Thursday, January 28, 2016

The Weather Outside is Weather

"Goooood morning sweeeeetie!  What's shaking?  How are you this moooorning?"  The flamboyant Asian man squealed at me like a piglet on Lithium as I approached the checkout counter in Starbucks gripping my chocolate milk and chocolate croissant bruised banana like a soldier headed into battle, ready to face my day.

"Hiiii!  I'm good!  Happy it's Friday.  YAY!  It's so crowded in here today...wonder why?"
I responded curiously with a slight head tilt and brow furrow.

"Oh...I know!! I think there's like some convention on Market street or somethiiing!"

We stood and ruminated for another 47 seconds, pondering the meaning behind why, just WHY it was so much more crowded than usual.  For the last year or so this adorable little human and I have exchanged pleasantries.  Seeing him each morning marks the beginning of a subsequent 9 hours of some variation of torturous small talk.  

Fucking small talk.

As adults we spend a bulk of our lives making it.  We make it with our coworkers, our gynecologist (about a month ago I asked my gyno if he had any pets and if he had any fun plans for New Years - and that was just during my breast exam), our hairdresser, the cashier at the grocery store, Uber drivers or that guy on the elevator with the twitch from the 7th floor.  It's pretty necessary to master the art of small talk in one way or another in order to comfortably navigate through everyday adult life.  I get that.  

I get it, but that doesn't mean I don't loathe it sometimes.

Lately I've been growing sick of forced, strained conversations.  I envy kids because they're transparent; they can say how they're feeling, cry if they need to and generally be little dicks honest about everything. Small talk acts as a thick veil we use to mask authenticity.  It's a shield - one that can certainly be difficult to put up if you're not in the mood for it.  Oftentimes it's as tedious and frustrating as trying to pop a whitehead on your eyebrow.

The other day I reconnected with a recruiter I worked with a few years back.  

"How are you?" she asked me.

"I'm good!  Things are good!  Work is good.  I can't believe it's not butter been raining so much here!  Finally. We needed the rain.  Have you seen Making a Murderer?"

Like I give a fuck about the weather... I never wanted to be a meteorologist, and quite frankly I care more about why Starbucks was crowded that morning than I do about commiserating with a Random over something as anticlimactic and natural as precipitation.  Maybe if it starts raining cash, Ryan Goslings and Haribo gummi bears, I'll take an interest discussing the rain.
it looks like rain! thrilling.

But the thing is, like I said - sometimes we all have to talk about the weather.  

We all have to say to our coworker "Can you believe it's almost February!?" and gasp in disbelief as if we just found out Bruce Jenner has been punking us this whole time.  We do this in spite of what's going on in our personal lives. Yep, we are adults, and when someone asks us how we are we say we are "doing well."

But what if one day we aren't doing well?  Life isn't always daisies, dildos and Chips Ahoy chewy chocolate chip cookies.  Putting on a facade and feigning interest in something as mundane as the weather so as to avoid being vulnerable is what we've learned to do.  Plastering a smile on our faces even though we're feeling down is what's appropriate; it's what's accepted..it's what we are supposed to do...it's what we've been trained to do.

Such is life.

A few years ago I made a Small Talk Manual for you to use in the event that you are faced with a situation where you have to spout out insignificant drivel in order to remain a functioning, participating inhabitant of Adultville.  My initial intent was to expand on my small talk list but as I read it I realized more and more how much more fulfilling it is to have real conversations as opposed to contrived ones.  So I decided to make that the focal point of this post.  

The other night I couldn't sleep.  My mind was racing.  I had that once spectacular, now terrible Adele song playing continually in the background of my head, intermittently stifling my pulsing, cyclical, unsettling thoughts.  

Will I be able to make commission this month?
What if I can't?
How will I pay rent?
(HELLO.)
Is my mom mad at me?
Will I ever have kids?  Am I getting too old?
(IT'S ME)
I don't need to meet someone, but I'm supposed to, right?  Because everyone else has.
(HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIIIIDE)
I'm sick of laundry.
My tooth hurts.
Do I have a cavity?
(I MUST HAVE CALLED A THOUSAND TIIIIMES)
Should I move back east?
Do I party too much?
I need to settle down.
(HELLO FROM THE OUTSIIIIDE)
Stop thinking.  It's 3:02am.  
Go to sleep.
(AT LEAST I CAN SAY THAT I'VE TRIIIIED)
You'll be so tired tomorrow, and act weird. 
You can't be weird, you have to be normal.
FUCK.

