So Many Things to Love, Part 1

So, this morning, while walking to work in the 19 (feels like -1) degree weather, I started thinking about last year. Last September, as I'm sure most of you know, I was laid off from my job and spent the winter of 2009-2010 unemployed. And I'm not gonna lie to you, it was great. On days when it felt like -1 degrees outside I would just stay in. Or go do some Forrest Yoga where I would sweat my face off, and then come home, shower, and take a nap. Or I would go babysit and get to cuddle with a little schmunkin like this dude...

COOPER!!!!!!!!!! I miss you so.

I know for most people being unemployed is/was terrible. But for me, it was heaven. But here's the thing, I remembered while getting on the T: I am grateful to have a job. I am grateful to have a place to go where it is warm and where I am not unhappy. I am grateful I don't hate my boss like I did at all my other jobs. I am grateful that I can work and be paid for it. Because we all have to have jobs. Some of us get to have jobs we love, and some of us are administrators, but the thing is we have to work. And wouldn't it be great if I could magically make a full time salary while sitting around in my bed taking naps? 

Well, duh. 

But it isn't going to happen.

So, the point is I feel glad today at the place I am at in my life. Which is a much different feeling then I had a couple months ago. My jobs pays for me (and my therapy), and I have been blessed with being loved by a plethora of people who I respect and cherish. People who I love so much sometimes I feel moved to tears. People with whom I can communicate freely, and people who find my over-abundance of feelings charming (or so I hope), instead of slightly annoying and melo-dramatic as others might.And I suppose I do wish there were some additions to my life, but I don't think I would give up anything I have now to have the new things.

So it's the Holidays or whatever. And one of the things I love is making lists. So what I would like to do right now is make a list of all the things I feel grateful for during this holiday season, even if I think the idea that we should only be grateful for things during the holidays is lamesauce concentrate.

Here goes...

1. My Mom, Dad and Brother

2. My peops (DUH)

3. Dogs (especially Admiral Reginald Wigglesworth, who will be mine next year)

 

4. French Toast (with lots of butter and minimal syrup)

5. The Muppets (especially Gonzo)

6. Summer (specifically nights spent on porches)

7. Hipster music (and Kanye too)

8. My health (and all my present and working limbs)

9. Down Blankets (that you wrap around you like a burrito)

10. The Office (cause that show is just sweet)

11. Dancing on dance floors when nobody else is dancing (usually with Haimisch or PenPen)

12. Dancing to 80s music in Dee and Heather's house at Dee's b-day party with Mologna and Dee and EQ

13. Dancing until my feet hurt at Whits' Wedding

14. Random gifts given just because

15. Fleece-lined hoodies (I don't own one, but someday...)

16. The fingerless glove mitten things

15. My iPhone (because it is the one thing in life that is as awesome as it is advertised to be)

16. Hugs

17. Hugs

18. Hugs

19. My job (see above)

 20. Burdicks Hot Cocoa (liquid chocolate FTW)

21. Lunches with EJB (best part of number 19)

22. Hand Lotion (I have a cracked knuckle on my thumb)

23. Fingertip bandaids (Cause it's hard to get regular band aids to stay on your fingertip)

24. Groupons 

25. Indian Food

That's all I got.

Well... for now anyway.

Brussel Sprouts

Hi friends. It's been a while. I could waste time apologizing but I have too many feelings for that.

Oh man. Even looking at them makes me salivate. You cut those babies in half, olive oil, garlic, sea salt, roast that crap in the oven, DONE. Last night my friend Nicole (Empress of All Things Awesome) made two large dishes of brussel sprouts. I almost pooped my pants I was so happy. And she sent me home with some of those little nuggets of joy.

Since it's been a while, I would also like to share that I love this man:

OK. So he's a douchebag. But I can't stop listening to his new album. I actually think it has improved my self-esteem to listen to it, because sometimes, while listening to it, I imagine I am black and that has always been my dream. I maintain I was born the incorrect race. So, while listening to the album I imagine I am black and that makes me feel better about myself.

 While I'm on the subject of being awesome and African-American I'd like to discuss this woman:

She is the best singer on Glee. Yeah, Rachel is good. But Mercedes is better. And she has gotten the SHAFT this season. She sang that Florence + the Machine song this week (which, BTW, if I had a blog of things I thought were all right but felt slightly indifferent towards Florence + the Machine would be featured) but come on! Give the girl something she can sing that crap out of, for Christ's sake.

