excuses excuses

I think every time I say "I'm going to be better about blogging more frequently" it pretty much solidifies the fact that you will not hear from me for the better part of two weeks. DOH! At the risk of sounding like the girl who cried wolf I'll just skip the excuses and justifications and get right to the snarky banter, cool? Rock.

Hmmmm...what have I missed? Well, for starters, Easter came and went - proving my long suspected hunch that since my nephew was born my parents have officially forgotten that my sisters and I exist and are probably erecting a statue in his honor as we speak. Ha, that sounds bitter - I assure you, it's not - the kid is practically the sweetest, most moosh-able little ball of baby drooling cuteness to ever don Pampers - so I fully support them being smitten. Plus, they waited a hell of a long time for a grandchild, and if my other sister and I are their only hope of a next grandchild then they might want to consider being cryogenically frozen for a decade or two to assure that they're still in good form when the next bundle arrives. Either way, our usual family Easter festivities and basket/gift giving were reduced to a huge mountain of gifts, baskets, and stuffed animals being heaped upon the little man and my sisters and I being like "um, do we get any Easter baskets? candy? no? a few jelly beans in a ziploc? nothing? ok..." and slinking away with our heads down into the kitchen. Oh, and then we went to my mom's version of Disneyland, aka church. It was Spring-y and holy and Easter-y and, well, that about covers it...

Then, the following weekend, I ventured into what I consider to be the meanest form of female cruelty: a bridal shower, and (shock of all shocks) came out alive! No, really, this one was for my best friend who is actually a remarkably laid back bride, and our other friends in the bridal party who are helping to organize it are actually remarkably low key and helpful too, so all in all it was about as painless an experience as one could ask for. Plus, there was booze, which always manages to take the edge off a brunch with too much estrogen and a ribbon/gift bow bouquet (look it up, boys). But, even with all circumstances being favorable and me utterly looking forward to this wedding, I still think that when I get married (in 2046), I will take the following approach to the whole 'Shower' issue: the whole point of a shower is to get people to buy you gifts off your registry (oh don't lie, that's completely the function and anyone who says otherwise is either a liar or a stepford female), so if that's the ultimate goal, then why not just tell people and skip the madness? I myself will be sending out a card one day that says "I like you too much to subject you to sitting through an afternoon of heels and mini sandwiches, so just SHOWER me with gifts and we'll call it even." Then I'll tell people where I'm registered, and suggest that they meet me out for a cocktail, some food and general conversation at X restaurant or bar at X time if they are so inclined, blah blah blah yay me I'm the coolest bride ever. Amen. You're welcome. PS, her bachelorette party is this weekend in NYC so I'm sure to have lots of girl-related fun and debauchery to report on soon.

So what else, what else....? Oh yes, in the time that I've managed to skip blogging we've had quite a few news gems that I've been meaning to comment on, so here are my unsolicited opinions on things that suck, things that confound, and things that I frankly just don't know what to file them under...

Bea Arthur died. Oh my God, I am so sad!! Seriously, I didn't realize that the passing of Dorothy Zbornak would have such a profound effect on me, but it did. Now all we have left is the slutty one and the stupid one (their characters, of course)...it's like the Hilton sisters, geriatric style. RIP, Dorothy, RIP...

The Swine flu hit. REALLY? No, I mean...really? What year is it? And what country do we live in? I feel like we're all caught in some really cheesy paperback drugstore novel, but OK sure, I'll play along. Oh, but as for the whole 'renaming the disease' BS I have to say "WHO THE EFF CARES WHAT YOU CALL IT, it'd suck to be infected any way you slice it - call it H1N1, call it swine flu, call it Rainbow Goddamn Brite for all I care, just file it under "shizz I don't ever want to know about" and call it a day. Oh, and if people think that this will make everyone be more hand washing conscious or hygienically driven, think again. I ride the subway, we just had a 90 degree heat wave and most people couldn't even be bothered to wear freakin' deodorant, so you think they're going to go all "Purell Nazi" all of a sudden? Ha, good luck with that. And btw the only person who can pull off the whole "surgical mask" look and not look like a certifiable A-hole is on Grey's Anatomy and his name starts with "Mc" and ends with "Dreamy", so if you're not him you just look like a hypochondriac freak. The only possible good that could come out of this whole debacle is if Spencer and Heidi from The Hills manage to pick up a raging case of the virus while in Mexico for their honeymoon (um, do they own a TV? read a newspaper? my bad, dumb question...), and then we'll just chalk it up to God having a sense of humor, and biological Darwinism.