I dozed off for a couple of hours and woke up disheveled as I sprung from my bed.  I had 20 minutes to get ready for work.  I felt uneasy. I equated each toxic thought I had the night before to a shot of bourbon and I had had 20 of them.  My head hurt.  I slathered on some lip glass, pulled my hair back and looked at myself in the mirror.  "Pull it together, you've gotta be 'on,'" I thought. "Just because you had a bad night doesn't mean the world stops spinning."

I rushed from my house to my bus stop and climbed onto the bus.  I began to survey my surroundings.  I looked at the old Asian man sitting at the front.  I noticed a blonde, manicured girl toting a Tory Burch bag, and a dad holding his fidgety child tightly on his lap.  I thought about what their lives were like, what they were thinking about, what they were going through.  I thought about whether or not they were happy.  Or sad.  I thought about how each of them had thoughts, and their thoughts probably didn't center around the weather.

When I got off the bus and approached the Starbucks I decided to conduct a mini social experiment.  I wasn't going to smile or pretend to be having a good morning.  I was going to be real, I was going to be me. And I am someone who sometimes gets sad.

I made my way to the counter.

"Mooooorning, sweeetie!  What's happening!??!  How are you?" my little friend greeted me.

"Hi, I'm not having a good morning.  I am tired.  It's going to be a long day, I think," I responded as I looked down, deadpanned.

My little friend's toothy smile turned into a concerned frown.

"Here, you need this," he said as he fetched me a pink cake-pop.  He smiled at me - it was a real genuine smile, not a fake one.  I knew I'd remember that morning for a long time, whereas the other mornings laced with small talk with my little friend will simply fade into the abyss.  That moment helped me realize that for the most part, humans are receptive and open to vulnerability.

We are complex.
We are compassionate.
We are good.

We are so much more than...

the weather.










Thursday, January 21, 2016

The Worst Day of My Life

Everything happens for a reason.  I used to cringe whenever anyone said this.  I used to think shit just happened and that was it.  However, as I near menopause I get older I realize that the GodFather of cliches is actually accurate to quite accurate.  The ridiculous things that have happened to me all happened so I would have writing material; so that maybe one day I could write a book, or a screenplay or a simple, mortifying silly toe pick post.  At least, that's what I'm choosing to believe.  



So when I found out a guy I was in love with I'd had a 5 month-long strictly texting (100% non-exclusive on his end) relationship and subsequent weekend fling with last year is dating Jewel, I knew God was handing me writing material on a humbling silver platter.  I was upset, even though I had no reason to be - other than the fact that a guy I was into wasn't necessarily as into me, and seeing photos of him with a famous, beautiful yoddler on the internet made that fact abundantly clear.   

It didn't help that my insensitive friends were pelting me with text messages reminding me of the fact that He was meant for her... and I was meant for.. a random guy on tinder (see what I did there? the Jewel song?).



Sigh.
...

Receiving the aforementioned text messages (and then some) combined with the fact that I'm choosing to abstain from reading TMZ and people.com when that's all I do all day has been making me tense.  Then, I decided that I should become a nun this is all funny - like most things in life... and all of the sudden old memories came rushing back.  

I reminisced about my trip to Nashville to see Jewel's (not then) boyfriend and some Ole Miss friends last year, and thought about how my plane ride back to San Francisco was scarier than a rabid Sarah Palin endorsing Donald Trump.  I thought about how the turbulence got so bad I ended up cowering in the back of the plane, fearfully nuzzling my head betwixt the breasts of a nurturing flight attendant named Sharon.  In that moment I vowed never to get on a plane without ingesting Xanax first.  

So the first thing I did when I touched down at SFO was call my Doctor and get a prescription.  I knew I'd be flying home for Thanksgiving in 10 days so wanted to be prepared.  My doctor obliged, and  I skipped into work the next day - feeling jovial.  In the midst of my excitement, the woman whose kids I'd occasionally babysat for texted me to check in and make sure I was available to watch her little devils angels that night.  She'd texted me at about the same time I was texting with my roommate.  Between facebooking, instagramming, g-chatting and texting talking with clients, sending important e-mails and closing huge deals I must have gotten her confused with my roommate, because well, have a look: 
                               


That night marked my last night of babysitting for this family, as you might imagine. 

The point of my post?  Shit happens.  But it happens for a reason... so you can look back and realize how ridiculously random and funny life is.  Even unrequited love, petrifying plane rides, and jobs ending can be funny!  I'm really happy to have realized this.

