A spooky, scary and spine-chillingly appropriate holiday story, also see: hilarious cautionary tale

Awhile back, my good friend Alex was telling a group of us a story that I have never quite been able to shake from my mind about her married life. I still laugh out loud when I envision the real-life scene. Alex was one of my roommates in our off-campus house during the college years and I am well-versed in her romantic history. In those days, there was more than one random Tuesday afternoon when I'd walk into the house to be greeted with Madonna's Justify My Love pounding through the speakers and the view of a veritable Splendor on the Carpet because Alex and her college boyfriend didn't have class that day.

Never mind that she had her own bedroom with her own door, or that she knew when her roommates would get home for the day. That kind of stuff never seemed to bother her at all.

I have so many great stories about living with her that I could fill a book, but I'll wait for my publishing deal to come through. I don't give it all away for free, you know! If you twist my arm a little, I might tell you the story involving candle wax removal...but not today! I have something else in mind for you. Without further ado:

Alex and her husband were looking to spice things up in the bedroom with a little bit of role playing. Her husband worked second shift and she suggested that one night after she's asleep he should come into the bedroom with a mask on--like an intruder--and, you know, seduce her. He shouldn't tell her in advance though, because that would ruin the surprise. So far, so good, right?

She assumed that when the night came, he would wear something like this:

A textbook ski mask. They had an entire front closet full of them.


Or this:

The bank robber look. Simple. Classic. Never goes out of style.


Or, if he was feeling REALLY creative maybe he'd show up in something like this:

She didn't REALLY think he'd go to the trouble of buying a mask with rhinestone detailing, but this was about as much credit as she was giving him for pulling out all the stops. That was the last time she'd ever underestimate his creativity.


Here's the part of the story which emphasizes the great divide between women and men, and how we are not wired the same way AT ALL.

Several weeks had gone by, and she drifted off to sleep one night, with nary a thought of their previous discussion. Her husband came home from work and figured it had been long enough for her to have put the "seduction by masked man" idea out of her mind so he excitedly went into action, going to the garage to pull out what he planned to wear from the very first time she brought it up. He just knew he had the perfect thing! He then skulked into the house, and tip-toed into their darkened bedroom. Just as he hovered over her side of the bed, he flipped on the low-wattage nightstand lamp while shaking her shoulder to wake her.

She groggily opened her eyes, to see this:

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Turns out he had an old Halloween costume in the garage that she didn't know about: Jason, from Friday the 13th


She screamed her head off, jumped up from the bed, and kicked him so hard that he fell to his knees. Her violent reaction shocked him! Her incredibly accurate kick knocked the wind out of him! This was NOT part of the plan! Even though he was reaching for her from the floor, attempting to say, "It's ME! It's okay, it's only ME!" all that was coming out of his mouth was a succession of low and indistinguishable moans of confounded pain. In the meantime, she ran to grab the kitchen phone and locked herself in the bathroom on the lower level of their house, where she immediately called 911.

By the time her husband gathered himself and made it downstairs, the police were already on their way, and boy, did he have some explaining to do.


Do yourself a favor this Halloween--and especially any other day of the year-- resist waking your loved one while wearing a terrifying costume, no matter how perfectly seductive you think it is.

And so it goes until the day you die

He quietly sang along to "Love Stinks" as if he truly believed in every word, and my excitement in the possibilities of where things were headed turned into feelings of impending doom.

LOVE STINKS

J. Geils Band

You love her, but she loves him
And he loves somebody else
You just can't win
And so it goes until the day you die

This thing they call love
It's gonna make you cry
I've had the blues, the reds and the pinks
One thing for sure

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

Two by two and side by side
Love's gonna find you, yes it is
You just can't hide
You'll hear it call
Your heart will fall
Then love will fly
It's gonna soar
I don't care for any casanova thing
All I can say is love stinks

(Love stinks)
Love stinks yeah yeah

I've been through diamonds
I've been through minks
I've been through it all
Love stinks

{The inner workings of my brain in certain real-life situations are not unlike frolicking through a minefield, or rather, MINDfield. Boom; explosion.}

A.) Things I won't be doing in this post, and B.) Why:

A.) Making references to blowing or eating.

B.) Because I'm a lady*.


Full story on my Piven birthday cake HERE. Thanks, Missy! You're the bomb!



*Why does everybody always laugh when I say that?!

My father's daughter

Happy Birthday, Dad!

