Missed Connection for the Creepy Woman

It's no secret that I like to spend my time on the internet giving strangers a tough time. That's how I roll productively. One night, while scrolling through missed connections on Craigslist, I came across this:

"i was walking back home from lechmere. you came up from behind me and walked right next to me for a couple of seconds before going on ahead of me. that was so creepy. you should leave much more than half a foot between you and your fellow pedestrians at all times on an empty street after dark. thanks."

So, in summary, this woman had creeped this man out by walking. After thinking on this for ten or fifteen minutes, and as usual, unable to let it go, I posted a response:

"You were scared because a woman was walking next to you? She might have been trying to assist you...maybe by helping you find your testicles"

Yes, I threw the mundane and typical "Where are your balls?" jab at him. But, if any situation called for it, it was this one. He was creeped out by WALKING. The original poster, probably going through a similar "should I or shouldn't I respond" moment as I did, responded a few minutes later with:

"do you mean to say women can't be creeps? creepy behavior is creepy whatever the gender of the person. lol i wouldn't want her anywhere near my testicles"

So, a couple of things. Yes, women can be creeps. No, they cannot be creeps by walking next to you. That's not creepy behavior. I know that I'm blaming the victim here, but if men are going to start victimizing themselves because a woman is walking next to him, it's going to belittle all of the legitimate creepy things that happen to victims, like, oh I don't know...groping, flashing, raping, pillaging, plundering, sexual harassment, unwanted sexual advances, unwanted feels on a crowded T, public masturbation, throwing some Rohypnol in your liquor, positioning your camera up someone's skirt. You know, the stuff that is actually creepy. Not the stuff that everyone, including kids and dogs, do on a daily basis because they have to get from one place to another and that's how they do it.

At this point, another person responded with:

"Whatever dude.

I call bull shit.

As I recall you've been begging that woman to do more than just touch your testicles.

Hmmm, wonder why she stays away from them?"

Which prompted an eyeroll and a "dude, I'll handle this" from me. My next response was a two-parter:

"I don't believe I would characterize "walking next to you" as creepy behavior. Maybe you were going too slow and her pace was just a bit faster and it took her time to pass you. Was she staring at you while doing it? Did she bump into you a few times? Was she doing some weird dancing arm movements? All of that might be creepy. Walking? Not sure i see the creep factor there. You may be oversensitive

Maybe she didn't feel comfortable walking alone at 2 am and thought if she walked with you, no one would bother her. It's not always about you, mr. Self-Righteous"

 

Now, I had already guessed, as you probably have, that this guy was a whiny baby sissy pants. He used "lol" in a sentence and didn't capitalize anything, so possibly someone on the younger side of the spectrum. I was picturing Francis.

 

 

 

He proved me right with his next response:

"i had thought i could turn to CL to share the story of this horrifying incident without being subjected to this kind of ridicule. i suppose i was wrong?"

[Note: If I may interject here. What? You turned to CL hoping that you wouldn't be subjected to ridicule? CL is all about ridicule. Don't you have a mom or a best friend?]

you see [Note: I don't.], calling me self-righteous and over-sensitive, and even suggesting that i was going "too slow", is just blaming the victim of this type of creepy behavior. [Note: Hardly a victim, See above.] yes, staring, bumping into me and weird dancing arm movements would be much creepier. nevertheless, walking up right beside me, from behind me, in silence, when there was plenty of room on the sidewalk for her to keep her distance, is certifiably creepy. people have walked past me before in similar situations, but generally keeping the width of the sidewalk between us. i, myself, walk off the curb into the street to avoid creeping people out if i'm overtaking someone after dark on an empty street. [Note: Still not buying it.]

if this creepy woman was just uncomfortable and was hoping no one would bother her if she walked beside me, maybe she should have stopped to consider the possibility that *she* was very much bothering *me*? after all, i never signed up to be the personal escort/safety blanket of each and every woman. [Note: Always a gentleman, I see.] although, i would have been okay with it if she had just asked instead of acting as if she was entitled to my company without asking. [Note: Because asking, "can I walk with you? I don't want you to think that I feel as though I'm entitled to your company"; that's not creepy.]

