Life As a Stereotype

Ever wonder how other people see you? You know, not your close friends and family, but other people. People who maybe know a little bit about you, casual acquaintances, coworkers, etc. What do they see when they see you? Well recently I had the *good* fortune to find out exactly what people see. Apparently they see a book-loving spinster cat lady. Fuck me. Okay, technically I am a book-loving spinster cat lady, but only in the most literal sense. Sure I like books, have two cats and am a bit past my sell-by date. This does NOT mean I have a house filled with cat figurines and needle point throw pillows of tabbies. Apparently, people assume I do. How did I find this out? Like many of life's little bitch slaps, it came in the form of a Christmas present. I was given a tote bag featuring a cartoon of a cat lounging on a stack of books with a caption that reads: Books. Cats. Life is Good! Oh HELL no! This is one of those times when "it's the thought that counts" only makes it worse since clearly the gift-giver was thinking "what do you get for the tragic spinster?" I take umbrage at this blatant stereotyping. It does not follow that just because you happen to be a spinster librarian with cats you would automatically have/want/like kitschy cat/book themed merchandise of any kind. Still not sure if I should be laughing or crying.

Better than The Secret!

So recently my friends and I have been trying to brain-storm ways of escaping from the Festering Pit of Despair (aka large international law firm where we all work) before our souls are completely devoured and our spirits crushed entirely. In other words--how can we get out before it's too late? All of us have outside interests and we are all quite clearly wasting our talents here...but of course there is the small matter of paychecks and the fact that we all like roofs over our heads, wine in the fridge, etc. So in the meantime we hopefully cross our fingers while picking lottery numbers and maintain well-developed fantasies about what our lives will be like when we succeed in getting out of this hell and on to bigger and better things. We were discussing our future lives yesterday--Dee was researching the best kind of dairy cows for making artisanal cheese on her farm, Trish was wondering if David Duchovny would write the screenplay for a book she's optioned, I was wondering whether I should source my Pinot Noir grapes from Santa Maria or the Santa Lucia Highlands--and that's when it hit me. What if the fantasy life is the real life and all this (sweeping arm gesture here) is just a very bad dream? What if, in my real life, I live in a beautiful house on the Palos Verdes Peninsula instead of my decrepit little apartment? What if, when that alarm goes off and I wake from this nightmare, I find I'm safe in my comfy bed inside that beautiful house with David Tennant drooling on the pillow next to mine? This got us thinking. What if we were to behave as if we were living the lives we want? It's like dressing for the job you want instead of the job you have right? It's better than The Secret because instead of just "putting it out there to the Universe" you actually start living and behaving the way you would if you were already living your dream life. And maybe, just maybe, you end up with the life you want, or at least a reasonable facsimile. Either that or I lose my rather tenuous grip on reality altogether and end up in a psych ward, heavily medicated. Technically, I will have escaped the Festering Pit of Despair though so I would consider this a win. Perhaps I really have gone round the bend here, but I think we're on to something. To test the theory, we've planned on heading out early for drinks at the Four Seasons (because that's the sort of thing we would do in our real lives). I'll let you know how it goes!

Happy New Year to All Plus a Rant

January 1, 2009. Holy hell! Seems like just yesterday everyone was freaking out about Y2K and the impending apocalypse and here we are nine years later already! Turns out the actual harbinger of the end of days may have been mortgage-backed securities. I have a feeling 2009 is going to be a wild one as far as the economy is concerned. My goal for the new year? Remain gainfully employed--the way things are going this will be no small feat. Other than that I plan to be more social (I went to a party last night and am going to another today. Okay, so maybe it isn't a party so much as it is two people watching a football game...but still social, no?), I'm going to entertain more at my home (which serves the dual purpose of being social and forcing me to clean!) and I'm going to attempt to get a grip on my finances which have been hemorrhaging quite badly the past few months. Most importantly, I will continue to do things for no other reason than they make me happy. We all have to do plenty of things every day out of necessity or obligation that we'd rather not be doing. It is important to take the time for a little bit of personal indulgence. Reading the latest chic lit, opening a good bottle of wine when it isn't a special occasion, watching Blackpool again, making carbonara, hanging out in a bookstore or wine shop, sneaking off for margaritas with your friends at lunch time...just a few of the things that serve no purpose other than to make me happy which I intend to do more of in the new year! If I weren't trying to hold down expenses I'd add shop for purses to the list, maybe if there's a sale! Happy 2009, everyone! I wish you all health, wealth and happiness in the new year!