Also, what's with her not getting a boyfriend when EVERY OTHER GIRL on the show has one? I think Ryan Murphy is a size-ist. I think Mercedes doesn't have a boyfriend because she is big. But this blog is not called, "Things that Piss me the F*** Off." This blog is not called "Rant about TV shows that I love cause they have singing and dancing and in the first season were awesome but now are slightly mediocre and are terribly written and have plots that make no sense." This blog is about things I love.

So I will end on a happy note.

The Empress of all Things Awesome got a pole in her apartment. Like a pole-dancing pole. And she swings around it like a sexy monkey. And when my shoulder gets better, I am going to learn how to swing around it like a sexy monkey too. And then I am going to invite Mercedes to come swing around the pole with me. And Dee's manatees. And Dee and Heather in their wetsuits. And we are going to have a sexy monkey party. And Nicole aka the Empress of all Things Awesome will make us all Brussel Sprouts.

IT HAS COME FULL CIRCLE.

Lattes

Real people drink coffee. People who have jobs and contribute to society. People who don't have trouble waking up before the sun comes up. People who know how to change tires and fix the dryer. People who don't giggle at the work "caulk." People who really just like flavored milk drink lattes. People who like to waste money going to Starbucks, Peets or City Feed and purchasing a $4 drink, they drink lattes. And sadly, oh so sadly, I am the latter.

I don't like coffee. When I say, I really need some coffee, what I mean is, I really want a latte. Don't be confused. When you are drinking coffee I might say, "Wow, your coffee looks great." But that is only because you look so cool. 

Jan pretty much always looks cool, but she looks PARTICULARLY cool when she drinks her iced coffee. As a side note, Jan also has fixed our bathroom doorknob about 9 times. Which only further proves my point about coffee drinkers and their work ethic.

When my Hetero and I worked about 10 feet from each other (Dickens was thinking of this specific year when he wrote, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times." Yeah, that's right. Eff you, Pip. And yes, I know that quote is from Tale of Two Cities not Great Expectations, but how often does a person get to flip Pip the bird?) we got lattes everyday (Biggest. Waste of Money. Ever.). Now, Penny is one of those miraculous people who loves lattes AND coffee. This is why she is my hetero. She is COMPLEX. 

Are there lattes in those red cups? Maybe...

Anywho, we would get lattes every day, and usually one of us would cry. Mostly about work. And then we would go to Dunkin Donuts and get these

which at one point was only 3 Weight Watchers points, but one day, mysteriously, ballooned up to 7. I want to know what exactly they changed about the donut that doubled its caloric value. So this donut was $0.79. But everytime we got a latte, it was probably $4.00. Cause Penny and I are both lactose intolerant and had to drink soy milk. And then, in order to save the environment, we had to get matching reusable travel mugs. I mean we HAD to. TO SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT. We gave so much freaking money to Starbucks I'm pretty sure the two of us singlehandedly paid the salary of our favorite Barista, Doug, whom we affectionately called, Douggles. 

Also, Penny made me a special Starbucks card. 

It says, "Coffee Breaks are like a day at the beach."

So what is the point of all this, you ask? 

I love lattes. I also love fruity girl drinks that taste nothing like alcohol, small dogs that fit in purses, poofy skirts, sparkles, the color pink, and holding hands. And yes, I wasted a lot of money at Starbucks, but hanging out with my hetero for 30 minutes a day every weekday, was worth it. 

That is all.

Diane

So, Dee has a blog. And I have been enjoying reading it so intensely that I wanted to broadcast how great it is here on my blog.  But mostly I wanted an excuse to talk about Dee and how great she is and tell the story of our love and post a plethora of great and terrible photos and tell the world of all the wonderfulness she has brought into my life.

 Diane and I first met at this place.

 

If I got anything out of working at BU, it was meeting the following people:

 

What you see right here is me surrounded by the 3 of the best friends I have ever had in my whole life. That is why I am smiling like an idiot and my hair is sticking out in random directions. Sometimes, when I am feeling great love it does that.

But back to Diane. So one magical night before our first summer at Tanglewood, we all went out drinking. Here is a photo from that night.

About 5 minutes after this photo was taken we, along with the other 15 people at our table, started doing Tequilla shots. We were wasted. I mean SO WASTED. And then Diane tried to make out with me. And then felt so bad that the next morning she called me and apologized. Because we were going to be living in the same house at Tanglewood and she didn't want it to be awkward. Which it never was. Cause Dee is so awesome. And I remember after hanging up with her, saying outloud, "Man, Diane is awesome." Cause she is. Awesome.

More favorite Diane memories. 