i should also add that i was carrying a sandwich and up against a wire fence on my right, leaving me with fewer than normal options for defending myself or for escaping. [Note: "And officer, I couldn't defend myself, it would have meant dropping my sandwich."] i guess i should take the blame for deciding to carry a sandwich alone after dark on an empty street, limiting myself to just one free hand, and for not walking on the outer edge of the sidewalk so i could escape across the street if/when necessary? or maybe just tell the women you know not to be creeps?"

I laughed at this last response like the mean girls laughed at Josie Grossie.

He may have been messing with me, but I don't think so. Anyway, I couldn't help myself and I responded with:

"Dude, I can sympathize. There was this one time when a woman sat next to me on a bench. I relive it every single day."

And that was the end of it. Maybe he realized how silly he was being? I doubt it though. I think Francis, at this moment, is probably cowering in a corner because some "creepy" woman is eating chips across the street. Be brave, Francis. Be brave.

The Trials of Hosting

So, here's how I feel about throwing parties. Most of you know that I haven't been to a grocery store since 2009. Andrea loves to regale new friends with the story of how one time she asked me "Where do you get, like, chips and snacks?" And my answer was, "the liquor store?"

The last time that I threw a party was in 2003. My boyfriend at the time had a ton of no goodnik friends, but the deal was that if he cleaned up after them, they could be invited. I remember watching one of them sit in my kitchen and he had that look...the look that reality tv stars get when they're forced to eat 25 dragonflies or drink a jar of pickle juice and salsa together. The look of someone about to blow. Here was my dilemma. There was one bathroom in my apartment. I lived on the fifth floor, so there was no hope that he would get outside in the event of a vomit emergency. But, I really had to pee. When I couldn't wait anymore, I finally went into my bathroom. While in there, I heard my boyfriend's sister yell, "Oh my God, Mel, open the door!" I zipped up quickly and opened the door to my boyfriend's friend... throwing up all over my carpet. I vowed never again to throw a party.

Since October, I've been Ross and Rachel-ing it with this guy; let's call him "Bradley Cooper", or as I like to call him "Coop". On a recent ski trip with him and another couple, I brought up New Year's Eve and we decided that we would have a low key game night at my place. (This was all part of my elaborate plan to make sure that he spent New Year's Eve with me and not some other chick, but that's another story for another day). I had mentioned to a couple of other friends that we should get together on New Year's, so I sent an e-mail to those guys to tell them to join us.

As the days went on and as people asked me what I was doing for New Year's, my standard response was "I'm having Coop and some friends over. Come on by." And before I knew it, my low key game night had turned into a mini-party of 16. Apparently, according to my dad, I've been doing this my whole entire life. My mother would say to me, "Pick six girls in your class to come to your birthday party." And I would come home from school the week of my party and say, "is it ok if all the girls in my class come? Because I told them they could."

The morning before New Year's Eve, I did a quick head count in my head of how many people would be coming. I paused when it became more than ten and said to myself, "Now, that can't be right." But it was. I had no alcohol. No food. I didn't even have a place for all of these people to sit. And unlike my birthday parties, my mother wouldn't be there to do all the work!

And so, I made a list and I turned to my old friend, the internet. First, I researched the price of renting chairs and tables at the last minute. After my eyes popped back into my head, I sent a text message to Coop to ask him to bring some of his folding chairs to the party. Then, I started to think about how I was going to carry four bottles of wine, a 12 pack of beer, two bottles of champagne and three bottles of alcohol from the liquor store to my car to my apartment. And I googled "Boston liquor delivery." (Did you know that they do that?) After scheduling the alcohol delivery, I asked my co-worker who seems to host people at her house every weekend for some advice about the food. She gave me the recipes for some quick easy appetizers. And I realized that most of them could be found pre-made at the Market Basket deli counter. So, I ordered some platters. After this, I began to feel a little less stressed. It's not a lot of work to throw a party, if you make other people do stuff.