Happy Thursday, my friends.

xo,
Nige









Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Dear Caroline


Dear Caroline,


You're smart.  You're confident.  You're kind.  I have no doubt you'll flourish in life.  I'm writing this for you just in case you find yourself ever needing a little life guidance from your delinquent Auntie Owl. You're 11 right now, so I'll start from there.

Middle school might be hard.  Kids between the ages of 10 and 15 generally lack filters, inner monologues and tact.  This combined with a multitude of budding, overactive hormones can make things... (for lack of a better word) interesting.  You're fierce and you've got that face and those eyes; boys will start to realize they like you.  But they'll have a funny way of showing it.  They'll tease you, and mock the very things that make you beautiful. Be flattered and don't worry, they'll grow out of this in about 20 years.

Girls in middle school can be exciting but they can also be ruthless and nasty.  You'll have a group of close girlfriends who you sit with at lunch every day.  You guys will have sleepovers, talk about how weird tampons are and hang out in the corner at dances in the gym giggling about boys together.

Some of your pals might be mean to other kids, especially the ones who are different from them. Do not, by any means participate in this behavior, if you do - it'll haunt you later in life and you'll regret it, I promise you will.  Try and stick up for those "different" kids, for they are the very people who will end up leaving a mark on the world.  Always remember: belittling and berating people for who they are is never a good look, in middle school and in life. 

Don't get the clear braces, go vintage and stick with the metal ones.  The clear ones are like chameleons and will change color based on what you drink and OH MY GOD JUST TRUST YOUR AUNTIE OWL ON THIS ONE FOR CHRISSAKE.

The transition from middle school to high school is a big one, but you'll be ready for it.  You're a leader, I can tell.  Most kids in high school tend to be less cutthroat than the kids in middle school, because by then they'll have developed some semblance of a conscience and human decency. 

You'll forge a couple of important, memorable relationships with some outstanding teachers who "get it".  (And no, I'm not talking about a "Mary Kay Letourneau-esque" relationship, geez.) Some won't get it and you'll wonder why they ever chose teaching for a profession when becoming a heartless prison warden should have been their obvious choice. 

You'll discover tweezers one day and maybe get a little pluck-happy.  That's okay - you're learning. Eye brows are a big deal. Remember; it's better to look like Brooke Shields than Eminem's ex-wife who always looks surprised on account of her turbo-tweezed, amply-arched, barely-there-brows.

College will be a time of experimentation.  Experiment wisely, and FYI - you're a member of the Bunting family and I can tell you right now marijuana doesn't mix well with your brain chemistry.  Some people can tolerate it, but I swear to you it'll make you lose your shit.  Don't smoke weed under any circumstances. 

You'll fall in love, maybe in high school...maybe in college. You'll feel like you're riding on a unicorn through a field of ambrosia the entire time.  Just remember, you're young and the relationship likely won't last.  And, most things that end do end badly, otherwise they wouldn't end.

You will be heartbroken a time or two, and it will be the hardest, most devastating feeling you ever thought you could possibly feel.  It's okay, my sweet Caroline, you'll be okay.  Cry as loud and as hard as you can for as long as you want.  Each day you wake up it will hurt a little less, until one day you'll wake up and realize you can laugh again.  You'll be more thankful for that day than anything you've ever been thankful for. 

Do not devote any of your time to thinking about anyone who does not realize your worth as a human being.  In fact, fuck those people.  (Figuratively, not literally.)  Always remember who you are, and as Eleanor Roosevelt said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Please, for the love of Christ, don't over post inspirational quotes on Instagram, lest you want to lose followers on the daily.

Don't try too hard to be accepted by others; you could end up blending in and blending in is a travesty.  

Looks sure as hell aren't everything so try not to become too consumed by them.  The most beautiful person in the room could also have the meanest spirit, the blackest soul.  The coolest, nicest person could look like a possum.  Looks fade, personality withstands time. 

People are people; whether it's a big time movie star or the guy who cleans the bathroom at a gas station off of highway 95, we are all human beings.  Treat everyone as such. 

A sense of humor is a handy tool to have, especially when things get rough. Belly laughing your way through pain is an exquisitely fucked up, beautiful meeting of emotions.  

You can learn all you need to know about someone by observing how they interact with the waiter, elderly people, animals and most importantly, you.

Always be in contact with your grandparents.  They're extraordinary people and they love you and will buy you cool shit that your parents won't.

