The Non Conformist Conformist

Jenny had a tattoo and I thought it was cool,
So I went out and I got one too.
Johnny got a lip ring I thought it looked great,
So I got a lip ring just like my mate.
Stacy went and dyed her hair green.
I dyed my hair purple so now we’re a team.

We all get together and wear black and brood,
And talk about how we’re all misunderstood,
And if you don’t like our music well that’s just tough,
Cause there’s no one quite as bad ass as us.

But I look around to see something quite awful,
That group over there, they have tattoos also!
And pierced lips, looking hip and I fume all the while,
At all of these amateurs trying to cop our style!
I swear to myself, “These punks will learn their lesson!”
And fall into my favorite state, a deep, dark depression.

I come home and my mother is there
She says, “I did something, you’ll never guess what dear!”
I say, “Okay, mom, what did you do?”
She lifts her sleeve to reveal a brand new tattoo.

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image credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Free_3D_Business_Men_Marching_Concept.jpg
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A Sweet 16 Grows In Brooklyn

If you were a teenager living in Brooklyn in the year 1988, you probably heard wild stories of the Sweet 16 party my twin sister and I had that year. Hell, if you were a teenager living in Brooklyn in the year 1988, you probably went to the Sweet 16 party my twin sister and I had that year. It was a party of epic proportions, the stuff of myths and legends, and probably a few teenaged pregnancies.

But there was no My Super Sweet 16 for me; no pop stars and DJs, no prom dresses. Here’s how rocker chicks from Brooklyn get Sweet 16s done.

1.About 2 weeks out, start telling all your friends you’re having a huge party at your house and they can bring anyone they want.

2.Get a refrigerator full of beer.

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3. Add some hot rocker chicks

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Heh, heh! That was actually me and my sister. Don’t look too closely into our dilated pupils.

4. A little of this…

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5. And a whole lotta this…

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6. Some beer money for when the beer runs out…

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…this money actually ended up getting stolen…

7. And, of course, a kitten

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…because it is a great idea to bring a poor defenseless animal to a raucous party. But hey, we were 16 years old and I don’t think animal rights were invented yet.

I actually published these pictures, and many more from this party/era, on my Facebook page not too long ago. The photos came the closest to going viral as anything I have ever put on the internet. They also gave rise to the infamous rumors ‘Zack is Dead’, ‘Who Did Ira Make Out With That Night?’ and ‘Zack Is Alive and Well and Living In Brighton Beach’.

But the best thing about posting these pictures were some of the comments I received:

“That party is one of my first memories, literally. It’s like, my mother singing over the crib, seeing Pete’s Dragon at Radio City, and then this party…”

“All these are great blackmail shots…”

“you can tell we were real young…we’re drinking budwieser”

and, of course…

“Thanks for hanging on to these gems, Marissa!”

Awwwe…memories are awesome!

Exhibit A

I am writing this blog on the tail end of a particularly unpleasant encounter I had with a female acquaintance on Saturday afternoon. When I consider the relationship I have had with this woman, I think frenemies would be too nice of a word to describe it.

Just to preface this a bit, this woman seems to have volatile relationships with everyone, but has always been especially mean to me. Now, I understand that people like this may have deep seated mental problems, which may evoke sympathy from a bigger person than I. However, unless she is locked up in a mental ward, wearing a strait jacket, I see that as no excuse for the way she has treated me. There are psychiatrists for this sort of thing, after all.

Immediately upon returning home on Saturday afternoon, I did what every other person in the world does when they wish to take passive aggressive action in a situation such as this one. I deleted her from my Facebook.

After  waiting a few hours, and not receiving a sorrowful letter from her demanding to know why she had been deleted, and, in fact, not even knowing whether she noticed that her friend counter dropped from 375 to 374, I decided it simply wasn’t enough.

I tried to turn my negative energy in to creative energy by blogging about the incident, but nothing worthwhile was forthcoming. I even had a heart to heart with my mother. But when I woke up on Sunday morning, I was still feeling kind of sore about the whole thing.