At one point I got in trouble at work and my boss told me she was watching me and taking notes on my behavior to make sure I didn't over socialize. So everytime Diane would walk by my desk, she would stop, look at me, and write something down on a yellow piece of paper. At the end of the day, she handed me the piece of paper. It said, "I love you" with a smiley face.

A couple months ago in the car, Diane and I had an operatic conversation. Meaning, we sang everything we would have said operatically. It was one of the best moments of my life. When I first met Dee she said she couldn't sing, cause if she did sing puppies would die. She was wrong though. Cause that day in the car, I'm pretty sure angels got their wings.

My future favorite Diane moments

When she marries this lady

 

GOD I LOVE THEM.

Okay. Picture time.

 This is Dee and me at Whitney's wedding. I think I am admiring her super sweet rack, which you might find strange, until you notice just how sweet Dee's rack really is. I mean, seriously... it's OFF THE HOOK.

 This is Dee and me at the Sam Adams brewery. Dee loves beer. She and Heather came to the brewery to meet my mom. My mom is a new beer drinker, and when she told the tour this everyone clapped.

This is Dee and me at Lady Gaga. Her shirt and my hat are from H&M. We went shopping and bought them together with a special person who shall be mentioned later. And then we went and saw Toy Story 3. And Dee loved it.

One more thing I love about Diane: we cry at movies together. Dee and Heather and I went and saw WallE. Diane and I cried about 50 times.

Now, let's talk about the glorious people I've met because of Dee.

Heather is a given. I am actually convinced that we were destined to be friends and would have found each other in the world somehow, even if she and Diane did not fall in love, but I am beyond stoked things happened the way they did. I am glad that two such glorious people have love and that I get to have two such amazing "moms." And a sister.

Yes, I am aware that is a cat.

This gloriousness here just had a birthday. I think we've only hung out 5 times? I am counting only because each and every time is SO PRECIOUS. At a birthday party a couple weeks, EQ approached me about having a dance off. So we did. Duh.

 I am seeing this wonderousness for coffee this evening. She even wrote out an agenda of things to talk about. I LOVE a good agenda. And my Mologna.

If you are wondering if I cried while writing this blog, I will have you know I did. Because that's how much I love Diane. I am hoping she doesn't get creeped out by this.

Pie

When I wed I will have one requirement and one requirement alone of my man candy: that he bake me pie. 

 That's what I'm talking about. 

Oh, Ned the Piemaker. You are so dreamy.

Now friends, Pie is the perfect dessert. You can pretty much have any type of pie. Fruit Pie. Cheese Pie. Fluffy Glorious Meringue Pie. Pudding Pie. Meat Pie. Nut Pie. Squash Pie. Now I don't want to be the fat kid here, but I will eat ANY. TYPE. OF. PIE. God. They are all so perfect and delicious. If I could, I would eat pie everyday. And regardless of what my dearest KelKel says, I would eat it each and everytime warm, with vanilla ice cream. The kind with the little black specks in it.

One time I was at the farmer's market with a dear friend of mine and we saw a dude who looked like this man

standing behind a large table COVERED in pie. I jokingly asked him, "Did you make all these?" He sheepishly responded, "Yes." To which I not so jokingly said, "Will you marry me?"

Okay. So I didn't actually say that. But I did become so enamored of the Kevin Youkilis look-a-like pieman, that I stalked him every time I went to the farmer's market, so in love, that I could never actually speak to him or even buy a pie. Sad for my heart and my stomach indeed.

But this is why I am now going steady with this woman.

Do you see what she's holding? Oh yes. That's a HOMEMADE APPLE PIE. She woke up super early to make it. And though she probably was actually thinking of this woman when she made it

I still got to eat it. 

And it was amazing. Duh.

If my boyfriend ever asks any of you about advice in terms of what engagement ring to get me, tell him, diamonds are whack. I want a pie.

OK? OK.

Musics, Part 1

Is it lamesauce (or as the glorious EQ would say, queer) to say I love music? Of course. But I do have tendencies towards lamesaucery.

 Duh.

Here are the reasons I love music today:

 

 He is my alarm clock.

 I listened to these tasty dudes while getting ready this morning. ("Funeral" to be exact.)

I heart Old Dudes.

And slightly crazy ones.

This mans also has lots of feelings. And lots of tattoos. And he's drinking a beer. That's hot.

But let's be honest. My heart belongs to this man.

Forever

And Ever

Amen.

Lastly, I love that I get to share my musical loves with this lady...

...even when I'm sucking at life.

Man. What I just said paired with that slightly gay picture makes EJ and I look pretty gay.

Whatevs.

Things Jan loves...

HELLS. YES.

Things Deb loves in a rather inappropriate way...