The one black fly in my Chardonnay was that I had to go Market Basket to pick up the platters. The weathermen had been predicting a three-day snowstorm. Blizzard plus New Year's equals crazy people. So, the store was a madhouse and probably not in the best condition for my "first day back". I've blocked out most of that trip. I know that there were shopping cart jams and crowds of middle-aged men on their cells with their wives. At the deli counter, there was a line to take a number to get in line. And I was stuck in the bread aisle for what seemed like three hours, until I was finally rescued by a savior in a blue smock with a bread cart. When my friends finally arrived at my house, I was sure to tell them, "Thank you. Thank you for being with me on this day. The day that I survived Market Basket."

Food shopping apocalyptic episode aside, the party turned out to be a great time.Yes, I've been living on Ritz Crackers, pepperoni, and taco dip for the past week and a half. But, having everyone at my place and ringing in 2014 together made it worth it. I may even do it again next year! Although next year, I'm calling Peapod.

An Open Letter to Tim Burton

Dear Mr. Burton,

Big fan! Seriously...Nightmare Before Christmas? Beetlejuice? Both classics. I'm writing because I have a great idea for the production of a movie. The problem is...I have no talent or money. You, however, have a lot of talent and money. Plus, I think this is your kind of thing. Now, that you've broken into the musical business (which, let's face it, is hip right now), I think that it would behoove you to direct and produce a remake of Jesus Christ Superstar. You don't really have to do much, except, you know, finance it and direct it. I've casted it for you:

Jesus Christ- Chris Cornell. This man was born to play Jesus Christ. Have you seen him? Look at this:

And have you HEARD him?? He would be amazing in this role. Listen to any album of his, and I'm sure you'll agree. (I recommend Songbook).

Judas Iscariot-Adam Pascal. Again, amazing voice. Born to play this role in a movie that I'm involved in, so that I can creepily follow him around the set and ask him to sing me lullabyes.

Mary Magdalene- Unknown. I have a couple of people in mind for this. I like Thandie Newton's look. I'm not sure if she can sing. We'll have to test her out. I'd like to get Beyonce in, but I think she actually sings too well. I mean, it's not like Mary Magdalene's songs are the vocal equivalent of rocket science.


Pontius Pilate- Adam Levine (tentatively). As you probably know, Adam Levine will be appearing on this season of American Horror Story. We know he has a great voice, and it would be kind of cool to have Pontius Pilate do some falsetto stuff to make it a little different than the original. I may change my mind after I watch him act, however.

King Herod-Johnny Depp. This is a perfect role for your boy. Tim, it's very clear that Johnny is the Portia to your Ellen, and you're in love with the guy. And he likes roles where he can be goofy and weird. So, everyone's a winner here.

Anyway, give me a call and we can set up some meetings and do lunch. Tell Helena that I said hi and that she has great hair.

Very truly yours,

Melly

The Importance of Being Punctual

Punctuality is an interesting thing. There are some people that don't mind when others are late and others who count it as their number one pet peeve. I think that a lot of it has to do with how late someone is. If you're waiting for the person for five minutes and they're most likely stuck in traffic and you're just kind of chilling at the bar while you wait, you're probably less irritated than, say, if you've been waiting for an hour on the street in front of the bar and they have no excuse and you start to get into the "Maybe they're not going to show up" frame of mind and begin to think that every one must be looking out of their office or apartment window thinking "oh, that poor girl. She's being stood up" and asking their co-worker or roommate, "is she still out there" every ten minutes, and the co-worker or roommate is saying "Yes" with a frown and "Maybe we should bring her some soup or tea or something" and...well, you know.

So, I decided to make a list of when it's ok to be late and when it's absolutely not. Let's start with...

