Addictions

I thank my lucky stars that I never became addicted to cigarettes, and while I am a social drinker, I am clearly not an alcoholic. But I think everyone has some kind of addiction, whether it be your typical "vice" or something that seems so innocuous. For me, that something is travel mugs from Starbucks.

A few years ago, I was happy with my washed up Einstein Bagels plastic coffee mugs. They were cheap, they were portable, what more could you ask for? But one day, I sprang for the more expensive Starbucks tumbler, and I have not looked back. Everytime there is a holiday, I am on the hunt for new Starbucks travel mugs. Will they have a new design for Easter this year? What about Valentine's Day? I must find out. I currently have about 20 of these things. The only thing slowing me down is the idea that at some point most of the mugs go on sale. For instance, I was happy to wait to buy the spider web and bat designs on November 1, when they were half price. I currently have three candy-cane striped designs, and I use them year round. And this becomes a challenge. On February 15, I searched in vain for the travel mug with the hearts and the pink lid. It was not meant to be, but that did not stop me from going out of my way to case four different Starbucks. When I am at an airport Starbucks in another city, I am always looking for the Starbucks mug of that city. It's sort of like when I collected Hard Rock Cafe shirts, only much more pathetic.

What causes us to have these stupid addictions? Granted, I actually use all of my mugs, but I could just as easily remember to take them home everyday, and get by with just two or three. It is always a pain to find a place for them in the cupboard. And yet, my quest for new designs and colors continues.

For me, at least I know it is inherited. My mom develops similar types of addictions. One day, she was in a T.J. Maxx and found these wooden carved ducks (spelled dcuk) with name tags. I think there were at least six different characters at that store, and she decided she had to have them all, even though she had no idea what she would do with them. She got up to the high school cashier boy, who gave her a look, to which she responded in deadpan, "I have a lot of ducks." She then went through this whole dilemma of what to do with the ducks. Sure, it was a "good deal," given that they normally retail for $30 each and she got them at half of the price, but does she really need more chatchkis in the house? Shouldn't she just take them back? Well you can guess what happened. Not only did she decide not to take them back, but she couldn't wait to hit the T.J. Maxx near my house to find more.

How Did I Get Here - Part II

Usually, it's the imdb tangent I find myself venturing. But today, it was classmates.com. What makes this extra exciting for me is that I grew up in four different places - three different states (though I can hardly count the years from 1974-1978 in Massachusetts when I knew about three people: my mom, my dad, and my brother). So there are some people that will always stay 8 years old in my mind because we didn't stay in that town long enough for me to go to junior high or high school there. I started light. I got my typical classmates.com update in my inbox and clicked the link to see who signed my guestbook (there are a whopping two people in mine, only one of whom I actually know). Then I started checking to see if any of the people from my high school added any pictures (few people post pictures, and I'm not sure why - probably because no one really uses classmates.com anymore). When I was through with that, I began thinking of those people I knew in the late 1970s to mid-1980s. What happened to them? The first to come to mind was a guy I had a crush on in the 5th grade: Chad Phillips. He had a really cute dimple in his chin. And he was smart. It wasn't completely unrequited. He did ask me to be his partner for a few in-class projects. But nothing ever came of it. I found him on classmates.com, but sadly there was no real information there. This made me go back farther into my history. A boy named Darcy. Darcy Bufalini. Surely there can't be too many of those roaming around. He was in my first grade class, and he rode my bus. His stop was at the very end of the line. So he was the first to be picked up in the morning and the last to be dropped off (kind of sucked for him, if you think about it - twenty minutes less to sleep in, and you miss out on half of the good cartoons in the afternoon). We were buddies. I remember getting the permission slip from my mom to ride the bus to his house one day after school. The other kids on the bus kept telling me that I missed my stop. And I kept having to say that I was going to Darcy's house. There was definitely some teasing there, and I am sure I blushed about this. I don't remember much about his house because I think it was the only time I saw it. But I do recall playing some board game involving a pizzeria. It's funny what we remember. Anyway, I didn't find Darcy on classmates.com at all. So naturally, I did a google search. Again, how many Darcy Bufalinis can there be? I did find a Darcy Bufalini on linkedin.com. And I invited him to join my network. He probably thinks I'm psycho, but whatever. I'm just nostalgic.

THOSE people

I know that the title to this one could point to any number of groups of people that we like to point out and say, 'Oh, they're one of THOSE...' But today, the 'THOSE' that I'm pointing out are those that hop on the elevator only to go up, or down, one floor. ONE floor. Unless you are physically disabled (and if I'm in a 'not so giving mood,' I usually want to see that you are visably disabled), I think you can hike up, or down, one flight of stairs.
When these people get on the elevator and push the next floor above or below where we're currently at, I immediately roll my eyes (I think this is now a learned response) and look for any reason why this person could not walk up the stairs. In the unofficial survey that I have going on in my head, the main reason why these people can't seem to walk up, or down, the stairs is due to being overweight (both slight and overly). But then you would think, if you're even slightly overweight, wouldn't you think that taking the stairs (even one flight) every day might help get you in slightly better shape or at least make you feel a little better about yourself? Sometimes these overweight people mask the reason why they can't walk up, or down, the stairs with their rolling laptop bags. Now there's an excuse:
'My 10-15 lb. laptop roller bag is prohibiting me from taking the stairs. '
How about throwing your laptop bag in a backpack and hiking it? That's what I do.
And for those people that are only going down one flight, that's just inexcusable. ONE floor. Going down in the easy part...it's the going up that can be trying.
This has always been one of my pet peeves....cause it only delays the elevator from getting me up to my floor - a legitimate four flights up from the ground floor, which is also the top floor in the building.

