler: And a lot of like, "Think about the world and be green, but buy a lot of stuff."

And I like that you sometimes wear dresses and have pretty hair, but that Tina has big ears and geeky glasses.

I loved Mean Girls (Tina's line "If women call each other sluts and whores, it makes it OK for guys to call them sluts and whores")

And I LOVED Baby Mama. I liked the opening scene ("Some women got pregnant, I got promotions") and pretty much every scene after that (when Tina's character is washing hair dye out of a sobbing Amy's hair, Amy's character says "You don't understand, you're a brunette!" "You're a brunette!" "But I was blonde as a child!").

What I'm saying is that I love you two. Make more movies; I promise I will see them. (Maybe write them yourself next time)

You're both the best!

Love Lisa

Things I found while packing

I'm moving out of my parents' house this week, so over the weekend I started packing up.

I of course have accumulated plenty of "store in a box in the basement" items. While boxing these items, I saw a box of stuff I had left behind when I moved out the first time (right after high school).

In addition to hilariously dated items like a Jar Jar Binks eraser and a floppy disk, I also found the my first calculator (circa grade 6 to first year university. It broke, but I couldn't part with it. That calculator has got some great memories), a ring made out of resistors (that I made when I visited Lin back when she was in university and I was in approximately grade 9. I remember sneaking into an electrical lab and being taught how to solder. What, you don't have a "first time soldering" memory?), the first CD I ever bought (Vitamin C!), and a box of pictures.

I now present to a peak into the life of lfar aged 11-14. Ready?

Summer camp!House league soccer!My grade 8 school picture!A cross country race in grade 9!I thought my braces were the coolest.

Big family misconceptions

While in the kitchen at work yesterday, I was talking to a friend about my family.

Guy I don't know who overheard: WOW! 9 kids? That's a lot!

Me: Yeah, I guess (I turn back to my conversation with my friend)

Him: That's so expensive! Did you like, grow up on a farm?

Me: Nope (again turn back to friend)

Him: Is that like, your older sister's old shirt?

Me: That's offensive. And no.

He sort of muttered an "I was kidding" then turned to talk to other people.

Alright.

1. What if it WAS a hand me down?

2. I'm not making assumptions about anybody else's finances... I don't know why people feel it's okay to assume things about mine.

I understand that many big families ARE super religious and/or under educated and/or really poor. But I mean, it would be totally gauche to see a black person and say "Hows your inner city basketball team doing" or to walk up to a woman and ask "I'm in the market for a new vacuum but I'm having difficulty choosing the best model. You look like an expert in that field- any advice?". I think asking somebody from a big family if they're wearing their sister's shirt is equivalently stereotypical.

I don't know. Am I getting worked up? Should I have laughed at this guy's poor attempt at humour instead of making him feel uncomfortable by calling him out?

If only metamucil had a catchy jingle!

Dress shopping is only fun if you go with fun people.

I'm in my sister's wedding party, and since there are so many girls (six!) she's decided that we can choose whatever dress style we want, as long as it's the right shade of yellow.

Dress 1

(no image on web, probably because there doesn't exist a model who would look good in it)

Aiye Carumba, freader. Considering the fact that I was surrounded by girls trying on dresses sized 20+ , you'd think I'd be feeling pretty slim in comparison. I was... for a second. Until this silky number made me regret every grain of sugar I've ever consumed.

This just in: silk isn't even pretty anyway, am I right?

Quote: "It's because I haven't pooped in a while! I'll just Metamucil it up for the week before the wedding" (Yes, Metamucil IS a verb.)

Dress 2

This is the one I had my eye on in the catalogue. Trying it on just made me want to plie a lot.

Unfortunately the 6 was too large (and they didn't have it in yellow anyway) and the 2 was definitely too small (spillage! that's a new one for me!). They didn't have a four in any colour, let alone yellow, and wouldn't until August (too late!)

Dress 3

This was my second favourite from the catalogue. However, 4 of the 6 girls had already chosen it, so I convinced myself it was a little too tutu-ish and plus it made me look like I was hiding a pregnancy (no really! Metamucil will fix that!)

Dress 4

I'm not a polka dot girl, I'm really not. But this one was just smashing!

I was a touch hesitant but Laura (the bride) subdued most of them by promising to bake me bran muffins. Then I thought it made my legs look a little stumpy, but with heels everything was fixed. (Ps. Speaking of shoes... the shoeru has answers!)

