Oy…

So, what a couple of weeks it’s been.  There was:

1.) My Marketplace piece.

2.) My breakdown upon reading all the comments people posted about me feeling entitled and not working hard enough when they only know 350 words of my life story.

3.) My realization that if you want to be a writer, people are always going to have an opinion about whatever you are writing about.

4.) Two phone interviews.

5.) One road trip to Pittsburgh.

6.) One in-person interview.

7.) One trip to Boston.

8.)  One night when I drank approximately eleven margaritas, then bought a stratch ticket and thought I won $60,000 dollars.  I had not.

9.)  My saying goodbye to my part-time job of the past three years.

10.)  A job offer.

11.) My quick acceptance of said job offer.

12.)  One call for an interview that came after I accepted the job.  (When it rains it pours, I suppose).

13.) My strange realization that I will be moving to Pittsburgh, which strangely followed the usual stages of grief: Denial (Pittsburgh?), Anger (Pittsburgh!), Bargaining (Should I really move to Pittsburgh?), Depression (It’s not NYC or San Francisco…), and finally Acceptance.

14.)  Finally, excitement that my new job sounds awesome and the cost of living in Pittsburgh is about a 1/2 of anywhere else I’ve ever lived.

15.) Three freelance projects.

16.)  One house-sitting gig for two psycho dogs, one of which looks like and is almost as big as a polar bear.

17.)  One vegan wedding.

18.) Gaining about five pounds (okay, maybe six…).

So you can see why it’s been a month since I’ve posted anything.  But alas, it is Premiere Week, and The Biggest Loser is starting. So I should probably go so that I can get inspired for my sexy new life in Pittsburgh.

Hear me on APM’s Marketplace Today!

I recently taped a segment for Marketplace on my ghastly (and continuing) journey to try and find a job.  It will be airing today!

Check your local NPR station to find out when it’s airing in your area!

Let this be a lesson…

The folks over at Jezebel caught wind of this cringe-worthy video yesterday.  There are so many things wrong with it, I’m not sure where even to begin. I suppose it’s events like this that make the experts say communication is the most important aspect of a relationship…

Rediscovering My Former Geeky Self

Last week, while packing up all my belongings in defeat of not finding a job and having to move in temporarily reside with my parents, I discovered all the former versions of myself which I wanted so badly to forget that I shoved them into that section of closet no one dares enter.  It’s funny how moving/packing/cleaning reveals these odd, past versions of ourselves.  What follows is a list of random items discovered:

A Spongebob Square Pants Bouncy Ball (which lights up when dropped)

Chinese Healing Balls

One disc of the fifth season of Party of Five (I’ve never actually watched that show–so no idea where that came from)

A note my best friend wrote to me during driving school, circa 1997–of course written in purple pen…

A wallet-sized portrait of a high school friend wearing her cross country uniform

An angel halo from a recent Halloween costume

Letter my friend wrote to me while I was at Music Camp (during my Broadway phase)–cringe…

A denim headband that looked sort of like these (Was I thinking it’d come back into style? I hope not.)

I know you are probably asking–how could you part with such cherished items?  Quite easily actually (okay, I keep the driving school note).    What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever found while cleaning out your closet?

Condom Shopping for Dummies

This past weekend I attended my friend’s wedding shower.  For the purposes of this story, I will call her the Vegan Princess Bride (because she is a vegan–having a vegan wedding in fact–and unusually obsessed with Disney Princesses).  The theme of Vegan Princess Bride’s wedding shower was “All the Times of Our Lives.”  The invitation stated that our duties as guests were to fill the newlyweds’ home with presents that represented every hour of the day.  Hence, every guest was assigned a time of day (e.g. 7 A.M., midnight) and your gift was supposed to correspond with the time assigned (e.g. breakfast ware, lingerie, etc.).

My assigned hour?  3 P.M.  What the hell can you buy a person that represents 3 P.M.?  An after-school special?