And now a rant. What the fuck is wrong with people who write horrible, awful things in order to drive traffic to their illegal websites? As you know I fell head over heels for Mr. David Tennant after seeing him in Hamlet in October (I blogged about it in the post Full English Breakfast). Well, as a proper fan girl and true geek I set up a Google alert for DT so that I could keep up with news about him. The other day I got an alert with a headline saying that he had died. I could not verify the news as it seemed to be coming from only the one source, but I was still shaken. I realize I don't actually know the man, but first of all there are very few people in the world I would actually wish death upon whether I know them or not. Second, he's a brilliant actor and I hope to enjoy his work for years to come. Third, he's terribly cute. The idea that something had happened to him made me feel physically ill. Eventually, a friend was able to look at the site the story came from and told me it was something called a torrent and totally bogus. I know nothing about torrents, but I know I hate them. Who writes a bogus story about someone dying just to drive traffic to their site? If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times...I hate people.

Modern Day Joseph

Greetings from the arctic circle...or at least that's what it feels like here in Big Sky country. 25 degrees below zero. That's right -25. Actually, we've warmed up quite a bit and are now hovering right around zero. Not really cold at all. I'm here visiting family for the holidays and was able to see my niece, age four, in the church Christmas pageant the other day. This is the church I grew up attending and I remember being in the pageants. I was always one of the angels. Never got to be Mary which is the choice role as she is clearly the star. Some might say Baby Jesus is the star, but since he is played by a doll in our church, it isn't really much of a part. This year we watched my niece file in with all the other kids and take her place at the front of the church. She looked adorable in her little wings and halo (she had to be an angel too!) and her red Christmas dress. Clearly she knew she was there to look good as she didn't actually do a lot of singing. She did wave furiously at her dad and grandpa who were both busy filming and she often turned around to look at the kids behind her. Sometimes she played with her skirt, doing her own little dance which seemed entirely unrelated to Away in a Manger. As cute as she was; however, she was not the stand out in this performance. That distinction goes to Joseph. Mary and Joseph, played by a couple of wee little ones, came on stage with another kid dressed in a donkey suit (he will most certainly be scarred for life) and placed the Baby Jesus (the aforementioned doll), swaddling clothes and all, in the manger. This task being accomplished, Mary sat down beside the manger. Joseph, in the form a true modern father, appeared terror-stricken and ran to his mother, abandoning Mary and Baby Jesus and leaving them to fend for themselves. Who can blame him really? A wife and baby are a big responsibility, especially in these tough economic times. As a carpenter, he probably hasn't had much work lately. Besides, there's that whole sticky paternity issue... I guess it's a good thing for Baby Jesus that Joseph wasn't a modern man.

Full English Breakfast

When I awoke this morning I was disappointed to find no one offered to fry me up any eggs and bacon (or as we Americans call it, ham) with tomato, mushrooms and beans as they had the past three mornings. And I was really starting to like the beans too! I just returned from a whirlwind trip to England to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of Hamlet in Stratford-upon-Avon. It was absolutely fantastic and a dream come true. About 10 months ago I found out Patrick Stewart would be performing in Hamlet and immediately purchased tickets for two nights. Seeing Patrick Stewart perform Shakespeare has been on my list of things to do in life for a while now. I've seen his one man show of A Christmas Carol twice and it was amazing. I have been a Shakespeare freak since high school and seeing Mr. Stewart performing Shakespeare was a bit like the Holy Grail for me. Even though it meant spending money I really didn't have, traveling by myself and spending only four days total, it was something I was determined to do. As it turns out, it was more than worth it. I would go again in a heartbeat.


The trip started a little unevenly. My flight was about half an hour late so I knew I had very little time to make my train at Marylebone. I raced for the Heathrow Express to Paddington, from there caught the tube two stops to Marylebone and, quite unfortunately, missed the train to Stratford by just a couple of minutes. I chatted for a while with two very friendly conductors and after telling them I had theatre tickets they suggested that rather than wait for the next train, which if on time (not something British railway system is known for) would have put me in Stratford with only 30 minutes to curtain, I take a train to Warwick and get a taxi from there. It would give me an hour and a half. Perfect!

