Happy Birthday to me!

Thanks to those of you who joined last night's discussion group for your insightful commentary and your willingness to indulge the adolescent girl sides of Drs. Crazy and Medusa. If you had not been there, we very likely would have been prank-calling boys and waiting for one or the other fell asleep so we could put her hand in a cup of water.

To recap:

On fashion
There seems to be a general "no" to neoprene clogs or really clogs of any aggressively ugly design, unless one is heavy with child and walking the streets of Berlin. Until I am in such circumstances, I will continue to insist that neoprene is the pseudo-cloth of Satan and therefore should not cover any part of the body at any time.

I will likely never be in a position to buy the $1790 Mousseline pink blouse by Chanel. Admiring such things, though, and needing a new creative outlet has led me to a birthday resolution (all of which will be posted soon) to buy a sewing machine and learn how to sew. I think I would be good. Dr. Crazy pointed out that it might take years to craft the likes of the Chanel blouse and believes that there is a reason (in the crafting, cut, and fit) for it being $1790. I disagree. It is the name and the design. Anyway, I am looking forward to the new project, especially because I can envision a whole wardrobe in "summer whore" pink.

On pop culture
The neoprene clog, Ashlee Simpson, and Supernanny questions were inspired by the pathetic hour or two that Crazy and I spent lazily flipping through channels, occasionally finding a thing of disgust or interest upon which to ponder, but mostly doing things like playing with the Rubik's cube and falling asleep to Seinfeld. I am not kidding. And, I'll go ahead and admit it to protect my friend, it's me with the Rubik's cube fixation. Anyway, I had not seen the new Simpsonette. The most depressing part of her transformation for me is that she, when asked if she had had a nose job, said, "I am not saying 'yes' and I am not saying 'no'." And she seemed delighted with this answer, which made me imagine the round table of publicists and Joe Simpson coming up with this inane answer and rejoicing. Oh, and for those of you who do not know, this is the Supernanny. I tend to like Nanny 911 better, as those nannies tend blame the parents and not the children, but both are interesting for their crazy anglophilia. Thank you for pointing out that it not so much a regional as a class thing, which come to think of it, one snotty little English child kept pointing out through nasty remarks in one episode. Not that I watch that show. Ever.

On relationships
The Napoleon question was brought on by the latest antics of The Fuckwits, my downstairs neighbors. I had some people over on Saturday night from 9-11 p.m. I know--SHOCKING and INAPPROPRIATE. The Little Fuckwit Husband, who is 3 feet tall and a giant prick, objected in all sorts of obnoxious ways, including confronting my friends and sending an ALL CAP email with exclamation points and things spelled in text-message lingo. This may or may not have inspired some impromptu clog dancing at 3 a.m. So, yes, I would rather live above Napoleon Dynamite than a man who at our first condo meeting asked what I did for a living and when I answered "I am a professor" said, "Oh. We thought you were a stripper." No, I am not lying. And, by the way, while of glorious and compelling beauty, I do not look like a stripper.

Then we have the 35-year-old man with the unironic framed sun-sign poster. Here's my theory. This was the one piece of "art" he ever had framed and this happened when he was 15 years old. Or maybe he found it for a quarter at a yard sale. Whatever. He moved it around because it is his one framed piece of "art." This does not make it okay. It actually makes it worse.

On babies and kittens
Yes. Lovable and edible.

So now it's time to venture out for the actual day of the birthday celebration. There may be lunch and a matinee. There will definitely be a fancy dinner later. So far, the only people who have contacted me (via email and voice mail) to tell me "Happy Birthday" are an old friend I have not heard from in months and months--which is actually good--and, if you can believe it, The Grand He. Strange.

Good and strange. Yep, pretty much sums up my life so far. Off to enjoy my day!