Again. Here’s some minutiae about me.

Another day, Another meme.

Four Jobs I’ve Had
Nannie, museum guide, dunkin'donut hostess, archives cataloguer.

Four movies I can watch over and over
Better Off Dead, Alice, Manhattan, Howard's End.

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch
How stuff is made, South Park, Musicographies, Pimp my Ride.

Four Places I’ve Been on Vacation
The woods, the tropical island, the country side, the other side of the globe.

Four Favorite Dishes
Spaghetti, my lasagna, Manue's pizzas, expensive sushi.

Four Websites I Visit Daily
Stuff on my cat, Go Fug Yourself, Weebl and Bob, Google.

Four Places I’d Rather Be
Right here in late-summer cycling around;
In my TV room watching the Olympics;
At a blues festival, sitting on a folding chair, wearing a silly straw hat and enjoying Willie Nelson's performance;
Lying on a new-england beach in late afternoon, wrapped in a blanket with my beloved, in late-september.

Four Books I Recommend
Freakonomics, Breakfast for Champions, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, The Art of Travel

Four Bloggers I’m Tagging
You, you, you and you over there.

Valentine's Day Lexicon fun

amoraphobia
n. an irrational fear of Valentine’s Day.

blue bawls
n. an emotional, romantic version of flirting that leaves you feeling sad and crying.

bud light
n. the blatantly cheap flower selection from a guy who needs to be dumped ASAP. (How was your V-Day? Bud light.)

carniwhore
n. a girl who puts out for carnations.

do-or-diamond
adj. as in, if I don’t see a ring today, he’s dead to me.

long-stem posers
n. people who send themselves flowers from a “secret admirer.”

lote
v. to walk the thin line between love and hate.

ménage à flaws
n. when you crash your friend’s Valentine’s Day date only to talk about all your relationships gone wrong.

PDR
n. public display of rejection: when your valentine takes you somewhere lovely only to break your heart in front of strangers.

Valentiny Tim
n. a man whose masculinity is put in question by his overenthusiasm for V-Day.

bandwagoner
n. A once-single woman who traditionally swears off the holiday but is now happily coupled off and suddenly all about hearts, roses, and luuuv …

candy-boxer
n. A cop-out gifter. (“Good old George. He’s a total candy-boxer, but I still love him.”)

cryday the 13th
n. The day before Valentine’s Day if you don’t have a boy/girlfriend.

(more at Daily Candy)

diary of a hectic weekend

What didn't I do this weekend?

a) Pass two tests for a job.
b) Ate Swedish meatballs
c) Wore a diamond ring, a tiara, a gold bracelet and a red and gold sari for a "modeling" gig.
d) Stayed in a guest house, in a room lit with a giant egg-shaped lamp.
e) Relaxed at home with a good book.
f) Ate cheesy poofs at a party in Montreal, having a jolly time.

The answer is "e".

If you are curious about c) Wore a diamond ring, a tiara, a gold bracelet and a red and gold sari for a modeling gig, that was for the museum actually. I was asked to participate in an art project for the museum's 150th anniversary. The project involves photographing a bunch of people and making a giant mosaic with the photographs.

Modeling seemed like it would be hell-on-earth but it turned out okay. Being part of a crew of photographers, hair stylists, makeup artists and a professional designer, you have to know your place. I told myself incessantly: stand in that corner, wait for your turn, turn your head, don't loose that diamond ring, don't touch your tiara, keep your hands off your face, don't chew your nails, don't eat, don't drink or you'll ruin your makeup, take you clothes off behind that curtain, get over there now, stop slouching. I still wanted to be there and crack jokes with the other models, but everyone was so busy being busy, and I was exhausted because it was Friday night and all I wanted was to sit and have a drink at the Rainbow Room and listen to the Coggs. (our Friday night ritual). I managed to go through all the stages before sitting down and sip water through a straw. And that was just a rehearsal.

Three Advils later, I set out, navigating on a bus in full glam-makeup, looking rather silly with purple glitter on my lips, black eye shadow and trucker winter boots. I felt like an over the top exotic dancer on her way to Canadian Mardi Gras. I was glad to go home, even though my beloved did not miss a chance to poke fun at the mess my face had become after the hour-long commute in winter humidity. Can you blame the guy?

I hardly ever wear makeup, it feels odd and clownish and I think my face looks decent anyway without it. I'm not especially shy about parading for people in a sari, but watching my reflection in the mirror, clad in heavy jewelry and makeup, is too much to bear. Maybe I need to challenge myself to accept physical change. Or something.

A new week has started, and I need to work and be very quiet and healthy for a day. And tonight, I need to watch some Olympic action on my futon in my PJs. It will be a very boring week, and that's alright.