WHEN IT'S OK TO BE LATE

1.) To your Wedding. This is the most perfect time to be late. It's already termed as "your day". You are supposed to make a grand entrance. And NOBODY can or will ever get mad at you. In fact, if and when the day comes for me, I'm planning on walking down the aisle whenever I'm damn ready. You might as well take advantage of it while you can and you can always blame it on the bridesmaids.

2.) Rock Concerts. It's kind of an unspoken rule that you straggle in to concerts. Everyone learns this lesson the hard way. You want to catch the opening band, so you get there right as the door opens. Then, you stand there, alone, in front of the stage. And when the opening band comes out, you feel awkward because it's almost like they're singing to you, since you're the only one there, but you feel rude walking away. So, you just kind of stand there and gaze at them, and sip your beer, occasionally nodding your head to the music because it gives you a chance to avert your eyes.

3.) To the Party. There's nothing wrong with this. As long as you actually get to the party. I bought a cell phone, got cable, read Harry Potter, started drinking, got my drivers' license at least five years after everybody else did. But, the important thing is that I got there.

4.) When you're already late. Look, if you're already going to disrupt the event or walk into the office after 9 a.m., you might as well make it fashionable and not walk in all frenzied.

WHEN IT'S ABSOLUTELY NOT OK TO BE LATE

1.) To Someone Else's Wedding. My mother's nightmare, which she has instilled in me by incessant nagging, is to get to a wedding at the same time that the bride is walking down the aisle. First of all, the bride is disappointed that you've already seen her in her dress and have missed the above-referenced grand entrance. Plus, when you walk in late, you feel really self-conscious as it is...then you add silence, hardwood floors, and heels. And then your mom gives you that "I'm so disappointed in you" look. That last one might just be me.

2.) Surprise Parties. Similar to the wedding scenario, my mother will get equally upset with you if you walk into a surprise party at the same time as the person who's being surprised. They see you in the parking lot, then they see some familiar cars, and they piece it all together before they get inside. And all that hard work that the party planner put into it is ruined because you couldn't get your act together...or so I've heard.

3.) Plays. Don't you hate those people that get to the theater after the curtain goes up? The usher with the flashlight is distracting. Your view is blocked by the people standing up to let them through to their seat. If they're in your row, they almost always step on your foot or knock over your things. Don't be those people.

4.) When You're Dating This Girl. As more and more people read this blog, they begin to share their own horror dating stories (which I love, so if you have any...send my way!). My cousin told me about a time when he was set up with a girl by a mutual friend of theirs. Some of this may be paraphrased, but here's the gist of the story. They had planned to go out to lunch. That morning, my cousin's errands took him a little longer than he expected, so he texted the girl and asked her if they could move the date from noon to 1 p.m. She texted back "sure". My cousin showed up to her place around 1:07 p.m. She came out of her house with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. After a few minutes of awkward silence following the "nice to meet you"s, my cousin asked her if something was wrong. She asked him, "What did you have to do this morning?" And my cousin said, "I just had a couple of things to do." And she responded, "You know what? I don't feel very comfortable going out now. I thought you had something important to do and that's why you were late." And with that, she turned around and went back into the house, leaving my cousin in the driveway. No word on whether there was a second date.

Two Random Thoughts from this weekend

1.) This is why Crazy Pete is easily one of my most favorite people in this world:

I was out to dinner with a good friend from high school, Erin. We started discussing how much we love oysters. Which led me to talk about my oyster kick with Andrea lately. Which led me to talk about the food and wine festival in Miami coming up in February. Which led Erin to say that she really wants to go. Which led me to talk about Crazy Pete. Which led to this conversation:

Erin: Is he on facebook?
Me: Yeah, but his page is probably set to private. You should just friend request him.
Erin: But, he doesn't know me.
Me: It doesn't matter. I'm like 99.99% positive that he'll accept it.
Erin: Should I say I'm your friend?
Me: You can. But, I still think it doesn't matter.
Erin: Ok.

(38 seconds later...literally)

Erin (Laughing): Oh my God, he just accepted my friend request.