Your relationship with your little sister will be the most important relationship you have.  You'll look to her for advice and comfort in your darkest hours.  You'll laugh with her, steal clothes from her and make bad decisions with her.


Discover what you love and put everything you have into it.  If you don't, one day years from now you'll look back and wish you had.  

The sooner you realize that nothing is personal, the sooner you will stop reacting as if it is.

Lastly, my sweet Caroline - I want to tell you this:

When you feel sad, 
when you feel scared, 
when you feel lost...
always remember you have me, 
you have your parents, 
you have your uncles,
you have Big Si and Di Di.  

But most importantly, 
you have yourself.

And always remember...
you are enough. 



Monday, January 11, 2016

A Letter to My Soulmate

I'll see you on a Tuesday morning. We'll meet at some nondescript place like in line at the Bank of America on Powell street on a hazy, grey, why-did-I-even-bother-to-blow-dry-my-hair San Francisco day. I'll be there fetching a temporary debit card on account of having lost my permanent one over the weekend because that's what I do; I lose things.  The woman in front of us will be sporting multicolored dreadlocks and singing a Janis Joplin song.  She'll start twirling and everyone in line will remain deadpanned, except for you and me.   Our eyes will meet. We'll smile knowingly at each other and I'll sigh and look down as if to say "only in San Francisco".

You'll ask for my number in a cheesy way and I'll find it endearing because sometimes, at the right time and with the right person, cheesiness is okay.  You'll wait the obligatory 2 days and call me and I'll pace back and forth in my hallway as we talk, fidgeting with my hair and saying "like" every third word.  We'll set up a date for that Friday and I'll jovially skip to work for the rest of the week.  


We'll go to Benihana and sit at a table with a couple and their 2 kids who look like Beavis and Butthead. The chef will try and flip a mushroom in your mouth but you'll decline, because like me, you only enjoy the recreational kind of mushrooms. The chef will teasingly ask you if you had a bad high school experience as he flips the mushroom in Beavis's mouth instead.  We will laugh so hard you'll almost choke on your fried rice which will make us laugh even harder.  Then we'll stop laughing and I'll catch your eye for 10 seconds longer than normal and you'll find it endearing because at the right time and with the right person, not being normal is okay.  In that moment I'll want nothing more than for time to stand still.  


We'll see each other again and again and one day you'll ask me why I'm orange and I'll make a mental note to discontinue my biweekly sessions with Staci-with-an-i at Brown Sugar Spray Tanning salon.  On Sunday afternoons we'll walk to the Walgreens on Polk street
 and I'll buy Haribo gummi bears.  You'll buy the worms. We will both advocate for our respective haribo preferences at the checkout counter as though we are opposing candidates at a presidential debate.  I will eventually win said debate and you will be converted.

We will go to the SPCA on a sunny Saturday morning and adopt a pit-bull who was rescued from a box on the side of the street in the Mission. She will be our third Musketeer and we'll take her with us everywhere we go, including on our Sunday Walgreens jaunts.  When she gets bigger and ignorant people get scared of her we will laugh incredulously because to us she is the sweetest most gentle creature on earth and sometimes people are just dicks.

You'll hold my head and tell me it will be okay when I feel anxious or sad or when I complain about my job.  We will watch Louis CK, Mitch Hedberg or Chris Rock which will remind us that everything in life is funny and who the fuck cares if Rhonda in HR yelled at me for forgetting to turn in my I-9 form.

You'll make me feel like being different is cool because you'll be different too and we'll be different together which will make life infinitely more interesting... and different.  All of you will love all of me and OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST QUOTED THE JOHN LEGEND SONG.

I'll take you home to Virginia and you'll meet my mom and dad.  I'll beam with pride because my parents are so cool, so smart, so funny, so goddamn important to me and I've waited so long to introduce them to someone like you. You'll watch Eagles games with my dad and I'll warn you about the Peruvian sauce called Aji that my mom puts on everything she cooks.  I'll tell you it's hotter than Channing Tatum and you'll tell me to consider not making dad jokes anymore.  My mom will make us dinner and I'll watch your face turn red as you taste the Aji marinated chicken she made.  In that moment I'll realize I want you to know my parents for the rest of their lives and that will be a really cool feeling.


di and si
I'll also introduce you to all of our animals including our pony called Peanut but before I do I'll tell you to bring her a carrot, because she's only nice to people when they have carrots.  You'll meet our dogs, Coco and Flossie and I'll tell you about Blanch, PoPeep, Buddy, Daisy, Tory, Jack, Jill, and Sophie who we've lost over time but who are responsible for my best and brightest childhood memories.