The Susan Boyle phenomenon.

What. The. Eff. I'm all for the plain Jane type getting props for their talent and inspiring people, but did I miss something? When did they bring back Life Goes On? I didn't realize that Corky kid had already gotten a new gig, weird...

Oh stop it. You know you, too, were thinking that she looks equal parts developmentally disabled and Janet Reno, don't lie. 

The economy continues to tank, and as a result General Motors puts its "redneck limousine" line of cars, Pontiac, out of its misery once and for all. Somewhere, all over the country (well, in the flyover states at least), hillbilly hearts are breaking...and (I'd suspect) boys with mullets and porn 'staches are trying to convince girls that their Firebirds and Grand Prix's are "classics" now. Sure they are...at Dairy Queen maybe.

Twitter has taken over the world. No - you know what? I'm saving this one for a full blown blog posting at a later date, but suffice it to say for now that, if Barbra Walters jumps on a trend, I'd say that officially marks the death rattle of "cool" for said phenomenon. Moving right along...

On a more 'microcosmic' level (read: only relevant to me and, well...me, really) My mom came to visit today and spend time with the baby (oh yeah, and her last born child...but really just the bambino, let's be honest). It was delightful to have someone to talk to and spend an afternoon with, since I mainly just talk to myself while on long walks with the stroller and contemplate how much cooler I was when I was employed. The highlight of my afternoon was watching my mom try to teach the baby how to do the sign of the cross (that's "Catholic speak" for all you not down with the JC). She might be the most religious person I know, but even I couldn't keep from smiling when she grabbed his little chubby baby wrists and walked him through the motions. The kid has recently mastered rolling over, now has two - count them TWO - teeth invading his little baby mouth and to top it off Nana's trying to secure him a spot amongst the bible set. Priceless. 

Oh, and did I mention she brought along a 13 hour DVD set of the complete Baby Einstein videos for my nephew? Yeah, I watched two of the videos today and I have to admit, I myself was transfixed by the narration-less images of water dripping, wheels spinning and bubbles popping that comprised this series. I know it's supposed to be educational and stimulating for babies or something, but all I could think about when I watched it was how I needed to have smoked a lot of weed or eaten a big bag of 'shrooms to fully appreciate what I was seeing. It was literally mind-numbing and anyone on any sort of hallucinogenic or mind-altering substance would probably require an intervention to tear them away from the screen, honestly. The baby is either going to grow up really really intelligent or prone to dropping acid and watching Pink Floyd posters "melt" in his basement. Here's hoping for option A...

Oh, and just in case anyone didn't believe before that I should be the poster girl for government assistance, I think it's safe to say that you've officially become employment road kill when the Department of Labor sends you a letter notifying you that you have to attend a "Re-employment Seminar" in order to keep up eligibility for benefits. Suh-weet, can't wait to meet my fellow rejects - if memory serves, last time I had to attend one of these things (5 years ago) I was the only one in the room who didn't have experience in the food service industry (we're talking more Arby's than Nobu here guys). Should be enlightening, don't forget to check your local listings for that blog posting as well.

That's the news for now kiddos, play nice, work hard and don't forget to skip the hot dog carts...at least for a while. It's OK to recommend them to tourists though, tourists like pandemics.

Still waiting for the upswing...