So I ordered dress 4! Hooray!

To finish, a list:

Things that Laura and I did in the Bridal store that probably only a select few would also do:

• Coming out of the change room, running to the mirror, and flexing. ("Nay, this one makes my arms look too normal. I need to look RIPPED")
• Continual talk of bowel movements and bran based products
  
• Singing the Genie's "Ain't never had a friend like me" song while doing arm contortion tricks
• Trying to convince our mom to buy a dress that she tried on that looked wonderful by calling her things like "Hot Mama" and "A Glamour Babe"
• Laughing uncontrollably at army-themed garters for about 5 minutes, even though we realized we were probably offending the entire store (hilarity #1: her fiance is pacifist, hilarity #2: army themed garters!)

Dress shopping: it's not so bad.

How to purchase illegal substances in the city of Toronto

While walking towards the subway last night, Alice, Owen, and I discussed what we'd like to spend our tax returns on. Some ideas that came up were: a futon, a vacation, tuition (you can guess which stick in the mud that came from), new clothes, a new laptop... etc.

Owen: What if I spent all the money I get back from the government on illegal things?

Alice: like exotic pets?

Me: I think he was thinking more along the lines of drugs...

Alice: a Komodo dragon?

Owen: I'd like to purchase a Komodo dragon full of cocaine!

Guy on the up-escalator as we're walking down the stairs: I CAN GET THAT FOR YOU!

Alice: ... really?

Guy on escalator (now almost out of sight): I'M FROM BRAZIL, I CAN DO IT!

Owen (to the guy): Uh, no thanks...

Alice: Are Komodo dragons indigenous to Brazil?

Me: Is getting cocaine THAT EASY?

Owen: Just use the word and somebody will offer it to you, basically

Guy from escalator (way out of sight): SERIOUSLY! LET ME KNOW!

Alice: That just happened.

Crushes are fun

I think this post is 20% inspired by spring fever and 80% from last week's The Office (I just watched it last night). SERIOUSLY: so good. I had to rewind scenes. So good. (My feelings about Jim are not unrecorded)

Having been single for almost a year now, I'm going to estimate that for 355 days of the year I'm very, "boys: who needs them?" and for 10 days I'm all, "boys: I want one. I want two! I want them ALL"

Today is one of latter, so I thought I'd make a list of the reasons why having a crush is fun (oh mercy, I can already tell this is going to get embarrassing)

• When you're trying to go to bed but your phone beeps and it's a flirty text from crush, so you reply, then try going to bed again, but your phone beeps again and it's a reply to your reply. And etc
• Oh, or the kind of text message that you receive when you're talking to somebody important and he's somewhere else across the room, and the text is something ridiculous- he's just trying to make you crack up at an inappropriate moment
• When you're in a group and there is one person in the group that you both dislike. So every time said individual says something stupid, you immediately look at each other and do "for actual?" eyes
• Playing on opposing teams for a contact sport (He plays left defense and since you play right forward, you're covering each other aggressively. This one is especially good when you're actually better at the sport than him. SUCKER!)
• When you can tell he's trying to show he cares
• When you can tell he's totally trying to play cool
• When his friends know all about you (I'm lame, I know)
• Nicknames (like G-money or K-dog) or being called an abbreviation of your last name
• Having new topics to daydream about in class (like appending his last name to all the first names you've ever considered giving your children, or imagining what type of house you'll buy together. Yes, I do this)
• Listening to a good song and realizing that it perfectly describes your dynamic (note: I've decided I am looking for a significant other to be the other half of my "twin high maintenance machines" from This Year by The Mountain Goats)
  
• Explaining yourself through percentages, Venn diagrams, and non-linear graphs drawn with fingers through the air and him saying "I get you!" instead of "what an adorable quirk" (KIDDING: this has never happened except for with Brianna and she's just not my dating type. Sorry, Bri)
• Footsies (alright, footsies is no longer fun. But remember grade 7? I LIVED for footsies)

Alright, I'm done. My sisters are going to make so much fun of me.

Science Punch: The Show

We (Science Punch) (Alice and I) are officially doing a show!

Next Friday. Holy Toledo, that's soon!

Pretty, Funny is another great duo comprised of two terrific girls. We've sort of made up a format that none of us have ever tried out or experimented with... so we're hoping it works out.