I absolutely love England so I enjoyed gazing at the green fields and fluffy white sheep on the way to Warwick. The taxi driver deposited me at the Falcon hotel in Stratford with plenty of time to shower and get ready for the play. The theatre was only a few minutes walk, but I didn't want to be late so I went directly there rather than stopping for something to eat or to go to the ATM even though the taxi had taken most of the cash I'd brought with me. This ended up being a critical error on my part, but at this time there was no way of knowing what the evening had in store.

I got to the theatre, had a bottle of orange juice (lunch and dinner) and took my seat. Front row of the circle, center. In my opinion, the very best seat in the house. For the next three and a half hours I was completely caught up in the magic of the Bard's words brought wonderfully and vibrantly to life by this amazing cast. I have seen a lot of Shakespeare performed, including other performances by the RSC, but nothing even comes close to being as truly brilliant and perfect as this production of Hamlet. The entire cast was outstanding, but I have to admit being completely blown away by David Tennant (or as I knew him prior to this, Dr. Who) in the lead role. He was tremendous. A true comic genius with the range to play the full scale of emotions of the Danish Prince from heartbreaking despair to ribald humour, acerbic wit to seething anger. Quite honestly, I think I fell just a little bit (okay, maybe a lot) in love with Mr. Tennant based solely on his performance. Of course I came specifically for Patrick Stewart and he did not disappoint. His Claudius was truly diabolical, and quite frightening. He is a commanding presence on the stage (or as I wrote in my journal after the performance, "like a god upon the stage") and I have to say I feel incredibly lucky to have seen him on four separate occasions now. He is an amazingly gifted performer and this is never more evident than in his theatre work. Finally seeing him perform Shakespeare was even more brilliant than I imagined. I also have to give kudos to Penny Downie whose turn as Gertrude was also quite memorable. The entire cast was, truly, outstanding.

So after witnessing this amazing incarnation of what is perhaps Shakespeare's finest work, I found that there was yet another incredible treat in store. After taking their bows, the actors announced that this was a special week in England when they raise money for the actors' fund and the entire cast would be in the lobby with buckets. OMFG! I could not believe what I was hearing. Mr. Patrick Stewart was actually going to be in the lobby. I could actually meet him! When I arrived in the lobby, there he was behind the bar, thronged by people, signing autographs. People were having their programs signed. I had decided to wait and buy one the following night because I had so little cash. Oh no. What to do? Then I remembered my ticket. It was actually quite large and would do nicely. I scrounged all of the change from my purse, about four pounds total. I felt terrible. I would have liked to have given so much more. If only I'd had time to go to the ATM before the show! Still, I knew this might be my only chance. Although they had said they were taking up the collection this "week" I knew there was no guarantee they would do it the following night. I waited for my turn with Mr. Stewart feeling excited, terrified, giddy and also ashamed that I had so little money for the charity bucket. When my turn came, I slid my ticket across to him and whispered a tentative hello. He took the ticket to sign and then looked at me expectantly--waiting, I'm sure, for me to speak. I looked at him with what I'm certain was a crazed expression of terror and could not bring myself to utter a single syllable. He handed back my ticket, I found my voice to say "thank you very much," threw my money in the bucket and literally ran out of the theatre.

OMG! Patrick Stewart had signed my ticket! I was nearly hysterical with my good fortune. It was only later that my regret at not having talked to him began to creep in. And I really wished I'd had more money to give. I could have asked if he'd take U.S. dollars, which I had, for the collection. I could have told him I'd traveled for 10.5 hours by plane, 3 hours by train, 15 minutes by taxi and 5 minutes on foot just to see him perform. I spent most of the night lying awake rehearsing a concise speech of admiration for his work, which (I hoped) didn't sound too stalkerish, on the off chance they would be taking the collection again the next night. I was fully prepared. I purchased a program and made sure to have some liquid courage during intermission. Alas, it was not to be. My chance had been a once in a life time chance. I was sad only because I really, truly would have like to have given an appropriate donation to the fund and I would also have liked to have told Patrick Stewart how greatly I admire his work. If anyone reading this happens to know Mr. Stewart, I would greatly appreciate it if you could pass this along to him. I realize only two people read this blog, but I'm putting it out there anyway!

