Age 4
While at the beach one summer afternoon...
"Okay Danielle, time for lunch. Come over here and let me clean the sand off your hands."
Mother cleans hands off and places PB&J sandwich in my lap. I stare and stare down at it.
"What's wrong? Why aren't you eating your sandwich?"
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I have sand on my feet."
Age 5
"Mom, I can't go to Sunday School anymore."
"You can't? Why?"
"Because my Sunday School shoes hurt."
Age 9
"Mom, when I grow up, can I be Jewish?"
Age 10
Me and my mom are on line in a clothing store after dance class. A slightly older girl and her mom behind us.
Girl says to me, "What are you wearing?"
"My leotard and tights."
"Take them off."
"No." (Aren't you all proud?! I didn't take them off like I always do when told to!)
Age 12
After a long day of school, a dance recital, and a sundae at Friendly's we go home and my mom has to change me into my jammies I'm so tired. Out of my training bra comes some tissues.
"Oh Danielle. Why is there tissue in your shirt?"
"Because the boys at school punch me in the boobs and I needed the extra cushion."
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
2 People in a Twin vs. Queen
The winner of this match might seem quite obvious, wouldn't you say? I will prove otherwise.
So, there is this boy that I know in San Francisco. And now I really know him wink wink. When I first moved here, I was overwhelmed by the cost of living. Especially in the posh neighborhood I live in. Boy also lives in the same neighborhood. By himself. And his only source of income is being a door guy 3x's a week. He's cute and charming and funny and nice. But that's not why I became so interested in him. I suddenly became not just interested, but OBSESSED with how he could live this lifestyle! Trust fund kid? Gambler? Drug Dealer? I did research. I asked his friends for some hints, if there was a big secret about him I didn't know. I asked him questions without it seeming obvious or nosey (believe it or not, I pulled this off quite well for me). This then forced us to have conversations over drinks over drinks over drinks to "I lost my keys can I stay with you?" so I could finally see if he was living in squalor or grandmas basement. But surprisingly enough he lives in a cute studio that SORTA has a bedroom. By SORTA has a bedroom I mean he has a closet that he can stuff a twin size bed into and still close the doors.
My experience of sleeping quarters:
I have a queen-sized bed. I like to sprawl out and have pillows under my head, against my back and in between my legs (a pillow being 2nd choice of course). When someone else is in a queen-sized bed with me, I rarely find myself asking him or her to move over. Megan and Jill are the two I can remember quickly off the top of my head without delaying the posting of this latest blog. I have slept with this San Fran boy in my bed before and because there is so much room, he can allow himself to sleep on his back which then enables him to snore which keeps me awake because I have to constantly ask him to flip on his side. So not much sleep is taking place for me because he keeps rolling back over every hour. When I've slept in his cubbyhole, here is what I find: You must stay on your sides...doesn't matter who is spooning who (I actually prefer back to back) and this stops him from snoring. Because it's harder to flip-flop-move-around, you stay in place for most of the night so you actually aren't waking up as much! I always take the wall side. And I learned this the hard way. It involved drunken sex in the dark with a glass next to the bad that smashed when landed on. Oops!
The findings:
Boy offers up why he prefers a twin “It forces cuddling!” I actually don’t mind sleeping in a twin, as long as it’s with someone. That happens to be of the opposite sex. And after I’ve had a few drinks. And I get some. And then I get the wall side.
ps. in case you were wondering, I did some more questioning and rationalizing and got to the bottom of my investigation. He lives in a rent control building. He is a California resident, so the time he took me to the zoo it only cost 12 bucks. He has no car or debt or cable. He drinks for free where he works. And he only eats fruit and corndogs. God Dammit Dani!