HB and Adam/Peter are in the first half, and then the second half has been proposed thusly:

PF/SP suggestion exploration for like 5 minutes
PF for 3 minutes
SP for 3 minutes
PF for 3 minutes
SP for 3 minutes
PF for 5 minutes
SP for 5 minutes
PF/SP altogether.

We're still discussing how connected we want it, and how we'll do our edits and stuff. I'm getting super excited.

I'll see if I can tape because I know that you, my rabid fanbase, will want to see it. Right?

To Do, To Re-do, To Never Do: Books Edition

Books to read that I've never read but feel like I should

1. Catch 22
2. The Great Gatsby
3. Animal Farm
4. I feel like I should read more Mordecai Richler
5. Time's Arrow (by Martin Amis)

Books to re-read because I liked them the first time, and it's been too long

1. The Importance of Being Earnest
2. Lord of the Flies
3. How I Paid for College: A Tale of Sex, Theft, Friendship, and Musical Theatre
   
4. The Artemis Fowl series
5. Ender's Game

Books to never read

1. Ulysses
2. Sweet Valley Twins
3. Anymore from that Shopoholic Series. I read the one about the baby and that was TOO MUCH. I want to slap that silly girl.
4. That Mattress Police book. Cripes.
5. Le Petit Prince

Funny things happen in cars

I knew I was going to have a fun 5 hour drive to Ottawa as soon as this happened:
Me: "Wow"
Steph (girl in picture): "Pretty much"

Things only improved when we saw the signs for the Jungle Cat World Zoo.With real jungle cats! (And a $15 entrance fee, so we just stood around the outside of the gates). This picture was taken mid-donkey bray.
In addition to wild jungle cats and donkeys, there also were monkeys, and fighting wolves. Also a license plate that said "SPECIES"

We couldn't believe our luck when we saw the signs for the reptile zoo!
Unfortunately there was nary a reptile in sight.

We did get to see lots of road kill though!

And that is my essay on what I did last week.

Sharon, we need to talk

Sharon,

I thought only good things could come of by suggesting we abolish the tradition of spending extravagant amounts of money on each other for Christmas gifts. To be honest, I suggested this because I had just spent the majority of my December budget on buying new speakers for my Civic and like, the entire Dave Matthew's collection (99 cents per song really adds up, FYI) and I just wanted a way to justify getting you those cubic zirconium earrings instead of diamonds like you had asked for. "Blah blah not buy into the whole consumerism thing blah blah what Christmas is really about blah blah," I had said. I thought it was cute how you got me snowboard goggles in solidarity with my "let's be thrifty" plan, even though I had mentioned wanting a season's pass to the slopes.

But whatev, I thought it made a good story. "Yeah, Sharon and I don't believe in blowing wads of cash," I announced to my broke and jealous friends. On what can almost be called a dare, I suggested we keep our little tradition going for Valentine's Day. You got me that v-neck sweater from the sale rack at American Eagle and I got you one ticket to some indie band nobody cares about.

Then, when for my birthday you just got me a sample size bottle of cologne from Axe (and I KNOW that Rite Aid was having a sale on colognes that week, missy), I thought we were taking this a bit far. I thought that by giving you the new Feist LP I'd be saying "let's not let this get any more absurd."

But you seem to relish in penny-pinching! Last Christmas you gave me a travel sized glasses repair kit, so I got you a ball of yarn and some Scarf Knitting 101 pages I printed off the internet in black and white.

The frugality did not stop there! For the next Valentine's Day I let you use my Amazon Prime account to get free shipping on any order, and you installed a Windows Update on my laptop for me.

Sharon, this, if not earlier, is when the line should have been drawn. We had asymptotically approached the FREE mark. We were giving the gift of making each other's lives slightly easier and/or cheaper. (Although I would like to take this moment to point out that the update corrupted the file of my half finished essay, and that you used free shipping on an order already greater than $25, so you would have received free shipping anyway.)

On my birthday you gave me an envelope. I thought it might be a written truce to our overly parsimonious present exchange. But no, it was a letter informing me that you had enrolled me in the military. I'd be getting a small salary, you pointed out. Not only were you saving me money, you were actually giving it to me.

So Sharon, now I am cold, wet, and miserable. I am sore and hungry. I think I am in Asia but one can never be sure. I hope this letter arrives on time for your birthday, or else you're going to be really surprised come the celebratory day when a limo pulls up telling you that I've planned something special. This limo is going to take you to the surgery ward of the hospital. I've sold all your internal organs and then donated your other remains to science. Surprise! (Surprise to me too, I didn't think this would be legal. Surprises all around, I guess!)