I'll realize my heart will never be broken again and that will be an enormous relief because being heartbroken is so sad, so hard, so time consuming.  I'll realize that all those ridiculous times I longed for it to work with people who were not "it" was all just a part of my story - this complicated, messy, beautiful, tricked out story called life. I'll think of the times I've gotten hurt and I'll realize it all happened for a reason: so that I'll know how good it feels when I'm with you; someone who always makes me laugh -- someone who never makes me cry. I'll think of that celibate dude I dated back in '09 who insisted on dry humping me once a week, even when I was wearing new chafe-inducing jeans.  You'll be the person who makes me realize I never want to be dry-humped again.  

One day, years from now, you'll read this and I will turn as red as you did when you first tasted my mom's cooking but it will be okay, because again - sometimes, at the right time and with the right person, cheesiness is okay.  

Until then though, I'll be here...  



...dreaming of Tuesday mornings. 

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

You Can Call me Al, But I'd Prefer it if you Didn't

Getting back to reality after the holidays is harder than Kanye West looking at a picture of Kanye West, amiright?  As I sat in my cube, bombarded by engagement/baby announcements (apparently every girl I am friends with on facebook ovulates at the same time) I realized that I have little to nothing exciting happening in my life right now.  Ergo, I don't have anything to write about.  So, I decided to answer Vogue's questionnaire, if for no other reason than to be able to say I accomplished something other than playing a game of MASH on the back of a post-it today.   

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
I'm not actually sure but I think so.  My parents had a dog named Alex and we had similar profiles (literally and figuratively: turned up noses//needy).  I think this gave them the inspiration to call me Alexandra.  Also, Alexandra is the female counterpart to Alexander (the Great) so there's that... 

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Two days ago while watching a Sarah McGlachlan ASPCA commercial.  I did not find comfort in the arms of an angel. 

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes.  I'm not boastful about a lot of things but I think I have cool penmanship. 

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE LUNCH?
Dim sum at Yank Sing in downtown San Francisco.  The idea of being bombarded by trays of various dumplings, rice and eggrolls whilst downing Sapporo Light is like my wet dream. 

I treated myself to dim sum on my birthday because YOLO.

5. INSTAGRAM OR TWITTER?
Instagram (feel free to follow Toe Pick and liberally distribute likes --> @toepicksf) The word tweet reminds me too much of twat.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yes, except for when I'm hungry or over analytical about a guy.  Which is like 65% of the time. Pretty painful.

7. DO YOU BAKE?
Does microwaving Ramen count?

8. DO YOU LIKE FLYING?
It is my number 1 fear by far.  I wish I could personally apologize to all my fellow in-air passengers who've heard me say the Our Father during the slightest bit of turbulence, the flight attendants who've had to caress my hair as I fearfully nuzzle my head betwixt their breasts (awkward but true), the reassuring pilots and the TSA people who I've rounded second base with (I always look so tweaked out and scared that they take it upon themselves to pat me down AF).  For everything.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Does a cat have an ass?  No.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE CEREAL?
Fruity pebbles.  I love how the pebbles turn the milk into a creamy rainbow.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Never.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU’RE OPINIONATED?
Yes.  When it comes to things I care about.  I get pretty heated when people refer to their mom as "mom" as opposed to "my mom" when telling stories.  (ie: "Mom made the best roasted chicken last night!  Then this morning, Dad took us out on the boat.")  Unless you are my sibling PLEASE for the love of God, stop! 

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE ICE CREAM?
Coffee ice cream. Which is ironic because my nervous system can't tolerate coffee whatsoever.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Their eyes.  You can tell if a person is kind or not by his or her eyes.  

15. RED OR PINK?
Red wine.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVOURITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
My inability to fully realize my potential as a writer, friend, daughter, sister and overall human being.  Also, my toes look like legit fingers.



17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
I miss all my shoes and earrings I've drunkenly lost over the last 15 years or so - I am seriously like Hansel and Gretal but instead of breadcrumbs I've left a trail of accessories at bars and late-nights up and down the east coast, southeast and northern California.  

18. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ BECAUSE EVERYONE WAS READING IT?
50 Shades of Grey part 2.  Sad to say.

19. WHAT FILM MADE YOU CRY THE MOST?
Terms of Endearment.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
A blue lollipop at Bank of America.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
My coworker trying to schmooze with a potential client.  He's asking him about his holiday vacation and feigning interest so hard I'm afraid he might pop a blood vessel.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE?
Black!

