Wednesday, June 27, 2007


This past Friday night I got roped into BINGO. Yes the game where letter and number permutations are drawn and called and one must get a row down, across, diagonal, and as I just found out, a postage stamp in the top right corner or all four corners.

Vince, his dad, his cousin, friends of our and I all played bingo at this smoke infused fire house down the street from us Friday evening. I stole glances at my phone periodically wondering if my friend Jon would call like he said he would and save me from this crazy night. It was not to be. Rather, this experience was meant to play out like something from of a movie. And not My Girl.

There I am, cute little me in a sundress sitting amidst old ladies, sketchy white trash folk, scary men with beady little eyes and tattoos, all puffing away, checking me out. They were all probably wondering what I was doing there. So was I.

The night goes on and I'm breathing in the toxic fumes, barely keeping up with combinations yelled and frantically stamping my 45th bingo sheet. Can I at least shout BINGO to make this night worthwhile???!!!

But the best would come when our family friend's 80 yr. old mother calls bingo just as the announcer is reading off another number (did she call bingo in time??) and all hells breaks loose because everyone thinks the old lady shouldn't be allowed to have her card proofed for bingo. It was fierce. These people were up in arms and relentless. For 5 minutes we went back and forth about whether Bernice called bingo in time. The troops were called in and finally they grant permission to read Bernice's card and here after all this hoopla -- she has bad bingo.

Yes. BAD BINGO. There is such a term. It's for when you call Bingo and in actuality, you don't have bingo. So all that squabbling and poor Bernice doesn't even have bingo!! Bonnie, her daughter, is across from her and says, "Mom, I'm so embarrassed! How could you?!" Meanwhile, I double over in laughter. The crowd is still sneering at our table over the logistics of the call, some smug that Bernice didn't win, some annoyed that we delayed the game, and Bonnie is hiding her face ashamed of her mother. I was dying. Clearly this was why I stayed - to witness the sheer madness of Bingo.

Vince and his cousin won once and damn near scared everyone in the room (this is an experienced crowd -- they raise their hands and mumble Bingo while Vince and Rob jump up, send their chairs flying backwards and scream Bingo at the top of their lungs - naturally) and now insist on returning 2-3 days a week. I may return with a camera. This could make for some fabulous documentary photos. My sister and I got the best laugh out of this story the next day imagining our grandmothers calling out bad bingo and getting the population in a fury.

Monday, June 25, 2007

90210 -- Again!

I'll preface this blog with this: I am not obsessed with any other TV show the way I am with 90210. Hell I don't even watch TV much anymore. But I was 12 when it premiered and it followed me through an entire decade...

Every so often I go through these moments where I catch an old episode of my gang and I get pathetically nostalgic for my favorite show of all time and lament (again) that it's off the air. Wah. It didn't help that the episode I caught was the LAST one ever. I watched it Saturday morning. Now 7 years ago I had the fam record it because I was across the globe in Greece when it aired and upon my return I watched and sobbed. Saturday I made fun of certain scenes (like WHY were Donna and David's bachelor/ette parties SO goddamn lame???) but I did get teary eyed at the last scene.

And as if I'm not already nuts (and as you can see, I am -- besides my sadness over the last episode, my sister and friends, we can quote episodes, remember random characters, relate most life experiences to this show), now YouTube preys on my nutty vulnerable 90210 side and I can sit here for hours watching snipets of old episodes, video colleges of Dylan and Kelly, Dylan and Brenda, all the love triangles that made those guys my best friends. Forever. What's a girl to do??

Embed random 90210 things into her myspace profile, that's what. And play the theme song not just on her cell phone but here too. And plot ways of getting DJs to play the theme song at a wedding (or even How Do I Talk To An Angel -- Ray, you were great until you hit Donna). Something ridiculous like that. I still say it's a shame that Vince and his groomsmen weren't into acting out the whole opening credit/song/stance/dance thing they do. There's always my sister's wedding...

Long live Dylan and Kelly.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Peace Out

Because I am not into the Sopranos, of course I have no idea tonight is the series finale. I have however witnessed grown men obsess over this show the last 8 years the way I obsessed over 90210 for 10 years. And just like the whole storyline there eventually grew old and slightly boring (I know, blasphemy) and it was time to peace it out, and tons of nonfans were applauding, I am the nonfan here breathing a sigh of relief...and while I don't know enough about the plot lines to know if they are stale (everyone gets whacked in the end, right?!), I do know I'll be happy to have a husband not revolve his life around HBO Sunday night.

