Does That Make Me Crazy Or, That Shit Cray…

I’m not really a huge fan of Someecards. I get it – they’re edgy and funny but after seeing them slapped up everywhere online, I’m just kind of over the whole thing.

But this one actually hit home:

I recently learned that more people than just Paps read this blog (sidebar: Ha ha! You have to love me because I’m your kid!) and these people actually voluntarily spend time with me.

Like, they talk to me and call me and hang out with me and sometimes, we engage in the joint quantum inhalation of carbs.

It’s pretty spectacular, actually.

I figured embracing the cray was the way to go here. Like, just get all up in there and cuddle with it.

If you still love me after reading this, I’m making you a mix CD. And some sort of delicious food item that isn’t a baked good.

Five Admissions Of Batshittery:

1. I hate having my in-betweens touched. That flesh in between your digits? Ugh. It disgusts me out to no end and I get irrational and panicky whenever anyone attempts it.

When Augs and I first started dating, he found out about this little quirk and thought it would be funny to squish the in-betweens on my feet.

My reaction was panic, tears and almost kicking him in the face.

Let me reiterate – I almost kicked the man I love in the face because he touched my foot.

Hooray for rationality.

(No, I have no idea why he loves me either. I make good cornbread. That could be it…?)

2. I want a fox as a pet. I read Fantastic Mr. Fox as a child one too many times and now, Adult Jaime thinks it would be peachy keen to have a wild canine as house pet.

This is a terrible idea for numerous reasons (the primary one being that it’s a feral dog) but every time I see one darting across the road, I think, “I could steal you and take you home and name you Nicholas and LOVE YOU FOREVER.”

Also, last time I saw a dead fox on the side of the road, I was inconsolable for a good ten minutes. Ten minutes is a really long time to fixate on roadkill, y’all.

In my defense, though? They’re really damn cute. See?

His. Little. Paws.

3. I don’t wash my face at the bathroom sink because I live in perpetual fear that I’ll look up and Michael Myers will be right behind me, staring at me in the mirror.

I am scared of being brutally murdered by a fictional psychopath.

4. I really, really, really love songs where the singer whispers lyrics. For example, when Brian Fallon whispers, “If you just do this for me” in Black Betty & The Moon by The Horrible Crowes – I just want to buy him things. Expensive things. Like goldtop Gibsons. And vintage cars.

If you want me to do something for you/want me to fall for you like a bag of hammers, whisper to me. It’s effective…unless I can’t hear you in which case, I’ll just yell “What?!” a lot, end up getting annoyed and shooting you the death glare all evening – “Asshole. What? You’re too good to enunciate, Mumbles?”

Oddly enough though, Wait (The Whisper Song) by the Ying Yang Twins scares the hell out of me.

5. I talk to myself constantly.

Constantly.

In the car (“Dude bro, a turn signal is a thing in this world”), grocery shopping (“Do I need garlic? I probably need garlic. Not too much, though because what am I gonna do with it once it starts sprouting? Can you use it once it’s sprouting?”), while watching TV (“Ugh! I hate you, Voodoo! You don’t call the plays! Coach calls the plays!”).

Once, I even scared a small child at the farmer’s market. I was muttering underneath my breath about raspberries versus blackberries when I catch him giving me a terrified look. I smiled at him and said, “Oh, I’m not crazy. I just talk to myself sometimes.”

Which is exactly what a crazy person would say.

So yeah — totes cray, right?

But – it’s the Good Crazy as opposed to the Boil-Your-Bunny Cray and I’m embracing it.

Y’all aren’t gonna be hanging out with me so much anymore, right?

Yeah. Just checking…

50 Reasons I Love America Or, Yeah, My Entire Life Consists of Ripping Off Esquire

I love Esquire Magazine. I’m not really their key demo (XX chromosome and all) but hey, good writing is good writing and it transcends gender.

They recently did a feature on the 162 Reasons It’s Great to be an American Man. I agreed with a lot of it (#2, #12, #30, #94, #122, #144) and started thinking about all the reasons I love this country.

I’m not an American (yet) but I am wholly mesmerized by this place — it’s all open roads and guitar solos and opportunity and taking disgusting gourds and turning them into delicious pies.

So, in a nod to my favorite publication and the land I love, here are 50 Reasons I Love America:

1. The First Amendment – Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

2. Shane Black writing, “The kind of house that I’ll buy if this movie is a huge hit. Chrome. Glass. Carved wood. Plus an outdoor solarium: A glass structure, like a greenhouse only there’s a big swimming pool inside. This is a really great place to have sex,” in the Lethal Weapon script.