23. FAVOURITE SMELL?
I love the smell of a new england winter and brand new tennis balls.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My mom.  She asked me if I'd read the paper lately and then quizzed me on what's going on in Syria.  It was a very brief conversation.

25. MOUNTAIN HIDEAWAY OR BEACH HOUSE?
Mountain hideaway.  My dream is to live in a tree house deep in the woods.

26. FAVOURITE SPORT TO WATCH?
hmmm… badminton

27. HAIR COLOUR?
It's very dark brown but I highlight it.

28. EYE COLOUR?
Hazel.

29. PUPPIES OR KITTENS?
Puppies.  Kittens are super cute but then they turn into cats.  Don't get me wrong, I love all animals, but I am forever mystified by a cat.  Very strange creatures. 

30. FAVOURITE FOOD?
You already asked me that I think.  Idiot.  

31. SCARY FILM OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Scary.

32. LAST FILM YOU WATCHED?
Sisters with Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.  Terrible movie.

33. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
"Why I'm not Married Yet"

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Neither.  I prefer dry humps.

36. FAVOURITE DESSERT?
Coffee ice cream.

37. FAVOURITE ROOM IN YOUR HOUSE?
My shower.  Our water pressure isn't fucking around.

38. HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ON FACEBOOK?
Today?  Around 4 hours.  In life? Around ten years.  

39. WHAT IS YOUR PLACE TO VISIT?
Uruguay 

40. WHAT WAS THE LAST COUNTRY YOU VISITED?
Australia 

42. FAVOURITE SOUND?
Rain.

43. ROLLING STONES OR THE BEATLES?
Stones.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Australia

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I’m really good at blowing huge bubbles, speaking gibberish and fake-listening to people, which gets me into trouble when someone asks me a question.  

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
uh-huh..uh-uh..I'm sorry, what?  

47. WHERE ARE YOU LIVING NOW?
San Francisc-OH!

48. FAVOURITE HITCHCOCK MOVIE?
Psycho.

49. WHAT BOOK HAVE YOU READ AGAIN AND AGAIN?
Are you there, God?  It's me, Margaret.

50. FAVOURITE TV SERIES THAT’S ON NOW.
The Affair.

51. DARK CHOCOLATE OR MILK CHOCOLATE?
Milk.

52. WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE DRINK?
Real buttery chardonnay.

53. WHO IS YOUR GIRL CRUSH?
Michelle Pfeiffer.

54. WHAT WAS THE FIRST FILM YOU SAW AT THE CINEMA?
Uhm, I think it was Face Off?  Or Demolition Man.

55. HEELS OR FLATS?
Heels.

56. FAVOURITE BED TIME STORY?
Good Night Moon.

57. BATH OR SHOWER?
A bathwer; I like taking a bath and a shower at the same time.

58. WHAT'S THE HARDEST THING ABOUT BEING A MUM?
Not being one.

59. FAVOURITE BAND?
Guns 'N Roses.

60. FAVOURITE SOLO ARTIST?
Van Morrison

61. TO BE OR NOT TO BE?
To not be...an asshole or Michael Vick

62. WHAT WOULD BE THE TITLE OF YOUR AUTOBIOGRAPHY?
It's All Okay.  Or, Bend Over And I'll Show You.

63. BEST GIFT YOU’VE EVER RECEIVED?
A Rolex I tried to pawn when I fell short on rent once from my dad 

64. BEST GIFT YOU’VE EVER GIVEN?
I gave my friend the rolls royce of dildos as a secret santa present once

65. FAVOURITE FRUIT?
Kiwis!

66. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST PET?
A hamster named Sid Vicious and a Jack Russell named Daisy.  RIP, baby girl.


67. FAVOURITE BOARD GAME?
Hungry Hippo.

68. HOW DO YOU HAVE YOUR COFFEE?
I hate coffee (see #13) but I wish I didn't because drinking it seems like the cool thing to do.  I get envious of people who say shit like "Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee!"

69. BEST INVENTION?
A blow-dryer.

70. DIAMONDS OR PEARLS?
Diamonds.

71. BLOW DRY OR AIR DRY?
Blow dry.

72. CHEAP OR EXPENSIVE SHAMPOO?
A mix of both.

73. HOW DIFFICULT WAS IT TO ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS?
Pretty easy.

And, that's it.  Hopefully something eventful will happen soon so I'll have something to write about other than my favorite cereal.

Happy dry  hump day!

xo, 
nige