Drive Bys

Don't you often wonder what people do in their car while driving to and fro...besides talk on their phone and applying make-up? I do.
When I drive just about anywhere, I have my music turned up (usually coming from my iPod) and I like to sing-along. I think a lot of people sing along to their music but I especially like to sing along because I like to think that 'American Idol' is going on in my car and I'm beating out the competition with my song choices.
However, when I'm driving to work and I look over into other people's vehicles, I don't see a lot of people singing along. It could be because they're listening to talk radio or they're probably just on their phone. And then I feel silly for singing along to the music in my car. But sometimes, the music just draws you in. For instance, you're driving along and what comes on - a classic power ballad. And by power, I'm talking flare and dramatics.
Amanda and I were driving along one fine, sunny afternoon when 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' came on. This is a GREAT, classic, power ballad. Heads and upper torsos were swaying, hands were waving, we were singing to the heavens and the heavens loved us! But sometimes you get so caught up in the performance that accidents happen. No, I did not get into an accident while driving but Amanda hit her hand pretty hard on the window support while whipping out her arm to demonstrate the dramatics of the song. Did she stop to tend to her wound? No way - she went on and performed to the end....AND THEN we laughed and talked about the hand wound. (The dra-mah also takes over for 'All Cried Out' by Lisa, Lisa)
So this is why I'm peering into other people's vehicles while I drive - to see if I can see other people singing. I don't find it too often and when I'm coming up on a stop light, I tend to either look the other way and keep singing , stop singing, or 'American Idol' becomes 'Making the Band' and I become the drummer and I start tapping my hands on the steering wheel to the music....this is especially effective for the 'working man, fist pumping music.'
And now that I've finished a semester of hip-hop dance class, sometimes 'American Idol' turns into 'So You Think You Can Dance' - overall, I'd say my car is a pretty fun place to be.
So I wonder - am I a dying breed of car performers?

Fashion in Film

Here's another one for the fashionistas. If you love movies like I do, you appreciate that there is a lot more to take away from a film than the plot and the acting. There's also the scenery, the music (both score and soundtrack), and the wardrobe. I often find myself in a desperate search for the song I heard during the end credits or during a particularly poignant scene. But I've recently realized that I also pay attention to the costumes in movies - if you could really call them that. I am talking of present day characters (at least present when the movie came out) and their fabulous clothes that I covet. Most recently, I rented "Catch and Release," and I became so distracted by the fine tan suede jacket worn by Jennifer Garner in the beginning of the film. This made me think back to other movies where I have obsessed over finding a certain article of clothing featured. In no particular order, here is my list:

1. Catch and Release - that beautiful beautiful suede jacket worn by Jennifer Garner.

2. The Devil Wears Prada - I don't know how you could have a list like this and not have this movie on it. There are so many to choose from, but I am again going with outerwear - that lovely cream colored coat and beret in that montage scene showing Anne Hathaway going to work every morning after her makeover.

3. Love, Actually - the cream colored short sleeved sweater worn by Keira Knightly when she answers the door to Mr. Unrequited Love. I searched for that sweater for months, conveniently forgetting that I am neither 20 years old nor 98 pounds.

4. Clueless - It's been over ten years, and the fashion in that movie is still great to me. I particularly loved the burgundy dress with the ever so slightly poofed sleeves and ribbon sash that Alicia Silverstone wore (and which Amber eventually copied).

5. When Harry Met Sally - An oldie but a goodie. There were so many outfits of Meg Ryan's that I loved, but for some reason in the 9th grade, I just had to find her dark loose fitting jeans, cream colored mock turtleneck and a nice brown leather belt to finish it off. I found something passable at The Limited, but I knew it wasn't exactly the same.

6. Pretty Woman - who didn't want that light brown polka dotted dress Julia Roberts wore to the races? I didn't have the hat, but I did have the dress knock-off (and matching Arsenio Hall "woo woo" motion).

Then I just thought I would add some dishonorable mentions. I don't obsess over these, but I sat through a few viewings of these movies and YUCK. Just goes to show that being attractive doesn't get you all of the way:

1. Picture Perfect - wedding outfit worn by Jennifer Aniston. Green and orange dress with green tights. Or was it orange tights? It doesn't matter - it was yuck.

2. Two Weeks Notice - I know Sandra Bullock's outfit at the end with the faux silk shirt and dowdy skirt were supposed to make her look "free clinic," but I just couldn't stand to watch the disgrace. There's no excuse for that.

3. Pretty in Pink - only not so much. Years later, I've grown accustomed to the gown Molly Ringwald designed herself by ruining that perfectly lovely '60's Annie Potts number, but at the time, I freaking HATED that mess. Way to emphasize Molly Ringwald's worst features (but as an aside, I did love her ensemble in The Breakfast Club).