Fifty Shades Of Grey....

Should be renamed Fifty Shades of CRAP.

I will admit, I was curious after hearing about the rave reviews regarding Fifty Shades of Grey. I bought the book only knowing that the story revolved around a romance between two complicated characters. Complicated?? NOT SO MUCH.

Anastasia- I am sorry, but I simply don't buy into the naivety that she constantly emanates. The girl is 21 years old and has absolutely NO sexual experiences whatsoever?? Okay, maybe this is possible. BUT, she is totally willing to enter into this disturbing sexual relationship with this man?? Ridiculous!!

Speaking of ridiculous, the repetitive over-the-top descriptions of this man made me giggle at the absurdity! I believe at some point he was compared to "dark chocolate covered caramel"! HAHA! Perhaps I'm off on this particular quote, but I'm not willing to go back through the book to find out. I laughed out loud at these comical, unbelievable descriptions.

If for no other reason, I HAD to put the book down due to the absolutely DULL thought processes of this girl. If I had to read "Oh my" or "Holy crap" or "Holy ****" one more time, I might throw my kindle. Honestly, the writing was consistantly redundant, right up until the last "hitched breath". Oh, and clearly we all clamber into and out of everything (i.e. hellicopters, cars, the bed, etc).
TERRIBLE writing. How anyone can read this story and call it "quality" is beyond me.

Another absurd characteristic of Anastasia - why the subconconsious AND the inner goddess stream of thought??? Is Ana really schizophrenic? It seems there are at least three main characters wrapped up in one!

I despised Christian. His constant need to control her both in and outside of the room of pain was PAINFUL to read. And she complied simply because she supposedly loves him? Even though he isn't remotely interested in a relationship, but would rather OWN her?! Preposterous!

Thank goodness Amazon allows a kindle return policy, because I definitely wanted my money back 30% in to this garbage. NOT WORTH THE MONEY OR THE TIME. Unless you want your IQ lowered by the end of this book.

one day, there will be no denying.

and there we sat in endless thought, letting the silence devour our words and finding within silence itself, the only word we never could say. (or perhaps i refused to say admit).

You've traced it a thousand times with lips penetrating my own, finding their home among the tears I refuse to let go. You know I'm always turning away. It's a stubborn attempt of pretending the silence screaming the only word i most desired to leave my lips simply could not exist. (ohh but it can, you say). I've been told this a thousand times and yet I may never believe. (not yet, anyway).

I closed my hands in clenched fists, hoping relief would be found in my own willpower.
But you see, there is none when there is longer any denying what I see in your eyes. even when i refuse to look.

I've never said your name out loud, but i've traced it a thousand times with calloused fingertips to skin, finding within your eyes, a sincere whisper of your truth. It's sealed between a jawline and collarbone, a kiss of hope.

in June jersey went to the zoo.

and oh, I continuously (and enthusiastically) sang the Peter Paul and Mary song "we're goin' to the zoo zoo zoo, how about you, you, you?" all the way from Florida Ave to the DC zoo.

Not that the mimosa disguised in my coffee cup had ANYTHING to do with it.

Well, it was  my bestie's 31st birthday, so clearly it had to be celebrated in style.

And so we were sure to see the lions and tigers and bears... but not before seeing signs like.. this.

And then there were elephants..

but the tiger is MY favorite..

listen to that crazy roar!

and of course, the lion..

it was a good birthday, i think :)

I absolutely cannot believe my 28th is fast approaching. *&$%#

2 years to 30 and I better make it fabulous.

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Apparently, everyone in the blogging world has decided to write exclusively on the subject of Valentines – personal, joking, romantic, cynical, or otherwise. 

Me? I celebrated early by booking a trip to a resort in the middleofnowhere, West Virginia.  While driving through the winding hills, inevitably created to make sensitive girls like me carsick, I couldn’t help but involuntarily replay the song “Take Me Home, Country Roads” over and over in my head.  100 miles deep into the wilderness, I finally arrived at an unfamiliar resort complete with pub, restaurants, spas, and miscellaneous (mostly sporty, so I wouldn’t participate) activities. 

What should I do with my weekend?  Spend most of it reading, Jacuzzi-ing, drinking, and spa-ing, of course.  What else does a Jersey girl do in the wilderness? 

It was absolutely refreshing and invigorating…. For the first 24 hours.  I rapidly became obsessed with the absolute need to locate a CVS, a Trader Joes, or a bar other than the one named “Hillbilly Heaven”, anything indicating civilization and sanity. Alas, 24 hours to go and I was already losing my mind!  No problem- I simply jumped in the car and drove around the ENTIRE vicinity (i.e. 50 mile radius) of the resort.  Small towns are few and far between, but I did find this little hiking path.

 No sign of city life, of course, but I did manage to locate George and Martha Washington’s original spa in Berkeley Springs. 

How odd.. and random.

Lesson learned- I probably won’t be returning to West Virginia anytime soon, but it was a nice break from reality.

Imagine my relief in returning to Alexandria with 70 degree weather on Valentines Day!  I immediately proceeded to read on my 17^th floor rooftop with a glass of wine, enjoying city life sunshine. 

And oh yes, I was perfectly content to order takeout on Valentines Day. 

Cheers!

planning for disaster.

I know what you’re wondering.  Where has Jersey BEEN all my life???!

Besides stressing out over graduate classes, teaching, and writing and grading papers, I recently discovered an incredibly important lesson regarding the logistics of Winter Concert disaster PLANNING. Emphasis on the planning for disaster part.  