Happy Birthday, Sharon.

Prudently yours,

PFC Chris Wayne
United States Armed Forces

Stuff lfars like

(This post was written by my sister Lindsay!)

I just finished reading the list of things White People Like, and was inspired to create my own list of things the L-Fars (there are 3 of us...Lindsay, Laura & Lisa) like. I don't know whether it's nature or nurture or whatever, but we sure have a lot of stuff in common. Without further ado, the top 5...

1. Boring Food.

We have the same food preferences as most 5-year-olds. You couldn't pay us a million bucks to eat tuna, or shrimp. or mayonnaise or sour cream, or onions or indian food or the fatty part on meat or anything slimy or...well, really, I could go on forever. We have strategies for different dinner party scenarios...the old napkin trick, or feeding your food to an ally (preferable a boy or dog) quick while no one's watching. But Laura went to China for 4 months and she was eating hot pot by the end, cow guts and all. And after four years in California I will gobble up mexican food, straight from the Taqueria. Progress! [Lisa's note: I do like Indian food! Some, at least. The deep fried stuff]

2. Polo Shirts.

I have a few of these, which is completely normal, I think. Except I have the EXACT same ones as Laura, and we didn't even plan it. And Lisa has them too, due to the fact that she has every polo shirt in the world. Bizarre, since they really aren't in style anymore. A chromosomal abnormality, to be sure.

3. Talking About Having Good Hair

We often share tricks and tips about products that will give you great hear. And techniques that will get rid of frizz. And who has really nice hair, and how it would be so great if we had personal hairstylists, just like Mary-kate and Ashley. And we do all this talking with ponytails in our hair, each one of us. Because while we would really like to have nice hair, ugh, who can be bothered.

4. Movies Featuring Girls Playing Sports/Kicking Ass

We all have A League of Their Own memorized. We also love Blue Crush, Ladybugs, GI Jane, Girl Fight, Chicks with Sticks, etc. Based on my movie preferences, Netflix has now starting recommending a lot of lesbian films for me. Hellooo! Those movies aren't just for lesbians! They are for everyone! They are awesome! Cinematic wonders! So there.

5. Diet Coke

Okay, so everyone likes diet coke, but we REALLY like it. We call it BG, short for black gold, and once it gets flowing, we are ready to party. My mom says "that stuff will give you cancer all over", so I've tried to cut back, but it is just so darn good. Laura and Lisa have gotten into the 'with Lime' variety, but I'm sticking to the classic.

The Running Grammys

I'm Stephanie! I'm normally in my own corner of the earth in New York City, but thought it would be fun to take a quick jaunt to Canada today while Lisa is improv-ing her little heart out.

Lisa and I have discovered through a number of emails, blog comments and Gchats that we are twins. Seperated at birth and by nearly four years, we must be fraternal twins I suppose. We both love mint chocolate chip ice cream, Journey and free food. Most importantly, we share a love for running.

Some people don't understand.

Why would you want to run?
I only run if I'm being chased, har har!
Running is so BOOO-RING!

But we do it not only for the exercise, but for the independence, the feeling of accomplishment, the challenge. The feeling I get as I sprint to the finish line literally gives me chills.

So in honor of Lisa, the triathlon extraordinaire, I thought I'd honor some of the more interesting moments of recent races (I SWEAR running is interesting!) with the first annual Rammys (Running Grammys?)/Remmys (Running Emmys?)/Roscars (Running Oscars?).

Most Disgusting: This award goes to the gentleman who continued to pass gas for over a mile on an uphill section where heavy breathing was necessary for survival. Said gas smelled like a combination of dog excrement and Porta-Potty, and no fewer than 6 people in the surrounding area had to cover their noses in agony, myself included. This is a difficult situation to address, however. We were in an open area, yet many runners were downwind of the offender. Are there regulations on gas passing during races?

Most Awkward: At a recent race in New York City honoring Scotland, the country of my heritage, an older gentlemen (perhaps mid-60s?) decided that running shorts and a t-shirt were not necessary. Instead, he wore a royal blue thong, complete with a large white X across the front to look like the Scottish flag. Before I realized he was wearing the flag on his private parts, I thought, X marks the spot? At any rate, hats off, I mean, PANTS off to him for winning this award.