Despite the fact that I was unable to really speak to him, I am absolutely ecstatic over my great fortune in being in the theatre the one night it was possible to get his autograph. And, even if I had not had that particular opportunity, I would still be on cloud nine now, having witnessed such a tremendous production, not once, but twice. It was even better the second night. I'm certain I could have watched this play a dozen times without becoming the least bit bored. I can say in all honesty that this was the adventure of a lifetime and a dream come true for me.

Kids Today

So I'm walking down the street to my office yesterday and I see an ad on the side of a bus shelter which, I kid you not, is actually aimed at getting kids to play. It says "One Hour a Day. Go Out and Play!" What kind of a country are we running here where kids aren't, of their own volition, going out to play? Isn't that their only job as kids? Isn't there something in the way they are hard wired that causes them to erupt into spontaneous play without prompting from the Ad Council? How did we end up here? Is it the video games which have taken over most every kid and a number of adults and turned them into sort of cyber zombies who live only in the virtual world? The paranoia parents have of letting their kids outside in a world filled with creeps and wackos? Or the chronic over-scheduling of our kids with homework, sports, clubs, lessons, etc. all aimed at getting them into the right pre-school so they can go to Harvard Law some day and then resent the fuck out of you because they really wanted to be a photographer? Perhaps we have a perfect storm which has come together to rob children of their childhoods, of the pure exhilaration of riding their bikes as fast as they can and taking the "Evil Knievel" style jump at the bottom of the hill, of climbing trees and throwing Frisbees, playing football and having snowball fights. I admit I spent more than enough time sitting on my fat little backside playing Barbies, but I did all these things and more and had a ball! Do kids today really need an ad to encourage them to have real fun in the real world? If that's true then it is a sad, sad day for America.

The Bailout Blues

What the fuck is going on here? AIG gets $85 billion then sends their people on a $400,000 retreat and the government turns around and hands them another $38 billion? Are they on crack? According to this article on Marketwatch.com http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/senate-chair-gets-mad-over/story.aspx?guid=%7BCDA1827B%2DFC98%2D4320%2D80E9%2DCD0239BDC80F%7D AIG has yet another retreat planned! And Wachovia is sending up to 75 of its brokers and their significant others on a cruise of the Greek Isles. This is beyond ridiculous! I have no words to describe how offended I am. Remember when everyone used to complain about the "welfare moms" who were driving Cadillacs? How is this any different? These companies are accepting bailout money and then continuing to behave irresponsibly. Talk about fucking hubris. Kudos to Senator Baucus. I hope he can actually do something to bring these greedy bastards down.

Look, I did NOT buy a house I couldn't afford. I didn't dupe stupid people into taking out adjustable rate mortgages on houses they couldn't afford. I didn't package up bad loans and sell them as securities. I didn't rate said securities as AAA. So tell me again why I'm stuck footing the bill for these shenanigans? Fuck every last one of them. Let the banks fail and they can all rot in hell. All my money's in liquid assets (aka wine!) so I've nothing to lose now that my 401k has been decimated. I can live on ramen. I've done it before. Let Wall Street feel what it's like to suffer for change. Maybe I'll never be able to retire, but if it means these bastards get what's coming to them, I don't care. I am too incensed to care.

I do have one really good idea for helping Wall Street out though. I know exactly how they can raise a ton of money. Did you hear how Lehman Brothers CEO, Richard Fuld, was punched in the face while running on a tread mill in the gym after announcing Lehman would be filing for bankruptcy? Knocked him right the fuck out, apparently. I know, it really is awesome! Now, wouldn't you like a similar opportunity? I know I would. I say we take all these Wall Street Fat Cats, especially any recipients of golden parachutes and any prick who goes on that cruise of the Greek Isles, and we line them all up and for $10 anyone who wants to can take their best shot. $20 for a shot to the groin! I think there would be plenty of interest from all the Joe and Jane Six-Packs out on Main Street, don't you? Look, I know violence is wrong, but I'm just saying.