Mixed Signals

Have you ever gotten a mixed signal? Maybe from a guy, your boss, the clerk behind the counter? Well, I just got one from New York. I’m not kidding… check out the photo. This street light is really indicative of what New York really is-a City of contradiction. I just spent a good 48 hours in New York for a conference and so I feel incredibly confident in making the following conclusions:

-The buildings are gorgeous... or are they? This was the view from my 4th floor $455/night room. Did I mention room service charged $28 for eggs and bacon.

-I thought I had the world’s smallest kitchen in my $640/month all utilities included apartment in Madison… turns out I was wrong. New York apartments are 5 times as expensive (literally) and they have kitchens five times as small.

-New York garbage days are gross…. They are surpassed only by Venice garbage days where the garbage actually stacks up on the sidewalk and spills over into the water. I actually saw a rat swimming along a gondola… pretty romantic, eh?

-New York is definitely not the City that never sleeps.... despite rumors to the contrary. Being that I had a $55/day per diem, I decided to head to Laguardia airport early to treat myself to a nice dinner for all of my hard work. I got there at 8:15pm for a 9:40pm flight. Turns out every restaurant was closed and so I got to eat Burger King.... Let me tell you, ten bucks got me real far. Just a little f-u from the City that never sleeps.

Why I am over wanting to date George Clooney and now just want to be him

It is quite possible that I am the last to realize this but, George Clooney has got it made. He has a successful career (note- this post is not about how great it would be to be a hollywood star because quite frankly, I think that is arguable. His success, however, is key), homes around the world (ok, maybe just Lake Como and LA, but still), great friends, and inappropriate girlfriends (ok, had). Some of you may be saying that I am leaving out one very important trait- his deliciously good looks. I don't think it is those big brown eyes that got him here, I think he just has his priorities straight, knows what he wants, and doesn't apologize for it. It is for these three reasons that I want to be him.

First of all, he knows he doesn't want to get married or have kids, and he doesn't apologize for dating women that aren't trying to marry him or get knocked up (or they are completely delusional). I am hoping that his stand on legal coupling lightens things up for others out there (ie, moi) choosing the same path.

Perhaps it is my deep-rooted oppositionalism hard at work but I think marriage is silly. Granted there are perks-- tax breaks, insurance, and that whole allowed in the hospital past visiting hours thing. Those perks do not out weigh the costs for yours truly.

Since the percentage is now higher than 50, I'm gonna use the term 'most'. Most marriages end in divorce. Add up the cost of the divorce and the elaborate weddings people are planning these days (since it will now be for not) and I guarentee it is higher than the tax breaks, cost of insurance, and bail (from assaulting the nurse to stay late, of course).

I fully applaud my friends who are getting married (by the boat load). I equate my choice to not pursue this just like my choice to not pursue religion, the multiplication tables, telling time, and tying my shoes. Ok just kidding (kind of) about everything past religion. I am not any less moral because I don't subscribe to organized religion. And that is exactly what this is about- this is about the fact that something must be wrong with me if I don't want it. George and I beg to differ.

I simply want the freedom to do what I want, when I want. Doing whatever, whenever, has nothing to do with ignoring other's feelings or being inconsiderate... at least not for me. It does mean that if I want to jet off to Lake Como with a 25 year old cocktail waitress (er, waiter), then damnit, I will, so don't judge me.

George does plenty philantropic deeds to get people off his tail and I have gotten the message loud and clear. I am now a dontaing member of Feed the Children. It may only be 40 bucks a month, but you can't get a seat on the board overnight.

About that success of his. I get that his freedom comes from being insanely financially secure. I am shooting for that myself (slowly but surely) so I can squash the argument that it is economically in my best interest to couple off. (Perhaps the most annoying argument I've heard. I am SO not a femme-Nazi but come on, since when do we need a man ladies?? Que the Pussycat Dolls.)

If I do decide to spend any considerable amount of time with somone, there won't be a clock ticking that says I need to get married and procreate. Here's why: I am simply missing that gene. Never the girl to dream of my wedding or being a mommy. Instead I used to have nightmares about both. I've never been into doing what everyone else does. I figure, what's the point? They've been there and done that and good or bad, I have gotten a front row seat.



And so I am. Doing something different. I'll be the first to admit this all may change. If it does (cringe) and you can prove that I am not under the influence while choosing this life, I will cheers you in all your righteousness. Until then, I'll just be me.

