I Like Mean, Sneaky Shit

Mean, Sneaky Shit

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Frugalreader

By Popular Demand: A Cagney Update

It's been about a month since my roommate Cagney moved in. Her door remains closed. However, she has made herself at home in other ways.

Cagney feels free to drip bright red Gatorade all over the kitchen floor, counters, dishtowels, etc. She also takes time to spill salt and other bug-attracting foods in the cabinets when she remembers to. Cagney feels comfortable enough to leave crumbs all over the counters. She is talented enough to find ways to use ALL FOUR counters to make ONE sandwich. It's really quite impressive.

Despite her "different" housekeeping standards, she's quite nice. She invited me to go with her on some type of tour of San Francisco this weekend, which I'm looking forward to. She always offers me some of whatever she cooks, whether it's pancakes or cupcake batter stuffed in icecream cones. Sweet girl.

When our lease is up, I will be getting a new roommate.

Actually, You *DID* Promise Me a Rose Garden

One of the things my parents always did was to be careful not to make promises to me they wouldn't or couldn't keep. They would never promise me they'd stay alive forever. They promised to love me forever, even though they might not always like me. If I asked my mother to promise to not tell my father something, she'd always say it depended on what my secret was. They always promised I could tell them anything and they'd still love me. They always promised me I'd have a home wherever they lived.

That last one is a lie. I know, because I tried to take them up on it at one point. I was living in Florida at the time, had gotten fired, couldn't get another job, was running out of money, and called to ask my parents if I could come home. They had ALWAYS said I would have a place to stay with them whenever I wanted or needed. Growing up, if my mother and I were watching a Lifetime movie that involved domestic violence, she would always remind me that when I got married, if my husband EVER hit me, I was to come straight to her home, no matter what time of day or night, no matter if we'd gotten in a fight, no matter what. That would then prompt her to launch into her "You and your brother will always have a home with us" speech. Liar.

I am sure if I called my mother today to tell her how hurt I am that when I really needed what she'd promised me she went back on her promise, she'd say she doesn't remember the conversation at all. She never remembers anything bad about herself. Only bad things about me.

My mother can't remember a 3 hour phone conversation where I was hysterically crying and how I told her I considered myself an absolute total failure to have to be asking, but I didn't have money to pay rent the next month so could I come home and she said no. But she can rattle off with no problem exactly how many lamps I broke between the ages of 4 and 11.

So I'm really hurt by this. I'm angry and hurt. I just wanted to tell somebody that.

It would be nice if I could be over the hurt I feel by the time I'm 30 - that's my goal. Not just the hurt from this one promise, but all the things they've done that have both hurt my feelings, and caused me to have a hard time being a person out in the world. Some people want to be married, or finished having kids, or have traveled through Europe by the time they're 30. Those would all be great for me too, though honestly I don't see them happening. But being over my parents? That's potentially attainable. I hope. So I'm aiming for it, and we'll see how far I've gotten by then.

Show Me Your (My) City

I lived in South Florida for four years. During that time I went to the beach a grand total of four times. I went into Miami three times. I went to a flea market once. I lived half a mile from Butterfly World but never went. I never went to the IMAX theatre in downtown Fort Lauderdale even though I worked 4 minutes away. I never went strawberry or orange picking (fruits Florida is known for). I never did much of anything that didn't involve a bookstore or mall or air conditioning.

That's not how I wanted it to be. When people would come to visit me (and by 'people', I only mean my immediate family) I never knew what to do with them, because I didn't know of any good places. Did my parents really need to fly 1,000 miles only to go out to dinner at the Outback? I think we both know the answer to that.

So now I'm in San Francisco. It's going to be different here. I'm going to explore. I'm going to try new things. I am going to know of great non-chainfood restaurants. When I go to visit in NY and people ask why I like SF, I will be able to rattle off a whole list of great things I love doing here. I'm going to NY at the end of April - it's time to get cracking.

