May 8, 2013 § 29 Comments
I recently decided to start seeing a psychotherapist. I had some life-stuff to work out, and I knew other people who swore by therapy, so I thought I’d give it a try. After my first session, I texted a friend who had encouraged me to make that appointment:
I ought to have recognized some of the telltale signs of needing this kind of thing long ago. For example, when friends would talk about what they’d do if they won the lottery, they’d say, “Buy a beach house,” or “Pay off all my debt and move to France,” and I’d say, “Hire a shrink and pay them to listen to me talk about my life and my relationships and my kids and my work and my dreams and my failures and my conflicts and my shame and my hope and EVERY SINGLE THING IN THE WORLD.” And then inevitably someone would stare at me like I was weird, and I’d look down and stir my drink with my finger and start whistling.
Anyway, I finally decided that there’s no sense in waiting to win the lottery or to have a big, dramatic reason to get a little help sorting out all the craziness that is adulthood. And so far, so good.
What works for me might not be what works for you, but just in case you’re thinking of giving it a shot, I thought I’d offer up a few tips based on what I’ve experienced thus far. Bear in mind, I’m only just getting started. But here’s what I can tell you:
* * *
1. Take Advantage of the Free Kleenex
See also: Free coffee. I mean, “free” is perhaps not the precise term for things one uses after paying a large sum of money for an hour’s worth of time. But as far as I can tell, there’s no limit on the number of Kleenexes one can take. So if you use enough over time, you probably come out even and maybe even turn a profit.
* * *
2. Give Yourself Extra Time To Think
The time spent in the therapist’s office is one thing. But you can’t fix your life in an hour. So build in plenty of time for sitting in the waiting room, where you can read, look at the Zen waterfall, and just be quiet and mull over questions you’ll be talking about that day. I enjoy this part so much that I’ve been arriving earlier and earlier. Next time, I might just arrive the day before and camp out, maybe bring some food and a mini-grill, make it a tailgate kind of thing.
* * *
3. Embrace Freedom of Speech
I was about four minutes into my first session when I launched into a description of a feeling that really could not be said without profanity. Then I apologized. You know what my therapist said? That my language was nothing compared to the language of some other patients. Traumatized veterans, for example. (Finally: Proof that I do, in fact, curse like a sailor. Like an actual, military sailor with PTSD.)
So now I just let it all fly, no editing. It’s a win-win, because I can express myself efficiently and accurately, and my therapist can pick up some interesting new compound cursewords* to take back to the veterans.
(* Oh! Speaking of which – I have a new one: fucktank. As in, “That situation was a fucktank of complexity.” Or, “I’ve got a fucktank of things to talk about. Should we tackle them alphabetically or just start with the stupidest problems?”)
* * *
4. Keep It In Perspective
I resist the urge to point at other people in the waiting room and say, “I’m not as crazy as that guy, right?” But I comfort myself with the knowledge that there are people way weirder than me going in and out of those doors on a regular basis, and that whatever I have going on, the therapist has definitely seen worse.
Just to make sure everyone keeps it real, I recommend starting each session with a “confession” such as:
- “Yesterday, I killed someone for sport in a jungle island people-hunting game.”
- “This morning, I pretended to give someone a puppy and then took the puppy away and ate it.”
- “I think it’s important to have role models, which is why I pattern my life after Lindsay Lohan.”
Then you can say, “Nah, just kidding. My real problem is ________.” And suddenly it all looks pretty normal and easy to solve. Everything’s relative.
* * *
Disclaimer – No one warned me about this, so let me warn you: Apparently it’s normal to feel like a wrung-out dishrag after each session. Summoning the balls to be totally honest and open for even a single hour of self-examination is exhausting. My therapist says it’s BRAVE to deal with life and people head-on. My friends who’ve done this before me say it’s worth it. So I guess I’ll keep going until I’ve gotten my money’s worth in free Kleenex.
“Brave” by Sara Bareilles:
April 23, 2013 § 22 Comments
Spring magazines are out. You know what that means.
Once again, we don’t even have to read the articles to know what’s hot for this season. All we have to do is pay attention to the advertising, and we’ll learn not just about the world of fashion, but about the world itself. About beauty, happiness, business… about life, my friends. A few lessons for spring:
* * *
To look, feel, and smell like a celebrity, emulate their entire lifestyle.
