Living with Cliff Huxtable

WE GOT A PUPPY!!!

The good news is that he's amazingly well-behaved and predictably adorable. The bad news is that Mark and I can't stop speaking like high-pitched freaks. We keep using that weird dog voice ("Oh, you want some WAH-ter, DON'T you? Yes you DO!") that used to be a constant source of overheard enjoyment for us. HA! Listen to THOSE people- don't they know they're speaking to a dog?! It shouldn't last long though; we're still in the first week. Give me a couple more days and then smack me.

Anyway, his name is Cliff Huxtable (Hux, for short) and as most others are, he's obsessed with Mark and Colleen. He watches Mark like a hawk, standing at attention every time he attempts to leave the room. There's a lot of wrestling, soccer and running and I'm pretty sure Hux'll be invited to Mark's bachelor party. As for Colleen, they tend to bond in a different way...laying on CoHo's queen size bed, with the air conditioner blasting and Gilmore Girls on a constant loop. Wait, sorry. Sometimes it's The Secret Life of an American Teenager. If I walk into the room, they coolly acknowledge my presence, but neither makes much of an attempt to socialize. It's cool...I had a feeling CoHo was going to be the cool aunt. Can't wait 'til my kids like her better too!

As for temperament, this dog is straight up Bekka Bryan. He enjoys short, sporadic bursts of energy and then crashes, staring at you like you're a freak for still being on your feet after five minutes of movement. When he senses that a meal is about to be served, he races to his bowl, literally inhaling his food before we've even put the bag away. He hates the heat and drags ass, glaring at us every step of the way and laying down in defeat when he thinks we've pushed him too far (which means that we've walked a foot). He's also pooped in Mark's bedroom twice. Just kidding, Bek! That one's all Hux! But yeah, they are two fabulous peas in an iPod (I don't know what that means-- I just wanted to substitute iPod for pod!) and I'm pretty sure they're going to be best buds. IF Bekka can handle lying around watching Gilmore Girls.

He's a great, great dog. And I can finally rest assured that if I'm ever trapped in an elevator with a pregnant woman about to give birth, everything will be okay. Cliff Huxtable will know what to do.

In other news, I'm going to go ahead and give Jersey Boys two enormous thumbs up! What a phenomenal play--- great acting, an intriguing story and exceptional music. Highly recommended. And in what I can only imagine was a celebration of the largely male cast (or the fact that the ladies room overflowed), Deanna and I were also allowed to use the men's room at intermission. Weirdly excited at the prospect of a shorter line and a new adventure, I awkwardly announced, "Oooh, yes! I have my camera- I am TOTALLY taking a picture!" As older people politely ignored my lack of bathroom etiquette, one guy quietly goes, "I get what you meant. You want a picture in front of the door, under the MEN sign." And he took our picture. Some people just get me, you know?

This was also after, in response to an elderly woman bossily directing us to the quite obvious bathroom line, D loudly retorted, "OH, Ya THINK?!" This prompted a steady stream of stifled twitters from all the ladies in line, and an accelerated pep in my step as I attempted to distance myself from the one person at the play who was going to take on an ancient female usher.

In short, I'm fairly certain we were a hit at intermission. And the play was excellent!

Other things that are new with me: I'm 90% moved into Mark's, but am still spending most nights at Fairfax on an air mattress. I got a little promotion at work and will now be devoting half my time to working in corporate sales. And the nail biting is only half-successful...I should have added "cuticles" to my thoughts when he was blowing bad images out of my head.

Oh, and I'm adding nuns to my list of things that make me uneasy. I saw one on the T a couple days ago and, for some reason, thought that she was going to smile at me and have fangs. Maybe I'm just scared of costumes. Sometimes a nun is just a nun, I guess.

Haaaaaappy Friday!!!

My Date With Robin Williams

Yello!


First off, I'd like to give a shout-out to my teeth! 6 1/2 years of zero dentist visits and I only have one tiny cavity. And it's only really the beginning of one! Smell ya in another 6 1/2 years, Dr. Cook! I'm sorry to all of the dentists who don't read my blog, but I'd rather eat with my feet then spend my life scraping someone's nasty-ass, chalky teeth (ack, just writing about that sound gave me the shivers)... blech!