Yes! You can buy them an after-school special!  Well, sort of…

I decided to theme Vegan Princess Bride’s present after all those wonderful lessons I learned so diligently after school.  So here is a summary of Vegan Princess Bride’s gift:

1.) A subscription to Netflix so the happy couple could catch up on all the afterschool specials they might need for themselves (or future kids, wink, wink)

2.) A plethora of magazines which included a Northern Virginia guide to high schools, Natural Cat (a special edition of Cat Fancy), and a DIY magazine.

3.) Chocolate for lesson #1: Girlfriend, You are beautiful! To represent all those lack of self-confidence/eating disorder movies.

4.) Alcohol for lesson #2: You can’t drink away your problems! For this, I included by nips of tequila, rum, vodka, and whiskey.

5.) Of course, no afterschool special gift would be complete without the enormously important lesson #3: Use protection!, which of course condoms must represent.

I was in a rush to buy condoms while at Safeway.  Not So Sexy Boyfriend had already gone through the line and was waiting impatiently in the humidity while the  candy aisle distracted me.  So I headed for the cashier straight ahead of me without looking to see whom the cashier was.  But it shouldn’t matter right?  I shouldn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.    I’m 25—in fact, many people would say I was a responsible 25 year-old (even though others might call me something else…).

But alas, who was there to wait on me?  A 14 year-old boy.  And he was indeed the youngest 14 year-old boy I’d ever seen.  (Some of you are probably saying, why would a 14 year-old boy be working? I do believe in Virginia, with a permit, 14 year-olds can indeed work certain jobs—including as cashiers at Safeway).

Despite my red face, I bought my Thintensity condoms, doing my best all the while to not make eye contact with the young man I was exposing to the world’s evils.  As I was swiping my card, he asked me my last name, which in my haze of embarrassment, I thought was for checkout purposes.  However, after I exited the store, I realized it was not needed for anything, and that this kid was probably going to start stalking me on Facebook.

Eventually my face cooled, and this past Sunday afternoon after consuming numerous vegan cucumber sandwiches, my after school-themed gift heralded a few laughs.

So all this taught me an important after school special lesson of my own—Remember kids, when buying those condoms, always check out your checkout person.

Sexy Shout Out!

I just wanted to thank DCBlogs for the shout out today.  I’m glad so many others can commiserate with my oh so many reasons to hate myself.

25 Reasons to Hate Yourself When You’re 25

1.) Haircuts that look good on Jennifer Hudson but make you look like Rod Stewart.

2.) The mirror in front of the treadmill at the gym.

3.) Eating the entire Chipotle burrito when you swore you would only eat half.

4.) All the pages of Vogue Magazine

5.) Working seventy hours a week without overtime and realizing Miley Cyrus made $18 million last year.

6.) Not thinking of the clever thing to say until after he walks away.

7.) The nagging feeling that says you still need your parents’ approval.

8.) Falling hard for him only to learn Disney gave you an unrealistic notion of what love would be like.

9.) Knowing as much as you hate your body, this is likely the best it will ever be.

10.) Alcohol

11.) Karaoke

12.) Karaoke + Alcohol

13.) Leaving awkwardly worded messages on his voicemail, Facebook wall, or Twitter feed.

14.) Walking into the glass wall of the Apple Store.

15.) Not getting the punch line to the cute guy’s joke until after he’s walked away.

16.) Credit Cards Limits

17.) Thinking your boyfriend’s friends are cuter than he is.

18.) Match.com

19.) Waiting for the guy from Match.com to wink back at you.

20.) Your favorite pair of shoes that are deforming your feet, but you refuse to give up wearing.

21.) Beyoncé

22.) When finally he calls you back and you can’t get the right words out.

23.) Watching an entire season of Sex and the City after a bad date.

24.) Bad dates.

25.) Worse sex.

Fanny Pack-tastic

In an email from MissSoozieQ to notsosexy:

Hi Friend,

So. To pick up your spirits–I thought I’d share my latest dating disaster (Match.com of course).  Quite possibly the worst date I’ve been on–hopefully this will make you smile. 