This perfume bottle has a lovely feminine hourglass shape. So it’s fitting that Jessica Chastain wears it, because she, too, has a gorgeous figure. Do you want to be like Jessica? Then know this: She keeps her curves in perfect proportion by making sure no fast food ever passes her lips. And that’s not all. To make sure no one else falls prey to the evils of the Big Mac or McRib, Jessica personally murdered Grimace, then finger-painted the walls with his blood. May that image never leave your mind, and may you order a salad at lunch.
* * *
The most accurate way to tell time is to hold your watch next to the face of a beautiful woman.
Think about it: Whenever you want to know what time it is, don’t you put your arm up next to your head (if you are a beautiful woman yourself) or someone else’s (if you are ugly or a man)? Of course you do: “Hey, Stacy, what time is it?” “A quarter past my face, bitch.”
* * *
If you wait long enough, everything will get easier.
You mean now I can spray Vaseline on my OWN ass? Wow. The wait IS over! The world is getting more convenient by the minute.
* * *
Always say what you mean.
Quattro TrimStyle by Schick. Because nothing says, “prune your bush,” like actually saying it. (Subtle, Schick. Subtle.)
* * *
Some things are harder than they look.
The jacket-over-briefs look isn’t as easy to pull off as you might think. Sure, it looks simple, but you can’t just throw a bomber over your bosom and go. Trust me on this. You have to get the face right. You don’t want to look too joyful (left), because then it’s like, “What are you so excited about? You can’t even afford a shirt.” Likewise, you don’t want to seem too dour (right), because then people want to slap you and shout, “Hey. Buck up. At least you HAVE a jacket.” Only one person knows how to get this look exactly right…
* * *
Kate Moss can do anything she wants. Ever.
The secret is never to waver in your because-I’m-Kate-Moss-and-I-fucking-say-so expression.
* * *
You are too old to shop at H&M.
Daphne, Joan, Lindsey, and Lin Wen just want to make one thing clear: You’re past your goddamn prime.
* * *
The Great Gatsby look is back, and it’s everywhere.
Which is awesome, because aren’t we all just living the Gatsby story every day? I know I am. Speaking of which, I’ve gotta run in a minute – it’s almost time for me to plow my friend down with my car and then skip town.
* * *
Never sign a cosmetics contract.
The way it works is they give you 50 pages of small print to sign. The first few pages are like, “Emma Stone, you will get bazillions of dollars for letting us put your pretty face on magazine ads.” But on about page 47, there’s a tiny line that reads, “PS: Once you sign this, we can dress you up like a rainbow clown and gel your hair like it’s 1989 and pose you on a surfboard, because WE OWN YOUR ASS NOW.”
* * *
Sometimes a missed opportunity is a blessing in disguise.
Bullfights are SO in. And at first, Sophia, on the far left, was super-pissed because she didn’t get a bolero OR a hat for this shoot, so clearly she’s not invited to Pamplona with the rest of the girls. Well, fuck them. At least she won’t end up gored.
* * *
It doesn’t have to make sense to work.
Dolce & Gabbana. Because Scarlett Johansson makes out with smooth-nippled statues, so buy this makeup.
* * *
Know someone who could use a little instruction on the finer points of looking good and living right? Share these lessons and change a life.
April 4, 2013 § 22 Comments
So here’s some news: Last weekend, while my family and I were out for a walk, an enormous dog attacked us. Actually, you know what? Dog is the wrong word. Let’s say, Giant Toothbeast.
I’m not exaggerating or using “attacked” in a melodramatic way. That is the exact word for what happened. The Giant Toothbeast – who was about the size of me, but, you know, a dog – was probably 20 yards away when he spotted us going down the sidewalk. He was unrestrained. Unattended. And I love dogs, so for a split-second, I was like, “Yay, doggie!” but then no. Not yay doggie. When he saw us, he started galloping. GALLOPING, I tell you — while snarling and making deep, guttural Darth Vader noises with his mouth wide open. Like this: “RAAAWRGHRRGAAAAAHRGIMGONNEATYOUAAWWWRGH”
If this has never happened to you before but you think it might one day, let me prep you for what will go through your mind when the time comes:
That dog wants to say hello!