-Luci

The Eggsperiment

So, the other day I was watching Oprah… the subject “How do we treat the animals we eat?” It was a great discussion of CA’s Proposition 2 that would improve housing conditions for certain types of animals. While I was initially scared to watch the show (I thought for sure that they would try to convert me to a vegan) the show was pretty tame. Instead of preaching the vegan lifestyle, they promoted free-range organic farming. Once again, I am way ahead of the game. I already buy free-range organic eggs, milk, meat, etc. Yeah, it is way more expensive than the regular stuff, but I eat less of it so in my eyes it all works out. One exception: restaurants. I eat out quite a bit and if I don’t like the vegetarian option, I eat regular eggs, milk, meat, etc.

Take Thursdays…. Every Thursday we have a staff breakfast at this cute breakfast place. I think their food is great however their vegetarian bfast options suck and they don’t offer free-range anything. So my question is how should I go about making this change happen? Should I ask to talk to the manager and advocate for a free-range egg option? Can I BYOE (bring my own eggs).? This is the start of my eggsperiment. I’ll keep you updated.

-Djo Djo

Wedding Buyer’s Remorse?

So I just returned from visiting San Diego. My family and I headed out there for my cousin’s wedding. Being that her wedding was just 6 weeks out from my own wedding, and being that I’ve attended only a handful of weddings in my life, I really did not know what to expect. It wasn’t until I got there that I realized this glamorous California wedding was going to put my little Illinois wedding to shame…

My cousin’s wedding was held on an island in San Diego that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. She had a wedding planner (as opposed to moi, early referenced bridezilla who made all my own centerpieces, programs, etc.). She had a 6 piece professional band (as opposed to my DJ who when I complained about the music on my wedding day refused to change it, saying, “it’s not just your wedding, it’s my reputation”). Even the speeches were significantly better. Much, but not all of this, was due to the fact that her budget was significantly higher than mine.

And so, for a few minutes (okay hours), instead of enjoying the day and being happy for my cousin, I found myself comparing just about everything. It drove me nuts. Maybe I should have gotten the photo booth. Maybe I should have printed dinner menus. Maybe, maybe, maybe…. It is obviously too late for all of that. (In theory) we only get one wedding and I can’t change mine.

Later, as I drove to the airport, I stared at the California mountains, thinking about just how beautiful they were… Then, I thought to myself, why don’t I live here?! It certainly beats 100 inches of Wisconsin snow! But after thinking about it some more, I realized that I would never be happy in California. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful, it’s just not me (that and the fact the Californians piss me off). And then came the Mr. Roger’s moment—neither wedding was better… they were just different. Equally special and equally different. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure that out.

So, in the end, the moral of the story is an obvious one: comparisons will drive you nuts. Other couples will have better weddings, better cars, better houses, etc. While sitting in my crappy little apartment in Wisconsin, I will be busy reminding myself that while happy cows may come from California, the simple yet elegant ones come from Wisconsin.

First Stall Folly

I swear that I have read somewhere (and yes, it could have been a Cosmo) that the first stall is the least used in the ladies room and thus the least germy. Has anyone else heard that? True or not, it is the basis for a theory that I might just test...

Theory: The first stall of the 8th floor ladies room at my work is the most oft used.

Rationale: The 8th floor (more than any other floor) is jam packed with a.) females, b.) academics, and c.) specifically, scientists (who constantly read/write scientific research and thus may be familiar with/authored this study).

Real cutting edge research, I know. I always head to the first stall and just want to know if I am crazy, in good company, and/or need to switch it up.

-Luci

Today I was yelled at by a 73 year old woman...

Yes, folks and she actually made me cry... in public.

Now, I know what you must be thinking... anyone can handle a cotton-top (for those of you not down with Shelbyville lingo, that means old person). Yes, one would think. Now, don’t get me wrong, I work for the government. I literally get paid to have people yell at me. I handle aggressive alders, tavern owners, etc. all the time. So, why was this old lady able to reduce me to tears? She was livid that I would not allow her to volunteer to work at a late-night taxi stand. Did I mention the stand runs until 3am? Did I mention that she is 73 years old?

Yes, so there she is waving her finger in my face, calling me a liar-saying that I was making up excuses not to let her volunteer at the stand. There I am trying (unsuccessfully) to explain the situation, hungry bc its 3pm and I haven’t had an opportunity to eat lunch, and exhausted from multiple vaccinations inserted into my arm the prior day. It was not until I started to see people around the room start to stare at me (assessing the situation and trying to figure out whether I had killed her dog or something) that my eyes started to well up with tears. Somehow, I managed to escape being yelled at by my parents, teachers, etc. through my entire childhood only to work for the government and get screamed at by everyone and there mother (or in this case grandmother)... constantly.

Oh, the irony.

-Djo Djo