Most Effort Given to Emulate Spirit of the Race: This award must be given to the gentleman who painted his face, his chest and his legs in the blue and white Scottish flag. In addition to the paint, he wore a gigantic Scottish flag around his neck and attached a smaller flag on a stick to his hat. I wonder if he is actually Scottish?

Sweatiest/Brightest Red Face: I win this award by a long shot. Sweat beads start forming on my upper lip less than half a mile into the race, in mostly any weather conditions. My face is usually nearly purple when I cross the finish line. I definitely take the cake.

Most Inspiring: At a 4 mile race recently, I looked over about halfway through the race and I noticed two men tied together at the wrist with a short rope. I looked up at the men's faces and noticed one of them. His eyes looked open, but I could tell that they didn't see what lay before him. He was blind. His partner was guiding him through the race. I got chills seeing this man who couldn't see his footing, couldn't see anyone in front of him, couldn't anticipate the next hill. I was amazed at his faith in his partner, to keep pace with him, to guide him around slower runners, to let him know when a hill was approaching. The two were awe-inspiring, and if a blind man can do it, anyone can.

So, the joys of running (minus the gas). Have I convinced you yet?

What not to do

Hi. I'm not Lisa. I'm Brianna, but you might not notice because Lisa and I are essentially the same person. We're both geeky and funny and adorably cute and terribly inept when it comes to boys. Oh sure, I'm much older and I work out way less and I'm much less picky about food -- but deep down? Same person. So much so that I had to nix the idea of a "Things to Hate About Lisa" post (to counter all of the guest blogging ass kissing around these parts) because I feel pressured to like her just to prove that I have decent self esteem. This is all very bad news for Lisa.

I recently told a boy who I'm generally interested in kissing in a fit of feelings that Lisa reminds me of myself and that it makes me want to encourage her to resist all Brianna-like impulses when it comes to dating. He suggested I make a list of things to do and then retitle it "Things Not To Do" and then give it to her. This is probably a bad sign as far as my own dating potential goes (especially with this particular boy who was all to willing to quickly agree that I make a lot of bad choices.) but is also really good advice for Lisa: Please stop being like me, it is not a good idea. Not that she'd listen. But just in case I present the following first entry in what will hopefully be an ongoing series of guest blog posts (see how I turned this into a promising ongoing opportunity for exposure? Lisa would appreciate that, she loves rocking the personal brand.).

Things Lisa Should Not Do #1

Lisa and I both struggle with the ridiculousness that is dating and in an attempt to feel in control do things like make graphs to convince ourselves that life (and more importantly boys) are predictable. In addition to to obsessive graphing I have fallen into a somewhat troubling pattern with faced with uncertainty. Instead of accepting that I can't control the world and embracing the element of surprise that makes life extra spicy I force myself to quantify the likelihood of all possible outcomes. When I'm walking down the long cooridor near the office that leads from the street down to the subway and I hear the distinct rumble of a train in the distance I watch the people around me sprint down the path in hopes of covering the roughly 500 yards and 2 flights of stairs to shove their bodies in between the "stand clear of the closing" doors before the train departs. Rather than run without reason (something Lisa does all of the time for reasons I will never fathom) I find myself thinking, "Ok, so 50% chance that the train we hear is going in the wrong direction, 20% chance that I will end up sweaty and winded only to miss the train anyway, 10% chance that I'll trip and kill myself on the way down the stairs. So really only a 20% chance that I'll catch the train. Totally not worth it." Similarly when faced with the never ending "does he like me?" question I turn to odds. So talking to me post dates (which Lisa makes the mistake of doing all too often) is something like this:

"Great! 85% he loves me forever, 5% he thinks I'm too good for him, 10% he hates me but hasn't realized it yet."
"Lame! 20% he's nervous about how awesome I am, 40% he wants to dump me, 10% he saw his exgirlfriend this past weekend and realized she had a cuter ass than me, 30% he was dating me as a joke and just found out his friend can't even afford to pay out on the bet."

This numerical break down helps me feel like less of a pawn in the awful system that we call dating. Of course it's all made up crap... but made up crap feels so much more reassuring when there are numbers involved. So why shouldn't Lisa adopt a similar left brained approach to love? Well obviously I have no idea. It seems like an AWESOME idea to me --it makes me feel in control, it makes me seems satisfyingly quirky (which, in theory, boys LOVE but again, what do i know?) and it is amusing to others -- win/win/win, right? But here I am, 30, single, constantly fucking things up and so..we must assume that all of my ideas are BAD. So, Lisa -- step away from the math, it's bad news.