Honestly, I'll be happy when One Tree Hill season ends this week and my Wednesday nights are free to take part in Powder Hour over at Plain Jane, the cute West Chester makeup boutique.

Thursday, June 07, 2007


I have specific places that when I am physically there, I cry. I have no idea what comes over me, but it's almost as if there is a presence from beyond that just seizes me and brings with it a flood of emotions.

My grandfather's grave is one such place. I could go to visit, leave some flowers and be fine. But the presence shows up and brings with it a few memories. Suddenly I'm vulnerable and recalling inspiring words and Saturday morning visits. I remember 2001 and all the loss I endured. Tears fall as the sun beams down on my face.

While the SJU campus brings a sense of peace to my heart and spirit, there are places there where memories and emotion intersect and a tear falls as I remember days when I was continuously pushed outside my comfort zones. 4 years is a long time to be somewhere...

Oddly, there is this one intersection - 309 and Lower State Rd. - that by forces unknown to me, unleashes a tidal wave of nostalgia and emotion. It's not just that I am leaving Doylestown (because this only happens on my way home), but that I'm leaving anywhere due north of that intersection. But maybe that's just it - it's about leaving...or rather when I was leaving. I used to scurry away from the office back then and take refuge in the little mosaic park (or some back corner of a restaurant) and scribble in my journal, confused and upset about my life, and most days cry for 10 minutes before wiping my eyes, buying my latte with a forced smile and shuffling back to my tiny hole in the wall. It was about work, about stress, about death. Actually, everything was dying or leaving. Me included. So by the time the day caught up with me - 15-20 min. after I left the office at 5:30 - it would spill out in the form of tears right as I sat waiting for my left arrow. I was never sure how I made it down 309 to the Turnpike without an accident. Usually I pulled myself together by the time I whizzed through EZ Pass, but this one day in July after a party, when I knew I was giving my notice the next day, I started crying there and didn't stop until I got home. 45 min. later.

There are other places...other places where I'd been and left, perhaps before I was ready...places where people had been and left before I was ready to let them go. I find myself in these places, where stuff intersects, but really they direct me to someplace in my mind where someone or something or someplace had a profound effect on me.

Hello Kitty

It doesn't get better than this.

Monday, June 04, 2007

It's My Party...

On the heels of a recent wedding - just when I thought I was finally finished with important weddings - came the news that lady friends of mine are expecting. I wasn't particularly surprised. I'm pretty good at calling who will be the next whatever and I suspected this wedding would bring with it a slew of announcements. Of course I'm very excited for my dear friends and their new arrivals.

Selfishly though, tons of people are due in the fall and in early December which means I need to make some more friends who will not have just given birth and can still come to my 30th birthday party. Yes, I am being selfish.

For those of you who don't know about my dream party - It's ringing in 30 old school style: Roller Skating. We may compliment this by throwing in some bowling, some dancing, some drinks, some good food. Maybe even some goodie bags (like the kind you took home from those parties in 1st grade).

It's hard enough having a birthday in December. Forget the gyping. Yes, there are people who do that, but they aren't our real friends anyway. I'm merely talking about how everyone else got parties or dinners throughout the year - that I happily attended and provided a card/gift - but because my special day fell smack between exams, a semester ending, Christmas, holiday parties, a million obligations (most of which included emptying your pockets of cash), I was slighted.

So my big plan is to nail this 30th birthday party date down in October...and make it for late November, first week of December. By involving a few activities over a weekend, people can come as they please to what they please. Simple and fun. Of course now the pool of friends who are able to come is diminishing.

Vince asked if I felt any pressure to have a baby now. What? I WANT MY STINKIN 30TH BIRTHDAY PARTY! For the record, I'm just whining. I love my friends dearly...I am happy for them. But no babies for me just yet ;)

Sunday, June 03, 2007

High Heels

I need high heels just to stand up
got to carry some stairs to get near enough
I need some wheels to move you around
I've borrowed some tools to chisel you down
tie me up and I'll confess
a thousand ways that make you statuesque

There are moments, and they creep up, usually after the excitement and adrenaline associated with something dies down, when navigating the world of small business that "I need high heels just to stand up" and measure up to those I admire.