3. Sitting at Citizens Bank Park on a warm summer afternoon with crab fries on your lap and beads of condensation from a cold Bud Light sweating all over your hand. Phil Collins’ In The Air Tonight blasts through the stadium and you get excited ’cause you know that Carlos Ruiz is up to bat and you get to scream ‘CHOOCH’ at the top of your lungs without anyone thinking you’re insane/a foul-mouthed pervert.

4. The Great Gatsby.

5. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band live. Especially when Brother Bruce takes the pulpit.

6. The 1972-1973 Miami Dolphins, Don Shula and the Right Hand of God also known as Dan Marino.

7. Bluecoat Gin and Tonic with lots of lime.

8. The Hollywood sign, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Smurfit Stone building, the Lincoln Memorial, Mount Rushmore, the Space Needle.

9. Batman’s Rogue’s gallery.

10. Blue jeans, white t-shirts, Chuck Taylors and aviator sunglasses.

11. Southern rock, Motown soul, Appalachian bluegrass, East Coast hip-hop, Miami bass, SoCal punk, Chicago blues, zydeco and Chicano rock.

12. Barbecue smoke.

13. Reef leather flip flops

14. “If you go home with someone and they don’t have any books, don’t fuck ‘em” — John Waters.

15. When I Heard The Learn’d Astronomer by Whitman, Howl by Ginsberg, There’s A Bluebird In My Heart by Bukowski, For Jane by Bukowski. Barfly by Bukowski. Actually, pretty much Bukowski’s whole catalog.

16. Back To The Future

17. Lisa Vs. Malibu Stacy (The Simpsons), The Dinner Party (Seinfeld), The Constant (Lost), In Exelsis Deo (The West Wing)

18. The smell of the Atlantic Ocean at Lake Worth Beach.

19. Senator Robert Kennedy, Senator Patrick Leahy, Mayor Cory Booker, President Barack Obama

20. The implicit understanding that all sandwiches must be accompanied by some potato-based side.

21. Southern men who say ‘darlin’

22. Fender Stratocasters.

23. Hell in a Call Cage Match between The Undertaker and Mankind.

24. The iPod. Hey, you know every song that you’ll ever want to listen to ever? It fits in the back pocket of your jeans and you can listen to it whenever you want.

25. Security in the knowledge that right now, there is a diner open where the waitresses call you ‘hon’, the hash browns are crispy and the coffee is hot, bottomless and served in those thick, ceramic mugs.

26. “Hey! How are you?” – Six years ago, my sister and I were in London. We popped into Marks and Spencers to grab a bottle of water and headed to the check-out. When it was our turn, we stepped up and smiled at the cashier — “Hey! How are you?” Typical, right? Everyone does this because….well, it’s what you do. I think the cashier would have been less shocked had I pulled out a snub-nosed .38 and held up the place.

27. Joss Whedon, Bill Hicks, Tina Fey, Rob Sheffield, Matt Taibbi, Brad Bird, Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorcese, Ken Burns, Mel Brooks, Bill Simmons, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert.

28. Primo Hoagies Veggie Diablo with bruschetta, no long hots. You can’t get a sandwich this good anywhere but America. Hell, you might not be able to get a sandwich this good anywhere but the Mid-Atlantic. It is glorious.

29. Sesame Street. If you’re under 40, this show taught you how to read, write and count. Also, if you don’t love muppets – I don’t love you.

30. “Smart girls have more fun and you’re one of them,” – Aaron Sorkin. See also: The Bartlet administration, Matt and Danny and, “I love writing but I hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says. ‘You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, giftless. I’m not your agent and I’m not your mommy, I’m a white piece of paper, you wanna dance with me?’ and I really, really don’t. I don’t want any trouble. I’ll go peaceable-like.”

31. Muscle cars – all gleaming chrome and butter-soft leather.

32. Stevie Ray Vaughan. His music settles deep down in my bones and after listening to an album or two, I get angry. Like, irrationally infuriated. Stevie Ray Vaughan should not be dead. He should be an old man with graying hair and soft, crinkled smile. He should be crafting blues music so tasty, so drippingly delicious, you need a biscuit to sop it all up. But he’s not and that’s a goddamn tragedy. BUT, despite it all — the music lives. Fate is a malicious bitch goddess but even she can’t take away the music.

33. Public libraries.

34. USPS. You can send a letter from San Francisco to Brooklyn for like, $0.44. How does this not amaze more people?

35. Central Park in summer, the Philly suburbs in the fall, South Florida at Christmas.

36. Brian Fallon’s tattoos

37. Tex-Mex cuisine.

38. Carl Sagan

39. Grams — she makes you breakfast potatoes and dessert, gives you hugs and tells you she loves you.

40. Boston Terriers

41. Boston accents. Particularly Matt Damon’s in Good Will Hunting.

42. “Got to got to, na na na. Got to got to na na na” — the scatting in Otis Redding’s Try A Little Tenderness is unmitigated joy.