Jake Gyllenhaal's not normally my thing but... holy god... those shoulder muscles...

Dogs Wearing Bandanas

This morning while walking to work I saw a dog wearing a bandana and I thought to myself, "Why do dogs look so great in bandanas?" To which I responded with another question, "Why don't I have a dog, so that we could wear matching bandanas?" To which I responded with a bout of spontaneous weeping and breast beating while shouting, "MISTER WAFFLES!!!!!!!!!!!! MISTER WAFFLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Anywho, dogs in bandanas look like little farm hands. Or messy eaters. Or bee keepers. Little hairy bee keepers.

Look at how pissed this dog is. He is thinking, "If  you don't take this bandana off my  neck I'm going to poop in your bed." Too bad. Cause he looks pretty freaking adorable. He looks like a wee bandit. He will roam the wild west highjacking wee freight trains and shooting up wee banks. 

This is a fancy bandana. Almost like an ascot. Cause Lassie is fancy, okay. You can tell by the way her paw is folded under her that she thinks she better than you. And she would be right.

Everytime I see a boxer, all I can think is, "FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCE." This friend got his bandana from Etsy. Clearly. I wonder if she'd let me borrow it cause it's kind of cute.

As a side note, one time I tired the dog sorbet at J.P. Licks. It was okay.

Harold the Plastic Dinosaur

Ten people who follow my blog, Harold. Harold, ten people who follow my blog.

Now that we have all met, let me tell you about Harold. Harold is a very special dinosaur. When he and I met he was living on top of a birthday cake. I tried to move in with him on top of that birthday cake, but alas, I wouldn't fit. And it probably wouldn't have worked out as I would have eaten the foundation of our home in 10 hot seconds. Anywho, we had a birthday party at my old job for my big boss who was turning 60 and Harold was one of the cake decorations. I stole him off the cake. It's true. There were other dinosaurs, and I left them all on the cake, but I stole away with Harold, washed the cake off of his wee dinosaur feet, and named him the most beautiful of names. Now Harold lives on my desk at work. At night when I leave, he makes sure that no one steals anything from my office. He also keeps me company when I am lonely up here on the 13th floor. He's pretty awesome. Kind of like this:

Boston Weather

Well, friends, it has been many weeks since I shared with you some things I love. You might think it is because I started a new job at fancy Harvard University and, by proxy, have became too pretentious for silly things like feelings. Well lets be honest. Now that I work at Harvard University I just feel super entitled and self-righteous as a RESULT of my many feelings. And my $26 year-long gym membership to ALL SIX Harvard gyms. And my rockin' health benefits. But this is neither here nor there.

You might also be thinking, "Maybe Deb hasn't had time to blog because she met a delicious, beardy man and has been too busy having sexual relations to blog." In my dreams.

Perhaps you thought, maybe Deb has reverted back to her Senior year at Redlands/Grad School/BU Job/Tanglewood Summer of '09 days and is drunk all the time and so cannot blog because she is nursing a consistent hangover, and is in the process of becoming a functioning alcoholic. Alas, this too is not the case. On Saturday I had two sips of wine and almost fell asleep. If my mom is reading this (which if you are, Mom, when you call me and I miss the call and then I call you back two seconds later, why don't you ever answer the phone? I mean really. In two seconds, have you put the phone down, put it on silent and sprinted into another room of the house?") she will find this very familiar.

But since I have now dis-proven all of these theories, perhaps you are now thinking, "Oh no. Deb is sad and depressed and hence loves nothing." Not to fret!

Really what I was doing was waiting for the ultimate thing to love to return to a more frequent blog schedule. And here it is. Today, on Monday, September 6, 2010 Deb loves...

Boston Weather

I mean it COULD NOT have been more beautiful the past two days. It is almost unreal. We were supposed to get a hurricane and instead, what do we get? Three dry, sunny days. I mean, COME ON.

On Saturday I walked outside with Penny for about 9 hours and every hour on the hour we would say, "This is the best day ever." Then I sat on a bench by Jamaica Pond with my friend Nicole and said, "This is the best afternoon ever." And then on Sunday, my other friend Nicole and I wandered around and bought fake eyelashes and ate sushi, and I said, "THIS is the best day ever."

And then today, the day of labour, where in fact no one has to labour at all (except my dear hetero selling her fancy yoga pants), I will be riding in a swan boat with my Sies and my Mologna and probably about 30 tourists in a man-made pond so shallow I could probably wade in it with my half-calf hunter boots and still have dry feet.

But my boots aren't shaped like swans. And I like sitting down better than wading.