That’s when it hit me. There was only one thing left to do.  Oh yes, a Strongly Worded Email was in order! Now, of course, I know all about being the bigger person and turning the other cheek and all that. Yet I thought it might just be therapeutic to get the whole thing out of my system. I mean I didn’t have to send the thing, did I?

But oh readers, thanks to my caustic wit, my deep sense of sarcasm, and my carefully honed writing skills, what ended up on my computer was a masterpiece, so subtly scathing, so subliminally insulting, there was just nothing else for it. I had to hit send.

And then readers, I felt so much better.

UNTIL…

Until I realized that I had just sent a not very pleasant email to a certifiable mad woman who is probably, as we speak, writing nasty letters to my employer, defaming my character all over the internet, and quite possibly putting a hit out on my life.

Readers, if you do not hear from me for a couple of days, please call the proper authorities and present them with this blog post haste. I have already taken the liberty of marking it as Exhibit A for your convenience. In the meantime, if a crazy woman shows up at your door inquiring to my whereabouts, you don’t know me, you’ve never seen me, I have fled the country.

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Happy New Nuttin’! (What New Years Means To Me)

New Years can be a great time of the year. Whether you look back at the year that past with fond recollections, or whether the last year was not all you hoped it would be, there is always the prospect of a fresh start with high hopes for the year to come.

However,  like Pandora’s Box, and other things that carry the prospect of hope, there is also a certain amount of evil abound. For me, that evil can be summed up with three simple words: New Years Eve.

Back when I was young and single, in the days following Christmas, my mind would be largely occupied by a single thought: “What would be THEEE THING to do on New Years Eve?” The answer was always the same, and that would be to find some small intimate party with my closest friends and spend the entire night there. The problem was that, most years, such parties did not exist. The second most reasonable option then, was to go to sleep at 9 o’ clock and pray that I did not wake up until well past noon the next day. However, for a hardcore scenester like myself, this option presented the possibility that I would miss out on something LEGEND (wait for it) ARY.So once again, another option put to the wayside.

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All this added up to me being out on the streets, following leads on parties that I was not quite invited to, or trying to charm my way into overcrowded venues for free, as I set off on a long, and often unsuccessful quest for the ultimate New Years Eve. It also inspired me to write this somewhat dismal account of what New Years means to me.

1. Everyone is entirely too drunk entirely too early
2. All my favorite clubs are charging an exorbitant fee at the door and are overrun by a bridge and tunnel crowd
3. Everyone expects something magical to happen and often it doesn’t
4. The TV selection is obnoxious and everyone at Times Square looks freezing cold and like they have to pee really badly
5. Resolutions are for suckers
6.If you are a parent, you could enjoy an expensive night out with your significant other,(not to mention what you had to pay the babysitter to work on…gasp…New Years Eve!!!) only to wake up at 7 AM with a throbbing head and a toddler who thinks it would be fun to start off the new year by pouncing on your bed.
7. If you are single you are weighing your options on the whole midnight kiss thing…and it does not look promising
8.The news has slowed to a halt and now all journalists remind us that we have spent the year looking at Miley Cyrus, Justin Beiber, and the Kardashians and using acronyms much too often.
9. The prospect of going back to work seems more hideous than ever.
10. 358 days till Christmas

All of this leads me to my current state of contentment which is staying at home with  my husband and two children who are easily pleased by party poppers, funny hats, cookies, and a movie on New Years Day. So I guess I did get that intimate party with my closest friends after all…and I’m gonna stay there…all night.

With sincere hopes that you fare better than I ever have on New Years Eve… May the odds be ever in your favor.

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Dedicated To The Chocolate Cake Served At My Husband’s Holiday Party

Oh, chocolate cake served at my husband’s holiday party
Served 10:30 at night
You’re tall dark gooey layers
They done me wrong they done me right

I sunk my fork into you
Both twice my size and girth, It
kept me up the entirety of the night…
Totally worth it!