2.) A man walked by us carrying a balloon in the shape of breasts. Both Erin and I thought to ourselves, this probably won't end well. Let this be a lesson to you...here's the result of what happens when you carry a boob balloon through a restaurant with low-hanging ceiling fans.

Conversations with friends

One of the traits that I admire in others is a sense of humor and as a result, my friends are all hilarious. I was also lucky enough to inherit a sense of humor from my parents. I frequently take note of our conversations so that I can remember them later. Here are a few of my favorites (mixed in with some that were not meant to be funny, but surprised us).

1. Ants and Cockroaches

Me: Do you think it's weird that when I kill ants, I always leave one alive so that he can go back and tell the other ants not to come in my apartment?
Friend: You're talking to a guy who once put a cockroach's head on a toothpick to let it be a warning to all of the other cockroaches.

2. Yay for Monday!

Me: I've had a couple of beers tonight, sorry if I'm not making sense.
Friend: Good for you! What's the occasion?
Me: Monday

3. The Truth about Melly

Me: I feel like I always get the last word in my arguments.
Friend: That's because you argue to the point that the other person thinks, "Ok, so it's either let it go or get arrested for second degree murder..."

4. Tomato/To-mah-to

Friend: We're invited to a homecoming party on Sunday
Me: A homecoming party?
Friend: Yep
Me: A HOMECOMING party???
Friend: (a little less sure of himself) Yep.
Me: Are these people in high school?
Friend: (confused) Nope.
Me: Are you sure that it's not a housewarming party.
Friend: ohhhhhhhh....

5. Good Question

Mom: Do you think that cannibals keep kosher? Like, there's probably a difference between eating someone who just had bacon vs. like, an orthodox rabbi, right?

6. What happens when two deaf people talk to each other

Mom: How was your date?
Me: It was good. I like him. I'm not sure about a future though. He has four kids.
Mom: Ew, he has blackheads?
Me: No, FOUR kids...but why would I care if he had black kids?
Mom: I don't know...it's kind of gross, isn't it?
Me: You have black kids.
Mom: I DO????

7. Eating Habits.

Me: I haven't been to the grocery store since March 2009
Friend: What?? How do you get food?
Me: I'm out to eat all the time, I go to my parents' house, things like that.
Friend: Where do you get your chips and snacks and stuff?
Me: Uh, the liquor store?

The Night before Aruba

I've been away in Aruba for the week, and I plan on writing about that tomorrow. But I would like to share the happenings of the night before:

A few weeks ago, when a friend from college whom we affectionately "Crazy Pete" said that he was coming to visit Boston, I was happy that I would get to see him while he was in town, but a bit cautious, knowing that I had to catch an early flight to Aruba the next day for my cousin's wedding. Pete's uttering of the sentence, "I hope you don't miss your flight..." when we were discussing our plans didn't make me feel any more secure. Add to this the fact that this all fell on Friday 13th, as my close friend, Patrick, pointed out, and we reached a trifecta of "uh-oh" news.

The plan was to meet at Sam's at Louis Boston for drinks, and then see where the night would take us. I met Pete around 2:00 p.m., and by the time Andrea and Patrick came along, we were about three cocktails in. We shared an early and delicious dinner.

That night, I had plans to meet a few other friends to go see one of my favorite bands, Dear Leader on a boat cruise through Boston Harbor. Pete, Andrea and Pat went out to yet another dinner, and I left them to meet up with friends, Jeff, Scott, Marianne, Joy and Sean. Now, I've mentioned before that I have a great fear of boats. Luckily, that afternoon, Pete kept refilling my wine glass and the future boat excursion seemed less like an ominous boat ride on Friday the 13th and more like a ride on It's a Small World through rainbows and sunshine. The concert was excellent! While typically, at concerts, I stand at the back of the room, nodding my head in time with the music like a true emo kid all grown up, here I was, jumping up and down at the front, shout-singing along with the band. I'm sure they were cool with it. At one point, the boat was rocking back and forth and we all stumbled around for a minute or so. I found out later that it was because my friend, Marianne, had made her way to the helm and asked the captain if she could drive for a little while. I had always thought that it would be against some law or regulation to allow a booze cruise guest to drive the boat, but apparently, all you have to do is ask.