Guest Blogging [Attempt] from Frogster

The Frogster here. So, Lisa says she's going away for a week or so and asks if I wouldn't mind putting something up on her blog. I ask her if she pays attention to how much I actually update my own blog, and she's all "Oh, come on. Pleeeeze?" I say okay. Then she emails me back and I'm like, "Cool!"

So I take all this time and put together this killer post and I send it to her, and she doesn't dig it.

Lisa: Um, I'm not sure you sent me the right thing.

Me: What?

Lisa: Um, it, it didn't seem like, um, the kind of thing I'd put on my blog.

Me: I thought that's what you asked for!

Lisa: When?

Me: In your last email, dude! I thought that you wanted an exposition about the Three Gorges Dam and the advantages of hydroelectric power! It was the last thing you wrote!

Lisa: You mean "YR?"

Me: Yeah. You're an engineering student, see, so I figured you meant "Yangtze River."

Lisa: Um... Hold on.

(pause)

Lisa: I just surfed over to your blog and I see you have your 20th high school reunion coming up. Wow. That's like three quarters as long as I've been alive.

Me: Yes, ha ha. Aren't you cute?

Lisa: I mean, you're like almost old enough to be my dad.

Me: Okay, you're getting less cute by the second. Now, what does that have to do with the Yangtze River?

Lisa: It explains our miscommunication. "YR" means "You Rock."

Me: How on earth am I supposed to know that?

Lisa: Everybody knows that! Um... everybody-

Me: Everybody who isn't a thousand years old?

Lisa: Yeah, pretty much. Do you text?

Me: No. I mean, why spend like five minutes typing "I'll be home at eight. What about you?" when I can just call and say "I'll be home at eight. What about you?" which takes a fraction of the time?

Lisa: Well, see, that's what the abbreviations are for. Like you could text "Home 8. U?"

Me: So you just abbreviate the words or use phonetic spellings?"

Lisa: Yeah.

Me: NIUWYTTE

Lisa: Okay, see. I don't have any idea what that is supposed to mean.

Me: It means, "Now I Understand What You're Trying To Explain."

Lisa: Ah. Um, the person who you're sending it to needs to at least have a clue what you're talking about.

Me: Well, I'm not learning a second language just to post something on your blog. Forget that. Let's see... dating! You post about your nonexistent love life sometimes. I mean, you do. No offense.

Lisa: Uh, yeah. None taken.

Me: How about dating tips for the swingin' single?

Lisa: Um, when was the last time you actually dated someone besides your wife?

Me: 1989. Do chicks still dig guys in parachute pants?

Lisa: (Silence)

Me: I've got a maroon pair with 13 zippers!

Lisa: Please, just stop. My blog readers don't want to read about a 38-year-old guy in maroon parachute pants.

Me: They don't? Are you sure?

Lisa: Oh, I'm sure.

Me: Okay, how about relationships? I've been with the same woman for 19 years.

Lisa: Hmm. That is pretty cool. What did you have in mind?

Me: I don't know. Whatever the magazines at the supermarket that tell girls they're too fat talk about.

Lisa: They talk about sex a lot.

Me: Cool! Hey, are you into-

Lisa: Whoa! This is a family blog.

Me: Fine. If we can't talk about- hey, that's it! Communication!

Lisa: That sounds kind of boring.

Me: No, no. It will be cool. Okay, ready, Lise? I can call you Lise, right? You said your pals call you Lise. We're pals, right?

Lise: Sure.

Me: Right on, babycakes. Now then-

Babycakes: Babycakes?

Me: Hey, chill. We're all pals, here. I'm a guy, and guys like to use nicknames, like "buddy" or "pal." It just means we're friends.

Babycakes: Fine.

Me: Cool. Hey there, schnookiepie-

Schnookiepie: Schnookiepie? Look. This is stupid. Why are we playing "Bad pick up lines?" No one who reads my blog wants to read that.