I just want to add a personal message to my readers. If you read my last post you know that I thought that might be my last post of 2013. However I just couldn’t resist adding this timely and festive little ditty. You will just have to think of me like Ozzy Osbourne who had his ‘No More Tours’ tour in 1993 and then his Ozzmosis (Retirement sucks) tour in 1995, or Kiss who planned to do their final tour in (can you believe it?) the year 2000.

Have a happy!

Auld Lang Syne

A week or so ago, I wrote a blog complaining about how few people were reading my blog. Since this drop off began around Thanksgiving, I, of course wondered if this was due to the holiday season, but, since people are now so well connected, media-wise, I really wasn’t sure.

Yesterday, I was reading a blog by Rarasaur which confirmed this suspicion. Not only did she comment on how blogging and readership slowed down during the holiday season, but she went on to say that some bloggers do not blog at all, and I am seriously considering following that path because, well, you don’t just get all this for nothing.

Although I started blogging in June, 2013 will mark the end of my first year as a blogger and as I look back on the year, I feel a bit sentimental (cue piano). When I began blogging, I did so because I felt it would be a therapeutic outlet for myself and if I reached out to one or two people, so much the better. What I didn’t expect was to meet a whole community of bloggers that I would begin to feel a part of. These are people who I wake up to every day and their blogs crowd my inbox with little wisdoms that feel like emails from a friend (but not quite because, you know, I’m just not that crazy yet), and they have become supportive and colorful characters that are a part of my virtual life. Their blogs have touched me, made me laugh and cry, they have taught me and inspired me, and more than anything else, they have given me something to do when I’m bored at work.

My original intention was to mention some of the bloggers who I feel deserve honorable mentions because of their blogs and their support, along with adorable personalized messages, but then I began over thinking the politics of who to mention and who would feel left out, so I decided not to go that route. I am hoping that those people know who they are.

There is however, one blogger I would like to mention; one blogger who has always been there for me, alway inspires me, always likes my blogs no matter how stupid they are and, without whom, I probably wouldn’t blog at all. After all, what is a rock n’ roll super mom without a Hvymtldad?

Rock n’ Roll Supermom – out. Have a great holiday season and I’ll see you in 2014!

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say Phuket

Watching the Amazing Race last night, it occurred to me that I really need to grow up.The contestants in this leg were in a capital city in Indonesia called Bandung and I couldn’t stop thinking of it as Bad Dung! I mean, now that I’m a mother and all, it really doesn’t do for me to be giggling every time a word or name sounds remotely inappropriate, does it? I am writing this blog as a fond farewell to all the times I have exhibited this shameful behavior and brought embarrassment to my family and the people I love.

 
Like really!…How about the time when my son had that 1st grade teacher named Ms. Quesada and I just could NOT stop calling her Ms. Quesadilla! I mean, bad enough that I had to expose my son to this kind of nonsense, but things were really awkward when a slip of the tongue caused me to refer to that nice teacher as such when speaking to the school principal (true story, no lie).
 
And if this wasn’t enough to make me see the error of my ways, imagine the plight of poor Ms. Naples who had the misfortune of teaching my son in the 2nd grade. (For those of you who don’t see this one coming, just substitute the ‘a’ sound for an ‘i’).
 
This just progressed when my son switched schools and there was a teacher there named Ms. Doody. (Yes really her name, I mean at that point you just really ought to NOT be teaching kids, am I right?). And the same for you (this going back to my elementary science teacher) Ms. Lipschitz or the shop teacher Harry Kirshner (Kirshner, Kirshner, Harry, Harry!).
 
It even got in the way of my professional relationships. For instance, in my brilliant career in the administrative field, I have come across many domestic and foreign shipping responsibilities (notice how I don’t use the word ‘duties’?). I would often giggle at these poor people’s last names as well. So I want to put in an open apology to all the times I laughed at you Ms. Wiener, and especially you Mr Takashito.
 
Now, I don’t know if I can just change my ways overnight. It’s been a long road and obviously I need to masticate on all of this a little while. I will definitely keep you abreast of the situation. Until then, I bid a fond farewell to laughing at you, Bangkok; and you, Lake Titicaca; as I kiss Uranus goodbye!