Holy matchsticks, that dog is running fast.
Is there sound coming from that dog’s EYE SOCKETS?
OH MY SWEET SOUL, THAT DOG IS GOING TO BITE MY BALLS
WAIT A MINUTE, I’M A GIRL, I DON’T HAVE BALLS
MAYBE HE THINKS I DO HAVE BALLS
Does that mean the dog is gay?
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I completely support his freedoms and rights.
Although dogs don’t really get married.
Are dogs even monogamous?
Why am I thinking about this right now?
OH FUCKING HELL, I’M GOING TO GET EATEN BY A DOG.
All of that kind of races through your mind at once.
And at the same time, louder and more persistent, this:
THAT CREATURE IS GOING TO HURT MY CHILD.
Anyway, the Giant Toothbeast surveyed our crowd as he ran and decided to head for my son and me. We had about two seconds to react. So I screamed, “NOOOO,” in a movie-slow-motion way and jumped in front of my son, planting my body directly in the path of the Giant Toothbeast’s maw.*
(* Note: I have never read an article about what you’re supposed to do in a dog attack, so this was probably the wrong thing, but seriously… dog attack. Not a lot of time to Google it.)
The Giant Toothbeast slammed into my leg at full speed with his wide-open jaws, tearing at the fabric of my jeans with his teeth, still aiming for my son behind me. Unfortunately, one scrappy mama doesn’t do much to deter one ferocious Giant Toothbeast, and the animal still got a mouthful of my boy. But apparently offering up my leg as an appetizer reduced the impact of the next bite. Thanks to that and to a very tough pair of kid pants, my little guy was shaken – literally and figuratively – but his skin wasn’t broken. No blood was shed; there are just bruises.
I don’t know what made the Giant Toothbeast decide to run off after that one bite, but he did. Just turned and ran.
This is the part of the story that I keep thinking about now that it’s over: The fact that there was no thought at all in that moment when I saw the dog eye my child. That the first, gut instinct was to step in front of him. No weighing of pros and cons. No hesitating.
And I’m not saying this makes me a great parent – that’s totally not the point here. (I’m a godawful parent at least half the time. I look at my phone too much, and I forget to make dinner until the last minute, and sometimes when a Saturday soccer game is canceled, I don’t do a good job of hiding my delight at getting two hours back in the day.)
I’m just sort of in awe of the instinct that we humans have to protect what’s important. To lunge, in a second, toward what matters most.
So here’s the deep metaphorical concluding line: The people you want in your life are the ones who’d jump in front of you — or the ones you’d jump in front of — when the Giant Toothbeast comes.
[long philosophical gaze]
March 14, 2013 § 57 Comments
It’s no secret: You already know that sometimes I fantasize about living the life I see in the J. Crew catalog.
This week, while browsing for something to wear in this 40-degrees-at-breakfast / 70-at-lunch weather, I got caught up in pondering just what I’d have to do to pull off this lifestyle on a daily basis. There’s a lot to it, but none of it’s all that hard. I think I’ve got the hang of it:
* * *
1. Embrace bedhead. This looks a lot like how my hair just naturally is, but you can also create this look on purpose. What you do is put lots of time and product and effort into styling your hair nice and smooth, and then you sort of take your open palm and noogie-noogie-noogie it all crazy on the crown of your head and then go.
* * *
2. Eschew perfection. Always leave one element of your outfit screwed up or half done. Like tucking the back of your dress into your thong, except preppier.
* * *
3. Cultivate a mysterious expression. There’s lots of room for creativity here. The gist is that you don’t want to stick with the basics: happy, sad, mad, etc. You want to come up with something quirky, an unusual combo of emotions. Like, murderously vapid. Or playfully depressed. Or adorably vegetarian. You get the idea.
* * *
4. Always be touching. Too close for comfort? Nonsense. If you’ve got on a great outfit, let everyone know it by sidling up to the closest other person in a great outfit and touching them, creating an electric charge that radiates for all to see.