Aggressive Full-Bodied Red (AFBR) accompanied me to the Coffee Shop in Union Square–the plan is that she’ll go to Forever 21 and then come to my rescue if I need it (I didn’t have a good feeling since he’d said “Okie Dokie” on my voicemail).

I saw him on the corner and I knew immediately that he wasn’t for me.  So I did the adult thing and crouched behind a van.  While I looked at him, I called AFBR to see if it was okay if I just walked away.  She didn’t answer and the nice side of me told me I couldn’t leave the poor guy standing on the sidewalk.

We met, exchanged an awkward hug and I asked where we’re headed.  He suggested the Heartland Brewery-things looked up.  Then he tells me he chose it because he does not drink anything but cider.  Cider.  A grown man.  It gets worse.

We get inside and he can’t figure out what table to go to- so I commanded him to a side table.  Then, (I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to), he put a fanny pack on the table!  A FANNY PACK.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.  I was a 26 year-old woman in New York City on a date with a fanny pack.  Then, to top it all off, he attempted to convince me that it looks much better when he’s riding his bike. 

I downed my beer, but not before he told that he only goes by Dan when followed by “the man.”

Then I escaped!

Our Moms Call Us Crying

By Angie Mazakis

My mom called earlier today. She usually only calls between 11 pm and 1 am. I get worried when she calls during the day. Like something horrible must have happened. What everyone else thinks when their parents call at 2 AM is what I think when she calls at noon. Last time she called at 9 am I knew it was serious. It was. My dad was in the hospital. A call at noon–potential significance. So I call her back. And she’s crying.

“What’s wrong, mom?”

“I’m just…it’s so sad…I’m watching Michael Jackson’s memorial service.”

Oh geez…I ‘m at work. I can’t really comfort you about Michael Jackson’s death right now, Mom. Plus, you don’t even have one album of his.

“His brothers are all wearing one white glove. Like he did.”

 That’s touching. The “symbolism.”

“When Brooke Shields read from The Little Prince your dad started crying a little too.”

REALLY? Dad? The dad from Beirut?

“Oh really?” I finally say something. I look around my office, thinking of who is the biggest gambler in my proximity. I want to make a bet with someone right now–anyone–that neither of my parents can name one Michael Jackson song. (Later, I test my dad–who didn’t cry for Michael, but “because Brooke Shields’s words were so powerful. And she’s gorgeous! She stayed beautiful!” Yep, not one song.)

“I guess Michael Jackson and Brooke Shields dated.”

Uh, no shit.

“I should really go, Mom.”

I feel bad for going even though she’s ephemerally sad about Michael Jackson. And I feel bad for even thinking the word “shit” in a theoretical response to her. And I feel bad for being on the phone when I should be working, even though I thought this was serious and now she’s keeping me on the phone with details of the memorial which I’ve listened to for too long because I feel bad saying I have to go. And I feel bad that I don’t feel worse about any or all of the things I feel bad about.

“He died so young,” she says, crying a little harder.

 

Later, my friend Kristin IM’ed me, “Guess who just called me crying?”

“Your mom? About Michael Jackson?”

That’s something I would have responded a month from now as a joke.

“Yup.”

***
Angie Mazakis is an MFA candidate in Poetry at George Mason University.  Most recently, she was chosen by Mark Strand for the anthology, Best New Poets 2008.

Summer Bookshelf

A couple of years ago, I heard author Nick Reding read from his an unedited manuscript on the meth epidemic in the U.S.  The reading was so good, I’ve been keeping my eye out for the book’s release ever since.  (At the time, Reding had written a draft–but after a then recent revelation, he decided to rewrite the book completely and wasn’t sure when it would be published).  Well, this Sunday the Times ran an excerpt of Methland: The Death and Life of a Small Town, in which Reding takes us through the everyday life of the meth-infested town of Oelwein, Iowa.  He’s got a true journalist’s eye–and despite the fact I’ve only thus heard the first draft of one chapter two years ago, I could tell even then that this is a story worth reading and am recommending it highly.