::renata::

you can't make this stuff up

I have lived in this city for almost 7 years now, and I am ashamed to say that I've spent a remarkably small amount of time in Central Park. Honestly, the extent of my venturing into the park (which occupies like 40% of the real estate in this city) pretty much entailed me entering at the reservoir, jogging around it several times, and then exiting in that very same location. So, when it became apparent to one of my friends (who spends almost every weekend in Central Park) that I had only seen most of the scenery in movies and not actually in person, she decided that we needed to rectify that ASAP. I guess this made me half a New Yorker in her eyes, much like living in California and never going to the ocean - it's possible, but why avoid it? In general I shun any place touristy in NYC, I have precious little tolerance for places that collect people with cameras and folded maps. I live 2 blocks from the Empire State building and have never gone to the top of it to see the city. I wish Times Square would actually implode. I couldn't care less about seeing the Statue of Liberty (I can see it just fine from the BQE, thanks) and I haven't been to a museum in this city in years (OK, that one I actually DO feel badly about. Culture? What's that?)

Let me just clarify right now though that her park tour was not going to focus heavily on things like the boat house, poets walk, sail boat pond, etc. It was going to highlight the more colorful side of the park, the characters that define its landscape, the regulars who can be found there day in and day out - in short, the craziest sons of b*tches in the whole damn city, and she knew exactly where to find them all.

Her first stop brought us to the biggest impromptu rollerskating party I've ever seen (well, since fifth grade anyway). It was, simply put, a bunch of wacked out people on old school roller skates (Rollerblades are for suckas, apparently) dancing to funk and disco music spun by a DJ smack in the middle of the park. These people were not messing around either, they were SERIOUS dancers, doing choreographed moves, partnering and literally not standing still for one minute. My jaw fell open and I just stared for about 10 minutes, and then I began to wonder, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? The answer is, frighteningly enough, that they could be ANYBODY. Seriously, one of these head cases could be sitting next to you on the subway, doing your taxes or cooking your dinner in a pricey restaurant and you would have NO IDEA at all. Some of them looked like moms, some of them looked like accountants, and some of them looked like, well, creepy old men. But the point is, and there IS a point here, that they must've taken so many drugs or been so unbelievably high before doing this, I can't imagine participating in that unless you'd smoked a boatload of weed beforehand. If you've never seen these people in person (I'm probably the last person in the city who hadn't witnessed this spectacle yet, according to my friend), I highly recommend you do so. Here's a picture of generally what the disco party looks like:

And here's a picture of a grandma on roller skates who has a better ass than I do. Sigh. Apparently you can wear spandex and a whole bottle of Aquanet (and Arnold Schwarzenegger's sunglasses too) if your thighs look like that at age 75. Sweet lord, this lady gave me a complex. Oh, and she also did slow motion arm movements like she was emerging from a cocoon and spun herself into tight circles over and over. Yeah, drugs, I know...

This is a picture of a crazy bike and its owner, a man who looked remarkably like George Clinton from Parliament Funkadelic. I tried to get my friend to go over and sit on his bike, but she was afraid. Coward ;)

Here's a picture of a guy who wasn't even on roller skates, he just danced by himself the whole time in a spastic, Tourette's-like, rhythm and coordination lacking manner, even when the music was between songs. He mostly amused me because he reminds me of someone I went to high school with, but honestly, I think everyone knows SOMEONE who could be this guy in a few years. Remember those kids doing the hacky sack or those crazy devil sticks things in the cafeteria in high school? Yeah, well no one told them it stopped being cool 19 years ago and now they're on 84th and 5th scaring bystanders. Wait, was it ever cool? anyway...

And speaking of scaring bystanders, the only thing more amusing than the freakshow on wheels was watching the reactions and gaping jaws of people like me who stumbled upon it. Here's a photo of some kids who are giving, in my opinion, the appropriate level of "WHAT THE EFF-ness" in their look and body language that frankly says it all.

Last but not least for the roller skaters is the guy who rode around wearing pants that were clearly made from no less than 5 psychedelic terry cloth shower curtains and stacking drinking bottles on his head. Like I said, stay off the drugs kids...

Then it was time to move on for some more fitness-based entertainment, and she introduced me to the flipping, dancing, comedy spectacle that could only be known as "the Afro-Bats". Nope, not a typo, it's three black guys reminding us that they are more agile and athletic than we could ever hope to be by launching themselves in the air and climbing steps on their hands. Mostly, I just hid behind my friend because I was afraid that they'd pick me for the audience participation portion of the show. Oh, and the moral of their act (or what I took away from it, at least) was that they can get away with saying things that white people NEVER could, and it was one of the most hysterical things I've seen in a while.