43. NASA.

44. Cinnamon-flavored gum.

45. The American Brown Bear. It can swim, it can climb, it eats pretty much everything and one swipe of the paw will end your life. If the Zombie Apocalypse comes and it turns the bears, we are beyond screwed,

46. Everything Bagels

47. Food trucks.

48. The way Axl says, “Oh My God…” in the beginning of Welcome To The Jungle.

49. Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

50. Americans. A vast majority of the people I’ve met here are good people. They’re kind, warm and quick to laugh. More often than not, they’re down to grab a bite, hear your stories and share theirs. And above all, they’re hopeful. And with good reason. I mean, look at the bedrock of their nation — believe in whatever you wish, speak your mind and if you don’t like the way things are going – you have the power to change it and make it better.

There’s a lot wrong in America and to believe otherwise is delusional and does a massive disservice to the nation. However, the spirit of America is indomitable. Americans believe in the prospect of a brighter, better tomorrow and from what I’ve seen, they want to work towards that reality. I know I quote it all the time, but when it comes to America, Fitzgerald said it best — “Tomorrow, we will stretch out our arms farther, run faster and one fine day….”

The End Is Extremely Effing Nigh Or, No. Not At All, Dudes. Not. At. All.

Two weeks ago at work, I got this odd little envelope in the mail – No point of contact and the return address was the same as the mailing address (despite the fact that the postmark indicated it had been mailed in a city over 40 miles away).

So, I open it up.

(If real life was anything like the movies, I’d be the moron who dies in the cold open thus launching the Jack Bauer-esque antics to follow).

Good news – it’s not anthrax.
Bad news – it’s even more annoying than a neurotoxin.

It’s a business card proclaiming the END IS NIGH from some batshit organization that’s batting about .0000 in the prophecy department. About fifteen years ago, they predicted the second coming of Christ and to the surprise of pretty much no-one, they were wrong.

However, if it turns out that these screwballs are right and the world really is ending on Saturday, I am going to be super pissed for the following reasons:

- Totally screws up my vacation plans. How’s a girl supposed to dip her toes in the Pacific if it doesn’t exist anymore?
- I won’t get to see Hermione finally kiss Ron. Come on, nerds. You know you’ve been waiting for it as well.
- Football won’t finally coming home to England in 2014 (shut up, McGillis. It could happen)
- I won’t get to spend quality time with my sister eating Primo Hoagies and Capogiro gelato, crafting and watching truly terrible reality television.
- And speaking of reality television, I won’t get to see Adam kicked off the new Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I’m calling it now. His antics might fly with Nany, but CT will straight up house the dude.
- I’m pretty sure Rob Sheffield has another book in him.
- I won’t get to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in concert again. It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to spiritual, so I figure it’s important that I see them again. For the sake of my eternal soul.
- I haven’t eaten fried avocado tacos in Austin, Texas yet.
- Cabin in Woods will never, ever be released. For really real this time.

So, fingers crossed the world doesn’t end on Saturday. But if it does – heathen afterparty at my house? You bring the chips, I’ll make the salsa?

I Used To Be With It But Then They Changed What It Was Or, Yeah, I Don’t Get That…

Things I Don’t Get:

- Wearing leggings as pants. Dudes, leggings are not pants. If they were, they’d be called pants.
- Why people think Michele Bachman is a viable presidential candidate.
- Yogurt. It has zero textural integrity, often tastes like artificial fruit and it never fills you up. You eat a pot of the stuff and then five minutes later, you’re ravenous again. Yogurt is stupid unless featured in Eight Layer Mediterranean Dip.

- SillyBandz. Note the look of utter confusion on my face as my sister tries to show me what is supposed to be a bird of some sort. Why is this a thing? Why do children treasure/hoard these things? The only person who looked good in jelly bracelets was Madonna circa 1985.
- Charlie Sheen’s popularity. Why are we rewarding an abusive, egomaniacal douche? This is why we can’t have nice things, America. Because we’re a nation that hangs on Charlie Sheen’s every word but would rather drive a Phillips Head Screwdriver in our eyeball before listening to a physicist or oceanographer.
- Why Dramarama wasn’t huge in the 80s.
- Why Jennifer Aniston keeps making crappy rom-coms, the appeal of Megan Fox and why there are magazine covers dedicated to the poor decision-makers of Teen Mom.