* * *
5. Keep ‘em guessing at the office. Can women have it all? Is there such a thing as balance? Is that the glass ceiling or did someone play a prank on us with Saran Wrap? Who knows, but one thing’s for sure: The J. Crew way is to keep things wacky at work.
* * *
6. Jump, and you’ll look better. It’s fine to do just a half-leap, but if you really want to grab the world by the balls, launch into a full ballet jeté in the next crowded place you go, because why not.
And that’s how you do it.
(All pictures are from the J. Crew catalog. Obviously.)
February 4, 2013 § 39 Comments
The Valentine-fuss this time of year can be a bit of a pukestorm. Personally, I find it all a little silly, but maybe that’s because I have kids, so the whole thing just reminds me of torturously supervising the handwriting on Barbie / Batman Valentine cards and finding the dust of shattered candy hearts in the bottoms of bookbags, I don’t know.
That said, even if you’re not into the Valentine thing, your beloved might be, and you may be on the hook for a gift of some sort. STOP. Do not pick up the teddy bear dressed in a Cupid diaper. Do not touch the heart-shaped card. (Barf.) Do not wrap up a gift in a box at all. I say, go old-school. Reach back to the days of the mixtape, and let the music do the work for you. Here are a few ideas to get you started.
The Luckiest – Ben Folds Let’s start out mellow. This is for that person who makes you think, “How did I end up with this good fortune? Are you real? Am I dreaming? And if I am dreaming, can you make doughnuts rain down from the ceiling? Because that’s about the only thing that could make this any better.” Good work, Ben Folds.
Fire and Dynamite – Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors Are you kidding me? Is there a more romantic, more beautifully nerdy, more perfect compliment than, “You are a novel in a sea of magazines”? I mean, wha-? It’s good that this phrase wasn’t around when I was a single woman. It would have gotten me in quite a bit of trouble – because there is no end to the list of depravities I would commit if someone said that to me. And then probably word would get out that all it took was that one phrase, and then dudes would walk up to me in bars all the time and say it, and then I’d just be a big ol’ whore. So thanks, Drew Holcomb and your neighbors, for not writing this song until I was safely off the market.
* * *
Not Just Romance
The Ring – Sarah Harmer This is gratitude love. It could be romantic love, but it could also be for a friend or mentor or something: “And I got up in the ring, because I had you in my corner.” Fun fact – I went to see Sarah Harmer play live PURELY to hear this song. The entire show was nothing but requests. I screamed my little heart out – “the ring! the ring!” – and even got my husband in on the yelling – “THE RING! THE RING!” – but she never played it. Thanks for dashing my hopes, Sarah Harmer. Don’t come crying to me when you have a special humor request and I don’t grant it. What’s that? You want a guitar joke? Oh, I’m not telling those today, but thanks for stopping by.
You’ve Got The Love – Florence and the Machine Here’s a good multi-purpose love song for any playlist. Not too romantic. This could go out to anybody – your Valentine or your friend or, hell, even your parents or God. Oh shit, I said hell and God in the same sentence. Oops, now it’s shit and hell and God. Dammit. [clamping hands over mouth]
* * *
Slightly Off-Center Love Song
I Will Follow You Into The Dark – Cadillac Sky Dark is for sure. This one’s about death. But somehow it’s still really sweet and uplifting. It’s about not being lonely. It’s like that pact they’re always making in the rom-coms – like, if you’re not married by 40, and I’m not married by 40, we’ll marry each other! And then wacky hijinks ensue. Except this one’s more like, “If you’re all alone when you die, and I’m all alone when I die, my soul will follow your soul into the abyss, ‘k?” Everyone knows the Death Cab For Cutie version, but I also really like this one by Cadillac Sky.
* * *
Your Song – Ellie Goulding Oh, COME ON. Don’t roll your eyes. Elton John made this a classic; Ellie Goulding does a nice cover. Bonus: This song gives you a great line to use anytime you forget some key piece of information about your loved one – such as their favorite cupcake flavor, eye color, or name: “You see, I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue… anyway, the thing is, what I really mean – yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Smooth.