The tour culminated with a concert under the archway thingy (ahem, that's its proper name by the way) by a guy and his, uh, assistant (read: crazy cat lady girl) who played the violin and SANG IN THEIR OWN MADE UP LANGUAGE. I repeat, sang in their own made.up.language. Oh, did I mention that they sang 6 octaves too high and wore bells on their ankles? They wore frocks from Crackheads R' Us and hopped around his makeshift stage thing where he had set up various tchotchkes, idols and figurines and were burning incense. Incense? Really? What YEAR is it? Since they were blocking the only way in or out of the area, they had themselves quite a captive audience of people standing around stifling laughter and cocking their heads to the side with furrowed brows. I still have no idea what the hell the point of their performance was (which, by the way, happens almost every hour or so) but what I took away from that show was that the drugs that they were on were WAY stronger than what the skating people took. Oh, and that they must've been the socially stunted drama kids in high school. I also tried to get my friend to get up and start dancing with these people, but again she punked out.

So, after a few hours of watching people who clearly needed to be on regulatory medication, we decided to call it a day. I told her that she should seriously quit her job and charge admission for people to take her tour of the city, if there's a ridiculous or over the top person/situation/place within 5 miles she's like a freak GPS, she finds it or attracts it to her. I, on the other hand, don't make eye contact and zap people with the unfriendly and inapproachable rays I give off. And I wonder why I haven't met any good guys in this city...

Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. I realize that this posting is entirely UN-funny unless you've actually had occasion to see these people up close, but if nothing else I urge you to peruse the park next time you're in the area. If I don't get a real job soon I may offer to do publicity for the rollerskating people, something tells me they have potential.

Still waiting for the upswing...

::renata::

filling in the blanks

(taps the mic) Is this thing on???

Apparently when I say I'll be back in a jiffy, a "jiffy" means 4 or 5 days later. I'm like that show "The Hills", just when you think you've gotten rid of me, I come back... No, seriously, can someone please assassinate the entire cast of that show? And the new remake of 90210? A strong gust of wind should make them all go away, since they all collectively weigh as much as a whiffle ball. Well, I promised I'd elaborate on what exciting things were keeping me from my blogging duties for a month and a half, and I've come back to make good on my promise. And here are my activities, in no particular order (I feel like the host from America's Funniest Home Videos announcing the 3 finalists...)

Valentine's Day: Or as I like to call it "I'd like to kick all happy couples in the junk" day. I did what any respectable and mildly bitter single female in NYC would do and ate too much guacamole and went to see "He's Just Not That Into You" with one of my best friends. Later that night, I turned into a human cliche, officially. I also found myself oddly charmed by Justin Long and then realized that I should probably off myself for finding the guy from the 'Mac vs. PC' commercials attractive.

Family Vacation: My parents have had a timeshare in Aruba since I was 4 and now spend an entire month there in the winter, so every year my sisters and I embark on what we refer to as operation "crash mom and dad's vacation and disrupt their golf schedule" for about a week or so. I love my family dearly, but I found us bearing striking similarities to the Griswald's in the "National Lampoons" movies at various points in the trip. Sadly, I guess that would make me Audrey though... and if I didn't want to kill myself before for the Justin Long comment, I definitely want to now because she was the anti-cute in every film. I guess that would make my sister "Rusty" then, sucks to be her... The highlights of the trip? Realizing that my dad officially needs a hearing aid when over a dinner conversation about pine nuts being in my salad, dear ol' dad chimed in with "Planes?? Yeah, I don't like them either, I'm not much of a flier actually..." (insert stunned silence by my mom and I at his level of senility here) Oh, then there were the hours of sun time I took in around our the pool at our resort, or as I like to call it "the place where old people go to die". Seriously, I know it's not exactly the Spring Break crowd there, but at one point I looked around the pool and felt like I was in the cast of "Cocoon."