I received approximately 147 permission slips from my lovely elementary children wishing to participate in the Winter Concert this year.  Horray! I thought to myself  I can actually handle this.

These were all numbers and projections in my head, apparently.  I assumed most children would bring only 1 parent, and perhaps 75% of these children would actually show for the concert in time.  This equals out to about 220 people sitting in the cafeteria in which the concert would take place. 

Fabulous!  I have enough chairs and plenty of space for the instrumentalists to do their thing.  (keep in mind, I’m the general elementary music teacher, there is a separate instrumental teacher). 

I arranged with maintenance for chair set up and sectioned-off areas for performers.  I collaborated with the instrument teacher to produce concert programs and work out logistics with risers, stands, etc.

About… 45824095862 aspects of the program went horrifically wrong.  Do not fret, I will not list all details since they stress me out just thinking about it.

Wrong, wrong wrong.

1. Remember that nice round expected number of 220 folks?  I ended up with nearly 500.

5-0-0.      not only was there standing room only, people were filtered out to the lobby and hallway straining to hear their children perform.  DISASTER.

2. Trusting the instrumental teacher was a mistake. 
1. There were 500 people there.  He printed 150 programs.  Why in the hell he thought 150 would be enough for 220 people, I don’t know.
2. He refused to clear the music stands and chairs from the stage between sets.  Good lord. 
3. 500 people in a tiny crowded cafeteria gets pretty effing HOT. My lovely black pencil skirt and blouse were melted, along with makeup and hair.  Sweaty doesn’t even begin to cover it.  I was running a marathon!
4. We all have technical difficulties.  In this case, the speaker system simply could not be hooked up to my laptop.  Instead, I rigged a microphone to sit next to the laptop speakers. Ghettorific, but I suppose it mostly worked, despite me running back and forth to turn on/off the music.

I’d love to go on and on about this concert, but the absolutely ludicrous part is this:

I actually pulled it off.

How? I don’t know.  The children sang and played beautifully, the parents loved it despite the crowd (understatement), and the principal was astonished and impressed by the turn out.

Quite frankly, I’m astonished.

And in the end, it worked out. But not without me running around like a chicken with her head cut off, sweaty and wilted, cursing inherently at the ruined logistics.

And on the most positive note, the guy I’ve been seeing showed up unexpectedly.

In a suit.

With flowers.

And thought I was beautiful in all my sweaty glamour.

Go figure.

Jersey's 2010

2010 was certainly a busy, chaotic, rocky, and amazingly triumphant year.  I must say, however, I began 2010 celebrating in the heart of Edinburgh, which as my bestie describes it: "makes Times Square look like a barndance".  And it's true!  30,000 completely blasted Scottish people, Ceilidh dancing, fireworks set off every hour from the Castle.  It's indescribable.

Remember that time it snowed an insane amount in February? Yeah, that was a nightmare, and precisely one week before I moved from ghetto Maryland to Alexandria, Virginia.

In the last year I've completely seven graduate school classes while teaching full time.  Seven.  And many times, I wrote papers while drinking wine with my bestie.  How does anyone live without their own personal cheerleader? 

I cut my hair off, and grew it out again. I changed my hair color about seven times.  Yes, I am that indecisive.

I made new friends, acquaintances, and started dating (again). I looked back to move forward. 

I tried Moonshine for the first time.

Drink:

Recover:

I went to the opera

and enjoyed countless dirty martinis

I travelled to New Orleans and celebrated a friend's 30th birthday for a week,

held her hand while getting a first tattoo (and celebrated with a watermelon mojito),

 ate delicious but unhealthy food,

and drank more than my liver will ever forgive.

I travelled to Michigan and discovered the meaning of endless cornfields (big shocker for this Jersey girl!)

and even saw Carole King and James Taylor in concert.

I've got to say, 2010 was pretty fantastic, and it will be hard to beat in 2011. 

But for now, I am hopeful. 

Breaking with tradition, Christmas tree style.

…And in celebration of letting go of the past, enjoying the present, and hoping for the future, there were numerous Bailey’s Irish Coffees. And SMORES. And Bestie Time. 

I’ve been contemplating the usual Christmas traditions, specifically in my own home growing up in New Jersey.

Most of the time my scatterbrained, idealistic, overbearing (however endearing) mother would wait until the very last minute (Ahem: Christmas Eve, 12AM) before forcing me to face my severe trepidation at climbing tiny ladders into the wee bitty attics for a scavenger hunt.  The objective: To unearth the multiple limbs of our 20 year old Christmas tree, complete with eight giant boxes of Christmas décor. 

And we would spend the entire evening attempting to beat the clock to Christmas morning.  Of course, in the midst of childhood, I happened to be accustomed to sleeping at night.  As a result I was truly exhausted by morning and completely unable to actually enjoy the fruits of my labor.  Oh well.  Sleep is overrated, no?

Of course, in order to make up for the lost time during the Decembers that lacked our Christmas tree, the living room had the honor of accommodating our décor through the end of January. 

This was the common Christmas for me, growing up.

I have now resolved to discontinue the tradition and decorated my tiny studio apartment with a six foot Christmas tree complete with twinkle lights and sparkly ornaments at the very beginning of December.

I suppose there are some traditions that really shouldn’t exist. 

However, I do believe Bestie Day + Smores + Bailey's Irish Coffee = December 8, from now on.