Living at home comes with major perks (ie. endless crates of of Kirkland bottled water), but there have been a few moments when I really felt like grabbing the apartment classifieds.
Example:
[At the dinner table]
My mother: Got the mail today. Michelle’s pap test came out normal.
Posted in Family
I’m so happy for my girl, Jordin Sparks. Perhaps I’ll soon get sick of that enormous smile plastered on billboards everywhere, but for now, let me have my moment. American Idol is so wholesome and manufactured — there are no limo-ride sobs, racist tirades or obligatory skinny-dipping footage — and yet I still love it. Jordin, who’s (have you heard??) only 17, is so fresh and moldable that it’s exciting to see where she’ll end up (most predictably, 40 pounds lighter and partying it up with Mary Kate and Ashley in the pages of US Weekly). Tonight, the possibilities are boundless. It’s only with a tinge of shame that I say I believe American Idol brings the world together. At work, each week, we would convene over lunch to discuss Haley’s (aka Celine Dion) 99 cent garment district earrings, Chris’ (aka JT) annoying bounce and Phil Stacey’s (aka Powder) creepy powderness. But it’s more than just water cooler substance. If you wanted to feel like you still had a few leftover brain cells in there, you could hop onto the LA Times or Washington Post websites to find in-depth commentary on the beloved singing competition by some of the best entertainment writers in the business. And, I suppose what’s most meaningful to myself was that it was something I could watch with my folks (which, in this day, qualifies as “family time”) for two or three (OK, more like 1.5 — TiVo) hours a week. All that is now over. At least for the season.
Now what?
I just heard screams coming from downstairls. Sigh. I guess Apolo just won Dancing With The Stars. My life at home runs on a carefully-caculated TiVo schedule. (By the way, did you vote for Jordin? Did you? Did you? Did you?!?!) I look at my parents with their Dream Dinners and TV trays, testing out rash creams and counting down the days until retirement, and I’m startled to see my future. Who would have thought I’d get here so soon?
I am getting old. I try to kid myself by watching Reese Witherspoon movie marathons and painting my toenails hot pink, but the fact of the matter is, THIS IS THE END. I look in the mirror and my eyelids are all droopy. I almost died tonight in Turbo Kickboxing. My cellphone doesn’t even flip.
Last Saturday, a group of us went to eat dinner at Musha. Afterwards, we couldn’t think of anything to do, so we stood in the parking lot talking. My 22-year-old sister who joined us that evening had long left us for a party in Hollywood. We were jealous. I declared to my friends, “We have to stay out until at least 11 tonight!” I looked at my phone, which read 10:24. I shrugged and said, “We have to stay out until at least 10:30!” They chuckled and we all parted ways at 10:28.
Where did my 20s go? I guess I’d have to partly blame the disappearance on employment. But, ya know, I’m not really complaining. This is more like, well, a passionate observation. I like my life. I feel like things are really falling into place. I just wish they wouldn’t bolt down so freakin’ fast.
Posted in Being pretty, Family, Grownup stuff, TV
When my grandmother used to take my sister and I to Chuck E. Cheese, she would sneak a few of those plastic play-area balls into her purse, just so we’d have something to toss around when we got home.
Grandmothers are so cool.
Posted in Family