Also on that trip I watched a 95 year-old Asian man named "Chin" do the electric slide at the hotel's welcome cocktail party, and I counted the hot boys in the casinos that were, sadly, always trailed by their equally cute BRIDES, since every good looking young person on the island was there on their honeymoon, arghhhhhh. I later decided my mom needs an intervention from the Penny Slots (she was literally shaking and foaming at the mouth some nights when we pulled her out of the casino, all the while mumbling something about hitting the progressive jackpot and being hopped up on free diet cokes). I also celebrated my birthday with my family by a surprise cake and candles at our favorite restaurant and a stirring rendition of "Happy BURZday to you" by about 10 South American, Aruban and Dutch waiters with tambourines.

And speeeeeeeeeeaking of birthdays...

I celebrated another year of life upon my return from vacation by hitting a local bar with some friends to play "let's see how many shots it takes to blot out the fact that I'm old". The answer? Not enough.

The Nanny situation: Just call me Fran Drescher, without the skin crawl-inducing voice. My sister's maternity leave ended shortly after returning home from vacation, so I went from leisurely days of lunching with her and the baby to logging 12 hour days in Babyville: population 1. At first I was just really afraid that he'd cry for hours, have truly traumatizing diapers or, like, his head would fall off or something bad would happen on my watch (so far two of the three have happened, knock on wood). But now we've got ourselves into a nice little routine and I just spend my days talking in falsetto voice to someone who doesn't respond and pondering really exciting topics like why his baby sweatpants have pockets on them (what the eff does a 4 month old have to put in pockets? are those really necessary?) or what baby formula must taste like (no, I will not try it but if it tastes anything like it smells like, I'd say it's vomit-flavored powdery goodness). I also amuse myself by finding new and exciting ways to make him giggle or smile and I watch him do his current favorite activity - trying to put his feet in his mouth (I know what you're thinking, this is genius savant-type behavior, clearly). Today he spent a full 30 minutes grabbing at his socks in vain with his little mouth open and head bobbing. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his enormous baby gut would probably impede his success, but you can't blame the kid for trying... I also go for walks or coffee with my sister's friends who are new mothers and we discuss rousing topics like how bouncing on a yoga ball to make them fall asleep will eventually make you go bat shit crazy (is there such thing as baby PTSD?) and how many times a day we get thrown up on. Today I had an actual 10 minute conversation about baby poo - no lie. Remember when I used to work in an office, with aggravating bosses and annoying coworkers? Those were the days, sigh.... No, seriously though, I am very lucky to be able to spend my days with him, I just had no idea it'd be so glamorous and high profile.

In my free time, which is rapidly dwindling, I have returned to doing something that I did my entire life but had in recent years gotten away from somehow - dancing. I started taking hip hop classes at a studio in Hell's Kitchen, and since I'd been on my college dance team (that's "Captain" scantily clad whore to you, thankyouverymuch) I figured I wouldn't be totally left in the dust. I failed to factor in, however, that "beginner" classes in NYC mean that you're a beginner because you're not in an Akon video or have your own workout DVD. Oh, and then there's the fact that everyone in the class is small, Asian and shockingly RIDICULOUSLY GOOD at dancing. They all dress in sweats with one pant leg pulled up, throwback Nikes and graffiti'd trucker hats - I feel like I'm on America's Best Dance Crew: Tokyo Addition.

Other than that, I've just been doing some random odds 'n ends with myself, like trying to figure out why people in NYC have treated the opening of the new TopShop in Soho like the second coming of Jesus, wondering if I'm the only person on Planet Earth who doesn't "Tweet" (possibly the most ambiguously sexual reference I've heard lately) and plotting my revenge on our government for screwing me out of a respectable tax return - damn you, Uncle Sam (shakes fist in the air)! Oh, and I've been planning the bridal shower/bachelorette party of my best friend for her upcoming wedding and taking a very special tour of Central Park from a friend who is a "crazy magnet" and has found the most amusing and insane people in the city. I can't even do her tour justice, it was that enlightening, but I will leave you with this little tease picture and will post more photos eventually.