So far I've gone to Mount Tam (loved it!), ridden over Golden Gate Bridge (would like to walk it), gone through the rainbow tunnel (one of those things if I had a camera I'd have taken a picture of), participated in Dine About Town (love, love, LOVED it, and now have a restaurant better than Outback to take people to), have become a regular at the Farmer's Market and Ferry Building, have been to Fisherman's Wharf, and have walked up hills so steep in North Beach that the streets had concrete steps built into them.

But I need more. MORE, MORE, MORE! Where else do I want to go? What else is there? I am not good at going places for the first time by myself. I need inexpensive places to go that are somewhat easy to get to by foot or mass transit.

I am so excited to go everyplace, just as soon as I find out where that is located. All suggestions welcome. All systems go. And if you'll come with me the first time, even better.

My Newest Obsession

When I was young I was obsessed with television. I recall in second grade being in my bedroom trying to write a book report, and crying as I heard the opening music to Punky Brewster. I knew I wouldn't be allowed to watch tv since my book report wasn't finished. My mother called me downstairs into the den, and asked why I was crying. "Because Punky Brewster is on and I'm missing it writing my Helen Keller report!" It turned out the reason my mother called me downstairs was BECAUSE Punky Brewster was on and she was going to let me watch after all! (It's 21 years after that happened, and I still remember; take note of that, Parents - your kids will remember what you do for them.)

My parents put a lot of effort into getting me away from my tv obsession in high school. It's not real life, you can't let tv interfere with real life... It worked. Very well. Almost too well. It drove my mother nuts that by 12th grade, I could walk out of the den at 10:46pm, right before the killer was caught, the rapist was brought to justice, the kidnapped son was reunited with his family, etc. (Yes, we watched a lot of Lifetime movies.)

Now I am an adult and can watch tv to my heart's content. However, I am older. Wiser. More particular. And now, I am obsessed.

Here is the show I am obsessed with: Intervention

It is AMAZING! The first episode was last night. I had been looking forward to it for a month! It TOTALLY lived up to all my expectations! My rule for movies is that in order for me to love them they must fit all of the following criteria:

1. Make me laugh
2. Make me cry
3. Move me - make me think. Make me say "wow". Make me see the word in a new way. Inspire me.

I do not have this rule for loving television, but Intervention fit the criteria anyway.

First let's talk about the actual interventions. Maybe it was just the editing of all the film that was shot, but Tommy's was great and moving, and Alyson's was just... whatever.

Tommy's best friend (a guy) cried and said he did not mentally have it in him to stay friends with Tommy if he didn't change. Tommy's sister said if he didn't go to rehab she would no longer allow him near her children because of his temper. Tommy cried when she said that (who wouldn't?). He was shocked, touched, moved, embarrassed, relieved, and humbled by his intervention.

Alyson, on the other hand, was just... whatever. So her dying father read her a letter he'd written. So her very pregnant friend was there. None of it moved me at all, because none of it moved her. She gave exactly what was expected of her. She said all the right things, cried at the right times, did what she was supposed to. It almost seemed like she only cried because someone behind the cameras was holding a cue card that said "Start the tears - commence crying when father gasps for air before continuing his letter." Maybe that's why I don't think she'll make it - because you can't fool yourself forever. They last showed her at a rehab having 180 days clean. The little blurb at the bottom of the screen said the rehab hired Alyson to work there. I hope A&E does a follow up show towards the end of the season to let us know what happens.

Tommy - he's going to make it. Alyson - denial does not even begin to describe it! She was playing the game by saying all the right things, but it was so obvious she was not REALLY believing any of it. I foresee a relapse or two in her future. For her sake, I hope I'm wrong. But I don't think I am.

Let's also assume (a little wishful thinking on my part) you are in the know about such things - PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me the name and artist who sings the Intervention song!

Shit, I think *I* need an intervention for being addicted to Intervention!