When we docked in Boston, I met up with Pete again. The original plan for me was to leave after the concert and go home and sleep, then wake up feeling refreshed with bees buzzing and birds singing, and leap to my car with my suitcase, head to the airport, jump on my plane, and jetset to Aruba. But, of course, as I'm sure Pete knew would happen all along, the best-laid plans of revelers and night owls...

Off we went to the North End to eat yet more food. We settled on Bricco and enjoyed a really delicious meal of shrimp scampi, octopus, and pumpkin tortelli. Finally, at 2 am, we headed home. We did hit a hiccup on the drive home, when we hit a sobriety checkpoint. Luckily, I had slowed down on the boat, and gorged myself on heavy Italian food, so I was fine to drive. However, I was thrown a curve ball when the officer asked if I was sober, "for the most part." How are you supposed to answer that question? A yes response implies that I am "for the most part" and a no response would be very very bad. My inherently sarcastic nature wanted to answer, "I'm not sure that you fully understand the purpose of a sobriety checkpoint." But, of course, I kept my mouth shut, smiled my answer at him, and he let us drive on.

As we stumbled into my apartment and the clock struck three, I turned to Pete and said, "I don't think I'll be making my flight." To which he responded, "How many dinners did I have tonight?" And that is the story of why I arrived in Aruba one day late. Stay tuned for Tales from the Trip.

Things that went way over my head when I was a kid

While visiting with my mom last weekend, I was feeling a little bit under the weather. So, just like old times, I lay on the couch and let her bring me stuff. While lounging, I caught an episode of Three's Company. It was the one where Jack tries to get Chrissy and/or Janet in bed, and Mr. Furley makes fun of Jack for being "light on his feet", and then there's this huge misunderstanding. You've seen it. Anyway, about five minutes into it, I exclaimed to my mother, "Wow, when I watched this as a kid, I did not get this at all." So, that led me to think about other things that I encountered as a kid that went completely over my head. Here we go:

1.) Three's Company. I was convinced that Jack was just really really friendly.

2.) Paradise by the Dashboard Light. I was never quite sure why Meatloaf was in his car at a baseball game, but I just sang along and went with it.

3.) The entire movie Grease. You know the part in Grease where Rizzo says that she feels like a defective typewriter because she skipped a period and Marty asks her if she's PG? To the ten-year old me, that meant that Rizzo felt broken like a typewriter that skips periods because she and Kenickie french kissed and only kept it PG.

4.) Racism. We all knew that the "n-word" was bad and something that we should never say. But, after lecturing my friends on how bad of a word it is, I would then go off into the cul de sac with my jump rope singing "Chinese Japanese".

5.) Sesame Street. A square-shaped muppet singing "It's Hip to Be Square." Smokey Robinson singing "u've really got a hold on me" to the letter U. The "Beetles" singing "Letter B". Granted, the Children's Television Workshop meant for these things to go over my head. Kids are just supposed to think the songs are fun. They make the parodies for the parents. However, I think that most kids have figured out Sesame Street's schtick by age 9. Most kids.

6.) White Lines (Don't Do It). This one is embarrassing because it's SOOOO obvious! Sugar! Kane! Rock! White lines...what do white lines do? Blow away.... BLOW! I was probably 12 the first time that I heard this song. I knew what cocaine was. I knew it was called blow. I knew that people snorted it in white lines. Hell, in a way, the song even has "Just Say No" written into its title. Yet, I still had no idea what this song was about. I just thought it was catchy.