I like to call this one "just how much weed must these people have smoked before strapping on roller skates and dancing to funk music in public?"

But actually that's a whole other set of blog posts for another time and I'm getting ahead of myself. Oh yeah, and I also spent another St. Patty's day in the Big Apple being the only brown kid in the bar, which made it surprisingly similar to last year's St. Patty's day, so I'll just be lazy and refresh your memory here http://waitingfortheupswing.blogspot.com/2008/03/avoiding-sophomore-slump.html But that's about it, damas y caballeros, I have to get my tired old bones to bed so that I can take on another day of Baby Einstein videos and squeaky toys.

OH, ONE LAST THING: while I was playing blogger hooky this little site o' mine quietly passed the one year old mark, and I'd like to raise my literary shot glass to it and tip my hat for a minute, if you don't mind. I mean hey, last year at this time we were accidentally burning our backyard down http://waitingfortheupswing.blogspot.com/2008/04/thats-hot.html or I was off ridiculing men's fashion at bars http://waitingfortheupswing.blogspot.com/2008/04/do-me-favor.html , so I'm already headed off in a better direction I suppose. Just in case you're new to the site or you've forgotten why the heck I started it to begin with, here's a little trip down memory lane, if you're so inclined - scroll down to the bottom for the earliest postings http://waitingfortheupswing.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-06-05T15%3A23%3A00-04%3A00&max-results=50 Here's to things looking up (finally? hopefully? maybe?) and as always...

Still waiting for the upswing...

::renata::

Day-ummm

I'm sorry, do I know you???? 

You look kinda familiar...no?

 Uh - yeah. It's been a seriously long time. I know, I know, I am now officially the Jeff Spicoli of blogging (if you don't know that reference get off my blog!). Have you ever let something go for so long that it goes from being a minor task to seeming like a huge friggin' mountain of work that you just cannot fathom trying to climb because you've let it get so far out of control? I don't know about you guys, but I've had the odd hellish week where my laundry will go un-put away (not a real word, duh) and then I change outfits a few too many times or forget to make my bed and then a week goes by and maybe even two and before you know it my room looks like Hurricane Closet blew through and I can't even begin to motivate to clean the disaster and I just want to cross my arms and blink like that broad from "I Dream of Genie" and well (*breathe*)....you get the point....(exhale). So consider this my formal apology and get beyond it, suckas, 'cause this chick is back in the fold now for good. 

Welllllllllllllll actually, I may be getting ahead of myself. At the moment I'm full-time nannying for a 4 month old infant which means that my life is officially turned up on its side and I now conduct my life and my personal business in 20 minute intervals when the blessed bundle happens to be sleeping. I've seriously considered putting Baby Nyquil in his bottles just to get a minute to myself lately but since it A- doesn't actually exist (for obvious health and legal reasons I'd assume) and B- would make me a horrible person I think I'll just resign myself to having very little free time. That said, my favorite baby nugget is sleeping in the next room and Auntie Overtired doesn't have the time to fully do this blog posting justice. So, I will return soon (no, really, I mean it this time) to fill in the blanks on what the hell I've been up to in the past month and a half... The quick and dirty recap is that I: shunned Valentine's day, went on a family vacation, turned a year older, passed the 1 year mark on this lil' blog o' mine, started nannying, returned to dance classes after almost 7 years away, filed my taxes, and became a professional stroller chauffer/baby punching bag/drool magnet/baby spit-up sponge. Yes, I am now the human equivalent of the ShamWow and wear one of those crazy Baby Bjorns on the daily. Wanna know the best way to kill your game with the opposite sex? Walk around with a kid strapped to your chest. Nothing says 'unavailable' to cute boys on the sidewalk or subway like the mommy look - and since I obviously don't have a wedding ring on I get disapproving looks from strangers and look like a single mom who probably collects government assistance... ha, little do they know, I DO collect government assistance, just not that kind. 

OK fockers,  I hear the little one a' stirring so I must go. I'll be back before you can say "unemployed", I promise...

Still waiting for the upswing...

::renata::