Results tagged "Tina Fey"

A few weeks ago I was having lunch with a real blonde. I use the term ‘lunch’ loosely because we were both really just enjoying cheesy-yum-goodness — aka french onion soup — and not more than a cup at best. On the sides we had sodas…. Beer, wine or martinis would have been way more appropriate and totally more our style, but what with my being pregnant and all, I appreciated all efforts made to reel in our inner boozehounds. And I say that with love in my heart… and because nothing says love like slurping cheese gracefully.

It was during this meeting that I found myself in awe. Here I was, yet again enjoying the company of someone that I met over the internet. And I mean, it’s not unimaginable… not anymore. I can count on TWO HANDS the number of people that I know who are happy in relationships that began via www. And not that I’m looking to start anything fancy — like bejeweled aprons and yellow cashmere stilettos – aka INVESTED — I’m really excited that a few friendships which began because of this blog have sustained so far… It really makes life way more interesting than just knowing people. Not that just knowing you is boring or anything, but yeah, internet friend turned ‘real life’ kinda has a little bling to it. Because what is the big difference anyway, right? BECAUSE, I was in AWE, people. Which is semi-equivalent to being the queen of the geeks… because it took a lunch sitting across from blonde perfection for me to realize that slowly home-dying my hair with CVS bought poison, AKA – Sarah Jessica Parker, in an attempt to stop being a fake blonde, was NOT the answer. I needed real hair help immediately.

And thank goodness, because even my emergencies-only hairdresser shrieked with horror when he saw what had become to my attempts to Go Blonde Gone Wrong… the DVD is due out in early 2011 (Rated R for Responsible). Apparently bleach had leaked into the confines of the brunettedome… Making for haste in recovery. And it was tedious… the color selections — the products.. and then eventually the “We’re going to do the WHOLE HEAD” prescription with label readings to avoid hazardous chemicals, spambots and of course… American Girl Dolls. I was in it halfway when I started having visions of the scene in Baby Mama when Liz Lemon — I mean Tina Fey — or whoever her character was, catches Amy Poehler coloring her roots…

And if you want to get a glimpse of the newly brunetted (again) me – shoulders down, check out last week’s post on what and what-not to share with the internet… aka Tell All. I’ll be here, all safe and brown, but with fabulous highlights, waiting my mandatory 6-8 weeks until I need to trim and or highlight… you never know.

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Brooch production has been halted.

Because when I wasn’t busy trying to get my almost three year old to enter the local Montessori school, I was stressing myself out over at Mamapedia by allowing others to make me feel like a bad parent. Which I’m not… but I may as well fancy myself some sort of mental masochist because there’s no real reason for me to seek out the advice of others online when I’m already treating my Psychi Cortex like a punching bag. The portion of my brain that is associated with abstract thought and judgement. Because, yes — I sent my two year old to school even though he’s two going on three in approximately ten weeks, and he seemingly hates it. But we aren’t giving up. But we are. But we’re not. But we’ll see. But he’s too young. But he’s ready. But he says he wants to go. But he says he wants to stay home. But I want it to be okay to start drinking at 10am.

And here I am defining discouragement. Coming to terms with the fact that this might not work while turning this into something about me. I want my week back. I want summer. I hate school. I thought that running and closing a design firm, handling budgets and the lack thereof and dealing with the IRS was stressful. Not to mention the Gangsters, Madoffs and Shistas. Dudes, Montessori takes the flag pole AND the pledge of allegiance — boxes them up with a bunch of cinder blocks and other assorted grunkle, climbs to the 32nd floor and then drops the box on your head. And if one more preschool teacher gaze of “oh that kid” catches my eye, I might just lose my marbs ALL OVER circle time — but at least my brooch will be undoubtedly eye catching and oh so sweet.

AND IT WAS SO MUCH FUN?!?!
(how’s that for a segway to enlightenment?)

I blogged about the brooches.
I took in “orders”.
I continued to make brooches.
I wrapped them up.
I mailed them out.

I mailed them out to people that I barely know, some that I’ve known for most of my life and others that I have never met. And I did all of this free of charge and because I wanted to. It was probably the strangest thing that I’ve done lately, and yet beyond therapeutic during a time of random torture. And yes, manic, but totally worth it and I’ll do it again in a heart beat. So while the production has been put on hold for more important matters — like deciding the probable future of another human being. I can’t wait to keep going, so if you missed out or felt a little shy last time — SNAP OUT OF IT. I want to make you a brooch…. Just look at the results!

Absence!

Vapid!

Buggin!

Punker!

Duf!

Wicked!

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Can we talk about stuff? The kind of stuff that accumulates over time. The kind of stuff that you think you need or might need someday? The stuff that you think you’re being really really organized about and then you forget about it until you decide to tackle the situation and you can’t even remember why you kept the stuff to begin with? Like a pile of rolodex cards for the rolodex that you threw away with the invention of the computer. Or gobs and gobs of receipts–from 2002. Or how about art projects that you thought killed in college–now, not so much save for the hours of tedious yellow marker.

Because I’m still in the process of moving out of my space in Bridgehampton and back into my home office… which is requiring a massive reorganization before bringing more stuff in… which means that I have to go through it all to make sure that the colored pencils that are over a decade old are still worth a damn. Or the design trade publications from 1998 that I moved from one state and then another and yet another and still haven’t read. Do you think the theories will still apply? Ordinarily I would walk away from this situation in an attempt to avoid the hives that are slowly forming up my neck — but I don’t have any choice in the matter. I used to just tiptoe around the stuff… quietly, not wanting to disturb, occasionally opening the closets or drawers whispering.. hello in there – just let me sit at my computer… but now the other stuff is coming and therefore this stuff needs to go.

And it is with this task that I stand before you, OH DESK. Help me. Giant universe filled with lots of other stuff– as my pitch pierces my own ears… And, does anyone have a blindfold? Because I’m getting all teary-eyed having just found an awesome pen and I can’t watch. How do you throw it away? Do you want it? Maybe I’ll place an ad – “Stuff, in need of a good home. Will work with other stuff.” Or maybe I’ll just put it all back and pile more stuff on top… or maybe, just maybe…

In other news today… and before I drown myself in projects circa 1995, Aiming Low is repeating this post today. You can either read it here – or you can go there.. Heck, you can read it in both places if you’d like… because the season for repeats is looming upon and, although I have brown hair and she has the same glasses as me, I am not Tina Fey (shocker) and therefore don’t get paid residuals. Just put the hate down. 

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