7.) Dirty Dancing. My favorite movie ever and I had no clue about the storyline. I would watch it on VHS, press rewind, and watch it again right after. But, really, the only line that I understood was "I carried a watermelon" and only because it involved being awkward and saying the wrong thing around boys, something with which I had a ton of experience. A lot of my confusion had to do with historical context. I grew up in a world where abortion was legal. So, I was completely confused about why Penny would trust a guy with a dirty knife and folding table. Also, every scene with Robby...over my head completely. I thought Johnny was the father of Penny's baby until 1996. And why was Baby so mad about the Fountainhead? Yeah...I didn't get that movie at all. But it had dancing. And Patrick Swayze's butt if you paused the VCR in the right place.

Lists...it's what I do.

In thinking of the type of blog that I want this to be and what kind of entries I would like to post, I came to the conclusion that there is going to be no rhyme or reason related to it. It will be completely random, verbally diarrhetic, filterless nonsense. Much different from other blogs. That thought led me to a second conclusion: I'm sarcastic even when talking to myself. And since I was coming up with more conclusions, I came to a third conclusion: sometimes things work better in list form.

For example, right back there...I could have said, "What I want this blog to be: 1.) random nonsense; 2.) sarcastic; 3.) in list form sometimes." So, here's my first list. It seemed appropriate to tell anyone who's reading a little bit about me. And it go a little something like this:

What's my story?

1. I think I'm a great actress and should absolutely be on a sitcom.

2. I auditioned for RENT, but did not land a part--unlike acting, my singing is not so great.

3. Sometimes I annoy myself with my habits such as having to read my book list in order, and always saying "Don't do that in prison." when I drop soap in the shower.

4. I think that if Sam Adams were still alive today, I may want to boink him. But, I'm not sure if I'm confusing him with the model for the Boston Beer Company's Sam Adams logo?

5. I've met a lot of famous people and have had drunken conversations with at least three. Eventually, I will tell the story of how I met and annoyed Dan Aykroyd. I will then follow up with how 1992 Olympic Figure Skating Silver Medalist Paul Wylie bought me a drink on my 21st birthday and proceeded to get really really mad at me. However, my encounter with Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind will remain in the vault.

6. I love having new clothes to wear, but I abhor shopping.

7. Although the craze is more or less over, I aspire to play Guitar Hero at the expert level.

8. I'm completely addicted to Nancy Drew Computer Games and they are the reason that I know Morse Code.

9. In my retirement, I would like to own a bookstore.

10.  For a split second this year, I contemplated not paying taxes.

11. I think I'm addicted to speed dating.

Anyway, that is me in the proverbial nutshell. I think that I will be able to stay consistent with my mission statement and remain random, sarcastic, and sometimes list-forming. I hope you will stick with me and agree.

Melly J., P.B. (Professional Blogger)

A random stranger came up to me in my office building a few months ago and said, "I really like what you had to say on Tim Thomas's facebook fan page." It was at the beginning of the catholic employer/birth control debate and Tim Thomas had likened the "first they came for..." poem about the Holocaust to his unwillingness to stay silent about the struggles and persecution of the Catholic Church and the gall of the evil Obama adminstration who suggested that non-Catholic employees be allowed to have health care coverage that is unrelated to their Catholic employers' feelings. How dare they??

I debated the issue for a while with some die-hard Tim Thomas fans before realizing that pucks to the head really can cause brain damage. Then, I gave up. I figured the discussion had been lost in the facebook comment cemetary forever and that would be it. Until that random stranger.

I mentioned this encounter to my friend, the Other MJ, who has been listening to my incessant diatribes for years now and who sounds like I made him up, but truly truly exists. Other MJ's response "You should write a blog...seriously." Now, while I'm sure he had purely selfish reasons for offering that resolution (directing my comments away from "IMs to MJ" to a different medium), I immediately thought, "Yes! Brilliant! I have some pretty interesting shit to say that I know people will want to hear".

I began to think about whether I have what it takes to become a professional blogger. And whether that's actually a thing. I'm not sure what the answer is, but I'm gonna find out! Starting now...