When You Say Nothing At All – Alison Krauss Once, in a music class, my professor started crying when this song played. And because I was a supercool 18-year-old, I got all uncomfortable, like, “OMG, a man is crying. This is, like, so weird.” But that’s not the point. The point is: If you really want to mush it up, this is the mushiest thing on wheels. It’s for that person whom you can just look at, and they look back, and you’re like, “I know you know that I know that you know that I know that you know that I know what you’re thinking and you know what I’m thinking, so yeah.”
* * *
Stubborn Love – Lumineers This one gets a spot on the list for this statement: “It’s better to feel pain than nothing at all. The opposite of love is indifference.” Hmm. Very philosophical, Lumineers. I think I agree with you fellows, but I’m not sure. We’ll debate it later.
February Seven – The Avett Brothers I’m not even positive I get what’s happening in this song, but there’s something going on here: “I went on the search for something true. I was almost there when I found you.” PS: Scott Avett, I love you. Call me.
Heart’s Content – Brandi Carlile This wasn’t the first song that grabbed me on the Bear Creek CD, but it’s got a hold of me now. “Here’s to you and me, and in between.”
Hold On To What You Believe – Mumford & Sons OK, those of you old enough to remember the days of actual mixtapes (I mean, obviously *I’m* not old enough to remember something so ancient, but you know… I’ve heard legends), remember how cool it was when someone would throw in a “bootleg” track? It was always some song they got from their friend’s older brother’s college roommate, who recorded it at a concert. Here’s the bootleg for this playlist, one of Mumford & Sons’ many love songs – a complex one – that’s not on either of their CDs.
* * *
Let’s Get It On
Lover Tonight – Will Hoge Will Hoge could growl the list of ingredients on the back of a package of fruit roll-ups, and it would still sound like a love song to me. The VOICE. Man. Oh, true story: The last time I went to hear Will play, it was in a teeny-tiny bar, and when he got to this song everyone went quiet EXCEPT the 7-foot-tall douchebag mofo standing directly in front of me, who turned around and started talking really loudly to his friend for the WHOLE SONG. And that is the story of how I almost killed a man with my bare hands but didn’t.
Dance Me To The End of Love – The Civil Wars This remake – which beats the stew out of the original, incidentally – is for after dinner. Slow dance. Spill a little wine. “Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long.” Dance me, indeed. If you’re still dancing by the time this song ends, you’re doing it wrong.
Wait. What were we talking about? Oh, music. Right. So anyway…
* * *
Shiny, Happy Love
Simple Song – The Shins Can’t beat this image: “My life in an upturned boat / Marooned on a cliff / You brought me a great big flood / And you gave me a lift”
Scissor Runner – Jenny and Johnny Let’s end on a perky note.
* * *
If all those songs made you physically sick, it’s cool. No judgment here. In fact, this one’s just for you. We’ll all raise our glasses and sing it with you, too — here goes:
I Hate Everyone – Get Set Go
January 1, 2013 § 68 Comments
Happy new year!
I don’t know about you, but some years are bigger resolution years for me than others. Last year, I had a bunch. It was a year for lots of change. This year — maybe because I’m all resolutioned-out after 2012 — I could only come up with things like, “Wear striped socks more often.” Which I am doing already:
The fact that I don’t have oodles of resolutions for myself doesn’t mean I haven’t made any resolutions, though. Oh, no. It’s just that I’ve made them for others. Such as:
* * *
Kanye West and Kim Kardashian –
Resolve to name your baby something unique, you two. First off, congrats. Great decision to start a family. I see no way this goes wrong. Second: Look, I know it feels like there’s a lot of family pressure to give the baby a name that starts with K, like Klairol or Kleenwipes. But I urge you to resist. Be original. Give the child a standout name befitting his or her spectacular combination of DNA. Might I suggest:
Oh, I think that last one may be it. Sequin. I like it. Heed my words, Kimye.
* * *
The Ice Cream Man –
Resolve to stay out of my neighborhood. This is not me taking a stand on child obesity and unhealthy eating – although it could be, because seriously, what is even IN those SpongeBob-on-a-stick things? – I just don’t like your skeezy truck. Or your sixth sense for knowing exactly when I’m deep in thought at work and choosing that moment to come wheeling around the corner, playing your weird little chime music.