For as long as I can remember, I've always been told that I'm my father's daughter. If you believe that astrology has any affect on your personality traits, then I suppose it was kind of unavoidable since I was born the day before his 31st birthday. We share--for the most part--the same sense of humor, the same temperament, the same taste in cars and the same ass-kicking driving style (and speaking of driving: the same ability to drive my mom crazy), the same lack of patience with rude people, the same inability to beat-around-the-bush, the same love for people-watching, the same fascination with all things Chihuly, and the same appreciation for anything that is of-from-around-or-about Italy. Oh yeah, we also have the same nose, though mine is MUCH smaller and cuter.


No need for an actual DNA test, just look at us. Dad at hardball league, holding a beer. I'm the shorty behind him, holding a beer of my own, or so it seems. 1982-ish.

Whenever our family is sitting around reminiscing, our parents complain that my sister & I only remember "the bad stuff"; like having to spend every hot summer Saturday weeding underneath the biggest magnolia tree you've ever seen, or how when we were teens we had a 10-minute time limit on every phone call and how they always knew when time was up even if they were an entire floor below us.

How about the time I got grounded in 4th grade for 6 whole weeks because I got a 'D' in handwriting, while the fact that Dad's handwriting was so sloppy he was often asked if he was a doctor seemed to escape him as he handed down my punishment. Irony, even as a 9-year old, was not lost on me. I just had enough sense to keep it to myself.

I also enjoy bringing up how I had a 10pm curfew all the way through high school when my friends were practically just beginning their weekend night festivities... but all those "bad things" are sometimes more entertaining to look back on now that my sister & I are adults.


Just let your soul glo! The afro seen 'round the world. 1979-ish.


The truth is that there was a lot more good stuff than bad. As a teen I would have disagreed, but it turns out that it's important to have parents who set boundaries and have high expectations of their children because as our parents always say, we turned out alright after all!


Dad & Mom, dating in their teens, plotting how to torture their future daughters with things like personal responsibility and curfews. THE NERVE!


Mom & Dad. Venice Beach, 1993-ish.

Thanks for everything, Dad. I'll try to bring up more of the good stuff when we sit around telling stories the next time, like when you taught me (at 16) to drive your hot new stick shift sports car and I almost killed us in the middle of an intersection when the car died as I was trying to make a left turn. You didn't lose your cool with me, not for a second; even when I was panicking because I couldn't get the clutch and the gas pedals synced up and the car died again, after it sputtered a few feet closer to the swiftly approaching oncoming traffic.

You just yelled, "GO! GO! GO!" and then... I did! That pretty much sums it up. You're always there, spurring me on to simply put my mind to something and do it.


Clearly up to no good in 1987. Speaking of that 'fro... It looks as if Missy decided to sport that look too, but it was just the wind.

You're the best, and not only is that a compliment for you, but it's a compliment for ME because I'm proud to say that even after all of these years, people still tell me that I'm my father's daughter. But they always add, "with a MUCH smaller and cuter version of his nose!" Really, they add that, I swear.

Happy Birthday! I Love you.

The Proposal: Timing really is everything!

The weekend we met, way back in 2005. Who is wrapped around who's finger, exactly?

I got an e-mail from my oldest (in years of friendship, not in age!) BFF last week, telling me about a conversation she had with her nearly 5-year old son, R. What you should know before reading any further is that they live several states away from me and though we talk on the phone often, we only get to see each other once/year.

The following will explain everything you ever needed to know about the effect I seem to have on men*:

I told R. your birthday is coming up and he wanted to color a picture for you. I told him you like hearts, so he asked me to draw some for him. As he was coloring them in, he said,

“I want to marry her, because I like her. I’m going to drive to her house and kiss her, and give her some flowers.”

Then he looked up from his artwork to ask,

“Wait, did anyone marry her yet?”

I said, “Not yet.”

He said,

“Good. I don’t know what time I’m going to grow up**, but when I grow up, that’s when I’m going to marry her***.”

That "AKA Your Husband" above his name makes this the best artwork by a nearly 5-year old (with help from his mother) of all time. OF ALL TIME!!!!!!


All I have to say is, Jeremy better step up his game (*cough* birthdayspankings *cough*) tonight!


*By "men", I mean "nearly 5-year old boys". Of course, I've dated several men who acted about that age...

**...who clearly didn't know what time they were going to grow up, either.

***Don't cry for me! Word has it that R. is going to propose to me with his favorite plastic spider ring. He is wise beyond his years.