Wednesday, October 28, 2009


Not much to say about this one other than 1.) I'm not a cat lady, I swear, but this is truly amazing 2.) She actually seemed to like it, posing for my roommate, giving us all her good angles and 3.) There is nothing better than cats in disguise. My boyfriend had already searched online for a ninja cat costumes but came up short. As luck would have it, though, while shopping for a gold pen for my Joan Holloway outfit at Target I stumbled upon three marvelous options for $5 - rooster, jester and pharaoh. I chose this one because of the golden cobra (duh) and because it's light-weight; therefore, suitable for her tiny head. Can't you just see her floating down the Nile, male cats fanning her fur and hand feeding her Whisker Lickins? If you can't, you have no imagination. By the way, these photos are a bit blurred because they were taken on my Blackberry. Still, I think they capture the essence of Cleocatra...

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The Reason for Sports

Call me naive, but I've never been able to wrap my head around sports mania. I mean what is it that attracts so many people to their TV screens, radios and sports arenas to watch men and women battle it out to prove their athletic superiority? Why do we care about these people? Why are blogs, television shows and newspaper articles dedicated to picking them apart? How do such strong emotions as love, hate, fear, anxiety, passion and zealousness find their way into something so relatively unimportant? Is baseball going to score a cure for cancer? Will football tackle the health care debate? Will basketball make a slam dunk in the fight against crime?

Bad puns aside, it all just seems like one big distraction from real life and from what really counts. Do we put our hopes and dreams into these super athletes so our dashed hopes and missed dreams don't seem as bad? If they can make gobs of money, score pretty ladies all over the globe and spend their days doing what they love, then it's not so bad that we're in debt to our ears, divorced (or considering it daily) and stuck in a dead end job.

Well, at least this is what I've felt for years. But something has changed recently as I watch my intelligent, go-getter, environment loving, money hungry boyfriend cherish every minute of his Sunday football/World Series extravaganza. When I met him I had no idea he was a sports fan. He just didn't fit the bill. Yes he was a living, breathing male - that should have been a tip off. But his cynicism, know-how, worldliness and "total lack of athletic ability" (his words, not mine) made me assume he thought sports were a joke, just as I did (a blackhearted, know-it-all cynic myself.) But, alas, I was wrong. The Red Socks, the Patriots, the Giants - they're all his friends. He's sad when they're sad and happy when they're happy.

Even if he's an anomaly, then what are the other reasons people watch sports and cheer on their teams? Here's a list of some food-for-thought theories I've come up with observing my boyfriend and other sports fans in their natural habitat:

  1. It's a reason to eat really yummy snacks that you normally don't let yourself have. Greasy, cheesy, salty, fatty things that make life worth living.
  2. It's a good way to put off important work - like paying the bills or writing that school essay.
  3. It's a reason to drink copious amounts of beer and liquor. How can you justify screaming at the television screen if you're not hammered?
  4. It's a reason to not "talk" about things - i.e. your partner knows not to bring up "the relationship" or the need for more cat litter when the game's on. (At least not until commercial.)
  5. It provides a sense of purpose. If you didn't watch the game, then it's your fault if they lose. You're their good luck charm! You just know it!
  6. It keeps life from feeling too serious. So you just found out your Aunt Diane has kidney failure and the stock market is plummeting... so what? You can think about them when the game's over.
  7. It makes you feel a part of something. This is your team, your fellow fans, your sport.
  8. It simulates war. Men love war. They're creating new wars all the time. And what is sports other than watered-down war games? The ball for the grenade. The interception for the coup. The touchdown for the bombing. The Super Bowl for the victory.
  9. It helps you blow off steam. You don't need to yell at your business partner, wife or kids when you can yell at the referee and the other team's dumbass coach.
  10. It give you something to talk about with your friends, family and coworkers. Conversation hit a speed bump? Can't think of what to say? Have nothing in common? Don't know how to bond with your son? Go to sports immediately. Ahhh, that's better. Now you're the best of chums.
  11. It's okay to act like an idiot. Ever fancied painting your face, pounding your bare chest and screaming profanities at the top of your lungs in a large crowd? Sports let's you do that and still hold your head high. In fact, it's downright honorable.

Monday, October 19, 2009

When 'Comfortable' Is No Longer Comforting

My brain has turned into soggy gray matter. I can feel is swishing back and forth against my skull as I twist and turn in Sculpt Class. If I even take our front steps too quickly, there it goes like an orange thrown against a trampoline. Why the sudden blobification of my most vital organ?... Comfort. I have grown far too comfortable with my life. The other day my boyfriend actually called me a "waiter," as in someone who waits, not a food service employee.

It's as if I'm waiting for something to happen to me, twiddling my thumbs, hoping for the best. I wake up. Go to the gym. Do some work. Eat a salad. Do some more work. Kiss my boyfriend when he gets home and then turn on the television and relax with Diet Ginger Hansen's and think "I deserve this for all my hard work." It's not a bad life by any stretch of the imagination, but the next morning I wake up thinking, what the hell did I actually accomplish yesterday besides firming by backside and making some money? Really, what? Well, the waiting ends today. This comfort is no longer comforting.

Every week I vow to do one activity that is out of my comfort zone. I'm not going to advance as a screenwriter, make friends in this new town of mine or really experience southern living until I take that mushy ball in my cranium and make it strong again. Take chances. Have adventures. Fail miserably and succeed beautifully.

First up, finally taking a banjo lesson. Playing an instrument scares me to death because 1.) I'm not musically inclined and 2.) I fear my teacher laughing at me or telling antidotes to his other students about that 'brain dead wannabe banjo player from LA' he teaches every Monday. Wonderfully uncomfortable, indeed, so this will be a great start. My brand new, practically unused banjo (if you count my pathetic attempt at learning from a dvd) is sitting collecting dust in the corner as it gently weeps. No more weeping; it's time to kick comfort to the curb and embrace uncertainty.