What is that, anyway? The soundtrack to a Stephen King movie about clowns? Come to think of it, I’ve heard that song before. It sounds a lot like The Entertainer, which is causing me to have flashbacks to that tapdancing class in second grade when all the other girls knew each other and I was new and uncoordinated and my tights were too big and bagging around my knees and I held my little jazzy top-hat in front of my face and cried. You’re giving me fucking PTSD, Ice Cream Man. Find a new neighborhood.
* * *
My Hair –
Resolve to get your shit together, hair. Curly or straight, pick a direction. I’m not wasting this Moroccan Oil on you anymore until you make some choices.
* * *
People With Cameras and Bathrooms –
Resolve to stop taking bathroom mirror selfies and sharing them. I mean, I get that it’s hard. You’re looking awesome, and you want to snap a photo to show the world your awesomeness. I totally know the feeling. One time, I had on my favorite combo of pajama pants and T-shirt (a pair of surgical scrubs pants with my I [heart] BACON shirt), and I had just put my hair up in a bun to wash my face, and I realized that in the flickering over-sink light, I kind of looked like Reese Witherspoon if she were a doctor who was secretly strung out on meth, and I thought, “I bet EVERYONE wants to see what Dr. Reese Witherspoon, MD, would look like on meth!”
But everyone else at my house was asleep, so there was no one around to take a picture. It was a bummer, but you know what I *didn’t* do? I didn’t hold out my phone toward the mirror and snap a photo of myself holding up a phone, thereby also showing everyone the contents of my bathroom counter and my dirty towels. Skip the photo. Or find another backdrop. That’s all I’m saying.
* * *
Coffee Guy At The Farmers’ Market –
Resolve to keep being adorable. And I will keep giving you all my money every Saturday for coffee. That is all.
(* Slightly fictionalized portrait of the coffee guy.)
* * *
And now, an announcement… If you like The Random Penguins, this news is for you. (If you think they’re stupid, look away for a sec and hum an angry little song.) The penguins started at Thanksgiving as a holiday thing — a gift of thanks to Blink readers. They were going to ride off into the snowy sunset on New Year’s Day. But then they made a whole lot of friends in a short time, and I have to admit, even I have become rather attached to them. So what the hell — let’s just keep at it a while longer. The penguins can stay.
Bear with me as I figure out what their schedule will be. Not sure whether they’ll stick with every weekday or maybe just go three days a week. (Perhaps Wednesday/Thursday/Friday… doesn’t “WTF Penguins” have a nice ring to it?)
* * *
And one more thing: Just a little thank-you and Internet high-five to the folks at YeahWrite, a group that highlights blog writing and encourages good blogs to interact with one another. I first stumbled upon it a few months ago. I’ll be the first to admit, I’m not even sure if my column here counts as a “blog” — these are not deeply personal essays I’m writing, nor is this a regular account of what I’m doing every day. Is it a blog? I don’t know. But the gang at YeahWrite call their project, “1 part blogging showcase, 2 parts writing challenge, 3 parts bathtub gin.” I feel at home anywhere that’s 50% gin. Anyway, they just tweeted a little hello and said, hey, why don’t you join us this week? So I did. I love friendly people. Go check check their stuff out.
December 24, 2012 § 7 Comments
Ho Ho Ho… I’m not spending a bunch of time in front of a computer this week. (Because Christmas is family time. And also because I’ve got to cook a disturbingly expensive piece of meat today; and I once learned an important lesson about kitchen multi-tasking when I blew up a chicken because I was so enthralled watching baby goat videos on YouTube that I didn’t hear the oven timer. Cooking + Computer = Disaster)
So anyway, back to the desk next week. Until then, here are a few happy little holiday things:
* * *
I don’t know about you, but I’ve now watched this movie three times since the beginning of December. I plan to watch it at least two more before January.
* * *
I’m hooked on this song right now. I love the tune; I love the lyrics (“Let your heart hold fast / For this soon shall pass”); I even love the video and the little beating heart at the end. This is the perfect song for when you’re tired or frustrated or just indulging in some general malaise, and then you realize you’re kind of wallowing and you need to perk the hell up. Put this on full volume and pull yourself out of it:
* * *
And finally, may the new year bring you something that makes you as happy as bathtime makes this dog:
Have a glass of something bubbly; give someone a present; don’t eat mistletoe. Merry Christmas!