Anywho, more importantly, my appointment with the Mad Russian was last Saturday! Obviously, this meant that Nail Binge Fest '09 was ON last week prior to the appointment, and I did not disappoint. My poor nails were like, "Help a brotha out! Let us breathe, gosh darn it!" (my nails don't ever swear), but I was like, "What if I never again know crazy, irrational satisfaction? What if I never again experience the high of ripping off a hangnail that mocks me? Deal with it biotches!" (I, unfortunately, do swear). Long story short, my nails were a-hurtin', come Saturday. And I was ready to beat this obsession... cutting a tomato without your hands stinging like a motha?! Is it possible?!


So as snoozeual, being that I was nervous, I was late, thus was even more nervous. Mark wasn't even running on Willis Time; we just hit a lot of traffic. So, naturally, I'm all flustered and jabber-jawed to this old, mini-Russian receptionist woman (God, they grow 'em small over there) but she's all calm like, "Welllllcome. He has just begun. Please follow me." I hate haunted houses, so I wasn't really feeling the grave welcome, but whatevs. Against my better judgement, I followed her in and sitting behind a big desk, surrounded by fifteen antsy people in chairs, sat the MR.

He said something in rapid-fire broken English and everyone in the class just smiled and looked at me, except for one chubby guy who laughed unnecessarily loudly. This irritated me until I realized that he was probably in a psychotic I'd-kill-anyone-in-this-room-for-a-cigarette-induced panic. I sat far away from him.

The Mad Russian was about 5'3" and wore a yellow shirt tightly tucked into brown pants which were belted well above his navel. This pant/shirt combo apparently hid what he described as a "healthy, solid body," proving this claim to an older woman forced to run her fingers over what, I'm guessing, were probably rock hard abs. I'm going to take her word for it. He was very animated during the hour and a half session, sitting down and gesticulating wildly, then springing to his feet to eye each of us and ask if we understood what he was saying. He did growl twice, which was alarming, but both were directed at a woman who showed up super late (I don't know, maybe that's the way they handle tardiness in Russia). His entire, only partially decipherable, rambling spiel was laced with manic "I will change your life" assertions, and the only time we spoke was when he asked if we were afflicted with physical pain, anxiety or depression and if so, if we were on medication. I told him about my faulty knees and he made me uncross my legs (I was wearing a skirt, but tried my best to avoid a Sharon Stone moment) so he could wiggle his fingers at me from across the room. It was a nice gesture, but my knees still hurt.

Important subjects that the MR touched on (from what I gathered, at least. The man was a spot-on Robin Williams impression):

*You should never take drugs to cure pain, physical or emotional. "If you sit on a nail, would you pull out the nail or take a Tylenol? Which makes the most sense?"

*All Americans are overweight. "You have a problem, you gain 300 pounds. Eating, eating, eating- it's all you do."

*No one uses common sense anymore. "It's like a stationary bike. You have it, but you never use it."

I'm not going to say I didn't agree, I guess I was just wondering how calling me fat and stupid was going to make me stop biting my nails. Embarrassing me, however, seemed to do the trick. Halfway through the session, he stopped and asked me if I was hungry, then imitated how I looked gnawing my hand off. He then pulled scissors out, though I'm not sure where he was going with that. What, he was going to stab me if I didn't stop? Cut my hair off? Actually, that last threat would definitely work... not a bad idea.

Long story short, at the end of the session, he made us all leave, then called us in again one by one. He was very sweet and complimentary when we were alone (such a midget trait- hidden kindness) and told me to relax and close my eyes...talk about a bad after school special, right? I was to say "I am biting my nails, I am biting my nails..." over and over again in my head, while he blew the bad thoughts out of my head. One quick "Pfff" later, and I was paying my $65 and meeting Mark around the corner for a margarita.

Did it work? Hard to say. I've absolutely caught myself a couple times this week, but the obsessive urge has definitely lessened and I'd consider that a success. I even cut tomatoes last night and found it delightful! As for the weird laughing guy in the beginning? No such luck :( I saw him in his car not an hour later, lighting up. I wanted to scream "Don't do this! Be strong!" but opted for obvious staring and disappointed head-shaking instead. From one addict to another, I feel his pain.

One last unrelated note: I passed one of those wretched human statues yesterday and she was sitting on a crate, holding a hand mirror and trying to fix her contact as the crowd stared. HA! You failed at your job, weird bronze fairy. Everybody knows real statues don't wear contacts!