So, there is this boy that I know in San Francisco. And now I really know him wink wink. When I first moved here, I was overwhelmed by the cost of living. Especially in the posh neighborhood I live in. Boy also lives in the same neighborhood. By himself. And his only source of income is being a door guy 3x's a week. He's cute and charming and funny and nice. But that's not why I became so interested in him. I suddenly became not just interested, but OBSESSED with how he could live this lifestyle! Trust fund kid? Gambler? Drug Dealer? I did research. I asked his friends for some hints, if there was a big secret about him I didn't know. I asked him questions without it seeming obvious or nosey (believe it or not, I pulled this off quite well for me). This then forced us to have conversations over drinks over drinks over drinks to "I lost my keys can I stay with you?" so I could finally see if he was living in squalor or grandmas basement. But surprisingly enough he lives in a cute studio that SORTA has a bedroom. By SORTA has a bedroom I mean he has a closet that he can stuff a twin size bed into and still close the doors.
My experience of sleeping quarters:
I have a queen-sized bed. I like to sprawl out and have pillows under my head, against my back and in between my legs (a pillow being 2nd choice of course). When someone else is in a queen-sized bed with me, I rarely find myself asking him or her to move over. Megan and Jill are the two I can remember quickly off the top of my head without delaying the posting of this latest blog. I have slept with this San Fran boy in my bed before and because there is so much room, he can allow himself to sleep on his back which then enables him to snore which keeps me awake because I have to constantly ask him to flip on his side. So not much sleep is taking place for me because he keeps rolling back over every hour. When I've slept in his cubbyhole, here is what I find: You must stay on your sides...doesn't matter who is spooning who (I actually prefer back to back) and this stops him from snoring. Because it's harder to flip-flop-move-around, you stay in place for most of the night so you actually aren't waking up as much! I always take the wall side. And I learned this the hard way. It involved drunken sex in the dark with a glass next to the bad that smashed when landed on. Oops!
The findings:
Boy offers up why he prefers a twin “It forces cuddling!” I actually don’t mind sleeping in a twin, as long as it’s with someone. That happens to be of the opposite sex. And after I’ve had a few drinks. And I get some. And then I get the wall side.
ps. in case you were wondering, I did some more questioning and rationalizing and got to the bottom of my investigation. He lives in a rent control building. He is a California resident, so the time he took me to the zoo it only cost 12 bucks. He has no car or debt or cable. He drinks for free where he works. And he only eats fruit and corndogs. God Dammit Dani!
Friday, November 7, 2008
If you like to laugh at my stories, don't read this one.
I've never been proposed to. And I probably never will. I type this with a smile on my face, not a tear in my eye so don't go feeling all bad for me. But I have been told I'm loved in creative (and not so creative) ways. One of my ex's called me up and told me he had gotten me a ticket to the Flaming Lips Boombox experiment 1 hour before showtime. He came and got me (slight buzz on) and we ran down to Central Square. As we were descending the stairs to the club with dozens of others, he turned and pulled me in close and said "Dani, I fucking love you." I almost burst into tears...and then saw one of the coolest shows ever. Another memorable "I love you" was during a snowstorm. We were outside frolicking around in the snow. Boyfriend calls me over and points to the ground where he had written "I LOVE YOU" in the snow. Eventually the snow melted as did the relationship.
Now to my point. If you are going to propose to someone, here is some advice. It doesn't matter where you do it, how you do it, and what strip mall gumball machine you got the ring from. Here is the key: have an amazing plan for after she says yes, or a pint of bourbon for when she says no. A concert and reserved table/booth equipped with champagne and fun friends is my best idea yet. And for the losers who get turned down, Knob Creek is bourbon of choice.
Go get 'em tiger!
Now to my point. If you are going to propose to someone, here is some advice. It doesn't matter where you do it, how you do it, and what strip mall gumball machine you got the ring from. Here is the key: have an amazing plan for after she says yes, or a pint of bourbon for when she says no. A concert and reserved table/booth equipped with champagne and fun friends is my best idea yet. And for the losers who get turned down, Knob Creek is bourbon of choice.
Go get 'em tiger!
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