* * *
(PS: Penguins still arriving every weekday, here.)
December 11, 2012 § 41 Comments
Let’s start things off today with a musical number. It’s a duet. You’ll know it when you hear it…
(“Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” originally written by Frank Loesser. I like this version.)
So, the girl in this song has lines like these:“I’ve got to go away.” “Say, what’s in this drink?” “The answer is no.” “No, no, no, sir.”
And the guy has lines like these:“Baby, don’t hold out.”
“Mind if I move in closer?”
“No cabs to be had out there.”
“Look out the window at that storm.”
After he pours her the funny-tasting drink and tells her she’ll never get away in all that snow, he tells her it sure would be a shame if she “caught pneumonia and died” from trying to leave. Ah, romance. Nothing like a classic holiday ditty about holding your date hostage. (Seriously, it sort of sounds like she does mind if you move in closer, dude. And what did you do to all the cab drivers? WHERE ARE THEIR BODIES?)
Anyway, the other day I was tickled to see that my imaginary Twitter friend Alexandra (you may know her from her delightful site, Good Day, Regular People) had the same thought:
Amen, sister. Just once, I want to hear that girl in the song stick up for herself — just knock over all the candles in his basement shrine and run like hell. So I rewrote it. Here you have a NEW version of the whole song, with updated lyrics for the girl’s part (and the guy’s original lyrics, unchanged, in parentheses). This time, she turns the tables:I really can’t stay (Baby, it’s cold outside) I don’t like you that way (But baby, it’s cold outside) This evening must end (Been hoping that you’d drop in…) Look dude, no dice. (I’ll hold your hands, they’re cold as ice) Honestly, I’m starting to worry (Beautiful, what’s your hurry?) I think you’d better open the door (Listen to the fireplace roar) Where’d you hide my keys? I gotta scurry (Beautiful, please don’t hurry) Match.com, this wasn’t what I asked for! (Why don’t you put some music on while I pour?) You know what I think? (Baby, it’s bad out there) You roofied my drink (No cabs to be had out there) But I switched the cups (Your eyes are like starlight) And you can’t tell (I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell) No means no, no, no, sir (Mind if I move in closer?) And I’m all done with being polite (What the point in hurting my pride?) So back the fuck up (Baby, don’t hold out) I’m going to go outside Now watch as I leave (Baby, it’s cold outside) Let go of my sleeve
(Oh darling, it’s cold outside) Are you starting to spin? (I’m lucky that you dropped in) It’s kicking in! (Look out the window at that storm) I knew I should have been suspicious (Man, your lips look delicious) When you double-bolted the door (Waves upon a tropical shore) That’s why I broke one of your dishes (Gosh your lips are delicious) And I’ll cut you if you take one step more (Never such a blizzard before) I’m starting my car (Oh baby, you’ll freeze out there) To drive back to the bar (It’s up to your knees out there) Just first let me tie… (I thrill when you touch my hand) …You to this tree (How can you do this thing to me?) I wonder who will find you tomorrow (Think of my life-long sorrow…) When you’re still drugged out of your mind (…if you caught pneumonia and died) Hope you like snow, asshole (Get over that hold-out) ‘Cause baby, it’s COLD outside.
* * *
PS: Oh! Speaking of dates… If you have been following The Random Penguins, you know about Liam — who’s been feeling vulnerable after a recent breakup. In what has to be the most delightful development of the past week, an outpouring of support has people from all over offering to set Liam up with a new lady. Some have suggested he might ought to give Kay a try, but honestly, she may be too much for him. The best candidate so far is this friendly-looking lass, suggested by a veterinarian in Nebraska. Thanks, Dr. Finch!
November 16, 2012 § 8 Comments
There was a time I used to say that when my kids weren’t toddlers anymore and went off to school every day, I might like to have one more baby… a little one whom I could enjoy in that low-stress way that last children are enjoyed.
I no longer remember why I thought that would be a good idea.
A canine baby is plenty, thankyouverymuch.