Me: We are not playing "Bad pick up lines." We are practicing our NONVERBAL COMMUNICATION. With guys, see, you need to pay attention. It's not just the words, it's how we say the words. We want you to ask how we are doing. We want you to pick up on the things we AREN'T saying. Now, look into my eyes. Look past the babycakes. Past the schnookiepie. Deeper. What do my eyes tell you?

Schnookiepie: I don't know. They're all bloodshot.

Me: Yeah, I started writing a tune and I wanted to finish it before I went to bed. And now I've got to write a blog post for you in like ten minutes.

Schnookiepie: Well, I hope you can come up with something good.

Me: I'll do my best. What do you expect, asking me last minute like this?

Schnookiepie: Dude, I asked you like three weeks ago!

Me: Wonderful example of how not to communicate, schnookiepie. I hope your readers are paying attention. This is how a lovers' spat gets started. You're not thinking about my needs.

Schnookiepie: Lovers' spat? Look, I just want someone to write a funny post so that people don't forget about my blog while I'm away! That's all! This is ridiculous! Lovers' spat! Parachute pants! Babycakes!

Me: Okay, fine. If you're not willing to communicate, just forget it.

Lisa Recommends...

Asics running socks.
Comfortable for running. Additionally, feet stink levels will be minimized if even you "accidentally" wear these to the gym to days in a row.

Reading Charlotte's Web to somebody little.
Is a good book. Little people are cute. Win win.

Hazlenut Hot Chocolate.
From Starbucks. The small size is almost definitely enough. Tasty, but sort of leaves you thirsty. Do not drink if already thirsty.

Not reading celebrity gossip magazines for 48 hours straight.
You'll find you actually get to bed on time, and you'll have a moment of self realization wherein you discover you don't actually care about Rihanna. (Ed note: recommend you work up to the 48 hour stretch. Start with 5 and increase slowly)

Make up from The Body Shop.
Particularly blush. Will make you beautiful. Also, a good use of the 10% off all purchases for a year card that you bought for $10 but have only used once on a $30 purchase. Recommend spending at least $70 at The Body Shop before next February.

Not behind dehydrated.
Pro: You'll poop regularly.
Con: You'll pee really regularly.

The Mountain Goats.
Will make you nostalgic for summertime in NYC, but only if you got really into them last summer while you lived in NYC, and haven't listened to them in a while since then.

Sweet dreams, Dracula!

Last night as I was doing dishes (our stupid dishwasher is broken), a pyjama clad Jack wandered into the kitchen.

Jack: How do people become vampires?

A sensible parent would remind him that vampires aren't real. They would kiss his head and give him a drink of water then send him back to bed. I am not a sensible parent. (Note to new readers: I am not a parent at all. Jack is my brother)

Me: When another vampire bites them.

Jack: yeah but like, then they just turn into a vampire right away? How do they get the clothes? Do they have to run to the store before it closes to get a cape or something?

Me: Vampires don't really dress like that. That's just in movies. In real life, vampires look the same as regular people. They just have fangs.

Jack: and sharp nails?

Me: And sharp nails. Fangs and nails. Then slowly their skin starts to turn whiter and whiter, and their hair turns blacker and blacker.

Jack: Oh, I get it! ... Vampires don't really exist, do they?

Me: Yeah they do!

Jack: Yeah, but like, not in Canada, right?

Me: Well, I don't think I've ever seen one, but Canada is a nice place for anybody. Do you believe in vampires?

Jack: tsk, NO [like that's the stupidest question ever asked]

Me: Do you believe in ghosts?

Jack: uh, NO [again with the attitude]

Me: Do you believe in werewolves?

Jack: yeah, obviously! [as if I just asked if his name is Jack]

Me: yeah? How do you know?

Jack: uh, Professor Lupin?

For non-HP readers, Prof Lupin is a professor at Hogwarts (and is also a werewolf)

Me: Oh yeah, you're right! Okay, bedtime!

Dirty Brits* Strike Again

I think I love taking pictures.Some friends wanted to do a photo shoot (to submit some pictures for this ad contest), so I offered to take the pictures. We only had a small rectangle of white space so it was kind of tricky to find the picture... plus the camera started to run out of batteries so we had to move fast.

I don't understand lighting but I'm suddenly interested in learning.

I just got so into it. Calling out poses, or like "tilt your chin up" or "relax your eyebrows a bit"

The whole shoot can be found here.

*Dirty Brits = my official photography company (with Steph). Official? you ask suspiciously? Why yes, and if you don't believe me, look at all our legit comments around the site!